CHAPTER VIII
TREACHERY
The region which lies behind the West African coast is not a pleasantone to traverse, and bad fortune seemed to attend Maxwell's expeditionfrom the time it marched out of the seaboard settlement, where he hadhad trouble with certain French officials, as well as with the blackhead man from whom he hired his carriers. All of this Dane rememberedwhen he halted, one burning afternoon, shoulder-deep in the tall grassof a swamp, worn out in body and perplexed in mind. Few Europeans arecapable of much exertion in that country, especially during the hottestpart of the afternoon; but the hammock boys were too weary to drag theirburdens farther, and there was urgent need for haste. Dane accordinglyhad taxed his strength to the utmost during the last few hours. The tallgrass stems were almost too hot to touch, and foul mire bubbled abouttheir roots. At least a league of it, through which, slashed bysaw-edged blades and stabbed by broken stalks, the expedition must forceits way, stretched toward an inland ridge of higher ground that rosefrom the morass. Beyond this, in turn, flat-topped hills dimmed by ayellow heat haze cut the horizon.
As Dane halted, a naked carrier stumbled, and, dropping the deal casefrom his woolly crown, splashed him all over. Another straightway fellover his prostrate comrade, and began a spirited attack upon him whenthey scrambled to their feet again. Dane was too weary to rebuke eitherin the fashion they would best understand; but a man of dusky colorundertook the duty for him, with the barrel of a gaspipe gun, and thecombatants, desisting, found new places in the straggling line. A fewpicked men in flowing white draperies with flintlock guns on theirshoulders were already floundering through the swamp ahead. Behind them,almost and wholly naked negroes, many wearing on their forehead the blueband which marks the amphibious Kroo, went splashing by, each bearing adeal case or tarred cloth package upon his crown. Then the rearguard,tall and soldierly men with the blood of the Arab in them, who carriedold-fashioned rifles in spite of certain regulations, came up withMaxwell. They wore a ragged white uniform, swore by the Prophet, andwere, as Dane subsequently discovered, reliable fighting men. TheKrooboys carried a cutlass-shaped matchet, a by no means despicableweapon when rubbed keen with a file.
Maxwell differed in outward appearance from the somewhat fastidiousgentleman Dane had known in Scotland. His cotton jacket was badly rent,sun-baked mire clung thickly about his leggings, and one side of his bigsun-helmet had been flattened in. The raw condition of his face and neckbetokened the power of the last few days' sun, and he blinked a littlebecause his eyes had suffered by the change from the forest shadow tothe dazzling brightness and the fibrous dust of the grass.
"Don't let your particular scarecrows get too far ahead of you, Hilton,"he cautioned. "I should hardly have suspected you of any inclination tostop and admire the scenery after the opinion you recently expressedconcerning this country."
"I'd willingly burn or flood the whole of it if I could," Dane repliedirritably. "Miss Castro was not mistaken when she mentioned the shadowthat crept up from behind. Ill luck has certainly followed us from thebeginning, and it is time we turned round and endeavored to settle upaccounts with whoever is the cause of it."
"You may have an opportunity to-night, or earlier," said Maxwell. "When,in spite of warnings, two white men insist on visiting a region whichwas specially made for black men, they can't expect to be comfortable.What is it that excites your particular indignation?"
The malarial fever contracted in other parts of the tropics had, as notinfrequently happens, returned upon Dane in Africa. His head achedintolerably, every joint seemed stiff, and he swept his hand round thehorizon as he answered vaguely.
"Everything! Why was it that, after drinking at a village well, two ofour carriers died? Why should venomous insects crawl into my boots andfrom underneath my pillow? Or a guide, who declared he knew the country,bog us waist-deep in a quagmire, where we lost half our ammunition?Doesn't it strike you that the sequence of accidents is not all due tocoincidence?"
