"A Romance of the Land of No Return" (continued 4)

Armed with this letter of introduction we ascended the river, receiving the greatest civility from the industrious people, who, however, were living in daily dread of their lives from the incursions of the wild Borgu raiders.

Until we arrived at the town of Lokoja, at the confluence of the Benue river with the Niger, a journey occupying thirteen days, Mohammed remained with us. Then we parted, he to return home by the route of the ivory caravans which ran due north, through Zozo and Zamfara, we to ascend the Benue river in search of the Rock of the Great Sin. When on the morning he embraced me, sprang into his saddle, and raising his hand wished us farewell, I felt that I was parting from an old friend. To him my dwarfed companion and myself owed our lives; to him we owed our safe conduct beyond the clutches of the Sultan’s horsemen; to him we owed the letter from the Governor of Sokoto which now reposed in the pocket of my gandoura; to him we owed the directions that we were about to follow, in order to reach the great, unexplored land.

“May Allah, peace and safety, attend thee. May the One Merciful guide thy footsteps, be generous to thee, and give thee prosperity,” he cried, as he turned to leave. “And may the sun of his grace shine upon thee and illuminate the path of thy return to the true-hearted woman thou lovest. At the isha each night will I remember thee. Farewell, and peace. Fi amaniillah.”

“And upon thee may the Omniscient One ever shower his blessings. May the Prophet be thy protector,” I cried in response.

But he had cried, “Yahh! Yahh!” to his ass, and the beast, thus urged forward, was jogging rapidly away on the first stage of his long journey northwards.

My pledge to Azala, and her earnest words that recurred to me, alone prompted me to continue my journey. A wanderer in desert and forest, with the soul of the true-born Bedouin, ever restless, ever moving, I had seen much of that half-civilised life led by the people beyond the influence of the Roumis. In London, cooped up amid the so-called civilisation of the English, their streets and shops, their wonderful buildings, and their women with uncovered faces, I cared nought for study, longing always for the free life of the plains that knows not law. Even of Algiers I had tired, and chosen a wandering existence of my own free will, exiling myself even from my Arab clansmen, and becoming a soldier of the great Mahdi, who, with his contemptuous disregard for human life, had spread the terror of his name in letters of blood. Yet through it all the one mystery of my life, the indelible mark upon my breast, had remained unsolved. Nay, its mystic significance had increased, for having looked with love for the first time upon a woman, I had found that she also bore the mystic device.

It was to endeavour to penetrate this mystery, to discover the spot, the reflection of which had appeared often in Kano as a mystic cloud-picture, that I had set out, and I became filled with a determination to strive towards it as long as Allah gave me breath. Forward I would fight my way, and plunge without fear into the trackless, unknown regions of which Mohammed had spoken, and question the people of the various countries eastward, to ascertain if any could direct me to where stood the gloomy Rock of the Great Sin.

Accompanied by the ugly dwarf, whose conversation was always quaint, and who entertained me with tales of the prowess of his people, as numerous and varied as those stored within the brain of a Dervish storyteller, we travelled onward day by day, week by week, up the swiftly-flowing Benue, where manioc, pumpkins, yams, kola nuts, colocasia, rijel, sugar-canes, and the helmia, whose tuberous root resembles the potato in taste and appearance, grew in great abundance through the fertile Foulde country, beneath the high granite crags of Mount Yarita, and at last, leaving the river, a mere stream so small that one could stand with a foot on either bank, we made a long and toilsome ascent, at length finding ourselves upon a great, sandy plateau devoid of herbage. Guiding our course by the sun, we struck one day at dawn due eastward, over great dunes of treacherous shifting sand, into which the feet of our asses sank at every step, rendering progress very slow and extremely difficult.

For a long time we were both silent; it was as much as we could do to advance with our animals halting and turning obstinately at every step. Suddenly I was startled by Tiamo crying aloud in dismay, “Balek! Elgueubeli!” (Take care! the sandstorm).

Then, for the first time, I realised that a strange darkness had fallen, that the morning sun had become utterly obscured by a dense, black cloud, and gigantic sand columns were whirling over the plain at furious speed. Next moment, a howling, tearing wind swept upon us with the force of a tornado. As I twisted my ragged haick quickly about my face, to shield my eyes and mouth, my ass, apprehensive of our danger, veered round with his hindquarters to the tempest. I leaned towards the ass’s neck, and felt him tremble beneath me.

Then, in an instant, I received a terrific shock; it seemed to me that a camel’s pack of sand had fallen all at once upon my head.

Chapter Twenty Two.

Zu, the Bird-God.

So heavily had I been struck that it was with difficulty I regained my breath and kept my seat. For some minutes the sand whirled about me so thickly that Tiamo, only a leopard’s leap away, became obscured in the sudden darkness. With mouth and eyes filled with fine sand I experienced a horrible sensation of being stifled, and clutched frantically at my throat for air, but in a few moments the storm grew less violent, and when I looked for the dwarf he had disappeared.

At first it seemed as though the strong wind had carried him completely away, but in a few seconds I discovered him half buried, and struggling in the great ridge of sand that had been formed behind us. Quickly I hastened to his assistance and extricated him, when with his habitual hideous grin, as if amused by his own words, he told me how, being of small weight, the great wind had lifted him from the back of his ass, and rolling him over, buried him in the loose sand.

His was indeed a narrow escape, but apparently he was little worse for his exciting experience than myself, and even as we spoke the wind abated, the sky cleared, the sandstorm swept northward on its course to Lake Tsad, and the glaring sun shone again in the dead milk-white sky. For half-an-hour we halted to rest, then recommenced with fresh vigour the painful, tedious march over the dreary waste where Nature made a pause.

Four long and wearying days we occupied in traversing that lonely plain, at length descending into a fertile valley, through which a large river ran towards the south-east. This, we learned from a group of dark-skinned natives, who at first threatened us but afterwards became friendly, was known to them as the Ba-bai. The men, savages of coppery hue, were apparently hunters of the Bangbai, a powerful tribe who were constantly carrying carnage and victory far and wide southward, in the direction of the mighty Congo, and who were held in awe by all the neighbouring tribes. Of these Tiamo, who found he could converse with them in his native dialect, inquired whether they had any knowledge of the rock we sought, but with one accord they shook their heads, and replied, raising their bows and spears towards the sky. Their answer, as rendered into Arabic by the dwarf, was,—

“Of the Rock of the Great Sin our fetish-men have told for long ages. It is said to be far away in the sky. It cannot be on the earth, our spearmen have travelled all over the earth, and none has seen it.”

So, ever failing to find a clue, we continued our way through the lands of the Gaberi and the Sara, along the bank of the Ba-bai, which sometimes wound through wide, rocky wildernesses, at others through valleys where palms and bananas grew in wondrous profusion, and often through forests and mangrove swamps that occupied us many days in traversing, where there was an equatorial verdure of eternal blossom and the foliage was of brightest green.

All along the bank of the Ba-bai, as we ascended still further, pressing deeper into the country of the pagans, there were forests of uniform breadth, overshadowing warm, inert waters—forests full of poisonous odours and venomous reptiles. This country, as all of the great land of Central Africa, rested under a spell of sombre gloom and appalling silence; yet it was a great relief for the eye, fevered and weary after the glaring monotony of desert sands.

For a whole moon we continued our journey due south along the winding river, until one night we came to a point where the waters broke off in two directions to the north and to the south. Northward, I supposed it would take us away into the desert again, therefore I chose the smaller river running up from the south, and for many days we travelled onward, learning from the natives of a strange little village, who seemed generally well-disposed towards us, that the river was known to them as the Bahar-el-Ardh, and that it had its source in the dense forest where lived the fierce people called the Niam-niam, whose flights of poisoned arrows had killed many of their bravest warriors.

Up this river we journeyed many days, until at length, near its source, we came to a village of conical huts, the denizens of which viewed us with suspicion, and threatened us with their long, razor-edged spears.

When, however, I had assured the chief, who sat before his little hut, that I was not one of the Wara Sura, the soldiers of the dreaded slave-raider, Kabba Rega, who periodically visited their country, devastated their land and carried off their cattle, and we both became convinced that friendship was possible, the mystery of our presence was explained by Tiamo, that we were only travelling to discover a great rock which was reported to be in their country. Had he ever heard of such a rock?

He answered eagerly: “Meanest thou the Great Rock where dwelleth the bird-god Zu, ‘the wise one’?”

“I know not thy gods, for I am a son of Al-Islâm, and follower of the Prophet,” I replied, through the dwarf. “Tell me of thy bird-god.”

“Zu dwelleth upon the summit of a high rock,” he answered. “It was he who stole the tablets of destiny and the secrets of the sun ‘god of light,’ and brought them down to earth, but he himself was banished to the summit of the Rock of the Great Sin, where he dwelleth alone, and may not descend among us.”

“And the rock. Hast thou never seen it?”

“I have heard of it, but mine eyes have never gazed upon it. Our sacred spots are always hidden from us.”

“From whom hast thou heard mention of it?” I inquired of this chieftain of the Niam-niam.

“Some men of the Avisibba, who were taken prisoners by me in a fight long ago, made mention that one of their headmen had seen it. They knew not its direction, but thought it was beyond the Forest of Perpetual Night.”

“And the Avisibba. Who are they? Where is their country?” I demanded, eagerly.

“Continue up this river for twelve days, until thou comest to a point where three streams diverge. Take the centre one, which in nine days will lead thee through the country of Abarmo to Bangoya, thence, travelling due south for fourteen days, thou wilt reach the great river the Aruwimi, upon the banks of which dwell the man-eaters of the Avisibba.”

“Man-eaters!” I gasped. “Do they eat human flesh?”

