A SACRED DISGUISE
Before I got home I had ample time in which to think. What a strange
concatenation of events! The outlet discovered, deliverance almost
assured me, and then to find the camp of my bitterest enemy on the very
bank of my gateway to freedom! But that human voice—what could it mean?
I began to speculate and to reason from deduction. Inasmuch as I had
lost myself and been found by the red Missing Links, it was evident that
another man could have met with some accident which would have thrown
him in contact with the Blacks of the same family or species. The Reds
had treated me with marked consideration from the first, therefore the
Blacks might do the same for another of my kind. More than this, the
Blacks had manifested not only an extraordinary interest in myself, that
day when first I met them at the volcanic peak, but they had also
attempted to abduct me without injury to my body or feelings. I had made
them my foes by allying myself offensively and defensively with the
Reds, but they might not be savage to one who had not so given them
cause. Undoubtedly, I reasoned, they knew man and what he is and had
recognised me at once. They had desired also to possess me, an
inclination, I reasoned, which had resulted from association with this
other, mysterious man.
What manner of person was it they held as prisoner in their camp? How
long had they held him captive? To this latter question I mentally
answered that they had kept him several months at the least, since I had
been a considerable time with the Reds, myself, and they had apparently
become acquainted with my species before my arrival in the country. Then
about his capacity as a man, my thought ran quickly to the conclusion
that he must be weak or at least a man of no inventiveness and of no
particular inward resources. I arrived at this from two sources of
argument. First, he had obviously done nothing to arm his fellows, even
with primitive spears, or bows and arrows, to say nothing of never
having headed their hunting or fighting expeditions; and, second, he had
done nothing to escape, although he must have known that he was living
on the very edge of that great outflowing river, which should suggest to
his mind the sea beyond, as it had done to me.
Almost without considering anything, my first conclusion had been that I
must meet this partner-in-exile, enlist his services and make him my
comrade in escaping. Indeed I had been conscious of a great elation of
spirits, to think of such an encouraging piece of good fortune. Now,
however, when I was sure that he was neither bold, nor alert, nor
superior to circumstances, I doubted the wisdom of burdening myself with
such a companion, in the midst of my accumulated adversities. This last
selfish thought was hardly complete, however, before I banished it with
scorn, as utterly unworthy of any man in my position.
Perhaps the poor fellow had been shipwrecked, under conditions that
shattered his nerves; perhaps he was crippled, or otherwise disabled;
perhaps he had undergone severe illness; he might even have been an
invalid when captured; and it was always possible that the Blacks kept
him bound or so closely attended that action was rendered impossible. I
recalled then that his voice had not sounded strong. His recitation of
verses and conning over of words, I could understand precisely, for I
had done the same myself on many occasions. Whatever it was that made
him helpless, he was a fellow-being and certainly in more or less
distress. I felt my heart expanding toward him—my unknown partner! I
would see him, help him and take him with me—or die at his side,
fighting like a devil!
My plans, which had been nearly complete for my own escape, became
immediately most uncertain and scattered. It was not a matter now merely
of stocking the boat, securing my weapons and then proceeding down the
outflowing river, but of bearding the Blacks in their stronghold, seeing
this man and getting him away. Then would come the running of the
gauntlet past their camp on the river. The first proposition, that of
entering this village of the hostile Links and interviewing my
“partner,” loomed up, unsolved, for careful consideration. That the
fellows were keenly on the lookout, I had demonstrated fully; they had
seen me and sounded the alarm in a style truly masterful if not
admirable. That they thirsted somewhat for my unwilling gore, I had
precious small reason to doubt. If I got away with their captive and the
demons discovered who it was that engineered the feat, there would be a
warm jungle-region all about the lake.
How much could I count on the man I meant to assist? Not a great deal, I
feared, for he was probably incapacitated in some important manner.
However, he had doubtless superintended the hammering down of those
stakes I had seen in the river, which evidently meant some sort of
fishing operations, so that perhaps, after all, he was more inventive
than I had previously supposed. All the way up the lake, I racked my
brain for a suitable plan for invading the enemy’s camp. There were wild
ideas in plenty, but no one of these was practical or even worthy of a
moment’s consideration.
I gave up thinking, when at last the boat was secured on the beach,
knowing how far away my thoughts would be driven by the welcome of the
Links. All through my dinner, however, even with little Tike in my arms
and Fatty languishing about my feet, I was lost in pondering over the
doings of the day. That night, although I was weary, I tossed and rolled
uneasily, catching but snatches of sleep between the spells of being
vividly awake over my new discoveries and their attendant problems. Time
after time I awoke with a start, thinking I had solved the difficulty,
only to realise that my brain was indulging in the most fantastic of
workings. My whole being was dominated and occupied by this scheme of
uniting with that human prisoner on the river.
Sometime in the earliest hours of morning I sat up abruptly, having been
tortured by a sort of nightmare in which there was an inextricable
tangle of Links, alligators and bears. As before, this was intimately
connected with the man whom I intended to rescue from the Blacks, but
this time I got an idea out of the chaos and it fairly made me twitch,
so galvanically did it grip my whole nervous system.
I would visit the hostile camp in safety, because I would go as a bear.
A bear—yes, a sacred black bear! Those superstitious creatures should
worship my tracks and make themselves fools over my visit, while I spied
upon them, planned against them and robbed them of their captive! I
should be more than safe, more than free to come and go as I liked, more
respected than the general of the world’s greatest army.
