Venning reached for his gla.s.ses, and far back over the shining lake he saw little black specks emerging, as it were, out of the forest.

"Canoes," he said; "a great many."

If they did not find the outlet soon they would be sighted. Muata and his mother spoke a few words rapidly, and then he signalled to the crew to enter the reeds. This done, and the boat screened, he slipped into the water and disappeared sh.o.r.ewards. For some time he was away, during which the flotilla of canoes came into view like a flock of ducks, still so far off that the boys could not hear the sound of paddles. Presently Muata splashed back, and, towing the boat, made across a barrier of reeds that had been banked up, forming a sort of natural breakwater, and most effectually hiding the mouth of the stream he sought. Mr. Hume was awakened, and the entire crew, taking to the water, managed to hoist the boat over the barrier. This done, they climbed on board again, and were soon in the mouth of a dark river, almost overhung by great trees.

"That is well done," said Muata. "Now we can sleep, great one; for the other river runs far from this, so that Ha.s.san's men will not hear us."

They were soon asleep. Even the chief's wife stretched herself out with the jackal at her feet, and the two boys were left in sole charge. They had been toughened by the rough-and-tumble of their strange experiences, and inured to the brooding silence and dark avenues of the forest; but they entered into a scene that tried their nerves. The trees closed in as they advanced, and very soon they entered a leafy tunnel, lit up by a faint light that barely showed up the slimy banks, covered by a network of snake-like roots.

The little waves churned up by the screw splashed softly upon the roots, making the only sound that disturbed the sombre silence of the place. So low was the leafy roof at places that branches rustled on the awning.

"Fix up the big lantern in the bows, old man," said Compton, who was facing up-stream. "There is not light enough to steer by. Better sit up there with the bill-hook while I work the levers."

Venning went forward, and soon a shaft of light pierced the gloom.

For a mile or more they threaded this tunnel, and not a sign of life was there the whole way. When they emerged from the darkness into comparative s.p.a.ce and light, the boys wiped their faces, which were clammy with moisture.

"A few more experiences like that, d.i.c.k, and we cross the river for good."

"Eh?"

"Why, man, it's the Styx. It has given me the shivers."

"Quinine," said Compton; and they dosed one another there and then.

"I say, I'd give the whole five hundred miles square of this forest for one little glade in Epping."

"Bother!"

"Of all the squirmy, snaky, gloomy, airless, sunless, moist, decaying ma.s.ses of misery, I think this is the worst."

"It is, d.i.c.k; it is. There's not a b.u.t.terfly even."

"Thunder! It's raining fire! No; it's an ant S It's raining ants, by gum!"

"You a.s.s, you've hooked the bill into a nest. There--that round, black thing--like a football. They're running up the bill-hook."

There was a splash as the boat was shoved off, then muttered exclamations and a yelp from the jackal: Many scores of ants had invaded the Okapi, and each ant, full of murderous rage for the wanton attack upon the nest, seized hold of the first soft thing it came across, and once it gripped it held on like a bull-dog. War was waged on the invaders, and when the last had been discovered and crushed, there was no sleep in the savage eyes of the awakened.

Incidents like these alone varied the monotony of the dreary days they spent in that mournful slough, and if it had not been for the regular exercise at the levers, and the hope of a speedy release from their surroundings, the young explorers must have succ.u.mbed. As it was, they lost colour, became pale, languid, and heavy-eyed; and Mr. Hume, noting the signs of the dreaded wasting sickness with anxiety, did not spare himself or Muata when it came to their turn to work the levers.

CHAPTER XVII

THE PLACE OF REST

The chiefs wife urged them on. Neither night nor day did she seem to rest, for whenever one of the boys, in a feverish sleep, tossed his arms about, she was at his side with a drink compounded of herbs, that kept the fever away. She took her spell at the levers, her long round arms moving with unexpected power, and only the hunter himself could tire her out. As for him, he was not happy unless he was working, and at times he made the screw spin again under his fierce strokes, whenever his eyes fell on the wan faces of his young companions stewing in the insufferable heat. He shortened the journey by twenty-four hours, for on the afternoon of the fourth day the woman, for the first time, showed signs of joy.