The chief smiled as Tiamo put my question to him. “Yea,” he answered. “They eat their captives, therefore have a care of thine own skin. Mention no word that thou hast seen me, or, being our enemies, thou wilt assuredly die.”

I thanked him for his directions, and prepared to resume my weary quest, but he bade me be seated, and his wives prepared a feast for myself and my dark companion. Heartily enough we ate, for the food we had brought with us had given out long ago. One’s living in that region, unexplored only by ivory and slave-raiders, was, to say the least, precarious; partaking of a savage’s hospitality one day, and the next thanking Allah for a single wood-bean. But through our many hardships Tiamo never grumbled. He fingered his amulets, and presumably prayed to his gods, but no word of dissatisfaction ever fell from his lips. Though gloomy and taciturn, he proved an excellent travelling companion, and his devotion towards his mistress Azala was unequalled. When his mind was made up, he was a man of great nerve, fertile resource, and illimitable daring. At the invitation of the chief of the Niam-niam, we smoked and remained that night within his village, circular and stockaded to keep out the wild animals, then at dawn gave him a piece of cloth and bade him farewell.

Chapter Twenty Three.

The Forest of Perpetual Night.

Onward, along the track by the river bank, penetrating deeper and deeper into the great, limitless, virgin forest of the Congo—that region absolutely unknown to civilised man—we proceeded by paths very infrequently employed, under dark depths of bush, where our progress was interrupted every few minutes by the tangle. For food, we had tubers of manioc; for drink, the water of the river.

Approaching the native town of Bangoya, I climbed into a tree to view it; but not liking the savage look of the people, we avoided the place, and, acting on the advice we had received, left the river bank and turned towards the great Forest of Perpetual Night, striking due south in search of the Aruwimi river, and the cannibals of the Avisibba, who knew the whereabouts of the Rock of the Great Sin.

As we left the river we commenced to tramp over primeval swamps, almost impenetrable, and low-lying land that had been submerged by the winter flood. We were alone, in a trackless, unexplored land, far from cities and the ways of men. The moon glanced in through the leaf gaps, like a face grown white with fear; the bright-plumaged birds fluttered and chattered, disturbed, and a wind stole through the tree tops, with a sound like the roar of ocean’s wrath heard in the calm of ocean’s depths. Nor foot of man, nor foot of beast had trodden large areas of those pathless thickets—save, perhaps, some homeless elephant—since the days of an elder creation, and one’s imagination could fancy the giant lizards and extinct amphibians without incongruity in such desolate wilds. In parts all Nature was still, in that wide, pestilential swamp that gave entrance to the virgin forest; neither bird nor monkey disturbed the silence, unless it be a crocodile moving slowly in the ooze, a long-legged wader, or a solemn crane. Soon, however, the ground became drier, the trees more thick, and at last we plunged into the wonderful forest of which I had long ago heard so much from negro slaves, even away in far-off Omdurman—the huge, towering forest and jungly undergrowth that covers an area of over three hundred thousand square miles of the centre of the African continent. Here, one can travel for six whole moons, through forest, bush and jungle, without seeing a piece of grassland the size of a praying-mat. Nothing but leagues and leagues—endless leagues of gigantic, gloomy forest, in various stages of growth, and various degrees of altitude, according to the ages of the trees, with varying thickness of undergrowth, according to the character of the foliage, which afforded thicker or slighter shade.

Throughout many days we strode on fast through the mighty trees, and forced our way onward, travelling always southward as near as we could guess, through this primeval forest, a journey fraught with more terrors than any we had previously experienced. The great trunks, gloomy, gaunt and sombre, grew so thickly as to shut out the blessed light of the sun, therefore, even at high noon, there was only twilight, and, for many hours each day, we were in darkness—impenetrable and appalling. Had it not been that I was convinced we should ere long reach the Aruwimi, I should have turned back, but, once having plunged into that trackless forest, there was no returning.

The attacks upon us by insects drove us almost to the verge of madness. By day tiny beetles bored underneath the skin and pricked one like needles; the mellipona bee troubled one’s eyes; ticks, small and large, sucked one’s blood; wasps in swarms came out to the attack as we passed their haunts; the tiger-slug dropped from the branches and left his poisonous hairs in the pores of the skin; and black ants fell from the trumpet-trees as we passed underneath, and gave us a foretaste of Al-Hawiyat. At night there were frequent storms; trees were struck by the lightning, and the sound of the tempest-torn foliage was like the roar of the breakers on a rocky shore. Snakes, chimpanzees and elephants were among our companions, while the crick of the cricket, the shrill, monotonous piping of the cicada, the perpetual chorus of frogs, the doleful cry of the lemur were among the sounds that rendered night in that lone land hideous and repulsive.

Suffering severely from hunger, without light or sunshine, and compelled to be ever on the alert lest we should be attacked, it was a journey full of terrors. The tribes of the forest were, I knew, the most vicious on the face of the earth, and every noise of breaking twigs, or of the falling of decayed branches, caused us to halt with our rifles in readiness. The legs of our asses had been rendered bare by the myriads of insects, and the centipedes, mammoth beetles and mosquitoes caused us considerable pain, yet that unexplored forest was full of fascinating wonders. Many of the trees, weird and grotesque, were centuries old, and some giants—the teak, the camwood, the mahogany, the green-heart, the stinkwood, the ebony, the copal-wood with its glossy foliage, the arborescent mango, the wild orange with delicate foliage, stately acacias, and silver-boled wild fig towered to enormous heights, and over them, from tree to tree, ran millions of beautiful vines, streaming with countless tendrils, with the bright green of orchid leaves. Great lengths of whip-like calamus lianes twisted like dark serpents, masses of enormous flowering convolvuli and red knots of amoma and crimson dots of phrynia berries were confusedly intertwined and matted until all light from heaven was obscured, except a stray beam here and there which told that the sun was shining and it was day above. The midnight silence of the forest dropped about us like a pall.

As we struggled onward, existing as best we could upon roots and fruit, and with our clothes torn to shreds by the brambles, thoughts of Azala constantly occurred to me. Of time I had kept no count, but already four moons must have passed since I had left Kano. Perhaps the conspiracy between the Khalifa and Khazneh, Aga of the Women, had been carried out, but having sent warning of it by Ayesha to Azala, I felt assured that the woman I loved would place his Majesty on his guard, and the base machinations of the pair of scoundrels would be frustrated, and the Empire saved from those who were seeking its overthrow.

Azala trusted in me to elucidate the mystery. Her deep, earnest request uttered before we parted, rang ever in my ears in that trackless, lonely region, her words stimulated me to strive onward to ascertain from the fierce savages of the Avisibba the whereabouts of the Rock of the Great Sin.

“What time has elapsed since we set forth?” I asked of Tiamo, one day as we plodded doggedly forward.

“Nearly four moons, O master,” he answered, promptly. “See! I have notched the days upon my gun’s stock,” and he held out his gun, showing how he had preserved a record of time. I told him to continue to keep count of each day, then asked him if anxiety or fear possessed him.

“I am the slave of the beauteous Lalla, sent on a quest to bring her peace. Thou art her devoted friend. While thou leadest me I fear not to follow,” and mumbling, he fingered his amulets.

“Be it as Allah willeth,” I said. “Peradventure he will reward us, and gladden our eyes with a sight of the mystic rock. If it is anywhere on earth it is in these regions, unknown to all but the ivory-raiders who come up from the Congo and return thither.”

“Let us search, O master,” the dwarf, said encouragingly. “Though our stomachs are empty and our feet sore from long tramping, yet if we continue we shall find the river.”

“Bravely spoken, Tiamo,” I answered. “Thou art well named El-Sadic. Yea, we will continue our search, for with a light heart and perseverance much can be accomplished. Though of small stature, thou hast indeed a stout heart.”

He grinned with satisfaction, and we trudged onward in silence through the falling gloom, resolved to bear our weariness bravely for the sake of the beautiful woman who, imprisoned in the great, far-off palace, was watching and waiting anxiously for our return to release her by solving the secret.

The strange device that seemed to link our lives puzzled me even in that dark forest, and many hours I remained silent, wondering whether I should ever ascertain how we both came to bear marks exactly similar in every detail.

Chapter Twenty Four.

A Pagan Land.

In that dull, dispiriting gloom I knew not the time of the maghrib or the isha, nor the direction of the Ka’abah of the Holy City, nevertheless I spread my mat and prayed fervently to Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful, to allow the light of his blessing to shine upon me and guide my footsteps to where I might obtain the clue I sought. Tiamo stood regarding me with a look which plainly told that he considered my prayers as mere empty forms and ceremonies. One of his peculiarities was that he believed not in Allah nor in his apostle Mohammed, and holding the pious in contempt, he placed faith in spirits, magic and sacrifices to the pagan deities.

Having toiled on in the forest for twenty days and discovering no sign of the Aruwimi, we began seriously to doubt whether we were not penetrating those sunless glades in the wrong direction, and travelling parallel with the river instead of towards its bank. Without sun or star to guide us, we were wandering beneath the giant trees, the foliage and creepers of which had become so dense that now and then further progress in that depressing darkness seemed impossible. Yet ever and anon we found tracks of elephants and hippopotami, which we took, our eyes ever strained before us to behold some welcome gleam of light which would show us where ran the river.

All was dark, gloomy, rayless. Though neither of us admitted it, we both were aware that we were lost amid that primeval mass of tropical vegetation, into the depths of which even the savages themselves dare not venture. We had one day crossed a number of small swamps, and thick, scum-faced quagmires, green with rank weeds, emitting a stench most sickening, and on emerging from the foetid slough into which our feet sank at every step, a dozen black heads suddenly appeared above the undergrowth.

