Both Cæsar and Edward hastened to the captain’s side. Sure enough, upon
the calf of his leg, were two small drops of blood, about a quarter of
an inch apart, where the fangs of the reptile had entered.
Crouch looked up at Cæsar. His voice was perfectly calm.
"Where’s the kitchen?" he demanded.
The tall Portuguese appeared suspicious.
"The kitchen is quite near at hand," said he. "Do you want to go
there?"
"Yes," said Crouch. "Lead the way. There’s no time to lose."
They passed out and entered a smaller hut, from which a column of smoke
was rising through a hole in the roof. In the centre of the floor was a
large charcoal brazier, at which a man was squatting in the
characteristic attitude of the East. Crouch lifted his eyebrows in
surprise when he saw that this man was an Arab.
"Tongs," said he in Arabic. "Lend me a pair of tongs."
The man, expressionless, produced the article in question.
Crouch took a piece of charcoal from the brazier, that was white-hot,
and, without a moment’s hesitation, he thrust this upon the place where
the poison had entered his flesh. As he underwent that agony, his
sallow face turned a trifle paler, his lips grew thinner, and his only
eye more bright; but never a groan, or even a sigh, escaped him.
At last he threw the charcoal back into the fire.
"That’s all right," said he. "It isn’t a pleasant remedy, but it’s
sure." Then he turned to Cæsar. "I should like a little whisky," said
he. "I feel a trifle faint."
He asked for Edward’s arm to assist him on his way, and no sooner were
they clear of the kitchen than he whispered in Harden’s ear--
"There’s nothing to worry about," said he. "I’m as right as rain. I
was never bitten at all. But I had to stop you somehow, or you would
have told that fellow what we heard of the Fire-gods. Mind, he must
know nothing."
When they got back to the hut, Cæsar gave Crouch half a tumblerful of
neat whisky, which the captain drained at a gulp. Needless to say,
their efforts to find the snake proved fruitless. Then Crouch again
complained of faintness, and asked permission to lie down upon the bed.
No sooner was he there than he closed his eyes, and soon afterwards was
sound asleep--if one was entitled to judge by his heavy breathing. Once
or twice he snored.
But, already, we have seen enough of Captain Crouch to know that, in his
case, it would not be wise to go by appearances. He was no more asleep
than he had been throughout those long hours when he had kept watch in
the bows of the canoe.
Cæsar motioned to Edward to be seated at the table, and Max took the
chair which had been formerly occupied by Crouch. De Costa remained
seated upon the chest.
"Let me see," said Cæsar; "of what were we speaking? Ah, yes, I
remember. I was asking if the natives had made any mention of us."
"We asked many questions," said Harden, "but they knew little or nothing
of the Hidden River. For some reason or other, they seemed to fear it."
Cæsar regarded Edward intently for a few seconds; and then, seeming
satisfied, he shrugged his shoulders.
"Their minds are filled with superstitions," said he. "And now it
remains for me to explain myself. I came to this valley two years ago.
I had already journeyed some distance up the Congo, in search of ivory.
I discovered that in the jungle in this valley elephants abound;
moreover, these elephants are finer than any others I have ever seen in
any part of Africa, even those of the East Coast, whose tusks are stored
at Zanzibar. I made this place my headquarters. I regard the whole
country as my own happy hunting-ground. I naturally resent all
new-comers, especially Europeans. I look upon them as trespassers. Of
course, I have no right to do so; I know that quite well. But you must
understand that here, in the heart of Africa, the laws of civilized
nations hardly apply. To all intents and purposes this country is my
own. In the kraal yonder I have two hundred of the finest elephant
hunters between the Zambesi and the Congo. I pay them well. I have
already a great store of ivory. In another two years I hope to retire
to Portugal, a wealthy man. That is all my story."
"How do you kill your elephants?" asked Edward. The hunting of big game
was the foremost interest of his life.
Cæsar smiled.
"You will not approve of my methods," said he. "You are a sportsman; I
am only a trader. I send my natives into the jungle, in the direction
in which a herd of elephants has been located. These fellows creep on
all-fours amid the undergrowth. They are as invisible as snakes. They
are armed with long knives, with which they cut the tendons of the
elephants’ hind-legs, just below the knee. If an elephant tries to walk
after that tendon has been severed, it falls to the ground and breaks
its leg. The great beasts seem to know this, for they remain motionless
as statues. When all the finest tuskers have been thus disposed of, I
come with my rifle and shoot them, one after the other. Thus it is that
I have collected a great store of tusks."
Edward Harden made a wry face.
"I have heard of that manner of hunting," said he. "It is much
practised on the East Coast. I consider it barbarous and cruel."
Cæsar smiled again.
"I told you," said he, "you would not approve."
Harden swung round in his chair, with a gesture of disgust.
