JUNGLE DANCERS
The victory was complete.
By the time Mahatma Sikandar came on the scene, borne upon his litter,
the Muta-Kungas were in full flight, pursued by the Kungoras, Gorols
and Taharans.
The Arabs, too, had vanished, but a few of their horses were loose,
running about the village and the surrounding forest.
Dick spied his Taharan friends, Kurt and Kurul, returning from the
pursuit of the enemies and cried:
"Round up the stray horses! Get all you can! We'll start out to
rescue Dad."
"Yes, Master," they replied obediently, and called upon their fellows
to help in the capture of the terrified animals.
The Mahatma spoke to them in his placid voice:
"Patience, my children! I see that the battle has gone as I foretold.
Through my power over beasts, I caused the elephants to stampede. Now
be quiet, and watch. You will see me bring the horses to you."
Fascinated, Dick and his followers watched the wise old Hindu raise
both hands above his head with a convulsive gesture. His eyes closed.
At the same time his lips moved as he appeared to be saying something
under his breath. But no sound came to the ears of the men beside him.
The message was not meant for them. It was directed at the runaway
horses.
At a distance the beasts were racing madly, at first, then their pace
slackened and a few of them began to graze quietly, while the others
stared in the direction of the holy man.
Kurt and Kurul, ropes in hand, gave a grunt of admiration, "Mahatma
Good!" and started to bring in the horses.
But Dick restrained them. "Leave it to the wise man," he said. "He
does not need help."
Sure enough in a few minutes the horses began straying back to where
the Mahatma was sitting, all their fear gone.
"Now you can capture them, Dick Sahib," said Sikandar. "Go to them
quietly and take them by their bridles."
Dan cried enthusiastically, "You are certainly there with the goods,
chief!" With one arm around his sister, he exclaimed, "There's the man
you want to thank, Ray! Without his help we might never have rescued
you!"
"That's right!" cried Dick. "You owe him everything!"
Ray bowed and expressed her thanks shyly. The strange old Hindu did
not seem so wonderful to her, but if Dick and Dan said he was a miracle
worker, there must be something to it.
And now Raal came forward, still holding Veena as though he could never
let her go.
Prostrating himself before the Mahatma, Raal drew the girl down beside
him and the pair addressed a chant of thanksgiving to him in their own
language.
The old man beamed upon them and uttered a blessing, then turned to
Dick.
"You are impatient, my son."
"Yes, holy man. It is about my father. Can you help me save him?"
"I know. I know what has happened," said the Hindu. "Today the
spirits that control my crystal are active, and I have seen everything."
"And will you bring Dad back safely?"
"Tomorrow you shall clasp his hand. Have no fear."
But Dick was not so easily quieted.
"He is in the power of a murderous scoundrel, a man who tried to kill
me."
"Fear not, my son."
"Let me take the horses and go out with a party tonight."
"That would spoil everything! You would be lost in the forests. See,
already the shadows are heavy in the jungle and before you could
overtake him, it would be dark as the souls of evil men. Also the
jungle is full of fierce beasts. The leopards, the lions and the
crocodiles would destroy you."
Reluctantly Dick decided to stay in the camp until daylight, and join
in the feasting that celebrated the victory.
"It is well for you that I have taught the Kungoras to advance a little
way in the path of good," said the Mahatma, "otherwise you would have
witnessed a cannibal feast this night."
"Do you mean it?" cried Dan.
"I do mean it. When I came to the Kungoras, they were eaters of human
flesh. They believed that eating the heart of an enemy gave them all
his strength and courage."
"And they slaughtered their prisoners?"
"And feasted on them!"
"That's too many for me!" ejaculated Dan Carter. "I can't deny that
I'm fond of eats, but if it came to making a lunch off one of those
Muta-Kungas, I'd rather go hungry."
The smell of cooking floated over the camp, mingled with the smoke of
wood fires. Plenty of food had been found in the mud huts thatched
with straw, for the surprise attack had caused the natives to flee
without taking anything.
The feast was served in the clearing before the ruins of Chief
Mobogoma's house. There a big fire was kept burning and by its light
the warriors gorged themselves with roasted game, corn and other
products of the garden patches and then finished off with quantities of
bananas and other fruit.
Ray and Dick ate sparingly as was their habit, and the Mahatma
contented himself with a little food and that of the plainest, but Dan
Carter joined the warriors in disposing of huge quantities of roasted
and broiled meat.
The savages showed their delight in his prowess.
"Dan good!" said Kural.
"Dan big chief!" replied Kurt, his mouth full, and reached into a stew
pot with a forked stick.
As the boy smiled at them, waving a bone that he was gnawing, Dick sang
out:
"Take care, Dan! I was tipped off that the Kungoras smuggled in part
of a Muta-Kunga brave among the stew meat."
Dan pulled back hastily and stared at the big pot in which vegetables
and chunks of meat were mingled.
"You take?" asked Kurul.
"Stew good!" suggested Kurt with a broad smile.
"No thanks," gasped Dan Carter, turning a little pale. "I don't--think
I care--for any more."
He got up hastily and left the circle of heavy eaters.
"Lost your appetite?" laughed Dick.
"No, not exactly. I just--think I've had--enough! Guess I'll take a
little walk!" And Dan disappeared on the trot.
Ray gave Dick a reproachful look. "Is that nice?" she asked. But she
was unable to keep back a smile.
"Dan Sahib is bound to the wheel of fleshly enjoyment," remarked the
Mahatma. "He must learn to restrain his appetites."
"Especially his appetite for stew, when dining with jungle blacks!"
laughed Dick.
