MONTENAY RETURNS
"We ought to provide Mvita with a new robe," suggested Burt with a grin.
"He saved my life all right back there, whether he meant to or not."
"A few yards of cloth will fix him," returned his uncle, as they started
off with the chief and his men. "You'd better carry your big guns now
yourselves. No telling what will happen."
One of the villagers led them forward at a brisk pace, straight onward
for about a mile. They were now almost in the jungle, the open spaces
and higher ground seeming to end abruptly with a small stream which they
passed. Mvita's men were spread out in a wide circle, for the elephant
herd had finally been located, and once the beaters got around them the
animals would scent them and come up-wind toward the hunters.
Presently they came upon the elephant spoor, or trail--a wide swath
ripped through the heavy undergrowth by the passage of the big animals.
To one side of this Mr. Wallace and the boys took their stand, hiding
amid the bushes.
"Let them pass us," cautioned the explorer, "and when you have a clear
shoulder-shot, make it fatal the first time. You take the first,
Critch--"
He was cut short by a yell that arose ahead. This was followed by a loud
trumpeting as the frightened animals crashed away from the beaters. Burt
paled as he thought of what might happen should the elephants burst upon
them through the jungle instead of following their own trail, but he had
little time for reflection. Even as the thought came to him the first
elephant appeared with a shrill trumpet of rage, his trunk flung high
and his wide ears flapping forward. Behind him came more of the dim,
gigantic shapes, and the boys pulled up their guns.
Not ten feet from them, the first elephant thundered past, the others
crowding close upon him. Critch waited until he was sure of his shot,
and then sent the first beast reeling into the opposite side of the
trail with the force of his bullet. Almost instantly Burt fired at the
second elephant, striking him just behind the shoulder. The others
stopped for a second, giving Mr. Wallace a chance for a fine shot, then
smashed into the jungle and were gone.
"Hurray!" yelled Critch, leaping to his feet. "Mine's down!"
"So's mine," shouted Burt eagerly, gazing at the motionless form of the
elephant, who had staggered and sunk into the grass at once.
"Come on," cried his uncle as the first of the natives appeared, "I hit
mine badly, and he can't be far away."
Mvita came up on the run as they started, and all broke into the jungle
on the trail of the wounded elephant, John carrying the spare guns. Only
a hundred yards away they came upon their quarry. The elephant, mortally
wounded, was standing beneath a large tree, half-hidden among the
foliage. They could see him swaying from side to side, and just as Mr.
Wallace was circling around for a finishing shot the huge bulk crashed
down and lay still.
"Ain't it pretty near time to eat?" inquired Critch, after they had
inspected the body.
"Just about," answered Mr. Wallace. "Where will we make camp, John?"
"By de river, sar," was the reply, and John was busied at once with
orders to Mvita and the natives, who had brought along a chop-box. The
three elephants killed were all bulls, that of Mr. Wallace having only
one tusk. While the ivory was being cut out and the bodies being
dissected by the natives, who would make a grand feast that night, the
three whites returned to the small stream which had been crossed half an
hour before.
John had found a small spring of clear, sweet water near some high
ground on the west bank. Opposite, there was a long stretch of marshy,
low ground that gave upon the jungle proper. On their camping side,
however, this fever-threatening swamp was entirely absent.
Before an hour had passed the three were sitting around their folding
canvas table, doing full honor to the forest delicacies furnished by
John and his assistants. More of the villagers trooped up to share in
the elephant meat, until it seemed to the boys that the entire village
was present. Suddenly Burt, who was sitting facing the stream, gave a
startled exclamation and pointed to the low ground opposite.
"What's that, Uncle George?"
Turning in their seats, the others saw the top of the high marsh-grass
waving as if some creature were forcing its way along. John, who had
over-heard the question, brought up the rifles at once but Mr. Wallace
waved him back and took out his glasses.
"I don't know, Burt. Doesn't show up yet. It'd hardly be any animal, for
we are up-wind and he would scent us. It might be a crocodile, although
in that case he would not make so much commotion. What do you think,
John?"
