THE WITCH-DOCTOR
Bright and early the next day Frank and Harry were up and stirring,
and the other members of the party were not long in joining them.
The almost innumerable packing cases and chests containing the
duffle, ammunition, armament and the sections of the Golden Eagle
were scattered about the little "compound" or garden of M.
Desplaines' residence, having been brought ashore overnight by a
crew of Kroomen. M. Desplaines appeared while the boys were still
contemplating their outfit and wondering if it would be possible to
accommodate it all in the little flotilla which, it had been
arranged previously, was to take them up the river to the camping
place from which they were to strike out for the Ivory Mountain.
"I really almost envy your trip," he said, "although it will be
fraught with danger. Still you go well armed and provisioned, and
from what I have heard of you, you are not the sort of boys to let a
few obstacles upset you."
While they were still talking and waiting for breakfast to be
announced they were joined by a singular figure. It was that of a
white man in rather shabby ducks and crowned, as was M. Desplaines,
with a huge, white pith helmet. Over one shoulder he carried a
green butterfly net and under one arm he had tucked a tin box.
Round his waist was a leather belt from which hung, in addition to a
revolver and cartridges, a glass bottle with a wide stopper with a
chloroformed sponge reposing in the bottom. It did not need the
introduction of the newcomer by M. Desplaines as Professor Ajax
Wiseman, to tell the boys that Dr. Wiseman was a naturalist.
"My dear professor, what are you doing here?" exclaimed M.
Desplaines as soon as the introductions were over.
"I arrived this morning from Grand Bassam on a coasting schooner,"
replied the professor, carefully setting down his tin box. "I have
a remarkable specimen of the Gladiolus Gorgeosi in there," he
remarked importantly. "I am contemplating a trip into the interior
via the Bia River and came to you to see if you could arrange
transportation."
M. Desplaines looked at the boys.
"These young men have engaged the steam launch, to tow their
expedition up the river," he said hesitatingly; "they are going on a
hunting trip, into the interior, and have, I venture to say, one of
the most complete outfits I have ever seen."
The naturalist looked wistfully at Frank.
"I suppose there would not be the least objection to my availing
myself of your assistance in getting up the river," he said,
blinking behind his spectacles like an old bat who has unexpectedly
emerged into the sunlight. "I have only two canoes and as I carry
my own attendant I shall be no trouble."
"We shall be delighted to accommodate you," rejoined Frank heartily,
"but I shall have to place one restriction on you. When we reach
our destination we must part company as we have work to do of a
confidential nature. Our employer, Mr. Barr--"
"Old Luther Barr," burst out Professor Wiseman suddenly.
"Why, yes," rejoined Frank, rather taken aback, "you know him then?"
"I--I have heard of him," replied the other with a slight hesitancy
which was, however, so faint as to be hardly noticeable. The voice
of Madame Desplaines summoning them to breakfast broke off any
opportunity for further questions on a matter that plainly, for some
strange reason or other, seemed to have heartily interested--even
disturbed--the naturalist. Frank felt troubled for a moment at the
idea of having let Professor Wiseman form a portion of their party
even for a short distance. But he dismissed the idea almost
instantly. The queer expression that passed over Professor
Wiseman's face at the mention of the ivory trader's name might have
simply been due to astonishment at hearing it again. Still Frank
decided to keep an eye on Professor Wiseman.
The conversation at breakfast naturally enough dealt with the little
known country the boys were to penetrate. Then it was for the first
time that they heard mention of the mysterious tribe of the Flying
Men who were reported to be equipped with rudimentary wings--like
those of an undeveloped bat with which they managed to flit from
tree top to tree top like true flyers.
"Oh, come," laughed Billy, "I've heard of tailed men and white
Africans with red top-knots like Lathrop, but a race of winged men
is coming it too strong."
"Laugh if you like," declared Professor Wiseman who had brought up
the subject, "but some time ago I articulated a skeleton brought me
by an Arab slave trader and found extending from the shoulder blade
two distinct bony frames which had in life apparently been covered
with a thin fleshy substance of leathery like tenacity stretching
thence to the wrists. I asked the slave trader where he had found
the skeleton," went on the savant, "and he told me he had come
across it at the foot of a giant silk cotton tree in the Bambara
country."
The boys exchanged glances. It was to the Bambara country--the
country of the legendary Flying Men--that they were bound.
"Is any more known of this tribe?" inquired Frank.
"Very little except what you can pick up from the natives, which is
little enough," replied Professor Wiseman, "they seem to have a
dislike to speaking of the Flying Men--to whites at any rate. I
think, too, they fear them. Report has it that they live in
cave-like holes in the side of a giant, black basalt cliff reached
by a subterranean river. They reach the ground by taking short
flights from the holes they live in and regain the cliff dwellings
by means of rope ladders formed of twisted creepers."
