6
The Witch-Doctor Seeks Vengeance
LORD GREYSTOKE was hunting, or, to be more accurate, he was shootingpheasants at Chamston-Hedding. Lord Greystoke was immaculately andappropriately garbed--to the minutest detail he was vogue. To be sure,he was among the forward guns, not being considered a sporting shot,but what he lacked in skill he more than made up in appearance. At theend of the day he would, doubtless, have many birds to his credit,since he had two guns and a smart loader--many more birds than he couldeat in a year, even had he been hungry, which he was not, having butjust arisen from the breakfast table.
The beaters--there were twenty-three of them, in white smocks--had butjust driven the birds into a patch of gorse, and were now circling tothe opposite side that they might drive down toward the guns. LordGreystoke was quite as excited as he ever permitted himself to become.There was an exhilaration in the sport that would not be denied. Hefelt his blood tingling through his veins as the beaters approachedcloser and closer to the birds. In a vague and stupid sort of way LordGreystoke felt, as he always felt upon such occasions, that he wasexperiencing a sensation somewhat akin to a reversion to a prehistorictype--that the blood of an ancient forbear was coursing hot throughhim, a hairy, half-naked forbear who had lived by the hunt.
And far away in a matted equatorial jungle another Lord Greystoke, thereal Lord Greystoke, hunted. By the standards which he knew, he, too,was vogue--utterly vogue, as was the primal ancestor before the firsteviction. The day being sultry, the leopard skin had been left behind.The real Lord Greystoke had not two guns, to be sure, nor even one,neither did he have a smart loader; but he possessed somethinginfinitely more efficacious than guns, or loaders, or even twenty-threebeaters in white smocks--he possessed an appetite, an uncannywoodcraft, and muscles that were as steel springs.
Later that day, in England, a Lord Greystoke ate bountifully of thingshe had not killed, and he drank other things which were uncorked to theaccompaniment of much noise. He patted his lips with snowy linen toremove the faint traces of his repast, quite ignorant of the fact thathe was an impostor and that the rightful owner of his noble title waseven then finishing his own dinner in far-off Africa. He was not usingsnowy linen, though. Instead he drew the back of a brown forearm andhand across his mouth and wiped his bloody fingers upon his thighs.Then he moved slowly through the jungle to the drinking place, where,upon all fours, he drank as drank his fellows, the other beasts of thejungle.
As he quenched his thirst, another denizen of the gloomy forestapproached the stream along the path behind him. It was Numa, thelion, tawny of body and black of mane, scowling and sinister, rumblingout low, coughing roars. Tarzan of the Apes heard him long before hecame within sight, but the ape-man went on with his drinking until hehad had his fill; then he arose, slowly, with the easy grace of acreature of the wilds and all the quiet dignity that was his birthright.
Numa halted as he saw the man standing at the very spot where the kingwould drink. His jaws were parted, and his cruel eyes gleamed. Hegrowled and advanced slowly. The man growled, too, backing slowly toone side, and watching, not the lion's face, but its tail. Should thatcommence to move from side to side in quick, nervous jerks, it would bewell to be upon the alert, and should it rise suddenly erect, straightand stiff, then one might prepare to fight or flee; but it did neither,so Tarzan merely backed away and the lion came down and drank scarcefifty feet from where the man stood.
Tomorrow they might be at one another's throats, but today thereexisted one of those strange and inexplicable truces which so often areseen among the savage ones of the jungle. Before Numa had finisheddrinking, Tarzan had returned into the forest, and was swinging away inthe direction of the village of Mbonga, the black chief.
It had been at least a moon since the ape-man had called upon theGomangani. Not since he had restored little Tibo to his grief-strickenmother had the whim seized him to do so. The incident of the adoptedbalu was a closed one to Tarzan. He had sought to find something uponwhich to lavish such an affection as Teeka lavished upon her balu, buta short experience of the little black boy had made it quite plain tothe ape-man that no such sentiment could exist between them.
The fact that he had for a time treated the little black as he mighthave treated a real balu of his own had in no way altered the vengefulsentiments with which he considered the murderers of Kala. TheGomangani were his deadly enemies, nor could they ever be aught else.Today he looked forward to some slight relief from the monotony of hisexistence in such excitement as he might derive from baiting the blacks.
It was not yet dark when he reached the village and took his place inthe great tree overhanging the palisade. From beneath came a greatwailing out of the depths of a near-by hut. The noise felldisagreeably upon Tarzan's ears--it jarred and grated. He did not likeit, so he decided to go away for a while in the hopes that it mightcease; but though he was gone for a couple of hours the wailing stillcontinued when he returned.
