Boy Aviators in Africa; Or, an Aerial Ivory Trail

  CHAPTER V

  THE POOL OF DEATH

  "Say, Frank, have you noticed that we are going to have a hardpaddle back against this current?"

  The boys had been fishing about an hour when Harry spoke. Soengrossed had they both been pulling in fish of a dozen strangevarieties and brilliant hues that neither of the lads had noticedthat the canoe had drifted down stream far from the starting pointand that in fact when they looked up they were in an entirelystrange part of the river.

  "You are right, Harry," rejoined Frank, as he looked up at the steepbanks on either side of them, "we have drifted a considerabledistance. Come on, out with the paddles and we'll be getting back."

  But it was one thing to talk of getting back and quite another thingto do it. The boys, after an hour of paddling, were dismayed tofind that although their arms ached with the exertion and they weredripping with perspiration, they had made hardly any progressagainst the current.

  "It's too much for us," gasped Frank.

  "What on earth are we going to do?" asked Harry with blanchedcheeks.

  Frank glanced at the shore on either side. For a minute he hadentertained a thought of landing and walking back along the beach.But there was no beach.

  The river boiled along between narrow walls which shot sheer up fromthe water. There was not even a niche in their smooth surface toafford a foothold to a mountain goat. They were caught in a trap.

  The only thing to do was to drift down the river and trust to luckto find a landing-place. In their extremity they shouted at the topof their voices to let their comrades know of their plight, buttheir cries were unanswered and they began to wish that they hadsaved their breath to use in the task of keeping the canoe steady inthe current.

  While they had been pondering their situation, moreover, they hadbeen swept with almost incredible rapidity down the river. Thewalls here grew narrower and narrower and the water fairly boiled inits narrow confines. Its dark surface was flecked with white foam,and to make matters worse, as the walls closed in the light becamefainter, till the boys were being carried downward through almostsubterranean darkness.

  In the intense gloom their white strained faces shone out likepallid beacon-lights.

  "Hold her steady," said Frank in a tense voice as the canoe wobbledcrazily in the swollen current.

  "I'm doing the best I can," gasped out poor Harry desperately plyinghis paddle.

  It the canoe was to get broadside onto the current, even for thefraction of a second, Frank well knew that nothing could save them.It was a terrible situation.

  Helplessly they were being borne at dizzy speed to what seemedalmost certain death--for certain it was that they could not holdout much longer. Already their overstrained muscles were onlymechanically doing their duty, but before long Frank realized thateven his-well-trained young body must collapse--and then, what?

  Suddenly there was borne to their ears a sound that made both boyschill with terror.

  It was a mighty roaring like the furious boiling of some giantkettle. A thousand shouting voices seemed blended into one to formthe music, of this ominous orchestra. Louder the noise grew andlouder, as the pass through which the river now tore like a runawayrace-horse grew narrower and blacker.

  What could the awful uproar mean?

  They had not long to wait before the truth burst upon them. Theywere nearing, at what seemed express speed, a whirling, roaring massof waters that shouted at them like some animal calling for itsprey. The boys' cheeks blanched as they realized that nothing but amiracle could save them from being sucked into this watery abyss.

  Desperately they plied their paddles but if they had been uselessfurther up the stream they were doubly inefficient now. If they hadstroked against the rushing current with feathers they could nothave had less effect in checking the death rush of the canoe, whichwas tossed along on the racing tide like a chip of wood.

  Suddenly the canoe was struck a terrific blow.

  Before either boy could realize what had happened they were bothstruggling in the water. So dazed were they by the mishap that itwas several minutes before they understood that they were clingingto the to the trunk of some huge tree. It was this trunk that hadwrecked the canoe and thrown them overboard.

  In reality, though, they were little better off now than they hadbeen while the canoe was being whirled down the river. It looked asif they had been saved from one death only to face a worse. Withall their might they clung side by side. Dripping wet, half-blindedand bruised by the battering they got as the trunk smashed from sideto side of the narrow passage, the indomitable American pluck of thetwo lads yet held good in this extremity.

  "Is it good-by, Frank?" Harry found strength to murmur.

  "While there's life there's hope," came Frank's brave reply in hisfavorite axiom. "We'll live to fly the old Golden Eagle yet, let'shope."

  There was no time for further talk, even had the boys been in anyposition to consider conversation. The trunk was rapidly nearingthe whirlpool--and death.

  Small wonder that brave as the boys were a despairing cry burst fromtheir throats as they saw what seemed the end of their ride closeupon them. It was as if they could feel the breath of the PaleHorseman already blowing chilly in their faces.

  But suddenly a strange thing happened.

  Both boys had closed their eyes and only moved their lips in prayeras they saw that inevitably in a few minutes they must be suckedinto the maelstrom. Now, however, they opened them in amazement.

  The swift rush of the log to which they clung like drowned rats hadstopped.

