CHAPTER XXIII

AN EYE FOR AN EYE

The expedition wandered southward leisurely, and Dane grew more savagely sullen as they passed dripping forest and foul morass in safety, until at last he ordered his tent to be pitched one sunset, fully a hundred yards from the camp. The light was failing when he stood outside it looking about him with a curious suggestion of anticipation in his face. They had reached the southern fringe of the Leopards' country, and another week's march should place them in touch with French officials. The forest was comparatively open, the cottonwoods growing well apart; and gazing between the long rows of towering trunks streaked by blue wood smoke, Dane could catch the shimmer of a sluggish creek. It was deep and miry, and haunted, as he had seen, by huge saurians, but a little produce evidently came down that way, for the bush path on either side was connected by a native ferry.

As he made a last survey the light died out; and his lamp was lighted when Amadu, Monday, and Bad Dollar came softly into the tent. Dane stood upright, but the rest crouched low among the cases, that they might not reveal their presence on the illuminated canvas. Monday growled a protest as he noticed how his master's figure was projected against it by the light; but his comments fell unheeded, for there was a definite purpose behind the white man's imprudence.

"Again I found the footsteps," Amadu reported, using a mixture of several tongues, as well as broken English. "The men who made them were tired, and have doubtless followed us far. They will surely be satisfied when they see us resting to-night."

Monday grinned wickedly; Bad Dollar flung back his woolly head and broke into a silent laugh; and Dane felt a thrill of satisfaction as he glanced at the speaker. The four formed a curiously assorted company; but one purpose dominated each of them equally, and the leader was contented with his assistants.

"One wore boots and trod in the soft places as no black man would," said Amadu, reading the unspoken question in the white man's eyes. "Another wore sandals, and went cunningly, as did the rest, walking as we do upon our naked feet. Still, they left this behind them among the thorns."

He held out what Dane was not surprised to see, a small tuft of leopard's fur, and laughed harshly.

"Ho, ho! We shall try whether they are devils with lead and steel!"

"The ferry canoe?" asked Dane briefly; and Amadu nodded.

"I go to see to it, and afterward it will need good witchcraft to find it. If any one would go south in a hurry he must swim to-night."

"There are crocodiles in that stream," smiled Dane. "You will take men you can trust and hide them where the path winds down to the water, Amadu. Monday, you will see that until I call, no boy leaves the camp, but let them lie down with their matchets beside them. Bad Dollar will wait with me; and I will borrow Cappy Maxwell's gun to-night, Amadu."

Sitting low among the cases now, Dane made careful preparations for his own share in the approaching tragedy. That it would prove one he felt certain. He cleaned Maxwell's gun with a loving care, polishing the inside of the barrel until it glistened, and touching each part of the action with oil. The weapon was a heavy, single eight-bore, with a rubber pad on the heel; part of this Dane cut away, leaving the steel bare, because he knew that at close quarters the butt of a heavy gun may prove as deadly as the muzzle. It was with a curious stirring of recollections that he saw the dead man's initials cut into the elevated rib, and because of them his face was the sterner as he laid down the weapon. At short range in the darkness it was likely to prove more formidable than any rifle, and--for Dane was wholly under the influence of the monomania--his own safety counted for little if he could use it with due effect.

Presently he reloaded half a dozen cartridges with heavy B pellets, crimping the wads down almost affectionately, and thrust one into the chamber and the rest into his pocket. Never were cartridges filled with greater care. Then he laid two of the colored lights Maxwell had brought beside the tent door, made sure he could find them by feeling alone, and placed a tin match-box in one pocket where it could be most quickly grasped.

At last all was ready, and Dane sat perched high on a deal case between the lamp and the canvas for a while. Any one in the forest could, of course, see him clearly; but though Dane expected his foes would strike that night he did not fear a long-range shot. Rideau, he knew, must have recognized that his late associate could lay a formidable complaint before the authorities, who, regarding his inland journeys with suspicion, would be glad to fasten any charge upon him, and perhaps equally glad of an excuse to send an expedition up into the Leopards' country.

After lying for a time on the matting at one end of the tent, he rose and turned the lamp out; the watching then was not cheerful, and it was comforting to feel the weight of the big gun upon his knee. The last hum of voices had died away in camp, the fires burned low, and except for an occasional floundering beside the creek, the bush was strangely silent. The darkness was now intense. The wild animals would await moonrise to begin their hunting; what Dane expected would happen before then. He could not see Bad Dollar, who crouched somewhere near the entrance of the tent, though he heard his file grate softly upon a matchet, and could picture him running a black thumb along the keen-edged blade at every cessation.

Confused memories crowded upon Dane, with Maxwell stalking through them all. He saw him again, alert, indomitable, resourceful, quelling the mutinous, cheering the dejected, and tending the sick. He saw him gasping his life away in that very tent, with, regardless of his own agony, words which would brighten all his partner's future upon his lips; and again a gust of passion stirred the lonely man in every fiber. It passed, and--for Dane was not for the time being wholly sane--left behind it a coldly murderous resolution.

