MOWBRAY'S END
"He iss starved," exclaimed von Hofe. "See what iss in the hut. I will
care for him."
Charlie, Jack and Schoverling, with a single glance of amazement at the
words of the senseless Arab, advanced to the hut while the Indians
clustered about von Hofe. The shelter was a crude one, of bushes and
grass, built against the trunk of one of the great mimosas.
"There's a man in here!" cried Charlie as they stood in the doorway.
Before them, lying on a bed of leaves, was the figure of a man in
European clothes. His head, one arm, and side were bound in
blood-stained bandages. On his chest lay his right hand, still gripping
a pencil, while on his knees lay an old letter, scribbled over. With a
cry of pity, Schoverling knelt at the man's side--but started up again
in horror.
"Good heavens!" His voice rang with a note that struck Charlie's heart.
"It is Mowbray--dead!"
They pressed forward, and saw that the man was indeed dead. And Mowbray
it was--his cheeks fallen in, the bandage half-concealing his face, but
the iron chin locked grimly as ever in the last battle.
"Yes," said Jack softly. "He's dead, right enough. Must have passed out
not long ago, though. Let's see what that letter says, Chuck."
Charlie leaned over and picked up the paper sheets. The hut was
absolutely bare, save for an empty revolver that lay on the earthen
floor. With a shudder the boys emerged into the sunlight again, followed
by Schoverling. The wagon had not yet come up, and the doctor was
standing over the Arab. He turned at their approach.
"No use, mine friends. He iss dead--was ist das? A letter?"
He peered down at the paper in Charlie's hand. Without a word the boy
handed it to Schoverling. The wagons were just creeping through the
first trees, toward the water, and the Indians rushed off to restrain
the oxen from plunging into the stream.
"Come over here into the shade," said the explorer quietly. "Mowbray is
lying in there, Doctor, dead, and seemingly pretty badly wounded.
Perhaps these two sheets will throw some light on the situation."
They sat down around him beneath one of the big trees, and for a moment
there was dead silence as the explorer examined the scrawled writing on
the two sheets of paper and tattered envelope. Von Hofe nervously filled
his pipe, nearly dropping it in the attempt.
"He seems to have written this after he got to the hut here," began the
explorer. "It has no date and runs on in disconnected sentences." He
paused, a catch in his voice. After a moment he went on, with no further
sign of the emotion that must have possessed him.
"'Yesterday the camel died. Conscious but helpless. Arm, leg, ribs and
head broken. Five days travel, to south. Zahir hurt, but managed to drag
me to river and trees. I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, whence
cometh--'
"That's the first of it," said the explorer. At this moment Gholab
approached and saluted respectfully, his bearded face immobile. "Well,
what is it?"
"Does the sahib wish to outspan here?"
"Yes. Outspan and pitch camp for to-day. And, Gholab, have two graves
dug at the top of this little rise."
The Gurkha saluted and wheeled. Charlie caught an excited look from
Jack, and then gave his attention to the General once more.
"'Zahir has built a hut. Could get away but refuses. No cartridges in
revolver. Z. is cutting up camel. Tough but nourishing. Have hopes. If I
pull out will reward Z. for life.'
"That's the second bunch of sentences, written on the envelope. The next
seems to come on the back of the letter, and is addressed doubly."
The explorer swept his eye down the two dirty, torn papers, and then
read slowly:
"'To Selim ben Amoud or Louis Schoverling. Whoever finds, take to them.
"'Fever for two weeks. Camel gone bad, no cartridges. Zahir-ed-din ben
Yusuf has caught some mice for me and starved self. No hope left unless
L. S. comes. Am weaker, and Z. has fever.
"'In watchcase is plan of Selim's. Struck east from Lake Sugota with
camels. Had brush with British but shook them off. Into desert five days
full speed. Country deserted. Chain of small lakes, woods, hills as
indicated on plan. Deserted ruined huts, no natives. Found Lake Quilqua
to south of others.'"