"And, in addition to all this, you will be wondering why you areprostrate with fever to-morrow, if you excite yourself at the presenttemperature. Forget your grievances until your turn comes, and thenstrike the harder. Meanwhile, we have been stalked since we passed thelast village, and the sooner we reach yonder dry ground, and build abreastwork, the better."
Knowing that this was good counsel, Dane did his best, finding a savagecomfort in the thought that at last he would probably have thesatisfaction of seeing his persecutors; but the grass was tall andmatted, the temperature suffocating, and when they lost sight of theislet the morass appeared interminable. Such civilization as may befound in West Africa is only skin-deep. That is to say, it pertains tothe coast, and is occasionally hard to discover there. In many places itstill extends less than a day's march from the black troops' barracks,and the white man who travels beyond that distance takes his own risks,which are sometimes considerable. Dane already had cause to realizethis, and he was accordingly thankful when at last the expedition,floundering out of the swamp, reached the strip of firmer earth. Here abreastwork of deal cases and branches was built, and camp pitched amongthe giant buttresses staying the cottonwood trunks.
"I think," said Maxwell cheerfully, when they lingered over a frugalmeal, "if any misguided bushmen try to rush this camp to-night they willregret it. I will see to the sentries and keep first watch while yourest. You look as though you needed sleep."
Dane certainly did, having enjoyed little sleep worth mentioning sincehe left the coast. Indeed, he could scarcely keep his eyes open, and hewondered vacantly that Maxwell, who seemed proof against the climate,should show no sign of fatigue. When he unrolled his strip of mattingand water-proof inside the little tent, the African sunset was flamingin the west, and the cottonwoods crowning the ridge stood out black asebony against its almost unearthly brilliancy. Among them fantasticfigures, some naked as when they first entered the world, some draped inwhite and blue, crouched about the cooking fires; while, seen betweentwo mighty buttresses of living wood which stayed ponderous trunks, menwith matchets and long guns were curled up beneath the breastwork. Thewood smoke drifted in filmy wisps athwart the lonely camp, the swampsteamed like a cauldron, and the chirruping of countless frogs rose outof the vapor. Then the brief brilliancy faded, and thick impenetrabledarkness suddenly rolled down. The faint coolness that came with itbrought sleep to Dane, and it was midnight when Maxwell's voice rousedhim.
"Get up and stand by with your rifle! There are bushmen in the grass!"he said.
Half-awake, Dane groped for the breastwork, falling over several negroeson the way, and when he reached it the blackness was Egyptian. There wasnothing visible beyond the loom of shadowy trunks, but Dane could hearunseen men breathing heavily, the click-clack of flintlocks, and therasp of a file along a matchet blade. Then a faint crackle which drewnearer came out of the grass, and instantly a blaze of weird blueradiance leaped up, showing Maxwell's spare figure perched recklesslyaloft upon the breastwork with a port-fire held high above him. Itsglare beat along the matchet blades, the gun-barrels, and the oily skinof the men beneath, and showed black patches which might have been armsor heads among the grass. Then it died out; and Dane pitched the rifleto his shoulder at Maxwell's shout. There was neither challenge norparley. They were now beyond civilized jurisdiction, and the right ofany man to existence in that country depends upon the strength of hishand.
The heel-plate jarred on his shoulder, the barrel jumped in his lefthand, red sparks flickered along the breastwork, and the sputtering roarof the flintlocks was repeated among the trunks. Dane fancied a screamrose in answer from the grass, and once or twice a long gun flashed;then the firing slackened, and it was heartsome to hear Maxwell laugh.He came stumbling toward Dane, and held up a second port-fire whoselight showed no trace of any assailant. The silence that followed grewoppressive. It was, however, suddenly broken. A rifle flashed in therear of the camp, a bullet whirred close by Dane's head; and Maxwell,dropping the flare, set his foot upon it.
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"The second time! That was a good rifle, and fired by one of our ownmen," he said. "Take this nigger, Hilton, crawl in on him, and,disregarding anything which may happen, get that man--alive if you can.He is worth all the rest of the expedition."
