The ears of man are dull. Even on the open veldt they do not record the
sound of a shot at any great distance. But the ears of hunting beasts
are not as the ears of man; so hunting beasts at great distances paused
when they heard the rifle fire that had startled O'Grady and White.
Most of them slunk farther away from the dread sound.
Not so two lying in the shade of a tree. One was a great black-maned
golden lion; the other was a man. He lay upon his back, and the lion
lay beside him with one huge paw upon his chest.
"Tarmangani!" murmured the man.
A low growl rumbled in the cavernous chest of the carnivore.
"I shall have to look into this matter," said the man, "perhaps
tonight, perhaps tomorrow." He closed his eyes and fell asleep again,
the sleep from which the shots had aroused him.
The lion blinked his yellow-green eyes and yawned; then he lowered his
great head, and he too slept.
Near them lay the partially devoured carcass of a zebra, the kill that
they had made at dawn. Neither Ungo, the jackal, nor Dango, the hyena,
had as yet scented the feast; so quiet prevailed, broken only by the
buzzing of insects and the occasional call of a bird.
Before Major White reached the head of the column the firing had
ceased, and when he arrived he found the askaris and the white men
crouching behind trees gazing into the dark forest before them, their
rifles ready. Two black soldiers lay upon the ground, their bodies
pierced by arrows. Already their forms were convulsed by the last
throes of dissolution. Naomi Madison crouched upon the floor of her
car. Rhonda Terry stood with one foot on the running board, a pistol in
her hand.
White ran to Orman who stood with rifle in hand peering into the
forest. "What happened, Mr. Orman?" he asked.
"An ambush," replied Orman. "The devils just fired a volley of arrows
at us and then beat it. We scarcely caught a glimpse of them."
"The Bansutos," said White.
Orman nodded. "I suppose so. They think they can frighten me with a few
arrows, but I'll show the dirty niggers."
"This was just a warning, Orman. They don't want us in their country."
"I don't care what they want; I'm going in. They can't bluff me."
"Don't forget, Mr. Orman, that you have a lot of people here for whose
lives you are responsible, including two white women, and that you were
warned not to come through the Bansuto country."
"I'll get my people through all right; the responsibility is mine, not
yours." Orman's tone was sullen, his manner that of a man who knows
that he is wrong but is constrained by stubbornness from admitting it.
"I cannot but feel a certain responsibility myself," replied White.
"You know I was sent with you in an advisory capacity."
"I'll ask for your advice when I want it."
"You need it now. You know nothing about these people or what to expect
from them."
"The fact that we were ready and sent a volley into them the moment
that they attacked has taught 'em a good lesson," blustered Orman. "You
can be sure they won't bother us again."
"I wish that I could be sure of that, but I can't. We haven't seen the
last of those beggars. What you have seen is just a sample of their
regular strategy of warfare. They'll never attack in force or in the
open--just pick us off two or three at a time; and perhaps we'll never
see one of them."
"Well, if you're afraid, go back," snapped Orman. "I'll give you
porters and a guard."
White smiled. "I'll remain with the company, of course." Then he turned
back to where Rhonda Terry still stood, a trifle pale, her pistol ready
in her hand.
"You'd best remain in the car, Miss Terry," he said. "It will afford
you some protection from arrows. You shouldn't expose yourself as you
have."
"I couldn't help but overhear what you said to Mr. Orman," said the
girl. "Do you really think they will keep on picking us off like this?"
"I am afraid so; it is the way they fight. I don't wish to frighten you
unnecessarily, but you must be careful."
She glanced at the two bodies that lay quiet now in the grotesque and
horrible postures of death. "I had no idea that arrows could kill so
quickly." A little shudder accompanied her words.
"They were poisoned," explained the major.
"Poisoned!" There was a world of horror in the single word.
White glanced into the tonneau of the car. "I think Miss Madison has
fainted," he said.
"She would!" exclaimed Rhonda, turning toward the unconscious girl.
Together they lifted her to the seat, and Rhonda applied restoratives;
and, as they worked, Orman was organizing a stronger advance guard and
giving orders to the white men clustered about him.
