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Also, while Girardi waited for the detachment which had marched inland on secret business, Moslem Senegali and white Christian died, because that part of Africa is deadly in a bad season even to colored intruders, and when one of the party came back alone with a tale of suffering he gladly turned the vessel's head towards the sea.

But the pestilence followed her, and by glaring sandbar or in the shadows of the dim forest little crosses marked the last resting-places of those they left behind, while those who lived grew weaker every day. Now Girardi was straining his eyes to find a buoy he had placed at lower water upon a sandy shoal, not knowing that the tattooed tribesmen, who considered the big iron cylinder, which might be forged into spear heads, was wasting its utility in the river, had prudently removed it.

So presently the ebony Senegali, who gripped the steering-wheel in answer to a question,said:

"I see a ripple in the water, but there is no buoy. This is either the work of magic or some accursed heathen has stolen it."

Then the treacherous current which slid seawards smooth as oil at over four knots an hour wrinkled ahead, and the wheel-chains rattled, while Girardi stretched out a shaking hand towards the telegraph. A gong clanged below, but there was no slackening of the vibration, perhaps because the man who should have heard it lay laughing foolishly upon the floor-plates of the engine-room. So, with propeller thrashing full-speed, and a shouting on the bridge, the steamer drove on until a few minutes later her forefoot struck something with a sickening crash. Over she rolled, lifting one weedy bilge in the air and grinding the other into the sand, while the current drove her sideways across the shoal. Muddy water leapt and spouted along the inclined deck, the half-immersed propel

ler commenced a horrible uproar as it whirred round in free air, and sickly black men were scrambling everywhere. Two leapt out into the river, and were probably speared by the tribesmen, for they never came back again. Then some one stopped the engines, and a pulsatory roar of escaping steam drowned all other sound, while a bare-headed officer shouted himself hoarse in an effort to restore order.

Presently the grinding and crashing ceased, the rush of steam died away, and the vessel rose more upright as she settled herself in the sand, and lay there hard and fast, with the muddy current gurgling mockingly as it raced past her. Then the sable seamen settled down into the fatalist's apathy, and their leader, gazing at the pitiless heavens and flaming river, said:

"While there was hope we obeyed the white man and worked on. Now the food is spent, and all are sick, so it is doubtless written that we shall die."

In the little sweltering chart-room two haggard white men took counsel together, and the Commander watched them stupidly, trying to understand, for the throbbing in his head grew louder and almost deafened him, so he lay still, only plucking at his garments with claw-like hands. One afterwards went down stream to bring back help if he could, and the other tried to set the sickly crew to work heaving the vessel off, but some lay down beside the winches from utter weariness, and the rest dragged themselves about despairingly, for, as they said, it was no use fighting against destiny. So day by day the little vessel lay aground under the burning heat, and the striken wretches crouched gasping beneath the awnings, looking for the help that never came, until again the red sun dipped behind the forest, and with the sudden darkness it grew hotter.

It was about this time that Fleming, the trader, lounged one night under the

roofed veranda of his lonely factory, which was perched on piles above a muddy creek. The air was hot and heavy with the smell of the river mud, and below him white trains of ghostly mist wreathed themselves along the edge of the surrounding forest. Sometimes the whine of a crocodile rose up from the slimy creek, while centipedes, snakes and scorpions strove together, rustling in the thatch above his head. In the dimly lighted room behind him processions of big brown cockroaches crawled across the mildewed walls, and an odor of stale tobacco, rotten wood and kerosene drifted out through the window, while its temperature would have put fear into the hearts of the unacclimatized.

Fleming, however, was used to all this, for he was a big bronzed man who defied the fever, and chiefly by right of personal valor, acted as unofficial ruler of a turbulent neighborhood. Other white agents had tried it, and either received their dismissal by the malaria, or after living in a state of fear and tension, went back with appalling stories about the place. Then Fleming took the reins and held them in a strong hand, and enjoyed peace be. cause it became apparent that he was a dangerous person to meddle with. Presently a woolly-haired Krooboy, wearing a red tennis-jacket and the primitive waist-cloth, laid a tray on the little table, and the young assistant's eyes glistened at the sight of a whisky bottle. Then Fleming, who owed his safety to his knowledge of human na. ture, said, quietly:

"Benson, in a hole like this, that means cutting your last hope adrift. No, you needn't explain; I haven't stewed long years in the tropics without learning the feeling, and I also know what it means to give in. Muddy claret isn't wholesome, but too much of that other is deadly. I almost think I'm drifting the same way myself now

there is nothing to do. Confound it, why can't they settle that inland palaver? Idleness in this heat kills more men than fever. So as a matter of precaution. Bad Dollah, you bring in more of them bottle."

There was a swing of the brawny shoulders, and a bottle swept out in a parabola across the creek, to crash with a sharp tinkle against a cottonwood, while the next spread destruction among the scaly things which crawled in a festering pool, and a third burst into fragments against an advancing canoe. The Krooboy attendant looked on stolidly, for he had learned not to be surprised at anything his master did, while Benson made no comment, for he fancied he understood.

