A DOUBTFUL CLUE
PIET VAN DER WYCK had no difficulty in catching one of the
masterless steeds while the Haussa secured the other. The animals
seemed hardly distressed. They had been cantering along at an easy
pace, and gave no indications of having been frightened. Bridle,
saddle, and stirrups were in place; there was nothing to give a clue
to what had befallen the riders.
"Perhaps," suggested Van der Wyck, "they dismounted and forgot to
tether the animals."
"Hardly likely," demurred Colonel Narfield. "Although they are
fairly raw hands with horses they know better than that. Desmond
might, though; but Colin is too thoughtful and cautious. It may be
that one of them was thrown and the other dismounted to go to his
assistance. In that case the animals might stampede. We can dismiss
the wild beast theory. Had a lion sprung upon the lads unawares the
horses, even if they escaped, would have been terrified. Besides,
there's no sign of an injury to either beast. Bring the horses
along, Tenpenny Nail; they might be useful."
The search was resumed. At a slow pace the party rode under the
trees, keeping a keen watch for broken undergrowth or any other sign
that might lead to the unravelling of the mystery.
Once they halted, Van der Wyck and the Haussas dismounted to follow
a well-defined spoor through the dense undergrowth. Here the ground
was marshy, and it was easy to pick out the hoof marks of a large
rhinoceros, but of human footprints not a sign was visible.
Baffled, and with their spirits falling rapidly, the searchers rode
on until they came within sight of Sibenga Kraal.
The feast was still in progress when Colonel Narfield's party rode
up. The villagers were gorging themselves on roasted elephant flesh
washed down by copious draughts of native beer.
Those who were not torpid with excessive food and drink were
strongly inclined to be quarrelsome. In their befuddled state these
men were not likely to be of much use as trackers.
Very peremptorily Colonel Narfield called upon Logula to come to
him. The chief had still sufficient sense to realise that the
summons must be obeyed.
"Listen, Logula," said the Colonel. "When we left you after doing
you great service by slaying the bull elephant and the two cow
elephants there were two white men riding behind the bearers."
"Yes, Great One; that is so," agreed Logula. "One was the
Little-Son-of-the-Great-One-that-wears-the-Charm."
Colonel Narfield did not attempt to deny the imputed relationship.
"The two white men are lost," he said. "There will be great reward
paid to Logula, successor to Sibenga, if he or any of his people
find them."
Logula eyed the Colonel curiously. "Hau!" he exclaimed. "What is
amiss with the Magic of the Great One that he has to come to Logula
and ask him to use _his_ magic? Truly it is strange. And as yet no
witch-doctor dwells in Sibenga's Kraal. It was by the
iron-tube-that-breathes-fire-and smoke belonging to the Great One
that the wise witch-doctor was slain. Having destroyed his magic by
a magic greater than his, how comes it that you seek my lesser
charms to aid your greater magic?"
"I do not ask the aid of your sorcerers and witch-doctors, Logula,"
declared Herbert Narfield. "I want your skilled trackers, although
judging by the evidence of my eyes and ears they are no better than
oxen stricken with rinder-pest."
Logula followed the direction of the Colonel's glance and shrugged
his massive shoulders. Then he pointed with his knobkerrie at two
dazed-looking natives who were squatting with their eyes staring
glazedly into the fire.
Although the chief made no sound, and the two men were not looking
in his direction, both roused themselves and crawled to within a
yard of the spot where Logula stood.
"Go!" he commanded. "Find the spoor of the
White-Man-who-wears-the-Charm."
Colonel Narfield regarded the men disdainfully. He knew the
capabilities of native trackers, but these fellows looked
dissipated.
Nevertheless, when the pair started off with their heads well
forward and their eyes fixed upon the ground he put spurs to his
horse, at the same time giving vent to a strong ejaculation as the
action sent a burning, shooting pain through his injured ankle.
His companions followed. Their horses had to be urged into a steady
trot to keep pace with the bronzed human sleuth-hounds, who, without
looking up to see where they were going, covered the ground at a
good seven or eight miles an hour.
"I don't suppose the beggars will be of the slightest use," remarked
Colonel Narfield to Van der Wyck. "There's one thing, we are at
present following the lads' track. With luck we may find a spoor
that we missed on our outward journey."
When at length the native trackers reached the place where the
forest closed in upon the road they slowed down considerably.
Bending close to the ground they were continually sniffing and
lolling their tongues like dogs on the scent. From time to time they
stopped, went down on their hands and knees, and smelt the
sun-baked, dusty track.
Proceeding thus, they plunged into the gloom of the tunnel-like
archway of foliage. In places it was so dark that Narfield had
difficulty in distinguishing their bronzed figures from the sombre
path.
For nearly half a mile through the avenue the natives continued
their way. Not a word was spoken. Only the thud of horses' hoofs and
the nasal noises of the two natives broke the tense silence.
Suddenly the trackers stopped, and stood erect, back to back. For
nearly half a minute they remained immovable; then, crawling in
ever-widening curves, they began to circle round their halting-place
until the limit of their orbit brought them into contact with the
undergrowth.
Apparently these tactics failed to produce the desired effect, for
they began to retrace their spiral course until they arrived at the
spot whence they had started.
Still on their knees they went, smelling and sniffing. One of the
fellows stood up and seized the bridle of Colonel Narfield's horse,
forcing the animal back for a few yards.
"All right, Tenpenny Nail," said the rider quietly as the Haussa was
on the point of administering punishment to the apparently offensive
native. "I want to give him a fair trial."
Whatever spoor they had been following, it was evident that the
trackers were at a loss. Again they went through the spiral
movements, paying great attention to the trees and undergrowth.
Presently one of the natives approached the Colonel.
"Great One!" he exclaimed. "My snake is good to me. To me much is
revealed. Neither to the right hand nor to the left, neither in
front nor behind, nor under the ground has the
White-Man-that-wears-the-Charm and his brother gone. They went this
way."
And he pointed immediately above his head.
Colonel Narfield and his companions followed the direction of the
up-pointed finger. Twenty feet above their heads the foliage grew
thick and even. Somewhere in that green ceiling branches met from
the massive trees on either side of the darkened road.
It was obvious that the branches were so high from the ground that
they could not possibly sweep a pair of horsemen from the saddle,
and the idea that Colin and Desmond had climbed any of the trees was
extremely improbable.
"Rubbish! Preposterous rot!" ejaculated the Colonel angrily. "Come
on, Van der Wyck, we've wasted valuable time in following the antics
of a pair of intoxicated niggers. We'll return home as fast as we
can. I'll send McFrazer post haste to Nyaruma and get my friend
Wynyard, the District Commissioner, to send reliable native
trackers. These blighters are unholy frauds."
And signing to the natives to get out of the way, the Colonel urged
his horse into a hand-gallop, his companions following his example.
But his physical powers were unequal to the demand of his moral
strength and resolution; for upon arriving at Kilembonga he fell
forward in his saddle in a swoon. Van der Wyck was only just in time
to save him from a dangerous tumble.
So far the search for the missing lads had not only been
unsuccessful, but other misfortunes had descended upon this little
outpost of civilisation in the wilds of East Africa.