CHAPTER XXIII.
THE SHADOW OF DANGER.
A few minutes later, Ziffak came through the door of the king'sresidence and greeted the explorers.
His dusky countenance showed unmistakable traces of emotion, but like atrue warrior, he knew how to govern his feelings. When he spoke, therewas no agitation perceptible in his voice.
He motioned to his friends to enter the adjoining hut, where Bippo andPedros had been left. The Professor showing a natural timidity, hestepped forward and led the way.
Immediately, the party found themselves within a structure, which whileno larger than the others, still, in view of the royal prerogatives ofthe occupant perhaps, possessed more conveniences. The lowerapartment, or rather floor, was separated into three divisions, thefront being that in which the cooking was done, while serving also fora sitting and general reception room.
The mother of Ziffak and King Haffgo was a tall, muscular widow ofthreescore and ten, much wrinkled, but strong and active on her feet.Her countenance was darker if possible than that of the head chieftain,making it the more wonderful that Haffgo should be the reverse in thatrespect of both.
The royal mother paid little heed to her visitors, probably believingthey were able to take care of themselves without help from her.Indeed, shortly after the white men entered, she took her departure,and was not seen again until dark, when she came in to help providethem with their evening meal.
Bippo and Pedros finding themselves safe at last were doing what theycould to make up for the sleepless nights and hard labor they hadundergone on their way thither. They were stretched upon some skins inone corner, sleeping heavily and refreshingly.
Ziffak sat on the floor with the whites. It was apparent from hismanner that he was on the point of making a communication ofimportance, but he seemed to change his mind suddenly, and, for a time,spoke upon matters of such trivial account that his listeners weresurprised.
The next astonishing thing which he did was to declare that the storieshe gave to Ashman the night before, when made a prisoner by him werefables. There was no enchanted lake in the neighborhood, and hisaccount of the burning mountain was a myth, as were his yarns about thediamonds obtained from the same mountain.
The Professor nodded his head, laughed and said he was glad to be toldthat; for, while he wished to believe their good friend, when he was inearnest, he found it hard to swallow those marvellous narratives whichexceeded anything that had ever come to their ears.
Long and Ashman also expressed great relief at the naive confession ofthe head chieftain. All the same, however, not one of them wasdeceived by the fellow's subterfuge.
They knew that the stories which Ziffak related on the shore of theXingu were true. Seized at that time by a burst of confidence, he hadunburdened himself to the young man for whom he formed such deepadmiration.
Since that time, and especially since his angry interview with hisroyal brother, he appreciated the grievous mistake he made and was nowanxious to recall it. He, therefore, declared the accounts to be ofthe Munchausen order. His listeners read his purpose and it suitedthem to let him think they accepted every word of his remarkablerecantation.
He impressed upon them that the king was angry because of their comingto his village. Indeed Ziffak was afraid that he would recall hispermission to allow them to stay the two days, and might compel them toleave that night.
This was startling news, and, when Ziffak was pressed, he admitted thatduring his absence on the Xingu to meet them, Waggaman and Burkhardthad returned and secured an audience with His Majesty. This explainedthe new phase of matters and was anything but welcome information, butthere was no help for it.
The Professor asked Ziffak whether he could not bring the two white mento his home, in order that an interview might be had. If that could bedone, Grimcke was hopeful that a better understanding could beestablished, but the head chieftain replied that he had not seen eitherof the white men since he returned, nor did he know where to find them.They occupied a building on the opposite side of the king's home, buthe was told they were not there. No doubt they were purposely keepingout of the way of the new-comers.
Suddenly Ashman asked their friend whether there was any objection tohis taking a stroll around the village and whether he was likely to bemolested. Ziffak promptly replied that there could be no earthlyobjection to anything of that nature, and springing to his feet, gun inhand, he bade his friends good-bye, saying he expected to be back withthem at the end of an hour or so.
It cannot be said that Ashman had any special errand in view, when heformed this resolution, which was explainable upon the well known lawsgoverning the human mind.
He was tired of idleness. The prospect of sitting for hours in thedarkening apartment, talking with Ziffak, who, instead of being willingto give information, was doing his most to withhold it, was notinviting, but beyond this, he was restless because he was haunted bythose marvellous eyes, peeping from behind the curtain in the king'sroom, and that smile of recognition when the gaze of the two met,thrilled him with a new and strange emotion.
It was this feeling which drove him forth. He wanted to escape theprying scrutiny of his friends, who, he fancied, suspected his secret.He wanted to walk in the open air and think and revel in the bliss ofhis new delight.
It was growing dark, when he stepped outside of the building. Therewas no light visible in any direction, though there would be plenty ofit later on. The natives appeared to be moving aimlessly about, andone or two near at hand scrutinized him curiously, but they neitherspoke nor made any movement to annoy him. They had not yet forgottenthe lesson given by Ziffak some hours before.
To escape attention, he walked toward the river, passing down the longsloping bank, until he reached the open, cleared space which has beenreferred to as caused by the overflow of the water. Here the walkingwas easy, and, turning his face up stream, he walked slowly as a mandoes who is in deep thought.
A man who is revelling in the first dream of love is not the one to payclose attention to his surroundings. He is so apt to be rapt in hisown sweet meditations, that he fails in the most ordinary observation.
Reaching the bottom of the slope, Ashman glanced behind and on hisright. He caught glimpses of several figures moving about likeshadows, but so far as he could judge, none of them was interested inhim. Dismissing them from his mind, he moved on.
He had walked less than one-third of the length of the village front,when the form of a man slipped softly down the incline, following inhis footsteps and moving as silently as a Murhapa warrior tracking hisfoe through the forest.
He was dressed similarly to the American, having the same style ofPanama hat, shirt and boots, and he carried a rifle in his hand. Beingof the same race, he ought to have been a friend, but when the brightmoonlight fell upon his face, it showed the countenance of a demon.
He was Burkhardt, an escaped convict, who had lived for five yearsamong the Murhapas, and he was seeking the life of Fred Ashman, who, inhis enchanting visions of love, never dreamed of the awful shadowstealing upon him.