The Fire-Gods A Tale of the Congo - Charles Gibson (short novels in english .TXT) 📗

grunt.

 

"I suppose you’re right," said he.

 

"And what of our poor invalid?" said Cæsar, turning to de Costa.

 

Side by side, these two men, who were already sworn enemies in secret,

bent over the prostrate figure of the half-caste. De Costa lay with one

arm hanging listlessly over the side of the bed. His eyelids were

half-closed, and underneath the whites of his eyes could be seen. When

a man sleeps like that, he is in a bad way. The sands of life are

running down.

 

"He’s asleep," said Crouch. "That’s all he wants. The fever has

subsided. He’ll be much better to-morrow. Let us leave him."

 

Together they went out. The little sea-captain walked back to his hut,

and threw himself down upon his blankets. As for Cæsar, he remained

standing in the moonlight, with his long fingers playing in his beard.

 

For some minutes he remained quite motionless. The silence of the night

was still disturbed by the strange sounds that came from out of the

forest. The man seemed plunged in thought. Presently a soft, moist

nose was thrust into the palm of his hand, and looking down, he beheld

his great dog, which, unable to sleep by reason of the heat, had

followed her master into the moonlight.

 

"Gyp," said he, in a soft voice--"Gyp, old friend, how are we to get rid

of these accursed Englishmen?"

 

The dog looked up, and licked her master’s hand.

 

"Come, Gyp," said Cæsar; "come and think it out."

 

He entered his hut, and sat down upon the great, padlocked chest. There,

he took the dog’s head between his knees. She was a Great Dane, and

even larger and more powerful than the majority of her kind.

 

"Do you know this, Gyp," said he: "de Costa can’t be trusted?

Fortunately, you and I, Gyp, know a way to make him hold his tongue."

 

At that, the man laughed softly to himself.

 

Meanwhile, in the other hut, the quick brain of Captain Crouch was not

idle. He had learnt much that night; but the secret was still unsolved.

He had not been slow in discovering the weak point in Cæsar’s line of

defence: the little half-caste could be induced to speak the truth.

That the man was not an ivory trader, Crouch was fully convinced.

Indeed, he could be no sort of trader at all, because there was no

direct line of communication from Makanda to the Coast. Try as he might,

Crouch could find no answer to the riddle; and in the end, like Cæsar,

he resolved to bide his time.

 

Before he went to sleep, he awakened Max.

 

"Max," said he, "I want you to keep watch till daybreak. Keep your eyes

open, and if any one enters the hut, give him ’hands up’ on the spot."

 

"Have you discovered anything?" asked Max.

 

"Nothing," said Crouch, "except that de Costa’s our friend’s weak point.

Given half a chance, I will find out the truth from him. But Cæsar

suspects us, as much as we suspect him; and, from what I have seen of

the man, I’m inclined to think that he’ll stick at nothing. We must

never cease to be on our guard. Keep on the alert, and wake me up if

you see or hear anything suspicious."

 

At that Crouch turned over on his side, and this time actually fell

asleep.

 

Max Harden sat with his back to the wall of the hut, his loaded revolver

in his hand. Through the doorway, above the rampart of the stockade, he

could see the march of the tropical stars, as the Southern Cross dropped

lower and lower in the heavens. As it drew nearer to daybreak, the

sounds of the jungle ceased. Even in these latitudes there is a time,

about an hour before the dawn, when all Nature seems hushed and still;

the great beasts of prey retire to rest, foodless or with their

appetites appeased--more often the first, and it is not before the first

streaks of daybreak are visible in the eastern sky that the large minor

world, of beast and bird and reptile, awakens to the day.

 

Max obeyed his orders to the letter. Hour by hour, he remained

perfectly motionless, with every sense on the alert. He was beginning

to think that the fears and suspicions of Crouch were entirely baseless,

when, on a sudden, the eternal stillness was broken by a shriek,

piercing and unearthly, that was lifted from somewhere near at hand.

 

Springing to his feet, he rushed forth from the hut. And as he did so,

the shriek was repeated, louder than before.

 

 

 

THE FIRE-GODS - CHAPTER VIII--LEAVE TO QUIT

 

Max had no difficulty in recognizing whence came these appalling sounds;

for, as he hastened forward, they were repeated, again and again. It

was as if the night were filled with terror, as if some wild, tormented

spirit had been let loose upon the stillness of the jungle.

 

From the opened doorway of de Costa’s hut a bright light shone forth,

making a wide, diverging pathway to the foot of the stockade. And in

this pathway two shadows danced like fiends. They were here, there and

everywhere, whilst time and again that piercing shriek went forth.

 

Max dashed into the hut, and there was brought to a standstill by the

sight that he beheld.

 

On one knee upon the floor, with an arm upraised as if in

self-protection, was the half-caste, de Costa, with abject fear stamped

upon every feature of his face. Still yelping like a cur, flinching

repeatedly for no ostensible reason, he looked up furtively, and into

the face of the man who stood above him.

 

This was Cæsar, with the Great Dane snarling at his side. His right arm

was bare to the elbow, and in his hand he held a whip. It was a cruel

whip, if ever there were such a thing. The handle was short, but the

lash was long and tied in many a knot.

