BLACK WARRIORS
"Can you beat it!" exclaimed Dan Carter in astonishment, on hearing the
English words spoken among a savage tribe in the jungle.
A chuckle was heard from the tangle of foliage above the heads of the
two boys as they drew rein where the jungle path entered a clearing.
"Advance, Dick Sahib! Mahatma Sikandar speaks!"
"Don't go!" whispered Dan. "There's something spooky about this. How
does he know your name? Maybe it's a trap. If we go out there in the
open they will use us for targets."
"Keep quiet, Dan, I want to speak to the man. Besides they can shoot
us here if they have a mind to do it. If there is a trap we're in it
right now," Dick answered impatiently.
But Dan could not keep quiet. Before Dick could stop him the boy
called out:
"Say, Mister, I bet you don't know what my name is."
A hearty laugh issued from the hiding place of the Mahatma. "Dan Sahib
is young. After many lives, he will gain wisdom--perhaps!"
Dan stared above his head in speechless amazement. Here they were
miles away from any one they knew, yet this man had called them both by
their names and in their own tongue.
"Who is he, anyway?" whispered Dan.
"He must be a Hindu with that name, and I judge also by the sing-song
English he uses. But what is he doing here? That's what I want to
know."
"Advance friends," once more the Mahatma spoke. "The men of the
Kungoras are brave warriors, they will not harm you for I have given
them promise that you are my friends."
"Let's go!" said Dick, touching his horse's sides with his heels,
sending the animal trotting into the clearing where the savages had
ranged themselves in a huge semicircle.
A file of the Taharan and Gorol warriors followed Dick and Dan into the
clearing.
There was a tense pause.
It seemed as though a battle might follow at any moment, for the
Taharans and Gorols looked upon all strangers as foes and the blacks
were dangerous looking fellows. The Kungora tribe was warlike and
powerful, which accounted for the slave raiders leaving them alone.
Tall, well formed and athletic, each man was like an ebony statue,
armed with a long bow or else with a slender lance tipped with a
leaf-shaped iron point and a broad shield of buffalo hide. The shields
were painted with fantastic designs and light as they were could turn a
spear thrust or withstand an arrow.
The black warriors were scantily clad with strips of hide and adorned
with copper bracelets and neckbands. Their round heads were covered
with little pointed caps, under which their rolling eyes and shiny
negro features looked fiercely hostile, as they glared at the strange
blond savages and the ape-like Gorols.
As Dick reached the center of the cleared space, he wheeled his horse
suddenly and looked up at the lowest branches of the trees above the
jungle path he had just left, but a dense tangle of vines and moss hung
from limb to limb. There was no sign of the man who had spoken to them.
"Raal and his people would say this was black magic," exclaimed Dick,
"and I'm half inclined to think it is. Who ever heard of such a
strange coincidence? It doesn't happen."
But Dick Oakwood bowed toward the tree. "We thank you, Mahatma
Sikandar for your protection."
But before Dick could speak further, Sikandar went on in his clipped
English.
"The young Sahib has come far. The journey was full of frightful
dangers, and Dick Sahib has done this for the sake of a girl he does
not love. That much I see."
"And that is true, Mahatma Sikandar. But how did you know it?" asked
Dick.
"He must be a mind reader. Or maybe it _is_ black magic!" said Dan in
an undertone.
As they talked, the warriors of the Taharans and Gorols glared
suspiciously at the black men; their hands were on their weapons ready
to fight. Raal tried to quiet them, feeling that the Boy King could be
trusted. He watched Dick's face but it showed no sign of fear or
uneasiness. Therefore, he, as Dick's chief warrior, need not be
afraid. He dismounted and drew near to Dick.
But the Boy King had his eyes on the screen of vines above the path.
At first he could see nothing but the mass of green, but finally
through the foliage he saw two shining eyes staring at him. Then the
leaves parted and Mahatma Sikandar's whole head appeared. It was a
broad good-natured face with a luxuriant grey beard. His dark eyes
were smiling.
"Why he looks exactly like Santa Claus," exclaimed Dan, "Merry
Christmas, old scout!"
The old man ignored this remark from Dan. His head suddenly
disappeared and a few minutes later the Hindu had dropped from the tree
and was walking toward them.
"Now perhaps Dan Sahib will believe that I am human," he said extending
his hand, English fashion.
His body was short and fat and naked except for a loin cloth of saffron
colored cotton. His complexion was darker than that of most white men
and his eyes were smiling and friendly yet there was a shadow of a
sneer in them, a look of craftiness that made Dick and Dan determine to
be on their guard.
The boys shook the Hindu's hand, after which the Mahatma turned to the
chief of the Kungoras and ordered him to bring fresh water and fruit
for the visitors and to prepare a feast. The black savages hurried
away with grinning faces, well pleased to show Mahatma's friends the
hospitality of their village.
Sikandar drew Dick and Dan aside and squatting cross-legged on the
ground, invited the guests to do the same. In his hand he carried
something that was wrapped in a black cloth.
