WE DISCOVER HUMAN FOOT-PRINTS.—WE SPY OUT THE ENEMY.—A FEMALE
GORILLA.—MATERNAL FONDNESS.
One morning, just at daylight, Querlaouen and I, without saying a word
to Gambo and Malaouen, scaled our palisade with the ladder and went to
look after the traps we had made for the monkeys, in order to see if we
had caught some more.
We were going silently into the forest, and as noiselessly as we could,
in the hope of seeing an antelope or wild boar, or some other kind of
wild animal on our way. At last we reached the banks of a little stream,
situated, as I judged, about six or seven miles from our camp, when lo!
Malaouen and I saw what threw us into a great state of excitement.
Human foot-prints!
Yes, there was no mistake about it; there were eight foot-prints in the
mud on the banks of the creek, and these were the marks of four men who
had been there. They were fresh tracks.
Who were they?
Were they warlike Bakalais of the Ashankolo country? Were they enemies
or friends?
[Sidenote: _WE DISCOVER FOOT-PRINTS._]
Querlaouen and I looked in each other’s face without saying a word, and
by instinct both of us looked most carefully at our guns, and we began
to mistrust every tree around us, for some one might be hiding behind
them, and getting ready to send a bearded spear through us.
[Illustration: WE DISCOVER FOOT-PRINTS.]
We did not like at all the idea of people being in our hunting-ground,
but we liked still less the idea that these people might be our enemies.
My pair of revolvers were in good order, and I do not know why, but I
always felt very strong and reckless when I had them with the belt
holding them round my waist, and that very morning I felt confident and
secure.
After consultation, we concluded that we would follow the foot-prints to
the point they had come from, which we did, and at last reached a spot
where we saw a small canoe tied to a tree. This canoe certainly did not
belong to any people we knew, and consequently must come from some far
village situated on the very head-waters of the Ovenga River, and
belonged no doubt to those savage and warlike Bakalai inhabiting that
wild mountainous region.
Our great object was to prevent them from following our tracks, and thus
finding our camp. What was to be done?
Our foot-prints were mixed with theirs, and my shoes had left
unmistakable marks of their heels and soles, and I wondered what those
fellows would think in seeing them. My only hope was that they would be
seized with terror, and that in those marks they might see the tokens of
a mighty spirit.
Close by, entering into that creek, there was a beautiful little rivulet
of clear water, whose pebbly bed suggested to me that we had better
follow its course, and then make a short cut and find our way the best
we could.
Another idea occurred to me that Querlaouen and I had better ascend some
tree not far off, and wait and see really who these men were.
[Sidenote: _WHAT WE SAW._]
So we ascended the pebbly stream, leaving no marks behind us, and then
made for the forest again, and proceeded almost to the spot where the
canoe was. Not far from there were two short trees, the thick foliage of
which would shelter us from any ordinary gaze, and whose heavy limbs
would afford us comfortable rest. These two trees were very close
together. Querlaouen ascended one, and I ascended the other by the help
of the lianas and creepers which hung from their branches to the ground.
Our guns were slung on our backs. We never uttered a word, but fixed
ourselves as comfortably as we could, and in such manner that we could
fire at our enemies if attacked. Malaouen looked at his gun. I did the
same, and then petted my two revolvers, as if to say, You, boys, are the
good fellows for a true fight.
We were as silent as two statues, waiting patiently for something to
turn up.
At last we thought we heard voices in the far distance, which we had at
first taken for the chatter of monkeys. The noise came nearer and
nearer, and we finally distinguished the sound of human voices.
I got so excited that I could hardly breathe, and every beat of my heart
became very distinct.
At last we saw four stalwart fellows, tattooed all over, covered with
hunting and war fetiches, armed to the teeth with spears, and two of
them carried Ashinga nets, with which they had been hunting on a small
scale, and had with them one gazelle (a ncheri).
Suddenly coming to their canoe, they saw Querlaouen’s foot-prints, which
threw them into a great state of excitement, when one of them pointed to
the other, my foot-prints, saying, “What are those marks? they must be
the marks of a spirit!” They looked at them, and suddenly an
uncontrollable panic seized the four, and they rushed for their canoe,
seized their paddles, and went down the stream with the utmost
precipitation, as if fire and brimstone were after them.
