"I remember," said Dick, "how I used to stand outside the confectioner's shop looking at the goodies in the window. Those bounders reminded me of it."
"I suppose we look like the original candy kids," sighed Doc.
Presently four or five warriors came and seized Bulala. They dragged him to a small hut near the chief's and there they bound him hand and foot and threw him inside.
"Poor Bulala," whispered Doc.
"He was a good friend," said Dick. "Oh, isn't there anything we can do?"
Doc shook his head and looked inquiringly at Ukundo, but Ukundo only sat staring at the ground.
"Ukundo!" snapped Dick. The pygmy looked up.
"What?" he asked.
"Can't we escape, Ukundo?"
"He make big medicine," said Ukundo, jerking a thumb at Doc. "If he can not escape, how can poor Ukundo, who cannot make any medicine?"
"My medicine is white man's medicine," said Doc. "It cannot show me my way through the jungle. If I got out of the village, I should be lost and the lions would get me."
"If you can get out of the village and take Ukundo with you, he will take you through the jungle to his own people. Ukundo knows the jungle, but he is afraid at night. At night the jungle is full of demons. If you can get out in the day-time, Ukundo will go with you and show you the way. But you can not get out while it is light, for the Bagalla will see you. At night we should be killed and eaten by the demons. It cannot be done." Thus spoke Ukundo, the pygmy, who knew the jungle better than any man.
It was several minutes before Doc replied, for he was thinking very hard, indeed. Presently he looked quickly up at Ukundo.
"Ukundo," he cried, "if it is only the demons you fear, there is nothing to prevent our trying to escape at night, for I can make medicine that will protect us from them."
Ukundo shook his head. "I do not know," he said, doubtingly.
"You have seen me make stronger medicine than Intamo can make," urged Doc. "Do you not believe me, when I say that I can make medicine that will keep every demon of the jungle from harming us?"
"Are you sure?" demanded Ukundo.
"Didn't we spend a night in the jungle before we reached this village?" asked Dick. "Not one single little bit of a demon bothered us. You ought to have seen 'em run, the minute they laid their eyes on Doc."
Ukundo's eyes grew very wide as he looked with awe at Doc. "The medicine of the white boy witch-doctor must be very strong," he said.
"It is," admitted Doc. "I'll give you my word that not a demon will hurt you while I am along; but if we stay here, Galla Galla will eat you. Will you come with us?"
Ukundo glanced at the hut in which lay the unhappy Bulala. "Yes," he said, "Ukundo will go with you."
"Good old Ukundo!" cried Dick, and then, in a whisper, "We'll have to go tonight because tomorrow it may be too late for poor Bulala."
"Bulala?" questioned Ukundo. "Bulala is already as good as dead."
"You think they will kill him tonight?" demanded Dick. Ukundo shrugged his shoulders, "Perhaps."
"But we must save him if we can," insisted Dick.
"We cannot," said Ukundo.
"We can try," said Doc.
"Yes, we can try," agreed Ukundo, without enthusiasm, for Ukundo was a fatalist, believing, as many primitive people do, that whatever is about to happen must happen and that it is useless to struggle against it. Perhaps that is why neither he nor Bulala had given any serious thought to the matter of escape, being content to assume that if Fate had ordained that they were to be eaten by the Bagalla, they would be eaten by the Bagalla, and that was all that there was to it.
But Dick and Doc were not fatalists. They knew that their own wit and ability and courage had a great deal more to do with guiding their destinies than did any legendary lady called Fate. To them Fate was just a silly bogy, like the demons of Ukundo, and so they planned and schemed against the time when conditions might be right for them to attempt to make a break for liberty. Their difficulties were greatly increased because of Bulala, but not once did either of them think of abandoning this good friend without making an attempt to rescue him, even though failure to do so might almost certainly result in preventing their own escape.
