BURT COMES TO LIFE
"Didn't know he was a V. C.," commented Burt, turning past the first
page. "Say most o' this is spoiled!"
The pages were many of them torn, all were smudged and streaked with
dirt, and ominous dark red stains covered a large portion of the
booklet.
"Here's the first place you can read," and Critch turned over a number
of unreadable pages. "Start in right here." Burt settled back and read
aloud as follows:
"'June 1st. Five men down. Yusuf cut off from supplies. Will rush
to-morrow.
"'June 2nd. Rushed. Lost thirteen. Finished Yusuf. Got lots of ivory,
unmounted yet. Read burial service this evening. Big loot to divide.'"
"That next you can't read, most of it," broke in Critch. "There's
something about Pongo, though." Burt nodded and continued:
"'--with odd bit of wood. May be some truth in it. Must investigate.
If the boys will have a go at it--'
"That's all, there," announced Burt. "All that's about the time he
cleaned up on the Arab caravan, eh? Let's see--there's five pages where
everything's mussed up."
"Looks like blood," laughed Critch, "but it ain't. That's the red stuff
the dwarfs use to stain their things with. See here, on this
spear-shaft. There's a lot comes next that he wrote after he set up in
Pongo's place--it was his left arm that was hurt, so he could write all
right. But you can't make out more'n a few scattered words. Turn to the
last page that's written on. There's where the big thing is."
Burt obeyed, turning over the pages rapidly. Most of the writing had
been obliterated or stained over, but although the final page was half
torn away, the remaining words were clear and legible.
"'Dec. 16th. Impossible to carry off the stuff. Must slip away while out
hunting if possible. Not much hope. River runs northwest. May find Arabs
or English traders to the east or north. Will find from Mbopo
whether--'
"And that's all," announced Burt, looking puzzled. "I don't see what you
mean by sayin' there's anything big there, though."
"Read it over again," suggested Critch with a grin. Burt did so, and
once more glanced up with a wondering look.
"You got me, Critch. What are you getting at, anyhow?"
"Don't you see?" cried his chum excitedly. "That part about the river
running northwest!"
"Well, what about it?" demanded Burt.
"Why, which way does the Makua run?"
"If I remember the map," replied Burt slowly, "it runs due west, joins
the Loangi, and meets up with the Congo on the way south. Oh, I see!" he
added suddenly. "You mean that this river out here runs up to the
Makua?"
"Brilliant!" exclaimed Critch sarcastically. "Why, it's got to, Burt!
That is, unless it switches off an' goes south. I don't believe it does,
though."
"That won't do us much good either," responded Burt. "These dwarfs don't
use boats, or Cap'n Mac would have gotten off that way."
"What do we want of boats?" demanded Critch. "After you're resurrected
I'll be the boss of this tribe for fair. I'll set them to work on a
raft, and away we go! If we hit the Makua we're bound to strike your
uncle and Cap'n Mac sooner or latter."
"Good for you!" cried Burt, staring at the other in wide-eyed
comprehension. "And we can carry off this whole blamed zareba that way,
with the _ankh_ too!"
"Not much we can't," and Critch shook his head. "We could get off with
the ivory, I s'pose, if Mbopo helps us. But not the _ankh_. That's their
real god, you know. I don't believe we'd dare try that."
"Well, it's getting on toward sunset," and Burt glanced at the sun, just
above the western tree tops. "You'd better chase back and get ready to
resurrect me. I ain't anxious to be around here after dark. What's the
program?"
"Why," replied Critch thoughtfully, "you keep hid till dark. As soon's
it gets good and dark, say eight o'clock, I'll lead out the mob. I don't
know just yet what I'll do, but I'll bring the mummy in here. You get a
hole dug to bury him in. Then I'll lead you out and can shake hands
with Pongo."
"With which?" exclaimed Burt.
"With the _ankh_--just lay your hand on him like Mbopo did," explained
Critch, laughing. "Stick that book of Cap'n Mac's in your pocket. If we
get out o' here he'd like to see it again, I reckon. So long."
