Crouch’s voice was lifted in a shout. "Run for your life!" he cried.
Together they went floundering through the mire. They had to run the
gauntlet for a distance of little more than a hundred paces; but, by
reason of the nature of the ground, their progress was necessarily slow,
and before they had gained the cover afforded by the jungle, several
bullets had whistled past them, and Crouch was limping badly.
"Are you hurt?" asked Max.
"Hit in the leg," said the little captain, as if it were a trifle.
"There ’re no bones broken, but I’m bleeding like a pig."
"Let me look at it," said Max. "The artery may be cut."
They were now well screened by trees. It was impossible that any one
could come upon them unawares. Max took his knife from his pocket,
ripped open the seam of the captain’s trousers, and examined the wound.
The artery was untouched, but there was an ugly wound in the thigh,
which had evidently been made by an enormously heavy bullet.
"Cæsar’s elephant-gun," said Crouch. "By Christopher, I’ll make him pay
for this!"
"Are you sure of that?" said Max.
"Yes," said Crouch. "I caught sight of something white moving among the
trees. I knew at once that Cæsar was there with his Arabs."
Meanwhile, with quick fingers, Max was folding his handkerchief
lengthwise for a bandage.
"Wait a bit," said Crouch. "I’ll soon stop that flow of blood. I’ve a
special remedy of my own." Whereupon he produced his tobacco-pouch; and
before Max could stop it, he had taken a large plug of his vile, black
tobacco, dipped it into a puddle of water, and thumbed the lot into the
open wound, as a man charges a pipe.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Max, with memories of his hospital days.
"You’ll get septic poisoning! You can’t do that!"
Crouch looked up. There was a twinkle in his only eye.
"So much for science," said he. "When you get back to London, you can
tell the doctors they’re wrong. If it amuses ’em to play with
antiseptics--and they’re fond of the smell of carbolic--they’re welcome
to do what they like. As for me, I’ve used this remedy for twenty
years, and I’m not inclined to try another."
Max looked worried. He was convinced that Crouch would die of
blood-poisoning, and was beginning to wonder how, in that benighted,
tropical forest, he was going to amputate the captain’s leg.
"Don’t you fret," said Crouch, tying the bandage himself. "Maybe, one
brand of tobacco’s not so good as another. It’s my belief that if they
cut off your head, you could stick it on again with Bull’s Eye Shag." By
then he had got to his feet. "Come on," said he; "this man won’t let us
get away if he can help it. Follow me."
So saying, he plunged into the jungle, and though he was now limping
like a lame dog, it was all Max could do to keep up with him.
Time and again he dived through what had looked like impenetrable
thickets. He seemed to know by instinct where to go. He avoided
quagmires. He sprang over fallen trees. He wormed his way through
creepers, the branches of which were thick as ropes.
Frequently he stopped to listen, and sometimes placed his ear to the
ground.
"They’re after us!" he cried once. He pulled out his compass and looked
at it. "We must get back to the canoe," he said. "The river’s to the
east."
Soon after they struck what to all intents and purposes was a path. It
was, in fact, the "run" of some wild animals, and doubtless led to the
place where they were in the habit of drinking. It was no more than two
feet across; and about four feet from the ground the undergrowth from
either side met in a kind of roof; so that they found themselves in a
tunnel, along which, if they stooped sufficiently, they were able to
make good headway.
Suddenly Crouch, who was still leading, stopped dead, and held his rifle
at the ready. Max stopped, too, and listened.
Something was moving in the jungle. They heard distinctly a quick,
panting sound, coming nearer and nearer.
"There!" cried Crouch. "Shoot!"
He pointed down the tunnel, in the direction they had come. Max turned,
and beheld the head of a great beast thrust through the leaves of some
creeping plant that bound the trunks of two trees together in a kind of
lattice-work.
It is unfortunate that the mind cannot retain a complete recollection of
scenes that have momentarily impressed us. Most of us, when asked to
describe in every detail even the most familiar objects, fall very short
of the mark. How much more so must this be the case when we look upon
something for no longer than a second, and then it is no more.
Max will never forget that moment. He remembers the main features of
the scene, but there were a thousand and one details, which impressed
him at the time, that he is no longer able to remember.
The semi-darkness of the jungle; the moist ground whereon he stood,
where multi-coloured orchids showed like little evil faces in the
twilight; the tangled undergrowth; and in places, like peep-holes
through which the daylight streamed, the shadows of the tall trees
towering high above. The scene, in its luxury and darkness, stood for
all that is savage, for all that is Africa--the country where the white
man ventures at his peril. And if anything were needed to complete this
strong suggestion of the wild, it was the great head and white, gleaming
fangs of the unknown beast which, half invisible, seemed as if it were
the unholy spirit of the place. On the spur of the moment, Max lifted
his rifle and fired.
"Well done!" cried Crouch, who brushed past his elbow.