With the intention of putting a violent termination to the annoyingsound, Tarzan slipped silently from the tree into the shadows beneath.Creeping stealthily and keeping well in the cover of other huts, heapproached that from which rose the sounds of lamentation. A fireburned brightly before the doorway as it did before other doorways inthe village. A few females squatted about, occasionally adding theirown mournful howlings to those of the master artist within.
The ape-man smiled a slow smile as he thought of the consternationwhich would follow the quick leap that would carry him among thefemales and into the full light of the fire. Then he would dart intothe hut during the excitement, throttle the chief screamer, and be goneinto the jungle before the blacks could gather their scattered nervesfor an assault.
Many times had Tarzan behaved similarly in the village of Mbonga, thechief. His mysterious and unexpected appearances always filled thebreasts of the poor, superstitious blacks with the panic of terror;never, it seemed, could they accustom themselves to the sight of him.It was this terror which lent to the adventures the spice of interestand amusement which the human mind of the ape-man craved. Merely tokill was not in itself sufficient. Accustomed to the sight of death,Tarzan found no great pleasure in it. Long since had he avenged thedeath of Kala, but in the accomplishment of it, he had learned theexcitement and the pleasure to be derived from the baiting of theblacks. Of this he never tired.
It was just as he was about to spring forward with a savage roar that afigure appeared in the doorway of the hut. It was the figure of thewailer whom he had come to still, the figure of a young woman with awooden skewer through the split septum of her nose, with a heavy metalornament depending from her lower lip, which it had dragged down tohideous and repulsive deformity, with strange tattooing upon forehead,cheeks, and breasts, and a wonderful coiffure built up with mud andwire.
A sudden flare of the fire threw the grotesque figure into high relief,and Tarzan recognized her as Momaya, the mother of Tibo. The fire alsothrew out a fitful flame which carried to the shadows where Tarzanlurked, picking out his light brown body from the surrounding darkness.Momaya saw him and knew him. With a cry, she leaped forward and Tarzancame to meet her. The other women, turning, saw him, too; but they didnot come toward him. Instead they rose as one, shrieked as one, fledas one.
Momaya threw herself at Tarzan's feet, raising supplicating handstoward him and pouring forth from her mutilated lips a perfect cataractof words, not one of which the ape-man comprehended. For a moment helooked down upon the upturned, frightful face of the woman. He hadcome to slay, but that overwhelming torrent of speech filled him withconsternation and with awe. He glanced about him apprehensively, thenback at the woman. A revulsion of feeling seized him. He could notkill little Tibo's mother, nor could he stand and face this verbalgeyser. With a quick gesture of impatience at the spoiling of hisevening's entertainment, he wheeled and leaped away into the darkness.A moment later he was swinging through the
black jungle night, thecries and lamentations of Momaya growing fainter in the distance.
It was with a sigh of relief that he finally reached a point from whichhe could no longer hear them, and finding a comfortable crotch highamong the trees, composed himself for a night of dreamless slumber,while a prowling lion moaned and coughed beneath him, and in far-offEngland the other Lord Greystoke, with the assistance of a valet,disrobed and crawled between spotless sheets, swearing irritably as acat meowed beneath his window.
As Tarzan followed the fresh spoor of Horta, the boar, the followingmorning, he came upon the tracks of two Gomangani, a large one and asmall one. The ape-man, accustomed as he was to questioning closelyall that fell to his perceptions, paused to read the story written inthe soft mud of the game trail. You or I would have seen little ofinterest there, even if, by chance, we could have seen aught. Perhapshad one been there to point them out to us, we might have notedindentations in the mud, but there were countless indentations, oneoverlapping another into a confusion that would have been entirelymeaningless to us. To Tarzan each told its own story. Tantor, theelephant, had passed that way as recently as three suns since. Numahad hunted here the night just gone, and Horta, the boar, had walkedslowly along the trail within an hour; but what held Tarzan's attentionwas the spoor tale of the Gomangani. It told him that the day beforean old man had gone toward the north in company with a little boy, andthat with them had been two hyenas.
Tarzan scratched his head in puzzled incredulity. He could see by theoverlapping of the footprints that the beasts had not been followingthe two, for sometimes one was ahead of them and one behind, and againboth were in advance, or both were in the rear. It was very strangeand quite inexplicable, especially where the spoor showed where thehyenas in the wider portions of the path had walked one on either sideof the human pair, quite close to them. Then Tarzan read in the spoorof the smaller Gomangani a shrinking terror of the beast that brushedhis side, but in that of the old man was no sign of fear.