  It took them only a few seconds to take in what had occurred. Thegreat log swinging one end toward the swirling current had jammedclear across the stream and for a time at any rate they were savedfrom immediate death. In their joy they clasped each other's handswarmly but their first rush of relief did not last long. As amatter of fact they were not any nearer safely than they had been afew minutes previous.

  The log, it was true, was jammed across the stream, but theconsequent backing up of the impetuous current caused it to rushacross the boys' refuge in such volumes as to almost sweep them fromtheir perches.

  It was very evident that they could not hold put indefinitely inthis position.

  Their attention was attracted as they clung to their water-swepttree-trunk by a dark object whirling about in the boiling pool. Itwas swept dizzily round and round in ever decreasing circles towardthe middle of the fatal vortex. Suddenly it shot downward out ofsight, but as it did so Frank had seen something that kindled oneray of hope--though a feeble one. Before the canoe had taken thefatal downward plunge it had hesitated for a minute as though caughton something; and then the boy leader saw for the first time that inthe center of the pool there was a rock, although the water thatsubmerged it to the depth of an inch or so prevented its being seenat first glance.

  Frank turned to Harry and told him of his discovery.

  "If we are cast into the pool let us make up our minds to get tothat rock. Keep your mind concentrated on it. Don't let the idealeave you for a second and perhaps--I say 'perhaps'--we can makeit."

  Harry shook his head despairingly.

  "I can hardly keep my grip on this tree. I don't believe that Icould possibly manage to swim even a few yards," he groaned.

  "You must," said Frank sharply. "Don't give in now, Harry. Stickit out."

  Then as a sudden thought struck him he continued.

  "See here, it's no good our wasting our strength clinging to thistrunk any longer. Sooner or later we shall be swept off and thelonger we wait the less reserve strength we shall have. Let usleave go now and swim for it."

  Whatever reply Harry might have tendered to this desperate proposalhe was spared making, for at that moment a wave of more thanordinary force--caused by the backed-up water striking the log--struckhim full in the face and before he knew it the boy had been washedfrom the tree trunk and was being carried like a straw down the stream.
r />   As Harry felt himself being carried along there was only one thoughtin his mind. It was not of death. When death is right upon a manor a boy he rarely thinks of it, but casts about for the best meansof saving himself. Nor does--as some imaginative writers have toldus--a man's whole past life come before him at such moments.No--the instinct of self-preservation is strongest when a humanbeing is in the direst need, and so it was that in Harry's mind onethought kept hammering away like the strokes of a tolling bell.

  "Try-and-make-the-rock. Try-and-make-the-rock."

  Frank's insistence had done this much. It had caused the boy torecollect the one hope of salvation that the desperate situationheld out. As he was swept down the torrent Harry made no effort toswim. It would have been worse than useless and besides he neededto husband his strength for the final struggle he knew was upon him.

  The next minute he felt a sickening swirling sensation and realizedthat he was in the whirlpool's death-grip at last.

  Faster and faster the boy was hurried in ever decreasing circles.Dizzy, half-choked with water, blinded and almost exhausted Harry,with the tenacity of a bull dog, still clung tenaciously to the oneidea:

  "Try-and-make-the-rock. Try-and-make-the-rock."

  Suddenly, he was flung against a hard substance. With outstretchedfingers he clutched at the slimy surface as of what he realized wasthe end of his journey at last. The great stone was covered withslimy weed, however, and his grasping fingers refused to clutch atany friendly niche in its surface.

  With a despairing cry the boy was being swept in to the terrible mouthof the pool when he felt himself seized and pulled up out of the gripof the torrent. He knew no more till he opened his eyes and foundFrank by his side. Both boys were on the rock--sitting on it in twoinches or more of water. Fortunately in that climate the water wasnot so chilly as to cause discomfort, but this was about the onlycrumb of satisfaction the situation held for them.

  "Well done, old fellow," said Frank as Harry opened his eyes. "Youhad a narrow escape, though."

  Harry could only look at his brother gratefully. How deep was hisdebt of gratitude to him both boys realized without their talking ofit.

  "How did you gain the rock, Frank?" asked Harry.

  "When I saw you swept off the tree trunk I slipped off too," repliedFrank, "and when I felt myself dragged into the pool I struck outfor the rock. I confess, though, I didn't have much hope ofreaching it till I was slammed into it with a blow that almostcracked my ribs and knocked all the wind out of me. I managedhowever to grab hold of a depression in the surface and maintain mygrip on it. I had hardly dragged myself up when you were hurledagainst it. I thought I had lost you, for the water pulled like adraught-horse, but I managed to hold on to you and here we are."

  "And a worse position we could not possibly be in," added Harry.

  "Unless we were in there," retorted Frank pointing, not without ashudder, to the whirling open mouth of the pool which had suckeddown the wreck of their canoe.

  "What is it do you suppose?" asked Harry wonderingly.

