Tahara: Among African Tribes Part 19

"Wise talk is better than rash deeds," said the Mahatma. "Behold any fool is strong, but a wise man tells the fool how to use his strength."

"Now what is all this getting at?" exclaimed Dan. "I bet that Old Whiskers has made a mistake and is trying to cover up."

Sikandar's dark eyes flashed in anger at this muttered remark, then he spoke in measured tones:

"My knowledge is vast, yet even a wise man may forget. This black guide reminds me that the trail to the land of the Iron-heads is through swamps. The land is treacherous. It hardly bears a man's weight and the horses would sink in it and be lost."

"Bad luck!" cried d.i.c.k.

"We have to _walk_ it," groaned Dan. "And carry our eats on our backs!"

Raal growled and touched his axe handle. "I am ready to go afoot, now!" he a.s.serted.

The Mahatma put up one fat, soft hand.

"Nay, now! Listen to the words of wisdom. I, Mahatma Sikandar, am not the one to be discouraged by difficulties. I have a better plan."

"Out with it, old-timer!" said Dan.

"Patience! Patience! We must all go back instead of forward."

"Never!" interrupted Raal.

"And some miles back from here we are close to a river where my tribesmen have many canoes."

"They will have to be big ones to carry our horses," said Dan.

"The horses will be put in a corral by the river," went on the Hindu.

"My men will build a corral quickly. Meanwhile we can start out in comfort, paddling down the smooth river to a point within a mile of the enemy camp!"

"Now you're talking," said d.i.c.k.

He explained to Raal how that would save time; for a canoe could be paddled more than twice as fast as it would take to travel through a swamp.

Raal smiled joyfully at this news and muttered, "Good! Longbeard, good!"

"Hooray for Old Whiskers! He has thought up a good idea at last," said Dan. "But say," he whispered to d.i.c.k, "Sikandar didn't think of that.

It was the black guide. The wise old boy is just stealing the credit for it."

Mahatma Sikandar scowled at Dan and said, "A fool and his folly cannot be parted! As I told you, we saved time by talking and taking counsel."

"Okay, let's go!" said d.i.c.k. "We travel by canoe to within a mile of the camp, you say? How is the trail from there?"

Sikandar asked the guide a question. The latter burst out in noisy explanation.

"Bad. Very bad!" said the Hindu.

"From the river, there is hardly any trail but just a dense growth of trees, vines and creepers. It is full of wild beasts and huge snakes.

We must cut a path. But the distance is not great."

"Let's be on our way," said d.i.c.k. "I can see that Raal is keen to start."

"Patience, patience!" said the Mahatma, but already d.i.c.k had shouted an order, the hors.e.m.e.n mounted and Mutaba led the way to the river.

When the party reached the bank of the stream, a broad, sluggish river, almost entirely overhung with the great trees alive with parrots and chattering monkeys, they found that swift-footed natives had already reached it by taking short cuts. No time had been wasted. Vines, tough creepers and branches had been woven between growing trees to form a large enclosure where the horses could be held in safety.

A fleet of canoes was riding on the river and the Taharans and Gorols were now to learn the art of paddling a vessel down stream.

Mutaba went in the first canoe with d.i.c.k and Dan.

Raal followed in the second, while Kurt and Kurul commanded the third and fourth.

Following a command from the Mahatma, a number of men came forward.

They were paddlers who were to accompany the expedition and instruct the desert dwellers how to handle the boats.

Soon the river was crowded with light craft, manned by warriors at the paddles.

"Where is the Wise Old Bird?" asked Dan.

"Hope he didn't give us the slip," said d.i.c.k. "We may need his help before the day is over."

"The Master of Wisdom is in the biggest canoe," said Mutaba, pointing out an exceptionally broad craft with a small cabin of boughs built at the widest part.

True to form, the Mahatma had insisted upon his privacy even in a canoe, and his followers had built a bower-like shelter of saplings, vines and flowering plants, in which the sage could sit cross-legged and meditate.

"That beats all!" Dan marvelled. "Old Brains can certainly make the strong-arm boys wait on him! When he says 'jump,' they all step lively."

The Mahatma's canoe was followed by a second, on which his litter was carried. Evidently the sage had no intention of doing any part of the journey afoot.

His vessel kept in the middle of the string of canoes that slid quietly down the stream, for he had figured out that the safest place was where he would be protected from attacks from either direction.

As the fleet moved under the strokes of strong-muscled paddlers, a low-pitched chant arose from the blacks. It floated over the water and the Taharans and the Gorols listened and soon joined in with the melody, though the words meant nothing to them.

But it was clearly a song of battle and raiding, for the eyes of the black men gleamed excitedly and the whites showed as they rolled them while they plied their paddles with energy. The boats sped faster and faster.

By that time the Taharans and the Gorols, unused to the ways of rivers, had learned the simple art of driving the canoes forward with strokes in time to the chant.

The blond warriors bent to it with zest, their great muscles swelling, while the lighter built Gorols tried to outstrip them in clever use of the paddle.

Soon it was developing into a race, and Raal, who was burning with impatience, felt satisfied at last. He could see progress being made.

That very day he might be able to rescue Veena from the scoundrels who had captured her.

Then a voice came to the leaders across the water and sounded a warning: "Patience, patience, my people! Too much haste now, means delay in the end."

"There goes Old Whiskers again," exclaimed Dan. "Maybe we are disturbing his meditations by going fast."

The Hindu's voice sounded as distinctly in their ears as though he were alongside.

"Not so fast d.i.c.k Sahib. Let your men rest on their paddles. I have much to say to you."