Just at this moment Jack1 woke up and put his arms round his mother's neck. His eyes were brighter, and there was manifestly no return of fever.
"You are better, darling!" said Mrs. Weldon, pressing him tenderly to her.
"Yes, mamma, I am better; but I am very thirsty."
Some cold water was soon procured2, which the child drank eagerly, and then began to look about him. His first inquiry3 was for his old friends, Dick and Hercules, both of whom approached at his summons and greeted him affectionately.
"Where is the horse?" was the next question.
"Gone away, Master Jack; I am your horse now," said Hercules.
"But you have no bridle4 for me to hold," said Jack, looking rather disappointed.
"You may put a bit in my mouth if you like, master Jack," replied Hercules, extending his jaws5, "and then you may pull as hard as you please."
"O, I shall not pull very hard," said Jack; "but haven't we nearly come to Mr. Harris's farm?"
Mrs. Weldon assured the child that they should soon be where they wanted to be, and Dick, finding that the conversation was approaching dangerous ground, proposed that the journey should be now resumed. Mrs. Weldon assented6; the encampment was forthwith broken up and the march continued as before.
[Illustration: It was a scene only too common in Central Africa]
In order not to lose sight of the watercourse, it was necessary to cut a way right through the underwood: progress was consequently very slow; and a little over a mile was all that was accomplished7 in about three hours. Footpaths8 had evidently once existed, but they had all become what the natives term "dead," that is, they had become entirely9 overgrown with brushwood and brambles. The negroes worked away with a will; Hercules, in particular, who temporarily resigned his charge to Nan, wielded10 his axe11 with marvellous effect, all the time giving vent12 to stentorian13 groans14 and grunts15, and succeeded in opening the woods before him as if they were being consumed by a devouring16 fire.
Fortunately this heavy labour was not of very long duration.
After about a mile, an opening of moderate width, converging17 towards the stream and following its bank, was discovered in the underwood. It was a passage formed by elephants, which apparently18 by hundreds must be in the habit of traversing this part of the forest. The spongy soil, soaked by the downpour of the rainy season, was everywhere indented19 with the enormous impressions of their feet.
But it soon became evident that elephants were not the only living creatures that had used this track. Human bones gnawed20 by beasts of prey21, whole human skeletons, still wearing the iron fetters22 of slavery, everywhere strewed23 the ground. It was a scene only too common in Central Africa, where like cattle driven to the slaughter24, poor miserable25 men are dragged in caravans26 for hundreds of weary miles, to perish on the road in countless27 numbers beneath the trader's lash28, to succumb29 to the mingled30 horrors of fatigue31, privation, and disease, or, if provisions fail, to be butchered, without pity or remorse32, by sword and gun.
That slave-caravans had passed that way was too obvious to permit a doubt. For at least a mile, at almost every step Dick came in contact with the scattered33 bones; while ever and again huge goat suckers, disturbed by the approach of the travellers, rose with flapping wings, and circled round their heads.
The youth's heart sank with secret dismay lest Mrs. Weldon should divine the meaning of this ghastly scene, and appeal to him for explanation, but fortunately she had again insisted on carrying her little patient, and although the child was fast asleep, he absorbed her whole attention. Nan was by her side, almost equally engrossed34. Old Tom alone was fully35 alive to the significance of his surroundings, and with downcast eyes he mournfully pursued his march. Full of amazement36, the other negroes looked right and left upon what might appear to them as the upheaval37 of some vast cemetery38, but they uttered no word of inquiry or surprise.
Meantime the bed of the stream had increased both in breadth and depth, and the rivulet39 had in a degree lost its character of a rushing torrent40. This was a change which Dick Sands observed hopefully, interpreting it as an indication that it might itself become navigable, or would empty itself into some more important tributary41 of the Atlantic. His resolve was fixed42: he would follow its course at all hazards. As soon, therefore, as he found that the elephant's track was quitting the water's edge, he made up his mind to abandon it, and had no hesitation43 in again resorting to the use of the axe. Once more, then, commenced the labour of cutting a way through the entanglement44 of bushes and creepers that were thick upon the soil. It was no longer forest through which they were wending their arduous45 path; trees were comparatively rare; only tall clumps46 of bamboos rose above the grass, so high, however, that even Hercules could not see above them, and the passage of the little troop could only have been discovered by the rustling47 in the stalks.
In the course of the afternoon, the soil became soft and marshy48. It was evident that the travellers were crossing plains that in a long rainy season must be inundated49. The ground was carpeted with luxuriant mosses50 and graceful51 ferns, and the continual appearance of brown hematite wherever there was a rise in the soil, betokened52 the existence of a rich vein53 of metal beneath.
Remembering what he had read in Dr. Livingstone's account of these treacherous54 swamps, Dick bade his companions take their footing warily55. He himself led the way. Tom expressed his surprise that the ground should be so soaked when there had been no rain for some time.
"I think we shall have a storm soon," said Bat,
"All the more reason, then," replied Dick, "why we should get away from these marshes56 as quickly as possible. Carry Jack again, Hercules; and you, Bat and Austin, keep close to Mrs. Weldon, so as to be able to assist her if she wants your help. But take care, take care, Mr. Benedict!" he cried out in sudden alarm; "what are you doing, sir?"
"I'm slipping in," was poor Benedict's helpless reply. He had trodden upon a kind of quagmire57 and, as though a trap had been opened beneath his feet, was fast disappearing into the slough59. Assistance was immediately rendered, and the unfortunate naturalist60 was dragged out, covered with mud almost to his waist, but thoroughly61 satisfied because his precious box of specimens62 had suffered no injury. Actæon undertook for the future to keep close to his side, and endeavour to avoid a repetition of the mishap63.
The accident could not be said to b............