The League of the Leopard Part 17

"This would be very valuable to a bold man," she said. "What would you give for it? It is no use offering a small thing."

"I would give"--the man hesitated--"I would even give the agreement in Arabic signed by Dom Pedro and the Emir!"

"Then it is yours," said Bonita Castro. "Now it is too hot for further business, even the underweighed gum. You may sit there and tell me of your adventures in the bush country."

Rideau had a large share of vanity, inherited from both parents, and he was in no wise reluctant; if Miss Castro failed to believe all he told her she did not say so. Indeed, she made the man feel that she accepted him as a hero, and fooled him so tactfully that he was several times on the brink of making confidences which might have jeopardized his plans.

Fortunately for himself, however, he reflected in time, and did not do so. When at last he withdrew, Miss Castro walked somewhat limply to her room, and sank down into a basket chair in the manner of one who has undergone a heavy nervous strain. Her aunt found her there presently, and placed a hand caressingly on her shoulder as she bent over her.

"This Rideau is a bad man. He has terrified you?" she said compa.s.sionately.

"No." The girl's voice trembled, though she smiled. "No, I hardly feared the cur. I have sent him to his own destruction. It is my own sin I fear. I have betrayed the man who trusted me; but still I do not think he will suffer from my treachery."

The elder lady shook off her somnolent expression, and nodded sagaciously.

"The big Englishman who was sick?--I comprehend," she said. "I do not ask questions; but take comfort if it was for your father, nina. Also, that Englishman is not clever, but he is very stubborn and strong, and I do not think it will be well for Rideau if he interferes with him."

When Miss Castro found Dom Pedro alone in his sweltering office that night she said to him: "Here is a present, father. I have drawn the dog's teeth."

Dom Pedro's eyes glistened as he clutched at the scroll handed him, then, though he first burned it over the lamp, his forehead grew furrowed, and his jaw fell.

"The cur may have other teeth left, and is of the blood of the African,"

he said. "Twice I repulsed him when he spoke of marriage. Little one, you have not sold yourself for this?"

The man positively quivered with impatience, but the girl laughed.

"No. I have sold him the blind Englishman. Rideau has the map that belonged to the Senor Maxwell."

"Thanks be to heaven!" Dom Pedro exclaimed piously; but his sallow face grew grave again. "It is a great deliverance, but it is not well to make one's profit from the blood of white men. This Rideau, who is very cunning, will follow and bring disaster upon the Englishmen up yonder.

Already, I have suffered many things because of the black men the Emir stole from me."

Bonita's eyes shone.

"You do not see clearly, father, or know the manner of those other men.

What is it to me if these strangers do not find the gold--but I would not have them die. I have been in their country, and if the cur dog follows, plotting treachery, as I think he will, the Senor Maxwell will surely kill him."

"_Ojala!_ Heaven send it so," murmured Dom Pedro, and would have embraced his daughter, but that, shrinking from him, she slipped out into the moonlit veranda. The little olive-faced gentleman stood staring at the papers before him, and hoping that it might come about as she had predicted.

CHAPTER XI

THE TRAIL OF THE LEOPARD

Maxwell expressed his approval of the recruits Dane brought in, for Dom Pedro had chosen well. They were st.u.r.dy, woolly-haired Kroomen from Liberia who had gained some experience of forest warfare in petty skirmishes with the troops of the black republic. It is noticeable that the untamed African cherishes little love for his partly civilized brother. When he had harangued them, the two white men sat talking together.

"I would give a good deal to know what is in Dom Pedro's mind just now,"

said Maxwell. "It is quite possible that the offer he made you was genuine. There is, if one may say it without appealing to your vanity, a certain air of solidity and force about you which might appeal to a man of his type who could supply all the finesse necessary--and who possesses a troublesome enemy. The map would in any case be of little use to Dom Pedro, who would never venture into the Leopards' country; and I hardly fancy he would give it to Rideau. In the meantime our own program is clear. We start again at sunrise to-morrow."

"Are you not taking too much for granted when you a.s.sume that Dom Pedro has the map?" asked Dane; and Maxwell smiled enigmatically but did not answer.

A few days later they halted at sunset beside a stream which, contrary to the custom of most African rivers, flowed clear as crystal over yellow sand. Wooded hills whose hollows were filled with drifting steam sloped steeply upward from the opposite bank, and the black shadow of a few palms lengthened across the gra.s.s behind the waiting men. There was nothing remarkable about the river or its surroundings; but heathen, missionary convert, and dusky Moslem alike shrank back murmuring from its bank.

"This is our Rubicon, and beyond it lies the Leopards' country," said Maxwell. "It is not a very imposing stream, but I believe no white man has ever crossed it without suffering from his rashness, since the days of the early Portuguese. Something has evidently startled the boys. As I partly expected, here it is."

Maxwell pointed to a slender wand set up beside the bank. A tuft of reddened rags was tied to it, and beneath them hung a piece of sun-dried clay rudely modeled into the resemblance of a leopard.

"I would rather have seen fifty men with flint-locks than this trumpery thing," he declared. "You don't quite grasp its significance, Hilton?

Well, in this land anything may be made the emblem of the Ju-ju, and that is the insignia of a powerful one I have alluded to several times already."

"I could never understand what a Ju-ju is."

