SURPRISED IN CAMP BY A STRANGE ENEMY.
The victim’s body had not ceased to sway back and forth with the motion
of the tree before the savages discovered the presence of a stranger.
Trim’s first feeling had been that he would prevent that execution, but
he saw he was too late, at the same time that he saw that he had been
observed. He therefore walked calmly forward, as if he was familiar with
the place and had no fear of the savages.
His boldness served him a good turn, for if he had made a hostile
movement the savages undoubtedly would have fallen upon him at once and
made an end of him.
As it was three or four of them armed with spears strolled out from the
circle around the fire and confronted him.
Trim halted at once and remarked quietly:
“I wish to speak with the king.”
The warriors looked at him in astonishment. One of them turned about and
said something to the king, who motioned with his hand toward the group
at the fire.
At this signal another man left the group, came forward and addressed
Trim in broken English.
“What you want?” he asked.
“I am a traveler,” Trim replied, “and I came to your village because I
saw the light of the fire. I should like to buy food and pay my respects
to the mighty king of the Bangwas.”
The interpreter translated this speech to the king, who thought a moment,
made a reply, and walked into his hut.
“His majesty,” said the interpreter, “wishes you to come in.”
The warriors stood aside and Trim advanced to the king’s house. It was
nothing more than a shanty such as no western miner would have put up
with.
The king was seated on the ground. Trim remained standing while the
interpreter came in and stood at his side.
For a moment the king looked Trim over, scowling, and then spoke to the
interpreter, who translated.
“His majesty say you very young and that more white men must be with you
somewhere.”
“That is true,” Trim responded.
The king then asked what Trim was there for, and he answered much as he
had in the case of the other savages who had questioned him. He concluded
by promising the king valuable presents for food.
Of course Trim needed no provisions, but this way seemed to be the best
for getting on good terms with the tribe.
The king thought a long time and at length said, through the interpreter:
“You saw the execution?”
Trim admitted this.
“You intend to tell the English people about it,” remarked the king.
Trim saw that the king was very much disturbed and he understood the
reason.
The English who control that part of Africa try to make the savages live
according to civilized laws. The king believed that if a description of
this execution should be given to the English there would be trouble for
him and his tribe.
Trim was thinking fast in order to find out what to say that should cause
the king to be less suspicious, when a warrior hastily entered the hut,
knelt before the king and spoke rapidly.
The king was evidently greatly interested.
He glanced at Trim with more curiosity than ever, and at length said,
through the interpreter:
“I know now why you are here. You’re going to make war on the Narugas.”
“I don’t intend to harm any black man or any black tribe,” responded Trim.
“It doesn’t matter,” retorted the king, “you are an enemy to the Narugas.”
He then gave a command which was not translated, but Trim understood it
well enough when two warriors entered the hut, took him by the shoulders
and ran him rapidly out to the fire.
The boy made no resistance, but he was on the alert for he knew that
trouble was coming.
He was left at the edge of the fire while all the savages who had been
standing there withdrew to one side.
The two warriors who had rushed him to the spot then took up their
positions in front of the king’s house, while one of them took a bow that
was hanging on the wall of the hut, and selected an arrow from a quiver
that leaned beside it.
“Tell the king,” said Trim to the interpreter, who appeared in the
door of the hut, “that I know what he intends to do. Tell him that the
Bangwas’ arrows cannot hurt me!”
This remark was translated to the king, who merely grunted and evidently
gave a command to the warriors, one of whom raised the bow and aimed the
arrow directly at Trim.
The boy stood still, apparently not alarmed, and watched the savage as he
took careful aim.
A moment later there was a twang as the savage let go the string and an
arrow shot forward. At that instant Trim raised his right arm suddenly.
There was a loud report, and the arrow, broken in two, fell harmlessly
mid-way between him and the savage who had shot it.
A cry of wonder went up from the crowd.
They had not seen the weapon which Trim had fired, but they had seen the
flash that seemed to come from his empty hand.
They saw him now standing as before at the edge of the fire with both
hands at his sides.
The king got up and stood at the door of his hut looking on with as much
wonder as the rest of them.
“It would be just as well,” thought Trim, “to sneak out of this while
they are paralyzed with surprise, because they might jab one of those
poisoned arrows into me while I’m not looking.”
So he said aloud:
“The king made a mistake in trying to kill me. I shall return now to my
people. If you let me alone I shall not harm you, but if you try to kill
me I shall come again with my people and death will leap from both my
hands.”
Saying this he raised his arm again quickly, and fired one of the
concealed revolvers in such a way that the bullet broke the point of a
spear that was held by a warrior near the king’s house.
