THE RAFT
When he wakened, it was hard for Burt to realize where he was. He stared
up at the thatched roof above him and gradually collected his thoughts.
A shiver swept over him as he recollected what had occurred the
preceding night. He sat up, and saw Critch still asleep beside him. It
appeared to be broad daylight outside, and he roused his chum at once.
Critch rolled over and sprang to his feet, then stood blinking around
with so puzzled an expression that Burt went into a shout of laughter.
"What's the matter?" he gasped.
"I was dreaming that old Ta was having a scrap with me," confessed his
chum sheepishly. "He threw the _ankh_ at me and just then Pongo come
along and jumped him. Both of 'em rolled over on me and I woke up."
"Say, was last night all a dream?" asked Burt, soberly, as he stared at
his chum. "Or did we really put it over--"
"You bet we did!" cried Critch with a grin of recollection. "No dream
about that, old man. We've only been here two days, but we've done a
heap of things. Now we got to finish the lion. Then we can see about
getting off."
"I'm not anxious to monkey with Pongo," stated Burt. "However, we might
send out Mbopo to trail him. I'll take him over to the hut if you'll get
some breakfast fixed up."
"I'm on," exclaimed Critch. Upon leaving the hut, the two boys found
themselves objects of awed veneration from the pigmies. They met Mbopo,
and Burt took him out to the sacred hut. Here he described the fight
with Pongo in detail, not mentioning when it occurred and purposely
leaving the dwarf rather confused. There could be no such doubt about
the struggle itself, however, and Mbopo nodded understandingly.
They then left the ivory zareba while Mbopo made a cast around the place
for the lion's trail. Burt accompanied him, and Mbopo soon uttered a
shout of excitement. Running to his side, Burt saw the beaten spot in
the tall grass where the lion must have alighted from his last leap over
the ivory zareba after having been wounded. There was a speck or two
of dried blood in evidence, and Mbopo found more blood farther on, as
well as a clearly defined trail. The excited pigmy was for following it
up at once, but Burt held him back. By dint of much patience he made
Mbopo understand that Critch, whom the pigmies called "Mwanzi," or
"Red-head," must accompany them, as well as some warriors. Burt had had
one experience with a wounded lion and he intended to take no chances
this time.
The two returned to the village where Mbopo shouted forth his news, and
Burt was instantly the center of an excited mob. He pushed through them,
however, and found Critch with breakfast ready. Over the meal they
discussed the matter of the lion, and decided to start out at once.
"Mebbe they'll go without waitin' for us," suggested Burt, glancing at
the chattering crowd of warriors around the young chief. Critch shook
his head.
"Not much. They ain't got the nerve. They'll do whatever we tell 'em,
but they won't leave us out o' the game, take it from me."
As soon as they had finished, the boys joined Mbopo. Their first object
was a search for weapons. Critch suggested taking two of the spears,
whose blades were over a foot long and keen as a razor, but Burt
objected.
"We don't know how to use them," he said. "Let's see; didn't Cap'n Mac
say something about trade-guns?"
"Mebbe he did," assented Critch, "but I haven't seen any sign of guns
around here. Let's ask Mbopo."
They tried to make the young chief understand, but without success.
Thereupon the boys took matters into their own hands, and began a search
among the largest huts. This was presently rewarded by the finding of an
old Snider, wrapped in tarpaulin. There were three cartridges in the
magazine, but no more. These were displayed to Mbopo, but he stated that
there were no more weapons of the kind in the village.
"Well, she seems to be in pretty fair shape," remarked Burt, squinting
down the barrel of the rifle. "Get some palm oil, Critch. Three bullets
ought to do."
"Don't catch me around when you fire that thing," sniffed his chum
disgustedly. "She's liable to bust. I'll bet she's twenty years old."
"Better'n a spear at that," chuckled Burt, oiling the rifle until it
worked perfectly. "We ain't so badly off, Critch. There, I guess that'll
do. Ready?"
Critch armed himself with one of the spears, and at the head of twenty
picked warriors they left the village. Mbopo led the way to the spoor
already found, and Critch at once ordered the pigmy warriors to follow
it up.