The gigantic negro took the glasses and gazed long and earnestly at the
faint movement in the grass, which seemed to be coming toward the river.
Then he returned them with a shrug.
"Not know, sar."
"Tell Mvita to send over some of his boys and find out," suggested
Critch. Mr. Wallace nodded and John was off instantly. A moment later a
dozen natives started crossing the stream, advancing cautiously, for
they too had been puzzled and were taking no chances. Before they had
reached the opposite bank Critch gave a cry.
"Look there! It's coming out!"
Through their glasses they could see a dark object crossing one of the
more open spaces. Its method of progression was peculiar, because while
it was undoubtedly coming toward the river, it seemed to be rising and
falling, floundering in the marsh-mud, and at times lying motionless on
the grass-hummocks.
"It's a man!" exclaimed Burt in amazement. Critch uttered a scornful
denial, but Mr. Wallace slowly nodded.
"I believe it is," he asserted. "I thought I could make out arms and
legs but I wasn't sure. If it is a man, he must be in a mighty bad fix."
A sudden idea occurred to Burt and he glanced at his chum. Critch met
his eye and read the unspoken thought. When Burt raised his glasses
again his face was white.
Now the natives were surrounding the strange figure, and a moment later
one of them waved his spear. The others could be seen lifting the
creature, whatever it was, and speedily carried him to the river.
"Come along," and Mr. Wallace rose hastily. "We'll go down and meet
them. If it's a man he'll need help. John, did you bring the small
medicine case?"
"Here, sar," and as if by magic the grinning black produced the required
object. They all hurried down to the river, where the villagers were
already crowding around in great curiosity. The little band of natives
splashed across the stream, and suddenly Burt felt his uncle grip his
arm.
"Burt!" and he had never before heard such tense horror in a man's
voice. "Go up and get some water boiling right away! Hurry, lad, hurry!"
Without pausing to ask questions Burt dashed off. As he went he could
hear his uncle continuing. "John, make for the camp right away. Get out
bandages, have hot water, make the hypodermics ready and mix some strong
morphia and anti-toxin solution. That is Captain Montenay." John was off
at a run instantly.
The last words struck Burt like a blow. With pale face he got the water
heating, and met his uncle as the latter ordered the senseless form of
Captain Mac set down. The explorer was unrecognizable. He was plastered
with mud from head to foot and his whole body was swelled and poisoned
until he bore small resemblance to a man. Mr. Wallace gave a glance
around, then shook his head.
"We can do nothing here. Boys, we'll have to work to save him. Looks to
me like black wasp stings." Turning to Mvita, he ordered Montenay's body
carried to the village at top speed. Instantly four natives caught up
the senseless figure and made off at a lope.
Mr. Wallace and the boys dropped everything and followed. When they
reached the camp after a hard march they found John bathing the swollen
body of Captain Mac, and Mr. Wallace went to work at once with the
medicines that lay ready. With the mud and dirt removed, Montenay's
horrible condition only became more evident. Mr. Wallace went to work
with the hypodermic while the boys aided John to cleanse the explorer's
body, then handed the syringe to John to clean and turned to the
bandages and lint.
The countless stings were washed with a weak solution of ammonia to take
out the poison, and an hour later they left the Scotchman a mass of
bandages but sleeping soundly.
"I gave him some morphia," explained Mr. Wallace as they washed up
outside. "What he needs first is sleep. He must have been in absolute
agony in there."
It was after sunset before Captain Mac wakened from his sleep. The boys
were at his side immediately, followed by Mr. Wallace.
"Well," cried the latter heartily, "how's the sick man now? Feel a bit
better?"
"Gi' me a drink," whispered the other feebly. When he had taken a long
draught from Burt's canteen he sank back with a satisfied sigh. "Where'd
ye find me?"
