JACK WORKS FAST
Thereupon the four white men together with the medicine man and the
interpreter put their heads together, with what result will
presently be seen. And at length the Wizard Mfum-ba, after first
poking an opening in the straw wall with a finger and peering out,
parted the thatch sufficiently to permit him to slip out the way he
had come.
“Well, things are looking up,” said Jack. “But one thing puzzles me.
Just one little thing. Did you all notice that out there in the
square, whenever the old fellow spoke, his words were preceded by a
peculiar rattling sound, a sound which caused a look of awe to
appear on the faces of many of his hearers?”
“Oh, that nothing,” said the interpreter, with the superiority of a
man who has come in contact with civilizing influences and has lost
his awe of home town ways. “Him carry li’l bag, made of skin,
underneath him robe, filled with pebbles. When him want to fool
somebody him rattle bag and say spirits talk. My uncle,” he added,
“him medicine man, too.”
At this naive remark, his auditors laughed heartily.
“Well, now, if there’s anything to that medicine man, Chief Namla is
due to appear,” said Mr. Ransome.
And scarcely had the words been uttered than one of the guards
putting his head inside the doorway announced the chief wanted them
in the square.
“So far so good,” said Mr. Hampton, rising with alacrity. “Mfum-ba
has made good on one promise, anyway.”
Then he added: “Bring your camera, Niellsen, and come along. Jack,
I’ll send your radio stuff in by bearer. Remember, my lad,
everything really depends on you. But take no unnecessary risks.”
“All right. Dad,” said Jack, in a reassuring tone. “Leave it to me.”
They went out, and in a few moments a bearer entered the hut with
the two small cases containing the cabinet receiving set and aerial
and the loudspeaker. Putting them down he, too, retired. Jack was
again alone. But not for long.
He could hear voices in the grassy square outside. And peering
through the doorway, he noted with satisfaction that the bearers had
shifted position as if casually, so that now they stood in two
groups, one of which effectively screened the doorway of the hut
while the other blocked the alleyway alongside, between guest house
and The Prophet’s hut beyond.
Things were working out according to schedule.
When he turned around, there stood the Wizard Mfum-ba, hand
outstretched to pluck him by a shirt sleeve to attract his
attention. This, too, was according to plan, and well-pleased with
the way things were going, Jack nodded. Then he picked up the two
small cases, and, one under each arm, followed Mfum-ba through the
parted thatch of the rear wall.
Beyond some twenty paces and stretching for a considerable distance
on either hand lay an eight-foot-high wattled wall, surrounding the
yard of Chief Narnia’s abode. Jack looked up and down the space
intervening but it was deserted. He listened. From the square came
the sound of Mr. Ransome’s voice upraised in speech. And as it
ceased, the hum of many voices filled with uncontrollable amazement
succeeded.
But he must make the most of his opportunity. And already Mfum-ba
had darted away from his side with surprising speed for one so aged,
and stood at the rear of the adjacent hut, which Jack knew was
inhabited by the mysterious individual known as The Prophet.
Immediately at the rear of this hut and towering above it rose a
spreading tree of luxuriant foliage, a forest giant which had
wandered down into the plain.
Mfum-ba beckoned impatiently, and Jack delaying no longer ran to
join him. As he crossed the open alleyway between the huts, he gazed
toward the square. But his view of it was cut off by the dense mass
of bearers at the mouth of the alley, and so he knew that anybody
looking in could not see him, either.
“Working like clock work,” he thought.
To scale the tree was an easy matter. And putting down his two
cases, Jack in a trice was in the lower branches. Then Mfum-ba
handed up the case containing the radio receiving set and aerial, as
Jack indicated. Mounting into the tree, which closed about him,
concealing him completely, Jack carried the insulated wire of the
aerial to the top. Pausing only in conclusion for a hasty glance
through the branches toward the square, a glance which told him
nothing. Descending, he placed the receiving cabinet in a crotch
which had caught his eye as he passed, and where it rested as
securely as if in a place especially made for it.
Working at top speed, Jack yet was careful that everything should be
put in proper order. And when he had finished, he dropped lightly to
the ground. The alley between the huts and the wattled wall was
still deserted. And from the sounds reaching him from the direction
of the square, Jack surmised his father and the latter’s companions
were successfully keeping the populace engaged.
Between him and Mfum-ba not a word had so far passed, for neither
could have understood the other’s tongue. But gestures were more
eloquent than words. Mfum-ba parting the grass thatch at the rear of
The Prophet’s hut, as he had parted that of the guest house, stepped
within, one skinny, claw-like black hand left behind and beckoning
Jack on. Jack set his teeth, for the most dangerous part of his task
yet remained. Then he, too, entered the hut by this novel method,
pushing ahead of him the case containing the loudspeaker.
The hut was empty save for Mfum-ba and himself. But curious though
he was to discover something regarding the identity of this
mysterious individual who inhabited it, Jack after a hasty glance
around which took in the floor pallet, a writing case upon which lay
a sheet of paper filled with fine writing in German script (that
much he did note), and a small box in one corner, proceeded to his
task.
