CHAPTER XI
THE TRAIL OF THE LEOPARD
Maxwell expressed his approval of the recruits Dane brought in, for DomPedro had chosen well. They were sturdy, woolly-haired Kroomen fromLiberia who had gained some experience of forest warfare in pettyskirmishes with the troops of the black republic. It is noticeable thatthe untamed African cherishes little love for his partly civilizedbrother. When he had harangued them, the two white men sat talkingtogether.
"I would give a good deal to know what is in Dom Pedro's mind just now,"said Maxwell. "It is quite possible that the offer he made you wasgenuine. There is, if one may say it without appealing to your vanity, acertain air of solidity and force about you which might appeal to a manof his type who could supply all the finesse necessary--and whopossesses a troublesome enemy. The map would in any case be of littleuse to Dom Pedro, who would never venture into the Leopards' country;and I hardly fancy he would give it to Rideau. In the meantime our ownprogram is clear. We start again at sunrise to-morrow."
"Are you not taking too much for granted when you assume that Dom Pedrohas the map?" asked Dane; and Maxwell smiled enigmatically but did notanswer.
A few days later they halted at sunset beside a stream which, contraryto the custom of most African rivers, flowed clear as crystal overyellow sand. Wooded hills whose hollows were filled with drifting steamsloped steeply upward from the opposite bank, and the black shadow of afew palms lengthened across the grass behind the waiting men. There wasnothing remarkable about the river or its surroundings; but heathen,missionary convert, and dusky Moslem alike shrank back murmuring fromits bank.
"This is our Rubicon, and beyond it lies the Leopards' country," saidMaxwell. "It is not a very imposing stream, but I believe no white manhas ever crossed it without suffering from his rashness, since the daysof the early Portuguese. Something has evidently startled the boys. As Ipartly expected, here it is."
Maxwell pointed to a slender wand set up beside the bank. A tuft ofreddened rags was tied to it, and beneath them hung a piece of sun-driedclay rudely modeled into the resemblance of a leopard.
"I would rather have seen fifty men with flint-locks than this trumperything," he declared. "You don't quite grasp its significance, Hilton?Well, in this land anything may be made the emblem of the Ju-ju, andthat is the insignia of a powerful one I have alluded to several timesalready."
"I could never understand what a Ju-ju is."
"Very few white men do, but its ministers are a force to reckon with;and this piece of clay signifies that many unpleasant things, varyingfrom slow poisoning to death by violence, may happen to the man whodisregards it. You can see that the boys are afraid of it."
"We can't stay here forever because some benighted heathen has tied itto a stick," expostulated Dane. "Here's a challenge to the powers ofdarkness. Watch and try to understand, you boy! If them thing be no fitto hurt me, it can't hurt you. That's logic, or, as you say, the Lord hegive me sense too much, isn't it?"
The eyes of the spectators grew wide with horror as, snapping the wandacross his knee, he next crushed the leopard beneath his heel; and therewas a heavy silence while they waited to see what would follow this bolddefiance of the forest deity. So real was their terror, and the hush soimpressive, that Dane felt his own heart beating faster than itgenerally did, and when he laughed the laugh rang hollow. But nothingunusual happened; and with murmurs of relief the men followed him as hesplashed through the ford.
"It was necessary," said Maxwell with noticeable gravity. "Nevertheless,we will double our sentries henceforward, and recharge our filters.There is no doubt that the powers of darkness will take up yourchallenge."
They pitched camp among the cottonwoods at the mouth of a ravine, and,when they had eaten, sat for a time within their little tent poring overa map issued privately for the use of French officials. Innumerableinsects dimmed the light of the lamp above them, and they could scarcelysee the lettering.
"We are here," said Maxwell, laying his finger on the paper, "on thethreshold of what the niggers call the Leopards' country, which ismarked as partly explored territory, with this patch to represent thedominions of King, or headman, Shaillu. A few armed expeditions havetraversed it farther east, and found it thinly peopled by petty tribeshostile to Europeans, while nobody knows much about Shaillu except thathe abruptly broke off the negotiations he once began with theauthorities. That showed the hand of his priests, and brings us back tothe Leopard League."
Dane laid down his damp cigar, and listened with keen interest asMaxwell explained.
"As you have heard, secret leagues of all kinds are common in thiscountry, and that of the Leopard is probably one of the most powerful.Its priestly leaders are apparently the power behind the throne inShaillu's dominions, and, so the natives say, those they favor with ashare of their supernatural qualities can render themselves invisible ortake the shape of beasts. Like their namesake, they always strike atnight. Dismissing all idea of witchcraft, you can take very ingenioushuman cunning, a thorough knowledge of poisoning, and no mean strategicskill, for granted. Once the white man settles in their country thepower of the bush magician must decline; and the deduction you can drawfrom that should justify a close watch to-night. It is your turn untiltwelve o'clock, Hilton."
Dane found it a somewhat depressing watch when the cooking fires haddied out and the sounds which gather depth with the darkness emphasizedthe hush of the forest. There was nothing visible but the faint glimmerof the lighted tent, which suggested a huge Chinese lantern set downamong the dripping undergrowth. Behind it loomed dim ghosts of trees.Moisture fell drumming upon the tight-strained canvas; and at intervalssome beast in the forest sent up an unearthly scream. The darkness wasfilled with the scent of wood smoke and lilies, and thickened by wispsof drifting steam.