As night fell, the boys could see the villagers and their guests assembling for the evening meal. Pots were being brought forth and filled with water that was set to boil over numerous fires. There was a great deal of loud talk and laughter. The captives wondered if the pots of boiling water were waiting to receive Bulala and how soon it would be before their turns would come, and as they sat there, watching the fierce and terrible savages, their minds could not but be filled with gloomy thoughts and dire forebodings, try though they would to cast them out. For some time they had sat in silence, when their attention was attracted by a rustling sound as of a body crushing against the side of their grass-walled hut. They were sitting just outside the entrance; someone, or some thing, was approaching from behind the hut, keeping close to the outside wall, which was in dense shadow. Dick and Doc drew their knives and waited. Who or what could it be? Whoever, or whatever it was it was quite evident that it did not wish anyone to know that it was there; the stealthiness of its approach made that quite plain.
Slowly Dick rose to his feet, his knife ready in his hand, and Doc placed himself at Dick's side. Ukundo, unarmed, stood at Dick's left. Thus the three waited in tense silence while the stealthy sounds approached along the side of the hut, through the inky darkness of the shadows cast by the glaring camp fires of the village.
"Demon!" whispered Ukundo.
"Leave him to me then," said Doc. "But if it's a lion you can have it."
"Not a lion," said Ukundo. "Demon—or man!"
Presently a low "S-s-t!" sounded from the shadows.
"Who are you?" demanded Dick.
"What do you want?" asked Doc.
"I am Paabu," whispered a voice, very low. "I come to warn you."
"Come closer," said Doc. "We are alone."
A part of the shadow resolved itself into the youth, as he came nearer and crouched low against the side of the hut.
"You saved my life today," he said, addressing Doc, "so I come to warn you. Intamo has put poison in food for you. I saw him. Paabu hates Intamo. That is all! I go!"
"Wait!" urged Doc. "What are they going to do with Bulala?"
Paabu grinned. "Eat him, of course," he said.
"When?"
"Tomorrow night. Next night they eat Ukundo. I think they are afraid of your medicine. They may not eat you, unless Intamo is able to kill you with poison."
"They couldn't eat us then," said Dick, "because the poison would kill them."
"No!" contradicted Paabu. "Intamo take care of that. Intamo make good poison, and as soon as you die, he cut out all your insides. There will be no poison in your flesh. If he thinks you eat the poison food, and then you do not die, he will be afraid. But he will find another way to kill you unless your medicine is very strong. That is why Paabu come to warn you—so that you may make strong medicine."
He started away.
"Wait!" said Dick again. "Have they killed Bulala yet?"
"No!"
"When will they kill him?"
"Tomorrow."
"Will you do something for me?" asked Doc.
"What?" demanded Paabu.
"Bring us some weapons—four knives, four spears, four bows and some arrows. Will you do that for me, Paabu?"
"I am afraid. Galla Galla would kill me. Intamo would kill me, if he knew I come here and speak with you."
"They will never know," insisted Doc.
"I am afraid," said Paabu. "Now I go."
"Look!" whispered Doc. He drew his pocket knife from his loin cloth.
"See this?" and he held the big medicine close to Paabu's face.
The youth drew back in terror. "Do not put it in my head!" he whimpered.
"I will not put it in your head, Paabu," Doc assured him, "because I am your friend, but I will
give it to you, if you will bring us the weapons. How would you like to own this big medicine that is stronger than any medicine that Intamo can make? You could be a great witch-doctor if you owned this, Paabu. What do you say?"
"It will not hurt me?" asked Paabu, fearfully.
"It will not hurt you, if I tell it not to," replied Doc. "If I give it to you, then it will be yours and so cannot hurt you unless you make it."
"Very well," said Paabu. "I will bring you the weapons."
"When?" demanded Doc.
"Very soon."
"Good! If you are not back very soon the big medicine will be angry and then I don't know what it might do to you. Hurry!"
Paabu vanished among the shadows and the three sat down to wait and plan. At least they had taken the first step, but they were still inside the village, surrounded by cruel and savage captors.
