They blazed up, and by the light he rearranged the other stacks of fuel. He realized that he could easily be struck down by a leopard if he ventured away from a fire, and he hit on the idea of building his fires in the shape of a cross, one at the top, one at the bottom, one on each side, and s.p.a.ce inside for him to lie down.
Inside he made a bed of reeds, from which he could draw supplies as they were needed. He fired the top pile, and then, after a long wait, the bottom one, and when that had burnt down to embers, and the night was far advanced, he stretched himself out, protected by four smouldering heaps of ash, that glowed like four red eyes in the dark.
He looked up at the stars for a long time as he rested in his lonely camping-ground, and then dropped into an uneasy sleep. Something awoke him very soon, and his eyes opened on the dark vault above. A booming noise reached him. It was the grunt of a lion this time, but far off--a deep monotonous sound made by the lion on the trot, with his mouth near the ground. It was very far off, and with a sigh of relief he closed his eyes. And then he heard the sound again, and knew it was not the lion that had awakened him. He rose on his elbow and peered about, but the darkness came right up to the ash-heaps, looking white now instead of red. He placed a handful of dry reeds on the nearest heap and blew. There was a glow, a flicker, and then a flare. In the reflection he saw dimly a patch of white, then another patch next it. This roused him, so that he set all the four fires going again, and, with his rifle ready, he stood up to see what manner of visitors these were with the white marks.
He had heard slight noises as he fed the fires, and now the reeds rustled, but he could see no living form. Sitting down, he laid a few handfuls of reeds ready to each fire, then waited with shaken nerves, for there was something mysterious about this visitation.
The fires flared up and sunk back to red embers, and yet there was no sign. The embers took on a covering of grey ash, then the rustling began anew, and the white objects reappeared. He turned his head, and saw that they stretched right round! What the d.i.c.kens were they? He strained his sight, and, at first indistinctly and then clearly, he saw the gleam of eyes above each white patch. Softly he laid a few reeds on the embers, and as they crackled he saw one of the white objects move. As the flame mounted up, he made out an animal with round ears and brindled hide, staring nervously at the fire. It was a wild-dog! Only a dog, and with a "shoo!" he thought to scare the creature off. The yellow eyes went from the fire to his face, a red tongue slithered out over the black nose, and the dog sat down again. All round were the white b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the pack, as they sat in silence and stared. He searched about for a missile, found an empty cartridge, and threw it. A dog leapt up and sniffed.
The circle seemed to close in.
He shouted at them, and they gave back a yelp, but never stirred.
"All right," he said grimly, then aimed at a white breast and fired.
The pack scattered into the reeds; there was a beating and kicking noise, followed by a wild rush, a savage snarling and snapping of teeth. Dog was eating dog; and, with a feeling of disgust and contempt, he prepared himself to rest. A little later the white circle was complete again, and the silent inspection was continued.
This got on his nerves, and, springing over the fire with his rifle clubbed, he gave two sweeping blows. The dogs slipped away from his front, only to reappear with threatening growls on his flank. He leapt back to safety and fired; but the light was bad, and he missed. Piling on a few more reeds, he emptied his magazine rapidly, facing all parts of the circle, and making some hits, as he judged from the howling that went up.
"There!" he shouted savagely, "will that satisfy you?" The pack fell upon the wounded, and was back again into position, coming closer and closer as the fires died down.
Then he remembered the stories he had heard of the persistence of the wild-dogs--how they would drive off even a lion from his prey-- and he fell to counting his cartridges. There were only five left.
He counted the dogs. There were more than fifteen, as far as he could reckon; and if he reduced them to ten, he could not hope to withstand the final rush of ten big-jawed and active animals. Even if he could keep them off in that open s.p.a.ce, he could not stay there another day; and if they tackled him in the reeds, he would have no chance. He began to rack his brain for a scheme; but while he thought, the circle closed in until quite plainly he could distinguish the staring eyes all centered upon him. He piled on more fuel, and as the flames sprang up they fell back. As the flames died down, they advanced as by a given signal. He kept on adding to the fires until his fingers, groping for fresh reeds, found none, and the sweat broke out on his forehead. In one hour at least there would not be light enough from the smouldering heaps for him to see a mark, and then--something had to be done!
No doubt the watchful eyes saw the sign of fear in his face. At once the circle closed in, and this time he could see that several of the dogs were not sitting, but standing, as if ready for the final spring. He fingered a cartridge, then suddenly flung it into the topmost heap of glowing ash. The eyes of the pack followed the missile, and for a second each dog looked at the heap. As they looked there was a report, and a ma.s.s of live embers was scattered high and wide, over them, over the opening, into the fringe of reeds. With wild yelps of fear and pain the pack broke, and Compton groveled on the ground with his hands before his face, for he had flattened himself just in time to escape being blinded by the burning dust, some of which, however, did get into his eyes. A little fly in the eye, as many a cyclist has found to his cost, is enough to engage the entire attention for five minutes, but a handful of ash gives more anguish to the square inch; and when Compton succeeded in opening his inflamed vision upon the scene, a transformation had happened in the writhing interval. The air was full of a sharp crackling and little explosions, and the first thing he saw was a slender tongue of flame running up a tall reed, and quivering for a moment high above. Other flames ran in and out among the withered white sheaths that had dropped off, and mounted up the smooth stems, and then there came a wandering puff of wind, which rustled over the bending tops and fanned the little serpent-tongues of fire into one devouring flame.