"Then they cannot fly upward?" asked Frank.
"It would seem not," replied the naturalist, "their wings only serve
as gliders. Possibly once in the remote ages they could fly as well
as great birds but with the course of the ages and disuse their
wings have dwindled."
As may be imagined the idea that within a short time they were to
be in the country of the mysterious tribe caused a tremendous stir
among the boys and when after breakfast their strange friend of the
night before, Sikaso, appeared they at once overwhelmed him with
questions. But strangely enough Sikaso made no reply to their eager
queries.
He shook his great bead and seemed to be embarrassed, if not by fear
at any rate by reticence.
"In Misoto Mountains many strange Ju-jus (fetishes)," he said in an
awed tone, "Misoto Mountains no good for white boys--white boys stay
away."
"Not much," chimed in Harry, "that's just where we are going."
"You go Misoto Mountain," said the giant black in an astonished
tone.
"That's what we are," exclaimed Lathrop.
The black gazed at the ground and drew a small circle on the dust
with his toe. In the center of it he made a cross.
"That my dukkeri (fate)," he said slowly, "you go, Sikaso he go too.
I see it in the smoke."
"Saw it in the smoke?" repeated the amazed boys.
"In smoke of Ju-ju fire I see it written. I see five go, three come
back, in smoke too. I have spoken."
He stalked off as I suddenly as he had the night before and left the
boys to gaze in a bewildered way after his huge figure as it swung
down the road.
"That fellow's the best disappearer I ever saw," said Billy Barnes
at length.
"I wish he'd stop that stuff about 'five go three come back,"' said
Lathrop, "it gets on your nerves."
"What could he have meant by seeing it in the smoke?" asked Harry
bewilderedly.
"Just this," broke in a quiet voice behind them. It was Professor
Wiseman, who had glided up to them as silently as a cat. "It is a
common trick among the witch doctors--of whom our friend yonder
seems to be one--to divine events by means of the smoke from a fire
built to the accompaniment of special incantations."
"Well, that's cheerful," commented Billy, "but tell us, Professor,
how often do they hit it right?"
"Nine times out of ten, young man," said Professor Wiseman
impressively fixing Billy with his gaze just as he would have
impaled a bug or grasshopper, "and the tenth time they come so near
the truth as to be uncomfortable."
"I have heard of such things, but I always put them down as
impossibilities," gasped Frank.
"Just travelers' tales," said Billy.
"There are many things for the young to learn in Africa," remarked
Professor Wiseman coldly and gazing at Billy with squashing
intentness; "the young do not believe many things merely because
they are young--and foolish."
"Gee! that was a nailer for fair," said Billy afterward. "I felt as
if the Doc was running a big blue pin through me and sticking me on
a bit of cork."
That morning, as the start for the interior was not to be made till
the next day, M. Desplaines asked the boys if they would care to try
a little fishing at the foot of the famous Jumbari Falls which lay
on a branch of the Bari river a short distance from the town. Of
course the boys assented eagerly, but as it was found that only
Frank and Harry were expert canoeists, it was agreed that the others
should fish from the bank while the two young leaders trolled their
lines from a native built craft. This canoe was kept at the falls--to
which they tramped the two miles overland by a narrow trail.
The falls were a magnificent sight. From a dark red rock, fully two
hundred feet in height, a great volume of water poured its roaring
current into a boiling pool below. The cliffs shot up sheer on all
sides and were covered at the bottom with luxuriant green growth
like seaweed, while higher up, ferns, as big as rose-bushes at home,
and trees of a hundred varieties clung wherever they could find a
root-hold. As the party arrived at the top of the ravine and gazed
down, the uproar of the water was so terrific as to render any
speech inaudible. M. Desplaines, who led the party, pointed to a
hole in the rocks and a second later vanished into it.
At first, consternation seized on the boys who thought that an
accident had happened, but seeing not hearing Professor Wiseman's
reassuring laugh and noticing him plunge after M. Desplaines, the
boys rightly concluded that the aperture was a subterranean entrance
to the foot of the falls. And so it proved. A steep flight of
steps was cut in a deep cleft of the cliff down to the water's edge.
A few minutes after they had begun the descent, the little party stood
on the brink of the whirling pool into which the mighty falls roared
their thousands of tons of water. Following M. Desplaines, they
advanced down the stream to a point where a bend shut off like a
rock curtain the deafening uproar of the cascade. Here a canoe lay
moored and Frank and Harry stepped into it and shoved off. Their
lines and other equipment they had in their pockets.
As they shoved out M. Desplaines shouted something that they did not
catch and pointed down the stream. How near the fact that they
could not hear his words was to come to costing them their lives
neither of the boys guessed.