A moment later they found themselves kneeling on either side of the
prostrate and lifeless figure of Gyp.
"There lies our thief," said Crouch; "and the thief’s master ’s not so
far away."
Max felt profoundly sorry in his heart that he had killed so magnificent
a creature. If the dog had hunted them, she had been told to do so by
her master. The only crime which could be laid to the account of the
Great Dane was obedience to Cæsar.
They remained by the body of the dog no longer than a few seconds, and
after that they pushed on upon their way, still following the course of
the tunnel, or "run." At length, when least they expected it, they
found themselves at the water’s edge, at the place where the rapids were
inordinately swift.
The water foamed and swirled upon its way, lashing the banks, forming
little whirlpools in mid-stream, and bounding in waves over the trunks
of trees which had fallen into the river.
"Sit down," said Crouch. "There’s no hurry. We may as well talk
matters out."
Max looked at his companion. Now that they were in the sunlight, he was
able to see Crouch’s face. He was alarmed to notice that the little
captain looked haggard and drawn. His lips were pressed together, as
though he were in pain, and his only serviceable eye was puckered and
screwed up. Seeing Max’s anxiety, he did his best to smile.
"The Bull’s Eye ’s beginning to work," said he.
"How do you mean?" asked Max.
"After a bit it begins to smart. It smarts for about three days, and
then the blamed thing’s healed. Sit down, my boy. This man Cæsar
annoys me. I want to think it out."
They seated themselves at the river bank, and Crouch kept an ear towards
the jungle, in order to be warned if any one should approach.
"What about the canoe?" asked Max.
"It’s up-stream," said the other, with a nod of the head. "If we work
our way along the bank, we can’t miss it. To tell you the truth, I want
a rest; I feel queer. And, besides, I want to think."
Max asked him what was on his mind.
"Cæsar," said he. "I should like to know how the man managed to get
here." Then he went on, thinking aloud, as was his custom. "There may
be a path through the jungle; but I doubt if even then he would have
been able to come this distance on foot. And yet his canoe never passed
Hippo Pool, or we should have seen it--that’s sure enough." Then, on a
sudden, he slapped his knee. "By Christopher," he cried, "I have it! I
remember!"
"You remember what?" asked Max.
"About half-way between the Pool and Makanda I remember seeing the
entrance of a little back-water, on the left bank of the river. That
back-water probably rejoins the river somewhere about here. It’s all as
plain as a pikestaff. He has come north by the back-water, which
accounts for us not having seen him pass through Hippo Pool. The end of
that back-water is either between here and the place where we left the
canoe, or else farther down-stream. Come," said Crouch, "we’ll get the
better of this rascal. Perhaps, for once, Fortune will play into our
hands."
He struggled to his feet, but immediately turned pale, and was obliged
to support himself against the trunk of a tree.
"I feel mighty dizzy," he said. "I’ve lost a deal of blood."
"You had better stay here," said Max; "I’ll work along the bank until I
find the canoe, and then come back to you. I don’t like leaving you,
but there’s nothing else to be done. Perhaps the canoe is not far
away."
"It’s farther than you think," said Crouch; "that tunnel took us almost
due north. Besides, I can tell by the water. The rapids are pretty
strong; we can’t be far from the ravine."
"Will we be able to paddle against it, do you think?" asked Max.
Crouch looked at the river.
"Yes," said he. "My arms are all right, though I’ve gone wrong in the
leg. You get off, and come back here as quickly as you can. If you see
Cæsar, shoot."
At that Max set off alone. He soon found it impossible to make any
progress on the actual bank of the river, since here, by reason of the
moisture that was in the ground, the vegetation was so dense and tangled
that a weasel would have found some difficulty in making any headway.
He soon found, however, that by moving about thirty yards from the river
bank, he could make his way southward with tolerable ease. From time to
time he forced his way to the river’s edge, and looked both up-stream
and down, to note if he could see any sign of the canoe.
The sun was in the mid-heavens, and the heat intense. The jungle was
alive with sounds. The evening before there had been a heavy shower of
rain, and now the vapour rose like steam, and the moisture dropped from
the trees. To his left he could hear the roar of the rapids as the
river plunged upon its way, and this served to guide him, making it
possible for him to hold his course parallel to the river bank. He was
followed by a swarm of insects that droned and buzzed in his ears. The
perspiration fell from his forehead in great drops, and frequently he
found himself caught and held fast by strong, hook-like thorns.
Presently the forest opened. It was like coming out of a darkened room
into the light. For a moment he was unable to see. During that moment
he fancied he heard a sound quite near to him--a sound of something that
moved. Looking about him, he discovered that he was standing in long
reeds which reached almost to his chest. To his right, the trees of the
forest were extended in a kind of avenue, and at their feet was a
narrow, swiftly-flowing stream.
He had discovered Cæsar’s back-water. Moreover, he had discovered
Cæsar’s canoe, for there it was, its bows just visible, peeping through
the reeds.