INTO THE UNKNOWN
"Well, Doctor," announced Schoverling the next morning, "How near
through are you? The sooner we get off the better."
"I will be through to-morrow night," said von Hofe contentedly. "The
skins have been pared down to the right thickness, and to-day and
to-morrow they will be fixed up and sent off. What does the country look
like ahead?"
"It looks like several weeks of rough work," smiled the explorer. "We'll
have no trouble in getting on, at least for the present. When we strike
down into the plains on the north, however, we may have a harder time.
But there are fig-trees in plenty, and on the northern rivers cabbage
palms and other wild fruits which ought to supply us. Then we can count
on leaving on the third morning?"
Von Hofe nodded, and fell to work. The sections of skins were set out
on the ground and by this time were well dried, while their superfluous
thickness had been pared off by scores of Kikuyu and Masai knives. Now
the doctor mixed gourd after gourd of his preparative, and set the
natives to work rubbing it into the under side of the skins.
At one side stood the skulls and a few other bones, boiled clear of all
flesh and varnished. These, with the tusks of the bull, the doctor began
packing up while the skins were being attended to. Guru and the other
Indians did all this work with great care, to the entire satisfaction of
the scientist. Then the well-wrapped packages were slung to poles, for
greater safety and more ease in carriage, and by evening were ready.
The boys pitched in and gave good assistance in this work, directing the
natives in putting on coat after coat of preservative and rubbing it in
well. But von Hofe was everywhere, mixing his chemicals, seeing that
everything was done exactly as he wished it, and seemingly endowed with
superhuman energy.
"He's no slouch when he gets a-going," murmured Charlie that night, as
von Hofe was getting his sketches and films into shape for packing.
"He's done more hustling to-day than on all the rest of the trip put
together."
"That's no lie," agreed Jack. "I kind of thought the old boy was a
bluff, at first. But he's all to the good, Chuck. Shouldn't wonder if he
surprised us a heap later on."
The next day everything was packed up that could be got ready. The skins
were still staked out to dry thoroughly, but the Indians could attend to
them, and Schoverling was impatient to be off. Fifty Kikuyu men were
hired to take the stuff back, under the lead of the Arab and the two
Somalis, who were intelligent and thoroughly reliable. The spare Gurkha
was to accompany them.
So far the oxen had got along in fine shape, and when it came to loading
the wagons, Charlie in charge of this duty, found that their equipment
was light indeed.
"Look here, Gen'ral," he complained late that afternoon, "the doctor has
used up ten cases of his stuff. That leaves only five, with his little
brass trunk. Then there's that case of tomatoes we haven't opened yet,
another of baked beans, the ammunition and guns, tents and Gholab
Singh's little stove, and the traps. The whole business won't make a
quarter-load for one wagon."
"So much the better for the oxen," returned the explorer. "We'll load up
as we go along, Chuck. Jack, I'll appoint you commissary-major, to bring
in the supplies of green stuff and vegetables. You can take Gholab as
interpreter. It'll be up to you to load, Charlie. We won't have to do
much hunting till after we pass the commissioner's place, except for the
Masai."
"I'll give you all the work you can handle," prophesied Jack, to his
chum. "You just wait!"
The next morning the safari filed out from the camp, the Masai greeting
the inspanning with huge delight. Bakari and his men promised that they
would accompany Schoverling as far as he wished to go, and the boys were
struck more than once by the utter fearlessness of these Masai, who had
absolutely no dread of advancing into a strange country.
The march, however, was by no means fast. Von Hofe remained to see his
skins safely off, promising to catch up to them later. As before, they
made forced marches, for the oxen were fresh and the work was light for
them now. Now, as Schoverling had foretold, Jack got all the work he
wanted. With three three-hour halts a day, Jack and Gholab rode on ahead
and got everything ready for each halt--bartered for goats and sheep and
chickens, obtained what vegetables and fruit the natives could spare,
and when the wagons arrived Charlie pitched in and loaded up.
So tired were the boys that at night they wrapped up in their blankets
and dozed as they rode. Once they passed a herd of at least fifty
buffalo, which gathered in a clump, horns out, and pawed the ground and
bellowed as the wagons passed. Fortunately, no charge was made, and all
drew a breath of relief when the danger was over.
They finally drew up to the station with the wagons loaded high. Captain
Yonge greeted von Hofe delightedly, and they rested there for a day. A
dozen small water-casks were slung beneath the wagons, to be filled
later. As they were departing a native runner came up with news that
caused the commissioner to saddle in haste.
"There's an outbreak fifty miles to the west," he said, his men
appearing from their own building. "We've got to go over and quash
things before the riot spreads. Well, good luck to you all! Sorry I
can't be with you!"
Both boys were glad enough to hasten on. The high altitude was not good
for the oxen, and the cold nights disgusted both of them, for they were
hardly prepared to meet cold in this region. Day and night they forced
the march along, and were soon rewarded by drawing through valleys and
slopes to the plains once more.
As they went forward the vegetation changed. There was no jungle ahead
of them--only long rolling slopes dotted with thorntree patches and
covered with long thick grass. More than once lions trotted away before
them, and on one occasion they were forced to kill a lioness that
charged full at the wagons.
"It is beautiful country," exclaimed von Hofe enthusiastically, pointing
to the mountain peaks that shot up on every side. "Some day it will be
grand farms, when the soil is watered. See, it is volcanic."
He picked up a stone, showing them the indications of volcanic origin.
Here and there palms towered up, and when they camped beside a river
the next evening the vegetation bordered its banks thickly. Of game
there was no lack, and that night the three took their gun-bearers and
sallied forth.
