CHAPTER XII
STAMPEDE
The jungle closed in upon the warriors. They seemed like insectswinding through a patch of grass, for the trees grew high and thickabove them and the saplings crowded close to the trail.
The Kungoras used their hatchets and the Stone-Age men slashed withtheir flint implements, cutting away the creepers and vines thatblocked their passage. But it was slow going.
Dick Oakwood watched the progress with anxious eyes, for it was farpast mid-day and he wanted to attack while it was still light.Otherwise in the darkness, he might lose the captives altogether.
The time was short for what they had to do.
"At this rate we will never make it," said Dan Carter, mopping themoisture from his face.
"Push on anyhow," said Dick. "There's nothing else to do."
He and Dan were in the lead, with Mutaba, who directed his axe-wieldingblacks. The guide kept watching for any sign of hostilities, runningahead whenever there was a clear space on the trail and searching fortracks or broken twigs which might indicate that some enemy had passedthat way.
Suddenly he stopped short, crouched low in the brush and raised onehand high as a warning. Dick watched him draw his bow and take carefulaim at something in the tangle of vines far ahead, then as he let thearrow fly, a creature that might have been man or beast fled throughthe undergrowth in terror.
With a grunt of anger, Mutaba leaped forward and pursued it, while Dickand Dan did their best to keep up. But the black slid through thetangled growth like a snake, while the two boys were blockedconstantly, so they were soon left behind.
Finally when they did overtake him, Mutaba was squatting on hishaunches, examining everything on the ground and in the brush with thetrained eyes of a tracker.
"It was a man," he said briefly. "My arrow missed, for there was notrace of blood on any branch or on the ground."
Mutaba moved a pace forward and pointed to some crushed vegetation,which to the boys was meaningless.
"It was a Muta-Kunga tribesman," said the tracker. "A young warrior,who knows the way of the jungle."
"A regular Sherlock Holmes:" remarked Dan. "Next thing he will tell usthat the fellow was exactly five feet, eight and a half inches tall,had a hair lip and wore grey spats and a lion skin."
Mutaba understood nothing of this, but as though in answer to Dan'ssarcasm, he reached out with his thin black fingers and dislodged a bitof fluff from a bramble.
"It is from the Muta-Kunga warrior's neck feathers," he said.
"Neck feathers?"
"Yes, Bwana Dick, when the Muta-Kunga is at war or on the huntingtrail, he wears a neck piece of feathers. See, this is a bit that wastorn off in flight."
Dick translated for Dan's benefit, and the latter whistled inastonishment.
"Guess I pulled another boner," he said. "Sherlock Holmes was on tohis job after all."
"That ends our surprise attack!" Dick exclaimed. "The Muta-Kungawarriors will know we are on our way. That fellow may be at the campalready, and warning the tribe."
"Tough luck!" said Dan.
"The worst is that they may rush the prisoners to some other hidingplace in the jungle."
"Or they may ambush us at some spot and shoot us full of arrows withoutwarning."
"It's a bad break for us, either way," admitted Dick. "But it's toolate to turn back now. We'll just have to take a chance."
"Why couldn't the Mahatma have foreseen this in his crystal?" Dangrowled.
"You expect too much. The Hindu can't see _everything_."
"Well, it's up to him to make good," Dan persisted. "He said we wouldrescue Ray and your father and Veena, and if he lets us down, I'll makehim sweat for it!"
The war party proceeded more cautiously than before. Word had spreadthrough the little army that a spy had been shot at but had escaped, soevery man was on his guard for attackers.
For some time nothing unusual happened, though there was a constantfeeling of dread. At any moment a shower of arrows and spears mightbring death to the invaders. The forest seemed more terrifying thanever and even the Kungoras, who would rather fight than eat, showed thenervous strain.
Finally Mutaba stopped short in his tracks with a sharp "_Psst!_" andheld up his hand.
"What is it now?" gasped Dan, fitting an arrow to his bow.
