About eleven o’clock on their third night, Chéri-Bibi fell asleep, utterly done up, and the Nut was mounting guard. With rifle in hand he listened to the weird night noises of the forest, and often he gave a start, imagining that he heard a stirring in the underwood, and even, as Chéri-Bibi said, a man’s breathing.
Once or twice he got up to make a tour of the camp, stopping with ears on the alert, and taking a step forward only with the greatest caution. Chéri-Bibi’s stories of forest witchcraft were like an obsession on his restless mind.
Several times he stared into the darkness ready to fire; and then he laughed at his childish fears and came back and sat down beside Chéri-Bibi.
Nearly an hour passed in this way. Suddenly there was a very distinct creaking, as of some body bearing down upon making its way through the undergrowth. And then he caught a sigh — it was very distinctly a breath, for it was something more than a sigh — like a human whisper.
The Nut shook Chéri-Bibi who, however, slept on. He reproached himself for trying to awaken him from his heavy slumber; and so as to make sure that he was not the victim of his over-excited nerves, he stole, with rifle at the ready, towards the sound which he fancied he had heard.
The noise was repeated, but it seemed to be moving away.
The Nut went forward boldly, and suddenly emerged into a small clearing, in the center of which was a native on his knees with arms upraised in the shining moon, sighing and, seemingly, giving himself up to infinitely sad incantations.
It was an Indian clad simply in the skin of a carnivora. His face was curiously tattooed, while his long hair was parted in the middle. His eyes gleamed in the dusk like the luminous eyes of an animal while he sobbed forth his muffled and singular litany wherein ever and anon occurred the refrain: “Galatha! Galatha! Galatha!”
He failed to perceive the Nut, who stood hidden behind a tree. “That’s a magician, a piaye, who is calling upon Yoloch or Goudon,” said the Nut to himself. But he had no desire to break in upon the man’s supplications.
Suddenly the piaye was surrounded by a band of infuriated redskins, whose leaping shadows appeared enormous to the Nut and filled him with affright. They seemed to be bounding as high as the trees, and the play of the moonlight through the branches lent itself to the fancies of a man who had been listening all day to exciting and fantastic stories of the forest.
He fled, convinced that he had seen the Oyaricoulets, and he gave no rest to Chéri-Bibi until he allowed himself to be dragged away still half asleep. At last when he was entirely awake in the early morning, and the dreaded country was left far behind, he said:
“Tell me what you saw.”
“I saw the Oyaricoulets.”
“But what else?”
“They were preparing to commit every sort of crime, and dancing like madmen round a magician who broke forth into frightful lamentations, crying ‘Galatha! Galatha!’”
“Well, it was some poor man who was mourning the death of his wife, his galatha. And you were witnessing a sort of mass for the repose of her soul.... May Goudon protect her and defend us from Yoloch! It takes very little to astonish you.” During the remainder of the day Chéri-Bibi gave particular attention to the physical features of the country through which they were passing. In the afternoon his face lit up with a smile; and the Nut surmised that all was as well as well could be with them.
They left the Pupa and were following the course of another river which flowed towards the northeast. Strangely enough the forest was no longer inimical to them. Everything, on the contrary, seemed to assist them in their purpose. They came across a path which enabled them to cover a considerable tract of ground without unduly fatiguing themselves.
At last, in the evening, they reached the top of a wooded height, from which Chéri-Bibi could point out to the Nut the gold diggings and the village in which the prospectors lived.
CHAPTER VIII
THE GOLD-SEEKERS
THE BAR AND store which Senor Sanda had set up in the heart of the gold-prospecting district stood on the banks of a stream which, some three days’ march farther on emptied itself into the Oyapok, a river which constituted the frontier between French Guiana and Brazil. The bar was an establishment similar to those, called albacen, which are to be found in the forest solitudes of Gran Chaco.
