第 20 页

"But you won't live here any longer," exclaimed Arthur. "You are going home now — back to the world that believes you dead."

"That's easier said than done," muttered Bunbury[.] "Still, escape ought to be possible. "

"God grant. that it be so," said Lucius Fanshawe, in a fervent tone. "The news of the white men and their airship was the first ray of hope that I have known in years. That is why I gave orders to have the balloon brought here. It must take us over the mountain bar rier, otherwise there is no escape."

"Ah! I forget that you are a scientist," exclaimed Bunbury. "You know the secret of making gas without chemicals?"

"Yes, I propose to use palm-oil and straw. I can have them brought to this spot in sufficiently large quantities."

"Then escape is indeed sure," said Bunbury. "I have materials in my pocket for mending the tears in the silk. We will inflate the balloon just outside the tower, and when it is really to ascend, we will fasten ourselves in the ropes."

"Will gas of that kind carry us far?" asked Arthur.

"And will it lift the balloon above the mountains?" added Roden.

"Yes, to both questions;" replied Bunbury. "The gas is of inferior quality, but it will take us fifty or a hundred miles."

"And that is the main thing — to get clear of the country of the Karibegs," exclaimed Lucius Fanshawe. "Once that is accomplished, we can travel by water, and ultimately reach the Congo regions, where we will be safe.

"Moreover, I intend to have a basket made, large enough to hold us all. My negroes are expert at weav ing, and there is plenty of material at hand,"

"It won't be necessary," said Bunbury.

"Not if we leave Nemo behind," said Lucius Fanshawe; "but that I will never do. The lion has been devoted to me for three years, and I cannot part with him."

"Yes, I understand," replied Bunbury. "It is a worthy resolve. But can the basket be made in a short time?"

"In a day and a half, the basket, straw and oil will be on the spot," was the confident answer, "and twenty four hours later we can start."

"Won't the negroes interfere?" asked Roden.

"They would if they suspected our purpose, my boy, but I shall guard against that. I will announce that I am going to perform a great miracle, and when the manufacture of gas begins, I will send yonder guards down to the village.

"That's the way to do it," approved Bunbury. "There will be no spying eyes around. How about Tombo?"

"He will go with us, of course," replied Mr. Fanshawe. "The faithful fellow has stuck to me through thick and thin, and he is just as homesick as I am. I shall do all in my power to get him back to Zanzibar."

On hearing this Tombo grinned, and crept a little closer to his royal master. He evidently understood all that had been said.

"It is important that we should lose no time," resumed Lucius Fanshawe, after a thoughtful pause; "for a storm is brewing, and it may burst at any time. I did not intend to speak of the matter, but it is best that you should know it.

"I have learned through spies that the neighboring Karibeg villages are contemplating a united attack on the royal kraal. They are angry and dissatisfied because I have forbidden the eating of human flesh."

"How can they storm a place like this?" asked Arthur. "There is only one entrance — by the water passage."

"They can command plenty of canoes," replied his father. "At least a dozen of the kraals lie along the east and west shores of the lake."

"How about your own kraal here?" questioned Bunbury. "Are the negroes to be relied upon?"

"Implicitly," declared Lucius Fanshawe. "They are less bloodthirsty than the rest of the tribe, and from the fact that I have lived among them so long, they fear and reverence me. You know how, bravely they rescued you from the cannibals?"

"True," replied Bunbury. "They fought as though they were battling with their worst enemies."

"And so they will fight in case of an attack on the kraal," said Mr. Fanshawe. "However, I don't think there is any present danger. My spies have brought me news for a week. If the revolt occurs, it will not be until after our departures. And now, my friends, we will fortify ourselves for the events of the morrow by a refreshing sleep. Tombo, prepare the beds."

From a recess in the wall the negro brought a dozen skins, and spread them upon the floor.

He then departed, and a little later the occupants of the tower were sound asleep, Nero lying at the feet of his master.

The following day proved a busy one, nor was the bustle and activity interrupted by bad news from the king's spies.