Dick brought his clumsy Arab gun level for a shot at the hidden enemy.But this time the foe was not human.
Through the tangle of vines and saplings a huge head loomed above theparty. It was an enormous elephant that faced them with murderous ragein its little bright eyes.
Its trunk raised high, the creature trumpeted angrily, while its earsstood out like wings on both sides of its head.
"Jehosephat!" gasped Dan. "Now we are done for!"
In his excitement he let fly the arrow he was holding, but it bouncedoff the tough hide of the bull elephant as though it had struck a brickwall.
At this annoyance, the elephant trumpeted more furiously than before,and from behind him other huge forms crowded to dispute the path of thewarriors.
"It's a whole herd of 'em," cried Dan. "We'll be trampled to pulp."
But though his voice trembled Dan Carter did not become panic-stricken.He looked to his friend Dick Oakwood for advice and saw that the BoyKing was facing the danger manfully.
Raising the heavy gun to his shoulder, Dick was taking a steady aim atthe animal's eye. It was a desperate chance. Only one shot with aclumsy old-fashioned gun and if that missed, all was over.
To Dan it seemed like an hour, as Dick held the bead on the infuriatedmonster, but it was only a second. Then Dick squeezed the trigger,there followed a sharp click--and that was all. The gun had missedfire.
"Good night!" gasped Dan. "This is our finish. Now they'll charge us,and we'll be trampled into the mud."
But just as the herd swayed forward in a clumsy attack, the even voiceof the Mahatma sounded among the tribesmen.
"Stand fast! Fear nothing!"
Once more the wise Hindu sent his thoughts straight to their minds byhis mysterious power and at the same time he used his occult skill uponthe furious brutes. Some nameless fear struck the leader of the herdas the Mahatma exerted his mystic forces.
The rage of the bull elephant changed instantly to wild terror. Trunkaloft, he trumpeted shrilly, and wheeled about in flight.
The herd caught the panic.
At once the great animals crashed blindly through the jungles,flattening the saplings and tearing loose the clinging vines as theyfled.
They were stampeding in the direction of the Muta-Kunga camp andbeating a trail for the warriors faster than the hatchet-men could havecleared it.
Dick Oakwood cocked his gun and pulled the trigger, aiming at theretreating herd. This time there was no miss-fire. The gun roaredlike a young cannon.
"Tahara hal!" went up a great shout from Raal, as he leaped forward.His tribesmen followed, brandishing their weapons and echoing the warcry: "_Tahara, hal!_"
To Raal and his men this was one more proof of the Boy King'ssuperhuman power.
Mutaba and his Kungoras took up the chase, yelling fiercely and hurlinginsults at the fleeing elephants.
Now there was no further need of caution for the Muta-Kungas werewarned of a coming battle. All that the invaders had to do was to raceforward, and at their top speed it was not possible to catch up withthe herd. Clumsy as they appeared, the elephants were capable ofmoving fast, and now urged by fear, they tore through the jungle like afreight train.
The trumpeting of the elephants, the terrified chatter of monkeys inthe trees, and birds, startled by the confusion, raised a terrific dinin the forest that was usually so quiet. Small game fled in terrorbefore the onrush that shook the ground. Snakes slid swiftly out ofthe way of the charging herd. No creature large or small dared to stayin its path.
And this onslaught was most violent when it swept upon the camp of theMuta-Kungas. Warned by their sco
ut who had been shot at by Mutaba, thetribesmen of Chief Mobogoma were prepared for battle. Armed withflat-pointed spears and bows and arrows, they were drawn up awaitingthe word to meet their enemies and attack them from ambush. TheMuta-Kungas were ferocious looking fellows with degraded faces andabout their necks they wore huge ruffs of brightly colored feathers.
Abdul and his men were ready with their guns and scimiters, while JessSlythe was guarding two of the prisoners, Professor Oakwood and RayCarter, with the help of a couple of Arabs. Cimbula who had impressedthe tribe by his craftiness, was guarding the Princess Veena in a hutreserved for prospective brides of Chief Mobogoma. The one-eyedwitch-doctor was quite at home in the enemy camp and hoped to see theTaharans slain.