"I would like to see the ivory trade stopped," he cried, in a sudden
flood of anger, very rare in a man naturally prone to be unexcitable and
mild. "I regard the elephant as a noble animal--the noblest animal that
lives. I myself have shot many, but the beast has always had a chance,
though I will not deny the odds were always heavily on me. Still, when I
find myself face to face with a rogue elephant, I know that my life is
in danger. Now, there is no danger in your method, which is the method
of the slaughter-house. At this rate, very soon there will be no
elephants left in Africa."
"I’m afraid," said Cæsar, with a shrug of the shoulders, "we would never
agree, because you’re a sportsman and I’m a trader. In the meantime, I
will do all I can to make you comfortable during your stay at Makanda."
"Is that the name of this place?" asked Max.
"Yes," said the Portuguese. "There was a native village when I came
here--just a few scattered huts. The natives called the place Makanda,
which, I believe, means a crater. The hills which surround us are
evidently the walls of an extinct volcano. But, to come back to
business, I can provide a hut for your Fan attendants, but they must be
ordered not to leave the stockade. You have noticed, perhaps, that I
employ a few Arabs. I am fond of Arabs myself; they are such excellent
cooks. An Arab is usually on sentry at the gate of the stockade. That
man will receive orders to shoot any one of the Fans who endeavours to
pass the gate. These methods are rather arbitrary, I admit; but in the
heart of Africa, what would you have? It is necessary to rule with an
iron hand. Were I to be lax in discipline, my life would be in danger.
Also, I must request you and your friends not to leave the stockade,
unattended by either de Costa or myself. The truth is, there are
several hostile tribes in the neighbourhood, and it is only with the
greatest difficulty that I can succeed in maintaining peace."
"I’m sure," said Harden, "you will find us quite ready to do anything
you wish. After all, the station is yours; and in this country a man
makes his own laws."
"That is so," said Cæsar; and added, "I’m responsible to no one but
myself."
This man had an easy way of talking and a plausible manner that would
have deceived a more acute observer than Edward Harden. As he spoke he
waved his hand, as if the whole matter were a trifle. He ran on in the
same casual fashion, with an arm thrown carelessly over the back of his
chair, sending the smoke of his cigarette in rings towards the ceiling.
"Most of us come to Africa to make money," said he; "and as the climate
is unhealthy, the heat unbearable, and the inhabitants savages, we
desire to make that money as quickly as possible, and then return to
Europe. That is my intention. For myself, I keep tolerably well; but
de Costa here is a kind of living ague. He is half consumed with
malaria; he can’t sleep by night, he lies awake with chattering teeth.
Sometimes his temperature is so high that his pulse is racing. At other
times he is so weak that he is unable to walk a hundred paces. He looks
forward to the day when he shakes the dust of Africa from his shoes and
returns to his native land, which--according to him--is Portugal,
though, I believe, he was born in Jamaica."
Max looked at the half-caste, and thought that never before had he set
eyes upon so despicable an object. He looked like some mongrel cur. He
was quite unable to look the young Englishman in the face, but under
Max’s glance dropped his eyes to the floor.
"And now," said Cæsar, "there is a hut where I keep my provisions, which
I will place at your disposal."
At that he went outside, followed by the two Hardens. De Costa remained
in the hut. Crouch was still asleep.
Cæsar called the Arab from the kitchen, and, assisted by this man and
the five Fans, they set to work to remove a number of boxes from the hut
in which it was proposed that the three Englishmen should sleep.
Blankets were spread upon the ground. The tall Portuguese was most
solicitous that his guests should want for nothing. He brought candles,
a large mosquito-net, and even soap.
Supper that evening was the best meal which Max had eaten since he left
the sea-going ship at Banana Point on the Congo. The Portuguese was
well provided with stores. He produced several kinds of vegetables,
which, he said, he grew at a little distance from the stockade. He had
also a great store of spirits, being under the entirely false impression
that in tropical regions stimulants maintain both health and physical
strength.
After supper, Cæsar and Captain Crouch, who had entirely recovered from
his faintness, played écarté with an exceedingly dirty pack of cards.
And a strange picture they made, these two men, the one so small and
wizened, the other so tall and black, each coatless, with their
shirt-sleeves rolled to the elbow, fingering their cards in the
flickering light of a tallow candle stuck in the neck of a bottle.
Crouch knew it then--and perhaps Cæsar knew it, too--that they were
rivals to the death, in a greater game than was ever played with cards.
They went early to bed, thanking Cæsar for his kindness. Before he left
the hut, Edward Harden apologized for his rudeness in finding fault with
the trader’s method of obtaining ivory.
"It was no business of mine," said he. "I apologize for what I said."
No sooner were the three Englishmen in their hut, than Crouch seized
each of his friends by an arm, and drew them close together.
"Here’s the greatest devilry you ever heard of!" he exclaimed.
"How?" said Edward. "What do you mean?"
"As yet," said Crouch, "I know nothing. I merely suspect. Mark my
words, it’ll not be safe to go to sleep. One of us must keep watch."