During a pause in the conversation Dan suddenly blurted out: "Say, I'd
like to know how you can tell about our trek across the desert, and our
names and all that. Who told you?"
The Mahatma smiled mysteriously. "There are many things revealed to
wise men that are kept from others," he said very slowly. "Long before
you arrived in the jungle I saw you."
The Mahatma closed his eyes for a second then opened them and stared at
Dan. He seemed to be looking straight through him. Then he continued
in a hollow-sounding voice: "I saw riders, many of them on strange
small horses, the like of which I have never seen until today. And the
riders urged their horses forward for they saw ahead of them an oasis
where they were to rest and drink." Suddenly the Mahatma turned to
Dick. "Is that true, Dick Sahib?" he asked.
"Yes, it is true." Dick replied simply.
"Then suddenly the riders all slumped in their saddles and looked tired
and ill, for the oasis had disappeared leaving only sandy waste in all
directions. Is that true, Dan Sahib?"
"Jiminy crickets, you've got it straight all right, but _how_ did you
see all that?"
"And where you are going and what you will do, I also know. There is a
young girl, a princess, bound and imprisoned. This I see and much
besides." He looked meaningly at the boys.
"Boloney!" said Dan in a low tone that Mahatma missed, but he saw the
look of disbelief on the boy's face.
"Dan Sahib does not believe that I speak true. I will show him!"
Dan was about to make a flippant retort but Dick gave him a threatening
look.
Dick's face was alight with interest. He had heard of the Hindu Yogi
who spend many years among the wise men of Tibet, who are supposed to
hold all the wisdom of the world in their keeping. Was Mahatma
Sikandar one of these? Dick hoped so, for he had always wanted to
study occultism and hoped to learn something of it first hand. He was
watching the Hindu earnestly and at the first chance he said:
"Can you really see what has not yet happened? It is true that we are
on our way to rescue a princess of the Taharans. But tell us, Mahatma
Sikandar, will we arrive in time to save her?"
"Veena is safe at present," replied the Hindu.
"But how do you know that?" interrupted Dan impatiently. "You may have
been able by mind reading to guess our names, but you can't tell me
that there is anything in this fortune telling."
The Mahatma's eyes flashed fire for a second, then he became calm once
more and turned to Dick, ignoring Dan's outburst.
"I have heard of occultism," said Dick. "But I want to learn more. I
would like to have you instruct me."
"It is a long hard way, Dick Sahib. Many lives are needed to gain
wisdom. I will show you."
Sikandar unwrapped the black cloth and displayed a ball that looked
like transparent glass.
"He's a crystal gazer!" exclaimed Dan. "Read your fortune for
seventy-five cents. It's all the bunk!"
The other two ignored these remarks and Dick spoke quickly. "Look into
the crystal and tell us what you see. Is Veena being treated badly?
Where is she?"
"She is well treated even though she is kept prisoner, for a white man
is bargaining for her sale."
"What's _his_ name?" asked Dan, giving Dick a poke in the ribs and with
an elaborate wink whispered, "I bet the old fakir can't answer a direct
question."
"The name of the white scoundrel is Slythe, Jess Slythe. He is a bad
man and will in his next life be less than the worms. Thus it is
written."
Dan Carter thrust out his hand which the Mahatma grasped without
understanding why.
"Attaboy, Old Whiskers!" said Dan. "Now you're talking! I don't wish
Jess Slythe any bad luck but I'm hoping everything you say comes true."
Dick turned at this moment and saw Raal. He was sitting with his head
between his knees, a picture of distress. Dick called him. "Come
here, Raal!" And as the warrior obeyed, Dick talked to him kindly.
"Don't worry, Raal. This man, Mahatma Sikandar, is a very great
witch-doctor. He can see things hidden from men and gods. By his
magic, looking through that sacred ball which he holds so tightly in
his hand, he can see everything that goes on in the world. He says
that he can see into the village of the Muta-gungas." Dick paused for
a moment to let his words sink in.
"Speak O Master! What does he see?"
"He sees Veena, who is kept a prisoner. She is not dead, as you
feared, but is being held for a big bargain with Chief Mobogoma, just
as Kulki told us. Jess Slythe is asking a big price for the white
princess."
"How far away is she, O Tahara?" asked Raal anxiously.
Dick translated the question for the Mahatma who answered, stroking his
beard:
"The village is a day's march from here."
"Then let us go at once, O Master. The bargain may be made quickly and
after she is once in the hands of Mobogoma, she will be lost to us.
Hurry, O Tahara!" Raal threw himself at Dick's feet.
"Yes, Raal, we will go soon," answered Dick. "And perhaps Mahatma
Sikandar will ask one of his tribesmen to guide us in the shortest way!"
The Mahatma nodded his head. "I will take counsel with my chief and it
will be decided," he said slowly.