He had no wish to be roasted. Once more using his knife to cut down a sheaf of stems, he made a flail of these, and beat out the fire to windward. And as he worked on the one side of the little clearing the fire grew on the other side, and then raced along, leaving behind in the blackened area many separate fires, where ma.s.ses of reeds had been beaten down. And the smoke went up in a growing cloud that blotted out the sky--went up and fortunately rolled away towards the great river under the sufficient strength of the wind; otherwise he would have been suffocated. The cracking of the reeds was like rifle-fire breaking through the roar of the flames, and now and again the crashing of animals on the stampede could be heard. He looked out upon his work with awe, stood and gazed spellbound, wondering if such a sea of flame could ever be stopped, fearing that it would spread out into the bush beyond, and run up into the forest and devour every tree until stopped by the mighty river itself. As he looked, he heard some creature before him writhing in the blackened track of the fire, and presently he made it out--a great crocodile convulsively lashing its powerful tail. Going near with cautious steps, he put it out of its misery with a ball under the forearm; then he went on over the scorched ground very slowly, for the burnt reeds were like sharp stakes to the feet. And as he followed, the fire died out before him, and began to eat its way right and left, working back through the reeds against the wind.
Then he heard the report of a gun, and as he stepped from the burnt area on to the short gra.s.s that had offered no fuel for the fire, something came springing around him, and before he could pull trigger it was off with a yelp into the darkness under the canopy of smoke. "Coo-ee--coo-ee! Compton--ahoy! Compton!"
Compton croaked and hobbled on.
Then the creature yelped about him again, and his friends were shaking him by the hands.
"You know," he said with a croak, "I didn"t mean to set fire to the place."
"Thank G.o.d, my boy, you did," said Mr. Hume, fervently. Then he lifted the boy up in his arms.
"I can walk," said Compton; and, to prove it, his head rolled helplessly on his shoulder.
Mr. Hume strode off to the river, and washed the layer of soot off the blackened face, laved the red eyes, and moistened the cracked lips and parched tongue. Then he gave the boy a soothing drink, rubbed oil on his feet and face; rolled him in a blanket, and carried him up to the camping-ground under the precipice.
CHAPTER XI
A TRAP
In the morning they packed up and made their way upstream to the place where they had left the sections of the Okapi, for such a banner of smoke as was still mounting from the smouldering reeds was bound to attract inspection from the natives. They found the hiding-place undisturbed, and, after putting the boat together, went on down to the Congo. Slipping out upon the great river in the dusk, they went on slowly for several miles, tied up till the early dawn, and spread the little sail to the morning breeze. The boat had a singular appearance, for strips of biltong were suspended from the awning, not having been quite cured, and the buffalo-hide was hanging over the side, in soak, to soften it for the final treatment that would take the hair off and leave it soft and pliant.
Compton was allowed a day off, and slept the sleep of the tired; but the others were all occupied--one keeping watch, another steering, and the third cleaning up. The jackal, like Compton, was unemployed, and curled itself up by his feet, opening one eye occasionally to see that all was shipshape. Through the morning they went, and into the afternoon; then Venning, who was outlook-man, gave tongue--
"A sail--a sail!"
"Where--away?" yelled Compton, waking up.
"On the port bow, hull down, paddle showing."
"Then it"s a canoe, you duffer, not a sail."
"A canoe it is, sir; single-handed, and bearing right down upon us.
Shall we speak her?"
"Luff--luff! and we"ll pour a broadside into her lee scuppers," said Compton, ferociously.
"She"s signalling," returned Venning; "distress signal, I think."
Mr. Hume went forward and took a look through his gla.s.ses. A solitary canoe was certainly in view, with a single boatman aboard, who was frantically waving his paddle. Then he swept the sh.o.r.e for signs of life.
"There are some people squatting just by that tall palm," he muttered. "Have a look, Venning."
Venning made out several persons at the spot. "They can"t do us any harm," he said, and brought the gla.s.ses to bear on the canoe. "The chap appears to be in a stew about something, from the way he glances over his shoulder."
They sailed down towards the lonely paddler, who was soon alongside --thanks to an extraordinary agility. He appeared to be greatly pleased at the meeting, grinned continuously, and at once prepared to get aboard the Okapi.
Mr. Hume, however, kept him off with a "not so fast" and a hand against his breast.
"Talk to him, Muata. Ask him what he wants, who he is, and all the rest."
Muata stepped into the canoe, caught up the paddle, and sat down to palaver. A line was made fast to the canoe, and it drifted astern of the Okapi, which kept on her course.
The canoe-man"s grin faded away, and his eyes rolled as Muata ordered him to sit. He seemed to be a river tribesman, with only a loin-cloth on.
"Don"t eat him, chief," sang out Compton; for Muata had a very ugly look on his face as he eyed the stranger.
The man himself seemed to think there was cause for this plea on his behalf, for, to the amazement of all, he responded in broken English--
"Oh yeh-es, he eatee me. Poah black man come to white master for heiup, not to wild black man."
"By Jove, he talks English! Let the poor beggar come aboard, sir."
"He"s all right where he is," said Mr. Hume.
The man did not think so, and began hauling on the rope, when Mr.
Hume drew his knife and made as if he would cut the canoe loose. He ceased from pulling, and, after a despairing look, crouched down.
"We will talk," said Muata, courteously, poising the paddle in his hand. "How is your venerable mother?"
"She has a wonderful dish of fish and manioc for her son"s guests.
You will do her the favour to eat of that dish," said the stranger, humbly.
"And is your venerable mother"s kraal up the river?"
"A sun"s march distant, by a garden of bananas. Also there is a fat goat."