第 11 页

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Chapter XVI

The lion was probably equally surprised. His angry attitude was evidently due more to his having been roused from a nap, than to hunger.

He roared again, and squatted low, swishing his tail from side to side. He was about to spring.

Just then Arthur remembered something he had read in books of African travel — an oft-tested expedient for terrifying wild animals. That was his last chance, for his only weapon was a pocket knife.

He drew a long breath, and uttered a loud, unearthly sort of yell, with the full force of his lungs.

The lion instantly turned tail, and bounded into a dense clump of bushes, twenty feet away, which concealed him from view.

Arthur was overjoyed at the success of his stratagem. Had he been wise, he would have followed up the advantage with a second yell.

Instead of that, he wheeled around, and dashed off at full speed. As soon as he was beyond the compara tively open glade, he found traveling extremely rugged and difficult.

In the first place, the gloom was so intense that he could see only a few yards in front. Overhead was the matted canopy of the forest, and underfoot were trailing vines and thorny scrub bushes, and tall spear-grass, with edges like a razor.

The lad struggled on for five minutes or more, reckless of scratched or lacerated limbs, and then he paused to listen. Far above him was the patter of rain and the muffled pealing of thunder.

Suddenly he heard another sound that struck terror to his heart — a deep, angry roar, at no great distance behind. Next followed a crashing noise amid the bushes.

There was no doubt now that the lion was in pursuit, and Arthur fled for life as fast as his legs could carry him.

But he soon realized that he must speedily be overtaken. He constantly bumped into trees, or sprawled headlong over vines and rotten stumps.

Nearer and nearer came the hoarse roars, and the threshing of undergrowth as the great beast bounded through.

Arthur's breath came short and quick, and his heart began to beat like a trip-hammer. Already he felt, in imagination, the agony of being torn limb from limb.

Suddenly, as he reached a more open part of the forest, an animal of great bulk and size rose up a few yards in front of him, and uttered a puffing, snorting noise. It was too dark to tell the nature of the beast.

With a yell of terror, Arthur swerved to one side, and plunged into a deeper part of the forest. He be lieved at first that he now had two foes on his track.

But a minute later, as he was desperately cleaving his way through a tangled mass of obstructions, he heard a great hubbub and scuffle in his rear — ferocious roaring and snarling, mingled with screams and grunts.

He knew instantly what had happened. The lion had given battle to the strange beast, and a desperate combat was waging.

"I'm well out of it, anyway," he reflected, as he pushed on. "That big creature must have been a rhinoceros, or an elephant, or possibly a buffalo. I hope they'll wind up the fight as the Kilkenny cats did."

"But the lad's elation quickly gave way to grief and perplexity. He had to face a very bitter truth. His friends and brother were gone beyond all hope, and he was left to his own resources. It sickened him to think that they were probably a hundred miles away by this time.

His sturdy heart and pluck were all that kept him from despair. Indeed, he did not dare to think calmly of the full horror of his situation. That he was without food or arms, in the depths of a great African forest — these were quite sufficient evils for the present.

As he made his way forward, starting and trembling at every sound around him, he had but one fixed resolve in mind. He knew that night must be close at hand, and he wanted to get clear of the unknown evils of the forest before dark, if that were possible. He felt vaguely that the open country would offer better chances of safety, and less of danger.

So he plodded on manfully, in no wise daunted by the rugged difficulties of the way, though they were such as might have exasperated and foiled a tried explorer.

He scarcely felt fatigued, or the stinging pain of his scratched hands and legs; scarcely noticed that his clothes were hanging in shreds and tatters.

The rain and, thunder had ceased now, and on all sides he heard the distant cries of prowling beasts. Now and then, the shadowing outline of a snake glided away before him, or a frightened bird fled, with shrill clamor and fluttering.

Worst of all, the dim light faded, and the gloom of night fell with tropical rapidity. When it was quite dark he began to despair, but he pressed on as well as he could, for an hour longer.

Then he realized the necessity of seeking shelter for the night, and he had already begun to poke about in search of a suitable tree to climb, when his eyes caught a glimpse of yellow light through the foliage.

To make sure that it was not an illusion, he advanced some distance. Suddenly, the tall grass and scrub fell away a little, and he saw, twenty feet ahead, the red reflection of flames dancing amid a cluster of big trees. At the same time he heard the faint sound of voices.

