The Rogue Elephant Part 11

Charlie, Jack and Schoverling, with a single glance of amazement at the words of the senseless Arab, advanced to the hut while the Indians cl.u.s.tered about von Hofe. The shelter was a crude one, of bushes and gra.s.s, built against the trunk of one of the great mimosas.

"There's a man in here!" cried Charlie as they stood in the doorway.

Before them, lying on a bed of leaves, was the figure of a man in European clothes. His head, one arm, and side were bound in blood-stained bandages. On his chest lay his right hand, still gripping a pencil, while on his knees lay an old letter, scribbled over. With a cry of pity, Schoverling knelt at the man's side--but started up again in horror.

"Good heavens!" His voice rang with a note that struck Charlie's heart.

"It is Mowbray--dead!"

They pressed forward, and saw that the man was indeed dead. And Mowbray it was--his cheeks fallen in, the bandage half-concealing his face, but the iron chin locked grimly as ever in the last battle.

"Yes," said Jack softly. "He's dead, right enough. Must have pa.s.sed out not long ago, though. Let's see what that letter says, Chuck."

Charlie leaned over and picked up the paper sheets. The hut was absolutely bare, save for an empty revolver that lay on the earthen floor. With a shudder the boys emerged into the sunlight again, followed by Schoverling. The wagon had not yet come up, and the doctor was standing over the Arab. He turned at their approach.

"No use, mine friends. He iss dead--was ist das? A letter?"

He peered down at the paper in Charlie's hand. Without a word the boy handed it to Schoverling. The wagons were just creeping through the first trees, toward the water, and the Indians rushed off to restrain the oxen from plunging into the stream.

"Come over here into the shade," said the explorer quietly. "Mowbray is lying in there, Doctor, dead, and seemingly pretty badly wounded.

Perhaps these two sheets will throw some light on the situation."

They sat down around him beneath one of the big trees, and for a moment there was dead silence as the explorer examined the scrawled writing on the two sheets of paper and tattered envelope. Von Hofe nervously filled his pipe, nearly dropping it in the attempt.

"He seems to have written this after he got to the hut here," began the explorer. "It has no date and runs on in disconnected sentences." He paused, a catch in his voice. After a moment he went on, with no further sign of the emotion that must have possessed him.

"'Yesterday the camel died. Conscious but helpless. Arm, leg, ribs and head broken. Five days travel, to south. Zahir hurt, but managed to drag me to river and trees. I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, whence cometh--'

"That's the first of it," said the explorer. At this moment Gholab approached and saluted respectfully, his bearded face immobile. "Well, what is it?"

"Does the sahib wish to outspan here?"

"Yes. Outspan and pitch camp for to-day. And, Gholab, have two graves dug at the top of this little rise."

The Gurkha saluted and wheeled. Charlie caught an excited look from Jack, and then gave his attention to the General once more.

"'Zahir has built a hut. Could get away but refuses. No cartridges in revolver. Z. is cutting up camel. Tough but nouris.h.i.+ng. Have hopes. If I pull out will reward Z. for life.'

"That's the second bunch of sentences, written on the envelope. The next seems to come on the back of the letter, and is addressed doubly."

The explorer swept his eye down the two dirty, torn papers, and then read slowly:

"'To Selim ben Amoud or Louis Schoverling. Whoever finds, take to them.

"'Fever for two weeks. Camel gone bad, no cartridges. Zahir-ed-din ben Yusuf has caught some mice for me and starved self. No hope left unless L. S. comes. Am weaker, and Z. has fever.

"'In watchcase is plan of Selim's. Struck east from Lake Sugota with camels. Had brush with British but shook them off. Into desert five days full speed. Country deserted. Chain of small lakes, woods, hills as indicated on plan. Deserted ruined huts, no natives. Found Lake Quilqua to south of others.'"

"What!" cried Charlie. "Is that there, General? Is it--"

"You vill keep quiet, please!" rumbled von Hofe. Charlie subsided as the General nodded. Jack said nothing, only his flushed cheeks and gleaming eyes showing his eagerness.