While they waited, a man came, bringing them food. He was not one who had brought them food before and they guessed that he had been sent by Intamo. As soon as he had gone, they dug a hole in the ground and buried all the food, then they relapsed into silent, anxious waiting.
CHAPTER NINE
Far away, at the edge of the jungle, fifty ebon warriors were camped in a grassy clearing. They were fine, stalwart men with regular features and strong, white teeth. One of them was strumming upon a crude stringed instrument, while two of his fellows were dancing in the firelight that gleamed back from the glossy velvet of their skin. Their weapons, laid aside, were within easy reach and many of them still wore the plumed headdress of their tribe. Their stern faces were lighted by smiles, for this was their hour of relaxation, following a hard day of fruitless search.
A giant white man, swinging through the trees, approached the camp of the fifty warriors. He was naked but for a leopard skin, and armed only with a long rope and a hunting knife. Through the darkness of the jungle, he moved with perfect sureness and in utter silence. Numa, the hunting lion, down wind from him, caught his scent and growled. It was a scent that Numa knew well, and feared. It was not alone the scent of man—it was the scent of The Man.
Presently he dropped lightly to the ground beside the camp. Instantly the warriors were upon their feet, their weapons ready in their hands.
"It is I, my children," said the man. "It is I, Tarzan of the Apes!"
The warriors tossed aside their weapons. "Welcome, Big Bwana!" "Welcome, Tarzan!" they called.
"What luck, Muviro?" demanded the ape man.
"None, master," replied a mighty black. "We have searched in all directions, but we have seen no spoor of the white boys."
"Nor I," said Tarzan. "I am half convinced that the Mugalla whom we questioned a week ago lied to us, when he said that they had come to his village and that Galla Galla, their chief, had sent them on toward my country with some friendly Karendo traders. Tomorrow we shall set out for the village of Galla Galla ."
CHAPTER TEN
The twins and Ukundo had not long to wait before Paabu returned, as he had promised, bringing weapons to them. His terror was quite real when he received Doc's pocket knife in payment of his services, but his ambition to become a great witch-doctor overcame his fears and it was a proud, though frightened Paabu, who sneaked away in the darkness, clutching the big medicine tightly in one grimy paw.
About the village fires the boys could see the natives eating and drinking, while Intamo, clothed in all the hideous and grotesque finery of his profession, danced weirdly in the firelight, sprinkling powder into the various cooking pots and making strange passes above them with a stick to which was fastened the brush from the tail of a buffalo. Ukundo told them that Intamo was making medicine to frighten the demons away from the pots in which Bulala would be cooked on the morrow and that the real festivities would not commence until the following night. There was little dancing in the village, that night, and after Intamo had completed his ceremony, the blacks commenced to retire to their huts and soon the village street was deserted. All the fires were banked with the exception of one. The village was quite dark.
The moment was approaching when the boys could make their long deferred attempt to escape. In low whispers they had been discussing their plans with Ukundo, all the evening. Now it was only a matter of waiting until they felt sure that the entire village was asleep.
They had distributed the weapons brought them by Paabu, and the feel of them in their hands seemed to impart a new courage and almost to ensure the success of their venture.
"Golly!" said Dick, presently. "Don't you suppose they're asleep yet?"
"Better wait a little longer," counselled Doc. "This is our only chance and we just can't fail."
At that moment they saw a figure emerge from one of the huts and come toward them.
"There!" said Doc. "What did I tell you?"
The figure approached at a brisk walk and the three hid their weapons as best they could, putting them on the ground and squatting in front of them, but keeping them within reach; for there was something sinister about this silent figure, advancing through the sleeping village. The sickly light of a single dying camp fire dimly outlined the approaching figure, which the waiting captives could see was that of a large warrior in whose right hand swung a short, heavy knobkerrie.
Who could it be? What was his mission in the dead of night?
He was almost upon them before he perceived them, huddled just outside the entrance of their hut; his surprise at seeing them there was evident, for he stopped suddenly with an angry grunt.