At first Tarzan had been solely occupied by the remarkablejuxtaposition of the spoor of Dango and Gomangani, but now his keeneyes caught something in the spoor of the little Gomangani whichbrought him to a sudden stop. It was as though, finding a letter inthe road, you suddenly had discovered in it the familiar handwriting ofa friend.
"Go-bu-balu!" exclaimed the ape-man, and at once memory flashed uponthe screen of recollection the supplicating attitude of Momaya as shehad hurled herself before him in the village of Mbonga the nightbefore. Instantly all was explained--the wailing and lamentation, thepleading of the black mother, the sympathetic howling of the shes aboutthe fire. Little Go-bu-balu had been stolen again, and this time byanother than Tarzan. Doubtless the mother had thought that he wasagain in the power of Tarzan of the Apes, and she had been beseechinghim to return her balu to her.
Yes, it was all quite plain now; but who could have stolen Go-bu-baluthis time? Tarzan wondered, and he wondered, too, about the presence ofDango. He would investigate. The spoor was a day old and it rantoward the north. Tarzan set out to follow it. In places it wastotally obliterated by the passage of many beasts, and where the waywas rocky, even Tarzan of the Apes was almost baffled; but there wasstill the faint effluvium which clung to the human spoor, appreciableonly to such highly trained perceptive powers as were Tarzan's.
It had all happened to little Tibo very suddenly and unexpectedlywithin the brief span of two suns. First had come Bukawai, thewitch-doctor--Bukawai, the unclean--with the ragged bit of flesh whichstill clung to his rotting face. He had come alone and by day to theplace at the river where Momaya went daily to wash her body and that ofTibo, her little boy. He had stepped out from behind a great bushquite close to Momaya, frightening little Tibo so that he ran screamingto his mother's protecting arms.
But Momaya, though startled, had wheeled to face the fearsome thingwith all the savage ferocity of a she-tiger at bay. When she saw whoit was, she breathed a sigh of partial relief, though she still clungtightly to Tibo.
"I have come," said Bukawai without preliminary, "for the three fatgoats, the new sleeping mat, and the bit of copper wire as long as atall man's arm."
"I have no goats for you," snapped Momaya, "nor a sleeping mat, nor anywire. Your medicine was never made. The white jungle god gave me backmy Tibo. You had nothing to do with it."
"But I did," mumbled Bukawai through his fleshless jaws. "It was I whocommanded the white jungle god to give back your Tibo."
Momaya laughed in his face. "Speaker of lies," she cried, "go back toyour foul den and your hyenas. Go back and hide your stinking face inthe belly of the mountain, lest the sun, seeing it, cover his face witha black cloud."
"I have come," reiterated Bukawai, "for the three fat goats, the newsleeping mat, and the bit of copper wire the length of a tall man'sarm, which you were to pay me for the return of your Tibo."
"It was to be the length of a man's forearm," corrected Momaya, "butyou shall have nothing, old thief. You would not make medicine until Ihad brought the payment in advance, and when I was returning to myvillage the great, white jungle god gave me back my Tibo--gave him tome out of the jaws of Numa. His medicine is true medicine--yours isthe weak medicine of an old man with a hole in his face."
"I have come," repeated Bukawai patiently, "for the three fat--" ButMomaya had not waited to hear more of what she already knew by heart.Clasping Tibo close to her side, she was hurrying away toward thepalisaded village of Mbonga, the chief.
And the next day, when Momaya was working in the plantain field withothers of the women of the tribe, and little Tibo had been playing atthe edge of the jungle, casting a small spear in anticipation of thedistant day when he should be a full-fledged warrior, Bukawai had comeagain.
Tibo had seen a squirrel scampering up the bole of a great tree. Hischildish mind had transformed it into the menacing figure of a hostilewarrior. Little Tibo had raised his tiny spear, his heart filled withthe savage blood lust of his race, as he pictured the night's orgy whenhe should dance about the corpse of his human kill as the women of histribe prepared the meat for the feast to follow.
But when he cast the spear, he missed both squirrel and tree, losinghis missile far among the tangled undergrowth of the jungle. However,it could be but a few steps within the forbidden labyrinth. The womenwere all about in the field. There were warriors on guard within easyhail, and so little Tibo boldly ventured into the dark place.