"Rather rough on the firm," said Fleming, with a laugh. "Ah! here's that canoe nigger. I thought I had settled him with the last bottle," and a big river man, wearing very little besides designs in blue tattoo, pompously climbed the veranda stairway, holding out his messenger's credentials in the shape of an old umbrella stick which some genius had embellished with rings of gold paint.

"Hallo!" said Fleming. "Has your master sent you with oil to pay for the cotton piece, or to 'tief something? My word, it's a pity I didn't catch you with that bottle," and the negro grinned approvingly, ere, being proud of his palaver English, he answered:

"No, sah, headman Shulane not dun 'tief enough for pay for them cloth yet, but he send a message-how much them low trader give me for a 'teamboat? "Teamboat live in his river with white man too much sick, be them other little white man more debbil than you. Shulane say, you give me enough, I dun sell him yam to poison him, then you come and 'tief him 'teamboat. Black man and white man they all dun die too much."

"A most ingenious savage," said

Fleming aside.

"You can't beat this brand of native for cold-blooded deviltry. It's one of the French treaty hunters or sounding parties; they've been taking an unholy interest of late in this river." Then with a brief "Get out, you sable scoundrel," he seized the negro by the shoulders and flung him halfway down the veranda stairway, pitching his insignia of office after him, with the answer, "Tell Shulane if he hurts one of those sick men I'll turn out my Krooboys with matchets and come up and burn his place, and he should know by this time I am generally as good as my word."

Next he flung himself down in the canvas chair, stretched out one hand towards the tray, and drew it back with a laugh, saying:

"I forgot. Of course, from one point of view, they deserve to come to grief, but you can't let white men die off unhelped, if it's only for the credit of one's color. Besides I'm sick of this killing monotony. Suppose you go down and muster the Krooboys."

Presently a swarm of dusky laborers, brawny, good-humored pagans from the distant beaches of Liberia, gathered shouting and laughing in the dewwet compound, and Fleming, leaning over the veranda balustrade, made a speech to them, pointed with the whimsical sayings which appeal to the negro mind.

Next he called up the big headman and gave him a rifle, with its striker removed as a measure of precaution, because the West African loves firearms rather well than wisely, and left him with a picked few in charge of the factory, though he carefully hid the keys of the store shed. Then four big canoes were thrust off from the miry bank, and, at a short word of command, the long paddles whirled together. Muddy foam flew up behind them, the "thud-thud" grew sharper, and a wildly musical, chanty

.

ringing far across the misty forest kept time to each sturdy stroke.

"I suppose I'm a fool," said Fleming, "and am probably bringing the river pirates down upon our heads. Still, you see, one must do something. Hyah, you Krooboy, every boy in them canoe which first catch them 'teamboat get two piece of cloth. Now, Benson, I think you'll see a circus."

He did, for the splash and swirl of water grew yet faster as the canoes swept forward, gurgling through the shadows, until in a shallow reach, where the channel narrowed in and none would give place, they drove crashing into each other. Then the sable paddlers smote their neighbors with blade and shaft, clawed each other's woolly hair, screamed and yelled and laughed, while Fleming lay back shaking with merriment, until somehow they drew clear again, and shot out into a broader river. It was the second evening when, spread out in a straggling line, they came sliding down a lake-like reach. The weary men swung slowly with the glistening blades, and the two Europeans ached all over from crouching many hours on end in the stern. Ahead, the fever-mist rolled slowly across the waters, and a blue-gray dimness, which seemed charged with heat, hung above, while tall palms ashore rose up like an island out of drifting vapor. The river shimmering oilily was lost in the haze ahead; no sound but the beat of paddles broke the curious stillness, and it seemed to Benson they might have been translated into some forgotten region of fairyland.

Then a howl rose up from the bows of the leading canoe, and, dimly seen through the vapor, a black patch loomed out. The Krooboys forgot their weariness, only remembering the promised pieces of cloth, and, with a deepthroated roar of challenge to each other, the canoes surged forward. Higher and higher rose the black hulk of the

stranded gunboat, and Fleming, watching her intently, said:

"What are they doing forward?" By George, that looks very like a pivotgun," and with a wrench of his shoulders he swung the canoe off at a tangent with the steering paddle. It was well he did so, for a long red flash blazed over the steamer's side, a cloud of yellow smoke blotted out half her length, and a whirring something hurled up a fountain of water where they had been.

Then Fleming rose in the sternsheets, shouting, "Confound you, you lunatics, are you trying to kill your friends?" and a hoarse European voice made some unintelligible answer from the stranded vessel. There was a rattle of matchets in the leading canoe, for the Krooboy generally carries with him the stout blade which is equally useful for domestic service and as a weapon of offence, and the paddles splashed furiously.

"Go on like mad," he shouted to his own crew. "Benson, we must head them. Those are Cavally fighting men, and they would rather enjoy storming the gunboat." Then shouting mingled warnings and offers of goodwill he stood upright, waving his sun helmet, encouraging the paddlers into a fierce race. With a grinding shock the canoes blundered alongside, wild black men climbing like monkeys fell over the rail, and then halted in wonder as a haggard white skeleton who, grimed by powder-fouling, stood sponge in hand beside the gun, flung himself dramatically into their master's arms, who seemed embarrassed by the proc

ess.