The meal was prolonged far into the night and broken by exhibitions of
tribal dances. First the Gorols pranced about the fire in single file.
They bent low, shuffling along and uttering monkey-like cries, while to
make the resemblance perfect they had tied long twigs to their belts,
so that they waggled like tails during the dance.
With their dark skins, long thin arms and legs and primitive features,
they looked more like ape-men than ever and Ray and Dick shouted with
laughter.
Dan Carter returned to the circle, attracted by the noise.
"Get in line, Dan, you are all that's needed to complete the picture,"
his friend kidded him.
"I don't--think I feel--like dancing," replied Dan, still a little
greenish about the gills. "I'm not feeling very well."
"Have some more stew!"
Ray slapped Dick's arm and cried, "Don't tease the poor boy!"
"All right," Dick extended his hand. "Come on, Dan! Shake on it!
We'll change the subject."
The Taharans were the next to dance and with a great brandishing of
flint knives and stone axes they went through an imaginary battle. Two
warriors would break away from the line and face each other like
duellists, while the rest danced about them, uttering war cries that
made the forest ring.
"These mock battles look like the real thing!" said Dick. "Look at
that! I thought sure that the tall fellow was going to split the other
one with his axe."
"I don't like it," said Ray. "What if he got excited and landed a
blow?"
"Then there would be one Taharan the less.--Watch out! Now the
Kungoras are going to it!"
With a howl like jungle beasts, the black men were on their feet and
rushing to the firelight with spears and painted shields waving above
their heads.
At the same time the boom-boom-boom of the hollowed log resounded, the
huge drum that the Muta-Kungas used for sending alarms through the
forest.
"Now it's getting good!" exclaimed Dan, forgetting his attack of
indigestion. "I wondered whether the natives were going to forget the
old tom-tom."
"Boom-boom-boom," went the big drum like a challenge, and at that the
Kungora dancers lined up in two bands facing each other and howled
defiance and threats back and forth.
"What's going to happen?" whispered Ray clinging to Dick's arm. "Are
they really going to kill each other?"
"Can't say. Ask the Mahatma. He knows this tribe."
"If they do slay a few warriors, it will be an accident," said Mahatma
Sikandar. "This is a dance of battle and they sometimes forget it is
not the real thing."
"How terrible!" cried Ray.
"Can't you make them be reasonable?" asked Dick as the Hindu watched
the apparently enraged savages.
"Reasonable? What human being is ever reasonable?" asked the wise man.
"Are your own people reasonable when they slaughter each other with
guns and poison gas? No, the savages are on a low plane, but the
civilized men are also far from the path of wisdom."
"Go it, Mutaba!" shouted Dan, clapping his hands.
The guide and chief warrior of the Kungoras was dancing in front of his
own band, shaking his spear in the face of the rival leader. The pair
rushed together furiously, leaped back and returned to the attack,
while their rolling eyes and thick snarling lips expressed murderous
hatred.
Behind each leader swept the warrior ranks, brandishing their weapons,
guarding with their shields and pretending to attack and retreat in
wild convulsive rhythms.
Their bodies, dripping with sweat, gleamed in the firelight, the whites
of their eyes flashed furiously and foam gathered in the corners of
their mouths as they jerked and writhed in mimic warfare.
All the time the drum kept up its beating, ever faster and wilder, like
the pulse of a fever patient. To this boom-boom-boom was added the
yells and shrieks of the frenzied Kungoras, and above the din rose the
excited chatter of monkeys in the tree tops and the shrill outcries of
parrots and other birds. Even the beasts in the depths of the forest
had caught the tense excitement from afar, and the black jungle echoed
with the roar of lions and the trumpeting of elephants.
"What a night!" gasped Ray, tightening her grasp on Dick.
"It's a grand show!" exclaimed Dan. "Wouldn't miss it for a big league
ball game!"
"Reminds me of the witch-hunt," said Dick in a low voice. "Remember
the night Cimbula was picking out victims for sacrifice?"
"Gee, I thought I was a goner when that black fellow grabbed me," Dan
ejaculated. "Say, let me tell you I have dreamed of that many a night
and started up in a cold sweat."
"That was horrible!" Ray answered. "Every second I expected that
witch-doctor to pounce on me."
"Well, Mahatma," said Dan, "you did a good job to tame those wild
Kungoras. How did you ever teach them to be good? How did you make
them obey you?"
"By the power of the mind," answered the Hindu. "The spirit of the
wise is master of the wildest savage. Watch me, and you shall see."
Fascinated, the two boys and Ray looked on, while the Mahatma leaned
back, closed his eyes and seemed to put the force of his mind upon the
frenzied dancers.
At first there was no response. The dance was more furious than ever.
Then, one at a time, the warriors seemed to come to their senses. Man
after man lowered his weapons, dropped quietly out of the ranks and
returned to squat before the fire, all pausing to make a hasty
prostration in front of the wise man before they sat down.
The Mahatma did not open his eyes until the notes of the big drum had
faded out into silence. By that time all the blacks were seated and
once more eating quietly.
"It's a miracle," said Dick.
"It sure is," answered Dan. "Listen. Even the wild beasts in the
jungle have quieted down."
"There is more to this than I can understand," whispered Ray.
"Those Hindus know plenty of things that are beyond me," Dick answered.
"I thought it was all the bunk, at first," said Dan, "but now I think
the old man is the real article."
"Wait until you go to India where the masters are," Dick continued.
"Then you will see miracles that even our Mahatma can't understand."
"I'd love to go," said the girl. "Africa is thrilling enough, goodness
knows, but India fascinates me."
Before the feast broke up, Dan, Ray and Dick slipped away, too tired to
hold their eyes open.