THE MARK OF PONGO
The folding tubs they all used were more like little canvas rooms, open
at the top. The crew of their launch consisted of two Bantus. One of
these helped John fill the tub by the simple method of standing on a
chair and pouring water on the head of the occupant of the tiny chamber
after his clothes had been thrown out.
The boys were watching the proceedings and intended to follow the
captain's example. As he finished he told the Bantu boy to hand him his
clothes and stretched out an arm through the slit in the canvas walls.
As it happened, this opening faced the boys.
The Bantu held up the bundle of clothes. As Captain Montenay took them
the boys saw the black recoil suddenly and sink to his knees with a low
groan, his face gray. Burt immediately leaped to his feet and caught the
Bantu but the latter thrust him away and staggered back to the engine.
Here he sank on a locker and buried his face in his knees.
"Well I'll be jiggered!" exclaimed Burt half angrily. "What's the matter
with him?" He was about to call his uncle who was up under the forward
awning when Critch caught his arm.
"Shut up!" the red-haired boy whispered excitedly. "Come over here."
When they reached the rail he turned on Burt. "Didn't you see it, you
chump? What's the matter with you, anyway?"
"Me?" gasped Burt, bewildered by this sudden attack. "Say--"
"Thought you saw it sure," interrupted his chum hurriedly. "Didn't you
see Cap'n Mac's arm?"
"No," returned Burt shortly. "Like any other arm, ain't it? I was
lookin' at the sick nigger."
"Sick nothin'," retorted Critch. "Cap'n Mac's got a shoulder on him
enough to scare a cat! When he shoved the canvas back I could see it all
twisted up an' dead white, with a big red scar on the corner o' the
shoulder. That nigger wasn't sick--he was scared!"
"Scared!" Burt stared at Critch and then turned to look at the Bantu boy
crouched on the locker. "Golly! Mebbe he is! Say, what was the scar
like?"
"Looked to me like a cross but I didn't see it well. Come on, we'll ask
the coon. He talks French some."
They stopped beside the Bantu. The second black was sitting in the bow
at the wheel and had noticed nothing. Critch took the black by the
shoulder and gave him a shake, while Burt addressed him in French.
"Wake up, boy! What scared you?"
The Bantu gave one terrified shudder and his eyes were rolling wildly as
his head came up "Pongo! L'embleme de Pon--" he began with a frightened
gasp and then stopped. His face resumed its normally blank expression
and he glanced around quickly.
"What's Pongo?" questioned Burt. "What do you mean by the sign of
Pongo?"
"No savvy, m'sieu, no savvy." The Bantu shook his head and absolutely
refused to say another word in spite of threats and commands.
"Come on," said Critch disgustedly. "He's wise to something but he
won't let on. There's Cap'n Mac. Shut up."
They rejoined the captain and Mr. Wallace in the bow. Evidently the
Scotchman had neither seen nor heard anything unusual, for he at once
plunged into discussing plans with Mr. Wallace.
"Look here," he said finally. "I can't give up that cook o' yours,
Wallace! Ye've got a good Scots name too. S'pose we make one party?"
"One party!" exclaimed Mr. Wallace. "I thought you were going more to
the east?"
"Aye, but I ain't over parteec'lar. Mind, I'm no sayin' I'll go clear to
the Makua wi' ye, but I may."
"Here's John with the dinner," said Mr. Wallace. "We'll talk it over
while we eat. Looks mighty good to me, Montenay! I'd like you to go with
us if you will."
"Hello, what's this stuff?" cried Burt as he leaned over his bowl and
sniffed suspiciously. John stood by with a triumphant grin.
"Smells good," commented Critch. Captain Mac, as they had come to call
him, winked at Mr. Wallace.
"It's vera good for fever," he said solemnly. "They make it out o'
chopped snakes an' nigger bones."
The boys looked up in dismay but were reassured by Mr. Wallace's smile
and John's ever present grin. Burt put the question to the latter.