 

"Drop that!" cried Max; and, without a moment’s thought, he lifted his

revolver and directed the muzzle full at the head of the Portuguese.

 

At that the dog crouched low, as if about to spring, and filled the hut

with a growl.

 

What happened in the next brief moments cannot be told in a word. The

Great Dane sprang straight at the throat of the young Englishman, who

was borne headlong through the doorway, to fall at full length upon the

ground. Simultaneously, Max’s revolver went off, and the bullet flew

high into the roof. The next thing that he knew of was that both his

hands were pressed tight into the throat of the huge beast that had

pinned him to the ground. Strive as he might, he was not able to rise.

By sheer weight and strength Gyp held him down.

 

[Illustration: "THE GREAT DANE SPRANG STRAIGHT AT THE THROAT OF THE

YOUNG ENGLISHMAN."]

 

Then the hound was lifted bodily into the air. Max struggled to his

feet, and beheld his uncle, whose great hands grasped the dog by the

scruff of the neck. Harden was holding the animal so that it stood

upright on its hind-legs, and in that position Gyp was little shorter

than he. The dog was almost mad; it snarled like a wild animal, and its

white fangs gleamed in the light.

 

The voice of Cæsar sounded sharp, but calm and collected, in the midst

of this turmoil and confusion.

 

"Gyp," he cried, "come here!"

 

Edward let go his hold, and immediately the dog lay down, growling at

the feet of her master.

 

"I should like to know," said Edward, "the cause of this disturbance."

 

"A private matter," said Cæsar, "which concerns no one but de Costa and

myself."

 

But Max, though he had been overthrown by the dog, who had come upon him

so unexpectedly, was in no mind to let the matter drop. He was so hot

in anger, and his indignation so great, that his lips trembled when he

spoke.

 

"Why did you strike that man?" he demanded, pointing to the half-caste.

 

"That, I repeat," said the other, "is my affair--and his."

 

"Understand," said Max, "that I make it mine. When I entered this room,

this poor wretch was on the floor, and you stood over him, whip in

hand."

 

For the first time since they had entered the stockade, they saw the

real man under the calm, black mask that the Portuguese habitually wore.

Setting his brows in a frown, he whipped round upon Max, and spoke in

much the same manner as a cat spits at a dog.

 

"You have yet to learn," he cried, "that in this place I am master. I

take orders from no one. In Makanda my word is law. This half-bred cur

is my servant. He knows it, as well as I. He knows, also, that if he

serves me faithfully he will be rewarded. But if he dares to disobey my

orders, he incurs the penalty I choose to inflict. There is my answer;

and I ask you, who are you to come here and presume to dictate to me?"

 

"I have no more special mission," answered Max, "than any other who

knows the difference between what is right and wrong. You may be master

here--for all I care you may be master of the whole of Africa--but I am

not going to stand by and see one man flog another for any cause. Raise

that whip again on peril of your life."

 

Max dared the man on purpose. The fact was, he would have been glad

enough to shoot. As for Edward, though all this time he had stood by in

silence, his finger had never left the trigger of his revolver. But,

Cæsar was not such a fool as to give either of them the chance they

waited for. He cast his whip upon the ground.

 

"After this," said he, "I presume you will avail yourselves of my

hospitality no longer. I shall be glad to see your backs."

 

"We shall be only too glad to go," said Max.

 

"I put no obstacle in your way," said Cæsar. "It is almost daylight

now."

 

Max turned and left the hut, followed by his uncle. Each asked himself

the same question the moment he got out into the open air: where was

Captain Crouch?

 

Crouch must have heard the disturbance. The shrieks of the half-caste,

the growling of the dog and the firing of Max’s revolver had been enough

to have awakened the dead. Yet he had never put in an appearance. When

they entered their hut they found him seated cross-legged on the floor,

with his pipe between his teeth. The atmosphere was tainted with the

smell of Bull’s Eye Shag.

 

"Where have you been?" asked Edward.

 

Crouch never deigned to reply, but, taking his pipe from his lips, asked

a question himself.

 

"Did you come to blows?" he said.

 

"Practically," said Max, with a shrug of the shoulders. "I found him

thrashing that half-caste within an inch of his life. I threatened him,

and his dog flew at me, and, had it not been for Edward, would have torn

me to bits. We had a kind of an argument, and in the end he told us to

clear out, which we said we were perfectly ready to do."

 

Crouch returned his pipe to his mouth.

 

"I was afraid of that," said he.

 

"Why?"

 

"I would like to have stayed here just a little longer. I haven’t

probed the mystery yet. When I saw you two run into de Costa’s hut, I

knew there was going to be trouble. I knew you wouldn’t come out for

some minutes, and I had the chance of a lifetime."

 

"Where did you go?" asked Harden.

 

"Into Cæsar’s hut," said Crouch, winking with his only eye. "I searched

everywhere, but could find nothing. As I told you before, this man has

a secret, and that secret is locked up in his chest. In Central Africa

a man doesn’t have a chest like that to keep his clothes in. It’s

iron-bound, and locked with three padlocks, and I suppose he keeps the

key in his pocket. It would have been sheer waste of time to have tried

to open it. I couldn’t