Boy Aviators in Africa; Or, an Aerial Ivory Trail
Page 11
CHAPTER XI
THE AGE OF SIKASO
It was late afternoon of the day that Frank, Harry and Ben had leftthe River Camp. Lathrop, Billy, Barnes and old Sikaso had wanderedinto the jungle with their rifles, intent on bringing down some sortof game to replenish the camp larder. For hours they tramped aboutin the thick jungle and a fair measure of success had fallen totheir rifles. Shortly before sundown the trio met in a glade notmore than a mile from the camp and compared notes. To Billy's gunhad fallen a plump young deer and Lathrop had brought down, notwithout a feeling of considerable pride, a species of wild hog whichSikaso proclaimed with a grunt was "heap good."
Flushed with triumph and carrying their own bag, the young huntersset out for the camp, arriving there at dusk. As has been told, itwas not long after that that Frank's wireless from the MoonMountains winged its way through the air and Lathrop was able toflash back in response an "all-well" message. The boys turned inearly, Billy and Lathrop to their tent and old Sikaso to the roughshelter he had contrived for himself and which he declared was farmore comfortable than any tent. Like a wild beast the savage oldwarrior disliked to have anything approaching a roof over him. Itappeared to savor too much of a trap of some kind.
Billy might have been asleep five hours or so and it was approachingmidnight when he heard a noise outside the tent door and a secondlater old Sikaso announced his presence by a whispered:
"Awake, Four-eyes, there is danger."
"What do you mean, Sikaso," demanded the half asleep reporter,"danger to our friends?"
"No; to us, and here and soon," was the disquieting response,"arouse your friend. We have no time to lose."
Billy was wide awake now and made a motion as if he would light thelantern.
Sikaso stopped him with a quick gesture.
"Do not light the lamp, my white brother," he whispered in the sametense tones, "to do so would be to reveal to those who are nowapproaching that we are awake and expect them. Rather let uspretend that we are unaware that they come and spring upon them likethe leopard when she is least expected."
"Yes, but--" exclaimed Billy in a bewildered tone, "what do youmean, Sikaso, what enemies are coming? How do you know that theyare approaching?"
"I have seen it in the smoke," was the somber reply; "the smokenever lies. After I lay down on my skins I could not sleep, I feltthere was danger approaching us. From where I knew not. So I madethe "fetish" fire. In it I saw a band of men coming toward us downthe river and at the head of them was a dark man--a man you knowwell, my white brother with the four eyes."
"Diego!" exclaimed Billy divining the other's thought.
"Yes, Diego; cursed be the day that my war-axe did not cleave hisugly skull; but beside Diego there is another. Hearken to the wordsof Sikaso, the elephant in his rage is not more merciless, theserpent not more cunning, the crocodile not more savage in onslaughtthan this other. He is Muley-Hassan, the Arab, and the deeds he hasdone, my brother, when recounted turn strong men's blood to water."
Small wonder that Billy, as he hastily roused Lathrop, felt ashudder run through him. He had heard enough from Frank of the waysof Muley-Hassan to know that they could not well fall into the handsof a more pitiless foe and that now, with the Golden Eagle gone andthe Boy Aviators already at the ivory cache, it was probable thatthe slave-dealer's rage would render him even more savage than washis wont.
In a few rapidly whispered words Billy apprised Lathrop of thesituation. Like Billy, the other boy had no lack of pluck but hisheart sank, as had his companion's, as he sensed the full meaning ofSikaso's warning.
"But perhaps the smoke was mistaken," he said eagerly, willing tograsp even at that straw of hope; but the old warrior's answerdashed his aspirations to the ground.
"The smoke is never mistaken," he said simply; but with such calmconviction that the boys, despite themselves, realized that the oldKrooman had really the knowledge of grave peril approaching.
"Had we not better arm the other Kroomen?" asked Billy anxiously.
"It would be useless," was Sikaso's reply, "they are cowards. Atthe first sight of blood they would run to the forest like the sonsof weaklings that they are."
"We must rouse Professor Wiseman at once," cried Billy.
"It is well," muttered Sikaso, "we shall need every man who can holda rifle to-night but the professor is old, my brothers, and hisheart is as a woman's."
"Well, he'll have to fight," said Billy with bloodthirsty determination."I for one am not going to stand calmly by and have my throat cut, orworse still be taken prisoner by this old Muley-Hassan."
Old Sikaso glanced approvingly at him.