This time the savages drew back, muttering with more astonishment.
Trim walked slowly toward the river and as he went the savages were
careful to get out of his way.
As soon as he arrived at the edge of the underbrush he went quickly in
among the small trees for fear that if he continued down the open stretch
arrows might be sent after him from behind.
Once among the trees he turned around and looked back at the fire. He saw
the savages still standing motionless with surprise.
The boy watched them for a moment wondering what they would do and was
about to start on again when he saw all the savages turn their heads
toward the further side of the fire.
Immediately after that they all knelt and a moment later a man came
striding into view, who in spite of the darkness Trim recognized as a
white man.
“Ah!” thought Trim. “Perhaps I shall learn something here, after all.”
The white man spoke in a loud voice so that Trim caught his words.
“What was that shot?” he said.
Trim then saw the king and the interpreter approach the white man and
answer him.
Their words could not be distinguished, and when the white man spoke
again he lowered his voice.
Trim could see that the white man made a quick movement of surprise, and
turned his head in the direction of the river.
“I’ll bet a string of glass beads, old chap,” said Trim to himself, “that
you’re wondering who I am and where I am.
“Great Scott! Suppose this fellow should be King Mulvey himself! What a
snap it would be to disable him with just one little pistol shot and run
him back to Kimberley as a prisoner.
“That wouldn’t do, though. Miller is the man I’m after, and besides
Mulvey there are four others who are wanted in Kimberley, and I shan’t
feel that I’ve kept up my reputation if I don’t succeed in bringing them
all back.
“No, Mulvey, if that’s your name, I shall have to let you go for the
present, but I’ll see you later, or I’m no American.”
Trim watched the scene until the white man withdrew into the darkness
beyond the fire and the savages went to their huts.
The boy was sorely tempted to make an attempt at the capture of the white
man.
“I could talk with him,” he thought, “and with him in my possession there
would be more chance of my getting at the rest of his gang unobserved.”
He stood up and looked around him. It was a dark night, but just beyond
the village he could see the outlines of steep hills. They were without
doubt thickly wooded.
“It would be a mighty foolish thing to do,” he concluded, “to try for
that man in the night, and in a strange woods, and without the slightest
idea of where he is going.
“No, the best thing will be to stick to the other course.”
So he turned to the river and came at length to his own camp.
Early in the morning Trim was aroused by the sounds of his men making
ready for departure.
He opened his eyes long enough to give orders for all to breakfast on
shore, and to awaken him again when they were ready to start.
Then he turned over and the next second was sound asleep again.
Dobbin looked after the arrangements. He had just finished his own
breakfast and was preparing to help drive the donkeys on to the raft when
his attention was attracted by a strange sound at a distance.
All the others listened also.
“It’s an elephant,” said one of the blacks.
“Never heard an elephant trumpet like that before,” replied Dobbin,
doubtfully.
“It’s an elephant, though,” insisted the black, slapping one of the
donkeys and driving him hurriedly onto the raft.
“We’d better get aboard as soon as possible.”
“May be no danger,” remarked another black.
The first black shook his head.
“That elephant has must.”
“Must what?” asked Dobbin.
The blacks then explained to him that _must_ is the word for a strange
madness that sometimes attacks elephants. They then become like maniacs
and destroy everything that comes in their way.
At such times elephants are the most dangerous animals in the world.
One of the blacks ran to the top of a low knoll near the river’s edge and
immediately hurried back crying:
“It’s a big bull and he’s coming straight for this spot.”
“By Jove! Yes!” cried one of the white employees. “You can tell by the
marks around here that this is an elephant’s ford. They are in the habit
of coming here, and we are in their way.”
The men hustled the donkeys on to the rafts and one was pushed off from
shore with most of the party aboard.
Dobbin ran up to Trim, who was sleeping peacefully, and shook him.
“Wake up, lad!” he cried, hastily. “They say there’s an insane elephant
making for ee.”
“A what?” demanded Trim, sleepily.
“There’s an elephant amuck, lad. Stir your steps or he’ll stamp on ee.”
Even then there came the sound of furious trumpeting just over the knoll
beyond the camp.
Trim had read enough about elephants to know that when they are troubled
with this madness it is well to be out of their way, and seeing that
everything was ready for departure he jumped up and hurried to the raft.
Half a dozen blacks were on board with poles ready to push the raft into
mid stream.
Just as Trim landed he discovered that his pocket spyglass which often
proved of use to him, had slipped from his pocket and was back on the
bank.
