The giant, without waiting for a reply, took the child from Nan’s arms so gently that he did not even rouse him from his slumber.
The weapons were next carefully examined, and the provisions, having been repacked into one parcel, were consigned to the charge of Actaeon, who undertook to carry them on his back.
Cousin Benedict, whose wiry limbs seemed capable of bearing any amount of fatigue, was quite ready to start. It was doubtful whether he had noticed Harris’s disappearance; he was suffering from a loss which to him was of far greater importance. He had mislaid his spectacles and magnifying-glass. It had happened that Bat had picked them up in the long grass, close to the spot where the amateur naturalist had been lying, but acting on a hint from Dick Sands, he said nothing about them; in this way the entomologist, who, without his glasses could scarcely see a yard beyond his face, might be expected to be kept without trouble in the limits of the ranks, and having been placed between Actaeon and Austin with strict injunctions not to leave their side, he followed them as submissively as a blind man in leading-strings.
The start was made. But scarcely had the little troop advanced fifty yards upon their way, when Tom suddenly cried out—
“Where’s Dingo?”
With all the force of his tremendous lungs, Hercules gave a series of reverberating shouts:—
“Dingo! Dingo! Dingo!”
Not a bark could be distinguished in reply.
“Dingo! Dingo! Dingo!” again echoed in the air.
But all was silence.
Dick was intensely annoyed at the nonappearance of the dog; his presence would have been an additional safeguard in the event of any sudden surprise.
“Perhaps he has followed Harris,” suggested Tom.
“Far more likely he is on the track of Negoro,” rejoined Dick.
“Then Negoro, to a dead certainty,” said Hercules, “will put a bullet into his head.”
“It is to be hoped,” replied Bat, “that Dingo will strangle him first.”
Dick Sands, disguising his vexation, said—
“At any rate, we have no time to wait for the animal now: if he is alive, he will not fail to find us out. Move on, my lads! move on!”
The weather was very hot; ever since daybreak heavy clouds had been gathering upon the horizon, and it seemed hardly likely that the day would pass without a storm. Fortunately the woods were sufficiently light to ensure a certain amount of freshness to the surface of the soil. Here and there were large patches of tall, rank grass enclosed by clumps of forest trees. In some places, fossilized trunks, lying on the ground, betokened the existence of one of the coal districts that are common upon the continent of Africa. Along the glades the carpet of verdure was relieved by crimson stems and a variety of flowers; ginger-blossoms, blue and yellow, pale lobelias, and red orchids fertilized by the numerous insects that incessantly hovered about them. The trees did not grow in impenetrable masses of one species, but exhibited themselves in infinite variety. There was also a species of palm producing an oil locally much valued; there were cotton-plants growing in bushes eight or ten feet high, the cotton attached in long shreds to the ligneous stalks; and there were copals from which, pierced by the proboscis of certain insects, exudes an odorous resin that flows onto the ground and is collected by the natives. Then there were citrons and wild pomegranates and a score of other arborescent plants, all testifying to the fertility of this plateau of Central Africa. In many places, too, the air was fragrant with the odour of vanilla, though it was not possible to discover the shrub from which the perfume emanated.
In spite of it being the dry season, so that the soil had only been moistened by occasional storms, all trees and plants were flourishing in great luxuriance. It was the time of year for fever, but, according to Dr. Livingstone’s observation, the disorder may generally be cured by quitting the locality where it has been contracted. Dick expressed his hope that, in little Jack’s case, the words of the great traveller would be verified, and in encouragement of this sanguine view, pointed out to Mrs. Weldon that although it was past the time for the periodical return of the fever, the child was still slumbering quietly in Hercules’ arms.
The march was continued with as much rapidity as was consistent with caution. Occasionally, where the bushes and brushwood had been broken down by the recent passage of men or beasts, progress was comparatively easy; but much more frequently, greatly to Dick’s annoyance, obstacles of various sorts impeded their advance. Climbing plants grew in such inextricable confusion that they could only be compared to a ship’s rigging involved in hopeless entanglement; there were creepers resembling curved scimitars, thickly covered with sharp thorns; there were likewise strange growths, like vegetable serpents, fifty or sixty feet long, which seemed to have a cruel faculty for torturing every passenger with their prickly spines. Axe in hand, the negroes had repeatedly to cut their road through these bewildering obstructions that clothed the trees from their summit to their base.
Animal life was no less remarkable in its way than the vegetation. Birds in great variety flitted about in the ample foliage, secure from any stray shot from the little band, whose chief object it was to preserve its incognito. Guinea-fowls were seen in considerable numbers, francolins in several varieties, and a few specimens of the bird to which the Americans, in imitation of their note, have given the name of “whip-poor-will.” If Dick had not had too much evidence in other ways to the contrary, he might almost have imagined himself in a province of the New World.
Hitherto they had been unmolested by any dangerous wild beasts. During the present stage of their march a herd of giraffes, startled by their unexpected approach, rushed fleetly past; this time, however, without being represented as ostriches.
