"Well, Nanungamanoo, my good fellow, it won't do to get in front of him.
He would soon find our trail."
"Yes, sahib, and kill us with fire."
"Would he now? That would not be pleasant, Nanungamanoo. By the way,
Nanungamanoo, what an awful name you have! Excuse me, Nanungamanoo, but
we must really try to find you a shorter. Do you understand, Mr
Nanungamanoo? We'll boil that name of yours down, or extract the
essence of it and let you have that. But touching this pretty priest,
this amiable individual, who hesitates not to buy poor slaves for rum,
although he is far too good to fight for them. He'll be along this way
in a day or two. Now I greatly object to be hurried, especially when I
am out upon a little pleasure trip like the present--ha! ha! I don't
think for a moment that either an Arab or any of you Somali fellows are
half so clever at picking up a trail as your genuine North American
backwoods Indian; but then, you know, even an Arab or a Somali couldn't
go past the mark of an old camp-fire without smelling a rat. Do you
understand, Mr Nanungamanoo?--bother your name, it's a regular
twice-round the clock business!"
"I understand," replied Nanungamanoo, "much that you say even in
English."
"Well, Mr Nanungamanoo, if you behave yourself and are long with me,
I'll put you to school and teach you myself--good English. But,"
continued Harry, "we must have this angelic Mahmoud on ahead of us. So
if you can find a place to hide, we will let him pass and give him a
fair start. For, as you say that you know this route well, and no
other, we must be content to keep it for some time to come at all
events."
"Yes, sahib; and I know the place to hide. Come."
"I'll follow as fast as you like, Mr Nanungamanoo. But, first and
foremost, just let us see what you have in that bundle of yours--to eat,
I mean. I haven't really felt so genuinely hungry since I was taken
prisoner. My eyes! Nanungamanoo, what a size your bundle is! You seem
to have looted the whole camp."
The Somali laid down the burden and prepared to open it. It was wrapped
in a kind of coarse blue-striped cloth, much admired by certain tribes
of savages.
They had reached a patch of high clearing in the jungle, the moon was
shining very brightly, so, although there were lions about, there was
very little fear of an attack, these gentry much preferring to catch
their foes unawares and by daylight.
The Somali undid his bundle precisely like a packman of olden times,
showing off the wares he had for sale.
"This is the food," he said.
"What! dry rice? Why, my good fellow, I'm not a fowl."
"Fowl--yes, yes," cried Nanungamanoo, the first words he had spoken in
English. "Here is fowl and rice curry."
"Ha! glorious!" cried Harry. "Capitally cooked too, done to a turn,
tastes delicious. Have a bit yourself, old man. No doubt Mahmoud had
intended this for his own little breakfast. I feel double the
individual now, Nanungamanoo," said Harry, after he had done ample
justice to the viands of his late lord and master, "double the
individual. Now suppose we proceed to investigate still further the
contents of your mysterious pack? That's the ammunition, is it? A
goodly lot too! But what is in that other pack? There are wheels
within wheels, and packs within packs, my clever Nanungamanoo. You are
afraid to touch it--to open it. Give it to me, I will."
So saying he quickly undid the lashing.
"Why," he continued in astonishment, as he lifted the things up one by
one, "my own best uniform jacket--two pairs of white duck pants--my
Sunday-go-meeting pairs--one--two--three--four flannel shirts, my best
ones too--a pair of canvas shoes--a packet of new uniform buttons, and a
yard of gold lace--three cakes of eating chocolate, and a box of cough
drops that old Yonitch gave me as a parting gift. Why, Nanungamanoo, as
sure as we're squatting here, and the moon shining down over us both,
that old thief has been and gone and robbed my sea-chest! I see his
little game, Nanungamanoo: he was taking these things of mine away into
the interior to that happy hunting-ground of his, to swop them away
along with myself to the drunken old king for slaves. Yes, and they
would have stripped me of the uniform I now wear, and given me an old
cow's hide instead with the horns stuck over my brow and the tail
hanging down behind. Oh! Mr Mahmoud, but I have spoiled your fun.
