The Gorilla Hunters, R. M. Ballantyne [chrysanthemum read aloud .TXT] 📗

would at once give up their hopeless pursuit. The branch on which I lay was so slender that it swayed about with every motion that I made, and the longer I remained there the more nervous did I become.

At last I bethought me that unless I made a manful effort I should certainly perish, so I looked about me until I became accustomed to the giddy position. Then I perceived that, by creeping along the branch until I gained the trunk of the tree, I could descend by means of it to the face of the precipice from which it projected, and thus gain a narrow ledge of rock that overhung the abyss. In any other circumstances I would as soon have ventured to cross the Falls of Niagara on a tight-rope; but I had no other alternative, so I crept along the branch slowly and nervously, clinging to it, at the same time, with terrible tenacity. At last I gained the trunk of the tree and breathed more freely, for it was much steadier than the branch.

The trunk projected, as I have said, almost horizontally from the precipice, so I had to draw myself carefully along it, not daring to get on my hands and knees, and finally reached the ledge above referred to. Compared with my former position, this was a place of temporary safety, for it was three feet wide, and having a good head, I had no fear of falling over. But on looking up my heart sank within me, for the bare cliff offered no foothold whatever. I do not believe that a monkey could have climbed it. To descend the precipice was equally impossible, for it was like a wall. My only hope, therefore, lay in the ledge on which I stood, and which, I observed, ran along to the right and turned round a projecting rock that hid the remainder of it from view.

Hasting along it, I found, to my inexpressible relief, that it communicated with the top of the precipice. The ascent was difficult and dangerous; but at last I succeeded in passing the most serious part, and soon gained the summit of the cliff in safety, where I immediately fell on my knees and returned thanks for my deliverance.

I had passed nearly an hour in the trying adventure which I have just related, and feeling that my companions would naturally begin soon to be anxious about me, I started for our rendezvous, which I reached in little more than an hour and a half. Here I found Jack seated alone beside a stream of water, from which he occasionally lifted a little in the hollow of his hand and drank greedily.

“Ah, Ralph, my boy!” he exclaimed joyfully as I came up, “I’m glad you’ve come. I had begun to fear that you must have been captured. Ay, drink, lad! You seem warm enough, though I scarcely think you can be much more so than I am. What a run we have had, to be sure! But, what, Ralph—your clothes are much torn, and your face and hands are scratched. Why, you must have got among thorns. Not badly hurt, I trust?”

“Oh no; nothing to speak of. I have, however, had a narrow escape. But before I speak of that, what of Peterkin?”

“I don’t know,” replied Jack, with an anxious expression; “and to say truth, I begin to feel uneasy about him, for he ought to have been here almost as soon as myself.”

“How so? Did you, then, run together?”

“Latterly we did. At first we separated, and I knew not what had become either of him or you. The fact is, I had enough to do to look out for myself, for a dozen of rascally niggers kept close upon my heels and tried my powers of running somewhat; so I took to the thick wood and made a détour, to throw them off the scent. All at once I heard a smashing of the bushes right in front of me, and before I knew what I was about, Peterkin bounced through the underwood and almost plunged into my arms. We both gave an involuntary yell of alarm.

“‘There’s two of ’em right on my heels,’ said he in a gasp, as he dashed off again. ‘Come along with me, Jack.’

“I followed as fast as I could, and we crossed an open plain together, when I looked over my shoulder, and saw that all the other fellows had given up the chase except the two mentioned by Peterkin. These kept on after us, and somehow or other we got separated again, just after re-entering the wood on the other side of the plain. Of course I ran on, expecting to see my companion every minute. Finally I came to the rendezvous, and here I found that the savages had given up all hope of overtaking me, for I could see nothing of them.”

“How long ago is that?” I inquired quickly.

“About an hour.”

“Then poor Peterkin must have been caught,” said I, in a voice of despair.

“No, that is not likely,” replied Jack; “for I climbed a high tree and saw the savages recrossing the plain alone. I think it probable he may have lost his way, and is afraid to climb trees or to fire off his gun to signal us, for fear of being heard or seen by the niggers. I have sent Mak, who came here soon after I did, to search for him.”

