Progress was even slower in the forest itself. More than once Lofembi halted in doubt; then after a whispered colloquy with Samba he started again, guiding himself by the stars seen through the tree tops. Save for these whispered conversations not a word was spoken. Jack was too much absorbed in his mission, too anxious about his uncle, to have any inclination to talk, even if the risk of coming upon a scout of Elbel's had not been present to his mind.

At length the three came upon the narrow track Lofembi had been seeking. Here they went in Indian file, the guide leading, Jack coming next, then Samba. The path was so narrow and so beset by obstructions that walking was a toil. Sometimes Lofembi swerved to one side or the other to avoid a p.r.i.c.kly bush; sometimes they had to clamber over a fallen tree; more often the path wound round the obstacle. It seemed to Jack many hours since they started; in reality it was scarcely more than three before they came upon the two fallen trees. Lofembi stopped.

"Small small now, ma.s.sa," he whispered.

He gave a long low-pitched call. From the blackness on the left came a similar call in reply. The guide moved forward, plunging boldly along a narrow path--more narrow even than that by which they had reached this spot--in the direction of the sound. Jack was about to follow him when Samba touched him on the arm.

"Samba go first," said the boy.

"No, no," said Jack kindly. "We are all right; this is my place, Samba."

His heart beat faster under the stress of his emotion as he followed Lofembi through the tangled undergrowth. How would he find his uncle?

Was he very ill? Surely, surely, he was not in danger--he would not die? Beads of sweat broke out upon Jack's brow as the terrible possibility occurred to him. He went on almost blindly. Three minutes' groping in the darkness brought them to a natural clearing, in which, by the dim light of the stars, Jack saw a couple of tents, and, some little distance from them, what appeared to be a number of roughly made gra.s.s huts.

"Dis way, ma.s.sa," said Lofembi, touching Jack on the arm.

"Which one?" said Jack in a low tone,

"Dat one," replied Lofembi, pointing to the nearer of the two huts.

He stepped forward into the clearing. At the same moment a score of dusky forms rose and closed in stealthily from the undergrowth around.

With a little cry Samba plucked Jack by the sleeve. But almost unconsciously he shook off the detaining hand, so full of anxiety was he. His uncle must be very ill, or he would be standing by the tent to welcome him. He sprang forward, stopped, and raised the flap of the tent. By the light of a small oil lamp swinging from the top he saw a form stretched upon a camp bed.

"Uncle! uncle!" he cried, falling on his knees by the side of the prostrate figure.

A low murmur answered him. At the same moment he heard a sighing groan, as it were, from the entrance to the hut, and the sound of a heavy fall. Then the forest glade rang with fierce shouts and the crack of a rifle. Jack rose to his feet, confused by this sudden turmoil coming when his nerves were overstrung. As he half turned, a figure came out of the darkness towards him.

"Good efening, Mr. Shalloner," said a smooth voice.

Jack started back.

"Yes, it is me--Guillaume Elbel, bien entendu!"

[1] Leopoldville.

CHAPTER XXIII

Elbel Squares Accounts

Jack saw through it all now. Elbel had captured his uncle, and used him to decoy from the fort the enemy whom fair fighting and open manoeuvres had failed to dislodge. He could have shot the Belgian with his rifle where he stood, but saw in a flash how vain the action would be. Outside was a horde of savage natives, who would instantly wreak vengeance on the white men. Mr. Martindale was too weak to resist, and what he would suffer at their hands was too horrible to be thought of.

When Elbel had spoken Jack turned once more to his uncle, and kneeling down by his bedside clasped his hand. His pressure was returned but feebly. Mr. Martindale's weakness, coupled with his distress at Jack's capture, rendered him unable to speak.

"I beg you listen to me," said Elbel. "I have a varrant for the arrest of Chon Martindale, Chon Shalloner, and a third man, whose name I do not know, on a charge dat dey incite de natives to rebel against de Congo Free State. I have two of the dree; dat is vell. It vill be for your advantage, to-morrow, to send a written order to de third man to render dat fort on de hill. It vill be for your advantage at de trial.

If de fort resist longer, and cause blood to spill, it vill be so much de vorse for you ven you appear before de court in Boma."

"Where is your warrant, Mr. Elbel?" asked Jack.

"Ah! I have it not viz me; of course, it is in my camp."