"Palm-oil chop, sar! Chicken chop-chop, palm-oil, peppers, hother t'ings
halso, sar. Hit be good."
The boys cautiously sampled the concoction and found it to be new but
not unpleasant. Before they had been in the country another week they
were vociferously demanding palm-oil chop from John every day. The
launch tied up at a plantation dock for the night and at daylight
proceeded on her way.
"Hello!" exclaimed Critch as he emerged from the tiny cabin for
breakfast. "That's funny! Thought it was in my outside pocket."
"What's bitin' you?" asked Burt with a rather sickly smile. He also was
fishing in his pockets.
"My compass--it's gone!"
"Same here," confessed Burt after a moment. "I'll be jiggered! My coin's
all right!"
"What's the matter?" inquired Mr. Wallace. He was just coming out and
behind him was Captain Mac. The boys explained their strange loss and
Montenay frowned.
"That's queer," he said thoughtfully. "Mine's safe. How's yours,
Wallace?"
"Here." Mr. Wallace produced his own silver-set compass from an inner
pocket. "You've probably dropped 'em around the cabin, boys."
The two turned and vanished hastily but reappeared shaking their heads.
The missing instruments were not to be found on board, although a
thorough search was made of the launch and men.
"Na doot they were stolen," said Captain Mac as they sat at breakfast.
"These blacks will steal anythin' that ain't nailed down, an' they were
prowlin' all about last night. Well, we'll get new ones at Makupa from
the trader when we get there to-night."
"It's decidedly queer, Montenay!" Mr. Wallace looked out over the river
with a perplexed frown. "Why should these two compasses vanish, when
nothing else in the cabin was touched? I don't like it."
"Ye know what ju-ju is, o' course?" Captain Mac leaned back easily in
his chair as the American explorer nodded. "The Bantus think compasses
are ju-ju."
"What's that?" asked Critch.
"Anything they don't understand and that savors of witchcraft or mystery
is ju-ju," explained Mr. Wallace. "In that case, Montenay, our compasses
will be looked upon as the gods of a Bantu village, eh?"
"Aye. Let's get our business done with, Wallace." Montenay deftly rolled
himself a quinine capsule and swallowed it. "What d'ye say? Shall we
combine or no?"
"I don't see why we shouldn't," returned Mr. Wallace thoughtfully.
"We're both after ivory. One caravan will cut down expenses for each of
us. You're not sure about making the Makua with us?"
"Well," replied the other slowly with a sharp glance at Mr. Wallace,
"I'm no sure yet. There's some mighty queer country north o' here that
I'd like to have a look at. Mind, I'm no promisin' anythin' whatever.
I'll be free to come an' go."
"Of course," answered Mr. Wallace. "Then it's agreed, Captain! We'll
leave Makupa together in the morning."
"Vera good. Now I'll be lookin' after a letter or so under the awnin'
aft where the shakin' ain't so strong." Montenay rose and strolled aft
and was immediately absorbed in his traveling writing-case. Mr. Wallace
gazed after him reflectively.
"There's a curious man, boys! We're in luck to have him along. There
probably aren't a dozen men in Africa who haven't heard of him and there
probably aren't a dozen who know him outside of officials. He always
travels alone. If he strikes in at Zanzibar or Nairobi he's likely to
come out at Cairo or the Cape."
"Strikes me as a good sport," agreed Burt heartily. "He don't say much
but I'd hate to monkey with him when he gets mad. Say! Ever hear o'
Pongo, Uncle George?"
"Pongo?" repeated the explorer as he stared hard at Burt. "Pongo? No,
don't think I have. What is it?"
The boys explained what had taken place the previous afternoon but to
their surprise Mr. Wallace frowned disapproval. "Whatever it is, boys,
it's his business. If you'll look at his arm you'll see a dozen scars. I
have a few myself. That's where a native chief cuts a gash in his arm
and ours, the cuts are rubbed together and we are then termed
'blood-brothers.' It may have been some such mark that scared the black
boy."