"So long," answered Burt. "Don't keep me waitin' all night, now."
So Critch departed on his mission, while Burt lay back to think things
over. If it was true that the river near the village ran northwest, then
it almost certainly ran into the Makua, or a tributary of the Makua. In
that case they would be perfectly safe in floating down. There would be
dangers on the way, but by taking a few of the white dwarfs along Burt
realized that these would be greatly lessened. On the other hand, should
the river prove to turn and flow back toward the Aruwimi country, they
would probably miss the caravan altogether. In any case, their whole
future depended upon the issue of that night's "performance," as Burt
mentally styled his bringing to life.
The disappearance of the sun roused him to the fact that he had work to
do. Taking a spear and a broad-bladed sword from the weapons Critch had
left, Burt went inside the hut. Here he set to work energetically
digging the hole for the final resting place of Ta-En-User, the High
Priest of Maat. The tramped earthen floor was easily broken up by means
of the spear, and as the dusk settled down over the forest Burt finished
a shallow hole sufficient to hold the mummy.
"It's kind o' hard lines," he thought, wiping his dripping face as he
returned outside. "Here old Ta was wrapped up carefully three thousand
years back, meaning to lie quiet forever. He don't more than get
comfortably settled down when along come the white dwarfs to rouse him
up, and they carry him clear over here. Then he settles down once more,
and we come along and finish him. If he'd been buried right in the first
place--why, if they'd done things different three thousand years back
there wouldn't be any Pongo!"
Burt was roused from his rather intricate calculations by a particularly
savage mosquito settling on his ear. Having disposed of the insect,
Burt daubed his face and hands with what remained of the palm oil. Then
he beat down the grass at a spot where he could see between two of the
tusks and settled down to wait. He was uneasy at the idea that the lion
might return at any moment, and felt not the slightest temptation to
drop off to sleep.
The swift tropical night settled down over the forest, and soon Burt
could make out the glow of the village fires. After what seemed an age
he heard the sound of chanting mingled with the throb of the tom-toms.
This continued for half an hour, then ceased. A few moments later a
moving light appeared at the zareba gate, followed by others. Burt
guessed that these were torches, and knew that the time was at hand.
More and more torches poured out of the gate, until by their light Burt
could make out fairly well all that took place. It seemed that the
entire tribe was leaving the village. At the head of the procession
stalked Mbopo, with Critch beside him. Burt could see his chum carrying
something wrapped in a skin, and knew this was the mummy. Then came the
two brothers of Mbopo, carrying the golden _ankh_ between them on a
spear, while a third man bore the mummy-case. Behind marched the
bodyguard of the chief, the rest of the tribe following in a mob.
At the point where the boys had been left for the lion, halfway between
village and hut, the tribe was halted. Mbopo arranged the men and women
in a wide semicircle, evidently following the orders of Critch. The
"drum corps" was then brought to the front, the greater part of the
torches were extinguished, and Critch, Mbopo and the bearers of the
relics moved forward. Burt saw his chum stop at a point distant about a
hundred feet from the hut and directly in front of the gateway.
After a slight delay, a fire was lit here. This presently blazed up,
Critch wishing to wait until plenty of light was cast upon the sacred
objects and the gateway of the ivory zareba. At a signal from Mbopo the
tom-toms began a steady, regular beat and the pigmies broke into a low
chant that swelled at intervals until the echoes came back faintly from
the forest. Burt watched the scene through his loophole in silent
fascination. He had no fears as to its outcome, for the dwarfs were
plainly under the dominance of Critch.
Now the fire blazed up higher and higher. Burt saw his chum, whose
flaming hair glowed out in the ruddy light, suddenly raise his hand. The
drums and chanting stopped abruptly, and the dead silence that ensued
sent a quiver through the boy behind the ivory stockade. Critch bent
over, opened the skin bundle, and exposed the mummy to view. At this,
one prolonged groan went up from the audience and the crowd went down on
their faces, even Mbopo falling prostrate.
Moving a step forward, Critch faced the sacred hut and began to speak.