"Keep your rifles ready beside you all the time. I'll try to put an
extra armed man on every truck. Keep your eyes open, and at the first
sight of anything suspicious, shoot.
"Bill, you and Baine ride with the girls; I'll put an askari on each
running board of their car. Clarence, you go to the rear of the column
and tell Pat what has happened. Tell him to strengthen the rear guard,
and you stay back there and help him.
"And Major White!" The Englishman came forward. "I wish you'd see old
el-Ghrennem and ask him to send half his force to the rear and the
other half up with us. We can use 'em to send messages up and down the
column, if necessary.
"Mr. Marcus," he turned to the old character man, "you and Obroski ride
near the middle of the column." He looked about him suddenly. "Where is
Obroski?"
No one had seen him since the attack. "He was in the car when I left
it," said Marcus. "Perchance he has fallen asleep again." There was a
sly twinkle in the old eyes.
"Here he comes now," said Clarence Noice.
A tall, handsome youth with a shock of black hair was approaching from
down the line of cars. He wore a six-shooter strapped about his hips
and carried a rifle. When he saw them looking toward him he commenced
to run in their direction.
"Where are they?" he called. "Where did they go?"
"Where you been?" demanded Orman.
"I been looking for them. I thought they were back there."
Bill West turned toward Gordon Z. Marcus and winked a slow wink.
Presently the column moved forward again. Orman was with the advance
guard, the most dangerous post; and White remained with him.
Like a great snake the safari wound its way into the forest, the
creaking of springs, the sound of the tires, the muffled exhausts its
only accompaniment. There was no conversation--only tense, fearful
expectancy.
There were many stops while a crew of blacks with knives and axes
hewed a passage for the great trucks. Then on again into the shadows
of the primitive wilderness. Their progress was slow, monotonous,
heartbreaking.
At last they came to a river. "We'll camp here," said Orman.
White nodded. To him had been delegated the duty of making and
breaking camp. In a quiet voice he directed the parking of the cars and
trucks as they moved slowly into the little clearing along the river
bank.
As he was thus engaged, those who had been passengers climbed to the
ground and stretched their legs. Orman sat on the running board of a
car and took a drink of Scotch. Naomi Madison sat down beside him and
lighted a cigarette. She darted fearful glances into the forest around
them and across the river into the still more mysterious wood beyond.
"I wish we were out of here, Tom," she said. "Let's go back before
we're all killed."
"That ain't what I was sent out here for. I was sent to make a picture,
and I'm goin' to make it in spite of hell and high water."
She moved closer and leaned her lithe body against him. "Aw, Tom, if
you loved me you'd take me out of here. I'm scared. I know I'm going to
die. If it isn't fever it'll be those poisoned arrows."
"Go tell your troubles to your Lion Man," growled Orman, taking another
drink.
"Don't be an old meany, Tom. You know I don't care anything about him.
There isn't any one but you."
"Yes, I know it--except when you think I'm not looking. You don't think
I'm blind, do you?"
"You may not be blind, but you're all wet," she snapped angrily. "I--"
A shot from the rear of the column halted her in mid-speech. Then came
another and another in quick succession, followed by a fusillade.
Orman leaped to his feet. Men started to run toward the rear. He called
them back. "Stay here!" he cried. "They may attack here, too--if that's
who it is back again. Major White! Tell the sheik to send a horseman
back there pronto to see what's happened."
Naomi Madison fainted. No one paid any attention to her. They left her
lying where she had fallen. The black askaris and the white men of the
company stood with rifles in tense fingers, straining their eyes into
the woods about them.
The firing at the rear ceased as suddenly as it had begun. The ensuing
silence seemed a thing of substance. It was broken by a weird,
blood-curdling scream from the dark wood on the opposite bank of the
river.
"Gad!" exclaimed Baine. "What was that?"
"I think the bounders are just trying to frighten us," said White.
"Insofar as I am concerned they have succeeded admirably,"
admitted Marcus. "If one could be scared out of seven years growth
retroactively, I would soon be a child again."