Here everything was sold that could be of use to the worker in the forest — tools, provisions, preserves, tinware, clothes, arms, munitions and every variety of alcohol. It was at once a bar and a grocer’s shop. It was likewise a gaming-house. Men entered it with their pockets well filled with gold dust, and left it to work in the “sluices,” having lost their all. Other men quickly made a fortune, but they did not keep it long. Truth to tell, Senor Sanda was the only man in the place who grew rich.
One Sunday, in the large saloon bar, constructed of wooden planks with a corrugated iron roof, men were having an exciting game at the table, at the far end of the room, near the counter behind which Sanda, assisted by his “boys,” was serving out rum and Indian spirits to chance customers.
At the gaming-table gold dust passed from one hand to another, and little bags were emptied on the turn of the dice or filled to an accompaniment of shouts, protests and a general uproar, which were followed suddenly by intervals of intense silence.
Near the door the Parisian, the Burglar, the Caid and the Joker were seated at a table with a bottle before them. They were chatting somewhat furtively as they eyed, by turns, the proprietor, new arrivals as they came in, and the table at the other end at which a mad game was in progress.
“We might imagine ourselves at the Jockey Club,” said the Joker.
“You dry up,” said the Parisian.
The four men had no gold dust. They were penniless, but they were in possession of an important secret which had brought them to that village and filled them with a dim but splendid hope. They had overheard Chéri-Bibi and the Nut’s conversation about Yoyo and his hoard of gold.
Consequently they had performed surprising feats, marching day and night in order to arrive at the diggings before the two men.
During the last twenty-four hours they had been hunting, without success, for Yoyo. At last they ran aground at Sanda’s bar, and were now seated with a bottle in front of them for which, seemingly, they would find some difficulty in paying.
Suddenly the Parisian stood up and said:
“Don’t you trouble about me, but go on with your chatter.” And he showed them a set of dice with which they were quite familiar.
He went to have a look at the men at the gamingtable where a certain amount of disorder reigned. The men were arguing about a throw of the dice. The Parisian forked out a piece of linen which might possibly have been a handkerchief with a knot at the end of it containing an appreciable quantity of the precious metal.
He took a hand in the game.
His first victim was a woolly-headed half-breed, who came from the diggings with a well-lined belt. Half an hour later he had lost the lot. He swore, for that matter, that he had been robbed, and the quarrel was about to lead to blows, for two other diggers had come in and taken sides against the Parisian, when Senor Sanda stepped between them and declared that he only allowed gentlemen who were above suspicion to enter his place. Sanda exercised absolute authority. He could expel from his gaming club anyone who failed to meet his approval without having to consult any committee of management.
The Parisian, in the manner of a great aristocrat, at once ordered the most expensive drinks and invited everyone to have a drink with him, paying a large sum in advance to Senor Sanda without moving a muscle of his face. Then the Parisian, as he had foreseen, was favored with Sanda’s smile, and the sound of the dear man’s voice was as pleasant to hear as the gold dust was pleasant to look upon.
The Burglar, the Caid and the Joker joined them and took part, as may well be imagined, in the general carouse.
“I’ve unloosened the tongue of the pub-keeper,” said the Parisia
n. “We must try to make the most of it.”
The Parisian poured the gold dust which he had won into his wide-brimmed felt hat, and letting it run through his fingers, said to Sanda:
“Poor beggars! I’ve probably taken the result of six months’ work away from them.”
“Oh, not many of them make their fortunes in the diggings apart from a few Indians who discover a real vein and hide themselves from Europeans as though they were the plague...” returned Sanda. “See that man passing over there?”
“Where?”
“Opposite the bar.... That’s a celebrated magician. He knows where the gold is, does that man.... He’s called Yoyo.”
The Parisian made a dash for the window. He saw a man going past who was in the full vigor of youth.
His appearance was somewhat startling, and even demoniacal. He wore his hair plaited in little tresses. He had a fine figure and moved gracefully. It would be difficult to withstand his flashing gaze.
The convicts kept their eyes fixed on him.