"What!" cried Charlie. "Is that there, General? Is it--"
"You vill keep quiet, please!" rumbled von Hofe. Charlie subsided as the
General nodded. Jack said nothing, only his flushed cheeks and gleaming
eyes showing his eagerness.
"'Lake fed by hot springs. Water warm, very reedy. Crossed to island
fifty yards from shore. Found stronghold ruined, slave irons and
neck-rings, plenty of skeletons. Evidently place was swept by plague,
none escaping. Burned slave-barracoon and house. All very old--at least
ten years. Slavers' stronghold explains desolated country. Natives all
skipped or slaves.
"'Z. and I located big ivory cache under left gate-post. Went back to
camp for men, found dying Arab. Gigantic buffalo gored him. Rest gone
with camels. Big python showed up; all scared out. Found camel in trees
and stayed to look around. Stories true. Shot two buffalo--suggested
prehistoric type, great horns. Shot python, thirty-nine feet.
"'Guns safe. Third day found elephant spoor. Could hardly believe it.
Sighted and caught him by deserted native village. Rogue, fine trophy
for L. S. Biggest ever saw, must stand fourteen feet or better. Ivory
twelve feet. Z. game to tackle him, next day.
"'Rogue didn't wait. Tackled us before dawn. One foot came down through
tent, missed me by six inches. Rolled out and grabbed gun. Z. knocked
senseless. Fired once, but rogue placed trunk around me and threw me
twenty feet into bushes. Senseless.
"'Woke up to find rogue gone. Z. pulled me out of thorns and tied me up.
Badly smashed. Amputated left hand at wrist. Elephant had smashed guns,
with all he could find. Z. lost his nerve. Don't wonder. He caught the
camel unhurt. I told him to head south to find L. S. or natives, then
fainted again.
"'Don't remember much of what happened next. Z. says we rode bareback.
Held me in his arms all the way. Five days. No water or grub. Camel
died with river only hundred yards away, poor brute. That's all.'"
The explorer paused, trying to make out the last few lines, which seemed
almost illegible. Charlie stared, gulping down a sob at the bare recital
of that terrible journey. It was hard to realize that only a few weeks
ago he had seen and talked with the intrepid little man who lay cold in
death on his bed of leaves, and whose last words were being read to
them.
"This last is pretty faint," said Schoverling with expressionless voice.
"It's the last thing he wrote, and he seems to have failed at the end.
Here is what I can make out of it:
"'Z. knocked over a vulture two days ago from carcass of camel. Made him
take half, and he promised to go for help. Was too weak and came back.
I'm pretty near gone. If you get this, L. S., go kill that rogue for me.
Ivory worth while in cache. Feel cold to waist--must be going. Great
news for British, eh? Thank God I've lived a decent life, according to
my lights.'"
Schoverling's voice died away, and they knew he had reached the end.
Without another word the explorer rose to his feet, walked a few paces
and stood gazing over the river with his back toward them. Von Hofe,
sucking his unlighted pipe, made no secret of the tears that trickled
over his dusty blond beard. Charlie and Jack gazed at each other in awed
silence, for that last letter was very vivid and very real to them both.
"He ampudaded hiss own hand--ach!" said the big German huskily, at last.
At the words, Schoverling turned and came slowly back to them, his face
set and hard. Behind them the Masai were digging the graves under the
direction of Akram Das, and the oxen were splashing about in the shallow
silver thread of the river.
"Five days by camel--that would mean at least a week or ten days with
the wagons," said the explorer quietly, looking at von Hofe. The German
met the look and nodded.
"Yess. We shall do as he ordered."
"Do you mean that we are going to Lake Quilqua?" exclaimed Jack eagerly.
"We are, Jack. There is no reason why we should not bring back that
rogue. He's just the fellow we're after, as--as poor Mowbray said." His
voice shook a little. "If we'd only arrived a day or two sooner!"