His voice came faintly at first, but as he gained confidence it rang
louder. The words came plainly to Burt. Critch first delivered all the
French he could think of, then broke into Antony's oration, which he had
learned at school the year before. Perhaps fearing that Mbopo might
comprehend too much of this, Critch switched off abruptly and delivered
a complete conjugation of the Latin verb "habeo," speaking slowly and
distinctly in as deep a voice as he could assume.
Burt was doubled up in silent laughter, and he saw his chum pause at
times as though struggling to repress his feelings also. But his face
was away from the pigmies, and his voice remained firm enough. Burt
could well imagine the effect produced by all this mummery upon the
ignorant and highly superstitious pigmies, ridiculous as it might appear
to him.
Finally Critch ran out of words, it seemed, for he stopped suddenly. The
firelight gleamed on hundreds of eyes behind his figure, and Burt
wondered vaguely what would happen if the waiting tribe should by any
chance see through their trickery. The thought made him collect all his
forces, and at this moment Critch stooped again. Picking up the mummy,
he touched it to the golden _ankh_.
At the action a ripple of sound rose from the pigmies, followed by what
was almost a wail of fear as Critch straightened up, the mummy in his
arms, and began walking slowly toward the sacred hut. Burt knew it was
time to get inside, so he slipped in through the hole made by the lion,
the doorway being in view of the crowd. A moment later the form of
Critch darkened the entrance.
"Fine work!" whispered Burt. He was answered by a sigh of relief.
"Take Ta, will you? I'm all in." Critch sank weakly down, and with some
repugnance Burt caught the mummy. Placing it in the hole, he filled in
the earth, tramped it down, and sprinkled leaves and bones over the
place. "Say," went on his chum, "that may have sounded funny to you, but
it was something fierce!"
"Never mind," murmured Burt. "You did it mighty fine, old man."
"It was awful to think what'd happen if I made a slip," confessed
Critch. "Honest, Burt, I was so weak-kneed I could hardly walk over
here! How you coming?"
"He's buried," responded Burt as he finished his task. "Do we go out
now?"
"No use keeping them waitin'," said Critch. "I'm goin' to leave the
_ankh_ and the mummy-case in here for good. Are you ready? Give me a
hand."
Burt helped his chum to his feet. Critch stepped into the doorway,
holding Burt's hand. Then began a slow and solemn advance across the
firelit space before the hut. As the figures of the two boys came into
sight of the pigmies, an indescribable murmur of awe swept from the
crowd. Then came a prolonged groan of unutterable horror as Burt's face
stood out more clearly, and Burt, whose gaze was fixed on Mbopo, saw the
pigmy chief go down in the dust, his extended hands trembling in the
firelight. A moment more and the boys stood beside the _ankh_.
Releasing Burt's hand, Critch caught the loop of the symbol of Maat and
stood it on end. Then Burt placed his hand on it beside that of Critch.
At this a click, seemingly of joy, arose from the crowd. Mbopo looked
up, his face ashen gray, and wild amazement in his eyes.
Critch now beckoned the two brothers forward, and at his repeated
gestures they trembling took up the _ankh_ on the spear and awaited his
further commands.
"Take one end o' the case," directed Critch. Burt obeyed, and the two
boys led the way back to the hut. No sooner had they deposited the
_ankh_ than Burt chanced to touch one of the pigmies in the dark. The
man gave a terrific shriek and dashed through the doorway, followed by
his brother. For a moment a wild fear clutched Burt. What if the mob
imagined that they were hurting the two men? The boys hurried out, and
found the men prostrate beside Mbopo. Critch raised them up and Burt,
needing no instruction, smilingly touched each of the shrinking men in
turn. Finding that they suffered nothing, their fear gradually lessened,
and as Mbopo grasped the hand of Burt there was a look of joy in the
honest eyes of the young dwarf that told far more than any words could
have done.
Then Critch led the way to the village. The crowd, still prostrate,
separated to let them through. Ten minutes later the boys lay side by
side on a heap of skins in a hut, too much overcome by the strain to
even speak. But as Burt fell asleep, he knew that they had won the
fight.