"Ces diables d'indigènes-how you say? furious savages-have threaten us," he said. "Soit béni! how you come in time!" and starving black wretches in uniform clustered round the big, naked Krooboys, who grinned sympathetically as, following their mas

ter's example, they made friends with them. Then Fleming was led into the little chart-room, where another skeleton in white uniform lay huddled in a chair, and looked at him with glazed and sunken eyes, as he feebly muttered something which ended with "mes pauvres enfants."

"He thinks all times of the men we lose," the other explained, "and he not comprehend much because of the fever, while of the cabin store he give to the sick Senegali, and so he has nothing to eat."

"Yes, I know," said Fleming. "I have been nearly starved myself. Here, Benson, see to bringing the food in, and start Bad Dollar cooking a banquet. Now, Lieutenant, I am going to help you heave this vessel off; and I propose to start as soon as you have eaten a decent meal." So presently, when a simple feast was spread out in the ovenlike saloon, Commander Girardi, who was induced to eat a little, seemed to gather his wandering senses, with draughts of lukewarm wine which Fleming had brought with him from his private stock. Afterwards, when the latter, growing impatient, raised his glass aloft, saying, "To the honor of France," he lifted himself feebly. The lined face twitched as he answered, "I thank you for giving life back to my men, and the nation you have served will never forget." Then the goblet fell with a splinter of broken glass, and the stricken officer sank forward, choking.

"Benson," said Fleming, "the poor man is played out. You and Bad Dollar do your best for him, and afterwards you follow me on deck. "We're ready to begin now, Lieutenant." All night the Krooboys worked like fiends in the red light of the smoky lamps, for the Moslem storekeeper had served out to them sundry bottles of forbidden liquor, and some of the Senegalis tried to assist, flinging coal up from the bunk

ers and into the canoes which carried

it ashore. All night the thud of paddles echoed across the river, while the clatter of shovels and wild bursts of negro melody rose from the stranded ship. Blackened all over, dripping with sweat, Fleming encouraged the rest, working himself harder than any of them, and when morning came, under Marsaut's directions, with toil incredible, they carried two anchors out and dropped them into the bed of the river. Then, while the canoes carried everything movable ashore, he descended into the engine-room, and the clang and clink of hammers rose up through the skylights. Under the burning heat of noon and the midnight damp they labored on, while the dawn found Fleming stripped to the waist, sweat and coal dust streaming from him, as he toiled before the roaring furnaces. Now, nearly every Niger trader, whose highway is always a river, is at home among the engines of a small steamer; so, when the pressure gauges climbed towards the danger limit, panting and breathless he ascended to the deck.

Marsaut stood beside the little windlass forward, and a line of brawny Krooboys gripped the tackles which led to the cable of the second anchor, while, in reply to a questioning look, Fleming said:

"She'll blow up unless you start in the next five minutes. So you have got to heave her off before the boiler comes up through the deck; it's death or glory now. One piece of cloth each Krooboy if you pull harder than them winch."

Marsaut raised one hand and opened the valve, and with a rush of steam the windlass began to clank, hammered viciously and brought up again, while Fleming dropped back suddenly into the engine-room. With a wheeze of the big cylinders the propeller began to throb, and, after sundry tins of kerosene had been flung into the fur

naces, a sheet of yellow flame rushed from the funnel, while a jet of steam roared aloft from the escape pipe. Then, as grimier than ever the big man appeared again, the whole vessel shook and trembled to the thudding engine's stroke, and great sheets of mud and water were hurled up astern, while the smell that ascended with them was indescribable. An African river bottom is not a nice thing to stir up unadvisedly. Then Fleming howled to the Krooboys, and the Krooboys howled to him as they bent their backs to the rope, and the cable of the second anchor came in a little, for that mass of well-trained muscle was stronger than the leaking windlass.

"Fetch her home! Sing, oh, confound you, sing!" he cried, and with a shout down the gratings, "More steam, Benson, she's moving," he laid his hands on the rope. The stout hemp creaked and strained, drawing out to half its size, the tackle blocks were screaming, and link by link the cable came in, while above the groan of the windlass the roaring chorus of a Krooboy chanty rang far out across forest and river. Then the iron hull shivered, stirring in its sandy bed, the grind of the screw grew faster still, and there was more flame licking about the funnel. A bumping, scraping, sucking sound rose up from somewhere below, and a line of yelling Krooboys sat down with a bang, while all else was drowned in the mad rattle of the windlass as the little steamer slid off the shoal.

"Stop her before she runs over her anchors," Fleming shouted as, after crawling out from under a mass of greasy, black humanity, he scrambled towards the gratings, and the beat of the propeller slackened as she forged ahead into deeper water. Then a wild roar of triumph went up from every throat. Moslem Senegali and pagan Krooboy, friends for once, clawed each other, and Fleming, saying nothing

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