“He comes here to buy the necessaries for the yaraqué feast, which is the most important event of the year. The Indians carry through the village their flags made of basket-work, which they fix on tall bamboos, beat on their various drums, and play a sort of flute made from dead men’s bones.”
At that moment one of the gamblers, who had procured a little gold, challenged the Parisian to a fresh game. The Parisian imagined, from the appearance of the saloon, that it would be difficult to refuse to play, and he sat down once more opposite his partners; but, turning to the Burglar and his chums, he threw a glance in the direction of Yoyo, who was entering a hut on the other side of the street, and one of them went out to follow the Indian’s tracks.
In the meantime night had fallen quickly, and Chéri-Bibi and the Nut had come in. They were feeling worn out, and did not stop in the village until they reached Sanda’s store.
When they entered the bar the proprietor and his customers were so intent upon the game that their arrival passed entirely unobserved. They went to a table some distance from the lamps, and threw their bags down in a dark corner beside them.
Then Chéri-Bibi stood up to inspect some cooking utensils which were hanging on the wall and which, on the way, he had decided to buy.
The Nut, overcome with fatigue, holding his head in his hands, did not seem to have the strength to give an order. Nevertheless he turned his head at the sounds which came from the other end of the room. Curses and yells of fury went up against the turn of the dice. The Parisian insolently continued to win.
Suddenly the Nut gave a start. Someone was speaking whose voice he seemed to recognize, and yet it could not be.
He rose from the table and drew near the gamblers. The dice were thrown again.
“Those dice are loaded!” a loud voice broke out.
The Nut, who had flung out the accusation, stared at the gambler with blazing eyes. His heart was swelling with an unspeakable hatred. The Parisian.... The Parisian was before his eyes.... The man who had tortured him for such long years. “That man has robbed you!”
The gamblers made a rush at the Parisian, but the Nut shook off the human cluster which stood between him and his enemy.
“No, no.... Leave him to me,” he cried. “This man is my affair. He falls to my lot. Oh, how long I’ve waited for this moment!”
Chéri-Bibi tried in vain to intervene. The Parisian and the Nut, locked in a deadly embrace, were rolling on the floor.
As soon as hostilities broke out Sanda saw that the affair would end in a free fight and, as was his duty, sent one of his “boys” to warn the headman of the place. And at the height of the struggle, as the Parisian was gasping for breath under the pressure of the Nut’s fingers, the saloon was plunged into complete darkness. The Parisian’s confederates had put out the lamps. Someone shouted: “Police!”
The police had, in fact, arrived. The lamps were lighted again, and it was seen that the birds had flown....
Sanda remarked to the headman:
“Fortunately for me, my customers pay in advance!”
Saved from the Nut’s clutches by the cunning and devotion of his friends, the Parisian soon recovered his senses, and in particular, his perception of their position. The main thing for them was not to lose sight of Yoyo.
The four convicts felt certain that Chéri-Bibi was unaware of the medicine-man’s appearance in the village, and it was with full confidence in their scheme that they followed Yoyo’s tracks as soon as he once again made his way into the forest.
Yoyo led them during a part of the night into an almost impenetrable wilderness; but when dawn broke they realized that they had lost trace of him. For hours they endeavored, without avail, to recover the scent. They held a consultation, and finally determined to return to the village, for they ran some risk in that part of the jungle of losing their way, which would mean death to them....
At the village they would be able to buy such things as they stood in need, particularly fire-arms, and leave the place and wait patiently until Chéri-Bibi and the Nut passed the frontier into Brazil, for when the two men came back from visiting Yoyo they would be laden with gold. The Parisian and his gang were fully aware of the part of the coast from which the Nut would attempt to sail for Europe.... The plan was adopted with enthusiasm.
Meanwhile Chéri-Bibi and the Nut had also entered the forest. Chéri-Bibi went forward with confidence owing to the landmarks which had been set up some years before; and suddenly, as he was passing under a giant tree, something fell into his arms. It was Yoyo — Yoyo, who, perceiving that he was being followed, had climbed into a tree with the agility of a monkey — Yoyo, who had recognized Chéri-Bibi.