Indeed, the spies had not reported one way or another for nearly a week, which would have seemed a suspi cious circumstance to Lucius Fanshawe had he taken time to think over it.

But there was too much else to occupy his mind. Early in the morning a dozen negroes, men and women, ascended the cleft to the top of the fort. They brought an abundance of pliable material, with which they began to shape the required basket.

From sunrise to sunset a procession of strong- limbed men passed up and down, leaving bales of thatch and firkins of palm-oil behind them at every trip.

It was a pleasant and welcome surprise when Tombo presented Bunbury and the boys with their revolvers. He had found them in the possession of the king's bodyguard, who had captured them from the cannibals during the fight.

Lucius Fanshawe was highly elated.. "With weapons and ammunition," he said, "we stand a ten times better chance of reaching the Congo region. "

By evening the basket was two-thirds done, and a sufficient supply of thatch and palm-oil was left on the top of the fort.

Bunbury's skillful fingers had prepared the balloon, and he declared that the mended places were as good as new.

The night passed without alarm, and the party were astir at early dawn. It was to be a momentous day, and they could scarcely conceal their impatience and anxiety.

There was but little for them to do and the hours dragged by with provoking slowness.

About three o'clock in the afternoon the basket was finished, and the clever weavers went down into the village. The guards were also sent below, leaving the king and his companions alone.

Without delay, they set about the final task. Their hearts beat high with hope, for so far all had gone as well as they could have wished. There was no cloud or shadow to mar their anticipations for the future

First, by means of a rope stretched from the tower to the parapet, they rigged the balloon ten feet in the air, with the opening downward.

Then a dozen shallow earthen vessels, filled with palm-oil, were arranged underneath and ignited.

Over these bundles of thatch were burned, a little at a time. The inferior sort of gas thus generated, mounted slowly into the balloon, while the heavier smoke was blown aside.

By a somewhat similar process balloons were filled in the early days of aeronautics, as Bunbury and Fanshawe well knew.

Through the afternoon and early evening the work went on, keeping all hands busy. The supply of oil and thatch grew less while the balloon expanded more and more.

Tombo had been sent down to the village to keep eyes and ears open for danger, and from time to time he came up to report that all was well, and that the negroes were eagerly waiting for the promised manifestation of the white king's powers.

It was evident that they had not a suspicion of the truth.

Three hours after dark the balloon was two- thirds inflated, and was chafing at the cords that held it captive.

The basket-car, containing a store of provisions, lay at one side ready to be attached to the ropes.

Overhead the stars were gleaming brightly, and down in the village all was still and peaceful. The negroes had been told that the manifestation would be revealed to them at daybreak, and they were probably discussing the event around the camp-fires.

Tombo had not been up the cleft since sunset, but he was momentarily expected.

Lucius Fanshawe and his companions continued to feed the burning oil with bunches of damp thatch. The flames shone on their flushed and hopeful faces.

"In three hours more the balloon will be ready," said Bunbury. "God willing, we shall be far beyond the Karibeg country when to morrow's sun rises."

He had hardly spoken, when Nero, who was lying asleep by the entrance of the tower, rose suddenly with bristling fur and ears, and uttered a quavering, mournful roar.

As the echoes died away a burst of shrill, angry cries rose from far down in the kraal, and an indescribable din and tu[r]moil followed.

With sickened hearts, Fanshawe and his companions ran to the nearest loop-hole in the parapet, and the sight that instantly met their eyes was a deathblow to their hopes of escape and freedom.

The loop-hole commanded a view across the valley in the direction of the lake, and the light of moon and stars would have sufficed to make far-away objects visible without artificial help.

* * *

Chapter XXXI

Out from the black hole in the rocky cliff — the exit of the water passage — a procession of flashing, flaming torches was streaming.

Already several score were visible, and the number was fast increasing.

And by the torchlight, the narrow sheet of black water was seen to be jammed with canoes, many of which were discharging their swarms of bloodthirsty negroes on the sandy beach.

Lights were flashing in the village, too, and the startled Karibegs were rushing, with fierce yells, to meet the invaders.