Just behind the screen of creepers and matted foliage lurked threehorrid figures--an old, old man, black as the pit, with a face halfeaten away by leprosy, his sharp-filed teeth, the teeth of a cannibal,showing yellow and repulsive through the great gaping hole where hismouth and nose had been. And beside him, equally hideous, stood twopowerful hyenas--carrion-eaters consorting with carrion.
Tibo did not see them until, head down, he had forced his way throughthe thickly growing vines in search of his little spear, and then itwas too late. As he looked up into the face of Bukawai, the oldwitch-doctor seized him, muffling his screams with a palm across hismouth. Tibo struggled futilely.
A moment later he was being hustled away through the dark and terriblejungle, the frightful old man still muffling his screams, and the twohideous hyenas pacing now on either side, now before, now behind,always prowling, always growling, snapping, snarling, or, worst of all,laughing hideously.
To little Tibo, who within his brief existence had passed through suchexperiences as are given to few to pass through in a lifetime, thenorthward journey was a nightmare of terror. He thought now of thetime that he had been with the great, white jungle god, and he prayedwith all his little soul that he might be back again with thewhite-skinned giant who consorted with the hairy tree men.Terror-stricken he had been then, but his surroundings had been nothingby comparison with those which he now endured.
The old man seldom addressed Tibo, though he kept up an almostcontinuous mumbling throughout the long day. Tibo caught repeatedreference
s to fat goats, sleeping mats, and pieces of copper wire."Ten fat goats, ten fat goats," the old Negro would croon over and overagain. By this little Tibo guessed that the price of his ransom hadrisen. Ten fat goats? Where would his mother get ten fat goats, orthin ones, either, for that matter, to buy back just a poor little boy?Mbonga would never let her have them, and Tibo knew that his fathernever had owned more than three goats at the same time in all his life.Ten fat goats! Tibo sniffled. The putrid old man would kill him andeat him, for the goats would never be forthcoming. Bukawai would throwhis bones to the hyenas. The little black boy shuddered and became soweak that he almost fell in his tracks. Bukawai cuffed him on an earand jerked him along.
After what seemed an eternity to Tibo, they arrived at the mouth of acave between two rocky hills. The opening was low and narrow. A fewsaplings bound together with strips of rawhide closed it against straybeasts. Bukawai removed the primitive door and pushed Tibo within.The hyenas, snarling, rushed past him and were lost to view in theblackness of the interior. Bukawai replaced the saplings and seizingTibo roughly by the arm, dragged him along a narrow, rocky passage.The floor was comparatively smooth, for the dirt which lay thick uponit had been trodden and tramped by many feet until few inequalitiesremained.
The passage was tortuous, and as it was very dark and the walls roughand rocky, Tibo was scratched and bruised from the many bumps hereceived. Bukawai walked as rapidly through the winding gallery as onewould traverse a familiar lane by daylight. He knew every twist andturn as a mother knows the face of her child, and he seemed to be in ahurry. He jerked poor little Tibo possibly a trifle more ruthlesslythan necessary even at the pace Bukawai set; but the old witch-doctor,an outcast from the society of man, diseased, shunned, hated, feared,was far from possessing an angelic temper. Nature had given him few ofthe kindlier characteristics of man, and these few Fate had eradicatedentirely. Shrewd, cunning, cruel, vindictive, was Bukawai, thewitch-doctor.
Frightful tales were whispered of the cruel tortures he inflicted uponhis victims. Children were frightened into obedience by the threat ofhis name. Often had Tibo been thus frightened, and now he was reapinga grisly harvest of terror from the seeds his mother had innocentlysown. The darkness, the presence of the dreaded witch-doctor, the painof the contusions, with a haunting premonition of the future, and thefear of the hyenas combined to almost paralyze the child. He stumbledand reeled until Bukawai was dragging rather than leading him.
Presently Tibo saw a faint lightness ahead of them, and a moment laterthey emerged into a roughly circular chamber to which a little daylightfiltered through a rift in the rocky ceiling. The hyenas were thereahead of them, waiting. As Bukawai entered with Tibo, the beasts slunktoward them, baring yellow fangs. They were hungry. Toward Tibo theycame, and one snapped at his naked legs. Bukawai seized a stick fromthe floor of the chamber and struck a vicious blow at the beast, at thesame time mumbling forth a volley of execrations. The hyena dodged andran to the side of the chamber, where he stood growling. Bukawai tooka step toward the creature, which bristled with rage at his approach.Fear and hatred shot from its evil eyes, but, fortunately for Bukawai,fear predominated.
