Intuitively the multitude comprehended his meaning. Here was the explanation of the mystery. It was this white woman with her child that had been the cause of all their misery, it was owing to them that the clouds had poured down this desolating rain. With yells of execration the whole mob made a dash towards the unfortunate lady who, pale with fright and rigid as a statue, stood clasping her boy to her side. The mganga, however, anticipated them. Having pushed his way through the infuriated throng, he seized the child and held him high in the air, as though about to hurl him to the ground, a peace-offering to the offended gods.
Mrs. Weldon gave a piercing shriek, and fell senseless to the earth.
Lifting her up, and making a sign to the queen that all would now be right, the mganga retreated carrying both mother and child through the crowd, who retreated before him and made an open passage.
Alvez now felt that it was time to interfere. Already one of his prisoners had eluded his vigilance, and was he now to see two more carried off before his eyes? was he to lose the whole of the expected ransom? no, rather would he see Kazonndé destroyed by a deluge, than resign his chance of securing so good a prize. Darting forwards he attempted to obstruct the magician’s progress; but public opinion was against him; at a sign from the queen, he was seized by the guards, and he was aware well enough of what would be the immediate consequence of resistance. He deemed it prudent to desist from his obstruction, but in his heart he bitterly cursed the stupid credulity of the natives for supposing that the blood of the white woman or the child could avail to put an end to the disasters they were suffering.
Making the natives understand that they were not to follow him, the magician carried off his burden as easily as a lion would carry a couple of kids. The lady was still unconscious, and Jack was all but paralyzed with fright. Once free of the enclosure the mganga crossed the town, entered the forest, and after a march of three miles, during which he did not slacken his pace for a moment, reached the bank of a river which was flowing towards the north.
Here in the cavity of a rock, concealed by drooping foliage, a canoe was moored, covered with a kind of thatched roof; on this the magician deposited his burden, and sending the light craft into midstream with a vigorous kick, exclaimed in a cheery voice—
“Here they are, captain! both of them! Mrs. Weldon and Master Jack, both! We will be off now! I hope those idiots of Kazonndé will have plenty more rain yet! Off we go!”
XVII
Drifting Down the Stream
“Off we go!” It was the voice of Hercules addressing Dick Sands, who, frightfully debilitated by recent sufferings, was leaning against Cousin Benedict for support. Dingo was lying at his feet.
Mrs. Weldon gradually recovered her consciousness. Looking around her in amazement she caught sight of Dick.
“Dick, is it you?” she muttered feebly.
The lad with some difficulty arose, and took her hand in his, while Jack overwhelmed him with kisses.
“And who would have thought it was you, Hercules, that carried us away?” said the child; “I did not know you a bit; you were so dreadfully ugly.”
“I was a sort of a devil, you know, Master Jack,” Hercules answered; “and the devil is not particularly handsome;” and he began rubbing his chest vigorously to get rid of the white pattern with which he had adorned it.
Mrs. Weldon held out her hand to him with a grateful smile.
“Yes, Mrs. Weldon, he has saved you, and although he does not own it, he has saved me too,” said Dick.
“Saved!” repeated Hercules, “you must not talk about safety, for you are not saved yet.”
And pointing to Benedict, he continued—
“That’s where your thanks are due; unless he had come and informed me all about you and where you were, I should have known nothing, and should have been powerless to aid you.”
It was now five days since he had fallen in with the entomologist as he was chasing the manticora, and unceremoniously had carried him off.
As the canoe drifted rapidly along the stream, Hercules briefly related his adventures since his escape from the encampment on the Cuanza. He described how he had followed the kitanda which was conveying Mrs. Weldon; how in the course of his march he had found Dingo badly wounded; how he and the dog together had reached the neighbourhood of Kazonndé, and how he had contrived to send a note to Dick, intending to inform him of Mrs. Weldon’s destination. Then he went on to say that since his unexpected rencontre with Cousin Benedict he had watched very closely for a chance to get into the guarded depot, but until now had entirely failed. A celebrated mganga had been passing on his way through the forest, and he had resolved upon impersonating him as a means of gaining the admittance he wanted. His strength made the undertaking sufficiently easy; and having stripped the magician of his paraphernalia, and bound him securely to a tree, he painted his own body with a pattern like that which he observed on his victim’s chest, and having attired himself with the magical garments was quite equipped to impose upon the credulous natives. The result of his stratagem they had all that day witnessed.
He had hardly finished his account of himself when Mrs. Weldon, smiling at his success, turned to Dick.
“And how, all this time, my dear boy, has it fared with you?” she asked.
Dick said—
“I remember very little to tell you. I recollect being fastened to a stake in the riverbed