To the little party far up on the fort it was a thrilling and terrible scene, and for a minute they could only gaze in mute despair.

Then Lucius Fanshawe staggered back, and wrung his hands in helpless grief.

"God help us!" he groaned. "We are lost — lost. .Oh! why could not this blow have been delayed a little longer?"

"There is still hope!" cried Bunbury. "Your plucky fellows will fight like fiends. Hark! they are at it now. They may beat the enemy back."

"Impossible!" exclaimed Fanshawe. "It is a general revolt. Hundreds of cannibals have already got a foothold in the valley, and hundreds more are probably coming through the passage. They will butcher every man, woman and child, and then attack the fort."

"If there had only been time to prepare," muttered Bunbury. "With the aid of your body-guard, we could have held the passage-mouth against an army."

"Too late to think of that now," said Fanshawe. "There has been treachery somewhere — foul treachery. Every man of my spies must have turned traitor."

"Or else they were found out and killed," suggested Bunbury.

"Yes, that is more likely," Fanshawe admitted. "At all events, the storm has burst from a clear sky, and it means ruin to our hopes."

As he spoke the tumult below assumed a change that admitted of no misconstruction. Clash of arms and yells of rage and hate mingled with the frightened screams of women and children.

The cannibal invaders were storming the kraal, and the slaughter had begun.

Nero paced restlessly up and down, roaring furiously at intervals. He seemed to understand that his mas ter and his master's friends were in danger.

"Can't we cut the balloon loose now?" cried Roden. "Look how inflated it is."

"There ought to be enough gas in it to last for several hours," added Arthur.

"We will make the atttempt [sic], my boys," exclaimed their father, hastening toward the spot. "It is the last chance. Anything is preferable to staying here to die. Here, help me with the basket," he added. "We must attach it to the ropes at once."

Bunbury had been looking critically up at the balloon, and now he made a dissenting motion to Arthur and Roden.

"My friend," he said, laying his hand on Fanshawe's shoulder, "what you propose to do is impossible just yet. We must continue the manufacture of gas for at least an hour longer."

"But the balloon is nearly full," cried Fanshawe. "Do you see how it bulges out? And there is scarcely a wrinkle visible."

"The car is quite a weight in itself," Bunbury calmly replied, "and there are four of us here — four able-bodied men. The lion is full-grown and heavy, and Tombo may arrive at any moment."

"Tombo is dead!" cried Fanshawe. "If he were alive, he would have been here by this time. And Nero shall be left behind if necessary. I will gladly sacrifice the poor brute to save my boys — my own flesh and blood."

"But even then the gas is insufficient," said Bunbury, in a compassionate tone. "Even if we should abandon Nero and the car, and stick to the ropes, the balloon could not rise above the high circle of mountains. It would drift against the rocks and dash us to the ground."

Fanshawe reluctantly let go of the basket, and stared up at the swaying balloon for a moment.

"Yes, you are right!" he cried, in a hoarse tone of agony. "We must have more gas — more gas. Quick! every second is precious. They are still fighting down below. God grant that they keep it up for an hour yet."

With feverish energy, he seized a bunch of thatch in each hand, and held them over the still burning vessels of oil.

His companions did the same, and for nearly ten minutes the smoke and flames generated small quantities of the sorely-needed gas.

Meanwhile; the battle raged fiercely down in the kraal, and the shrill sounds of deadly conflict drifted nearer and nearer the fort.

But as yet, strange to say, no fugitives had come up the cleft — no messengers to tell the white king what was happening, or to summon his aid to drive back the cannibal invaders.

Gradually, and almost imperceptibly, the sound changed, until the agonized cries of stricken men and the clash of weapons was no longer heard.

Instead, there rose a hoarse, continuous roar from hundreds of throats. The sound swelled on the night air, and grew louder and louder. Now it seemed to be under the very walls of the fort.

"Can it be possible that your fellows have driven the cannibals back?" exclaimed Bunbury. "The fighting is certainly over."

"It seems so," replied Fanshawe. "I don't know what to make of it."