"Let 'em take the chances," he grinned. "They ain't scared now I'm
along. If they find Pongo you can finish him with the gun--unless the
gun finishes you."
"You're sore because you didn't find the gun yourself," retorted Burt.
"Come on, they're quite a ways ahead."
The pigmies had started at once along the spoor of the lion, spreading
out on either side and calling to one another continually. The boys
followed more carefully with Mbopo. The spoor led them through the long
rank grass into the forest, and was easy for the boys to read.
The lion had made only one leap after leaving the zareba. This had taken
him almost across the grassy space. Upon reaching the first thicket he
had crawled along and left a plain blood-marked trail for the hunters to
follow. A hundred yards farther on they heard a shrill yell from ahead,
and hurried on.
Emerging from the thicket, they found the pigmies clustered about a
clump of thorn-bushes. These were almost impenetrable save by the trail
left by the lion. The pigmies reported to Mbopo, who turned to Critch.
"Him Pongo in there," he stated, pointing to the bushes with a grin.
"Mwanzi kill? Vera good!"
Critch hesitated. He glanced at the waiting pigmies, who evidently had
not the slightest intention of robbing him of the honor of going first.
"Come on," he muttered to Burt. "We got to pull the bluff through right
here. Have your gun ready."
Burt nodded. The two boys, their hearts beating fast, advanced to the
edge of the thicket. No sound came from the bushes, and Burt thrust the
first branches aside as he entered. The thorns made sad havoc with their
clothes, but the boys were too anxious to heed this. A moment later Burt
gave a startled exclamation. Critch came to his side, and the boys saw
a tawny shape lying ahead of them.
"Is he dead?" whispered Critch.
"Can't see him plain enough," responded Burt. "If he jumps and I don't
stop him, try to catch him on the spear."
A few steps farther on and the lion came into full view. He was lying on
his side, stretched out, and something black hid his head. Burt levelled
the gun, but as he did so the black object resolved itself into a swarm
of flies, who buzzed up at the noise made by the boys.
"Hurray!" shouted Burt, flinging down the gun, "he's dead!"
"Look at the axe!" yelled his chum, pointing to the weapon that was
almost buried in the skull of the beast. "Golly, you must have hit like
fury! Hey, Mbopo!"
The pigmies were not far behind the boys, and at the shout they came
dashing forward. A shrill yell went up as they saw the dead lion, then
all remained silent and motionless, gazing down at the form of the beast
which they had worshipped for so long. That he was blind could be easily
made out, for the white scar ran across his eyes, which were not
pleasant to see. Burt turned away with a shudder.
"Leave Mbopo to skin him, Critch. I'm goin' back where it's cool."
His chum nodded, directed Mbopo to skin the lion and followed Burt back
to the shade of the hut. There the two boys settled down for a talk.
"We got nothing to worry over now," remarked Critch, "except the getting
away. How'll we keep the skin of Pongo?"
"Let Mbopo do that," replied Burt. "They can fix it so it'll keep long
enough to get down the river with anyhow." He suddenly sat up. "Say,
building that raft is going to be some job! Let's have a look at the
river."
"Come on," and Critch sprang to his feet. "If we do get off, Burt, let's
take a collection o' these pigmy weapons. Wouldn't they be swell in our
rooms at home?"
"Right now I'd take the rooms without anything at all in 'em," grinned
Burt, who was fast recovering his spirits in the fresh morning air. A
few moments later they reached the village, which stood on the river
bank, and descended by a well-worn path to the edge of the stream.
"There's some big trees growin' handy," announced Critch. "How'll we
make it?" Burt thought a moment.
"Why," he replied slowly, "take four big logs an' lash 'em in a square.
Then put four on top o' them, with a platform. That ought to float
pretty high even with a good load. Guess we'll have to make two rafts,
though. We couldn't carry any men an' that ivory on one, 'less we made
it almighty big."
"The river wouldn't stand for a very big one," suggested Critch. "Go an'
get a bunch o' the men, Burt. We might as well pitch in right now."
Burt nodded and returned up the path, leaving Critch to inspect the
trees growing at the edge of the river. He returned with a score of men,
all of whom brought their little axes. They looked wonderingly at the
two boys.
