The River of Darkness; Or, Under Africa Read online

Page 12


  CHAPTER XI.

  CANARIS UNFOLDS A TALE.

  "Well," said Canaris, "I will tell you. Rao Khan has promised your livesto the people. It was his only hope, and now, his word once given, hewill not dare to break it."

  Melton covered his face with his hands, and Guy staggered backward.

  "When?" he cried huskily. "Today?"

  "No," said Canaris, "not today. The Emir bids me tell you that you willhave four days yet to live. On the fifth day you will die by theexecutioner, in the square of the town."

  They shuddered as these dreadful words fell from the Greek's lips.

  "Is there no hope, then, at all?" said Melton. "Let us know the worst atonce and be done with it."

  Canaris made no reply for a moment. His eyes were fixed on the floor,and he seemed to be thinking deeply. When he looked up the expression ofhis face was changed. A strange light shone in his eye, a mixture oftriumph and fear.

  "I can tell you nothing now," he said hastily. "Tonight you shall havean answer. But tell me, how is your wound?"

  "Better," replied Melton. "I can scarcely feel it at all."

  "Good," said Canaris. "Now do just as I tell you. Lie down on the straw;pretend that you are much worse; moan loudly from time to time, and whenI come tonight I shall have something to impart to you."

  With this strange admonition, Canaris hastily left the dungeon and theguard rebolted the door.

  "Is the fellow crazy?" said Melton. "What can he mean to do?"

  "Crazy?" rejoined Guy. "No; I have a strange faith in that man, Melton.Do just as he tells you and see what turns up tonight."

  With much grumbling Melton assumed the part of a very sick man. Herather overdid the thing, in fact, for twice the guard opened the doorand looked in. About noon food was brought, and from that time no onecame near them.

  The minutes dragged along like hours. They tried to forget the awfulfate that stared them in the face, but in spite of the Greek'sencouraging words the future looked very black.

  At last the feeble light in their dungeon began to fade away, and soonthey were in darkness.

  "The fellow will never come back," said Melton bitterly. "It's all upwith us, Chutney, so don't try to raise any more false hopes."

  But Guy refused to give up, and his faith was rewarded. Quick footstepsapproached the dungeon, the bolts rattled, and Canaris entered with arude lamp and a leather case, which he placed carefully on the floor.

  Then he pulled a paper from his pocket and waved it gleefully.

  "See," he cried, "a permit from Rao Khan, admitting me to the prison atall times. I told him that your wound was very bad, that the Arab doctorhad failed to help you, and that I knew enough of English surgery tocure you if he would allow it. Rao Khan reluctantly consented, and hereI am."

  He listened intently for a moment, glanced round the dungeon, and thenwent on in a low, excited tone:

  "Get close together. I have something important to tell you."

  They squatted down in a group on the straw, and with a strange, exultantsparkle in his eyes, Canaris began:

  "When I came to Harar two years ago this very cell held a white slave,like yourselves an Englishman. He was an old man, with long white hairand beard, and had been so long in slavery that he had forgotten his ownname and could scarcely speak the English tongue.

  "My duties then were to carry food and drink to the slaves, and beforelong I was on intimate terms with the old Englishman. He was very ill,and the Arab doctors made him no better. Perhaps it was old age that wasthe trouble, but at all events he died two months after I came. Atdifferent times he had told me the story of his life, and that is what Iam going to tell you now.

  "He had been thirty years in slavery. How and where he had been capturedhe could no longer remember. His mind was a blank on that point. But onething he told me that is important. For twenty years he had lived amongthe Gallas in a village fifty miles to the south of Harar, and it was afew years after he had been brought there that he nearly succeeded inmaking his escape.

  "He had often heard from the natives of an underground river that wassaid to exist, and which emptied either into the River Juba or into thesea. The tales concerning the river were many and strange, but the chiefof the Gallas assured him that at one time a tribe of natives had livedin the mouth of a huge cavern which gave access to the river."

  "I have heard something of that myself," interrupted Melton. "An Arab atZanzibar told me, but I never had any faith in the story."

  "That river exists," said Canaris solemnly. "The Englishman found it."

  "What!" cried Guy and Melton in one breath. "He found the undergroundriver?"

  "Yes, he discovered it," resumed Canaris. "He found it one day whilehunting in a concealed cavern. He ventured down and came to a greatsandy beach, past which flowed swiftly a broad stream. On the beach layhalf a dozen strong canoes with paddles. All this he saw by the lightthat streamed in from narrow crevices overhead. He went back to thevillage and began to lay aside provisions for the journey, for heintended making his escape by the river. In a week all was ready. He hadconcealed near the cavern supplies for a long voyage. The very day fixedfor his escape he was sold to a Galla chief who lived twenty milesdistant. In the years that followed he made many attempts to escape, buton every occasion was captured and brought back. At last he was given astribute to the Emir by this Galla chief, and here in this dungeon, onthe spot you are sitting on now, he breathed his last."

  Canaris paused and helped himself to a glass of water.

  "A strange story, indeed," said Guy; "but what has it got to do withus?"

  "I will tell you," responded Carnaris, with a slight tremor in hisvoice. "It may have nothing to do with any of us, and it may be of thegreatest importance to us all."

  "Did the old man tell you where to find the cavern?" asked Guy.

  "No," answered Canaris, "but before he died he gave me this," and,pulling a folded bit of linen from his pocket he handed it to Guy.

  "Can you read that?" he asked in strange excitement. "I have never beenable to make anything out of it."

  Guy pulled it carefully open and gazed with interest on the fadedcharacters that had apparently been written in blood.

  "Yes," he said after a pause, "I can read it. It is French."

  "Go on," said Canaris. "Tell me quickly what it is."

  "It translates as follows," rejoined Guy:

  "Half way between Elephant Peak and the Lion's Head. The south side ofthe stone kraal. The rock with the cross."

  Canaris sprang to his feet and staggered back against the wall of thedungeon.

  "It was Providence that brought you here," he cried. "It is wonderful,wonderful!"

  "What do you mean?" said Guy. "How can this aid us?"

  "It is the secret of the cave," replied Canaris. "The stone kraal is acurious formation of rocks that lie between the two mountains that bearthose names. Close by is the village of the chief of all the Gallas."

  "But how under the sun can this discovery benefit us?" repeated Guy,half angrily. "Can you open our prison for us, Canaris?"

  The Greek threw a cautious glance toward the door and then whispered ina voice that trembled with emotion: "Nothing is impossible; hope for thebest. But stay," he added in sudden fear; "I must have money, or all islost. Alas! you have none, I am sure."

  For answer Guy hastily rose, and, loosening his clothes, unhooked asmall buckskin belt. He tore open the end and dropped a stream of goldensovereigns into his hand.

  "Here is money!" he cried. "The Arabs overlooked this when they searchedme."

  The Greek's eyes glittered.

  "Give me twenty," he said. "That will be plenty."

  He stowed the coins away in his clothes and picked up the lamp.

  "I must leave you now," he said. "I will return in the morning."

  He would have added more, but steps were heard in the corridor. Thedungeon door clanged behind him, and Guy a
nd Melton were left indarkness, half stupefied by the strange story they had just heard and bythe hope of escape which the Greek so confidently held out to them.