The Blind Lion of the Congo Part 8

"It's vera good for fever," he said solemnly. "They make it out o'

chopped snakes an' n.i.g.g.e.r bones."

The boys looked up in dismay but were rea.s.sured by Mr. Wallace's smile and John's ever present grin. Burt put the question to the latter.

"Palm-oil chop, sar! Chicken chop-chop, palm-oil, peppers, hother t'ings halso, sar. Hit be good."

The boys cautiously sampled the concoction and found it to be new but not unpleasant. Before they had been in the country another week they were vociferously demanding palm-oil chop from John every day. The launch tied up at a plantation dock for the night and at daylight proceeded on her way.

"h.e.l.lo!" exclaimed Critch as he emerged from the tiny cabin for breakfast. "That's funny! Thought it was in my outside pocket."

"What's bitin' you?" asked Burt with a rather sickly smile. He also was fis.h.i.+ng in his pockets.

"My compa.s.s--it's gone!"

"Same here," confessed Burt after a moment. "I'll be jiggered! My coin's all right!"

"What's the matter?" inquired Mr. Wallace. He was just coming out and behind him was Captain Mac. The boys explained their strange loss and Montenay frowned.

"That's queer," he said thoughtfully. "Mine's safe. How's yours, Wallace?"

"Here." Mr. Wallace produced his own silver-set compa.s.s from an inner pocket. "You've probably dropped 'em around the cabin, boys."

The two turned and vanished hastily but reappeared shaking their heads.

The missing instruments were not to be found on board, although a thorough search was made of the launch and men.

"Na doot they were stolen," said Captain Mac as they sat at breakfast.

"These blacks will steal anythin' that ain't nailed down, an' they were prowlin' all about last night. Well, we'll get new ones at Makupa from the trader when we get there to-night."

"It's decidedly queer, Montenay!" Mr. Wallace looked out over the river with a perplexed frown. "Why should these two compa.s.ses vanish, when nothing else in the cabin was touched? I don't like it."

"Ye know what ju-ju is, o' course?" Captain Mac leaned back easily in his chair as the American explorer nodded. "The Bantus think compa.s.ses are ju-ju."

"What's that?" asked Critch.

"Anything they don't understand and that savors of witchcraft or mystery is ju-ju," explained Mr. Wallace. "In that case, Montenay, our compa.s.ses will be looked upon as the G.o.ds of a Bantu village, eh?"

"Aye. Let's get our business done with, Wallace." Montenay deftly rolled himself a quinine capsule and swallowed it. "What d'ye say? Shall we combine or no?"

"I don't see why we shouldn't," returned Mr. Wallace thoughtfully.

"We're both after ivory. One caravan will cut down expenses for each of us. You're not sure about making the Makua with us?"

"Well," replied the other slowly with a sharp glance at Mr. Wallace, "I'm no sure yet. There's some mighty queer country north o' here that I'd like to have a look at. Mind, I'm no promisin' anythin' whatever.

I'll be free to come an' go."

"Of course," answered Mr. Wallace. "Then it's agreed, Captain! We'll leave Makupa together in the morning."

"Vera good. Now I'll be lookin' after a letter or so under the awnin'

aft where the shakin' ain't so strong." Montenay rose and strolled aft and was immediately absorbed in his traveling writing-case. Mr. Wallace gazed after him reflectively.

"There's a curious man, boys! We're in luck to have him along. There probably aren't a dozen men in Africa who haven't heard of him and there probably aren't a dozen who know him outside of officials. He always travels alone. If he strikes in at Zanzibar or Nairobi he's likely to come out at Cairo or the Cape."

"Strikes me as a good sport," agreed Burt heartily. "He don't say much but I'd hate to monkey with him when he gets mad. Say! Ever hear o'

Pongo, Uncle George?"

"Pongo?" repeated the explorer as he stared hard at Burt. "Pongo? No, don't think I have. What is it?"

