DOWN THE MAKUA
The start was made in the early dawn of a perfect day. The whole tribe
assembled to see the party off, and it was plain that the pigmies, while
not opposing the departure, did not like to lose "Mwanzi," for many
gifts were brought to the boys, with gestures of good will. In their
turn, Burt and Critch gave away all the small articles they possessed
except those which they would absolutely need. Their collection of
weapons was completed, and Burt carefully wrapped up the rifle with its
three precious cartridges in the tarpaulin. As the sequel proved, it was
well indeed for the boys that they had found the old rifle.
Finally all was ready. The warriors took their places on board, standing
amid the piles of provisions and skins of water, for the boys dared not
drink the river water.
"Cast off!" shouted Critch, throwing off the vine that bound his raft to
the bank. Burt followed suit. A roll of tom-toms and a loud shout rose
from the tribe, which was answered by a shout from the crews. Slowly the
poles sent the rafts out into mid-stream, where the current caught them
and swept them down. For half a mile they remained in sight of the
village, then a bend swept all away. The perilous voyage was begun.
Burt's raft followed that of Critch at a distance of fifty feet. Neither
boy made any effort to increase the speed of the craft, confining their
efforts to keeping the rafts from turning around and around in the
current. Both floated well above the water, and the pigmies were highly
delighted with their novel situation.
The river was of good size and to the joy of the two boys it continued
to flow steadily toward the northwest. They floated down between banks
of heavy vegetation, but saw no signs of life. That night they camped on
an island and the party seemed in high spirits.
The next day they received their first sign of the hidden life that
filled the great jungles. There came a high shrill yell from one bank,
to which Mbopo replied, and the boys knew that once more they were among
the black dwarfs. This was repeated in the afternoon, but even by the
aid of their glasses they could not make out who had hailed them.
Only once did they meet with trouble. This occurred when Critch ran
aground on a hidden shoal. The solid raft ran deeply into the mud of the
river bottom and it took the efforts of both crews to get her off.
For three days more they floated down the river, but on the third
evening both boys noticed signs of uneasiness among the pigmies. In the
morning, before the start, Mbopo approached Critch.
"Where Buburika Mac?" he inquired, glancing around as if he expected to
find Captain Montenay in their vicinity. Critch glanced at Burt.
"Him down there," and he waved his hand downstream. Mbopo looked
doubtfully around.
"Mbopo no like vera good," was his reply. "Him Zwengi pretty quick."
"Zwengi?" repeated Critch, puzzled.
"Him vera bad," declared Mbopo. "Him big, much fight. Mbopo no like."
"Must be a tribe they're at war with," said Burt. He took up the rifle
and turned to the chief. "Him kill Zwengi."
"Mwanzi kill Zwengi?" asked Mbopo of Critch, plainly putting all his
faith in the latter's prowess. Critch laughed and nodded. Mbopo turned
and spoke joyfully to his men, who instantly lost their uneasy
appearance and sprang aboard with a shout of delight.
"It's up to you," grinned Burt, and Critch nodded soberly.
"Plain bluff again," he said. "If we are held up, those bows o' the
dwarfs ought to get in good work, an' your three cartridges'll help a
whole lot unless the Zwengi have guns. If they have, it's all up, I
guess."
"The Makua can't be so very far off now," replied Burt. "The river's
getting bigger and bigger, and the current's swifter. S'pose we could
rig up any kind of breastwork on the rafts?"
"Better not waste time trying," dissented Critch. "I'm afraid of making
them top-heavy. Well, let's be off. We ought to hit the Makua pretty
quick now. If we don't meet Cap'n Mac I expect Mbopo'll be sore. That's
what's worrying me right now."
It was worrying Burt too, but he jumped aboard his raft and cast loose
without giving vent to his fears. He realized only too well that the
Zwengi might have canoes, and if they were discovered and pursued their
only hope was to beat off the enemy.
For several hours they swept along the rapidly widening river without
any sign of a foe. Toward noon the stream swept around in a great bend,
and as Burt stared ahead he caught a wild shout from Critch.
"There she is!" and the red-haired boy danced around and waved his arms
back at the other raft. "The Makua, Burt!"
Sweeping around with the current, Burt saw ahead of them two or three
scattered islands. Beyond these was the sheen of water, and he could
plainly see that their river formed a juncture with another and much
larger stream. As he was staring down the river there came a sudden yell
from his men.
"Zwengi!"
Whirling around, Burt saw them pointing to the right bank. At the same
instant a yell of alarm went up from Critch's raft. It was answered by
another shout from the right bank, and Burt saw three long canoes
putting out, with a crowd of savage warriors pouring into others. He
saw instantly that they had only one chance.
"Make for the island!" he shouted to Critch. "Land and hold them off!"
Critch waved his hand, and both boys set the men to work frantically,
trying to guide the unwieldy craft toward an island that rose straight
ahead of them. Burt unwrapped the rifle, but did not wish to use it
until he had to.
With a dozen paddlers in each, the big war canoes shot out across the
river to head off the first raft. Now, the bows used by the white
pigmies were larger than those of any other tribe the boys had seen.
They were fully as long as the men themselves and of great strength.
Burt saw Critch say something to Mbopo and take the pole from one of his
men. Instantly he followed suit, directing the man he relieved to shoot
at two of the following canoes which were heading toward them. As he did
so a flight of arrows came over the water, all but one falling short,
the one rebounding from the wet logs without sticking.