"'Lake fed by hot springs. Water warm, very reedy. Crossed to island fifty yards from sh.o.r.e. Found stronghold ruined, slave irons and neck-rings, plenty of skeletons. Evidently place was swept by plague, none escaping. Burned slave-barrac.o.o.n and house. All very old--at least ten years. Slavers' stronghold explains desolated country. Natives all skipped or slaves.

"'Z. and I located big ivory cache under left gate-post. Went back to camp for men, found dying Arab. Gigantic buffalo gored him. Rest gone with camels. Big python showed up; all scared out. Found camel in trees and stayed to look around. Stories true. Shot two buffalo--suggested prehistoric type, great horns. Shot python, thirty-nine feet.

"'Guns safe. Third day found elephant spoor. Could hardly believe it.

Sighted and caught him by deserted native village. Rogue, fine trophy for L. S. Biggest ever saw, must stand fourteen feet or better. Ivory twelve feet. Z. game to tackle him, next day.

"'Rogue didn't wait. Tackled us before dawn. One foot came down through tent, missed me by six inches. Rolled out and grabbed gun. Z. knocked senseless. Fired once, but rogue placed trunk around me and threw me twenty feet into bushes. Senseless.

"'Woke up to find rogue gone. Z. pulled me out of thorns and tied me up.

Badly smashed. Amputated left hand at wrist. Elephant had smashed guns, with all he could find. Z. lost his nerve. Don't wonder. He caught the camel unhurt. I told him to head south to find L. S. or natives, then fainted again.

"'Don't remember much of what happened next. Z. says we rode bareback.

Held me in his arms all the way. Five days. No water or grub. Camel died with river only hundred yards away, poor brute. That's all.'"

The explorer paused, trying to make out the last few lines, which seemed almost illegible. Charlie stared, gulping down a sob at the bare recital of that terrible journey. It was hard to realize that only a few weeks ago he had seen and talked with the intrepid little man who lay cold in death on his bed of leaves, and whose last words were being read to them.

"This last is pretty faint," said Schoverling with expressionless voice.

"It's the last thing he wrote, and he seems to have failed at the end.

Here is what I can make out of it:

"'Z. knocked over a vulture two days ago from carca.s.s of camel. Made him take half, and he promised to go for help. Was too weak and came back.

I'm pretty near gone. If you get this, L. S., go kill that rogue for me.

Ivory worth while in cache. Feel cold to waist--must be going. Great news for British, eh? Thank G.o.d I've lived a decent life, according to my lights.'"

Schoverling's voice died away, and they knew he had reached the end.

Without another word the explorer rose to his feet, walked a few paces and stood gazing over the river with his back toward them. Von Hofe, sucking his unlighted pipe, made no secret of the tears that trickled over his dusty blond beard. Charlie and Jack gazed at each other in awed silence, for that last letter was very vivid and very real to them both.

"He ampudaded hiss own hand--ach!" said the big German huskily, at last.

At the words, Schoverling turned and came slowly back to them, his face set and hard. Behind them the Masai were digging the graves under the direction of Akram Das, and the oxen were splas.h.i.+ng about in the shallow silver thread of the river.

"Five days by camel--that would mean at least a week or ten days with the wagons," said the explorer quietly, looking at von Hofe. The German met the look and nodded.

"Yess. We shall do as he ordered."

"Do you mean that we are going to Lake Quilqua?" exclaimed Jack eagerly.

"We are, Jack. There is no reason why we should not bring back that rogue. He's just the fellow we're after, as--as poor Mowbray said." His voice shook a little. "If we'd only arrived a day or two sooner!"

"It can't be helped, General," returned Charlie softly. "We could not know that he was here, and we might have done no good anyhow. Those last words of his were fine."

"That letter will be framed, some day," said the explorer, "and it'll hang where every man in the Explorer's Club will be proud of it. What a fine fellow that Arab was, too! I'm heartsick to think that we failed to save him."

"It was no use," von Hofe rose to his feet calmly. "It was starvation and wounds. He was a good man, yes. My friends, we will bring that rogue's skin back, and those others. What a triumph of science!"

"That letter said something 'bout there bein' a plan in his watch-case, Gen'ral," spoke up Jack. Schoverling nodded, and turned to the hut. A moment later he came out, a smashed and bent gold watch in his hand.