His first thought was that his friends had descended in the balloon, with the intention of seeking him. The conviction thrilled him with joy and excitement, and he did not pause to consider its improbable side.

He dashed heedlessly forward and wormed through the trees until he stood on the verge of a little clearing. Then he paused, smitten with horror, and enraged at his own stupidity.

A dozen powerful, half-naked negroes sat ill a circle mound a blazing campfire. Some wore waist-clouts of lion and leopard skins, and some greasy tunics of blue cotton. Their hair was bushy and frizzled, and their ferocious faces were of the most cruel and degraded type.

They were evidently out on some sort of an expedition for close by lay arms in profusion — bows and arrows, spears, knotted clubs, and wicked looking knives.

But the one fact in particular which appealed the most to Arthur's sense of fear, was the joint of meat which hung over the fire, and from which the savages were tearing off hunks. It had a frightfully suggestive resemblance to human flesh.

All this the lad saw in a brief glance, and quickly he realized what would be his fate should he fall into the clutches of such degraded ruffians.

Then, before he could turn and slip away, a crackling twig betrayed his presence, and every eye was turned upon him. With blood-curdling yells, the savages grabbed their weapons, and sprang to their feet.

Like a flash, Arthur wheeled, and sped away in a direction at right angles to his former course. As he ran blindly among prickly thorns and jagged speargrass, he heard fierce yells and rushing feet in his rear. The savage pack were in hot chase.

The lad kept a clear head, though he knew only too well what little chance he had of outdistancing his foes — savages, born to junglecraft and speed.

On and on he went, colliding from tree to tree, and stumbling at every few yards. Louder in his ears rang the fierce cries and the rustle of the tall grass.

At last a pale gleam of light danced ahead of him, and he staggered, panting and breathless, to the brink of a broad and mighty river.

Overhead was the starry sky, and far across the swift, calm water was the murky outline of the farther shore.

With one hand pressed to his throbbing heart, he ran along the water's edge for half a dozen yards, while each step brought his relentless pursuers nearer.

Then, oh, glad moment! He saw a rude, narrow boat resting partly on the sand. With an effort that taxed his strength to the utmost, he shoved the craft out upon the swirling current, and sprang in.

As the distance to the shore widened with a rapidity that seemed to assure escape, he saw the dusky savages bound from the trees with awful yells.

A shower of weapons hurtled through the air, and Arthur felt a dizzy blow on the head. He reeled down in the bottom of the boat, and everything grew black.

It would be difficult to describe Godfrey Congdon's state of mind as the panic-stricken giraffe whirled him away at a furious speed in the teeth of the flames.

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Chapter XVII

Mingled with a realization of his peril was a keen sense of the ridiculous, and he was tempted to laugh. Never was man mounted on a stranger steed.

As the reader will remember, Godfrey had clasped the long neck with both hands as soon as he fell straddle- wise upon the animal's plump, striped back.

It was an instinctive act of self-preservation, but be regretted it an instant later, when he looked up and saw the balloon vanishing among the storm-clouds.

Thus abandoned involuntarily by his companions, he was confronted by two evils, of which one or the other had to be accepted.

To remain in his present position would be courting unknown perils and disaster, but, on the other hand, if he threw himself to the ground, he was almost sure to be caught by the flames, which were spreading right and left behind him, and sweeping forward with wonderful rapidity.

He saw all this in one swift, mental glance, and quickly his resolve was made. He would stick to the giraffe, if possible.

It was not an easy task, for the terrified animal tried every possible device to shake off his rider. He wagged his long neck to and fro, and shook his spine, and kicked his heels high in the air — all the time bounding at a tremendous pace, over the scrub and grass, and snorting savagely.

But Godfrey was not to be got rid of. He only wrapped his hands the tighter, and dug his heels firmly into the glossy flanks.

By and, by the giraffe became more accustomed to the weight on his back, and settled his legs to a trotting lope, that covered ground incredibly fast.

After running a mile or more, he turned at right angles, and sped parallel with the line of flames until he was far beyond them.

Half a dozen miles in all had now been covered, and Godfrey began to think of abandoning his strange steed. Every limb and muscle ached from the strain, and the lack of a saddle was painfully in evidence.