In the wink of an eye they were out of sight, and Querlaouen and I came
down from our trees. We had not been mistaken. The fellows were Bakalai
of the Ashankola country.
It was late in the day, and there was no hope of our reaching our
fortified camp before dark. We moved toward it, and at sundown we
collected fire-wood, lighted three tremendous piles of it, and soon had
splendid fires, cooked the three plantains each of us had for our
dinner, and after our meal Malaouen and I had a grand chat.
Querlaouen is a splendid fellow. I love him dearly, and we are sworn
friends. I feel that if any one should try to injure or kill him I
should fight to the death for him. He is so brave, he is so
kind-hearted, such a noble specimen of a savage as we seldom see! I wish
I could have only been able to root out of him his belief in witchcraft
and fetiches.
Querlaouen then told me his history.
“Chaillee,” said he, “my father belonged to a clan which lived in the
Ashankolo Mountains, and in his younger days had crossed a large river,
called the Ngouyai. He was the chief of a village, and a great warrior.
In the country where we lived there was nothing but fighting and
fighting; village was against village, and often brother against
brother; not a day passed that some one was not killed. You know our
mode of warfare; we kill any one, old man, woman, or babe—we have no
mercy. One night my father’s village was attacked. We fought and fought,
and at last repulsed the enemy, who fled in dismay. My father was
killed, two sisters of mine were killed, also several other people of
the village. Then we moved toward the banks of the Ovenga; we soon came
down the stream, and now I have grown a man, and live where my village
is. I only wish you would live all the time among us. We should take
such care of you.”
[Sidenote: _A FEMALE GORILLA._]
After fixing our fires we went to sleep, and early the next morning we
made for our camp. We had hardly gone two miles into the woods, when lo!
I heard a kind of chuckle which told me that a gorilla was not far off.
The sound came from a densely-wooded and dark ravine, and from the very
bottom of it. When we reached the place we found it to be one of those
ugly bogs where you go knee deep into the mud, walking on the roots of
trees, and sometimes get stuck fast in this position.
The gorilla was right in the midst of the bog; it was a female, and at
every moment we expected to see a large male standing before us, roaring
like a demon, and asking us what we came to do in this dark recess of
the forest, where it had made its abode with his wife, and perhaps his
baby gorilla.
How carefully we looked at our guns! how watchful our eyes were! We were
not to be easily surprised. The bog was like one of the worst kind we
have in America in the overflowed and woody land of the Western country;
only here we have creepers, thorny bushes, and hanging lianas, and grass
that cuts like a razor.
We entered the swamp, and went nearer and nearer the sound we had heard
first, and came to a dry spot, when lo! we spied a female gorilla and
her young baby. The baby was very small, a very dear little baby it was
to its mother, for she appeared with her extremely black face, to look
at it with great fondness. I was disarmed; I could not possibly fire. I
seemed spell-bound, and could not raise my gun to fire. Yes, there was
something too human in that female and her offspring; it hung by her
breast, but, unlike our babies, who have to be entirely supported, its
little hands clutched its mother’s shoulders and helped it to support
itself. The little fellow gave a shrill and plaintive cry, and crawled
from its mother’s arms to her breast to be fed, and the mother lowered
her head and looked at her offspring, and with his little fingers he
pressed and pressed her breast, so that the milk could come more freely.
On a sudden the mother gave a tremendous cry, and before I knew it she
had disappeared through the forest.
I would not have missed this scene for a great deal, and I wish that you
had all been with me to see it, for I know that perhaps such scenes may
never be seen again by a civilized man; I knew that it had never been
seen before. The gorilla will one day disappear. A day will come when he
who writes these pages will have been long dead and forgotten, but
perhaps the record of what he has seen may, like the record of Hanno,
fall into the hands of some one, and it will be read like a strange
tale.
I have brought away, altogether, thirty-one gorilla skins and skeletons;
I have captured more than a dozen live gorillas, young ones, of course,
and, altogether, I must have seen at different times during my twelve
years’ explorations more than three hundred of them.
[Illustration: [Fleuron]]