THE MAN-HUNTER.
Jack Percival started when an ugly black face peered through the longgrass not two yards from where he sat, and his hands stole cautiouslytoward the butt of his rifle. 'Twas seven weeks since he had seen aman, black or white, other than his chum, Paul Armstrong, but he feltno overwhelming rapture at the breaking of the monotony. When one is ina country inhabited only by cannibals, it is surprising how strong thelove of solitude becomes.
Before him he could see the mountain of darkness thrusting its flatpeak into the clear blue of the African sky; on every side the jungleclosed him in like a wall--a dense mass of greenery spangled withflaming flowers. For the rest, he was encompassed by a most unutterablesilence, and a hideous misshapen visage, black as coal, was staringat him from beyond the tangle of monkey-ropes that hung from theyellow-wood trees.
Jack was no greenhorn, and he kept perfectly cool, although he wasexpecting every instant to feel an assegai piercing his breast.Turning his eyes from the direction of the ebon face, he fixed themthoughtfully on the camp-fire, as if oblivious to the presence ofthe motionless native. But all the time his right hand was creeping,creeping toward the rifle that lay within easy reach.
It was nerve-shaking work, and he could not repress a gasp of reliefas his gripping fingers closed upon the stock. The moment had come foraction. With a lightning movement, he covered the impassive face beyondthe curtain of monkey-ropes, and his forefinger was hard pressed uponthe trigger as he bounded to his feet.
"Now, then, you black beast!" he hissed angrily. "What you think ofthat, eh? No soup for you to-night, old chap! I've got the drop on you,and I mean to keep it. Cooee!"
He ended his sentence with a long-drawn Australian yell, and it wasanswered immediately by another from the gloomy interior of the jungle.Jack had expected the aborigine to make an attempt to escape, buthe did nothing of the sort. Parting the trailing creepers with bothhands, he continued his scrutiny with as much interest as if the youngman had been the first specimen of his kind to penetrate into theregion.
"Makes me feel like the fat lady in a side-show," Jack muttered,shifting uneasily beneath this intent regard. "I wonder what's up withthe beggar? Ah, here's Paul!"
Paul it was. He came leaping cheerfully through the undergrowth, with abrilliant-plumaged paroquet slung over his shoulder, his gun swingingin one hand. For a second he halted in amazement as he caught sight ofthe unwelcome visitor, and then, dropping the bird, he advanced warily,his firearm raised for action.
"Where on earth did you get that, Jack?" he whispered. "Is it tame?"
"Blessed if I know. He simply crept up and peered at me through themonkey-ropes, and he hasn't said as much as a word yet."
Paul, who had a tolerably wide acquaintance with the natives of theinterior, surveyed the black wonderingly. He was a gigantic figure ofa man, clothed only in a breech-clout, and armed with a wooden-pointedassegai. In appearance he was a cross between a full-blooded Zulu and aKafir, but he seemed to possess all the immobility of an Indian chief.
"A new breed," Paul announced, in a puzzled way. "All the other nativesthat I have tumbled across would have left their assegais as a sort ofvisiting-card before this. I'll try him with a bit of Seleke. He lookslike them, to my mind, and I've heard yarns about their trekking intothe interior to escape the persecution of the Zulus--don't blame 'em,either."
Lowering his rifle, he turned to the black man, who had gravelysquatted down upon the ground, with his bare hands upturned as a signof peace.
"Greeting, child of the Seleke," he said solemnly. "Have you any wishto lay before the white travelers who venture into your domains?"
The native's face lighted visibly at sound of the Seleke tongue, andhe made reply in the same language, although in a slightly differentdialect.
"Greeting, white men from the sun! You are welcome, and doubly welcome,to the realm of Moshesh, chief of the Dumalas. You are sent for apurpose, godsmen, and I am sent to pray you to break your march at thevillage of N'koto, not a noon's march from here."
Both Paul and Jack surveyed him suspiciously.
His friendliness was both unexpected and extraordinary to any onecognizant, as they were, with the customs of the African of theinterior.
True, they might have some surviving veneer of civilization, being anoffshoot from the Selekes, but it was a very slender thread of safetyto trust to.