"What makes you suspicious?" asked Max. Throughout this conversation
they talked in whispers. Crouch had intimated that they must not be
overheard.
"A thousand things," said Crouch. "In the first place, I don’t like the
look of Arabs. There’s an old saying on the Niger, ’Where there’s an
Arab, there’s mischief.’ Also, he’s got something he doesn’t wish us to
see. That’s why he won’t let us outside the stockade. Besides,
remember what the natives told us. The tribes the whole country round
stand in mortal fear of this fellow, and they don’t do that for nothing.
The Fans are a brave race, and so are the Pambala. And do you remember,
they told us that every evening there’s thunder in the valley which
shakes the earth? No, he’s up to no good, and I shall make it my
business to find out what his game is."
"Then you don’t believe that he’s an ivory trader?" asked Max.
"Not a word of it!" said Crouch. "Where’s the ivory? He talks of this
store of tusks, but where does he keep it? He says he’s been here for
two years. In two years, by the wholesale manner in which he has been
killing elephants, according to his own account, he should have a pile
of ivory ten feet high at least. And where is it? Not in a hut; not
one of them is big enough. I suppose he’ll ask us to believe that he
keeps it somewhere outside the stockade."
"I never thought of that," said Harden, tugging the ends of his
moustache. "I wonder what he’s here for."
"So do I," said Crouch.
Soon after that, at Crouch’s request, Harden and Max lay down upon their
blankets, and were soon fast asleep. As for the captain, he also lay
down, and for more than an hour breathed heavily, as if in sleep. Then,
without a sound, he began to move forward on hands and knees across the
floor of the hut.
When he reached the door he came into the moonlight, and had there been
any one there to see, they would have noticed that he carried a
revolver, and there was a knife between his teeth.
As quick as a lizard he glided into the shade beneath the walls of the
hut. There he lay for some minutes, listening, with all his senses
alert.
This man had much in common with the wild beasts of the forests. He was
quick to hear, quick to see; it seemed as if he even had the power to
scent danger, as the reed-buck or the buffalo.
His ears caught nothing but the varied sounds of wild, nocturnal life in
the jungle. The stockade was not more than a hundred paces distant from
the skirting of the forest. Somewhere near at hand a leopard growled,
and a troop of monkeys, frightened out of their wits, could be heard
scrambling through the branches of the trees. Farther away, a pair of
lions were hunting; there is no sound more terrible and haunting than
the quick, panting noise that is given by this great beast of prey as it
follows upon the track of an antelope or deer. Then, far in the
distance, there was a noise, so faint as to be hardly audible, like the
beating of a drum. Crouch knew what it was. Indeed, in these matters
there was little of which he was ignorant. It was a great gorilla,
beating its stomach in passion in the darkness. And that is a sound
before which every animal that lives in the jungle quails and creeps
away into hiding; even the great pythons slide back into the depths of
silent, woodland pools.
But it was not to the forest that Crouch’s ear was turned. He was
listening for a movement in the hut in which slept the Portuguese
trader, who went by the name of Cæsar. After a while, seeming
satisfied, he crawled on, in absolute silence, in the half-darkness,
looking for all the world like some cruel four-footed beast that had
come slinking from out of the jungle.
He reached the door of the hut, and crept stealthily in. Inside, he was
not able to see. It was some little time before his eye grew accustomed
to the darkness.
Then he was just able to discern the long figure of the Portuguese
stretched upon his couch. Half-raising himself, he listened, with his
ear not two inches from the man’s mouth. Cæsar was breathing heavily.
He was evidently fast asleep.
Still on hands and knees, as silently as ever, Crouch glided out of the
hut.
Instead of returning by the way he had come, he turned in the opposite
direction, and approached another hut. It was that which belonged to
the half-caste, de Costa, whom he had met five years before in St. Paul
de Loanda.
Once again he passed in at the door, silently, swiftly, with his knife
still in his teeth.
This hut was even darker than the other, by reason of the fact that the
door was smaller. Crouch sat up, and rubbed his eyes, and inwardly
abused the universe in general because he was not able to see.
Suddenly there was a creaking noise, as if some one moved on the bed.
Crouch was utterly silent. Then some one coughed. The cough was
followed by a groan. De Costa sat up in bed. Crouch was just able to
see him.
The little half-caste, resting his elbows on his knees, took his head
between his hands, and rocked from side to side. He talked aloud in
Portuguese. Crouch knew enough of that language to understand.
"Oh, my head!" he groaned. "My head! My head!" He was silent for no
longer than a minute; then he went on: "Will I never be quit of this
accursed country! The fever is in my bones, my blood, my brain!"
He turned over on his side, and, stretching out an arm, laid hold upon a
match-box. They were wooden matches, and they rattled in the box.
Then he struck a light and lit a candle, which was glued by its own
grease to a saucer. When he had done that he looked up, and down the
barrel of Captain Crouch’s revolver.