THE PYTHON
Royce and the two negroes marched steadily on, stopping only for
brief intervals of rest. The track led northwards towards the River
Yo and the Tubus' country beyond.
Late in the afternoon they came to a spot where the trail forked. It
was clear that part of the enemy's force had continued on the direct
northward course, while another part, apparently the smaller, had
diverged to the east. It took John only a few seconds to determine
which of the two parties included the prisoners. Besides the hoof
marks, there were many prints of bare feet on the soil, and among
these John detected the impressions made by Challis's boots. These
were in the direct track going northwards. The track diverging to
the east was made by hoofs only.
"Dem go to fort, sah--oh yes!" said John.
"Why do you think so?" Royce asked.
John grinned.
"No savvy what for," he said; "savvy all same."
Royce was aware that the fort lay eastward of them, but he had
supposed that it was rather to the south than to the north. Like
many negroes, John, as was afterwards proved, had almost as keen a
sense of locality as a wild animal.
"If you are right," said Royce, "some of the men have probably ridden
to the fort to waylay us on our return. That big fellow must be one
of the Tubus."
"Him no Tubu, sah," said John decisively. "Big fella too much ugly."
As Royce had never seen a Tubu, this statement conveyed nothing to
him. Goruba's countenance was certainly of a Nubian cast. But he
felt assured that the man had some position of authority among the
raiders, and had either sent or led a party to attempt his capture.
He was much troubled in mind at the thought of leaving some of the
enemy in his rear. His only chance--a slight one at the best--of
helping Challis would be wholly destroyed if the party from the fort
came up behind him, and discovered him before he had time to go into
hiding. There was no sign of that party having already returned and
rejoined the main body. The one hope he had was that the men in
ambush at the fort, after waiting there all day, had now given up the
idea of waylaying him, and had struck into the northward route at
some point far ahead.
Less than an hour of daylight remained; it would soon be dark, and
the Tubus were not more likely than any other native tribe to
continue their journey in darkness. So Royce felt that if he escaped
notice until sunset he would be pretty safe until next morning dawned.
The sun went down, and the three men halted.
"Where are we to camp, John?" asked Royce.
The Hausa looked around. There was no shelter anywhere on the
ground, but at a little distance from the track a solitary large tree
reared itself to a height of some fifty feet.
"Dat's him, sah!" cried the man. "Sleep in tree; berry nice."
"It won't be the first time," thought Royce, remembering a certain
hot afternoon years before, when he and Challis, happy-go-lucky
schoolboys, had dozed the hours away in the fork of an elm
overlooking the cricket-field.
They sat down on the ground to eat their frugal supper. John was
quite concerned at having nothing better to offer his master than
some parched grain and a few nuts, and vigorously rated the carrier
for not bringing some of the birds Challis had shot. He wanted to
kindle a fire and give the food at least a little flavour by
roasting, but Royce would not allow it.
"We don't know how near the Tubus are," he said. "They might see the
flame, or smell the smoke. I shall do very well as it is, John."
Then they climbed the tree one after another, Royce envying the
agility with which the barefooted negroes mounted, and selected, each
for himself, a secure perch among the branches.
The two Hausas fell asleep instantly. Royce, however, found his
quarters very unpleasant. They were not in the least like the cool
elm he remembered so vividly. Mosquitoes and a thousand other small
insects buzzed about him, settling upon face and arms, some to sting,
others to bite, until he was in torture. He swung his arms about to
ward them off, and covered his face with his handkerchief, tucking it
under his helmet and into the collar of his coat. But the terrible
pests defied all his efforts to protect himself, and he gave up at
last, resigning himself to endure their torments with what patience
he was master of.
It was some time, too, before he lost his fear of toppling from his
swaying perch and crashing to the ground. The effort to secure
himself made his limbs stiff and cramped, and he looked forward to a
night of sleeplessness and pain. But sleep crept upon him unawares.
He fell into a doze, uneasy indeed, and fitful, but yet giving
blessed intervals of oblivion.
From one of these spells of slumber, Royce suddenly started to
wakefulness and a strange feeling of terror. He had not been
dreaming; by this time he was so much accustomed to the stings of the
insects as to be almost unconscious of them. Yet he was bathed in
sweat, and felt as though some fearful doom were hanging over him.
He lay panting in the crook of the branches.
What was this strange, musty odour of which he was now aware? What
was the cause of the dreadful feeling of sickness that chilled his
skin? Unable to account for his wretched state, he lay still, hoping
that the feeling would pass.
The foliage rustled above and around him; insects hummed; in the
distance he heard the wailing call of some strange night bird, the
booming note of a giant frog, the bark of a beast of prey. In these
there was nothing alarming. But his uneasiness, the sense of
impending danger, grew upon him, and at last, unable to endure the
mysterious feeling any longer, he was on the point of awakening John,
for the mere relief and pleasure of hearing a human voice, when all
at once the other man, farther from him, uttered a shriek of mortal
terror.
[Illustration: IN THE PYTHON'S TOILS]
The effect upon Royce was as startling as the shock from an electric
current. He started up, almost losing his balance. The cry had this
good result, that it enabled him to shake off the numbing horror that
had oppressed him. Groping in his pocket, he drew out a small
electric torch which he used but sparingly, because of the
impossibility of re-charging it. With the other hand he seized his
revolver.
A flash of the torch made all terribly clear. The hapless carrier
was in the toils of an immense snake. John crouched near him,
paralysed with horror. The snake was gradually tightening its hold,
and its hideous head was swaying within a few feet of its victim.
Royce snapped his revolver at the reptile's head. The shot went
wide. He fired again. This time his aim was true. For a moment the
snake convulsively tightened its coils about the inert black body,
causing the man to groan under the crushing pressure. Then the coils
relaxed, the head drooped, and in a few moments the monster dropped
with a thud upon the ground.