Bill West threw a protective arm about Rhonda Terry. "Lie down and roll
under the car," he said. "You'll be safe from arrows there."
"And get grease in my eyes? No, thanks."
"Here comes the sheik's man now," said Baine. "There's somebody behind
him on the horse--a white man."
"It's Clarence," said West.
As the Arab reined his pony in near Orman, Noice slipped to the ground.
"Well, what was it?" demanded the director.
"Same thing that happened up in front back there," replied Noice.
"There was a volley of arrows without any warning, two men killed;
then we turned and fired; but we didn't see any one, not a soul. It's
uncanny. Say, those blacks of ours are all shot. Can't see anything but
the whites of their eyes, and they're shaking so their teeth rattle."
"Is Pat hurryin' the rest of the safari into camp?" asked Orman.
Noice grinned. "They don't need any hurryin'. They're comin' so fast
that they'll probably go right through without seein' it."
A scream burst in their midst, so close to them that even the stolid
Major White jumped. All wheeled about with rifles ready.
Naomi Madison had raised herself to a sitting position. Her hair was
dishevelled, her eyes wild. She screamed a second time and then fainted
again.
"Shut up!" yelled Orman, frantically, his nerves on edge; but she did
not hear him.
"If you'll have our tent set up, I'll get her to bed," suggested Rhonda.
Cars, horsemen, black men afoot were crowding into the clearing. No one
wished to be left back there in the forest. All was confusion.
Major White, with the assistance of Bill West, tried to restore order
from chaos; and when Pat O'Grady came in, he helped.
At last camp was made. Blacks, whites, and horses were crowded close
together, the blacks on one side, the whites on the other.
"If the wind changes," remarked Rhonda Terry, "we're sunk."
"What a mess," groaned Baine, "and I thought this was going to be a
lovely outing. I was so afraid I wasn't going to get the part that I
was almost sick."
"Now you're sick because you did get it."
"I'll tell the world I am."
"You're goin' to be a whole lot sicker before we get out of this
Bansuto country," remarked Bill West.
"You're telling me!"
"How's the Madison, Rhonda?" inquired West.
The girl shrugged. "If she wasn't so darned scared she wouldn't be in
such a bad way. That last touch of fever's about passed, but she just
lies there and shakes--scared stiff."
"You're a wonder, Rhonda. You don't seem to be afraid of anything."
"Well, I'll be seein' yuh," remarked Baine as he walked toward his own
tent.
"Afraid!" exclaimed the girl. "Bill, I never knew what it was to be
afraid before. Why, I've got goose-pimples inside."
West shook his head. "You're sure a game kid. No one would ever know
you were afraid--you don't show it."
"Perhaps I've just enough brains to know that it wouldn't get me
anything. It doesn't even get her sympathy." She nodded her head toward
the tent.
West grimaced. "She's a--" he hesitated, searching for adequate
invective.
The girl placed her fingers against his lips and shook her head. "Don't
say it," she admonished. "She can't help it. I'm really sorry for her."
"You're a wonder! And she treats you like scum. Gee, kid, but you've
got a great disposition. I don't see how you can be decent to her. It's
that dog-gone patronizing air of hers toward you that gets my nanny.
The great artiste! Why, you can act circles all around her, kid; and as
for looks! You got her backed off the boards."
Rhonda laughed. "That's why she's a famous star and I'm a double. Quit
your kidding."
"I'm not kidding. The company's all talking about it. You stole the
scenes we shot while she was laid up. Even Orman knows it, and he's got
a crush on her."
"You're prejudiced--you don't like her."
"She's nothing in my young life, one way or another. But I do like you,
Rhonda. I like you a lot. I--oh, pshaw--you know what I mean."
"What are you doing, Bill--making love to me?"
"I'm trying to."
"Well, as a lover you're a great cameraman--and you'd better stick
to your camera. This is not exactly the ideal setting for a love
scene. I am surprised that a great cameraman like you should have
failed to appreciate that. You'd never shoot a love scene against this
background."
"I'm shootin' one now, Rhonda. I love you."
"Cut!" laughed the girl.