"No it wasn't," asserted Critch positively. "It looked like a cross.
Wasn't cut either. Looked like a burn more than anything else."
"Then forget it," commanded Mr. Wallace decisively. "It's none of our
business. I must say that Montenay's mighty indefinite though. He says
he's after ivory and wants to have a look at the country. But if I know
anything he's not worrying about ivory this trip."
"Why not?" asked Burt. "D'you mean he's lying?"
"Lying is a strong term, Burt!" smiled his uncle. "It's not a nice word
to use either. No, I think he's keeping us in the dark about his own
projects. Probably he has some new animal or some new tribe he wants to
be sure of getting all the credit for discovering. Naturally he wouldn't
want to run any risk of our cutting in on him."
Just then the subject of their discussion rejoined them and the topic
was changed. On up the river they went all that day while the big
canoes followed closely with the paddling-chants of the men rising from
time to time. The breeze created by their motion relieved them of the
clouds of mosquitoes and other insects but the heat was so great that it
even affected John to some extent.
Just before sunset they reached the Makupa station. This consisted of a
large native village dominated by the State trading post, a corrugated
iron building whose whitewashed walls contrasted strongly with the palm
thatched huts of the blacks all around. The trader met them at the
landing and proved to be a Belgian, pleasant and courteous in every way.
They spent the night here. In the morning they were up before daybreak
and Mr. Wallace mentioned the compasses as they were dressing. At that
moment Burt was speaking to Captain Montenay, and he saw a peculiar
light flash into the little explorer's face when his uncle spoke. That
look puzzled Burt somewhat. He was still more puzzled when Montenay
rushed through his dressing and hurried from the room. The sudden change
in the man had evidently been caused by his uncle's words, but Burt
could not see any connection whatever.
When they entered the lamp-lit dining room for breakfast they found the
agent and Captain Mac together. The former sprang up and greeted them
effusively, hastily stuffing something into his pocket that looked to
Burt like banknotes. Still, the boy remembered his uncle's words of the
day before and made up his mind not to bother about other people's
affairs.
"Oh, the compasses!" ejaculated Mr. Wallace as the black boys brought in
fruit and coffee. "Lieutenant, we lost two compasses coming up the
river. It would be a great assistance if you would sell us a couple from
your stores."
"Alas!" An expression of dismay rose to the Belgian's face and he spread
out his hands helplessly. "My friend, I am grieved deeply to have to
inform you that we have none! A trading party came down the river last
week and completely cleaned me out, even to my own instrument. I am
desolated, my heart is torn, but it is impossible!"
A sudden suspicion flashed across Burt's mind but as he glanced sharply
at Captain Mac he dismissed it. Montenay was the picture of dismay, but
to all their suggestions and queries the Belgian only returned a
"desolated" shrug.
"Well, never mind." Mr. Wallace smiled at Montenay in resignation. "We
still have ours. Two should be enough. Now make a good breakfast, boys!
We eat from chop-boxes after this."
With sunrise the caravan started north from the station. The river
bottom was low but Captain Mac asserted that after a day's journey they
would find themselves on the higher plains, and this proved quite true.
On the second day they entered the great forests and left behind the
half-civilized tribes. As they drew up to the top of a hill-crest that
rose among the trees Critch caught Burt's arm and pointed ahead to where
the jungle thinned out.
"There we are, ol' sport! Look at 'em, just look at 'em!"
And Burt saw through his glasses a number of black groups of animals,
grazing and moving slowly about.
"What are they, Uncle George?" he cried in high excitement to Mr.
Wallace who was also looking through his glasses.
"Hartebeest, bushbuck and antelope," replied the explorer calmly. "If
I'm not mistaken there's a rhino in that patch of bush about two miles
to the right--see it? John, O John! Get those gun-boys on deck, will
you?"