For some moments Harry Urquhart did not move. He sat like a graven
image, his eyes staring, his jaw dropped in amazement. Then the full
truth burst upon him in a flood. He sprang to his feet, uttering a loud
cry which immediately awoke both Braid and Peter Klein.
"What is it?" cried Braid. "What has happened?"
Harry seized his comrade by the shoulders and shook him violently.
"Tell me, Jim, have I gone mad, or has a miracle happened? Look there!"
Braid looked in the direction indicated, and saw, to his amazement, that
their prison doors were opened, that the stone had been rolled away from
the circular hole in the roof.
By that time Fernando had got to his feet. He came swaying towards
them, and clutched hold of Jim’s arm for support. Perhaps the climate
of the Coast had weakened his constitution. At any rate, he was now far
weaker than the others—even than Klein.
"We are saved!" he cried. "But beware of treachery. For all we know
the Black Dog may be hiding at the entrance."
Harry cared nothing for that. A sense of freedom, a breath of mountain
air, were worth all the risk in the world. He scrambled up, caught hold
of the edge of the hole, and with great difficulty managed to pull
himself through, so that he stood in the light of the stars, amid the
mists that wrapped the mountain.
At his feet lay a still, dark form. It was that of a human being, but
so motionless that the boy feared that it was that of a dead man. Going
down upon his knees, he turned the body over, so that the face was
uplifted to the moon; and at once he recognized the features of Cortes,
the younger guide, who had gone out to slay the sheikh.
He spoke to the man, but received no answer. Then he rushed to a spring
that was near by and quenched his burning thirst.
There he was joined by Jim Braid and Peter Klein. Both went down upon
their knees at the spring-side to drink their fill.
After that they assisted the elder guide to escape from the terrible
prison in which they had spent so many days. They sprinkled water upon
the lips of the younger man, and at last he opened his eyes.
"We thought you dead," said Harry. "Tell us what happened to you?"
"I went my way, dressed in the clothes of that cur, to trick the Black
Dog of the Cameroons. Knowing the man with whom I had to deal, I was
cautious and on my guard.
"I approached so silently that not even a lizard could have taken alarm.
Then I saw the man waiting for me on the mountain-side. He was dressed
in his white Arab robes; he was seated on a boulder, with his rifle on
his knees.
"I considered what was best to do. I had intended to show up at a
distance, pretending that I was the German. Then I remembered that if
the sheikh fired I would assuredly be hit. In the end I decided to
creep upon him unawares, to snatch his rifle from his hands. With a man
like the Black Dog it is best to strike the first blow, and also to
strike hard.
"How he saw me I cannot say. His eyes are like those of a lynx. But he
discovered me and fired, and I was wounded. The bullet pierced my
chest. For a moment I think I was unconscious, for when I opened my
eyes the sheikh himself was kneeling over me, looking into my face. He
recognized me, and called me by my name.
"Without doubt he thought I was dying. Indeed, he left me to die. He
went his way up the mountain. Presently I heard a shot, and a little
after the Black Dog came past me, running as if for life. When he was
quite close to me I saw that there was blood upon his robes and that he
was running after the manner of one who suffers pain and is wounded. How
that happened I do not know. At the time I thought little about it. I
did not doubt that I myself stood at the door of death.
"I fainted, and when I recovered consciousness I was consumed by a
terrible thirst. Fever raged in my bones. With great difficulty I
managed to drag myself to the side of a spring, where I drank great
draughts of water. After that I fell asleep; and for the next three
days I lay in that place, thinking that I was dying, frequently drinking
at the stream. I could not walk, for whenever I tried to rise to my
feet there was a pain in my chest like a red-hot sword, and I came near
to fainting.
"One night I thought of my brother and my friends, and then it was that
I remembered that you were unable to escape from your prison.
"Ever since then I have been struggling up the side of the mountain,
endeavouring to get to you to rescue you. Every minute I thought that I
was dying; sometimes I was so weak that I felt I could go no farther.
Yet every day I made a little progress. I followed the direction of the
stream. I drank the water, and ate wild berries, as well as the
provisions I carried with me.
"I reached the stone; I remember rolling it away, and after that I
remember no more."
The narration of this story was too much for the man’s strength. As he
said the last words he fell backward in a faint.
For the rest of the night they camped in the open air, sleeping around a
fire. They remained upon the mountain-top for four days. The German
troops had evidently left the district, and though Harry and Jim hunted
in the valley, and succeeded in shooting some guinea-fowl, they saw no
signs of von Hardenberg and the sheikh, who had evidently pushed forward
on their way towards Maziriland and the Caves of Zoroaster.
It is remarkable how quickly they were completely restored to health.
Food and water and the freshness of the mountain air lent their
assistance to Nature; and even Cortes, who had been so severely wounded,
rapidly regained his strength. Indeed the wound was already healed, and
all he required was nourishment and rest.
When they were able to continue their journey, they decided to advance
with the greatest caution. A few miles farther on they would come to a
long valley, two hundred miles in length, which led directly towards the
frontier of Maziriland. Cortes knew of a path that ran along the
crest-line of the mountains, whence they would be able to survey the
surrounding country except such as was hidden by the density of the
bush. If they followed this there would be small chance of their being
taken by surprise, either by the Germans or von Hardenberg and the
sheikh.
At first they marched by easy stages, in order not to overtax their
strength. This part of the mountain was inhabited by a great number of
rock-rabbits, many of which they were able to kill with sticks; and
these rabbits soon found their way into the cooking-pot.
By degrees they made their daily marches longer. They were anxious to
overtake Captain von Hardenberg and the Black Dog, who were evidently
several miles in advance. Finally they marched by night, the guides
taking a direct route by the stars.
Suddenly, one midnight, as they rounded a great spur of rock, they saw a
small light, dim and twinkling in the distance like a star, far below
them in the valley.
"Look there!" cried Harry, pointing ahead.
"Is it a camp-fire?" asked Braid, turning to the two guides, who stood
together.
Both bowed their heads.
"It is a camp-fire," said Fernando. "It is the camp-fire of the Black
Dog of the Cameroons."