Next second, ere we could recover from our surprise, the weird echoes of the forest were awakened by fiendish yells, as twenty black warriors, veritable companions of the left hand, wearing strange head-dresses with black tufts of feathers, and unclothed save for a piece of bark-cloth around their loins, and a thick pad of goatskin on the left arm to protect it from the bow string, bounded towards us, running long and low, with heads stretched forward and spears trailing, shouting, brandishing their long, broad-headed weapons, and drawing their bows ready to send their poisoned arrows through our bodies.

They had evidently lain in ambush, believing us to be scouts of Kabba Rega, or of Ugarrowwa, Abed bin Salem, or some other ivory-raider from the Congo, and so suddenly did they appear, screaming, threatening and gesticulating, that I deemed it best to throw down my rifle and raised my hands to show I had no hostile intent. Seized quickly by these tall, slim, thick-lipped, monkey-eyed men, who bore quivers full of arrows smeared freshly with a dark, copal-coloured substance, we were dragged onward in triumph for nearly two hours, preceded by a band of leaping, exultant warriors who, from the interest they took in our asses and the close manner in which they all scrutinised them, I judged had never seen such animals before.

One of our captors, snatching my rifle from my grasp, held it aloft in glee, crying,—

“Tippu-tib! Tippu-tib!” whereat his companions laughed and yelled triumphantly.

This incident brought to my memory that the renown of the relentless slave-raider Tippu-Tib had reached Omdurman, and that this name had been bestowed upon him by the natives because the noise made by the rifles of his dreaded band sounded like “tippu-tib.” This savage’s joy when, a few moments later, on touching the trigger the rifle discharged, was unbounded. The others crowded around him, chattering and gesticulating like apes, then finding they could not cause another explosion they handed it to me, compelling me to reload it. Again it was fired, one of the dusky denizens of the forest narrowly escaping, for the bullet struck his head-dress and carried it away, much to the amusement of his companions.

While this was proceeding our position was exceedingly critical. As prisoners in the hands of these vicious warriors our lives were in greatest danger, and whither they were hurrying us we knew not.

As in sorry plight we were dragged forward, Tiamo addressed a question to one of the sinewy savages who held him. At first it was apparent that their tongue was different to any he knew, but after some questions and replies, the dwarf, in a wail of dismay, cried to me in Arabic,—

“We are lost, O master! We are lost!”

“Keep a stout heart,” I answered. “We may yet escape.”

“Alas! never,” he answered, in despair. “We have fallen into the hands of the ghoulish Avisibba!”

“It is these men of whom we have been in search,” I observed.

“Yea, O master! But have we not been told that they kill and eat their captives? Have we not been warned that they are among the fiercest cannibals of the Forest of the Congo?”

The truth of his assertion I could not deny. I glanced at the two half-nude warriors who held me, and saw their white teeth had been filed to points. The distinguishing mark upon their bodies appeared to be double rows of tiny cicatrices across the chest and abdomen; they wore wristlets of polished metal, several small rings in their ears, and around their necks I distinguished in the twilight objects which caused me to shudder in horror. Each wore around his neck a string of human teeth!

Roughly they dragged us onward, until presently we struck a native path tramped by travel to exceeding smoothness and hardness, but so narrow that we were compelled to walk in single file through the dense jungle. The path diverged suddenly at a point where a tree trunk had fallen across it, and this point was avoided by my captors, who, instead of stepping over the obstruction, plunged into the jungle and rejoined the path further on. The reason of this I was not slow in ascertaining. I found that in that fallen tree was one of the defences of the village we were approaching. Just beyond the trunk, where the stranger would place his foot in stepping over it, these crafty forest satyrs had placed a number of sharp skewers smeared with arrow-poison, concealed by dead leaves that had apparently floated down from the trees. Therefore, an enemy approaching would receive a puncture, which in a few minutes would result in death.

Suddenly, through the gnarled boles of the trees before us, we saw a gleam of blue sky, and shortly afterwards found ourselves at a small clearing on the bank of a broad river, which our captors told us was the Nouellie, or, as some termed it, the Aruwimi. At the bank two war-canoes were moored near a small village, and our asses having been carefully tethered we were placed in one of the boats, and, escorted by the remainder of the yelling, exultant cannibals, rowed up the winding river a considerable distance, keeping along the opposite bank.

It was evident we were to be taken to the principal village, being regarded as valuable prizes.

Accustomed as my companion and myself had grown to the perpetual twilight, the sudden sunlight and brilliance of day dazzled us. The waters seemed stagnant and motionless; the sun was at its zenith, and the heat so terrible that even the black rowers, in spite of their exultation at having captured two strangers, ceased rowing for a few moments, keeping in the deep shadows of the mangroves and allowing the canoe to drift. Again they rowed, and the boat, dividing the waters, continued its sinuous course up the river, threading its way quickly between the sombre forests. Upon the banks we could see great blue alligators, stretched lazily in the mud, their slimy mouths agape, as on their backs perched tiny, white birds, resting to plume themselves. On the entwining, interlacing roots of the mangroves, brilliant martin-fishers and curious lizards took their afternoon siesta, while butterflies, with gorgeous wings, flitted here and there, sparkling like jewels in the sunshine.

The scene was brilliant and beautiful after the darkness of the Great Forest, but we had no time to admire the river’s charms, for in a few moments our canoe was turned suddenly into a creek, our captors sprang ashore, dragging us out, and while several men ran on in front to announce in the village the arrival of prisoners, the others pushed us forward with scant politeness.

As soon as we came within sight of the village—a large collection of low huts surrounded by a tall palisade, which we learned was called Avisibba—hundreds of yelling savages of both sexes came forth to meet us, and as we were triumphantly dragged along the wide space between the two rows of huts, the crowd pressed around us, heaping curses upon us, and causing a continual and ear-splitting din. Between the village and the Aruwimi was a belt of forest about two gunshots wide. Each house was surrounded by strong, tall palisades of split logs, higher than a man, which rendered the place defensible even against rifles, and as we were marched into the centre of the place with our captors holding up our rifles, exhibiting them to the people, I noticed their threatening expressions.

The populace were urging their warriors to kill us, and I feared the worst. Pondering on the difficulties of the situation, I could discern no ray of hope for the success of my mission.

When, however, our belongings had been thoroughly examined by the people in the centre of the village, the excitement slowly abated, and after every man, woman and child had come to gaze upon us with open-mouthed curiosity, we were lashed securely to two trees opposite one another and left to our own sad thoughts while our savage captors leaped, beat their tam-tams and held great rejoicings within our sight, pointing in our direction and capering gleefully before us.

In the centre of the village we could see men and women busily constructing some kind of platform of roughly-hewn logs. Transfixed with horror, our breath came and went quickly. We knew that these people were fierce cannibals of bad repute, and, bound and helpless, dreaded the worst.

They were erecting a kind of rude altar whereon our life-blood was to be shed, and our hearts torn out and held up to the execration of the dusky, screaming mob.

Chapter Twenty Five.

Avisibba.

Slowly the shadows lengthened as the fierce, chattering horde ran hither and thither, scattering the goats and fowls in their haste to prepare the platform. Upon a large and malodorous refuse-heap, close to the spot where we were secured, many human skulls and bones had been flung, showing only too plainly that the Avisibba were eaters of human flesh. The sun-blanched skulls, of which there were scores, thrilled us with horror, for their presence spoke mutely of the horrible fate awaiting us. Presently, something white attracted my attention at a little distance beyond the pile of village refuse, and almost at the same moment we both discovered that we were not the only prisoners in the hands of the Avisibba, but that two other men were secured to large stakes at a little distance from us. The white garment that had attracted my attention was a burnouse, and, to my amazement, I saw that its wearer was an Arab, and that his companion in misfortune was a half-clothed savage of a dusky copper hue.

“Hail! Son of Al-Islâm! Whence comest thou?” I shouted in Arabic, endeavouring to attract his attention. But my greeting was lost amid the shrill yells and unceasing chatter of our merciless captors. A group of the black warriors, each wearing a strip of bark-cloth and a necklet of human teeth, noticing my effort to arouse my fellow-prisoner, leaped before me, gesticulating, shouting gleefully, grinning from ear to ear and rubbing their paunches with their hands with lively anticipation.

Again I shouted to my luckless fellow-prisoner, but Tiamo remarked, “See! his chin hath fallen upon his breast. The sun hath stricken him, and he hath lost consciousness. Only his cords save him from falling prone to earth.”

The dwarf spoke the truth. No doubt my co-religionist had remained bound to the stake during the whole day, and there being no shade, thirst and heat had consumed him. Whence he came was a complete mystery. I was unaware that any Arab had penetrated the terrible Forest of Perpetual Night, and it suddenly occurred to me that possibly there might be some approach to the Aruwimi from the sunlit land of Al-Islâm other than that we had traversed.

From these fierce, pugnacious savages, who set no value upon human life, I could obtain knowledge of the whereabouts of the Rock of the Great Sin! They were indeed of those who have erred and denied Allah as a falsehood, and who shall eat of the fruit of the tree of Al-Zakkum, and fill their bellies therewith, and shall drink boiling water. I looked upon the strange, weird group dancing around us, ready to take our lives and cast our bones upon the refuse-heap, wondering how I could propitiate them and obtain the knowledge I sought.

“Speak unto them, Tiamo,” I cried. “Explain that we are not enemies; that we are only belated wayfarers in search of the Great Rock.”

The dwarf addressed them, but apparently they did not catch the meaning of his words, for they only laughed the more.

“A hundred times, O my master, have I told them of our quest,” Tiamo answered, dolefully. “But, alas! they will not listen. They declare that we are spies of Kaba Rega; that we shall die.”