Before attempting to get my plans in operation, I must kill a bear, skin
him and cure the hide. This preliminary business presented no
inconsiderable sum of difficulties, as I was thoroughly aware. “First
find your bear,” said the funny fellow in my brain. This part I thought
I could manage, for I had seen a bear in the neighbourhood of the place
where the one had appeared that morning after my fight with the
alligator. I thought him the same identical animal, which might
therefore abide in or about that quarter. But having secured my bruin’s
pelt, there remained the task of curing it,—a work which I must conduct
alone and away from camp, inasmuch as the Links would be horrified to
know that I had committed the deed on so sacred a beast.
There was no more sleep for me after thinking of this. At the first
suggestion of dawn I crept out, silently, avoided old Fatty, who was
curled down beside my door, and glided noiselessly down the hill, armed
with a club, my knife, bow and quiver of arrows. When I arrived at the
edge of the lake I went a little into the forest and dug some fresh
saltpetre. With this substance I intended to preserve the skin, for not
only are its properties well suited to the business, but I was denied
the use of our spring of brine by the presence of my bear-adoring
friends.
With my cargo of stuff thrown down in the end of the boat, I pushed away
from the bank and rowed slowly off toward a point around which I meant
to be concealed by the time the Links would begin to stir. The dawn was
breaking as I neared my destination, but I waited for full day-break
before attempting to go ashore. When at length the boat ran up on the
beach I was a mile from the swampy region in which the alligators had
proved themselves so numerous and hungry. A small clearing afforded an
adequate retreat, where I felt that I could operate without interruption
or likelihood of being observed.
With the club and quiver on my back, and the bow in hand, I forced my
way through a stubborn growth, coming presently upon the trail of some
jungle creature which had apparently broken this path for the purpose of
drinking at the lake. I had gone no more than several strides in this
beaten track when I nearly stepped upon a hooded snake. Though I jumped
back quickly and made ready with speed to hit the reptile with my club,
it glided away before I could fetch it a blow, escaping into a maze
where I own I dared not follow. Willing enough to let the creature
alone, if it would do the same by me, I went on my way. Then occurred
the thought, if only I could have killed it and poisoned my arrows, how
much better I should be armed for the bear.
Going back I thumped about for several minutes, looking for the venomous
serpent, yet dreading to see it. There was little danger of seeing that
particular snake again, so I once more resumed my journey. Having the
venom thought in mind, I decided to search for a serpent deliberately,
for the sake of its poison.
Snake hunting is not in my line. I kept an eye open and peered about in
likely places but the reptiles I saw were not the venomous kind and they
were often of the constricting variety, so that they and I had nothing
in common. I passed them by frequently, in haste to be about my
business. The whole morning was passed in this half-hearted search for
venom. In the early afternoon, having worked through a wide belt of
trees, I issued forth in the largest clearing I had seen since leaving
the boat. It was hardly more than fifty feet wide by one hundred long,
slightly swampish under foot and overrun with vines, gigantic flowering
plants and the rankest of grass.
At the edge of this place I had the luck to see the tail end of what I
thought to be a venomous snake. The reptile was nearly safe from harm
beneath a mass of interlocking creepers, yet I tried to get at him and
became so absorbed while poking about the brush that I clean forgot my
more important quest. In the midst of this dallying about, I left my
position to run around to the further side of the tangle, and found
myself confronted by the creature of all creatures which I regarded as
particularly mine—a bear as black as soot.
This animal was nosing about the trunk of a tree. He was only five or
six long strides away, paying no tribute of attention whatsoever to me
or my prowess. That he had seen me and heard me I could not possibly
doubt. I knew at once that the veneration in which he was held by the
Links grew out of this remarkable inoffensiveness and the grave, knowing
air with which the creature kept about its own concerns. I longed for a
well-poisoned arrow, but the time being inopportune for regrets, I
silently fitted my choicest shaft on the bow-string and stepped aside
for a better chance to shoot.
The bear rose partially up on its haunches, to investigate the tree,
presenting an open front, with a bit of white fur at the throat. With
this white for a target, I raised my weapon and drew the arrow to the
head. It leaped across the meagre distance like a flash of light and
quivered a second, buried deep in that snowy fur, which was dyed with
red before the creature could drop to a normal position on its feet.
I expected to hear a roar of rage, and then to be attacked forthwith by
the infuriated animal, but instead the bear made a sound almost human in
its vivid expression of agony. It staggered slightly and brushing at the
shaft with its paw, started away toward a thicket. Not to be cheated of
my pelt, I threw down the bow and dashed after the creature, club in
hand.
In a second or two I was almost on his back. He half turned about—and
met the descending club with his head. Simply moaning, this singular
animal shuddered down in its tracks, breathed heavily a moment and was
dead.
If I hunt till I kill a thousand creatures I shall never feel so guilty
of murder as I did to see this harmless bear lying motionless there in
the jungle. If only it had fought me, threatened my life, or shown
itself malignant, I could have done the deed cheerfully. If only the
creature had growled, or even torn up the grass, I should have felt a
bit of relief; but to see it die as I knew it had lived, unaggressive,
good-natured and retiring—this made me feel that I was the brute and the
wanton destroyer of life. Even dead, the animal accused me of lust for
blood.
“No,” I finally said to the body, aloud, “I would never have done this
merely for fun. I needed your skin,—hang it! there’s a human life at
stake and you ought to be glad!”
Fortunately I was easily consoled. I came to my senses in a
business-like manner. The skinning did much to remove the last vestige
of my sentimentality, for it was a tough, hot job. My knife was none too
sharp, despite its recent honing on a rock, and the bear was heavy to
turn. When at last I had the hide removed, with the feet and head left
on, I rolled the whole mass up and got it on my shoulder. It was heavy
and wet; I felt the need of haste, and therefore with my weapons duly
gathered together and so disposed as to cause me the least possible
inconvenience, I strode away.