"We are sent for a purpose, are we?" Paul muttered. "For the purposeof being converted into black man's pork pie, I suppose. Jack, what onearth are we to do with this chap? He's getting on my nerves. I wishhe'd move, and not look so much like a stuffed monkey."
"Ask him what he wants," proposed the other. "If we kick him out, he'llbe potting at us with that sardine-opener."
Nodding, Paul turned to the native again.
"What are you called, O child of the Seleke?" he asked, reverting tothe man's own dialect.
"I am called N'tshu Gontze," was the dignified response.
"The dickens you are! Sounds like a kind of fish," interjected Jack,who would have joked in the face of a simoon. "Ask him what hisgrandfather's name is, Paul."
"Why is our presence desired in the kraal of your chief?" Paulcontinued, maintaining his gravity by an effort, and frowning athis irrepressible comrade. He knew that a Seleke whose dignity hasbeen tampered with is a more unpleasant companion than an enragedorang-otang.
"We are the victims of a terrible scourge, and we would seek thelightning-rods of the brave white princes to aid us," Gontze answeredearnestly. "In a month our numbers have been decreased by dozens. Everyother night a man, a woman, or a child perishes, and we are powerlessto help ourselves. We dare not hunt, our women scarce dare to venturebeyond the bounds of N'koto, and we starve for want of food."
The two hunters listened to this impassioned harangue with closeattention.
It not only explained the native's curious appearance, but, if true, itwas a guarantee of their own safety.
"We are not willing to break our march without reward," Paul returned,after a short interval of thought. "The Selekes are rich; they havemuch gold, and the white men need it in their kraals."
Gontze nodded.
"It is known. Follow me, godsmen from the sun, and you shall be feastedand rewarded royally."
Paul, who was quick in coming to a decision, nodded assent.
In addition to the prospect of a rich haul of gold or ivory, from whichhe was by no means averse, the sporting fever had awakened in his bloodat the prospect of a bout with a man-eating tiger, as he had surmisedthe terror of N'koto to be, and, having assisted Jack to stamp out theashes of the fire, he signified to Gontze their readiness to follow.
The man turned on his heel and strode into the jungle. The two ladshastily gathered together their goods, and silently followed the trackhe made.
It was late evening when the thatched roofs of N'koto came in view, andthe sun was painting the sky with a dye of crimson, touching the treeswith rosy fingers, and transforming the crocodile streams to pools ofblood. A strange silence fell for a few minutes, as though every livingthing in the jungle lay frightened by the gathering gloom. Then thenight fell suddenly, and they were struggling through pitch-darkness,relieved only by the red glare of the fading sunglow in the westernhorizon.
The village had been erected in a clearing made in the very heart ofthe forest, and was surrounded by a high stockade of tree trunks.Within, the darkness was dispelled by the flare of a hundred torches,and, as the two white men and their guide approached, the central gateopened and a party of men burst into view, all shouting like demons,and thrashing the ground with their torches as they capered to and fro,filling the air with wreaths of smoke and flying sparks.
"They are trying to frighten something--a lion, probably," Paulwhispered to Jack, who was rather scared by the frenzied uproar."Haven't you noticed Gontze lately? He has been nearly frightened outof his skin for the last half-mile."
Paul's conjecture proved a correct one.
&n
bsp; The instant that the white men had passed through the gateway theturmoil ceased as if by magic, and the Selekes hurried after them, asthough, like Tam o' Shanter, they had seen the evil one at their heels.
It was an impressive scene within the compound. The way to the royalkraal was lined by three hundred men and women, all decked in gayplumes and brightly colored garments woven of dyed grasses, and thelights of the torches glittered on spear-points and greasy skins withweird effect, which was enhanced by the guttural thud-thud of thetom-toms and the eery, demoniac blast of cowhide horns.
When they entered the kraal of Moshesh, however, the uproar ceasedabruptly, and in the midst of intense stillness they walked acrossthe rush-covered floor to where the chief was seated upon a throne ofbuffalo-robes. He was an elderly, white-haired man, with a circlet ofivory upon his brow, as a symbol of his authority. He seemed even morecivilized than the tribe, and as Paul and Jack bowed before him headdressed them in fluent English.