But there they are, goodness be praised, and I must not be too hard on
old Mahmie after all, for he did save my life."
Nanungamanoo laughed a sneering laugh.
"You were too valuable to burn," he said.
"Do you really suppose then, my worthy Nanungamanoo, that Mahmoud looked
upon the matter as a commercial transaction?"
"Now you speak Hindustanee. I do not know."
"Never mind, make up the bundle again, and let us trudge. From the
position of the moon it must be getting on towards morning."
Nanungamanoo held up three fingers and proceeded with his work.
"Three o'clock, is it? Well, heave round, let us up anchor and be off."
After re-establishing his valuable pack, Nanungamanoo carefully
collected the bones of the feast and threw them under a bush, and was
proceeding to obliterate the marks they had made on the withered grass
by raising it again with his foot, when a twig cracked in a neighbouring
thicket. Both Harry and Nanungamanoo speedily clutched their rifles.
Almost immediately after a black and nearly naked figure emerged slowly
into the moonlight, and stood at some little distance, holding up one
arm across his face as if to protect it from the blow of the bullet
Nanungamanoo would have fired, but Harry thrust his arm up.
Then Raggy Muffin advanced.
"Golla-mussy, massa! What for you want to shoot poor Raggy?"
"But, Raggy," cried Harry, "in the name of mystery how came you here?"
"I came, massa, to cut your cords ob bondage, all same as de little
mouse cut de cords ob de great big lion."
"But where did you come from, Raggy? Sit down, poor boy, your cheeks
are thin, sit down and pick a bone."
"No, no, massa, not here, not here. Dey am all alive in Mahmoud's camp,
I can 'ssure you ob dat."
"You came through there?"
"I came to cut your cords ob bondage, massa."
"Well?"
"Well, den I see dat de bird hab flown."
"Yes, Raggy."
"Den I pick up ebery ting I see lying about handy, massa. Den I follow
your trail."
"Ha! ha! ha! So you've been looting too, have you? Well, Raggy, get
your parcel and let us be off. Lead on, Nanungamanoo."
"La! massa," said Raggy, grinning all over, "suppose I hab one long name
like dat nigger, I cut it all up into leetle pieces, and hab one for
ebery day in de week."
The march was now recommenced.
The Somali trode gingerly on ahead, picking his way through the flowery
sward, as if afraid to leave the slightest trail.
Harry and Raggy came up behind.
It was evident the Somali was now making a _detour_; at all events they
shortly found themselves at the river, which was here broad and shallow.
This they forded, taking care to keep their packs and rifles dry.
Into a weird-looking bit of forest they now plunged.
A weird-looking forest indeed. Every tree seemed an ogre in the
moonlight. Yet the air was heavily odorous with the sweet breath of
some species of mimosa bloom, and the ground was for the most part free
from undergrowth.
The forest grew darker and darker as they proceeded, and they could hear
a lion growl in the distance. He was far away, yet Harry clutched his
rifle and drew little Raggy close up to his side.
He was not sorry when the moonlight shone down on them once more through
the branches of a baobab tree. Here they stopped to breathe.
On again, and now the way began to ascend, still in the forest, and
still comparatively in the gloom.
Up and up and up they went. It was quite a mountain for this district.
At last the trees and then the bushes deserted them; then they were on
the bluff, and Harry turned round to look.
Why, away down yonder--close under them it appeared--they could see the
blazing camp-fire of Mahmoud's caravan.
"Are we not too near, Nanungamanoo?"
"No. They will not stir till daylight Arabs are not brave at night.
When they do start they will go towards the sun. We will wait and watch
and see."
And so it fell out, for no sooner had the clouds begun to turn bright
yellow and crimson than the stir commenced in the camp.
Somalis ran hither and thither, it is true.
The babel of voices was terrible.
Mahmoud himself was here, there, and everywhere, and the whacks he
freely dealt his soldiers with a bamboo cane were audible even to our
friends on the hill-top. But when all was said and done, the caravan
started back towards the coast, and in a few minutes there was silence
all over the beautiful landscape.
Book 3--CHAPTER FOUR.