The Fire-Gods A Tale of the Congo, Charles Gibson [most life changing books .txt] 📗
- Author: Charles Gibson
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if a fire-arm was lost or broken, they could not buy a new one in the
heart of Africa. They had therefore equipped themselves with a battery
of several rifles, including Remingtons, Expresses and Winchester
repeaters, besides several shot-guns and revolvers.
On the evening of that day, when he was expecting Crouch’s return at any
moment, Max walked to the northern extremity of the island. When there,
his ears caught the sound of a shot in the forest, on the left bank of
the river.
Now, since Crouch had landed on the other side, there could be no
question as to whence came this shot; and in a few minutes Max had run
to the canoe, jumped in and paddled to the bank. There, he picked up
his rifle and fired twice into the air.
Almost immediately his two shots were answered, and there came a second
answer--from Crouch on the northern bank. A quarter of an hour later,
Max, who had hastened forward on the line of the portage, had grasped
the hand of his uncle, who was amazed to see him.
Crouch returned at nightfall. He had killed his buffalo, far in the
interior of the forest, and the following morning the boys set out to
cut it up. That night the three friends were seated around the
camp-fire on Date Palm Island. Edward’s journey had been uneventful,
except that one of his Fan attendants had been mauled badly by a wounded
leopard.
It was Max who related the story of all that had happened since his
uncle left Hippo Pool. The big man listened in silence; and when the
story was ended he said nothing, and never once did he look at Crouch.
He knew the captain far too well to thank him. With old friends who
have been through thick and thin together, who have stood side by side
throughout many a danger, words are at a discount--a kind of mutual
understanding exists between them that makes conversation a sheer waste
of time. Still, though Edward said nothing, Max knew well enough that
he thanked the little, wizened captain in his heart, and was conscious
of the debt he owed him.
They remained on the island for another week, and it took them all that
time to persuade a dozen of the boys to accompany them upon the portage
in the capacity of carriers. It was only on the understanding that they
would not be asked to embark upon the dreaded river of the "Fire-gods"
that, at last, they consented to go.
Indeed, this time, they had no intention of advancing as far as the
river. They proposed to follow the portage to Observation Creek, and
thence to strike up-stream, due south, until they found a suitable
camping-ground. Here they would establish their base, sending the boys
back to the island with orders to wait for their return.
The Loango boys could be trusted; most of them had faithfully served
either Crouch or Edward in the past. Besides, they were a thousand
miles from their home, and dared not make the passage of the Congo by
themselves, because of the hostile tribes that, in those days, abounded
to the east of Stanley Falls. When Crouch and Edward Harden were on the
river their reputation went before them; their friends came forth to
meet them--grinning cannibals with necklaces of monkeys’ teeth suspended
round their necks, and little else besides by way of clothing--and their
enemies, those who had broken their faith with Harden or fallen foul of
Crouch, deserted their villages and took to the jungle, to let the two
great white men pass, whose fame had reached to the very heart of the
continent, and who, it was said, were spoken of even by the pigmies who
lived in the dark, unknown country west of the Lakes.
When they set out with their carriers for Observation Creek, the three
Europeans were sanguine of success, and even the four Fans (the one who
had been injured by the leopard had been left behind on the island)
shared their expectations. The riddle of the valley was yet unsolved.
The Portuguese still guarded well his secret. In his fortress by the
river, encompassed upon every hand by the dark, inhospitable jungle, he
had every reason to think himself secure. Moreover, he had cause to
believe that both Max and Crouch were dead--the former drowned at the
cataract, the latter lost in the jungle. Half the victory is gained
when one can take one’s adversary by surprise. Cæsar had lost Gyp, his
most accomplished scout. He might patrol the river, but he would find
no trace of the Englishmen from Makanda to the rapids. He might search
their old camp at Hippo Pool, where he would find, perhaps, a box of
ammunition, cooking utensils and a few days’ provisions--to say nothing
of Crouch’s case of glass eyes--but he would gain no clue to the fact
that his enemies had returned to the valley.
From their base camp on Observation Creek they had decided to move
up-stream towards the mountain. They hoped to make friends with the
natives of the Pambala village that M’Wané had seen in the distance.
Thence they could approach Makanda from the east.
Each time they traversed the portage progress was more easy. It was no
longer necessary to cut a way through the thickets with bill-hooks and
axes, and to "blaze" the trees. Besides, they were now familiar with
the road, knew where to look for water and the bitter roots of wild
manioc, or cassava--from which tapioca is manufactured--and upon which,
to a large degree, they were obliged to subsist in the jungle. Also
they no longer carried a canoe.
In consequence, they reached the Creek in four and a half days. After
halting for an hour, they continued their journey to the south, turning
to the left from the route which led direct to Hippo Pool. They
followed the course of the stream till sunset, and then camped for the
night. Another day’s march brought them to an open place by the side of
the Creek, where the ground was too rocky for vegetation to flourish.