The Nut was presented to him with due form and ceremony. Yoyo was a medicine-man who seemed to be conversant with the usages of polite society and to value them more than anything else.
“I’m the man who told him all about the benefits of civilization,” said Chéri-Bibi, with a touch of pride. Nevertheless, the presence of a gang of undesirables in the neighborhood, to which he drew attention — Chéri-Bibi recognized from Yoyo’s description that he was referring to the Parisian and his confederates — curtailed his demonstrations of friendship, which the medicine-man’s personality rendered well-nigh sacred; and when Yoyo had expressed to Chéri-Bibi how rejoiced his family would be to see him again, the three of them plunged into the very depths of the Macuano country in which Yoyo lived.
When Chéri-Bibi and the Nut reached the place they received a very touching welcome. The old mother, the young sister and brothers vied with each other in their kindness to the new-comers. They served a concoction for the evening meal which brought the tears to Chéri-Bibi’s eyes.
Never had fish and pimento been so tastily prepared for the convict’s palate, and he declared that he had never eaten anything so good, even in the days when he was in hiding in a fisherman’s hut in Martigny, after a sorry story of an attempted murder of a gendarme, the mock-heroic episodes of which he recalled not without a certain whimsical humor.
The story was, it seemed, entirely in Chéri-Bibi’s favor, for he had taken upon himself to defend a young girl who appeared to be in some danger; but the misfortune was that the jury suspected that the danger came from Chéri-Bibi himself. And he concluded:— “I expected that, but when your conscience is clear you can afford to treat the rest as a good joke.”
The natives, who were extremely quick-witted, listened to Chéri-Bibi with absorbed attention. The evening wore on in most agreeable fashion as Chéri-Bibi indulged in his recollections as a criminal, for he deferred the consideration of serious business to the morrow. As to the Nut, he was like a man in a dream.
He no longer allowed himself to be astonished at anything. The most amazing incidents seemed to him to be quite normal. He knew beforehand that anything might happen to him, and, adopting Chéri-Bibi’s philosophy, was prepared for everything. A day or two ago it was the penal settlement, convicts, warders
; yesterday it was the fearsome Oyaricoulets, and the not less fearsome Parisian; that night it was an excellent dinner, winding up with stories of which the least that could be said was that they were in keeping with the fantastic nature of the events which were in store for them. To-morrow! What would happen to-morrow. Oh, yes, Chéri-Bibi had promised him that to-morrow he would be a millionaire!
And in very truth he did become a millionaire. After a good night’s rest, which was the first that they had passed in safety since their departure from île Royale, Yoyo suggested to Chéri-Bibi that they should set out with him....
They came to a clear stream in which the medicine-man’s brothers and women-folk were engaged in obtaining gold by washing the alluvial gravels.
It is well known that this particular region is one of the richest in the world, and nearly every river contains gold in appreciable quantities. But the difficulties which are involved in obtaining it, and the impossibility for Europeans to live in the primeval forest, renders the collection of the gold exceedingly arduous. To secure remunerative results, large companies with considerable capital at their command are necessary. The individual prospector who refuses to become a worker for others is fated soon to be discouraged or to perish. In comparison with the few who grow rich by a lucky accident, what great numbers go under!
The native can overcome these disadvantages. Nevertheless, when he has discovered a lode, or some creek containing a larger amount of the metal than usual, he is plundered, or rather, compulsorily dispossessed, according to the rigor of the law of ownership established by white men. Thus, learning from experience, he hides himself and works entirely alone.
For many years Yoyo and his family had labored for Chéri-Bibi. What was the nature of his tremendous services to them that they should become his slaves? “I saved Yoyo’s life,” said Chéri-Bibi modestly. The truth was that one day, when tired of the settlement, he escaped and was taking a holiday on the Upper Oyapok, he saved the entire family from destruction by a man-eating tribe.
Collected Works of Gaston Leroux Page 192