"Here's a good tree," declared Critch, pointing to one about two feet
through. "We'll take an axe an' show 'em how to do it."
Shedding their upper garments, for the place was by no means cool, the
boys fell to work on the tree. The pigmies comprehended at once, and
also went to work on three other trees picked out by the boys. The
latter, having started things satisfactorily, flung themselves down in
the shade and directed operations.
When the first tree was about to fall, they showed the dwarfs how to
make it fall toward the stream, so that it lay half in the water. There
seemed to be no crocodiles in the river, the men splashing about without
fear. Then Burt took a spear and measured a straight section of the
trunk for three spear-lengths, or fifteen feet. While Critch saw that
this was lopped and cut rightly, Burt visited the other workers.
All this, however, was not done in a few moments. The axes of the
pigmies were keen, but they were also very small. No sooner had the work
begun than the whole tribe came down from the village to look on with
wondering interest, and Mbopo shortly after arrived also.
It was well into the afternoon before the four trees were down, and not
until noon of the next day were they cut into the proper lengths and
trimmed. Finally, however, the logs lay end to end in the shape of a
square, in the shallow water. Burt now explained to Mbopo that these
were to be fastened together. The young chief comprehended at once, and
with strips of tough hides had the first part of the raft completed by
nightfall.
The abundance of help lightened the work wonderfully, as the other
warriors learned the work. They went at it like children, laughing and
playing continually, until the two white boys wondered how they could
ever have stood in fear of these pranking dwarfs who were so full of fun
and laughter.
At the end of five days the first raft was finished to the satisfaction
of the boys. Even when the platform was crowded with men it floated
clear of the water, and with an ordinary load the platform would be at
least a foot above the surface. The whole fabric was very strong, for
the platform itself was formed of saplings which were lashed carefully,
and no ordinary shock would break up the raft. A small bulwark was then
run around the edges.
At the end of a week the second raft also lay completed, and now the
boys had to face the somewhat difficult task of explaining their purpose
to Mbopo. They took him over to the sacred hut, and Burt pointed to the
ivory tusks, with gestures of uprooting them.
"Take him to Buburika Mac," he explained over and over. "You go along.
Come back afterwards."
Mbopo looked doubtful as he grasped the idea that the tusks were to be
loaded on the rafts. Finally, however, he nodded and the boys drew a
breath of relief. That they would be obeyed now they had no fear at all,
for the pigmies were their devoted slaves in every way, and stood in
evident awe of the two boys and especially of "Mwanzi."
This belief was confirmed when Mbopo addressed the tribe in a great
council that night. The pigmies made not the slightest opposition, and
the boys could see by his gestures that he was describing their desires.
"All right," murmured Burt as the two short guttural barks ascended from
the audience, "it's all over but the shouting, Critch. S'pose we can get
the stuff loaded up to-morrow?"
"We ought to," replied his chum. "We'll have to see first. Those thorns
are tangled up with the tusks somethin' fierce."
Next morning the entire tribe left the village and approached the
sacred hut of Pongo. Under the direction of Mbopo, who took matters into
his own hands now, the work of uprooting the ivory was begun. This was
difficult, but by evening the last of the great tusks lay in the pile by
the river edge. All that remained was to load them aboard the rafts.
This, however, would be no easy matter, for the tusks were heavy and the
balance of the rafts must be preserved.
Critch took charge of the loading, while Burt attended to getting
provisions together for the journey. There was dried meat in abundance,
and plenty of fresh vegetables and fruits. The boys had a long
consultation over loading the ivory, for even with the protection of the
dwarfs a raftload of tusks would be too much of an inducement for the
tribes they were sure to meet.
At length it was settled by making a layer of tusks, of which there were
thirty-nine in all, on the platforms. Fifteen of the tusks had been
discarded by the boys as worthless. Over the layer of ivory was placed
enough dirt to fill in the spaces and hold the tusks steady. A top layer
of skins completed the whole.
The young chief made no objection to taking the journey on the rafts,
for the boys held out "Buburika Mac" at the end of the trip as a bribe,
and Mbopo could not resist. He selected six warriors for each raft; he
and Burt took charge of one and Critch of the other. Poles were cut for
the "deckhands," as Burt named the crews, and at length all was ready.