“Are the others spies?” I inquired.

“I know not. They will not loosen their tongues’ strings.”

It was evident we were in a very critical position, and I cried unto Allah to place before me the shield of his protection. Years ago I had heard, during my studies at the French Lycée at Algiers, that almost all the races in the Great Forest of the Congo practise cannibalism, although in some parts it is prevented by the presence of white civilisation. An extensive traffic in human flesh prevails in many districts, slaves being kept and sold as articles of food. Contrary to an ignorant yet very generally accepted theory, the negro man-eater never eats flesh raw, and certainly takes human flesh as food purely and simply, and not from religious or superstitious reasons. Among the Avisibba we saw neither grey-haired persons, halt, maimed nor blind, for even parents were eaten by their children on the approach of the least sign of old age.

We saw skulls used as drinking-vessels, and even as we waited, breathlessly apprehensive of our fate, we witnessed our captors piling up a great fire near the platform with dried sticks and leaves. So full of horror was each moment that it seemed an hour. The excitement in the village increased. Men brandishing their spears, and women wearing bunches of freshly-plucked leaves at the back of their loin-cloths in honour of the coming feast, leaped, danced and roared with bull voices. Little black children came and looked at me curiously, no doubt remarking upon the whiteness of my skin in comparison with theirs; then ran away, dancing and clapping their hands, infected with the wild, savage glee of their elders.

The sun sank, the dusk deepened, and as there gathered the shadows of a starless night, the blazing fire in the centre of the village threw a red, lurid glare upon the fantastic-looking huts, the crowds of savages, and the thick foliage of the primeval forest by which we were surrounded. Presently there was a great stir among the warriors, mats were hurriedly spread beneath a sickly dwarf tree near to where we were, the great ivory horns gave forth mellow blares, reminding me of the Khalifa’s Court at Omdurman, and from among the excited crowd the chief of the Avisibba, a tall, thin-featured savage, wearing a fine leopard-skin, advanced and seated himself upon the low stool placed for him. The flickering light from the fire showed that beneath the strange square helmet of burnished copper, surmounted by a large bunch of parrot’s feathers, was a face full of humour, pleasure and contentment.

When the whole village had assembled before him, pointing towards us, shouting and gesticulating violently, he suddenly turned and spoke briefly and low to his sub-chiefs and satellites. There was an instant’s silence until the sub-chiefs spoke. Then wild, piercing yells, truly the war-cry of cannibals, awakened the echoes of the forest as the whole dusky horde rushed off to where our fellow captives were secured.

It was evident they were to be sacrificed first.

A few moments later the bonds that had held the copper-hued negro to the stake were loosened, and he was hurried by a dozen warriors into the presence of their chief, amid a storm of triumphant cries. The courage displayed by the unfortunate captive was indomitable. Folding his arms, he stood before the chief of his enemies, gazing upon him with withering contempt. The onlookers were silent. The chief, squatting upon his low, six-legged stool, uttered some fierce words, apparently interrogating him, to which the doomed man replied with scornful gesture.

Again the tall warrior in the copper helmet gave the victim a quick glance, his eyes gleaming with unearthly glitter in his almost featureless face, and repeated his question; but the proud forest-dweller reared his tall body up, raising his voice until his words reached me. Tiamo was equally startled with myself, for the half-naked savage was speaking in Arabic, apparently ignorant of the tongue of the cannibals.

Standing calmly before the chief, he delivered some terrible curses upon him, while the crowd of savages were silent, striving to understand his meaning.

“Thou art a dog, and a son of a dog,” he shouted. “Cursed is he who breaketh his plighted vow; cursed is he who nourisheth secret hate; cursed is he who turneth his back upon his friend; cursed is he who in the day of war turneth his back against his brother; cursed is he who eateth the flesh of his enemies; cursed is he who defileth his mouth with human blood; cursed is he who deviseth evil to his friend whose blood has become one with his own. May sickness waste his strength and his days be narrowed by disease; may his limbs fail him in the day of battle, and may his arms stiffen with cramps; may the adder wait for him by the path, and may the lion meet him on his way; may the itch make him loathsome and the hair of his head be lost by the mange; may the arrow of his enemies pin his entrails, and may the spear of his brother be dyed in his vitals. May a blight fall upon thine accursed land, O Sheikh! May thy wives be seized as slaves by the pigmies of the Wambutti, and may the vengeance of Allah, the One Mighty and Just, descend upon thee. May thy face be rolled in hell-fire, and thy torment be perpetual; may the flame and smoke surround thee like a pavilion, and if thou cravest relief may thy thirst by slacked by the water that shall scald thy countenance like molten brass. I am in thy hands; verily, Allah will punish him who taketh the life of a Believer. Whoever shall have wrought evil shall be thrown on his face into the fire unquenchable.” The fierce rabble gazed at each other, puzzled and unable to understand a single syllable.

“Well spoken!” I cried excitedly, in Arabic. “If it is Allah’s will that we die, we fear not. It is written that the One Omniscient favoureth the Faithful, and lighteneth his burden.”

The captive started at hearing words in the tongue he understood, and turned in my direction; but we were in the shadow, therefore it was evident he could not distinguish us.

The silence was unbroken for a few seconds, save by the ominous crackling of the fire, while the chief consulted with his satellites; then the latter, waving their hands, uttered some words. A big warrior placed the ivory horn to his lips and blew thrice lustily, and in a moment the scene was one of intense excitement. Fifty impatient pairs of hands seized the luckless man, and allowing him no further utterance, hurried him away to the small platform ten yards distant, within full view of us.

Scarce daring to look, I held my breath. The howls of wild beasts were heard in the forest. Yet curiosity prompted me to ascertain in what mode my own life was shortly to be taken, and I gazed, fascinated, at the black figures moving and dancing in the red light thrown by the burning branches, like demons let loose from Al-Hawiyat. Suddenly a shrill scream of agony rent the night air, and sent a thrill of horror through me. Then I could see that our captors had stretched the unfortunate wretch upon his stomach on the planks of the platform, and while twenty pairs of hands held him firmly down, incantations were being uttered by a man shaking pebbles in a magic gourd, while at the same time a black giant was wielding a huge club of black wood, relentlessly breaking the bones of the victim’s arms and legs.

I closed my eyes to shut out the sight. With the wild Ansar of the Khalifa I had witnessed many fearful tortures to which prisoners had been subjected, but never before had I seen a man’s limbs crushed in so methodical and heartless a manner. The victim’s screams and groans grew fainter until they ceased entirely, for he had lost consciousness under the excruciating pain. When again I summoned courage to glance in his direction, I observed that four men had seized him, and were carrying his inanimate form towards the narrow stream that flowed swiftly by on its way to join the Aruwimi. The fire, at that moment stirred by an enthusiast, illumined the village brilliantly, enabling me to watch the subsequent movements of these ghoulish fiends. At first it appeared that they were about to wash or drown their captive, but such proved not to be the case, for three of the men jumped into the stream, and, pulling in the helpless victim, still alive, they tied him to a stake in the water, with his head firmly fixed in a forked stick above the surface, in order to prevent him from committing suicide by drowning on regaining consciousness. Then I remembered that long ago I had heard a rumour that this tribe were in the habit of placing the body, thus mutilated and still living, in water for periods varying from two hours to two or three days, on the supposition that this pre-mortem treatment rendered the flesh more palatable. I shuddered.

Chapter Twenty Six.

The Ivory-Raiders.

Those moments were full of torments, fears and anxieties. Neither Tiamo nor myself uttered a word. We knew our fate, and awaited it, overwhelmed by misfortune. Assuredly a grievous punishment is prepared for the unjust. For many moons we had toiled onward together, surmounting every obstacle, penetrating the Forest of Perpetual Night, wherein none from the north had ever dared to venture, until our features had become famine-sharpened, and our feet blistered and torn. Yet we had endured the privations, faced the terrors of the dark, dismal forest, and the poisoned arrows of hidden enemies; had fed for weeks upon the flat wood-beans, acid wild fruit and strange fungi, encouraged to strive for existence by the knowledge that here, amid these primitive denizens of the woods, we could obtain a clue to the whereabouts of the mystic rock we sought—the spot where was promised a solution of the one extraordinary mystery of my life. Never once had Tiamo hesitated or failed. He was as true to me as to his mistress, Azala, and ofttimes in the depths of the great, gloomy region he had urged me to look forward with hope to a triumphant return to Kano and to the graceful, true-hearted woman who loved me so dearly.

But having fallen into the hands of the Avisibba all further progress towards the mystic Land of the No Return was arrested. Vainly I had looked about for some mode of escape, but, alas! could discover none. With these fierce warriors all argument and declarations of friendship had proved futile. They were man-eaters, who looked upon all captives as lawful food; and we knew that our fate could not be much longer delayed.

The Arab, who had not yet regained consciousness, was the next victim dragged into the chief’s presence. Quickly he was divested of his burnouse, and the chief, rising with imperious gesture, bade his attendants array him in the cloak of his prisoner. As he wrapped it about him with a self-satisfied air, the people raised their voices in admiration, and at a sign dragged the unconscious wretch towards his doom.

Already the pebbles rattled in the magic gourd, and above the chatter of the dusky rabble, incantations were sounding loudly, when my eyes, turned purposely from the horrible sight, suddenly caught a glimpse of an object slowly-moving over the roof of plantain-leaves that covered one of the huts. Again I looked, with eyes strained into the dark night, and distinguished the figure of a man, lying full length upon the roof, creep cautiously along and peer over at the weird scene. Suddenly another dark head appeared against the night sky, and as I glanced around at other huts, I saw a man lying flat upon the roof of each.