Seeing that he was unnoticed, the second beast made a short, quick rushfor Tibo. The child screamed and darted after the witch-doctor, whonow turned his attention to the second hyena. This one he reached withhis heavy stick, striking it repeatedly and driving it to the wall.There the two carrion-eaters commenced to circle the chamber while thehuman carrion, their master, now in a perfect frenzy of demoniacalrage, ran to and fro in an effort to intercept them, striking out withhis cudgel and lashing them with his tongue, calling down upon them thecurses of whatever gods and demons he could summon to memory, anddescribing in lurid figures the ignominy of their ancestors.
Several times one or the other of the beasts would turn to make a standagainst the witch-doctor, and then Tibo would hold his breath inagonized terror, for never in his brief life had he seen such frightfulhatred depicted upon the countenance of man or beast; but always fearovercame the rage of the savage creatures, so that they resumed theirflight, snarling and bare-fanged, just at the moment that Tibo wascertain they would spring at Bukawai's throat.
At last the witch-doctor tired of the futile chase. With a snarl quiteas bestial as those of the beast, he turned toward Tibo. "I go tocollect the ten fat goats, the new sleeping mat, and the two pieces ofcopper wire that your mother will pay for the medicine I shall make tobring you back to her," he said. "You will stay here. There," and hepointed toward the passage which they had followed to the chamber, "Iwill leave the hyenas. If you try to escape, they will eat you."
He cast aside the stick and called to the beasts. They came, snarlingand slinking, their tails between their legs. Bukawai led them to thepassage and drove them into it. Then he dragged a rude lattice intoplace before the opening after he, himself, had left the chamber."This will keep them from you," he said. "If I do not get the ten fatgoats and the other things, they shall at least have a few bones afterI am through." And he left the boy to think over the meaning of hisall-too-suggestive words.
When he was gone, Tibo threw himself upon the earth floor and brokeinto childish sobs of terror and loneliness. He knew that his motherhad no ten fat goats to give and that when Bukawai returned, littleTibo would be killed and eaten. How long he lay there he did not know,but presently he was aroused by the growling of the hyenas. They hadreturned through the passage and were glaring at him from beyond thelattice. He could see their yellow eyes blazing through the darkness.They reared up and clawed at the barrier. Tibo shivered and withdrewto the opposite side of the chamber. He saw the lattice sag and swayto the attacks of the beasts. Momentarily he expected that it wouldfall inward, letting the creatures upon him.
Wearily the horror-ridden hours dragged their slow way. Night came,and for a time Tibo slept, but it seemed that the hungry beasts neverslept. Always they stood just beyond the lattice growling theirhideous growls or laughing their hideous laughs. Through the narrowrift in the rocky roof above him, Tibo could see a few stars, and oncethe moon crossed. At last daylight came again. Tibo was very hungryand thirsty, for he had not eaten since the morning before, and onlyonce upon the long march had he been permitted to drink, but evenhunger and thirst were almost forgotten in the terror of his position.
It was after daylight that the child discovered a second opening in thewalls of the subterranean chamber, almost opposite that at which thehyenas still stood glaring hungrily at him. It was only a narrow slitin the rocky wall. It might lead in but a few feet, or it might leadto freedom! Tibo approached it and looked within. He could seenothing. He extended his arm into the blackness, but he dared notventure farther. Bukawai never would have left open a way of escape,Tibo reasoned, so this passage must lead either nowhere or to somestill more hideous danger.
To the boy's fear of the actual dangers which menaced him--Bukawai andthe two hyenas--his superstition added countless others quite toohorrible even to name, for in the lives of the blacks, through theshadows of the jungle day and the black horrors of the jungle night,flit strange, fantastic shapes peopling the already hideously peopledforests with menacing figures, as though the lion and the leopard, thesnake and the hyena, and the countless poisonous insects were not quitesufficient to strike terror to the hearts of the poor, simple creatureswhose lot is cast in earth's most fearsome spot.
And so it was that little Tibo cringed not only from real menaces butfrom imaginary ones. He was afraid even to venture upon a road thatmight lead to escape, lest Bukawai had set to watch it some frightfuldemon of the jungle.
But the real menaces suddenly drove the imaginary ones from the boy'smind, for with the coming of daylight the half-famished hyenas renewedtheir efforts to break down the frail barrier which kept them fromtheir prey. Rearing upon their hind feet they clawed and struck at thelattice. With wide eyes Tibo saw it sag and rock. Not for long, heknew, could it withstand
the assaults of these two powerful anddetermined brutes. Already one corner had been forced past the rockyprotuberance of the entrance way which had held it in place. A shaggyforearm protruded into the chamber. Tibo trembled as with ague, for heknew that the end was near.