"We ought to find a deer-run along this river," declared Jack.
Schoverling smiled.
"According to the map it's a branch of the Guaso Nyero, and the last big
stream we strike. To-morrow we head off to the northeast, and into the
mapless country. See if you can run across any tracks, boys."
Charlie and Jack separated and after twenty minutes' search in the dusk
Charlie located an open glade in a great grove of mimosas, where the
deep tracks showed that hundreds of animals were in the habit of
watering. Von Hofe had followed them and now joined the party, bearing a
little rifle which he had carried in sections in his tiny brass trunk.
"I am something going to shoot," he said, paying no attention to their
jests. "Is it allowed to smoke?"
"Not much," chuckled Jack. "You just sit tight and wait. What you going
to shoot?"
"I want a good oryx head," declared the scientist. "But I will shoot him
myself."
That was a wonderful night to the two boys. Hour after hour they waited
until the moon came up, and before them filed uncounted hundreds of
animals. There were great droves of zebra, giraffes by the score, three
or four rhinoceroses who plunged across the stream and vanished, herd
after herd of gazelle, antelope, and wildebeest, and a magnificent drove
of the cow-like eland.
Lions abounded, but the other animals paid them no attention, nor did
the great cats come for game; they would appear, drink, and slink away,
two or three even swimming across the stream. Toward midnight a number
of oryx were seen, their long, black, sword-like horns mixed with a herd
of zebra. So far not a shot had been fired, but without warning von Hofe
raised his little sporting rifle and fired twice.
Instantly the game was off, with a great clicking of hoofs and startled
snorts. The explorer and the two boys at once picked out their animals
and opened fire. To his vast delight, von Hofe's oryx bounded high and
fell dead; it was found that both bullets had gone through the heart.
Schoverling put down another oryx and a zebra, whose flesh the Masai
delighted in, though it was too tough for the others. Jack and Charlie
each dropped an eland, Jack wounding a hartebeest which got away in the
rush. An instant later, only the thunder of hoofs dying away in the
distance showed what vast herds had been there.
The next day they headed by compass for the northeast, which would take
them into the supposed desert country, but clear of the great Lorian
swamp. Here for the first time they began to be tormented by
flies--great long insects such as the boys had never seen, and which
rendered fly-nets necessary to their tents at night. Had it not been for
them, the tents might have remained unused, for the whites needed them
little and the Indians slept in the wagons.
Once they came to an outlying village of the Samburu--a nomad people
dwelling farther south. Here they found not only cattle, sheep and
goats, but herds of camels, which were kept for their milk and hair
alone. These villagers knew nothing of what lay beyond, save that it was
desert and uninhabitable.
So, with full water-casks, a renewed store of figs, cabbage-palm tops,
and other vegetables, the safari pushed into the desert, going forward
day and night. Charlie, much to his surprise and disgust, found that the
Masai had little need for water, drinking the blood of game instead, "to
make their hearts fierce." This, however, was a great saving to their
supply.
There were many hyenas scattered over the district, and these the boys
shot wherever found, as they are a perfect scourge and good for nothing.
The earth was sun-baked, and the explorer declared that no water had
fallen here for possibly a year or more, which the boys could well
believe. The game gave place to giraffes, ostriches, and a few varieties
of the plains antelope, so that each day they had to circle farther from
the camp to secure enough.
Day after day they pushed forward, skirting at times the edge of miasmic
swamps, and generally sticking to the desolate plain. They refilled
their casks at occasional water-holes, and the oxen used little water on
the march. Von Hofe made no comment, until two weeks of this had passed
with no sign of approaching villages or elephant country. Then, one
night, he gave voice to his thoughts.
[Illustration: For the man, just as he relapsed into unconsciousness,
murmured four words: "Help--me debbil man!"]
"Are you sure, Schoverling, that there is anything beyond this? It to me
seems not much like elephant country."
"I'm taking a chance, Doctor," returned the dust-caked explorer. "This
desert is bound to loosen up sometime, and there is surely elephant
country ahead. Give us another week; then if we strike nothing I'll head
around toward Lake Rudolph and the mountains."
The other nodded, and said no more. Charlie and Jack had also grown
weary of the desolate surroundings, but no complaint had come from the
Masai. Two days later one of the oxen died, and on the third day
another, from unexplained causes. Then, on the fifth morning, a yell of
delight went up from all at sight of green trees ahead.
"It's a drift," exclaimed Charlie, examining the slender line of trees
as they pushed their horses on.
"What's that under those big mimosas?" called Jack. "Looks like a native
hut."
"Right you are, Jack!" cried the explorer. "Come on Guru!"
They advanced at a gallop, leaving the wagons far behind. Half an hour
later they came to the drift--a wide, rocky little valley through which
trickled a tiny stream of water. No sign of natives appeared, however,
until their horses had watered and they clambered over the stones on
foot toward the single hut beneath the mimosas. Then, as Jack shouted
aloud, a man appeared in the doorway, crawling toward them on hands and
knees.
"The poor devil's all in," exclaimed Schoverling. "Careful, boys! He may
have the plague."
"Let me go first," said the German quietly. They could see that the man,
who seemed to be an Arab, was frightfully emaciated. His head was bound
up, and half-healed thorn-scars covered his body. Von Hofe beckoned them
to come on, as he knelt beside the poor wretch, but as the boys came to
his side a startled exclamation broke from them.
For the man, just as he relapsed into unconsciousness, murmured four
words.
"Help--me debbil man!"