The Sign of the Spider

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER XVI.

  AN ANGEL UNAWARES.

  Not much sleep did Laurence get that night--such, indeed, as he obtainedbeing of the "with one eye open" order. Simple trust in anybody oranything was not one of his failings, as we think we have shown;wherefore having carefully scrutinized the plastered walls of his rudequarters, he took the precaution to secure the wicker door from theinside, and lay down with his Express, so covering the same that but thevery slightest movement of the hand would be needed on his part in orderto rake from stem to stern whosoever should be so ill-advised as toessay a stealthy ingress.

  Still more would he have applauded his own foresight in taking theseprecautions could he have known that a large portion of the night wasspent by his "entertainers" keenly debating the expediency oftreacherously putting him to death. Here, it was urged, was anopportunity such as might never again come their way. Here was one ofthe leaders of that dreaded band of slave-hunters--one whose very namewas a terror and a scourge. Here was this man actually in their hands.It was in their power to slay him without the smallest risk tothemselves. Let them not miss such an opportunity of setting up his headabove their gates. As for his party, now that its existence was known,they could surprise it, and slaughter every man it contained. They, theWajalu, were numerous, and had good fire-weapons, and knew how to usethem. Why should they not rid the land of this terror? It was in theirpower to do so.

  This sounded all very plausible; many tales do, until their other sideis told. And the other side was unfolded by the head man, Mgara, andothers, much to this effect: The slave-hunters were more numerous thanmany there imagined. They had been reinforced by a large body ofWangoni--fierce and formidable fighters. To surprise and overwhelm sucha force would be impossible, and in the event of failure what wouldtheir own fate be? Moreover, it was certain that the slavers were muchbetter armed than the Wajalu. Their best policy would be to treat theman well; he had already given what was as good as an assurance of hisprotection. These counsels prevailed.

  And soon the wisdom thereof was made manifest, for with earliest dawnone of their scouts came running in with the news that the slave-hunterswere approaching; that they were in great numbers, and mostly armed withrifles; that it was too late for retreat, in that a large detachment hadalready gained a position which was practically such as to surround thevillage.

  The effect of this news was to stamp with an expression of the mostterror-stricken despair the countenance of every man who heard it. ButMgara, remembering the words of their white "guest," hurried to the hutwhere the latter was sleeping.

  Yet as the head man approached the door with a quick deferential wordof greeting, Laurence Stanninghame was wide awake. The talk outside, therapid note of fear underlying the tone, had not escaped him, and eventhough he understood not a word of their talk among themselves he knewwhat these people wanted of him. And the situation looked serious, forhe felt far less confident of his ability to redeem his half-impliedpledge than when, moved by the first instincts of self-preservation, hehad given the same.

  Well, and what then? The extinction of this horde of cannibal barbarianswas a mere trifle, a drop in the bucket, when looked at beside otherdark and ruthless deeds which he had witnessed, and even actually aidedin. But hard, pitiless, utterly impervious to human suffering as he hadbecome, there was one point in Laurence Stanninghame's character--a weakpoint, he regarded it--which he had never succeeded in eradicating. Hecould not forget or ignore a good turn. These people, monstrous,repulsive as they were in his sight, had saved his life--twiceindeed--the first time unconsciously from the Ba-gcatya, the second timefrom themselves. They might have slain him barbarously at almost anymoment--he was but one among a number; yet they had not, but instead hadtreated him hospitably and well. He was resolved, at any risk, to savethem.

  Mgara, entering, lost no time in making known his errand.

  "O stranger guest, whom we have treated as a friend," he began, "save usfrom the slave-yoke, and the guns and spears of your people, for theyare upon us already." And rapidly he narrated the tidings brought in bythe scouts.

  "I will do what I can, Mgara," answered Laurence. "Listen. All yourpeople must retire within the huts; not one must be seen. Further, twoof your men must bear a token from me to El Khanac, my brother-chief,who leads yonder host, and that at once. Now, call those two men."