Almost before I could fully realise that the operations of the cannibals were being watched so narrowly, a red flash of fire showed where the first mysterious figure was kneeling, followed by the report of a gun, and next second the chief fell forward from his stool, dead—shot through the heart.

Startled by the report, the whole village was instantly in confusion, but ere they could discover whence the shot was fired, a withering volley was poured into them from the roofs of the huts, by which many fell dead and wounded. Then we became aware that the village was the object of attack, and, by the flashing of the guns on every side, knew it was surrounded. The ivory horn was sounded, and the Avisibba responded with alacrity to the call to arms, but volley after volley was poured into the centre of the place, and bullets were whistling about us and tearing their way through the foliage overhead.

The first shot had been well aimed, but although their chief was dead, the warriors, shouting defiance in loud, strident tones, seized their spears, shields and bows, and commenced to shoot their poisoned arrows wherever a flash betrayed the position of an enemy. Who, we wondered, were the assailants? Their possession of guns told us nothing, as many of the cannibal tribes near the Congo possess firearms. Nevertheless, the attack would probably result in our lives being spared, therefore we pressed ourselves as closely as we could to the trees to which we were bound and awaited the result.

For fully five minutes our mysterious assailants kept up a rapid rifle fire. The air was filled with the uproar of the shouts, as the mass of noisy, lusty-voiced cannibals defended their homes with arrow and spear, but, finding that each volley maimed or killed some of their number, they at length swarmed out of the roughly-made wooden gate of the village to repel the attack in the open, leaving their women and children behind.

The great fire burned low, but upon the platform I could distinguish the inanimate form of the Arab, stretched as it had been left, and the body of the cannibal chief was still lying where it had fallen, his plumed helmet having been assumed by his son. Beyond the stockade enclosing the rows of huts, the din of heavy firing increased, and the yells of the savages rose louder as the fight continued, until, at length, one or two wounded natives staggered back to their homes and fell to earth, each being quickly surrounded by a chattering crowd of excited women. At length the savage shrieks outside sounded fainter, the firing seemed to recede, as if the natives had taken to the forest, and their assailants were following them, when suddenly, from the roofs there dropped a dozen men, wearing white gandouras, firing their guns indiscriminately at the women, in order to frighten them into submission as prisoners, and, as they did this, about two hundred others swarmed in from the opposite direction, having entered by the gate.

I stood staring at them—amazed. They were shouting in my own tongue!—they were Arabs! To two of the men who rushed past us, I cried in Arabic to release me; and, finding I was one of their race, and that Tiamo was my slave, they quickly drew their jambiyahs and severed our bonds.

Delighted, we both dashed forward, and regained freedom. A dozen of our rescuers were trying to resuscitate their unfortunate tribesman lying on the planks, and were so far successful that he was soon able to stand. The attack had been delivered just at the right moment; had it been delayed another instant his limbs would have been shattered by the heavy mace. Meanwhile, into the village there continued to pour large numbers of Arabs, with their negro allies, and, while some secured and bound the women and children as slaves, the remainder entered and looted the huts of everything that was considered of value. Once or twice, men near me received wounds from the arrows of a few cannibals lurking around corners, therefore, I deemed it prudent to seize the gun and ammunition bag of a dead Arab, an example imitated by Tiamo.

Up to this moment we knew not the identity of our half-caste rescuers, for all were so excited that we could learn nothing. Presently, however, when the women and children had been marched outside to join the warriors who had been taken as prisoners, I gave one of the Arabs “peace,” and expressed thanks for my timely rescue.

“It is Allah’s work, O friend. Thank him,” he answered, piously.

“Of what tribe art thou? Whence comest thou?” I inquired, eagerly.

“We come from the Kivira (forest). We are the men of Tippu-Tib,” he answered.

“Tippu-Tib!” I echoed, dismayed, well-knowing that these ferocious bandits were the ivory-raiders whose sanguinary and destructive marches were common talk, even in Omdurman. Tippu-Tib was, according to rumour in the Soudan, the uncrowned king of the region between Stanley Falls and Tanganyika Lake, for thousands of Arabs had flocked to his standard, and his well-armed caravans were dreaded everywhere throughout the Great Upper Congo Forest. In their search for stores of ivory they had, I afterwards learnt, levelled into black ashes every settlement they entered, enslaved the women and children, destroyed their plantain groves, split their canoes, searched every spot where ivory might be concealed, killed as many natives as craft and cruelty would enable them, and tortured others into disclosing where the treasure was hidden.

These bandits were now marching through the Great Forest for the sole purpose of pillage and murder, to kill the adult aborigines, capture the women and children for the Arab, Manuyema and Swahili harems, and seize all the ivory they could discover. In the wholesale slaughter that preceded the burning of the Avisibba village not a man was spared. The fight ended in a ghastly massacre. Some escaped into the depths of the forest, but the others were shot down to the last man. Then the fighting-men and slave-carriers searched every nook in the village until at length the chief’s store of ivory, consisting of over eighty fine tusks, was discovered secreted in a pit beneath one of the huts, and being unearthed, amid much excitement was distributed among the carriers. Afterwards the village was burned to the ground. Truly report had not lied when it attributed to the men of Tippu-Tib the most revolting, heartless cruelty and wanton destruction.

We had been rescued from a horrible death, but swiftly indeed had the curses of the man whose limbs had been so brutally crushed fallen upon the savage chief; swiftly indeed had Allah’s wrath fallen upon the village. Both our fellow captives had, I learned, been scouting at dawn on that day, and been seized by the Avisibba. Tippu-Tib was not present in person, preferring to remain away in the far south, near Ujiji, while his men gathered wealth for him; his head men, it was said, being rewarded with all ivories weighing from twenty to thirty pounds, all over that weight belonging to him, and those under being kept by the finders. By this arrangement every man in the caravan was incited to do his best, and it is little wonder that they should descend upon villages without mercy, each fighting-man and slave seeking to obtain the largest share of slaves, ivory and other loot. It is not surprising either that the very names of Tippu-Tib, Kilonga-Longa, Ugarrowwa, Mumi Muhala, Bwana Mohamed and other ivory-raiders, should be held in awe by the natives of the great tracts of primeval forest and grassland, covering thousands of square miles, between the country of the Niam-Niam and Lake Kassali and between Lake Leopold II and the unexplored Lake of Ozo.

There was delay in distributing the burdens among the carriers, delay in securing the sorrowing band of Avisibba women and children, delay in packing up the loot for transportation, and in cooking and eating the fowls, plantain flour, manioc and bananas which had been found in the huts. Therefore it was not until the shadows of the trees, creeping on as the sun passed overhead, reminded the raiders that the day was wearing on, that they left the smouldering ashes of the village to resume the march.

During the great feast that followed the fight, I had explained to Ngalyema, the half-breed headman, that I was an Arab from the north, and related how I and my slave had been seized in the forest and brought to the village as captives. When he had listened intently to my story, he said, laughing,—

“Allah hath willed thy release. Join our expedition and share the ivory with us, for assuredly we have been favoured on our journey, and have secured many tusks and hundreds of slaves,” and he lolled upon his arm and pulled apart a piece of fowl with his fingers. Finding I was a true-bred Arab, he had placed me on a social level with himself, and spoke openly.

“Whither goest thou?” I inquired.

“Eastward, up the river to Ipoto, where our headquarters are at present established. Thence we shall continue to ascend the Ituri to Kavalli’s, and afterwards to the grasslands that border the Albert Nyanza. But what mission bringest thou hither from the far north, without fighting-men?” he asked, looking at me sharply.

“I am in search of a spot, the direction of which none knoweth save Allah,” I answered, it having suddenly occurred to me, that perhaps, in the course of his wanderings, he might have obtained the knowledge of which I was in search.

“What is its name?”

“It is a wondrous black crag, and is known to those who live in the deserts as the Rock of the Great Sin.”

“The Rock of the Great Sin!” he slowly repeated, gazing at me in astonishment. “Thou, O friend, art not alone in seeking to discover it?”

“Not alone?” I cried. “Who seeketh it beside myself?”

“A white man who came to Uganda by smoke-boat across the Victoria Nyanza.”

“What was his name?” I asked, eagerly.

“I know not. He was a Roumi of the English, and one of Allah’s accursed.”

“Didst thou have speech with him?”

“Yea, he sought me at Masaka eight moons ago, and knowing that I had led my master’s caravan across the forest may times, asked me whether I could direct him to the Rock of the Great Sin, and—”

“And didst thou guide him thither?” I demanded, breathlessly.

“Nay. He offered two bags of gold and ten guns to any who would guide him thither, but unfortunately neither myself nor any of my followers knew its whereabouts.”

“Why did this tou bab (European) desire to discover it?” I asked.

“He did not reveal. I told him that within the rock was the place of torment prepared for unbelievers, but my words only increased his curiosity and anxiety to find it,” and the thick-lipped headman grinned.

“Then thou canst give me absolutely no information,” I observed, disappointedly. “Hast thou, in the course of thy many journeys afar, learned nothing of its existence beyond what the wise men and story-tellers relate?”

“Since I left Masaka I have, in truth, learned one thing,” he answered, his capacious mouth still full of food.

“What is it? Tell me,” I cried.

Ngalyema hesitated for a moment, then answered,—

“Three moons ago, during a raid upon one of the villages of the Wambutti pigmies, three days’ march into the forest from Ipoto, one of the dwarfs of the woods who fell into our hands told me he knew the whereabouts of the rock, and that it was far away, many, many days’ journey in the forest, and quite inaccessible.”

“In which direction?”

“I know not,” the headman answered. “The dwarf had been wounded by a gunshot, and pleaded for the release of his wife. I kept him while I settled a dispute which had arisen about some ivory we had discovered in the settlement, intending to question him further, but when I returned to where I had left him he was dead.”

