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north along the edge of the jungle for a mile and then turned
straight into it toward the west. Meriem, following, payed
little attention to directions. She did not know exactly where
Hanson's camp lay and so she did not guess that he was not
leading her toward it. All night they rode, straight toward
the west. When morning came, Hanson permitted a short halt for
breakfast, which he had provided in well-filled saddle bags before
leaving his camp. Then they pushed on again, nor did they
halt a second time until in the heat of the day he stopped and
motioned the girl to dismount.
"We will sleep here for a time and let the ponies graze," he said.
"I had no idea the camp was so far away," said Meriem.
"I left orders that they were to move on at day break," explained
the trader, "so that we could get a good start. I knew that you
and I could easily overtake a laden safari. It may not be
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until tomorrow that we'll catch up with them."
But though they traveled part of the night and all the following
day no sign of the safari appeared ahead of them. Meriem, an
adept in jungle craft, knew that none had passed ahead of them
for many days. Occasionally she saw indications of an old spoor,
a very old spoor, of many men. For the most part they followed
this well-marked trail along elephant paths and through park-
like groves. It was an ideal trail for rapid traveling.
Meriem at last became suspicious. Gradually the attitude of the
man at her side had begun to change. Often she surprised him
devouring her with his eyes. Steadily the former sensation of
previous acquaintanceship urged itself upon her. Somewhere,
sometime
before she had known this man. It was evident that he had not
shaved for several days. A blonde stubble had commenced to cover
his neck and cheeks and chin, and with it the assurance that he was
no stranger continued to grow upon the girl.
It was not until the second day, however, that Meriem rebelled.
She drew in her pony at last and voiced her doubts. Hanson assured
her that the camp was but a few miles further on.
"We should have overtaken them yesterday," he said. "They must
have marched much faster than I had believed possible."
"They have not marched here at all," said Meriem. "The spoor
that we have been following is weeks old."
Hanson laughed.
"Oh, that's it, is it?" he cried. "Why didn't you say so before?
I could have easily explained. We are not coming by the same
route; but we'll pick up their trail sometime today, even if we
don't overtake them."
Now, at last, Meriem knew the man was lying to her. What a
fool he must be to think that anyone could believe such a
ridiculous explanation? Who was so stupid as to believe that
they could have expected to overtake another party, and he had
certainly assured her that momentarily he expected to do so, when
that party's route was not to meet theirs for several miles yet?
She kept her own counsel however, planning to escape at the
first opportunity when she might have a sufficient start of her
captor, as she now considered him, to give her some assurance
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of outdistancing him. She watched his face continually when
she could without being observed. Tantalizingly the placing of
his familiar features persisted in eluding her. Where had she
known him? Under what conditions had they met before she had
seen him about the farm of Bwana? She ran over in her mind all
the few white men she ever had known. There were some who
had come to her father's douar in the jungle. Few it is
true, but there had been some. Ah, now she had it! She had
seen him there! She almost seized upon his identity and then
in an instant, it had slipped from her again.
It was mid afternoon when they suddenly broke out of the
jungle upon the banks of a broad and placid river. Beyond, upon
the opposite shore, Meriem described a camp surrounded by a
high, thorn boma.
"Here we are at last," said Hanson. He drew his revolver and
fired in the air. Instantly the camp across the river was astir.
Black men ran down the river's bank. Hanson hailed them. But there
was no sign of the Hon. Morison Baynes.
In accordance with their master's instructions the blacks
manned a canoe and rowed across. Hanson placed Meriem in
the little craft and entered it himself, leaving two boys to watch
the horses, which the canoe was to return for and swim across
to the camp side of the river.
Once in the camp Meriem asked for Baynes. For the moment
her fears had been allayed by the sight of the camp, which she
had come to look upon as more or less a myth. Hanson pointed
toward the single tent that stood in the center of the enclosure.
"There," he said, and preceded her toward it. At the entrance
he held the flap aside and motioned her within. Meriem entered
and looked about. The tent was empty. She turned toward Hanson.
There was a broad grin on his face.
"Where is Mr. Baynes?" she demanded.
"He ain't here," replied Hanson. "Leastwise I don't see him,
do you? But I'm here, and I'm a damned sight better man than
that thing ever was. You don't need him no more--you got me,"
and he laughed uproariously and reached for her.
Meriem struggled to free herself. Hanson encircled her arms
and body in his powerful grip and bore her slowly backward
toward the pile of blankets at the far end of the tent. His face
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was bent close to hers. His eyes were narrowed to two slits of
heat and passion and desire. Meriem was looking full into his
face as she fought for freedom when there came over her a
sudden recollection of a similar scene in which she had been a
participant and with it full recognition of her assailant. He was
the Swede Malbihn who had attacked her once before, who had
shot his companion who would have saved her, and from whom
she had been rescued by Bwana. His smooth face had deceived
her; but now with the growing beard and the similarity of
conditions recognition came swift and sure.
But today there would be no Bwana to save her.
Chapter 21
The black boy whom Malbihn had left awaiting him in the
clearing with instructions to remain until he returned sat
crouched at the foot of a tree for an hour when he was suddenly
startled by the coughing grunt of a lion behind him. With celerity
born of the fear of death the boy clambered into the branches
of the tree, and a moment later the king of beasts entered the
clearing and approached the carcass of an antelope which, until
now, the boy had not seen.
Until daylight the beast fed, while the black clung, sleepless,
to his perch, wondering what had become of his master and the
two ponies. He had been with Malbihn for a year, and so was
fairly conversant with the character of the white. His knowledge
presently led him to believe that he had been purposely abandoned.
Like the balance of Malbihn's followers, this boy hated his master
cordially--fear being the only bond that held him to the white man.
His present uncomfortable predicament but added fuel to the fires
of his hatred.
As the sun rose the lion withdrew into the jungle and the black
descended from his tree and started upon his long journey back
to camp. In his primitive brain revolved various fiendish plans
for a revenge that he would not have the courage to put into [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]