Dick rose and looked about as if he intended to order the men to get
ready. But Dan put up a detaining hand, "Not so fast, Dick! There is
plenty of time." Dan rubbed his stomach, "Don't you smell the eats?
That fruit and water we got a little while ago was just an appetizer.
I'm hungry as a bear!"
"Not thus does a man gain wisdom," muttered the Mahatma. "It is by
fasting and meditation."
Raal was scowling angrily at Dan but Dick quieted him.
"The men are tired and hungry, Raal. Some of them are weak from the
long journey. Mahatma Sikandar, the wise man, has ordered a feast to
be set before us. After that we will go and the men will be better
able to stand the march when their stomachs are full. Is that not
true, Raal?"
"Yes, O Master, I know you speak the truth but my heart is heavy for
fear that harm will come to Veena."
Suddenly Sikandar, who had been gazing into the crystal ball, said
quietly:
"Tell Raal, the great warrior, that the little princess is safe.
Before two days are gone she will be under the protection of her own
people. Do not fear."
Raal smiled but looked eagerly toward his horse as if anxious to be
gone.
"Rest, my friends, and eat for the journey is hard and beset with many
dangers."
"What do you see, Master?" asked Dick again seating himself beside the
Hindu. "Shall we have to fight?"
"Yes, Dick Sahib, before two days are gone you will have to fight for
someone you love dearly." The Hindu gazed into the crystal and did not
speak for a long time. Then he straightened up and drew his hand
across his eyes.
"I do not see clearly. A fog shuts out the sight. It is not meant
that you should know. I cannot see!"
"Say Dick, don't put any stock in all that talk. I never thought you'd
fall for a lot of bunk like that. How can he tell, by looking into a
glass ball, what is going to happen?"
"Dan Sahib has still to learn what sorrow is. He will learn that
lesson soon. That much I see."
"What does he mean, Dick?" asked Dan nervously.
But the Mahatma had put away the crystal, wrapping it carefully in the
black cloth.
"There you've done it," scolded Dick. "We might have learned something
that would help us. Instead of that, you insult him, and it's all off!"
At that moment the chief of the Kungora tribe approached and with much
bowing announced that food was to be brought. The Mahatma retired to a
sheltered spot to eat alone and in meditation. Dan and Dick sat down
with the warriors.
"This is what I call service!" said Dan as a black boy spread large
leaves in front of him and deposited there a large roasted spurfowl.
There were large steaks of gazelle meat, wild apricots and a kind of
bread which the Mahatma had taught the natives to make, as he did not
eat flesh but lived on grains and fruit.
Hungrily the warriors set to on the meal, pulling the birds apart with
their fingers and devouring the bits in large mouthfuls.
"You would have made a good savage, Dan!" said Dick with a laugh, as he
watched his chum.
"I wouldn't mind belonging to this tribe," Dan retorted. "If they can
cook like this, I'm strong for them!"
But finally even Dan had to cry enough, for one course after another
was being served and it seemed as if the feasting might go on for days.
The Kungoras still sat in a semicircle about the visitors and later
Dick learned from the Mahatma that this was a sign of friendship.
"These blacks are a very peaceful tribe, I see," said Dick to the Hindu.
The Mahatma smiled tolerantly at his warriors. "_My_ ways are ways of
peace," he said quietly. "But these savage souls are just emerging.
They will learn through suffering. But just now they are known to be
the most warlike tribe in the jungles of Africa. Offer any one of them
their choice between a feast and a big battle and they'd take the
battle every time. And make no mistake about it, Dick Sahib, if I had
not been here to protect you, this present life would be over for you
and your young friend."
"I have no doubt of that, Mahatma Sikandar. And now as my men are
refreshed I think we should go on to the rescue of our little friend."
"That will only be the beginning of your jungle journey. Another
search will carry you far, far into its depths."
"Have you seen more?" asked Dick. "Tell me all, Mahatma Sikandar."
"It is not well for you to know all, Dick Sahib. For that reason a
cloud comes between me and your search. But this much I can tell you.
Through suffering and dangers you will finally win. Make ready, my
friend. The time is short."
"Your tribesmen are great warriors. Could you not send them with us to
help us in our search?"
"My ways are ways of peace, my son. I cannot send my men into battle.
But this I will do. Mutaba, one of the best trackers of game, who
knows the jungle as you do your house, he will guide you to the village
of the Muta-Gungas."
"We thank you, Mahatma Sikandar. The jungle is a new country to me and
my tribes of Taharans and Gorols. It will save us many weary steps."
The Mahatma suddenly raised himself. "Here, Mutaba! Make ready my
litter. I accompany Dick Sahib into the jungle."
"Say," whispered Dan to his chum, "I'm not sure I want Old Whiskers
along. He's something of a frost. I don't like him."
But Dick was giving orders to Raal, who joyously set his men to
saddling their horses.
"Let's get ready," he said. "We've got a big job ahead of us, if
Mahatma Sikandar knows what he's talking about."
"Okay!" answered Dan Carter. "I'm ready and waiting! Come on!"