Crouching low, crawling on hands and knees, and slipping from trunk totrunk, the pair worked backward in a semicircle, though, instead offollowing, it was the negro who led the white man. It seemed to Danethat he was making noise enough to waken the dead, but his duskycompanion had probably owed his life to his powers of silent motion, andhis progress was as noiseless as that of a serpent. Still, a clamorwhich broke out at the rear of the camp drowned the sound of Dane'spassage, and presently a fire commenced to crackle behind the serriedtrunks. Rising partly upright, he could see naked figures outlinedagainst it flitting with burdens on their heads into the swamp.Nevertheless, Maxwell's instructions were explicit, and, when the negrobeckoned, he sank down again.
The fire tossed higher, and Dane surmised that somebody had lighted thedried grass to divert attention from the deserters or a fresh attack.Its purport, however, was in the meantime a side issue, for, as theradiance came flickering athwart the trunks, it revealed something dimand shadowy crouching among the roots of a neighboring cottonwood. Theblurred shape might have escaped notice had not the line of steel beforeit glimmered once or twice. With infinite caution Dane covered a fewmore yards, and stooped behind a screen of trailers, with every nervequivering, and a heavy pistol clenched in his right hand. What hadbecome of the negro he did not know. Once the assassin raised hisweapon, and Dane laid the short pistol barrel upon his raised forearm,hoping that the stiffness of the trigger might not spoil his aim; but helowered it again, for, evidently attracted by the increasing glare, theman he stalked rose partly upright, glancing over his shoulder. Hiscaution betrayed him, for, hurling himself crashing through thecreepers, Dane fell upon him, driving the heavy pistol into the centerof the dusky face with his full weight behind it. The two went down, thecolored man undermost, clawing with greasy hands at his adversary'sthroat. Their grip was feeble, for the first blow had got home; but timewas precious, and Dane, heaving his right shoulder clear, brought thesteel-bound butt down again.
There was a hollow groan; several men who came running up fell heavilyover the pair, and while one dragged the half-dazed white man clear,the others lashed the prisoner fast with creeper ropes. Rising shakily,Dane sent up a breathless shout.
"Stand fast and see that nobody gets in your way if you have him safe!"cried Maxwell. "Don't trouble about the grass! It is damp among thecottonwoods, and will soon burn out."
Dane waited ten long minutes, feeling thankful, meanwhile, that the onespot where the ridge could be reached on that side through the quaggyswamp was lighted by the fire. Then Maxwell joined him, and, trusting totheir subordinates' vigilance, they made the round of the knolltogether. A dozen carriers were missing; and their assailants hadvanished as mysteriously as they came.
"We shall miss the boys, but it might be fatal to try to follow them;and at least we know whom we can trust," said Maxwell. "A treacherousservant is worse to deal with than an open enemy. Our assailants wereevidently mere bush thieves, and not regular fighting men, or they wouldprobably have got in. Whether they expected help from the deserters, orwhat share the man you seized had in the plot, I can't decide now; and,in the meantime, it is of no great importance. We shall discover itto-morrow."
Nobody in camp slept during the rest of the night, which was one of thelongest in Dane's recollection. Most of it he spent huddled among theroots of a cottonwood while the heavy dew of the tropics splashed uponhim, straining ears and eyes alike for any sign of the enemy. There was,however, no sound but the wailing of some night bird from all thetangled grass; and except when now and then a murmur of negro voicesrose up, a deep impressive silence brooded over the camp. Dane couldhear his watch ticking, and there were times when he found it difficultto master an impulse to cry aloud, or to commit any extravagance whichwould break the tormenting stillness.