“And his wife? Did she know anything?”

“No; she had heard of the rock as the dwelling-place of some pagan spirit that they feared, but knew not where it was situated.”

“Then, whither dost thou advise me to search for information? Among the pigmies of the Wambutti?”

“Yea. It is evident they are aware of its existence, though apparently they regard it as a sacred spot, and guard the secret of its existence jealously. The manner in which the dwarf appealed to me, declaring that he would disclose the secret if I released his wife, showed that he believed he was imparting to me information of the highest importance. What is hidden there I cannot tell; but it is strange that both the white man and thyself should desire to rest thine eyes upon it.”

“I have taken an oath to a woman to endeavour to discover it,” I answered, simply. “I will accompany thee in thy return towards the country of the pigmies and continue my search among them.”

“If thou goest among them, may the One Merciful grant thee mercy,” Ngalyema said.

“He alone can guide the footsteps and reveal that which is hidden,” I added. “Onward to Ipoto will I journey with thee, and strive to learn the secret of the forest-dwarfs. Of a verity will I follow the clue thou hast given unto me. Allah maketh abundant provision for such of his servants as he pleaseth. He knoweth whatever is in heaven and earth.”

Chapter Twenty Seven.

Ngalyema.

There is much truth in our Arab saying, that a day of pain appears everlasting if one does not dream of the bright to-morrow. A life’s unrest, indeed, seems but a day’s if one looks to the calm that Allah has promised shall be the reward of Believers. Beyond the pain and weariness is a white dawn, reunion and peace. Life with the fierce brigands of Tippu-Tib, the ivory king, was full of vicissitudes and horrors, as along the narrow native track, through the gloomy forest, we pushed forward.

Owing to the large number of rapids, it was impossible for the raiders to use the native canoes to ascend the Aruwimi on their return to Ipoto, where they had temporarily established themselves; therefore, in order to secure more ivory and slaves, Ngalyema had decided to take a route which ran into the forest, six days’ journey from the river, and which the guides assured us would follow the course of the Ituri and pass through a district where many settlements might be raided.

Compelled to travel in single file, our journey through the dark, endless Forest of Perpetual Night was slow, tedious and hazardous. At almost every step we were retarded by stumps, roots, climbers, convolvuli and green-scummed pools, while, by the absence of light, we were chilled and depressed, and the poisonous odours arising from the decaying mass of vegetation sickened us. Here and there, where the interlaced foliage overhead allowed the sunshine to struggle through, flocks of parrots screamed and whistled gleefully, and the tall tree-trunks looked grey and ghostly in the pale light; but our progress, creeping among the dense undergrowth, and climbing over fallen patriarchs of the forest, was full of anxiety. Plantains grew everywhere, therefore there was no lack of food; but the brutality with which the raiders treated their slaves caused a number of deaths ere we had been a dozen days on the march.

At length, one morning, the scouts, consisting of the two native guides, and about twenty Arabs, who were some distance ahead, rushed back with the news that they had come upon a large clearing, and that we were evidently approaching a village. The order to halt was immediately given, and Ngalyema himself, with a small force, went rapidly forward with the scouts to reconnoitre. In an hour they returned, stating that there were several villages in close proximity, and, with my gun ready, I accompanied the fighting-men in their dash forward. Passing across the clearing, where every plantain-stalk bore an enormous bunch of the fruit which filled the air with its odour, and where corn and sugar-canes were profusely cultivated, our pioneers suddenly came across a number of poisoned skewers, artfully concealed in the path, and these having been carefully picked out, we crept along, past a heap of bones of slaughtered game, to surround the settlement.

It was exciting work. We knew not whether the alarm had already been raised and the natives were lying in ambush. Each moment we expected to be greeted with a flight of poisoned arrows from the concealed defenders; but as we got within sight of the huts it seemed that our approach had been unnoticed.

Suddenly, however, the white garments of the raiders attracted attention, and in a few moments the village was in a tumult of apprehension. Without hesitation, our thick-lipped headman ordered the raiders to disperse into the jungle and surround the village, and as they dashed away and I took up a position behind a tree at a little distance from Tiamo, we could hear loud blasts being blown upon a horn.

In an instant the raiders opened a galling fire. A number of my fellow-marksmen had clambered up the adjacent trees, others were concealed in the dense undergrowth, while a small body still remained in the rear, prepared to charge when commanded. A few seconds after the alarm had been raised, the black warriors, armed with bows, arrows, shields and long spears, poured out of the stockade, yelling and brandishing their weapons, but so well had the attack been planned, that each volley of the Arabs felled dozens of the blacks.

Finding that we had got into ambush so cleverly, they retired immediately within their stockade, and from their cover launched flights of poisoned arrows in every direction. The missiles, the merest scratch from which would produce tetanus and death, swept through the foliage above us and stuck in the trunks of the trees in our vicinity, nevertheless wherever a black head or savage head-dress showed above the high stockade, it was picked off with unerring precision by our sharpshooters.

The rattle of musketry, however, had alarmed the neighbouring villages, and almost before we were aware of it we were attacked in the rear by a crowd of yelling savages armed with clubs and bows. For a few minutes our position appeared exceedingly critical; but this contingency had not been overlooked, for suddenly I noticed a number of our men, who had been left to guard the slaves, were drawing off the defenders’ reinforcement, and shooting them down with a cool recklessness that was surprising.

For half-an-hour the fierce fusillade continued, until at length Ngalyema gave the signal to charge. To this the Arabs quickly responded, and in a few moments had stormed the stockade and were inside, swarming over the huts, and fighting the savages hand-to-hand. The mêlée was exciting, but against guns savage weapons proved to be of little avail, and ere long a ruthless massacre of the unfortunate blacks became general. The very air was halituous of freshly-shed blood. As at Avisibba, the women and children were secured, the place looted, and every nook and corner searched, to discover the secreted tusks. None, however, could be found.

Ngalyema had evidently good cause for belief that a considerable amount of ivory had been collected, and after his men had proceeded to the three other small villages in the immediate vicinity, thoroughly searched them, and captured the defenceless portion of the inhabitants, the chief of the Avejeli, whose life had been spared, was brought before him. His name was Yakul, a stalwart savage, of proud bearing, wearing a loin-cloth of goatskin and a conical shaped head-dress ornamented with a swaling crimson plume, while upon his arms, wrists and ankles were four bangles fashioned from matako, the brass rods imported by white traders on the Congo.

Through one of the guides, who spoke the Monvu tongue, the headman of the raiders put a question, asking where his ivory was concealed. On hearing the inquiry, even before it was fully translated, he drew himself up, looked keenly into Ngalyema’s face, and answered,—

“Thou hast killed and enslaved my people, and thou mayest kill me. Thou art the friends of Tippu-Tib, against whom our wise men have long warned us. Finish thy dastardly shedding of blood. Kill me, and go.”

“We have no desire to kill thee,” the headman answered, with a smile. “Indeed, thou shalt regain thy liberty, and thy wives shall be returned unto thee if thou wilt disclose the hiding-place of thine ivory.”

“Thou hast destroyed my people. See now! Thou hast already applied the fire-brand unto my village!” he cried in fierce anger, shaking both his black fists. “Go. May the curse of the Evil Spirit who dwelleth in the darkness of the Great Forest, follow thee until death.”

“Pick out thy wives,” the other said, pointing to the large group of trembling women and children. “They are free, and likewise thyself, but the men of Tippu-Tib depart not hither until thou hast led them unto the place where thou hast concealed thy treasure.”

The chief’s fierce black eyes flashed with angry fire, as, waving his hand with a gesture of impatience, he replied,—

“Already have I answered.”

His four wives, however, watching the progress of the negotiations, and overhearing the offer of Ngalyema, dashed forward and flung themselves before their master, beseeching him to save his own life and theirs by disclosing the secret.

But he waved them aside with regal gesture, and folded his arms resolutely.

Then, one of the women rose, and turning to the Arab headman, said,—

“To save our lives I will reveal the spot unto thee. Come, it is but an arrow’s flight distant!”

The chief heard the words and sprang straight at her throat, but ere he could reach her the Arabs pulled him down. She stood erect and queenly, a splendid specimen of savage womanhood.

“Follow me,” she cried, wildly, and twenty of the raiders, myself included, sprang forward and accompanied her a little distance into the jungle until we came to a great ironwood-tree. For a moment she halted, with her back towards it, apparently taking bearings by a cottonwood-tree with silvery bark, and then, counting thirty paces in its direction, told us to search.

In a few minutes the dead leaves and fallen boughs were cleared, revealing a floor of hewn wood, and this being torn up the coveted treasure, consisting of more than a hundred magnificent tusks, was discovered beneath.

Shouting with glee, the raiders rushed back to their leader, announcing the news, and triumphantly dragging the chief’s wife back with them. Her three female companions cried loudly to the headman to release them, but he only laughed brutally, and ordered the Arabs around him to put them back with the other slaves. Then, finding to their dismay that the headman’s promise would not be fulfilled, the whole of the captured women made the forest ring with howls of execration, and heaped upon the raiders the most terrible curses their tongues could utter.

Meanwhile, the ivory was being pulled out of its hiding-place, and allotted in burdens to the slave-carriers. The flames, now spreading from hut to hut, leaped, roared and crackled, and a thick black smoke ascended, drifting slowly over the tops of the giant trees.

Turning to the proud chief of the Avejeli, the headman, through the negro interpreter, exclaimed,—

“I gave unto thee a chance to escape, but thou wouldst not accept it, even though the liberty of thy wives depended upon thy word.”

“The word of a follower of Tippu-Tib, like water fallen upon sand, is never to be found again,” Yakul answered.