Suddenly there was a touch upon his leg. Without a sound Bad Dollar had wriggled toward him. Turning as silently as he could, Dane crawled to the entrance, where he crouched with his right heel beneath him, behind the drawn-back sheeting which hung slackly. It was so dark that he could scarcely distinguish the nearest cottonwood; but though his ears failed to localize any definite sound he became conscious of some danger approaching. Under different circumstances Dane would have felt distinctly uneasy, knowing, as he did, that the thick gloom sheltered those who sought his life. Then, however, he feared only that he had not accurately loaded the cartridge, or that the damp had spoiled the fulminating mixture inside its cap; and his fingers were woodenly steady as they tightened on the gun.

He felt with one hand for the socket of the signal light and found it, stretched out a foot and pressed it against Bad Dollar when he touched him again warningly; and then the vague sensation of impending danger grew into shape at a recognizable sound. Noiselessly almost, but not quite, somebody or something was crawling toward the tent.

Dane suspended his very respiration as he strained his eyes, and listened. He could see nothing, and his ears seemed filled with a dull throbbing, but in spite of this he could hear the faintest of rustlings on two sides of the tent at once, and knew that, because no white man could move in such a manner, his dusky enemies were coming. One seemed to be making for the end of the tent, where his bed was spread; the other was creeping toward the entrance to prevent the escape of the victim in case his comrade failed at the first attempt. It was done with so little noise that Dane found it hard to realize he had creatures of flesh and blood to deal with, and not the malevolent devils the bushmen believed in. Bad Dollar made no further movement, and Dane crouched woodenly still, only sliding his forefinger inside the guard of the trigger when at last a spray of leaves swished softly a few yards away.

Then he heard somebody breathing close beside him, and knew that sudden death stood hidden behind the slacker sheeting which began to roll back very slowly; and yet, while the throbbing in his ears grew louder, he remained impassive another few seconds. He had awaited that moment patiently; and he meant to strike decisively, for his dead comrade's sake. There was no light. The night was black and thick; but some sense beside that of the optic nerve made it evident that part of the moving sheeting was more rigid than the rest because it rested against human flesh. Knowing that at the next move the assassin would fall over him, Dane felt for that portion of the sheeting with the muzzle of the gun while his forefinger contracted on the trigger.

The barrel found something that yielded as he added the last ounce of pressure; there was a detonation; the white man fell backward with his eyes filled with smoke and two fingers gashed by the trigger guard; and something that struggled convulsively fell upon the canvas and bore it down.

The tent collapsed behind Dane as he slipped from under it; but knowing how the heavy B-shot would at that distance smash through bone and muscle, he paid no more attention to this assailant. First he snapped out the spent cartridge and crammed another home, then, striking a match, touched the signal light. It smoldered for a moment, then a column of blue fire swept aloft, and its radiance which beat athwart the towering trunks showed a striking spectacle.

Close behind the white man a shapeless heap of fur and black flesh lay quivering upon the over-turned tent. Half-seen for a second a dim figure, whose garments were not those of a native, vanished among the remoter trunks. Men with weapons came flitting out of the shadows which shrouded the camp; and about thirty yards away a monstrous object with the head of a beast and the legs of a man was slinking toward a creeper festoon. Dane flung the gun to his shoulder and fired as it ran, but the glare of the light beat transversely along the barrel, blinding him. Springing clear of the filmy smoke, he saw the second assailant was still running, and he sprang forward without waiting to reload. The light would last but a few more seconds. Still, the object moved at twice his speed, and might have escaped but that as he blundered on, choking in his haste, a diminutive figure ran forth to meet it, and the beast flung an upper limb aloft. Dane saw the spear which had been meant for his destruction draw back to stab; but the negro, Bad Dollar, sprang sideways, and his broad matchet, long filed to a razor-edge, flared under the last flicker of the light as he swung it round his head. Then there was sudden darkness, a thud and a crash.

Dane, guessing that Bad Dollar's matchet had bitten deep, and that his carrier comrades would see his victim did not escape, turned at top-most speed in the direction of the creek. Men came running behind him; but a heavier sound was audible through the patter of their feet, and he knew that one who was not barefooted fled for his life near ahead. He was running fast, but Dane, flinging the gun down, knew that he was gaining, and remembered that the man he sought would find his passage barred across the creek. So they ran, straining every sinew in a desperate race. Now and then one smashed through a thorn brake, or staggered, catching his foot in a creeper vine, but neither went down, and the gurgle of the creek grew nearer all the time. Dane raised his voice, and though his cry was barely articulate it proved sufficient, and as Amadu's hail came back in answer the footsteps before him grew slower, and a tongue of flame shot up.

So far there had been no miscarriage, and to furnish light for the climax a torch had been kept ready by one of Amadu's men. It showed first the group of grim black figures which guarded the narrow path to the water through tall cane, and then a man in European dress who stood still, gasping with fear and rage.

It was Victor Rideau.

"See that no boy fires on him unless he moves!" Dane made shift to cry; and Rideau, turning, met him face to face.

"I have expected you a long time," Dane said brokenly, for the race had taxed his strength, and once more he was shaken by a fit of futile rage. "Now I can't tell you how I regret we did not meet just five minutes earlier."