Backing against the farther wall he stood flattened out as far from thebeasts as he could get. He saw the lattice give still more. He saw asavage, snarling head forced past it, and grinning jaws snapping andgaping toward him. In another instant the pitiful fabric would fallinward, and the two would be upon him, rending his flesh from hisbones, gnawing the bones themselves, fighting for possession of hisentrails.
* * *
Bukawai came upon Momaya outside the palisade of Mbonga, the chief. Atsight of him the woman drew back in revulsion, then she flew at him,tooth and nail; but Bukawai threatening her with a spear held her at asafe distance.
"Where is my baby?" she cried. "Where is my little Tibo?"
Bukawai opened his eyes in well-simulated amazement. "Your baby!" heexclaimed. "What should I know of him, other than that I rescued himfrom the white god of the jungle and have not yet received my pay. Icome for the goats and the sleeping mat and the piece of copper wirethe length of a tall man's arm from the shoulder to the tips of hisfingers." "Offal of a hyena!" shrieked Momaya. "My child has beenstolen, and you, rotting fragment of a man, have taken him. Return himto me or I shall tear your eyes from your head and feed your heart tothe wild hogs."
Bukawai shrugged his shoulders. "What do I know about your child?" heasked. "I have not taken him. If he is stolen again, what shouldBukawai know of the matter? Did Bukawai steal him before? No, the whitejungle god stole him, and if he stole him once he would steal himagain. It is nothing to me. I returned him to you before and I havecome for my pay. If he is gone and you would have him returned,Bukawai will return him--for ten fat goats, a new sleeping mat and twopieces of copper wire the length of a tall man's arm from the shoulderto the tips of his fingers, and Bukawai will say nothing more about thegoats and the sleeping mat and the copper wire which you were to payfor the first medicine."
"Ten fat goats!" screamed Momaya. "I could not pay you ten fat goatsin as many years. Ten fat goats, indeed!"
"Ten fat goats," repeated Bukawai. "Ten fat goats, the new sleepingmat and two pieces of copper wire the length of--"
Momaya stopped him with an impatient gesture. "Wait!" she cried. "Ihave no goats. You waste your breath. Stay here while I go to my man.He has but three goats, yet something may be done. Wait!"
Bukawai sat down beneath a tree. He felt quite content, for he knewthat he should have either payment or revenge. He did not fear harm atthe hands of these people of another tribe, although he well knew thatthey must fear and hate him. His leprosy alone would prevent theirlaying hands upon him, while his reputation as a witch-doctor renderedhim doubly immune from attack. He was planning upon compelling them todrive the ten goats to the mouth of his cave when Momaya returned.With her were three warriors--Mbonga, the chief, Rabba Kega, thevillage witch-doctor, and Ibeto, Tibo's father. They were not prettymen even under ordinary circumstances, and now, with their faces markedby anger, they well might have inspired terror in the heart of anyone;but if Bukawai felt any fear, he did not betray it. Instead he greetedthem with an insolent stare, intended to awe them, as they came andsquatted in a semi-circle before him.
"Where is Ibeto's son?" asked Mbonga.
"How should I know?" returned Bukawai. "Doubtless the white devil-godhas him. If I am paid I will make strong medicine and then we shallknow where is Ibeto's son, and shall get him back again. It was mymedicine which got him back the last time, for which I got no pay."
"I have my own witch-doctor to make medicine," replied Mbonga withdignity.
Bukawai sneered and rose to his feet. "Very well," he said, "let himmake his medicine and see if he can bring Ibeto's son back." He took afew steps away from them, and then he turned angrily back. "Hismedicine will not bring the child back--that I know, and I also knowthat when you find him it will be too late for any medicine to bringhim back, for he will be dead. This have I just found out, the ghostof my father's sister but now came to me and told me."
Now Mbonga and Rabba Kega might not take much stock in their own magic,and they might even be skeptical as to the magic of another; but therewas always a chance of _something_ being in it, especially if it were nottheir own. Was it not well known that old Bukawai had speech with thedemons themselves and that two even lived with him in the forms ofhyenas! Still they must not accede too hastily. There was the price tobe considered, and Mbonga had no intention of parting lightly with tengoats to obtain the return of a single little boy who might die ofsmallpox long before he reached a warrior's estate.
"Wait," said Mbonga. "Let us see some of your magic, that we may knowif it be good magic. Then we can talk about payment. Rabba Kega willmake some magic, too. We will see who makes the best magic. Sit down,Bukawai."