While he was cogitating how best to accomplish his purpose, the problem was unexpectedly solved. The giraffe gave a snort of terror and suddenly swerved around.

The jerk unseated Godfrey, and broke his clasp. He turned a somersault in the air, and landed, head first, in a clump of tall grass.

He arose to his feet, feeling dizzy and badly shaken, and looked for the cause of his tumble.

It was quickly seen. The giraffe was galloping madly away, and twenty feet behind him was a beautiful panther, bounding lightly over the scrub in pursuit.

Godfrey watched the two animals until they were dim in the distance. Then he mounted a hillock near by, and took a leisurely survey of his surroundings.

The storm was over. The rain, and thunder, and lightning, had ceased. The clouds were rolling apart, and through a rift near the horizon, the setting sun shone brilliantly.

This gave Godfrey his bearings, and in the clearing atmosphere he saw, hitherto invisible, landmarks start out distinctly.

To the north, the grassy plain stretched indefinitely, and in that direction, the distant fire was creeping, far back to the west.

Possibly half a dozen miles to the south he saw a shining band, that his trained eyes told him must be a river of considerable volume; beyond it lay the verge of a lofty forest.

The eastern horizon was bounded by a rugged chain of mountains, through a gap in which the river could be finally seen to disappear. The gap looked to be a dozen miles away, in a straight line.

Having completed his survey, Godfrey sat down on the hillock and pondered over a good many things. His stout heart was far from despair. He had a grain of fatalism in his nature, and never had it stood him in better stead than, now.

He examined his personal effects, and found a small knife, a pocketful of biscuits, a match safe, a flask containing a few drops of brandy, and a revolver, with one chamber loaded.

"Things might be worse," he reflected. "Bunbury and Roden will certainly do all they can to find me. I don't see the balloon, so the chances are that they have landed somewhere, and will be back this way after a while. If they can't do that, they will probably depend on a change of wind to carry them over the old ground.

"But meanwhile, I've got to reach the river for I'm burning with thirst. After I've had a good drink, I'll eat the biscuit. Then I'll fill the flask, and tramp back to this hillock. It's just the place to build a fire, and if Bunbury and Roden drift along they'll see it.

As Godfrey rose to his feet the sunset glow faded, and the cool dusk of twilight fell swiftly. He went briskly forward, keeping his revolver handy, in case of an attack from wild animals.

His thoughts dwelt sadly and bitterly on Arthur's fate. He believed that the lad was dead, beyond a shadow of doubt, and that it would be useless to search for the body.

On and on he went, through the shadowy and starlit night, guided in his course by the distant glow of the still burning fire.

The night was two hours old when he drew near the river, and now the howling and splashing of wild animals, who had come down to drink, compelled him to alter his course a little.

He kept to the eastward until the ominous sounds had grown indistinct, and then headed for the river.

As he parted the reeds at the water's edge, and stooped eagerly down to drink, he was startled to see a dusky object coming toward him out in the stream at a distance of thirty feet.

Suddenly there was a splash and a crunching noise, and the object partly vanished under water.

Godfrey had just made the discovery that it was a boat, when a head and a pair of arms splashed vigorously for the shore.

As the swimmer came within ten feet of the bank, he touched bottom, and began to wade. Slowly his body rose from the shallowing water.

Godfrey whipped out his pistol, cocked it, and stood up, exposing himself to full view.

"Hold on there!" he said, loudly. "Who are you?" The stranger started, and reeled backward. Then he plunged forward to the shore, crying out, in a voice that shook with joy:

"Godfrey! Godfrey! is it you?"

"Arthur! thank Heaven!" shouted Godfrey, clasping the lad in his arms.

For a, moment, the brave fellows, were speechless with emotion; they forgot all else but the fact of their happy reunion.

Then they sat down in the reeds, and Godfrey briefly narrated the thrilling events of the past two hours.

Next Arthur told of his wonderful escape when he fell from the balloon, and of the adventures he had subsequently encountered in the forest.

"After I pushed off in the boat and was hit by a club," he concluded, "I don't remember anything until I found myself drifting down the river. There was a big lump on the back of my head, and I felt pretty bad. I had sense enough to paddle with my hands for this shore. It was slow work against the current.