Ngalyema bit his lip in anger, and waving his hand to those around him, exclaimed in Arabic,—

“Bind him. Let the son of offal die!”

In a trice cords were slipped around the ankles, wrists and neck of the unfortunate wretch in such a manner as to render him utterly powerless. Then the Arabs asked,—

“Speak, O leader, in what manner shall the pagan’s life be taken?”

“Take him yonder into the forest, and find a nest of red ants at the foot of a tree. There bind him, smear upon him some plantain juice, and let the insects devour him.”

“Thou hast spoken well, O leader!” the brigands cried, exultingly, and before he could realise the horrible fate that awaited him, the unfortunate chief, whose only offence was the strenuous and gallant defence of his home and his people, was hurried away into the jungle by the joyful rabble.

The shouting of the men executing the brutal Ngalyema’s orders could be heard away in the forest, while the remainder of the bandits proceeded with their work of relentless destruction. Not content with levelling the villages to ashes, they cut down the plantain grove, trampled down the corn, and destroyed the manioc, afterwards refreshing themselves with draughts from a trough of banana wine found in the village.

When the party returned from securing the chief in a position where he would be quickly eaten alive by the pests of the forest, the whole of the fighting-men reassembled, apparently beside themselves with delight at the complete mastery they had obtained over the savages. Piteous appeal availed the unfortunate slaves nothing. They were beaten, cuffed and tied together—two who attempted to escape, including the chief’s wife who had divulged the whereabouts of the ivory, being shot dead, and their bodies kicked ruthlessly aside.

At length the raiders, headed by one of the captured women, who was promised her liberty if she would act as their guide, moved forward along a narrow track leading into the depths of the forest, enriched by one hundred and thirty tusks, and nearly two hundred slaves.

As the men marched, onward, goading on the slaves with revolting brutality, I lingered behind for a moment to pick up a curiously-shaped axe that had apparently been forgotten. As I did so a loud, despairing shriek fell upon my ear.

I glanced around. The last of the rear guard of Tippu-Tib’s brigands had disappeared along the dark track. I remembered that the register of the actions of the righteous is in Illiyyûn, the book distinctly written: those who approach near unto Allah being witnesses thereto.

Again the piercing shriek was repeated, and I knew that the unfortunate wretch, bound to a tree, was being tortured to death, and literally devoured by a myriad insects. The injustice of his sentence caused me to hesitate, and a second later I resolved to release him.

I had but a few moments in which to accomplish it, for I well knew that, if discovered, my own life might be taken by the wild, bloodthirsty horde, who were indeed companions of the left hand, whom Allah had cut off, and over whom was the arched fire. Nevertheless, I dashed into the jungle, axe in hand, and guided by the condemned man’s cries, found him lashed tightly to a tree, and already covered from head to foot by the pests.

In an instant my axe severed his bonds and he sprang forward, and falling upon his knees, gratefully kissed my feet, uttering many words of thanks which I could not understand.

But I had not a moment to linger, therefore I gave him “peace,” and speeding back again to the smouldering ashes of the village, plunged into the forest depths down the dark, narrow path my merciless companions, the ivory-raiders, had taken.

Chapter Twenty Eight.

Pigmies of the Forest.

On every hand on their march eastward my companions spread destruction and death. The raiders’ track was marked by blood and ashes, for almost daily they shot down natives, burned villages, and added to the number of their slaves.

The horrors of that journey through the eternal gloom were endless, and the many cruelties and butcheries perpetrated in cold blood sufficient to send a thrill of horror through the most callous heart. Through all my varied experience with the hordes of the Mahdi and the Khalifa, I had never witnessed such scenes of fiendish brutality. Tiamo, whose savage nature had at first rejoiced in being one of this lawless band, was soon sickened, and often shuddered and expressed disgust.

Yet through all I had one goal in view, one object to attain—the discovery of the mystic spot where the Secret of the Asps might be revealed. The dreams that waved before my half-shut eyes were ever of Azala. Ever uppermost in my mind was the thought of her imprisoned in that great palace, surrounded by every gorgeous luxury, yet not allowed to participate, and patiently awaiting my return. Each day, when darkness set in, I thought of her opening her lattice, praying for Allah’s favour and breathing words of love to be borne afar to me upon the sunset wind. When should we again meet, I wondered. Perhaps never.

But the story of my strange journey, stranger than man had ever before undertaken, slips away from me as I think of her.

The notches on Tiamo’s gun, which he fortunately recovered before leaving Avisibba, showed that the day arranged for the attack upon Kano by the Dervishes had long passed, for already we had been absent five moons. If Ayesha had not delivered my warning, or if the Sultan had disregarded it, then the Empire of Sokoto was doomed. Of what dire consequences would result from the non-delivery of my hastily-scrawled message I feared to contemplate, for I knew that if the Ansar entered Kano, the woman I loved would most certainly be seized and carried away to grace the harem of the brutal Ruler of the Soudan.

But, trusting to the guidance of the One Guide, I strove to assure myself of her safety, and with a stout heart pushed forward, determined to overcome every obstacle that beset my path. Bitten and stung by numberless tribes of insects, including a beetle so small that it could not be detected with the naked eye, but which burrowed deeply into the flesh, producing most painful sores; continually on the alert against the many green, gold and black snakes, puff-adders, pythons and other deadly reptiles, we went forward, week by week, until the wretched slaves, half-starved and brutally ill-used, became mere shrunken skeletons of their former selves, disfigured by terrible ulcers caused by the insects, while the fighting-men themselves became lean, pale and weakened. Through a suffocating wilderness of arums, amoma and bush, over damp ground that exuded foetid, poisonous vapours, we struggled onward, until one day we were startled to hear on before us the sound of muskets, loud, wild shouting, and the violent beating of tam-tams.

Ngalyema and his men halted quickly to listen. The sounds approached.

“Thank Allah!” the headman cried in delight when, in a few moments, a strange, half-bred Arab pushed his way toward us, giving us loud and profuse greetings. “Our guides have not deceived us. We are at last at Kalunga!”

Pushing forward, our scouts had apprised the raiders’ settlement of our approach, and the wildest excitement at once prevailed. My companions, with one accord dashed onward, and on accompanying them I found myself in a great, open clearing around a strong stockade, within which stood a number of well-constructed huts. Here, once again, after a perpetual gloom lasting nine weeks, we saw the blessed light of day, the cloudless sky and the brilliant sun, and breathed the pure air laden with the sweet perfume of many flowers.

We were, I discovered, actually in the country of the Wambutti pigmies, some of whom, sleek little people, about the height of a sword, and of the colour of yellow ivory, I saw among the Arabs. Kalunga was an out-lying station established by Tippu-Tib’s brigands in order to extend their raids deeper into the Forest of Perpetual Night; and it was Ngalyema himself, who, a few hours later, suggested that from the curious race of forest-dwellers in the vicinity I might possibly obtain knowledge of the whereabouts of the Rock of the Great Sin. He even suggested that one or two of his own fighting-men should accompany me on my lonely journey south in search of the pigmies, but knowing that he desired to obtain for himself knowledge of the spot, I firmly declined his offer, declaring that I felt less open to attack accompanied only by Tiamo than if his slave-raiders bore me company.

During two days I remained at the Arab settlement, watching the manner in which the slaves were secured previous to deportation to the headquarters at Ipoto, on the Ituri river, forty days distant; then, with my trusty companion, El-Sadic, I left the place at dead of night, in order to escape Ngalyema’s vigilance, and again we plunged into the forest depths along the narrow, winding, half-effaced track which had been pointed out to me as running south to the distant villages of the mysterious race of dwarfs. In that impenetrable darkness our progress was slow, but when day dawned above, just sufficient light struggled through the dense foliage to enable us to pursue our way. It was a lonely journey, full of terrors and anxieties, for were we not approaching the tribe, of all the people in the Forest of Night the most hostile?

Ever on the alert lest we should receive the poisoned shaft of some hidden dwarf of the woods, or tread upon a poisoned skewer, we struggled still onward. Day succeeded day until we kept no count of them. Tiamo, who had borne the fatigues of our long journey without a murmur, and bravely faced the perils to which we had continuously been exposed, now appeared to have grown despairing and gloomy. The eternal twilight was certainly not conducive to high spirits, but my dwarf companion seemed overwhelmed by some strange precursor of evil.

As deeper into the forest we penetrated, food became scarcer, and hunger consumed us daily. We were subsisting on wood-beans, occasional plantains, bananas and some wild fruit, but as not a gleam of sunshine gladdened our eyes, or breath of pure air refreshed us, it was scarcely surprising that my slave should give vent to his innermost thoughts. One morning, in the dim, grey hour when things were just creeping out of darkness and everything was colourless and unreal, he appeared unusually gloomy, and when I inquired the cause, answered,—

“In the night, O master, I had a dream. The future was revealed unto me,” and he shuddered perceptibly. “Verily, I believe that our quest is futile; that death is nigh unto us. I have a presentiment that the eyes of the beauteous Lalla Azala will never again be gladdened by sight of thee, and that mine own bones also will be stripped by the scavengers of the forest.”

“Let not such gloomy apprehensions find a dwelling-place within thee, Tiamo,” I answered, forcing a smile. “Relinquish not thy brave bearing. For aught we know we are, even at this moment, on the point of a discovery.”

“The men of Tippu-Tib assured me that the dwarfs of the Wambutti resent the intrusion of strangers, and murder those who dare approach them except in force,” he exclaimed, gloomily.

“Did we not set forth to seek the Rock of the Great Sin, and didst thou not express thy readiness to accompany me whithersoever I went?” I asked.