"The payment will be ten goats--fat goats--a new sleeping mat and twopieces of copper wire the length of a tall man's arm from the shoulderto the ends of his fingers, and it will be made in advance, the goatsbeing driven to my cave. Then will I make the medicine, and on thesecond day the boy will be returned to his mother. It cannot be donemore quickly than that because it takes time to make such strongmedicine."
"Make us some medicine now," said Mbonga. "Let us see what sort ofmedicine you make."
"Bring me fire," replied Bukawai, "and I will make you a little magic."
Momaya was dispatched for the fire, and while she was away Mbongadickered with Bukawai about the price. Ten goats, he said, was a highprice for an able-bodied warrior. He also called Bukawai's attentionto the fact that he, Mbonga, was very poor, that his people were verypoor, and that ten goats were at least eight too many, to say nothingof a new sleeping mat and the copper wire; but Bukawai was adamant.His medicine was very expensive and he would have to give at least fivegoats to the gods who helped him make it. They were still arguing whenMomaya returned with the fire.
Bukawai placed a little on the ground before him, took a pinch ofpowder from a pouch at his side and sprinkled it on the embers. Acloud of smoke rose with a puff. Bukawai closed his eyes and rockedback and forth. Then he made a few passes in the air and pretended toswoon. Mbonga and the others were much impressed. Rabba Kega grewnervous. He saw his reputation waning. There was some fire left inthe vessel which Momaya had brought. He seized the vessel, dropped ahandful of dry leaves into it while no one was watching and thenuttered a frightful scream which drew the attention of Bukawai'saudience to him. It also brought Bukawai quite miraculously out of hisswoon, but when the old witch-doctor saw the reason for the disturbancehe quickly relapsed into unconsciousness before anyone discovered his_faux pas_.
Rabba Kega, seeing that he had the attention of Mbonga, Ibeto, andMomaya, blew suddenly into the vessel, with the result that the leavescommenced to smolder, and smoke issued from the mouth of thereceptacle. Rabba Kega was careful to hold it so that none might seethe dry leaves. Their eyes opened wide at this remarkabledemonstration of the village witch-doctor's powers. The latter,greatly elated, let himself out. He shouted, jumped up and down, andmade frightful grimaces; then he put his face close over the mouth ofthe vessel and appeared to be communing with the spirits within.
It was while he was thus engaged that Bukawai came out of his trance,his curiosity finally having gotten the better of him. No one waspaying him the slightest attention. He blinked his one eye angrily,then he, too, let out a loud roar, and when he was sure that Mbonga hadturned toward him, he stiffened rigidly and made spasmodic movementswith his arms and legs.
"I see him!" he cried. "He is far away. The white devil-god did notget him. He is alone and in great danger; but," he added, "if the tenfat goats and the other things are paid to me quickly there is yet timeto save him."
Rabba Kega had paused to listen. Mbonga looked toward him. T
he chiefwas in a quandary. He did not know which medicine was the better."What does your magic tell you?" he asked of Rabba Kega.
"I, too, see him," screamed Rabba Kega; "but he is not where Bukawaisays he is. He is dead at the bottom of the river."
At this Momaya commenced to howl loudly.
Tarzan had followed the spoor of the old man, the two hyenas, and thelittle black boy to the mouth of the cave in the rocky canyon betweenthe two hills. Here he paused a moment before the sapling barrierwhich Bukawai had set up, listening to the snarls and growls which camefaintly from the far recesses of the cavern.
Presently, mingled with the beastly cries, there came faintly to thekeen ears of the ape-man, the agonized moan of a child. No longer didTarzan hesitate. Hurling the door aside, he sprang into the darkopening. Narrow and black was the corridor; but long use of his eyesin the Stygian blackness of the jungle nights had given to the ape-mansomething of the nocturnal visionary powers of the wild things withwhich he had consorted since babyhood.
He moved rapidly and yet with caution, for the place was dark,unfamiliar and winding. As he advanced, he heard more and more loudlythe savage snarls of the two hyenas, mingled with the scraping andscratching of their paws upon wood. The moans of a child grew involume, and Tarzan recognized in them the voice of the little black boyhe once had sought to adopt as his balu.
There was no hysteria in the ape-man's advance. Too accustomed was heto the passing of life in the jungle to be greatly wrought even by thedeath of one whom he knew; but the lust for battle spurred him on. Hewas only a wild beast at heart and his wild beast's heart beat high inanticipation of conflict.