As Burt's man caught up his bow, the boy saw Mbopo and another warrior
loose their shafts from the first raft. The arrows, driven by the full
force of those tremendous bows, easily reached to the canoes. The bowman
in the first canoe gave a yell and dropped his paddle; as he did so, the
man behind him threw up his arms and fell back, overturning the canoe.
At this instant Burt's man shot, and although his arrow missed, the
pursuing canoes instantly ceased their approach and sheered off,
paddling down ahead of the rafts.
Their plan was evident. By reaching the islands ahead of the two rafts,
which were still two hundred yards away, they could command the passages
that led into the Makua. Realizing the danger as he saw one of the
canoes turn and head for the island in front of them, Burt took up his
rifle. He did not wish to shoot to kill and therefore took careful aim
at the bow of the canoe, ahead of the bowman and just at the waterline.
As the canoes were hollowed-out logs, a bullet there would shatter the
whole bow.
Trusting to luck that the old rifle would hold together, Burt pulled the
trigger. The sharp crack awoke a thousand echoes from the forest on
either hand. At the same instant the bow of the canoe seemed to fly into
splinters, a shrill yell of fear went up from the foe, and as the canoe
filled, the others instantly turned back but still continued
downstream. A moment later Critch's raft swept down toward the island,
four of the pigmies sprang out, and drew her safely to shore.
The other islands, however, were well within range of the Zwengi bows
and to them the canoes dashed. Mbopo's men sent one whirling downstream
by a flight of arrows that completely cleared the craft, but the others
gained the shelter of the islands just as Burt's raft was landed beside
that of Critch. Then the dwarfs made fast and sprang out.
"We're in for it," cried Critch, pointing upstream. "Look there!"
Pulling out his glasses, Burt saw at least a dozen other canoes slinking
down close to the banks. Catching up his rifle, he aimed full at the bow
of the first. It was a long shot, but as the echoes rose the boys saw
the paddlers spring overboard, and the canoe filled and sank a moment
later.
"Dandy shot," shouted Critch, "but they got us, Burt! Mebbe we can hold
'em off while our arrows last, but--"
At that instant something happened that caused the boys to whirl and
stare at each other with pale faces. Clear and sharp above the yells of
the warriors, and coming from the left bank, the south bank, they had
heard the report of a heavy rifle!
"Hear that!" yelled Burt. "There's a hunter there!"
"Hurray!" shouted his chum, turning and hitting Mbopo a clap on the back
that sent the dwarf staggering. "Mwanzi'll fix them, old scout. Hurray!
Try another shot, Burt!"
And as a flight of Zwengi arrows poured into the island, Burt fired
again, this time in the air. As if in answer there came another shot
from the left bank, and a yell went up from the dwarfs as one of their
foes on the neighboring island threw up his arms and fell back. A shriek
of terror went up from the Zwengi, while the pigmy arrows played havoc
among them as they fled back to their canoes. Next instant a canoe put
out from the south bank.
"Look there!" shouted Burt, peering through his glasses. "White helmets!
We're saved, Critch!"
"Yes," and Critch began to dance up and down, waving his arms like mad,
"an' it's your uncle and Cap'n Mac! Hurray! Hurray!"
A week later a small German Company steamer was making her way down the
broad Makua River. In the shade of her awning reclined Mr. Wallace,
Captain Montenay, Burt and Critch. John was busying himself forward, and
the decks of the little craft were littered with long, curved packages
that looked strangely like elephant tusks.
"Well, it was mighty lucky for us that you started after us that way,"
Burt was saying. "If you'd tried to strike right through the black dwarf
country we'd have missed you. Ain't it queer how things worked out?"
"Not a bit," asserted Captain Mac quietly. "It looks to me, Burt, as if
the hand o' Providence was in it."
The boys stared at the Scotchman for a moment in wonder. Suddenly Burt
sprang to his feet.
"Oh, I forgot!" he cried. "I ain't showed you that roll yet!" Dashing
off to the cabin, he returned with the tightly rolled packet he had
taken from the mummy as he and Critch had unwrapped it. Mr. Wallace took
it with an exclamation of pleasure.
"This is really something worth having, boys!" he declared, carefully
unfolding the papyrus. "Hello! Let's see what it says."
In spite of its age, the first part that unrolled showed clear and
strong picture writing, in bright colors. The others gave a simultaneous
exclamation, while Mr. Wallace bent his brows in the endeavor to read
it.
"Well, it's nothing special," he announced, "merely being scenes from
the life of Ta-En-User, with the story of his achievements. I think we'd
better roll it up and keep it from the damp now; we can read it later.
It'll make something great for your room, Burt! It's mighty few boys
that can boast of having a relic like that hanging on their walls!"
"Well, I'm kind o' sorry we're going home," sighed Critch. "Won't this
be a great yarn to write up for the school paper, eh, Burt?"
"Nonsense!" said Mr. Wallace sharply. "It's too big a story for that,
Critch. Why don't you two chaps get busy and make a book out of it? I'll
help you in the stiff places."
"Hurray!" cried Burt.
"Bully!" uttered Critch, delighted. "That's just what we'll do, Mr.
Wallace! Say, won't it make a great yarn?"
"An' if you do," put in Captain Mac with a quiet grin, "be sure an' send
me a copy o' the thing, laddies! I'd like powerful well to see my name
in a story book!"
"You bet we will!" said Burt, and Critch grinned happily.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Blind Lion of the Congo, by Elliott Whitney