  Swift of resource, Laurence picked up a flat piece of wood and, scrapingit smooth with his knife, wrote upon it in pencil:

  "_I owe these people my life. Keep ours in hand until we meet._"

  "These are the messengers, Mgara?" he went on, as the head man returnedaccompanied by two men. "Are they reliable, and above all, fearless?"

  "They are both, Sidi," answered the chief, now very deferential. "One ismy son, the other my brother's son."

  "Good. Let them now get a piece of white flaxen cloth, and bind it andthis token to a staff. Then let them seek out El Khanac yonder."

  In a moment this was done, and, bearing the impromptu white flag and thewriting on the board, the two young men started off into the scrub.

  "Retire now into your houses, Mgara, you and all your people. I alonewill stand within the gate, and maybe it will be well with you."

  The Wajalu, who had been hanging on every word, now hastened to obey;nevertheless there was terror and dejection in every face. And theirthoughts were much the same as those of their would-be deliverer. Hadhe the power to make good his word?

  The hot morning hours dragged slowly by, and still no sign of attack.The village was a deserted place, in its brooding, death-like silence,so still, so complete as to render distinctly audible the sweep of thewings of carrion birds circling aloft. The severed heads grinnedhideously from the stockade, and the unearthly molten stillness of thesilent noon was such as to get upon the nerves of the ordinary watcher.But he who now stood there had no nerves--not in a matter of this kind.His experiences had been such as to kill and crush them out of allbeing.

  Ha! What was this? The crows and vultures, which, emboldened by thedeathly silence, had been circling nearer and nearer to the tree tops,suddenly and with one accord shot upward, now seeming mere specks in theblue ether. Then the silence was broken in appalling fashion. Rendingthe air in a terrific note of savagery and blood-thirst, there burstforth the harsh, hissing war-yell of the Wangoni.

  It came from the forest edge on the farther side of the village.Laurence realized, with vexation and concern, that his merciful planwould be extremely difficult to carry out. That these ferociousauxiliaries should be allowed to initiate the attack he had not reckonedupon; and now to restrain them would be a herculean task.

  "Back, back!" he shouted, meeting the crowd of charging savages who,shield and spear uplifted, were bearing down in full career upon thevillage.

  In the headlong, exciting moment of their charge they hardly recognizedhim. Laurence Stanninghame's life hung upon a hair. Then, with a greatburst of laughter, mocking, half defiant, they surged past him. They"saw red," and no power on earth seemed able to stop those human wolvesnow rushing upon their helpless prey.

  "Back, back!" thundered Laurence again. "The village is dead, I tellyou. It is the abode of death!"

  This told. Barbarians have a shrinking horror of infectious disease.Thoughts of smallpox, cholera, what not, arose in the minds of these. Noother consideration on earth could have restrained that charge, yet thisone did. They stopped short.

  "Lo! the stillness, the silence," went on Laurence, pointing to thelifeless village. "Would you, too, travel the voiceless and weaponlesspath of death?"

  But mutterings both loud and deep went through the Wangoni ranks. Whatwas this? They had been ordered to charge--been signalled to charge, andnow they were forbidden to enter the village. "El Afa" (the serpent) hadbeen absent from the expedition, and now turned up here, alone. Savagesare ever suspicious, and these were no exception to the rule of theirkind.

  "_Whau_, what does it mean?" half sneered their leader, scowlingresentfull
y upon Laurence as the warriors crowded around, growling likea pack of baffled wolves. "Had we not better send some in to see ifthese dogs are indeed all dead?"

  "Not so, Mashumbwe," was the unconcerned reply. "Tarry until the othersarrive, then will we act together."

  But a furious clamour arose at the words. The Wangoni did not entirelybelieve the explanation; and to further their doubts there now arosefrom the inside of the huts the puling wail of infants which the mothershad not been entirely able to stifle.

  "_Au_, we will add those to the death number, at least," said the chief,giving the signal to his followers to advance.

  "Not so!" said Laurence decisively. "Hearken, Mashumbwe, you are chiefof your own people, but I am chief of all--_of all_! Not a man stirsuntil El Khanac comes up. Not a man, do you hear?"