"It can't be helped, General," returned Charlie softly. "We could not
know that he was here, and we might have done no good anyhow. Those last
words of his were fine."
"That letter will be framed, some day," said the explorer, "and it'll
hang where every man in the Explorer's Club will be proud of it. What a
fine fellow that Arab was, too! I'm heartsick to think that we failed to
save him."
"It was no use," von Hofe rose to his feet calmly. "It was starvation
and wounds. He was a good man, yes. My friends, we will bring that
rogue's skin back, and those others. What a triumph of science!"
"That letter said something 'bout there bein' a plan in his watch-case,
Gen'ral," spoke up Jack. Schoverling nodded, and turned to the hut. A
moment later he came out, a smashed and bent gold watch in his hand.
This they managed to pry open with a knife, and the explorer pulled out
a tiny, many-folded map of onion-skin paper. The tracings were made in a
brown ink, with marks that meant nothing to the boys.
"Arabic," explained Schoverling briefly. "Evidently it was supplied to
Mowbray by Selim ben Amoud. From what I can make out, it is a plan of
the chain of lakes Mowbray mentions. Here is one off by itself to the
south, named Quilqua. Well, this does us no good. Let's get down to
cases."
"One thing is sure," said Charlie as the explorer paused. "That is, that
our march will lie just about due north."
"Yes. Now, Mowbray speaks of an island with a slaver's stronghold. That
would account for the desolated country--that and the rogue elephant.
Probably some Arab settled down there years ago and ran off slaves until
he and all his men were swept out in one of the terrible and mysterious
plagues that sometimes sweep this country. That would explain the rumors
among the natives. Probably Selim heard the story and fancied the place
might be worth finding, so went into partnership with Mowbray. The
latter evidently found a good store of ivory planted away."
"I guess you've doped it out," said Charlie. "How long will we stay
here, General?"
"Two days. That will give the horses and cattle a good rest. The three
of us ought to bring in a lot of game, and we'll make some real
northwoods pemmican to take us on. First, let's see if the Masai will go
with us."
The explorer called to Bakari and the Masai leader came over grinning.
Slowly they explained what lay before them, the terrors of the
mysterious lake, and the desert journey, and asked if Bakari and ten of
his men would accompany them. The unabashed warrior grinned.
"Me go! Him men go, very fierce. No 'fraid."
Satisfied that he had understood, Schoverling dismissed him, and turned
to the boys.
"Pemmican for ten Masai and Bakari, us four, and three gun-bearers. The
rest will stay here. We'll take one wagon and six oxen; they can go for
two or three days without any water easily enough. We have one thing to
do before we go on the hunt, though."
What this duty was all knew well enough. The body of Mowbray was brought
out and sewed in the canvas of a spare tent; a small American flag
belonging to Schoverling was laid over him, and he was placed in one of
the graves. The faithful Zahir-ed-din was laid in the other. As the
story was told the Indians, they waited till von Hofe had recited the
Lord's Prayer over Mowbray, then Gholab Singh, Mohammedan like the other
Gurkhas, delivered a short prayer from the Koran over the Arab, and the
graves were filled in.
Charlie, Jack and the General scoured the plain that afternoon, bringing
in three eland and sending the Masai out after two zebra. On their
return they found that von Hofe had been at work, for over each grave
stood a cross of wood, rudely carved with the name of him beneath. Oddly
enough, the Mohammedans made no objection to the cross being placed over
the Arab.
"He was a good man," said the big Teuton softly. "It matters not that he
believed in Allah, for worse Christians I haf met, yes."
During the next day the game was cut up and smoked by Jack and Charlie,
the explorer and Guru bringing in enough fresh meat to keep them for two
or three days ahead. That night six of the rested oxen were inspanned to
one of the wagons, loaded with water-casks and what was left of their
yams and bananas. The spare Gurkha was left with his own rifle, an old
Snider, to provide meat for the little camp, and as the moon rose the
expedition pushed out across the river to the north--in search of Lake
Quilqua and the Rogue Elephant.