"Welcome, white men! May you live forever, and remember always thekraal of Moshesh with happiness! Be you seated."
The two hunters obeyed in silence, knowing that it would not beetiquette to speak until food had been placed before them. Moshesh,descending from his throne, squatted before them in a very unkinglikemanner, and they were soon partaking of roast monkey, pressedbetel-nuts, and similar dishes, to which they had become inured bycustom.
The repast concluded, Moshesh, who had eaten enough for four ordinarymen, rolled over so that he could lean his fat back against the wall,and in a few melancholy sentences conveyed to his guests the story thathad already been told in part by Gontze.
The substance of his recital was that, a month previously, the headmanof the village had mysteriously disappeared, and as--the chief saidgravely--he was very useful, a search-party had been organized by thebereaved relatives. During the hunt they had come upon the lair of amonster lion, and one of the party had paid the penalty with his life.
The lion, in a few days, had proved not only to be a man-eater, buta man-hunter. If a Seleke ventured alone beyond the stockade, he wasseldom seen again, and two men had been snatched literally from thevery gates. Hunting was at an end; they could only go for their waterin a strong body and at a great risk, and were, in fact, living ina state of siege, while the man-hunter slowly but surely diminishedtheir numbers, with a cunning and ferocity that proved him to be thedwelling-place of a very evil spirit indeed. If they organized ahunt, he disappeared entirely, and, said Moshesh, they were at theirwit's end when they heard that the mighty white hunters, with theirlightning-rods, had honored the country of the Seleke with theirdistinguished presence.
Paul, who was the spokesman, allowed the chief to bring his ramblingrecital to an end before he spoke.
"We have been on the march all day and are weary," he said then. "Butin the morning we will rid you of this scourge." He spoke as thoughhe had only to raise his hand and the thing would be done. "But, OMoshesh, if it find favor in your sight, we would crave a reward forthe loss of our time."
"Two golden tusks shall be yours," the chief rejoined, with an airof indifference. "It is well. May my guests sleep long and happily,free from the spirit of evil dreams, and awake with the strength offourscore lions. I have spoken."
He made a signal, and three men came forward to conduct the whitehunters to the hut that had been allotted to them. In spite of thestrangeness of their quarters, they were soon wrapped in deep slumber,secure in the fact that their mission would protect them from therapacity of the Selekes.
At ten o'clock the next morning the hunt set forth. Conquering hisfears, Moshesh had made the occasion a species of celebration, and theSelekes had turned out almost en masse to witness the destruction ofthe beast that had terrorized them for so long.
Gontze, who appeared to possess as much bravery as all the rest of thetribe put together, had constituted himself guide, as he was aware ofthe exact situation of the animal's lair.
For half an hour they walked on through the jungle, which grew more andmore impenetrable as they progressed, until they were forced to have aparty of men with knives to carve a way through the undergrowth.
"We near the spot, Strongarm," Gontze murmured presently, pointingto a cross hacked in the wood of a date-palm. "I placed that markthere myself when I was here before, knowing that the creepers spreadthemselves faster than one can cut them down. The lion's lair isthrough there."
He paused as he spoke, pointing with outstretched arm to a dim,mysterious glade that lay directly ahead. It was a wild, bushy kloof,covered by a maze of Kafir bean, acacia, spekboem, geranium, plumbago,euphorbia, and a score of other growths to which no man can put aname. Shielded from the hot rays of the copper-colored sun, it lookedcool and delightful to the eye, but the party of Selekes shrankback at Gontze's words, surveying the place with a horror that washalf-superstitious.
"So that is where my lord lives, is it?" Paul muttered, as he stoopedto peer along the dim aisles of jungle, starred with flowers likecandles in some vast cathedral. "I see no sign of a spoor."
"Said I not that the weeds grow almost visibly, O Strongarm?" Gontze,to whom the remark was addressed, returned. "The lion gorged himselftwo suns ago, and still lies sleeping. The grass has covered his spoor."
Paul Armstrong nodded, and stepped aside to confer with his chum.