They had been conscious throughout the day’s journey of going up-hill,
and this was doubtless the foot of one of the spurs of the mountain they
wished to gain. It was here they decided to camp.
They pitched their tent, and gathered a supply of firewood in the
forest. The water of the stream was clear and good to drink. They were
much pestered by insects of all descriptions, but this is inevitable in
the heart of an equatorial forest, and not even the smoke of Crouch’s
tobacco served to keep away the millions of flies, mosquitoes and ants,
to say nothing of less disagreeable companions, such as the most
gorgeous butterflies and gigantic dragon-flies and moths.
The following day the Loango boys departed upon their return journey to
the Kasai. As had been the case before, they showed great eagerness to
return. It seems that they could not rid their minds of the tales they
had heard of the Fire-gods, and neither Crouch nor Edward could persuade
them that the valley was not haunted by evil spirits.
During the days that followed the party suffered from want of meat. They
had deemed it advisable not to shoot. Though they were still some
distance from Makanda, there was always a chance that Cæsar and his
Arabs were somewhere abroad in the forest, and they did not wish the man
to suspect that they had returned. In the forest they found nothing to
eat but manioc, and a continual diet of the tubers of this peculiar
plant is somewhat monotonous and is apt to set up a kind of blood
poisoning, to which some people are more liable than others. Edward,
whose large carcass required a considerable amount of nourishment, began
to suffer from some kind of bilious fever.
After a day’s rest they set out upon their southward journey. Day by
day as they progressed, the nature of the vegetation changed. The
forest trees became thinner and not so large. The atmosphere became
cooler and more rarefied. The slope grew steeper and steeper, until at
last they were confronted by a sharp, rocky bluff which enclosed the
jungle like a wall. They followed this to the left, and came presently
to a gully, a dried-up watercourse, up which it was possible to climb.
At the top they found themselves upon a hillock--one of those bare,
flat-topped eminences which are scattered throughout the whole continent
of Africa. Hence it was possible to obtain a bird’s-eye view of the
country.
To the north, as far as the eye could reach, extended the forest through
which they had passed. About twenty miles to the eastward they could
see the Kasai above Date Palm Island. To the west there was no sign of
the Hidden River, which, being narrower and flowing in a direction
almost due south to north, was hidden among the trees. To the south a
magnificent panorama was extended to their view. The foreground fell
away in a valley which, to some extent, had been given over to
cultivation; and beyond, in rugged majesty, arose Solitude Peak. The
great mountain towered into the sky, its crest wrapped in clouds; and
over the valley hung a thin blue mist, above which some great bird of
prey hung like a gnat, with outstretched wings, in the very midst of
space.
It was Max who was the first to see the village, half-way up the
mountain slope, lying--as M’Wané had described it--like a bird’s nest in
the forked branches of a tree. He pointed it out to his companions, and
then the party began to descend into the valley, one behind the other in
single file, following a track which had been made by elephants. An
elephant trail can never be mistaken; however hard the ground, the
imprints of their great feet remain, and they have a habit of tearing
branches from the trees as they pass, not so much for food, as from pure
love of destruction.
It took them several hours to cross the valley, and then they began the
steep ascent of the mountain. Suddenly M’Wané, who was leading, came to
an abrupt standstill, and stood upon a sharp pinnacle of rock, pointing
to the east. There was something noble in his dark, savage figure,
standing upright, straight as a larch, in the midst of these wild
surroundings. A moment later he was joined by the two Hardens and
Crouch.
There, in the distance, they could discern the broad waters of the lake
before Makanda. They could see the granite hills, which were red in the
glow of the setting sun. They could see, also, the narrow gorge in the
south, and far in the distance was a great range of undiscovered
mountains. As they looked, a sound issued from the valley, which, like
a long peal of distant thunder, rolled away to the north upon the wind,
echoing through the forest.
THE FIRE-GODS - CHAPTER XIV--"BLACK IVORY"
"The Fire-gods’ thunder!" said M’Wané, in a kind of hushed whisper, with
his lips parted and his eyes staring in the direction of the Hidden
River.
It was obvious that the man was afraid. He belonged to a wild race that
for centuries has roamed the jungle, catching fish in baskets at the
waterfalls and setting traps in the forest. Until a few days before he
had never seen a firearm in his life. He had heard tales of white men
who were traders on the Coast, but he had never associated these with
the Fire-gods who inhabited the Hidden Valley, whom he regarded as
superhuman.
Crouch looked at Edward. "What do you make of it?" he asked.
Harden was frowning in the direction of the valley. His fingers tugged
at the end of his moustache. He was a man of few words, as we know.
"Dynamite," said he.
"I think so, too," said Crouch. "I wonder what his game is!"
In their immediate neighbourhood was a narrow stretch of grass--the
coarse, thin grass that is usually to be met with on the lower slopes of
mountains. It was at this moment that
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