“It may be as you say, Jack, but we must go at once to look for him.”

“With all my heart, Ralph. I only waited until you had sufficiently rested.”

“The body cannot rest when the mind is ill at ease. Come, let us start at once. I shall tell you of my little adventure as we go along.”

We soon reached the edge of the plain where Jack had been separated from his companion, and here we proceeded to make a careful search. Being certain that the savages were now out of earshot, we began to halloo occasionally as we went along. But monkeys and parrots alone replied to us.

“This is the very spot where I last saw him,” said Jack, leading me to a palm-tree which stood a little within the outer verge of the wood; “and here are his footsteps faintly indicated on the grass.”

“Ah! then let us follow these up,” said I eagerly.

“We might, if we were North American backwoodsmen or Red Indians; but I can scarcely follow. Stay, here they enter upon a piece of soft ground, and are more distinct. Now, then, we shall get on.”

For nearly quarter of an hour we followed the footprints; then we came to dry ground again, and lost all traces of them. We wandered about perseveringly, nevertheless, and were rewarded by again discovering them about quarter of a mile farther on, leading down to the banks of the river on another part of which I had had such a narrow escape.

While we were advancing—I in front—I felt the ground beneath me suddenly begin to give way with a crackling sound. I instinctively threw up my arms and sprang back.

“Hollo, Ralph!” cried my companion, seizing me with one hand by the collar, and hauling, or rather lifting me back, as if I had been a poodle dog. “Why, you were as near as possible into a pitfall.”

“Thanks to you, Jack, that I am not actually in,” said I, putting my somewhat twisted costume to rights. “But, I say, does it not strike you that perhaps Peterkin has fallen into one of these?”

We both started and listened with breathless attention, for at that moment we heard a faint groan not far from us. It was repeated almost immediately, though so faintly that we could scarcely ascertain the direction whence it came. We advanced cautiously, however, a few paces, and discovered a hole in the ground, from which, at that very moment, the dishevelled head of poor Peterkin appeared, like Jack coming out of his box. His sudden appearance and serio-comic expression would have been at any other time sufficient to have set us off in fits of laughter; but joy at finding him, and anxiety lest he should prove to be seriously hurt, restrained us at that time effectually.

“My dear fellow!” cried Jack, hurrying forward.

“Keep back! avaunt ye. Oh dear me, Jack, my poor head!” said Peterkin with a sigh, pressing his hand to his forehead; “what an intolerable whack I have got on my miserable caput. There; don’t come nearer, else you’ll break through. Reach me your hand. That’s it; thank’ee.”

“There you are, all safe, my boy,” cried Jack, as he drew Peterkin out of the hole.—“But hollo! I say, Ralph, run down for some water; I believe the poor fellow has fainted.”

I sprang down the river-bank, and speedily returned with some water in the crown of my wide-awake. Peterkin had recovered before I came back, and a long draught quite restored him, so that in a few minutes he was able to relate how the accident had befallen him.

“You see,” said he, in a jocular tone, for it was a most unusually severe accident indeed that could drive the fun out of our little friend—“you see, after I lost sight of Jack, I took a leaf out of the hare’s book, and doubled on my course. This brought me, unhappily, to the banks of the river, where I came upon one of the pitfalls that are made by the niggers here to catch wild beasts, and in I went. I kept hold of the surface boughs, however, scrambled out again, and pushed on. But I had not gone ten yards when the ground began to crackle and sink. I made a desperate bound to clear it, but my foot caught in a branch, and down I went head foremost into the pit. And that’s the whole of my story. How long I remained there I know not. If I had known what time it was when I dived in, and you were to tell me what o’clock it is now, we might arrive at a knowledge of the time I have spent at the bottom of that hole. All that I can positively affirm is, that I went in, and within in the last ten minutes I came out!”

We laughed at this free-and-easy manner of narrating the incident, and then prepared to return to our rendezvous; but on attempting to walk, Peterkin found that he had received a greater shake than at first he had imagined. Several times during our march he became giddy, and had to be supported; and after reaching our encampment, where we found Makarooroo waiting for us, he fainted. We were therefore obliged to make up our minds to encamp where we were for a few days.