They were both anxious to obtain the two golden tusks that the chiefhad promised them, and they wanted to make sure of the man-eater at thefirst shot, if possible. If they allowed him to escape from his lair,it might be days before they could entice him within firing distanceagain.
However, their plan of campaign was soon formed, and they returned tothe place where they had left Gontze, to find that the chief, with mostof his retainers, had drawn off and left them to their own devices, afact for which they were duly thankful. Three of the Selekes had beenleft behind--Gontze and two other men, who had evidently been pickedfor their strength, to judge by their gigantic stature.
"I am going to walk up to the lair and entice the beast out," Paul saidcalmly. "My friend will be seated up in a tree, and will pop off Mr.Man-eater as he passes. You three had better be up in the trees, too;only don't stick those assegais into me by accident, please."
The Seleke listened in amazement to this proposition.
"But the white man is surely mad!" he broke out, in dismay, so soon ashe could speak. "It is sure death to walk up to the lair!"
"It will take a lively lion to catch me, in this maze of trees," Paulanswered carelessly. "You'd better hurry up, I think, or the lion mighttake a fancy to come out before we are ready."
Jack Percival was already settling himself, with a grimly determinedair, in the tree that Paul had indicated, and at a word from Gontze,who still shook his head dismally, the two natives followed suit,clambering into a tree on the opposite side of the glade, and holdingtheir assegais ready for instant use.
Waving his hand to Jack, Paul gripped his rifle firmly, and steppedcarefully through the tangle of weeds that carpeted the kloof. Beforehe had gone far he came suddenly upon a cavernous opening in the claybank, around the mouth of which hundreds of bones were strewn, pickedto an ivory whiteness by the voracious driver-ants, which swarmed inhordes, like poor relations, about the entrance to the great beast'sden.
With his heart thumping wildly, Paul paused to listen, shuddering atthe noisome odor that was wafted to his nostrils. From within he couldhear the sound of deep, harsh breathing, varied occasionally by along-drawn snore.
Stooping, he picked up a great chunk of earth and flung it with all hisforce into the cavern. He heard the dull thud of its fall distinctly,followed by the patter of the spreading fragments, and then a cry roseto his lips, but was resolutely stifled.
The noise of the lion's snoring had ceased!
In spite of himself, he shrank farther and farther from the mouth ofthe lair, and it was only by a tremendous effort of will that he couldprevent himself from taking to his heels in precipitate flight. Hecould
hear a soft pad-pad of velvety footsteps, and the rattling ofdry bones one against the other. Then suddenly came a roar louder thanthunder, and before Paul could move a step a tawny form flashed intoview, as the lion, with one tremendous spring, bounded toward him.
There was no time to fire. Flinging his rifle aside, he fled like thewind, straight for the spot where his friend was waiting. Another roarfrom behind seemed to shake the forest to its foundations, and he putall his strength into a mighty effort to distance the great beast thatwas overtaking him with enormous leaps. Then a cry of agony burst fromhis lips as, catching his toe in a trailing creeper, he went headlongto the earth.
In spite of the suddenness of the shock, he never lost consciousnessfor a moment. He felt a heavy, evil-smelling body come crashing downonto his own, and his right arm was seized in a grip that broughta shout of agony from between his clenched teeth. Next instant theman-eater lifted him into the air with as much ease as if he had beena baby, and stood gazing round in splendid defiance, its tail lashingslowly from side to side.
"I'm afraid to shoot from here, Paul. I'm coming down."
Paul heard Jack's voice as in a dream. He was beginning to feel faintwith the pain of his crushed arm, but he did not mean to die withouta struggle. Stealthily drawing his hunting-knife, he raised it in theair to the full extent of his arm and plunged it up to the hilt in thelion's side, aiming for the heart.
Phat! Phat!
The sharp report of a rifle seared his brain, as Jack, stealing upbehind, gave the brute both barrels in quick succession. Simultaneouslywith the detonations, as it seemed, the grip of those cruel jawsrelaxed, and even as he fell back in a dead faint he had a vision ofthe Selekes plunging their assegais again and again into the quiveringbody of the man-hunter.
Motor Matt; or, The King of the Wheel Page 19