"Why are you not in your hut?" he demanded in a hoarse whisper."Which is the white boy witch-doctor? I would speak with him."
It was Intamo. The three recognized him simultaneously and knew why he had come and why he carried the knobkerrie.
"I am he," replied Doc. "What do you want of me?"
The only answer that Intamo made was to leap forward with raised bludgeon. With a cry of horror, Dick jumped to his feet and sprang between Intamo and his intended victim. With his short spear grasped in both hands and held horizontally before him and above his head he sought to break the force of Itamo's wicked blow. The knobkerrie crashed upon the stout wood of the spear haft and glanced to one side. But Intamo with the sweep of a mighty arm brushed the lad aside and swung his club again.
It was at this instant that a small, pantherlike figure, springing with the agility and ferocity of one of the great jungle eats, launched itself full upon the breast of Intamo, hurling the witch-doctor to the ground. Twice a muscular arm rose and fell; twice a dull blade gleamed for an instant in the fitful firelight, then Ukundo arose from the prostrate form, but Intamo lay very still where he had fallen.
"Good old Ukundo!" whispered Dick in a broken voice that choked with a sob, for he knew that Doc had been very near to death.
"Each of you has saved my life," said Doc, "and—O, gee!—I don't know what to say!"
"Don't say anything," advised Dick. "Anyway, we aren't out of this mess yet."
"Now we better go," said Ukundo. "Have you made strong medicine against the jungle demons?"
"Very strong," replied Doc. "You have seen that my medicine is stronger than Intamo's, for he came here to kill me and instead it was he who was killed."
"Yes," admitted Ukundo, "I saw!"
As they had previously planned, the three crept stealthily along the rear of the village huts, keeping close to the palisade. Dick led, Ukundo followed, and then Doc. They had to move very silently lest they awaken some of the numerous village curs, whose yapping might easily arouse the entire village. And so they moved forward very slowly, often just a few yards at a time, when they would lie quietly for several minutes. It was slow, nerve-wracking work. The hut in which Bulala was confined seemed miles away, though in fact it was but a few hundred feet. At last, however, after what seemed an eternity, they reached it and while the boys waited behind the hut, Ukundo crept to the front and crawled inside.
Again there was a long, long wait. The interminable minutes dragged slowly
by. Not a sound came to their ears from the interior of the hut for what seemed ages, and then, at last, they heard a faint rustling within. A few minutes later Ukundo and Bulala crept to their sides. Bulala was almost overcome by emotion, so certain had he been that nothing could save him from the horrible fate that awaited him on the morrow; but his words of gratitude were silenced and a moment later the four were creeping toward the village gates.
Here they met their serious obstacle. The gates were secured by chains through which was fastened an old time padlock, such as slavers once used to secure the chains to the necks of their poor victims. For a moment it seemed that they were doomed to failure at the very outset of their attempted break for liberty, but as the boys were examining the fastenings, Doc almost gave vent to a cry of relief; he had discovered that, with true native shiftlessness, the Bagalla had fastened the end of one of the stout chains to a post of the palisade with a bit of grass rope and as a chain is no stronger than its weakest link, this proved a very weak chain indeed. A single stroke of Doc's knife severed the rope and the chain clattered to the ground—an occurrence that almost proved their undoing for the noise startled a nearby cur into a frenzy of barking that was quickly taken up by every other dog in the village until it seemed that a thousand dogs were yapping at the top of their lungs.
And then the gates stuck as the four put their combined weight against them in an effort to swing them open. Dick glanced over his shoulder and saw a warrior emerging from a hut. The fellow, voicing a loud cry of warning, came running toward them, and in an instant the village was swarming with fierce blacks, all running with brandished spears. In a frenzy of hopelessness the four prisoners hurled themselves upon the sagging barrier, and this time the gates gave way and the quartette plunged into the outer darkness.
To cover the distance across the clearing into the black shadows of the jungle required but a few seconds, for their feet were winged by terror of the hideous death clutching so close behind to drag them back into its awful embrace.
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