"Well spoken, Four-eyes," said he; "spoken like a son of a warrior."
Billy's ears tingled at the compliment, which was really in the oldAfrican's opinion the highest that could be paid to a man or a boy,and hurried off to wake "the bugologist" as be disrespectfullytermed the professor. To his surprise, for he more than halfexpected an outbreak, Professor Wiseman did not appear particularlyconcerned at the news that Diego, and Muley-Hassan were--as the boyshad every reason to believe--at that moment advancing on the camp.
"I will dress myself with all alacrity," he said, "and join you inyour tent, but I must say I don't believe in all this witchcraft."
"Will this Muley-Hassan be well armed?" asked Billy, in a voicewhich was rather shaky, of their black friend.
"Plenty rifles," was Sikaso's brief reply.
"Don't you want a rifle or at least a heavy caliber shotgun?" askedBilly.
The old warrior laughed and swung his mighty axe round his head tillthe blade flashed like a continuous band of steel and the airwhistled at the cleavage of the sharp edge. Then he began to singsoftly a war-song which may be roughly rendered in English thus:
"At dawn I went out with my axe into the red fight; Like the grass before the fire, like the clouds before the wind, I drove them. I, Sikaso, I drove them. There were rivers that day; but the rivers were red. They were the rivers of the blood of my enemies; With my war-axe I killed them. This is the song of mighty Sikaso, and his terrible axe of death."
Although the boys of course did not understand the words, the fiercevoice in which the old warrior intoned the chant made them realizewhat a terrible foe he was likely to prove in battle. But now asSikaso brought his song to a conclusion and rested his axe on theground, leaning on its hilt, he suddenly stiffened into an attitudeof close attention.
"Hark, my white brothers!" he cried, "the war-eagles are gatheringfor the slaughter."
But the slight sound the keen ears of the savage had caught withoutdifficulty was longer in making itself manifest to the two whiteboys. After a few minutes of listening, so intense as to bepainful, they likewise, however, distinctly heard the regular,rhythmic dip of paddles coming down the river.
"There are six war canoes full of them," announced, Sikaso, withalmost a groan, after he had given close attention to the sounds."Alas, my white brothers, there is little use of our giving battle."
"Well, I for one am not going to give up without dropping a few ofthe cowardly wretches," cried Billy.
"Nor I," echoed Lathrop, enthused by Billy's brave example.
The old warrior's eyes kindled as he gazed at the two brave youngAmericans, each clutching his rifle and waiting for the moment toarrive when they could use them.
"If we only had had time to throw up a stockade, my brothers, wemight have driven them off yet," he cried.
"Well, we'll give as good an account of ourselves as possible,"declared Lathrop.
And now began what has been acknowledged to be the most trying partof any engagement, from a duel to a battle--the waiting forhostilities to begin. It seemed that an interminable time hadelapsed from the moment that they heard the first "dip-dip" of thepaddles to the sharp crack of a twig sounded in the jungle directlyahead of them. The snapped branch told them that the enemy'soutposts were reconnoitering to see that the camp was actually, asit s
eemed to be, wrapped in sleep.
Apparently the scout, whoever he was, was soon convinced of the factthat the adventurers were slumbering, for he advanced boldly fromthe dark sheltering shadows of the jungle and emerged into thebright moonlight which flooded the clearing in which the camp stood.
Billy raised his rifle to his shoulder and the next minute wouldhave been the savage scout's last had not old Sikaso sternly seizedand lowered the weapon, saying in a tense whisper:
"The time is not yet ripe, my brother. To fire now would beunnecessarily to give the alarm. Wait until they are massed thickand then fire into the bodies of the Arab dogs."
The scout didn't waste much time in reconnoitering. After a shorttime spent in peering about he dived once more into the forest andBilly whispered to Lathrop:
"Now it's coming, old man."
And come it did.
Five minutes after the scout had dived back into the forest a dozendark forms crept from the bush and stealthily advanced toward thetent.
The leader had reached the door and Billy was frantically imploringold Sikaso to let him shoot when an appalling shriek rent the air.
The old Krooman's axe flashed once in the moonlight and the leaderof the attacking party lay dead at the tent door, severed almost tothe chest.
There was not a second's time, however, to take in what hadhappened. In a flash the whole horde was upon them, and Billy andLathrop began firing desperately into the mass of foemen whoappeared to spring from every side of the clearing at once.
Even in this extremity a strange thought flashed across Billy's,mind:
"Where was Professor Wiseman?"