The Arab horses were in a large corral, for the forest was too dense touse them in fighting, and as for flight, nobody had even considered it,as the Muta-Kungas expected to kill off the invaders before they evenreached the camp.
But the whirlwind attack threw them all into confusion. First came thesmall animals, running as though the forest were afire behind them,then crash, _crash_, CRASH, the old bull elephant charged right throughthe village, his herd at his heels.
Down went the fences of the small garden patches and down went everyhut that stood in the way. Even the chief's big house was not sparedand Mobogoma himself had to duck out of the way as a raging elephantbrought down the thatched roof. His wives and children fled screaminginto the wilderness, scattering before the thundering terror.
Brave as they were, the Muta-Kungas did not even try to fight off thecharging elephants, but sought shelter behind big trees, and as for theArabs, they made a wild dash for their horses, which had broken loosefrom the wrecked corral.
Dick shouted to his Taharans and Gorols, "Let 'em have it!" as hisforces swept into the wrecked village.
"Let 'em have it!" echoed Dan Carter. "Give 'em the axe!" Both boyswere keenly alive to the danger that the captives were exposed to, andwhile their followers took on the Muta-Kungas in hand to hand combat,the boys looked for Ray and Dick's father among the ruined huts.
Raal was no less eager in the search for Veena and he was the first tofind what he sought. From a partly wrecked hut he spied the girltrying to crawl from under the thatched roof, while the witch-doctorstood over her threatening her with death if she tried to escape.
In one leap Raal was upon him, battle axe upraised and the wretchedCimbula vented a howl of terror as he saw the weapon flash through theair.
It was the last sound he uttered, for the next moment Raal's axe foundits mark and the crafty plotter sank in a heap among the debris of theruined hut.
Raal dragged out Veena and held her in his arms, looking about fiercelyto protect her from other foes, while the girl clung to him in mingledterror and gratitude.
Meanwhile Dick and Dan caught sight of Ray struggling with Abdul, whowas mounted on his horse and was holding the girl before him on thesaddle.
Ray struggled frantically and screamed for help. Jess Slythe who wastying Professor Oakwood upon a horse, aided by two husky Arabs, snarledat her to keep quiet.
"I've got a good mind to cut your throat and the professor's too," heraged. "If I didn't expect a good big ransom from your father, I'd doit in a minute."
It was at that moment that Dick saw the girl and rushed toward her,shouting, "Dan, Dan, there she is!"
The two boys flung themselves at Abdul, striking at him with theirprimitive weapons. Dan had only a flint knife which he tried to usedagger-fashion, but as he strained upward Abdul raised his scimiter toslash at his head.
But Dick Oakwood was quick to defend his friend. With the long Arabgun, clutched in both hands, he swung at Abdul, delivering a blow thathalf stunned the Bedouin. Abdul reeled in his saddle, releasing hishold on Ray and like a flash she slipped to the ground, her dark hairtumbled, her cheeks reddened with anger and her black eyes flashing.
"Don't let him get away!" she cried. "I want to pay him back for whathe made me suffer."
Dick held her in his arms to keep her from falling, but Dan, whosehands were free, hurled his flint knife at Abdul just as the Arab'shorse galloped away.
The weapon caught the ruffian on the arm and a gush of blood reddenedhis burnous, but the next instant, clinging to his horse's neck, thefugitive plunged into the forest.
Dick saw to his horror that Jess Slythe had tied his father to a horseand was now in flight, mounted upon another animal.
Professor Oakwood, too proud to call for help, sent one despairing lookbackward, as Jess Slythe lashed the animal's flanks.
"After him!" shouted Dick Oakwood. "Get me a horse, somebody! We have_got_ to rescue my father!"
But the Arab horses were plunging about beyond hope of capture, andJess Slythe and his prisoner were already lost in the shadows of thejungle.
Tahara Among African Tribes Page 12