“I did, O master,” he answered. “But I knew not that we should seek to penetrate the country of the man-eaters.”

“Allah,—may he be glorified!—counteth them as flies, but extendeth unto us his guidance and protection,” I said. “Put thy faith in the One Guide, and he will comfort and preserve thee.”

Mumbling some mystic words in his own tongue, the meaning of which I knew not, he fumbled with his amulets and raised his open hand above his head, as if imploring the protection of his pagan gods. Then, rising to his feet, and with a look of renewed energy, he exclaimed,—

“Of a verity thy lips utter the truth. We may be even now near unto the shore of the Lake of the Accursed, and upon the verge of discovering that which is weirdly mysterious and unknown. I will abandon fear and continue to seek with diligence for that of which we are in quest.”

“We have both promised,” I said, solemnly. “We have travelled afar, and are but fulfilling our duty towards the Lalla Azala, thy mistress.”

“True, O master,” he said. “Pearls of wisdom fall ever from thy lips as rain upon a thirsty land. I am ready. Let us move forward.”

At the bidding of my apelike companion I rose, and again we started along the disused track, rendered almost impassable by trailing creepers, vines, and thick undergrowth. During that day we struggled forward, passing through a village that had apparently been burned by the Arabs some months before, and, continuing our way still southward, we entered a path that had been so widened by elephants that we could walk side by side and converse, when suddenly, without warning, the earth beneath us gave way and we were both precipitated headlong into a deep pit that had been artfully concealed by leaves, twigs, and a thin layer of earth. My knee was bruised severely, but in a moment I struggled to my feet to gaze around. I raved to and fro, screaming and crying upon Allah and Eblis, for I was dismayed to discover that the pit had been dug so deeply, with sides slanting inwards, that to escape was utterly impossible.

We had been caught by one of the elephant-traps, in the arrangement of which the pigmies display so much ingenuity and cunning. We had fallen into an abyss of doom.

“Alas, O master! this misfortune hath shackled our footsteps!” the dwarf exclaimed, rubbing his abnormally large woolly head where he had struck it. “I dreamed that we were dying.”

No word passed my lips. In vain I searched frantically for some mode of escape, but could discover none. My companion’s words, were, alas! too true! We had nothing left, but misery! The heart of night, and the forest’s heart were tranquil in primordial silence. The mishap was worse than a misfortune, for it meant either capture by the malicious little denizens of that weird realm of perpetual darkness, or a lingering death from starvation.

To endeavour to reach the surface, I mounted the dwarf upon my shoulders, but my heart sank when I saw that the point to which he could stretch his hands was still fully a spear’s length below the ground. Had he been a full-grown man and not of dwarfed stature, it was possible that we might have escaped by this means, but all schemes that we devised proved impracticable, and we were compelled to walk backwards and forwards within the dark, deep hole, awaiting the arrival of our exulting captors, who would, no doubt, believe that in me, an Arab, they had caught one of their arch enemies—the raiders of Tippu-Tib.

The gloom grew deeper, the birds far above ceased their chattering, a fact which told us that it was the hour of the maghrib, when, suddenly in the silence, we heard leaves rustling, and twigs broken as by footsteps.

Next second, a black head appeared, cautiously leaning over the pit looking down upon us, and a voice uttered a loud cry in a language neither of us knew.

My heart leaped, and beat quickly.

The savage’s face seemed to smile in mockery of my dismay; his scream of delight was the death knell of all my hopes, and, as the sinister head was withdrawn, I stood breathless, unarmed, wondering in what form death would come to us, and praying to Allah that we might die swiftly and painlessly, for I dreaded the horrible, revolting tortures I had so frequently witnessed.

I remembered it was the hour when Azala, in the far-off city of the Sultan, was wafting to me, from her high lattice, a fervent message of comfort, of peace and of love. There came before me the pale image of those hours of enchantment. Upon the successful accomplishment of my strange mission depended all our future, all our happiness. I struggled to look the circumstances fairly in the face, to see the folly of my wild frenzy, and to reason with myself.

But a profound sense of loneliness, helplessness and despair had settled upon me. I became seized by an excessive dread.

Chapter Twenty Nine.

Facing Malec.

Above, in the dimness, there moved again a grotesque, spectral shadow. The savage was peering into the pit, but it occurred to me that he was unable to distinguish us in that rayless obscurity.

He shouted in a hoarse voice, and I saw that in his hand he carried a long spear. Neither of us replied or moved a muscle. We watched in silence, waiting with drawn breath. Everything, except the hole above where the unkempt head showed as a round, black projection, was profoundly dark, and when I looked up again it had disappeared. A deep stillness fell, broken only by the distant trumpeting of an elephant; then suddenly we heard a noise like the breaking of sticks and the tearing of foliage. With our eyes riveted upon the hole through which we had fallen, we were, a few minutes later, startled by the appearance of a curious glare, as if a fire had been lighted, and suddenly the black denizen of the forest appeared at the hole, holding above his head a roughly-made torch. Its fickle light shone down upon us, but at the same time illumined the black, savage face of the man who held it.

Involuntarily I gave vent to a loud ejaculation of surprise. In an instant I recognised the sable features. The man who had discovered us was none other than Yakul, the fearless chief of the Avejeli, whom I had rescued from death!

“Peace, O friend!” I cried excitedly in Arabic, remembering that although he had been questioned by Ngalyema in the Monvu tongue, yet he nevertheless understood the language of the Desert.

“See!” shouted the dwarf, in despair, unaware that I had released him from his tortures. “See! It is the chieftain that the raiders condemned to die. He will assuredly seek revenge upon us!”

I saw him, and even through the mask of my madness I knew him again, and terror took hold of me. But our anxious apprehensions were in an instant dispelled, for Yakul, recognising me, waved his torch, shouting in very indifferent Arabic,—

“Nay, do not be surprised, O my rescuer! Truly am I thy friend. Be patient, and ere long thou shalt both escape.”

And as the weird, black figure uttered these reassuring words in a shrill tone, he placed the torch upon the ground and left. Reappearing in a few moments, he shouted, and commenced to lower a long wreath of climbing plant that he had cut from a tree, and when he had secured the end to a neighbouring trunk he bade us ascend with care.

Thankful for this sudden and unexpected deliverance, Tiamo clambered up first, and I followed, finding myself a few minutes later standing beside my pagan ally, expressing fervent thanks for our timely rescue.

“If thou hadst not severed my bonds, the scavengers of the forest would long ago have cleaned my bones,” the tall, keen-eyed savage answered, leaning upon his spear. The fine goatskin he had worn as a mark of chieftainship had been replaced by a strip of common bark-cloth, and he no longer wore his curiously-shaped helmet, with its swaling plume. His village had been burned by the fiendish brigands of Tippu-Tib, nearly all his people had been murdered or enslaved, his treasure-stolen, and he was now a homeless wanderer. Briefly I explained to him the accident that had befallen us, at the same time expressing a fear that the pigmies might discover us.

“Fear not that,” he answered. “I have ever been an ally of the dwarfed people of the Wambutti, and in my company not a hair of thine head shall be injured.”

“Art thou on thy way to them?” I inquired.

“Yea, and nay,” he answered. “Since thou didst release me, I have followed closely thy footprints.”

“Followed me!” I echoed, remembering how many days he must have journeyed.

“Since the raid of the destroyers I have been ever behind thee, and have ofttimes watched thee and thy companion unnoticed.”

“For what reason hast thou sought to thus keep observation upon me?” I asked, puzzled. The small fire he had lit still threw a faint glow, sufficient to reveal his dark and not unhandsome face, and Tiamo stood by, speechless and wondering.

“I desired to ascertain that thou wert journeying along the right path,” the chief replied, mysteriously.

“The right path? What meanest thou?”

“An Arab dareth not to journey with one slave through the Kivira, unless he hath some definite object in view,” he said, with a low, rather harsh laugh. “At risk of thy life thou didst release me from a certain and horrible death, and in return I have secretly watched thy progress towards thy goal.”

“My goal!” I cried. “What knowest thou of my goal?”

“Already have I told thee that, since my rescue, I have been as thy shadow. I followed thee to Kalunga, and there overheard thy conversation with the brutal headman Ngalyema, in which thou didst tell him of thy search, and he, with consummate craftiness, offered to send his armed men with thee. As I lay hidden, I heard thee tell him of thine anxiety to reach the Rock of the Great Sin, because upon the success of thy mission depended the happiness of the woman thou lovest. My life was in thine hand; therefore I determined at once to assist thee.”

“To assist me!” I exclaimed, breathlessly. “Knowest thou where the Rock of the Great Sin is situated?”

“I do, O my friend,” he answered solemnly, still leaning upon his spear, with the other hand resting upon his hip.

“And canst thou direct us thither?”

“In order to accompany thee unto the rock, I dogged thy footsteps, determined not to make my presence known if thou couldst obtain from others the information thou seekest. Until sunrise to-day thou didst travel in the direction of the abode of evil, but after last night’s sleep thou didst turn off from the right track, and hence I found it imperative to make my presence known and give thee warning, so that thou mayest turn back and again strike the right path. In consequence, I sped forward, expecting to find thee settling down for the night, but instead I discovered thou hadst fallen headlong into a trap set for elephants. Thou hast been, however, extricated—”

“Thanks to thee,” I interrupted, laughing. But he continued,—

“Extricated by one whose life thou hast saved for no other reason than because the condemnation was unjust,” and he paused. Then, looking round, he added, “Come, let us be seated at yon fire; let us eat and sleep that we may be refreshed for to-morrow’s journey.”

All three of us walked to the fire, and seating ourselves, the pagan chief produced some ripe bananas and some wild fruit, which we ate ravenously while he chattered on unceasingly.