In the rocky chamber of the hill's center, little Tibo crouched lowagainst the wall as far from the hunger-crazed beasts as he could draghimself. He saw the lattice giving to the frantic clawing of thehyenas. He knew that in a few minutes his little life would flickerout horribly beneath the rending, yellow fangs of these loathsomecreatures.
Beneath the buffetings of the powerful bodies, the lattice saggedinward, until, with a crash it gave way, letting the carnivora in uponthe boy. Tibo cast one affrighted glance toward them, then closed hiseyes and buried his face in his arms, sobbing piteously.
For a moment the hyenas paused, caution and cowardice holding them fromtheir prey. They stood thus glaring at the lad, then slowly,stealthily, crouching, they crept toward him. It was thus that Tarzancame upon them, bursting into the chamber swiftly and silently; but notso silently that the keen-eared beasts did not note his coming. Withangry growls they turned from Tibo upon the ape-man, as, with a smileupon his lips, he ran toward them. For an instant one of the animalsstood its ground; but the ape-man did not deign even to draw hishunting knife against despised Dango. Rushing in upon the brute hegrasped it by the scruff of the neck, just as it attempted to dodgepast him, and hurled it across the cavern after its fellow whichalready was slinking into the corridor, bent upon escape.
Then Tarzan picked Tibo from the floor, and when the child felt humanhands upon him instead of the paws and fangs of the hyenas, he rolledhis eyes upward in surprise and incredulity, and as they fell uponTarzan, sobs of relief broke from the childish lips and his handsclutched at his deliverer as though the white devil-god was not themost feared of jungle creatures.
When Tarzan came to the cave mouth the hyenas were nowhere in sight,and after permitting Tibo to quench his thirst in the spring which rosenear by, he lifted the boy to his shoulders and set off toward thejungle at a rapid trot, determined to still the annoying howlings ofMomaya as quickly as possible, for he shrewdly had guessed that theabsence of her balu was the cause of her lamentation.
"He is not dead at the bottom of the river," cried Bukawai. "What doesthis fellow know about making magic? Who is he, anyway, that he daresay Bukawai's magic is not good magic? Bukawai sees Momaya's son. Heis far away and alone and in great danger. Hasten then with the tenfat goats, the--"
But he got no further. There was a sudden interruption from above,from the branches of the very tree beneath which they squatted, and asthe five blacks looked up they almost swooned in fright as they saw thegreat, white devil-god looking down upon them; but before they couldflee they saw another face, that of the lost little Tibo, and his facewas laughing and very happy.
And then Tarzan dropped fearlessly among them, the boy still upon hisback, and deposited him before his mother. Momaya, Ibeto, Rabba Kega,and Mbonga were all crowding around the lad trying to question him atthe same time. Suddenly Momaya turned ferociously to fall uponBukawai, for the boy had told her all that he had suffered at the handsof the cruel old man; but Bukawai was no longer there--he had requiredno recourse to black art to assure him that the vicinity of Momayawould be no healthful place for him after Tibo had told his story, andnow he was running through the jungle as fast as his old legs wouldcarry him toward the distant lair where he knew no black would darepursue him.
Tarzan, too, had vanished, as he had a way of doing, to themystification of the blacks. Then Momaya's eyes lighted upon RabbaKega. The village witch-doctor saw something in those eyes of herswhich boded no good to him, and backed away.
"So my Tibo is dead at the bottom of the river, is he?" the womanshrieked. "And he's far away and alone and in great danger, is he?Magic!" The scorn which Momaya crowded into that single word would havedone credit to a Thespian of the first magnitude. "Magic, indeed!" shescreamed. "Momaya will show you some magic of her own," and with thatshe seized upon a broken limb and struck Rabba Kega across the head.With a howl of pain, the man turned and fled, Momaya pursuing him andbeating him across the shoulders, through the gateway and up the lengthof the village street, to the intense amusement of the warriors, thewomen, and the children who were so fortunate as to witness thespectacle, for one and all feared Rabba Kega, and to fear is to hate.
Thus it was that to his host of passive enemies, Tarzan of the Apesadded that day two active foes, both of whom remained awake long intothe night planning means of revenge upon the white devil-god who hadbrought them into ridicule and disrepute, but with their mostmalevolent schemings was mingled a vein of real fear and awe that wouldnot down.
Young Lord Greystoke did not know that they planned against him, nor,knowing, would have cared. He slept as well that night as he did onany other night, and though there was no roof above him, and no doorsto lock against intruders, he slept much better than his noble relativein England, who had eaten altogether too much lobster and drank toomuch wine at dinner that night.
Jungle Tales of Tarzan Page 6