The boys explained what had taken place the previous afternoon but to their surprise Mr. Wallace frowned disapproval. "Whatever it is, boys, it's his business. If you'll look at his arm you'll see a dozen scars. I have a few myself. That's where a native chief cuts a gash in his arm and ours, the cuts are rubbed together and we are then termed 'blood-brothers.' It may have been some such mark that scared the black boy."

"No it wasn't," a.s.serted Critch positively. "It looked like a cross.

Wasn't cut either. Looked like a burn more than anything else."

"Then forget it," commanded Mr. Wallace decisively. "It's none of our business. I must say that Montenay's mighty indefinite though. He says he's after ivory and wants to have a look at the country. But if I know anything he's not worrying about ivory this trip."

"Why not?" asked Burt. "D'you mean he's lying?"

"Lying is a strong term, Burt!" smiled his uncle. "It's not a nice word to use either. No, I think he's keeping us in the dark about his own projects. Probably he has some new animal or some new tribe he wants to be sure of getting all the credit for discovering. Naturally he wouldn't want to run any risk of our cutting in on him."

Just then the subject of their discussion rejoined them and the topic was changed. On up the river they went all that day while the big canoes followed closely with the paddling-chants of the men rising from time to time. The breeze created by their motion relieved them of the clouds of mosquitoes and other insects but the heat was so great that it even affected John to some extent.

Just before sunset they reached the Makupa station. This consisted of a large native village dominated by the State trading post, a corrugated iron building whose whitewashed walls contrasted strongly with the palm thatched huts of the blacks all around. The trader met them at the landing and proved to be a Belgian, pleasant and courteous in every way.

They spent the night here. In the morning they were up before daybreak and Mr. Wallace mentioned the compa.s.ses as they were dressing. At that moment Burt was speaking to Captain Montenay, and he saw a peculiar light flash into the little explorer's face when his uncle spoke. That look puzzled Burt somewhat. He was still more puzzled when Montenay rushed through his dressing and hurried from the room. The sudden change in the man had evidently been caused by his uncle's words, but Burt could not see any connection whatever.

When they entered the lamp-lit dining room for breakfast they found the agent and Captain Mac together. The former sprang up and greeted them effusively, hastily stuffing something into his pocket that looked to Burt like banknotes. Still, the boy remembered his uncle's words of the day before and made up his mind not to bother about other people's affairs.

"Oh, the compa.s.ses!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Wallace as the black boys brought in fruit and coffee. "Lieutenant, we lost two compa.s.ses coming up the river. It would be a great a.s.sistance if you would sell us a couple from your stores."

"Alas!" An expression of dismay rose to the Belgian's face and he spread out his hands helplessly. "My friend, I am grieved deeply to have to inform you that we have none! A trading party came down the river last week and completely cleaned me out, even to my own instrument. I am desolated, my heart is torn, but it is impossible!"

A sudden suspicion flashed across Burt's mind but as he glanced sharply at Captain Mac he dismissed it. Montenay was the picture of dismay, but to all their suggestions and queries the Belgian only returned a "desolated" shrug.

"Well, never mind." Mr. Wallace smiled at Montenay in resignation. "We still have ours. Two should be enough. Now make a good breakfast, boys!

We eat from chop-boxes after this."

With sunrise the caravan started north from the station. The river bottom was low but Captain Mac a.s.serted that after a day's journey they would find themselves on the higher plains, and this proved quite true.

On the second day they entered the great forests and left behind the half-civilized tribes. As they drew up to the top of a hill-crest that rose among the trees Critch caught Burt's arm and pointed ahead to where the jungle thinned out.

"There we are, ol' sport! Look at 'em, just look at 'em!"

And Burt saw through his gla.s.ses a number of black groups of animals, grazing and moving slowly about.

"What are they, Uncle George?" he cried in high excitement to Mr.

Wallace who was also looking through his gla.s.ses.

"Hartebeest, bushbuck and antelope," replied the explorer calmly. "If I'm not mistaken there's a rhino in that patch of bush about two miles to the right--see it? John, O John! Get those gun-boys on deck, will you?"