"But we must save him if we can," insisted Dick.
"We cannot," said Ukundo.
"We can try," said Doc.
"Yes, we can try," agreed Ukundo, without enthusiasm, for Ukundo was
a fatalist, believing, as many primitive people do, that whatever is
about to happen must happen and that it is useless to struggle against
it. Perhaps that is why neither he nor Bulala had given any serious
thought to the matter of escape, being content to assume that if Fate
had ordained that they were to be eaten by the Bagalla, they would be
eaten by the Bagalla, and that was all that there was to it.
But Dick and Doc were not fatalists. They knew that their own wit and
ability and courage had a great deal more to do with guiding their
destinies than did any legendary lady called Fate. To them Fate was
just a silly bogy, like the demons of Ukundo, and so they planned and
schemed against the time when conditions might be right for them to
attempt to make a break for liberty. Their difficulties were greatly
increased because of Bulala, but not once did either of them think
of abandoning this good friend without making an attempt to rescue
him, even though failure to do so might almost certainly result in
preventing their own escape.
As night fell, the boys could see the villagers and their guests
assembling for the evening meal. Pots were being brought forth and
filled with water that was set to boil over numerous fires. There was a
great deal of loud talk and laughter. The captives wondered if the pots
of boiling water were waiting to receive Bulala and how soon it would
be before their turn would come, and as they sat there, watching the
fierce and terrible savages, their minds could not but be filled with
gloomy thoughts and dire forebodings, try though they would to cast
them out.
For some time they had sat in silence, when their attention was
attracted by a rustling sound as of a body brushing against the side
of their grass-walled hut. They were sitting just outside the entrance;
someone, or some thing, was approaching from behind the hut, keeping
close to the outside wall, which was in dense shadow.
Dick and Doc drew their knives and waited. Who or what could it be?
Whoever, or whatever it was it was quite evident that it did not wish
anyone to know that it was there; the stealthiness of its approach made
that quite plain.
Slowly Dick rose to his feet, his knife ready in his hand, and Doc
placed himself at Dick's side. Ukundo, unarmed, stood at Dick's left.
Thus the three waited in tense silence while the stealthy sounds
approached along the side of the hut, through the inky darkness of the
shadows cast by the glaring camp fires of the village.
"Demon!" whispered Ukundo.
"Leave him to me then," said Doc. "But if it's a lion you can have it."
"Not a lion," said Ukundo. "Demon--or man!" Presently a low "S-s-t!"
sounded from the shadows.
"Who are you?" demanded Dick.
"What do you want?" asked Doc.
"I am Paabu," whispered a voice, very low. "I come to warn you."
"Come closer," said Doc. "We are alone."
A part of the shadow resolved itself into the youth, as he came nearer
and crouched low against the side of the hut.
"You saved my life to-day," he said, addressing Doc, "so I come to warn
you. Intamo has put poison in food for you. I saw him. Paabu hates
Intamo. That is all! I go!"
"Wait!" urged Doc. "What are they going to do with Bulala?"
Paabu grinned. "Eat him, of course," he said.
"When?"
"Tomorrow night. Next night they eat Ukundo. I think they are afraid of
your medicine. They may not eat you, unless Intamo is able to kill you
with poison."
"They couldn't eat us then," said Dick, "because the poison would kill
them."
"No!" contradicted Paabu. "Intamo take care of that. Intamo make good
poison, and as soon as you die, he cut out all your insides. There will
be no poison in your flesh. If he thinks you eat the poison food, and
then you do not die, he will be afraid. But he will find another way to
kill you unless your medicine is very strong. That is why Paabu come
to warn you--so that you make strong medicine."
He started away.
"Wait!" said Dick again. "Have they killed Bulala yet?"
"No!"
"When will they kill him?"
"Tomorrow."
"Will you do something for me?" asked Doc.
"What?" demanded Paabu.
"Bring us some weapons--four knives, four spears, four bows and some
arrows. Will you do that for me, Paabu?"
"I am afraid. Galla Galla would kill me. Intamo would kill me, if he
knew I come here and speak with you."
"They will never know," insisted Doc.
"I am afraid," said Paabu. "Now I go."
"Look!" whispered Doc. He drew his pocket knife from his loin cloth.
"See this?" and he held the big medicine close to Paabu's face.
The youth drew back in terror. "Do not put it in my head!" he whimpered.
"I will not put it in your head, Paabu," Doc assured him, "because
I am your friend, but I will give it to you, if you will bring us
the weapons. How would you like to own this big medicine that is
stronger than any medicine that Intamo can make? You could be a great
witch-doctor if you owned this, Paabu. What do you say?"
"It will not hurt me?" asked Paabu, fearfully.
"It will not hurt you, if I tell it not to," replied Doc. "If I give it
to you, then it will be yours and so cannot hurt you unless you make
it."
"Very well," said Paabu. "I will bring you the weapons."
"When?" demanded Doc.
"Very soon."
"Good! If you are not back very soon the big medicine will be angry and
then I don't know what it might do to you. Hurry!"
Paabu vanished among the shadows and the three sat down to wait and
plan. At least they had taken the first step, but they were still
inside the village, surrounded by cruel and savage captors.
While they waited, a man came, bringing them food. He was not one who
had brought them food before and they guessed that he had been sent
by Intamo. As soon as he had gone, they dug a hole in the ground and
buried all the food, then they relapsed into silent, anxious waiting.