At last, however, the temperature fell a little. A faint chill air shookthe dew from the tangled creepers flung from mighty branch to branch,and the darkness became less dense. The steam of the swamps grewthicker, a streak of radiance broadened in the east, and suddenly asnight had fallen, the red sun leaped up. It was once more burning day,and neither the dew-drenched white men, who stiffly straightened theiraching limbs, nor the stolid Africans, who rolled over in their lairsamong the undergrowth, were sorry to greet the light again. They were apitiful handful of travel-worn and somewhat dejected men, alone on acontracted islet of dry soil in a limitless sea of mist whose whitewaves were doubtless filled with unseen perils.
"Another day to be endured," said Maxwell, yawning as he spoke."Another, and another, until the long weeks swell into months, and then,if nobody poisons or shoots us prematurely, we shall go back to Englandand fancy we have been dreaming. Has it occurred to you yet, Hilton,that the men who gain fortunes in Africa don't _win_ but _earn_ themhardly? One might wonder why a beneficent Creator made this country."
"It was His Satanic Majesty who made West Africa, using for a model hisown dominions. A good many details prove it beside the temperature!"
It was eight o'clock in the morning and already fiercely hot, while thebrightness outside the shade of the cottonwoods grew dazzling, whenMaxwell, constituting himself at once prosecutor and judge, summonedthe prisoner before an informal court. He was a big man, draped in loosecotton, and rather the hue of ocher than ebony; but his countenance wasghastly as well as malevolent, for the pistol butt had left its mark onit. A slackly rolled turban covered half his forehead, and he leanedwith his back against a cottonwood scowling upon his judge. Maxwell saton a camp-stool, not far away, with a rifle laid across his knee; Danelay in the grass beside him; and the carriers and the armed men weredrawn up in a half-circle behind them. Hitherto the would-be assassin,who acted as headman or chief of a section, had done nothing to exciteDane's suspicions.
"There is no law in this country but one, the _lex talionis_, while youand I are responsible for the lives of all these about us," saidMaxwell. "It is a heavy responsibility, and I dare not allow any attemptto betray them to pass unpunished. You need not translate this,interpreter. Ask that fellow why he twice shot at the men whose breadand salt he has eaten."
What the interpreter, who spoke a little of the fantastic English in usealong the coast, said, Dane did not know, but he spent some time overit, and when he had finished the prisoner spat upon the groundcontemptuously.
"Damn fool man," explained the sable linguist. "He savvy too much anddone say nothing."
"That means he refuses to plead," said Maxwell. "Well, we will proceedto inquire into his offenses as directly as possible. Listen carefully,and don't mix up my questions more than you can help, interpreter."
Maxwell asked questions which astonished his companion, and it was plainthat he had for some time suspected a good deal. There was no lack oftestimony; for carrier and armed retainer in turn set forth, through theblack interpreter or in quaintest English, how the accused had told themgruesome stories of the devils inhabiting the country they wereventuring into; had dropped hints that by seizing the provisions theymight enrich themselves for life; and had been seen communing withmysterious strangers a few nights earlier. Dane listened with growingindignation, for the simple tales made plain not only how venomousinsects got into his boots, but that on two occasions he had narrowlyescaped with his life.
"Ask them," said Maxwell grimly, "why nobody had the sense to tell methis before."
"Them boy say you not done ask them, sah," answered the interpreterconvincingly.
"It's African logic, and there's no use expecting too much from anynigger," said Maxwell aside. "The man's guilt is plainly evident; butwhile presumably neither of us knows much of jurisprudence, I wish togive him a fair chance of making his defense. We will do it in his ownspeech, though I am inclined to fancy that he understands Eng
lish.Interpreter, try to make this clear to him."
Maxwell spoke for some minutes, pausing often for the linguist toexplain his meaning, and again astonished Dane. He traced the accused'sactions with surprising skill, showing how he had inspired a maraudingheadman to plunder and leave them starving, and induced the carriers todesert in the hope of precipitating a panic among the loyal. He alsoconnected him with several of the mysterious accidents which haddelayed the march.
"Tell him I give him a last chance. He has just five minutes to clearhimself in."