  "The mouth of a subterranean river I guess," replied Frank. "I haveread of such things."

  "But why didn't Desplaines warn us of our danger," said Harrybitterly, "if we ever get out of this I shall tell him my opinion ofhim pretty strongly. We might have been killed and we may yet."

  "He did warn us," replied Frank calmly.

  "He did?"

  "Yes."

  "I should like to know when?"

  "When we shoved off."

  "You mean when he shouted something we couldn't catch and pointeddown the river?"

  "That's it."

  "I thought he meant there was better fishing down, here," snappedHarry indignantly, "what idiots we were."

  "Yes; not to notice how we were drifting," rejoined Frank quietly,"it's no use to blame Mr. Desplaines for this pickle. We have onlyourselves to be angry with. I don't suppose he ever thought thattwo boys would not notice how they were drifting in a ten milecurrent."

  "The point is how are we ever going to get out of it?"

  How indeed?

  As the boys looked about they saw little to encourage them. Thechasm in which they were beleaguered was not more than fifteen feetacross, but on either side shot up walls of rock so steep and smooththat not even a fern could find root on their polished surfaces.

  Where the whirlpool sank into the bowels of the earth the walls cametogether at an angle forming a sort of triangular prison. At thetop of this trap the boys could see a strip of blue sky and theoutlines of the graceful tops of some bulbous stemmed palms butnothing else. Once a vulture sailed across the strip and sightingthe two boys came lower to investigate. The sight of the carrionbird made both of the boys shudder.

  "Ugh, he scents a meal, he thinks we're dead already," cried Harrydisgustedly.

  The sound of his voice echoed gloomily among the rocks.

  "We're dead already," came back in sepulchral tones.

  "I shan't try to wake that echo up again," said Harry in a low toneand shivering at the uncanny voice of the rock.

  Neither of the boys spoke for a long time. They sat there silently,occasionally standing up to get the stiffness out of their limbstill the strip of sky above began to darken to gray.

  "Well, here goes!" exclaimed Harry suddenly.

  Frank glanced sharply up. He did not like the wild tone in whichthe words were spoken.

  "What is it?" he asked sharply.

  "I'm tired of this, I'm going to swim for it," replied Harry with afoolish, hysterical laugh.

  Frank saw what had happened. The boy had become half-deliriousunder the mental strain he had undergone.

  "Sit down, old fellow," he said kindly, "help will come soon I amsure."

  "Yes, a steamboat will come sailing down the river and take us homein the captain's cabin I suppose," said Harry foolishly.

  But nevertheless Frank's stern command to "shut up" and not make afoot of himself brought him to his senses and he said no more tillthe stillness was broken by a sudden cry from above.

  "Bosses--oh, bosses."

  "Ahoy there; castaways!"

  Frank looked up.

  The cry of joy he gave set the echoes flying in the gloomy canyon.

  It was the black face of Sikaso that was gazing down on them andbeside it was Ben Stubbs' weather-beaten countenance. Behind themwere Billy, Lathrop and the rest.

  "Hold on there and we'll get you out of that in two shakes of aduck's tail," cheerily hailed the old adventurer. "We guessed you'dbe here and we brought a rope as long as a man of war's cable withus. Lucky thing we did."

  The next minute a long rope of vegetable fiber came snaking down theside of the cliff and to one end of it clung Ben Stubbs. As hereached the bottom--the rope being cautiously paid out from above byhis companions--the old seaman swung himself outward from the faceof the rock and "in a brace of shakes," as he would have said, stoodalongside the two boys. In a second his sharp eye took in Harry'swild looks and hysterical greetings and realized what had happened.

  "Now, Frank," he ordered, giving the young aviator the end of therope--"catch hold tight and when you are ready give the word."

  "But Harry--" gasped Frank, "I can't leave him. Let him go first."

  "I'll bring him up. He can't look after himself in the shape he'sin and you are too weak to attempt to help him. Now no talkingback. I'm boss now. Up aloft with you. Haul away there!"

  The next minute Frank, clinging to the rope, was being hauledcautiously up the side of the sheer cliff by careful hands andshortly he was in the arms of his friends.

  Ben Stubbs--to whom the rope with a weight at the end of it had beenswung pendulum wise--next appeared at the summit with Harry in hisstrong grip. But it was a white faced inanimate burden he carried.The boy had swooned.

  "He'll be all right in a few minutes," said Ben Stubbs as M.Desplaines and the others all tried to explain at once to Frank howSikaso had guessed what had happe
ned when the boys did not return.The Krooman had led the party by secret native trails to the clifftop. Frank clasped the huge black's hand with real gratitude andtears of thankfulness brimmed in his eyes.

  "How can I ever thank you," he said.

  "Um--white boys keep away Pool of Death, Sikaso much pleased,"replied the Krooman turning slowly away with a sad expression on hisface.

  "His own son was drowned in it several years ago," said M.Desplaines briefly.