“Push out!” he cried, as he leaped again for shore. “I’ll be after you in
a minute.”
“Lord bless ee, lad!” cried Dobbin, in terror. “Don’t do that. Come back!”
Then seeing that Trim was determined to go back to the camp, which was
but a few yards away, Dobbin also made an effort to get on the land. The
men on the raft held him back.
“I’ll be all right!” shouted Trim.
He dashed to the spot where he had been lying, picked up his spyglass and
started back to the raft.
Just as he was stooping to pick up the glass the elephant appeared over
the brow of the knoll. He was trumpeting madly and swinging his trunk
from side to side.
Trim’s foot caught in a vine as he neared the water’s edge and he fell
full length. The elephant saw him and he came tearing down the slope
after him.
“Lord save us!” cried Dobbin. “He’ll stamp the poor lad’s life out!”
Trim was on his feet in an instant, and facing the giant beast.
He drew his revolver, although he knew how poor a weapon it was in
fighting such an animal.
A pistol bullet could not do more than pierce the tough skin of the
creature. Nevertheless, he shot and his hand was never steadier or his
nerves cooler.
The elephant rose on his hind legs, trumpeting with pain. Trim had put
out one of his eyes.
The lad then thought that he could make for the raft, but in his fall he
had got to the edge of the river where there was deep, thick mud.
He knew that he could not leap across it, and if he attempted to walk
across he would get stuck there.
There was nothing for it but that he must run up the shore a few paces to
a point where the ground was harder at the water’s edge.
This kept him directly in front of the enraged elephant, but the risk had
to be taken.
He would have fired at the elephant’s other eye if he could have had an
opportunity to aim at it. The great beast was raging about and swinging
his trunk so that there was no getting a mark of any kind that would be
useful.
The elephant’s trunk happened to crash against a tree that grew near the
bank. Instantly the elephant coiled his trunk about the tree and with a
mighty wrench tore it roots and all from the ground and hurled it aside.
This would have been Trim’s opportunity if it had not been that the tree
in being thrown by the elephant brushed against him and knocked him over.
Dobbin and the blacks upon the raft were watching the scene in helpless
terror.
The elephant then evidently got his well eye on Trim, for he bounded
forward with his trunk upraised. He brought it down just as Trim was
struggling to his feet.
“I’m not going to let you step on me, you brute!” thought Trim,
desperately, as he threw both arms about the elephant’s trunk.
The boy had not a very clear idea of what he could do by this, but he
felt that it gave him his only chance to keep out from under the giant
animal’s feet.
The elephant bellowed and pranced about wildly. He coiled his trunk
around Trim, who did not need to hang on, for it held him fast and raised
him high up into the air.
The blacks on the raft fell upon their knees and put their faces in their
hands.
They were perfectly certain of what would happen. The elephant intended
to dash Trim to the ground with such force that every bone in his body
would be broken.
He held the boy poised in air for an instant, just as a ball player
sometimes holds the ball in his hand at arm’s length before he throws;
then he swayed his trunk backward and forward more and more each time.
Finally, with another terrific roar he whirled the trunk back as far as
he could and then let it shoot forward.
Trim had kept his eyes open during all this, and his mind was at work
as rapidly and clearly as ever. He, too, realized what the insane beast
wanted to do.
Just as the trunk began to shoot forward he fired his revolver into the
finger-like end of the trunk.
The flesh there is soft and sensitive.
The elephant’s roar changed to a snort of pain, the grip of the trunk
was released, and Trim, instead of being hurled down to the ground, shot
outward from the swaying trunk, flew through the air not less than forty
feet and fell into the river.
He prepared himself for the dive as he went, and consequently struck the
water in such a way that the breath was not knocked out of him.
He went under, but came up again almost at once, as gracefully as if he
had dived from a plank into a mill pond.
“Push out from shore, you frightened chumps!” he shouted, “and take me
aboard.”
The blacks on the raft, amazed at hearing his voice behind them, when
they supposed that he was being dashed to pieces upon the ground, jumped
to their poles and pushed out.
A moment later Trim climbed on board and laid hold of the poles with
them, for he thought it still possible that the elephant might pursue and
as long as there was shallow water the big beast might make things hot
for them.
The big beast evidently had enough of it, however. He stood on the bank,
raising his huge feet up and down, swinging his trunk, and trumpeting
loudly.
The men on the rafts got into mid stream, where the water was deep, and
then allowed the current to push them on.
The last they saw of the elephant he had waded into the river and
crouched down there apparently trying to ease his wounded eye and trunk
by holding them under water.