"I suppose you are going to take us there? You can show it to me when we get there."

"No, you meestake. I vill not take you to my camp. I vill send you both at vunce to Boma, vere you vill be tried."

"But my uncle is not in a condition to travel; you know that."

"Bah! He vas in condition to travel here; vell, he is in condition to travel back."

"But that is preposterous, Mr. Elbel. Are you absolutely inhuman? I find my uncle so ill that he cannot even speak to me. G.o.d knows how much his illness is due to you or your friends. At least you will allow him to remain until I can give him some little attention--until he regains a little strength. To do anything else will be nothing less than murder."

"Dat is not my affair," said Elbel with a shrug. "It is instructed me to send you to Boma. To Boma zerefore muss you go, and at vunce."

Then, as a thought struck him, he added, "Though truly I will vait vun day, two days perhaps, if you give command to de man in de fort to render himself."

"Never!" came in a fierce whisper from the bed. Mr. Martindale had gathered his little strength for Jack's sake. "Never! We will make no terms with you. What my nephew has done he has done merely in self-defence against the acts, the illegal acts, of you and your freebooters. I am an American citizen; he is a British subject; as you, yes, and your Free State, will find to your cost."

He spoke in feeble gasps, yet with an energy that spoke of an unconquerable spirit. The exertion exhausted him, and he fell back on the bed from which he had half risen.

"Bah! Fine vords!" said Elbel. "Ver' fine vords, monsieur. You say you are American--you d.i.n.k dat frighten me! Vy, I laugh. Vat good is de American or de English in de Congo Free State? Ve mock of dem. Ve have our own vays to deal viz such canaille. You vill not send order to de fort? Ver' vell; I do vizout."

"Your warrant won't hold in any case. No one can order the arrest of a man unnamed."

"You zink so? Ver' vell, it does not matter. You vill have opportunity to zink about my vords as you promenade yourselves to Boma.

So I vish you bonsoir. To attempt to escape, I tell you it is impossible. You see dat? You hab revolver, Mr. Shalloner. Be so kind to gif me dat."

Jack hesitated. But he saw that resistance was useless, and handed over the weapon.

"Danks. In de morning you vill begin your promenade to Boma. Au revoir, messieurs; au revoir Monsieur Chon Shalloner!"

He left the tent. The interview had been too much for Mr. Martindale.

He lay half unconscious, and was scarcely roused when Elbel, in a couple of minutes, returned in a towering rage.

"You, Chon Shalloner!" he shouted. "You make de natives to rebel, and more, you make dem to do murder. Dat man, who I sent to the fort, he lie now outside, a dead man. Some vun dat come viz you he stab him in de back. You English hombog, I teach you. Dey shall know of dis in Boma."

Jack did not condescend to answer him, and Elbel flung out of the tent.

If his messenger was dead, he had paid the penalty of his treachery.

Jack could only pity the poor wretch for meeting with such an end in such a service. No doubt it was Samba's doing. Jack remembered now the groan and the fall outside. Had Samba escaped? He was anxious on the boy's behalf, but it was impossible to ascertain what had happened to him. From Elbel's manner and words he inferred that Samba was safe.

And as for Elbel's indignation at the deed Jack was not impressed by it. When he thought of the murders and maimings this man was answerable for, he could find no blame for the faithful boy who had punished as his instincts taught him, the spy who had betrayed his master.

Jack was left alone with his uncle. He looked vainly round the tent for a restorative--a drug, a flask of brandy, even a cup of water.

There was nothing. He bent over the still form, and touching the brow, gently, felt it burning with the heat of fever. He knew that his uncle was accustomed to keep a small phial of quinine pills in his waistcoat pocket, and searching for that he found it and persuaded the sick man to swallow a little of the medicine. Then he sat on the foot of the bed, not knowing what to do.

How fully his forebodings had been justified! It had been a mistake to leave the fort. And yet he could not rue it, for otherwise he might never have seen his uncle again. He looked at the face with the half-closed eyes; how thin it was! how pale! The ruddy hue, the rounded shape of health, were gone. Where was that bright twinkling eye that looked so shrewdly out from beneath a s.h.a.ggy brow? What sufferings he must have undergone! At that moment Jack looked over the past months to the day when he so light-heartedly bade his uncle good-bye, and so cheerfully accepted the charge laid upon him. How he wished they had never been parted!