"Lift up your heads, O young lions," she cried; "let the light come into your eyes, and the strength into your limbs, for we are at the gates! You will catch the cool wind in your mouths. Your nostrils will sniff the air of the hills; your feet will tread the open way; your eyes will see the white clouds afar. Awake, my children, we are at the gates."

They lifted their heads, throbbing with the touch of fever, and before them they saw a sheet of clear water; beyond that a glistening wall of rock, and following up higher and higher, they saw the deep blue of the sky.

"We are out at last," said the hunter, in his deep tones. "Off with the awning, Muata; let us breathe again."

The awning was thrown back, and the boys sat up, drawing in the air in great gulps.

"This is but the beginning," said the woman. "A little further and your eyes will rest on the gardens below and the hilltops above. You will skip like the he-goat from rock to rock. You will shout and rejoice. I know. I was young, too, and I also came through the dark way."

"Where now, Muata?" asked the hunter.

"If the great one cares to leave the canoe, we could reach the top to-night, and sleep far above the woods. None come here. The water is 'taboo,' and the boat would be safe."

"Let us go up," urged Compton.

"Yes; up out of this stagnation," cried Venning, with a longing look up.

Mr. Hume ran the boat in, and Muata leapt ash.o.r.e. As his feet felt the firm ground he raised one hand high and broke into a chant, the woman joining in at intervals. As he chanted he stamped his feet on the sand; and this song was of himself--of his deeds in the past, of his triumphs in the future.

"Wow!" he said, when he had finished. "There were many days that Muata thought never to look upon these walls again; many times, when his heart was dark, when his blood was like water; and lo! he stands against the walls of his home."

"Of his resting-place," corrected the woman. "His home lies beneath the setting sun."

"I know how you feel, Muata. If I were to see again the cliffs of old England, I would sing too."

"It must be like finding a new beetle," said Venning.

"We are not out of the woods yet," chimed in Mr. Hume, grimly, "so just give your attention to our stores. We must carry up as much as we can, for, 'taboo' or not 'taboo,' I do not like the idea of leaving all our things here."

They made up in parcels as much of the stores as they could carry, and the woman strode off first, erect and graceful, with the largest parcel on her head. Venning followed, carrying only his carbine, blanket, and bandolier; then Muata, with sixty pounds' weight on his head, then Compton, and, last of all, Mr. Hume, with an ample load.

A fairly open path, over a lattice-work of roots, mounted up through the trees, and the hunter "blazed" the path by chipping a slice of bark off every fifth tree. Up and up the woman swung with free strides, her short leather skirts, trimmed with beads, rattling as she went; and after many a breather, for the sake of the whites, she strode out, one thousand feet above the lake, on to a rock-strewn slope, free of trees. A glance back showed the evening mist rolling like a huge curtain over the sombre forest, so that they seemed to be looking down upon a silent sea.

"A little more, my children--a little more, and you will sleep under a roof."

She swung off, balancing the load easily, and the others followed in and out among great rocks that had an unfamiliar look, bending their bodies to the steep and labouring for breath; and as they went Mr.

Hume drew marks on the ground, as a guide, with the point of his knife, for he trusted no man in the wilderness, except himself.

After another thousand feet of climbing, they entered into a gorge, that narrowed at the summit to a mere cleft, and from that cleft they stepped out on to a broad platform, which dominated a wide valley rimmed with cliffs.

"Behold the Place of Rest, O white men; and ye, O great one, who marked the trees below, and whose glance went ever back to note the way so that you should know it again, know that we have led you to the hiding, whose secret was our refuge."

"Ay, mother," said Mr. Hume, quietly, though surprised she had seen his actions; "and remember that we are here to help you keep out the wolf from your refuge. I marked the trail, as ye saw, for it is well that a man should know his way out as well as in."

"He is right, O wise one," said Muata, bearing down his mother's suspicious look. "Should Ha.s.san prevail in the fight, there would be no Muata to guide these our friends to safety."

"He prevail!" cried the woman, sternly; then her finger shot out, and her form seemed to increase in stature. "Look, O warrior of feeble words; see how it greets the chief;" and her eyes blazed as she followed the flight of a great bird that swept out of the mist.

"A sign--a sign, my son."

"A black eagle," said Venning. "Maybe it has its nest somewhere about here."

"As this is the Place of Rest," said Mr. Hume, "it would do us all good to sit down. Where is the hut you spoke of, mother?"