  Mashumbwe tossed back his ringed head, and his eyes glared. He was atall, fine savage, with all the pride of mien inseparable from his rankand Zulu blood. Thus they stood, the savage and the white man, lookinginto each other's eyes; the one in a blaze of haughty anger, the othercool, resolute, and absolutely unflinching. How it would end Heavenalone knew.

  But now the very thing that Laurence had been longing for happened. Ahurried murmur ran through the Wangoni lines. The main body of theslave-hunters had emerged from the scrub, and had quietly surrounded thevillage. Laurence was satisfied. He had gained time so far, and with ithis object.

  "What astonishing freak is this, Stanninghame?" said Hazon, who, havingtaken in the situation at a glance, was promptly at his colleague'sside, displaying, too, the piece of pencilled board. "What becomes ofour pact when such a consideration as this comes in?" he continued,meaningly tapping the inscription on the board. "Have we obtained all wewanted on those terms up till now, or not?"

  "No, we haven't; but now, having obtained almost all we wanted, we canafford to do this for once. If it had been your life instead of minethese people had saved twice, Hazon, I would willingly have sparedtheirs; now will you do less for me?"

  "But it will breed a mutiny among our people," said Hazon doubtfully,with a half glance at the crowd of scowling Wangoni.

  "Oh, a mutiny! By all means. We shall know how to deal with that, as wedid before."

  It seemed as though such knowledge were about to be called intorequisition, for the announcement that all this "property" was to berelinquished absolutely was received by the more important section ofthe slave-hunters with a sullen silence more eloquent even that thewolfish growls of the Wangoni. The latter's disappointment lay in thefact that they were balked in giving vent to their instincts of sheersavagery--the delight of plunder and massacre. That of the former,however, was a more weighty factor to reckon with; for the smatter ofcivilization in the Arab and Swahili element had brought with it thecommercial instinct of cupidity. It speaks volumes, therefore, for theascendency which these two resolute white men had set up over their wildand lawless following, that the latter should have contented itself withmere sullen obedience.

  Having gained his point Laurence returned within the village, and,calling Mgara, suggested that some of the people should carry forthfood to their unwelcome visitors.

  "I fear it may leave scarcity in your midst," he added; "but well-fedmen are in better mood than hungry ones, Mgara, and are you not sparedthe slave-yoke and the spear?"

  The head man, with many deferential expressions of gratitude, agreed,and soon a file of women and boys were told off, bringing goats andmillet and rice for the slave-hunters. As they passed tremblingly amongthe ranks of the Wangoni the latter handled their great spearsmeaningly, and with much the same expression of countenance as a catmight wear when contemplating an inaccessible bird cage.

  "Ho, dog!" cried Mashumbwe, as a youth passed before him without makingobeisance. "Do you dare stand before me--before me! thou spawn of theseman-eating jackals? Lo! lie prostrate forever." And with the words hehalf threw, half thrust his great spear into the unfortunate lad's body.The blood spurted forth in a great jet, and, staggering, the boy fell.

  "_Au!_ And am I to be defiled with the blood of such as this," growledthe chief, upon whom several red drops had squirted. "Let that carrionbe removed."

  Several of the Wangoni sprang forward, and, as the quivering body wasdragged away, these savages gave vent to their pent-up ferocity bystabbing it again and again. Having tasted blood they rolled their eyesaround in search of further victims. But the remaining Wajalu hadwithdrawn in terror: and well for all concerned that it was so,otherwise the Wangoni, inspired by the example of their chief, wouldcertainly have commenced a massacre which even the prestige andauthority of Hazon and Laurence combined would have been powerless toquell. But there was no one outside to begin upon, and, though atruculent, unruly crowd, their interests in the long run lay insubmitting to the authority of the white chiefs.

  So the Wajalu rejoiced much, if tremblingly, as the last of the dreadedhost disappeared. For good or for ill their village was spared--sparedto continue its most revolting forms of savagery and cannibalism andparricide--spared for good or for ill in that it had entertained anangel unawares in the person of that hard, pitiless, determinedslave-hunter, Laurence Stanninghame.