The time dragged by slowly; but at last Dane was about to make a finalround, when a stealthy rustling held him rigidly still, save that hisleft hand slid farther along the rifle barrel. The sound ceased andbegan again, and it became certain that something or somebody wascrawling toward the tent. It could hardly be one of the carriers, forMaxwell had intimated that any man found wandering in the darkness wouldpromptly be fired upon. Dane could feel his heart throbbing, but hisfingers were steady on the cool barrel as he waited, realizinginstinctively that death or danger in some strange shape was drawingnear. Nevertheless he was silent, fearing to rouse the camp on a falsealarm, and also because he wished to make certain of their unseen enemy.
For a space of a few seconds there was no sound at all, and he grew themore uneasy, knowing that the naked bushman learns by sheer necessity towriggle almost silently through the undergrowth. Then he found it hardto repress a cry of astonishment as, for a moment, a monstrous shape wassilhouetted against the faintly illuminated canvas. It was bulkier thana man, and though it stood upright, its head was that of a beast.Maxwell was clearly in danger, there was no time to lose, and, pitchingup the rifle, Dane pressed the trigger. A streak of red fire rent thedarkness, and a spark blew into his eyes. He felt the jerk of thebarrel, and then, though he scarcely heard the explosion, he caught athud there is no mistaking--the sound made by the impact of a solidbullet.
As he snapped down the lever and slid home another cartridge, somethingdim and shadowy rushed past, and the rifle blazed again. Then there wasa snapping of undergrowth, a yell from a sentry, the crash of a Snider,and the camp awoke to life. Maxwell, holding up a lamp, spranghalf-dressed from the tent, black men rose out of the shadows clamoringexcitedly, and Dane's headman, Monday, stood close beside him, peeringinto the darkness with his long Snider rifle held out before him. Mondaywas not a timid man, but he looked distinctly uneasy when the light ofMaxwell's lantern fell upon his face.
Dane briefly related what had happened; and Maxwell lowered his lantern.
"The Leopards have made their first move, and lost a man, I think," hesaid. "Most black men are able to carry off considerable lead, but thisred trail on the undergrowth is significant. It
also appears quiteprobable that you have saved my life."
Just then, there was a shrill scream in the forest, a scream of humanagony, horrible and intense, and afterward a silence that could be felt.
"Them ghost leopard he done go chop some boy!" exclaimed Monday,trembling a little. "We savvy fight black man, sah, but not themdebbil."
"The sound rose from behind the tuft of palms," Maxwell said quietly."Take six of your best men, Monday, and see who is missing. No--staywhere you are, Hilton! It is advisable to break them in to this kind ofthing."
Monday went reluctantly, and returned to say that one of the sentriesand his gun had vanished completely. Then a half-naked man with amatchet burst through the wondering group which had gathered about thepair, demanding assistance to search for his brother.
Maxwell glanced at him, hesitated, and, while Dane protested, shook hishead.
"We could never track them, even in broad daylight; and some of therescue party would not come back," he explained. "By this time the poordevil is certainly dead, and I feel convinced that we shall find himto-morrow without searching. Amadu, tell your boys to fire on any mantrying to leave the camp."
Maxwell kept watch himself henceforward, and Dane retired to the tent,resigned though far from contented. He had learned that, if his wayswere a trifle autocratic, his comrade was a leader who could be trusted,and though he longed with a vindictive yearning to search the forest,rifle in hand, he did not consider it judicious to question Maxwell'sauthority.
It was a relief when morning came, and somewhat silently they began themarch again. The path wound up a ravine, through climbing forest thatrotted as it grew, where grotesque and ghostly orchids sprouted fromeach crumbling bough, and there was scarcely room for two men abreast inthe rutted trail. It had been worn deep by the passage of naked feet;for gum, skins, and a little ivory came down on the heads of slavetrains out of Shaillu's country.
Maxwell, with a few picked men, led the way, after giving Dane ordersnot to follow him too closely with the main body; but the latter foundit hard to restrain his carriers, who desired to leave the site of thecamp as far behind them as possible.
Dane had lagged a little behind the long line of colored headgear, casespoised aloft on woolly crowns, white draperies, and patches of sableskin, which wound on before him through the green of the tangled jungle,when Maxwell's voice came back sharply.
"Lead your boys wide into the bush, Hilton! Break through for severalhundred yards, and send them on before you. Turn back and rejoin mealone when you strike the trail again!"
It was done, though Dane fell over an ant-heap and into a network ofhorrible thorny trailers which tore the flesh about his ankles. Hurryingback along the trail, he found Maxwell standing behind a screen ofresplendent creepers, lighting a cigar with a hand that was not quitesteady. His eyes were positively savage, and a patch in the center ofeach cheek was gray. Startled as Dane was, it was nevertheless soothingto find that his comrade shared some, at least, of the weaknesses oftheir common humanity. He could not mistake the intensity of Maxwell'sanger.
