THE SMOKE READER
And now we must leave the floating canoe with its occupants and turn
to the River Camp, where we left the Boy Aviators overcome with
anxiety as to the fate of their young comrades. The situation was
indeed one calculated to try the stoutest heart. There was only one
drop of sweet in their cup of bitter.
Harry, poking about among the ruins of the deserted camp, had
discovered several cans of gasoline that the raiders had overlooked.
They formed sufficient fuel with the picric cakes that Frank still
had a supply of, to drive the big aeroplane for several hundred
miles if the wind conditions were favorable.
But leave the river camp the boys dare not, for they realized that
if Billy and Lathrop did manage to make their escape, they would, if
possible, come back there. True, it was a chance so remote as to
appear almost impossible, but under the circumstances even the
shadow of a hope seemed to assume substance. And so they waited,
and had been waiting, while the stirring events we have related had
been happening to their missing chums.
As if to add to their oppression, old Sikaso mooned about the camp,
his eyes rooted to the ground in moody absorption and muttering to
himself, "five go--three come back," till Frank angrily ordered him
to stop. The realization that his gloomy prophecy seemed only too
likely to be fulfilled, however, did not tend to relieve the
situation.
"If we do not hear from them to-morrow, we shall be compelled to
take to the air and fly to the coast," said Frank as they sat that
evening round a camp-fire which had been lighted to keep away
marauding lions, whose roars ever and anon shook the forest. At
such times old Sikaso's eyes wandered longingly to his great
war-axe. There is little doubt that he would have liked to work off
his gloomy feelings by tackling a lion single-handed with his
weapon.
"You think, then, it isn't worth while waiting if we have heard no
news by then?" asked Harry.
"It isn't that," said Frank in reply, "but we have not provisions
left to more than tide us over another day. What the Arabs didn't
destroy they spoiled."
Harry nodded his head silently.
Cruel necessity, it seemed, was to compel them to evacuate the camp,
to which they still clung in the hope the lost adventurers might
return.
It was in vain Ben Stubbs cracked his jokes that night and related
all sorts of droll sea yarns in the hope of cheering up his young
companions. For the first time since he had known them it looked as
if the Boy Aviators had really lost all hope, and truly the facts
seemed to warrant the stoutest-heart in the world being downcast--to
say the least.
Suddenly without a word old Sikaso left the fire and strode off into
the forest. He was gone for more than an hour and when he came back
his look of gloom had vanished. For him he was almost cheerful.
He swung his terrible axe in all sorts of fantastic evolutions and
hummed to himself his grim chant with a fierce sort of joy.
"White boys, the smoke is going to tell me things to-night," he
exclaimed suddenly. "When the moon reaches to the top of the sky I
shall tell you news of the four-eyed one and of the red-headed."
Impatiently they waited till the moon reached her zenith and then
watched wonderingly while the old savage built a small fire of
sticks, over each one of which he mumbled something in African.
"What good does he suppose all this hocus-pocus is going to do us?"
muttered Harry irritably, "as if an old fire could tell us anything
we didn't know already. It's all rubbish, I say."
"I'm not so sure," remarked Frank thoughtfully. "We have already
seen something of what his skill can do and I don't mind letting him
see if he can't conjure up something to give us a ray of hope."
"Oh bosh, Frank," replied Harry, "if he ever did get anything right
through this rigmarole and hanky-panky it was simply because he had
good luck. That's all."
"For my part, I've knocked around the world too much to be so cock
sure of some things as some young chaps seem to be," put in Ben
Stubbs, with a chuckle, looking up from the frying-pan that he was
scouring with sand.
Harry looked abashed and said nothing.
If old Sikaso had heard any of this colloquy he made no sign, but
with the face of a graven image went about his preparations. Slowly
he struck the sparks from his never-failing flint and steel, and a
few seconds later the little fire was sending up a blaze.
"Do you see anything?" asked Frank.
"Too soon now, wait till smoke come," he said, and resumed his
intense watching of the fire.
After a delay that seemed maddening, to two at least of the group
that was watching, the old Krooman announced that all was ready.
Even Harry felt a thrill of interest as the old man began to spin
slowly on his toes round the column of smoke, chanting slowly some
strange mixture of savage music which was, as Frank guessed, an
incantation to the fetish that, as he believed, dwelt in the smoke.
As the smoke grew thicker he cast some sort of powder from a
skin-bag into it and instantly a thick yellow column of vapor shot
up.
The whole forest about seemed impregnated with the strong odor of
the stuff and the boys' eyes smarted. Old Sikaso kept up his dance,
bending lower and lower till it seemed that he must be actually
inhaling the pungent, acrid smoke.
As this strange scene progressed, Frank felt his eyes begin to grow
dim and an unaccountable languor fill his limbs. His head swam
round and he desired nothing so much as to lie down and sleep---and
yet a compelling power forced him to keep his eyes fixed on the
column of smoke over which the aged Krooman was now stooping with
outspread hands.
Suddenly he gave a sharp cry--an exclamation almost of command.
"Look--look, white boys, and you, old man of the sea and the forests
of the far-off land, and I shall show you the magic of the sleeping
heart of Africa."
With eyes that started from his head Frank gazed, in obedience to a
majestic sweep of the African's hand, full into the ascending column
of yellowish smoke.