Maxwell laid his watch on the camp-stool between his knees, pointedtoward a lengthening shaft of brightness which approached the roots of atree, and then opened and closed the breach of his rifle significantly.The dusky man before him showed no sign of fear, and his half-scornful,wholly malevolent scowl, together with the intense silence, theexpectant black faces, and the glint of light on weapons, burnt itselfinto Dane's memory. The five minutes seemed very long to him. Then, ashis comrade slowly replaced his watch in his pocket, the prisoner spokea few words disdainfully, and Dane could feel his fingers contract as hewaited for the interpreter's answer.
"Damn fool man," it came. "Say he only sorry he done miss you that time.Very bad man, sah. Say no white man or coast nigger ever lib for getinto the Leopards' country."
"So," said Maxwell dryly. "That is to say, while he can prevent it,which may not be long. Ask these boys what should be done with the manwho would have left them starving, or perhaps sold them for slaves tosome headman."
The camp boys had followed the evidence, and a clamor of voices answeredthe query. Big eyes glistened, black thumbs were run along twinklingmatchet blades, and Dane distinguished ominous cries.
"You shoot him one time, sah! Give him to us and we done chop him!"
"It is the only possible verdict," Maxwell said with strange quietness."One returns to primitive customs in this part of Africa; and it is moremerciful that one should die than many. A curse upon the country! Must Iturn executioner?--but for the sake of all those about us, there is noother way."
"What is your purpose?" Dane asked sharply, jumping to his feet.
Maxwell looked at him steadily with his lips firmly set and the colormottled a little in his face.
"Give him thirty seconds to reach the grass. I might miss; these otherscertainly would--and it will be a little easier that way. Do youunderstand me, interpreter? If he can reach the swamp alive no man shallharm him."
"You shall not do it!" Dane exclaimed hotly. "Heaven knows, the brutedeserves it; but you can't go home with your hands fouled by thathelpless wretch's blood! Pass him that rifle, and give me another, withfifty yards to commence at, if you can't think of anything better. Theother is too much like murder!"
For a moment the returning color suffused Maxwell's forehead, and therewas a flash of anger in his eyes, but he was generally master of histemper, and he answered calmly.
"I could not afford to lose you, Hilton. As I said, we have these men'slives to answer for; and while that fellow lives theirs and our own areequally in danger. That reminds me, I had forgotten something which mayor may not surprise you further. You yonder, strike off his turban!"
A Kroo did it with the haft of his machet, and Dane gasped withastonishment, for there was a curiously shaped scar on the prisoner'sforehead.
"The cross-marked man," said Maxwell. "The rascal who betrayed and soldpoor Niven's carriers. He has, I think, one white man's death already toanswer for."
Dane, stooping, laid a hand on each of the speaker's shoulders. Maxwellwas a determined man, with virile brain and no lack of nervous energy;but Dane had the advantage in stature and muscular strength, and wasglad that it was so. His leader was helpless in his grasp.
"You are perfectly right, Carsluith," he said stolidly. "If you werenot, it would be useless for me to try to convince you; but I give youwarning that the death of this man dissolves our partnership; and itwill, at least, not be your rifle which fires the fatal shot."
Maxwell smiled curiously.
"Do you suppose I am fond of bloodshed, or sorry that you have forced meagainst my judgment?" he said. "On your head be it, and you can have themurderer. I hope that neither of us will regret your clemency!"
He beckoned the interpreter, and when the latter had spoken, theprisoner twice spat upon the ground, which was probably the mostinsulting action that occurred to him; then, turning, without word orsign, stalked into the grass. There was a harsh crackling, and, when hisragged draperies vanished, a murmur of wonder from the camp boys.Maxwell sighed as with relief.
"I am glad it is over; and whether we have done ill or well, time alonewill show, but neither of us has seen the last of the cross-marked man,"he said. "In the meantime, we want more carriers and supplies. Go backto the coast and get them. You will have much less trouble on the returnjourney. I will stockade a camp in the hills yonder and wait for you."