That was to fasten the loudspeaker in the roof of the hut, so that
the trumpet was on the outside but concealed by a light covering of
straw. When it had been arranged to his satisfaction, and he felt
certain it would stay in position and would not be discovered except
by direct search, Jack poked the coil of wire with which to connect
it to the receiving set out of the roof so that it rolled down and
dropped into the alley at the rear.
Then, listening a moment to assure himself that the crowd in the
square outside was still engaged, he indicated by signs to Mfum-ba,
who stood near the doorway, alternately peering into the square and
up at him, that his task was finished. And parting the thatch of the
rear wall, he stepped out with Mfum-ba at his heels.
Then came the first upset in his schedule, which so far had gone
along precisely as planned. For as Jack stepped through the thatch,
he saw a tall Negro passing through the alley at the rear pause not
a yard away from him and stare open-mouthed as if at an apparition.
If the fellow gave the alarm, all would be lost. As this reflection
flashed through his brain, Jack became desperate. Was all his effort
to go for nought, because a chance passer-by discovered him at that
crucial moment? Not if he could avoid it.
With panther-like swiftness Jack leaped toward the Negro, and his
right fist shot out and caught him beneath the ear with stunning
force. The black toppled over without a sound, and Jack caught him
in his arms as he fell. Mfum-ba stood behind him, wringing his
hands, at this unexpected catastrophe. But the next second the old
wizard’s face became wreathed in fury, and whipping a knife from his
cotton robe he would have plunged it into the heart of the poor
fellow had Jack not dropped his unconscious burden and seized the
wizard’s upraised arm with a powerful grip.
Jack was almost frantic. Here he had an unconscious man on his
hands, who, as soon as he returned to his senses, would give the
alarm. And he had to deal with Mfum-ba or the latter would knife the
Negro without compunction. To make matters worse, his task was not
yet completed. The loudspeaker had still to be connected with the
receiving set.
Turning the man over, Jack tied his hands behind his back with his
own belt, for the naked warrior had none which could be employed for
that purpose. Then he seized him beneath the armpits and dragged him
to the rear of the guest house, where, parting the thatch, he
tumbled him inside. Running to the doorway, he pulled one of the
bearers standing outside with his back turned, watching events in
the square, within, and indicated he should keep guard over the
bound man.
Then again he pushed through the thatched wall, saw by a hasty
glance that Mfum-ba was alone, and, picking up the wire which had
fallen down from the roof of The Prophet’s hut, he shinned back up
the tree and connected it with the receiving set. Again he dropped
to the ground and pulling Mfum-ba with him re-entered the guest
house without discovery.
The bearer looked at him with lively curiosity, the bound warrior
who had opened his eyes with the deepest respect mingled with fear,
and Mfum-ba with stupefaction. But Jack wasn’t caring who stared at
him, or how. He had never worked so fast nor so furiously in his
life, nor ever under such an impulse of fear. Throwing himself flat
on his back he lay with eyes closed, resting, until his father’s
voice aroused him when, opening his eyes, he sat up.
“Where did this fellow come from, Jack? And did you manage it?”
asked Mr. Hampton anxiously.
“I’ll say I did,” said Jack, and he explained what he had been
through.
“What happened to you?” he asked. “Did things work out as planned?”
“Exactly as planned,” said Mr. Hampton, while Mr. Ransome and
Niellsen who stood behind Mr. Hampton nodded.
Then he explained that when summoned to the square they had found
Chief Namla already there, surrounded by a big crowd of his people.
In fact, everybody in the place was on hand, made curious to hear
what the chief’s answer to the white men’s strange request would be.
“The chief asked us to show him our machine, as Mfum-ba had prompted
him,” continued Mr. Hampton. “So Niellsen set it up and let him look
into the range-finder. When he saw reflected there every hut,
distant volcano or warrior close at hand, at which Niellsen directed
the camera, he was stupefied. That was what we had expected. And so
we invited his chief men to step up and have a look. The crowd
became more and more excited.
“Then we told the chief we had a communication from the Great Spirit
of the white man to deliver.” He paused, glancing at Mr. Ransome. “I
thought you did that rather well, Ransome,” he said, smiling. “Of
course, I don’t know just what hash the interpreter made of your
remarks. But at any rate, they got across.”
Mr. Ransome nodded.
“The Prophet was brought from his hut to face us,” he said. And he
laughed heartily, as if at some humorous recollection. “You could
never imagine what he is, Jack,” he said, “so I’ll tell you. Of
course, I can’t be sure. But I believe he is one of these soured
German professors, a man who doesn’t know the Great War ended years
ago. In his warped mind there is only one thought uppermost. And
that is that Germany was martyred in the war, that all the world was
against her without reason, and that he must obtain revenge. I think
he is a little crazy.”
“At any rate, he scorned us. ‘Pigs, you think to scare me,’ he said.
‘It is you who shall pay with your lives.’ Nevertheless, I think he
was impressed at our promise to make the Great Spirit speak from the
air at 8 o’clock tonight. And he’ll be outside to listen. And so
will everybody else in the place.”