"Prepare yourself for a surprise, Hilton, and then see what awaits youbeyond that bush," he said. "I had partly expected it, but when I cameupon it the sight almost sickened me."
Dane's nerves were tolerably good, but when he passed the creepers heexperienced a shock of nausea and halted abruptly. Two black men werescooping out a trench, while another crouched near by, crooningsomething while he ran his thumb caressingly up and down a matchetblade. He looked up at the white man's coming, and his face was a study.Horror was stamped upon it; but a slow, relentless ferocity was writtenthere too. This Dane saw with his first glance, but after the second heturned his eyes away. Maxwell was right. They had found the missingsentry. The object--for there was little resemblance of humanity left inwhat lay a foul blotch on the forest before him--was stretched acrossthe trail; and the neck was twisted so that the face, left whole,looked down the pathway the way the expedition should have come,distorted and ghastly, with its changeless grin of pain. Words appearedsuperfluous, but Dane's sensations demanded relief in speech.
"Horrible! horrible! But what is the matter with Bad Dollar? He lookspositively murderous!"
"It is not surprising," answered Maxwell. "The African is not alwaysadmirable in his domestic relations, but what lies yonder was hisbrother."
Dane, stooping, patted the negro's head.
"It will be a bad day for some of the Leopards when he settles thatscore. Listen to me, Maxwell. Heaven knows whether through greed I amresponsible for part of this; but I most solemnly promise that if ever Ican find the master fiend who inspired the murderers, I'll avenge thatpoor devil, as well as Lyle, the trader, whatever it costs me. We'repartners in this affair, Bad Dollar!"
It is probable that the naked heathen attached little meaning to thewords, but he understood the hoarseness of the white man's voice, andthe steely glint in his eyes. He laid his black hands on the speaker'sfoot.
"It is a bargain," Dane said gravely. "I mean to keep it, Maxwell."
"You are a little impetuous," was the quiet answer. "Some day therewill, I hope, be a reckoning; but a wise man says little and awaits hisopportunity. Our turn has not come yet. When it does I do not think youwill find me dilatory. Meanwhile, I'm puzzled. There are pointsconnected with this affair which are far from clear; but those fellowshave finished and we will go on again."
Beyond instructing Dane and his immediate followers to keep theoccurrence secret, Maxwell said nothing further until noon had passed,when Dane asked a question.
"Why did the Leopards make their first move now, when we could, if wewished it, retreat, instead of waiting until we had penetrated fartherinto their country?"
"It is a pertinent question," said Maxwell. "For one thing, this is,after all, King Shaillu's country, and they possibly fear that if weonce have speech with him, the headman, who, so the French officers toldme, has a hankering after civilization, might extend us protection. Butthat does not quite account for everything. You remember Miss Castro'smention of the following shadow? Events have proved her predictionssignally correct hitherto, and I am inclined to fancy that the worstdanger still lies behind us and not before."
Maxwell vouchsafed no further information, and though Dane knew it waswell the expedition had for its leader a man unmoved alike by excess ofanger or misguided pity, he could not help retorting: "You foresee agood deal, Carsluith. It is unfortunate you could not more often preventit. Why could you not have told me more of what you anticipated?"
Maxwell laughed good-humoredly.
"Isn't it apparent that what I prevent from happening does not occur? Asto the last question, perhaps the African's answer, 'You never askedme,' is the best. One dreads so much that it appeared useless to harrowyour feelings until I was certain."
The march through headman Shaillu's dominions left upon Dane only aseries of blurred impressions. He was too sick to notice definitedetails most of the time; but he decided that under no circumstancescould it be considered a cheerful country. For days together theexpedition floundered through dripping forest so laced and bound withcreepers that at noon the daylight could hardly filter down. Theatmosphere resembled that of a Turkish bath; moisture splashed upon thebroad leaves everywhere, and the heat and the gloom together produced adistressing lassitude. This the white men made strenuous efforts toresist, knowing that they might blunder into an ambush at any moment.
It was evident that their enemies had not lost touch with them; for inspite of their keenest vigilance, a carrier was twice spirited out ofcamp at night. Once Dane, making the rounds with a lantern, came upon asentry huddled beneath a cottonwood. He had paid a heavy penalty for hisdrowsiness. Even Maxwell showed signs of temper at this, and theexpedition waited two nights in camp while its leaders prowled throughthe forest in an attempt to surprise the assassins. It was, of course, afailure. They returned at sunrise, muddy, ragged, and savage, havingneither seen nor heard anything suspicious.
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nbsp; The fact that they never did see their persecutors was the mostharassing feature of it all; and at last Dane grew by turns murderouslyresentful and subject to fits of limp dejection, in which the fever haddoubtless a share. The few villages they passed were empty. Where ariver crossed their path the canoes had been taken away; and atintervals detachments of the carriers fell sick mysteriously. When theylimped out into a waste of crackling, sword-edged grass, the glare anddust and heat were bewildering, and after a few days Dane longed for theforest again.
Still they held on, and one evening they marched, blanched in face, andvery weary, into sight of one of the strongholds of headman Shaillu.