formation.
'Quick, Romero,' shouted Zveri, 'take command up in front. I will cover the rear with Mori and prevent desertions.'
The Mexican sprang past him and with the aid of Ivitch and some of the black chiefs he deployed one company in a long skirmish line, with which he advanced slowly; while Kitembo followed with half the rest of the expedition acting as a support, leaving Ivitch, Mori, and Zveri to organize a reserve from the remainder.
After the first widely scattered shots, the firing had ceased, to be followed by a silence even more ominous to the overwrought nerves of the black soldiers. The utter silence of the enemy, the lack of any sign of movement in the grasses ahead of them, coupled with the mysterious warnings which still rang in their ears, convinced the blacks that they faced no mortal foe.
'Turn back!' came mournfully from the grasses ahead. 'This is the last warning. Death will follow disobedience.'
The line wavered, and to steady it Romero gave the command to fire. In response came a rattle of musketry out of the grasses ahead of them, and this time a dozen men went down, killed or wounded.
'Charge!' cried Romero, but instead the men wheeled about and broke for the rear and safety.
At sight of the advance line bearing down upon them, throwing away their rifles as they ran, the support turned and fled, carrying the reserve with it, and the whites were carried along in the mad rout.
In disgust, Romero fell back alone. He saw no enemy, for none pursued him, and this fact induced within him an uneasiness that the singing bullets had been unable to arouse. As he plodded on alone far in the rear of his companions, he began to share to some extent the feeling of unreasoning terror that had seized his black companions, or at least, if not to share it, to sympathize with them. It is one thing to face a foe that you can see, and quite another to be beset by an invisible enemy, of whose very appearance, even, one is ignorant.
Shortly after Romero re-entered the forest, he saw someone walking along the trail ahead of him; and presently, when he had an unobstructed view, he saw that it was Zora Drinov.
He called to her then, and she turned and waited for him.
'I was afraid that you had been killed, Comrade,' she said.
'I was born under a lucky star,' he replied smiling. 'Men were shot down on either side of me and behind me. Where is Zveri?'
Zora shrugged. 'I do not know,' she answered.
'Perhaps he is trying to reorganize the reserve,' suggested Romero.
'Doubtless,' said the girl shortly.
'I hope he is fleet of foot then,' said the Mexican, lightly.
'Evidently he is,' replied Zora.
'You should not have been left alone like this,' said the man.
'I can take care of myself,' replied Zora.
'Perhaps,' he said, 'but if you belonged to me-'
'I belong to no one, Comrade Romero,' she replied icily.
'Forgive me, Senorita,' he said. 'I know that. I merely chose an unfortunate way of trying to say that if the girl I loved were here she would not have been left alone in the forest, especially when I believe, as Zveri must believe, that we are being pursued by an enemy.'
'You do not like Comrade Zveri, do you, Romero?'
'Even to you, Senorita,' he replied, 'I must admit, since you ask me, that I do not.'
'I know that he has antagonized many.'
'He has antagonized all-except you, Senorita.'
'Why should I be excepted?' she asked. 'How do you know that he has not antagonized me also?'
'Not deeply, I am sure,' he said, 'or else you would not have consented to become his wife.'
'And how do you know that I have?' she asked.
'Comrade Zveri boasts of it often,' replied Romero.
'Oh, he does?' nor did she make any other comment.
Chapter 17: A Gulf That Was Bridged
THE general rout of Zveri's forces ended only when their last camp had been reached and even then only for part of the command, for as night fell it was discovered that fully twenty-five percent of the men were missing, and among the absentees were Zora and Romero. As the stragglers came in, Zveri questioned each about the girl, but no one had seen her. He tried to organize an expedition to go back in search of her, but no one would accompany him. He threatened and pleaded, only to discover that he had lost all control of his men. Perhaps he would have gone back alone, as he insisted that he intended doing; but he was relieved of this necessity when, well after dark, the two walked into camp together.
At sight of them Zveri was both relieved and angry. 'Why didn't you remain with me?' he snapped at Zora.
'Because I cannot run so fast as you,' she replied, and Zveri said no more.
From the darkness of the trees above the camp came the now familiar warning. 'Desert the whites!' A long silence followed this, broken only by the nervous whisperings of the blacks, and then the voice spoke again. 'The trails to your own countries are free from danger, but death walks always with the white men. Throw away your uniforms and leave the white men to the jungle and to me.'
A black warrior leaped to his feet and stripped the French uniform from his body, throwing it upon a cooking fire that burned near him. Instantly others followed his example.
'Stop that!' cried Zveri.
'Silence, white man!' growled Kitembo.
'Kill the whites!' shouted a naked Basembo warrior.
Instantly there was a rush toward the whites, who were gathered near Zveri, and then from above them came a warning cry. 'The whites are mine!' it cried. 'Leave them to me.'
For an instant the advancing warriors halted; and then he, who had constituted himself their leader, maddened perhaps by his hatred and his blood lust, advanced again grasping his rifle menacingly.
From above a bow string twanged. The black, dropping his rifle, screamed as he tore at an arrow protruding from his chest; and, as he fell forward upon his face, the other blacks fell back, and the whites were left alone, while the Negroes huddled by themselves in a far corner of the camp. Many of them would have deserted that night, but they feared the darkness of the jungle and the menace of the thing hovering above them.
Zveri strode angrily to and fro, cursing his luck, cursing the blacks, cursing every one. 'If I had had any help, if I had had any cooperation,' he grumbled, 'this would not have happened, but I cannot do everything alone.'
'You have done this pretty much alone,' said Romero.
'What do you mean?' demanded Zveri.
'I mean that you have made such an overbearing ass of yourself that you have antagonized everyone in the expedition, but even so they might have carried on if they had had any confidence in your courage no man likes to follow a coward.'
'You call me that, you yellow greaser,' shouted Zveri, reaching for his revolver.
'Cut that,' snapped Romero. 'I have you covered. And let me tell you now that if it weren't for Senorita Drinov I would kill you on the spot and rid the world of at least one crazy mad dog that is threatening the entire world with the hydrophobia of hate and suspicion. Senorita Drinov saved my life once. I have not forgotten that; and because, perhaps, she loves you, you are safe, unless I am forced to kill you in self-defense.'
'This is utter insanity,' cried Zora. 'There are five of us here alone with a band of unruly blacks who fear and hate us. Tomorrow, doubtless, we shall be deserted by them. If we hope ever to get out of Africa alive, we must stick together.
Forget your quarrels, both of you, and let us work together in harmony hereafter for our mutual salvation.'
'For your sake, Senorita, yes,' said Romero.