"Down by the river," answered Mr. Wallace. "Feel able to talk?" Montenay
nodded and fixed his eyes on the American. "I suppose the pigmies got
after your men?"
"Into 'em's more like it," returned Captain Mac. "Didn't see one of 'em.
Just arrows--arrows--arrows, day an' night." He paused for breath. "What
day's this?"
"Friday," said Critch. "We found you this morning."
"Wednesday it was," went on Montenay as he gained strength slowly. "Last
six men went in a bunch. Pulled off my shirt an' yelled 'Pongo.' Tried
to talk to the deevils but they wouldn't show up. Started on alone an'
they shot arrows all around me. Didn't dare hit me, I guess. So I came
back."
"Two days," mused Mr. Wallace. "You certainly looked nice when we found
you!"
"It was the black wasps," said the other. "I fell into a nest that night
an' it nigh finished me."
"Come along, boys," returned Mr. Wallace as he arose. "You get to sleep
again, Montenay. You'll be more fit in the morning."
They adjusted the mosquito curtains for the night and returned to find
dinner waiting for them. After dining sumptuously on eland tongue and
hartebeest tenderloin Burt pushed back his canvas chair with a sigh of
content.
"I s'pose we'll work up toward the Makua pretty quick, won't we?" he
asked his uncle.
"You bet we will," replied the latter fervently. "Just as soon as
Captain Mac's able to navigate. That'll be two or three days anyway. We
have a nice little bunch of ivory and we'll get more in by trading as we
go along. Mvita has four more tusks to bring in too."
"That ivory zareba'd mean a good bunch o' money, wouldn't it?" put in
Critch. "I'd hate to go through what Cap'n Mac has, though."
"By the way," said Mr. Wallace, "don't use all those chop-boxes. I want
a couple of zebra and giraffe skins. We'll get 'em farther north on our
way up."
"Mvita told me this morning," said Burt, "that there was some giraffe
about five miles to the northeast of here. Why couldn't we get 'em and
have a skin fixed by the time Cap'n Mac's ready to march?"
"We'd save time that way, but I don't want to leave him," returned his
uncle thoughtfully. "However, I might send you two out with John. I'd
trust him anywhere."
"Go ahead!" pleaded Critch excitedly. "That'd be great, Mr. Wallace!"
"John!" called the explorer with a smile. "If I send you out after
giraffe in the morning with these boys, will you take good care of 'em?"
"Sure, sar!" grinned the big Liberian cheerfully. "John him be beri
careful. Bring back safe!"
"All right. Get your stuff ready then. You can take my big rifle
yourself." As John went off with a wider grin than ever Mr. Wallace
turned to the boys. "I want you two to promise me that whatever happens
you'll obey John and do just as he tells you."
"All right, sir," replied Critch at once.
"So'll I," agreed Burt. "Five miles in this country won't be any joke,
though!"
"It'll take a good day right enough," nodded Mr. Wallace. "John is
pretty safe to be with and he'll take as good care of you as I would. If
you find the giraffes don't bring down more than two. You might run
across some zebra in the same country and if you do, you can get some of
'em too. But I guess there's not much danger of that, without horses.
"Now remember to obey John in everything. He'll be in my place for the
day. Better fill your canteens with cold coffee before you go and take
your heavy rifles. Let John have your compass, Burt. If you run across
any waterbuck bring in a couple for the men. It'll be a good change of
diet. Now get to sleep, for you'll be up before day."
After laying out a supply of heavy cartridges and some fresh clothes for
the morning the boys tumbled into their sleeping bags on top of their
cots. Each leg of the cots was placed in a dish of water to keep off
ants and other crawling creatures which might wander in. Critch was half
asleep when he heard Burt's voice.
"Oh, Critch! Remember what Cap'n Mac looked like coming across that
swamp?"
"Shut up! I don't want to dream about it."
"I was just thinkin' that we'll stick pretty close to John to-morrow,
eh?"
"You bet your life we will! Go to sleep."
It was their last sleep in the comfortable tent for many a night.