"Very few white men do, but its ministers are a force to reckon with; and this piece of clay signifies that many unpleasant things, varying from slow poisoning to death by violence, may happen to the man who disregards it. You can see that the boys are afraid of it."

"We can't stay here forever because some benighted heathen has tied it to a stick," expostulated Dane. "Here's a challenge to the powers of darkness. Watch and try to understand, you boy! If them thing be no fit to hurt me, it can't hurt you. That's logic, or, as you say, the Lord he give me sense too much, isn't it?"

The eyes of the spectators grew wide with horror as, snapping the wand across his knee, he next crushed the leopard beneath his heel; and there was a heavy silence while they waited to see what would follow this bold defiance of the forest deity. So real was their terror, and the hush so impressive, that Dane felt his own heart beating faster than it generally did, and when he laughed the laugh rang hollow. But nothing unusual happened; and with murmurs of relief the men followed him as he splashed through the ford.

"It was necessary," said Maxwell with noticeable gravity. "Nevertheless, we will double our sentries henceforward, and recharge our filters.

There is no doubt that the powers of darkness will take up your challenge."

They pitched camp among the cottonwoods at the mouth of a ravine, and, when they had eaten, sat for a time within their little tent poring over a map issued privately for the use of French officials. Innumerable insects dimmed the light of the lamp above them, and they could scarcely see the lettering.

"We are here," said Maxwell, laying his finger on the paper, "on the threshold of what the n.i.g.g.e.rs call the Leopards' country, which is marked as partly explored territory, with this patch to represent the dominions of King, or headman, Shaillu. A few armed expeditions have traversed it farther east, and found it thinly peopled by petty tribes hostile to Europeans, while n.o.body knows much about Shaillu except that he abruptly broke off the negotiations he once began with the authorities. That showed the hand of his priests, and brings us back to the Leopard League."

Dane laid down his damp cigar, and listened with keen interest as Maxwell explained.

"As you have heard, secret leagues of all kinds are common in this country, and that of the Leopard is probably one of the most powerful.

Its priestly leaders are apparently the power behind the throne in Shaillu's dominions, and, so the natives say, those they favor with a share of their supernatural qualities can render themselves invisible or take the shape of beasts. Like their namesake, they always strike at night. Dismissing all idea of witchcraft, you can take very ingenious human cunning, a thorough knowledge of poisoning, and no mean strategic skill, for granted. Once the white man settles in their country the power of the bush magician must decline; and the deduction you can draw from that should justify a close watch to-night. It is your turn until twelve o'clock, Hilton."

Dane found it a somewhat depressing watch when the cooking fires had died out and the sounds which gather depth with the darkness emphasized the hush of the forest. There was nothing visible but the faint glimmer of the lighted tent, which suggested a huge Chinese lantern set down among the dripping undergrowth. Behind it loomed dim ghosts of trees.

Moisture fell drumming upon the tight-strained canvas; and at intervals some beast in the forest sent up an unearthly scream. The darkness was filled with the scent of wood smoke and lilies, and thickened by wisps of drifting steam.

The time dragged by slowly; but at last Dane was about to make a final round, when a stealthy rustling held him rigidly still, save that his left hand slid farther along the rifle barrel. The sound ceased and began again, and it became certain that something or somebody was crawling toward the tent. It could hardly be one of the carriers, for Maxwell had intimated that any man found wandering in the darkness would promptly be fired upon. Dane could feel his heart throbbing, but his fingers were steady on the cool barrel as he waited, realizing instinctively that death or danger in some strange shape was drawing near. Nevertheless he was silent, fearing to rouse the camp on a false alarm, and also because he wished to make certain of their unseen enemy.

For a s.p.a.ce of a few seconds there was no sound at all, and he grew the more uneasy, knowing that the naked bushman learns by sheer necessity to wriggle almost silently through the undergrowth. Then he found it hard to repress a cry of astonishment as, for a moment, a monstrous shape was silhouetted against the faintly illuminated canvas. It was bulkier than a man, and though it stood upright, its head was that of a beast.

Maxwell was clearly in danger, there was no time to lose, and, pitching up the rifle, Dane pressed the trigger. A streak of red fire rent the darkness, and a spark blew into his eyes. He felt the jerk of the barrel, and then, though he scarcely heard the explosion, he caught a thud there is no mistaking--the sound made by the impact of a solid bullet.

As he snapped down the lever and slid home another cartridge, something dim and shadowy rushed past, and the rifle blazed again. Then there was a snapping of undergrowth, a yell from a sentry, the crash of a Snider, and the camp awoke to life. Maxwell, holding up a lamp, sprang half-dressed from the tent, black men rose out of the shadows clamoring excitedly, and Dane's headman, Monday, stood close beside him, peering into the darkness with his long Snider rifle held out before him. Monday was not a timid man, but he looked distinctly uneasy when the light of Maxwell's lantern fell upon his face.

Dane briefly related what had happened; and Maxwell lowered his lantern.

"The Leopards have made their first move, and lost a man, I think," he said. "Most black men are able to carry off considerable lead, but this red trail on the undergrowth is significant. It also appears quite probable that you have saved my life."

Just then, there was a shrill scream in the forest, a scream of human agony, horrible and intense, and afterward a silence that could be felt.

"Them ghost leopard he done go chop some boy!" exclaimed Monday, trembling a little. "We savvy fight black man, sah, but not them debbil."