The languor the boy had felt at first had now quite left him and he
was only intent on seeing what was about to transpire.
Sikaso's voice once more rose in his dismal chant and he cast more
of the powder from his skin-bag into the fire. The smoke pillar
grew to an immense size and, as he gazed at it, before Frank's
amazed eyes a scene as strange to him as any he had ever set eyes
on, began slowly to take shape.
There was a river edge with mighty banks at the summit of which
waved fronds of tropical plants and in which huge beasts, that he
recognized as hippopotami, wallowed and sputtered. An unhealthy
steam arose from the banks and the river boiled angrily along
between its confines in a dark mud-colored flood.
So far the scene was not unlike the river in which he and Harry had
so nearly lost their lives, but as he gazed the details grew
clearer, as if it had been a magic lantern view, growing by degrees
stronger and every outline of the tropical view was suddenly thrown
into strong relief.
All at once the boy uttered a sharp cry, which was echoed by his
brother and Ben. Old Sikaso never moved a muscle but kept on
chanting.
Into the center of the wonderful smoke picture there had swum a
canoe.
And in it were seated Billy Barnes and Lathrop!
With them, too, was the figure of a venerable white bearded man who
seemed to be about to collapse. From time to time he raised himself
feebly and gazed ahead. Frank could see Billy at such times stoop
forward and speak to him.
The boys' plight was evidently a terrible one.
Their clothes were ripped and torn and Billy's shirt scarcely
covered his body; which was a mass of cuts and scratches. A great
cloud of mosquitoes hung about the canoe, clearly maddening its
occupants with their myriads of tiny stings. The faces of both the
young navigators were drawn and lined with anxiety as they paddled
ahead in the turbulent current.
"See," cried Sikaso harshly, as the picture faded, "do the white
boys still doubt?"
"No, no!" cried Harry. "Show us more, Sikaso."
The Krooman cast more of the magic powder into the dying fire and
again a thick pillar of smoke curled upward.
His low crooning chant then began once more.
As before the picture did not assume shape at once but swam, as it
were, slowly into view. This time the surroundings had changed.
There was a look of agonized terror on the faces of all the
occupants of the canoe as she seemed to be literally hurled forward
upon a current that ran as swiftly as a mill race.
The frail craft rocked terribly and once or twice she shipped some
water that Lathrop instantly bailed out with a shallow earthen dish.
Frank could almost hear the roar of the water as he gazed in silent
fascination on the mysterious pictures of the smoke.
And now the apprehension on the faces of the occupants of the canoe
was agonizing to watch. Once Frank saw the old man arise as if to
cast himself into the water rather than face what lay ahead, but
Lathrop instantly drew him back.
Again the picture died out and again the old Krooman threw on more
powder. As the smoke rolled up once more no one spoke. The
situation was far too tense for that.
The scene now seemed to show that indeed all was over with the
occupants of the canoe. The frail craft was seen to be in a tunnel
of rough stone through which the roaring vortex of the waters poured
with such violence that the boys and their aged companion were
continually drenched with spray. Lathrop had hard work to keep the
craft free of water now, and bailed incessantly. The old man was on
his knees his hands clasped and his lips moving as if in prayer.
Billy, his face set, sat in the stern. Again and again with a quick
twist of his paddle he saved the canoe from annihilation in the
boiling current.
It was an agonizing scene to watch, and to the onlookers it seemed
as real as if they had been gazing at the peril itself instead of
its counterfeit presentment in smoke-pictures.
At last the walls of the tunnel were seen to widen out and the
current to move more slowly. Frank gave a sigh of relief which was
echoed by the others as the canoe emerged from the subterranean
river into a broad lagoon with low banks covered with tropical
verdure and seemingly, from the absence of steaming vapors a healthy
spot. But even as the canoe entered the quiet waters a great body
projected itself through the water followed by three other bulky
forms.
They were recognized instantly by the watchers as hippopotami.
The leader of the animals made straight for the canoe, and the
watchers trembled as they looked, for it was evident that one snap
of the creatures' huge jaws would cave in the side of the canoe as
if it were an eggshell.
With trembling excitement the Boy Aviators saw their young
companions with both paddles make desperately for the shore, but
before they reached it one of the hippopotami intercepted them, and
with a charge of angry fury literally tossed the boat clean out of
the water.
A second later the gazers at the smoke pictures saw the two missing
adventurers and their aged unknown companion struggling in the
water. It seemed that all was over when a strange interruption
occurred.
A long, dark horny head with two cruel eyes and rows of saw-like
teeth in its long jaws, sped through the waters. The hippopotamus
turned savagely on the intruder and the two snapped savagely at each
other for several minutes when the crocodile, mortally wounded to
judge by the red swirl on the surface of the stream, made off.
But Billy and Lathrop were seen to have taken advantage of the brief
breathing spell it gave them. In a few strong strokes they had swum
with the aged man to shallow water and quickly waded ashore. They
were safe then for the time being. But for how long?
Frank saw the two comrades gaze about them in despair at the
wilderness of jungle that closed about them on every side. He saw
them cast horrified looks at each other at the situation in which
they found themselves--lost in the trackless African forests.
The next minute the old man fell forward on his face and lay still.
Whether he was dead or unconscious, Frank could not, of course,
tell--and then the smoke died out, and the picture faded.