This was an adequate expression of the pursuer's feelings, for as his enemy stood gazing about him in abject terror, Dane felt he could not strike him down in cold blood, and he longed fiercely that he might be provoked to some fresh violence.

"Can you understand, you thief and midnight assassin, that there is not enough room in this country for both of us?"

"I comprehend nothing, camarade," Rideau answered calmly. "What would you of me?"

"Satisfaction!" Dane tried to choke down his fury. "There is a long account between us, and we could have settled it with less difficulty if you had had the courage of your confederates a few minutes ago. As it is, you can choose between a dash for the forest and a volley as you go, or a journey down to the coast in my custody. There you will be turned over to the authorities. I reserve myself the privilege, if they do not render you incapable of further mischief."

Rideau laughed.

"There I should denounce you for the plunder and killing of the Indigene. The Administration has no charge against me. I am good friend of the sous official, me. My friend, you are excite, and talk foolishly."

"If the chief of the Administration is a friend of yours, his own words don't bear it out. I can substantiate quite sufficient against you; and unless I'm greatly mistaken, the man with the cross on his forehead lies riddled with big shot beside my tent. A number of my boys will swear to his identity. In the meantime I have no further words to waste with you. I intend to give the Administration the first opportunity for rewarding you. It will be time for me to take further steps if they do not profit by it as I think they will."

Dane felt that he was weak; but even in his passion there were things he could not do, and his enemy's helplessness was his protection. Also, he knew that justice is tempered with discretion throughout much of that country, and he hoped that if the Authorities suspected Rideau of different offenses, but could not convict him, they would see that this charge did not miscarry.

The assumption of indifference faded from Rideau's face, and with a swift glance over his shoulder he drew out his hand from under his jacket. Dane afterward decided that he saw, what all the rest were too intent to notice, that the torch was burning out; for with an evident effort and a shrug of his shoulders he answered quietly.

"La bas they laugh at you, and I make you pay. Alors, when I am impotent I surrender to the force majeure."

Dane, calling to Amadu, strode forward with the failing light upon him. Unarmed as he was, this was distinctly foolish, and he might have paid for his folly, for just before the negro dropped the torch Rideau flung one hand up, and simultaneously with a thin flash something hummed past the Briton's head. There was bewildering darkness, and Dane ran straight in upon his enemy, or where he supposed him to be, determined in spite of the pistol to end the feud there and then. Rideau, however, had beaten him again, for the growth about the water-side began crackling, and when some of Amadu's men fired into it, the sound did not cease, and they only came near destroying their master, who plunged savagely through the bending stems.

He fell into a pit of slime, sinking to the waist, and lost precious time floundering in its oozy grip before he dragged himself out. Then there was further ooze with matted roots which fouled his feet, while a sound behind him showed that the negroes were following. It was Amadu who, when he had waded up to the shoulders and sought for room to swim, dragged him backward by main force; and though Dane struggled, he was held fast in a grasp against which he was powerless.

"If the white man is alive he makes no sound," he said. "No man could find him in this darkness, but perhaps they who crawl along the bottom will. Still, when one brings the canoe up we will look for him."

As his reason returned to him Dane realized that the search would be useless. A hundred men might fail to find a fugitive who cowered motionless amid the luxuriant aquatic growth, though, as Amadu had suggested, the scaled inhabitants of the river would be less likely to miss him. Still, when somebody brought up a canoe he encouraged them by extravagant offers of cloth, and then turned back hurriedly toward the camp. It would, while the confusion lasted, lie open to attack; and Dane hoped that his enemy, if he succeeded in crossing the river, would leave a trail behind him which could be followed on the morrow.

Reaching his overturned tent he found a group of curious negroes clustered about it, and because a fire had been lighted, there was light to show that the huddled mass of fur and dusky skin lay where it had fallen. The canvas was foul with half-coagulated stains whose color made it unnecessary to inquire if the wound had been fatal. Dane had no compunction. The man who had been slain when seeking his life with devilish cunning was one of the league which had struck down his comrade. Stooping with a shudder of disgust, he stripped the leopard's fur from the face beneath, and was not surprised to see that a cross-shaped scar on the forehead showed lividly.

"Where is the other? There were two?" he asked; and it was with relief that he saw Bad Dollar, whom he had forgotten, shamble toward him and then turn beckoning. Dane followed the negro, who held high a blazing brand, toward where another monstrous object lay full length among the trampled undergrowth. The fur had fallen partly clear of the flesh beneath, and he saw that Bad Dollar's matchet had done its work.

"Come here, all of you," called Dane. "Tell them to look at this man's neck, Monday, and say if they know the meaning of what there is about it."

Monday talked with some of the negroes, who, chattering excitedly, bent with fear and hesitation, to examine the tattooed device.

"Them boy say this yellow nigger and them other be big cappy among them Leopard, sah," Monday interpreted. "That be the Ju-Ju mark, and no common nigger done wear him, sah."

"Cappy Maxwell was right again," said Dane. "Make me a bed in the camp and burn that tent to-morrow, Monday. I could not sleep in it--and I think until I leave this ghastly country I shall not sleep again. See to the sentries and let the rest lie down while they can. We lib for go on again with the sun."