Chapter Seven

In front of them lay a great, beaten square which ended only at the wall. Frowning down upon this square, stood the tremendous gate, sighted dimly back on the beach. Up to the gate's sill rose a series of broad, stone steps; and halfway up the steps, on a rude dais covered with skins, knelt a young native girl. There could not have been found in any tribe many maidens as smoothly attractive as she, and the woven strands of flowers, which served as crown, girdle and necklace and her only apparel, increased her soft, frightened charm. On either side of the girl, some on the stairs, some in the square, the chanting natives swayed in ordered ranks. A little to one side, but dominating the scene by eye and gesture, a wizened, coal-black witch doctor pranced in a solemn ritualistic dance. Still farther to one side a veritable giant, magnificently costumed in furs, grass and feathers, watched with a kingly detachment. To the last one, men, women, children, witch doctor and king, all were so wrapped up in the ceremony that none noticed the newly arrived audience.

"Oh, Lord!" Denham whispered. "Make 'em hold it!" and he began to crank his camera.

"What's that old guy in the feathered dress doin'?" Jimmy asked under his breath.

Very close to the flower-dressed girl, the witch doctor began an oddly supplicating gyration. His hands, in slow, humble gestures, seemed to offer the maiden to a dozen huge dancers who leaped out of the chanting ranks; a terrifying dozen, whose heads were concealed by hollowed, furry skulls, and whose bodies were hidden by rough, black skins.

"Gorillas!" Englehorn murmured thoughtfully. "Those bucks are playing at being gorillas, or something like. They're acting out a ritual...."

He looked suddenly back at Ann, and then moved to put his lean figure squarely between her and the natives. Moved by a seemingly common impulse the Wanderer's whole crew jostled more closely together, until Ann had to push some of them aside, and stand on tiptoe. Even then she was well concealed.

As the gigantic apelike beings advanced, the witch doctor moved back and looked toward the king. It was, plainly, his majesty's time to enter the ceremony. What his part was, the watchers were not to know until long after, for as he shifted his position the corner of one eye took in Denham at the camera, and then the whole party of watchers.

"Bado!" he shouted and wheeled to face them. "Bado! Dama pati vego!"

The chanting, the dancing, all sound, all movement turned into a dead stony silence. In the midst of this Englehorn's placid, practical voice went forward to Denham.

"There's luck," he murmured. "I can understand his lingo. He's telling the old witch doctor to stop, to 'ware strangers."

All the natives had turned and were staring; and as though an order had come to them out of the silence the women and children began to slip away.

"Look!" Jimmy said. "Their women are clearing out. We'd better beat it or we'll be up to our necks in trouble."

He whirled around, to start for the beach, but Driscoll seized his arm.

"Good catch, Jack!" Denham called from his forward position as spearpoint of the party. "No use trying to hide now. Everybody stand fast. Put up a bold front."

The gigantic king, after a full stare, made up his mind. His great arm beckoned two warriors only a little smaller than himself, and so guarded he moved slowly forward. The last of the women and children vanished.

"Mr. Denham!" Jimmy cried. "What's the big bozo up to?"

"Shut up!" Denham answered, without taking his eyes off the king. "I don't know."

The chief took another slow, majestic stride.

"Jack!" whispered Ann. "Does it mean trouble when the women and children go away?"

"Trouble for those fellows if they start anything," Jack assured her and laughed briskly.

The chief continued to advance. Some of the sailors shifted their rifles, and their fingers sought the triggers. Denham, as though he had eyes in the back of his head, called a warning.

"Steady, boys! There's nothing to get nervous about!"

"And that's the truth," Jack told Ann cheerfully. "It's all bluff so far. The chief's waiting to see if we'll scare. It's all a game of bluff, and I'm betting on us."

The chief stopped a half dozen paces in front of Denham and waited.

"Come on, Skipper," the producer called. "If you can talk his lingo, make a friendly speech."

Englehorn started to move closer, but the chief flung up an arresting hand.

"Watu! Tama di? Tama di?"

"Greetings!" Englehorn replied slowly. "We are your friends. Bala! Bala! Friends! Friends!"

"Bali, reri!" the king shouted scornfully. "Tasko! Tasko!"

"What's he say, Skipper?" Denham asked out of a corner of his mouth.

"Says he wants no friends. Tells us to beat it!"

"Talk him out of it," Denham ordered. "Ask him what the ceremony is."

Englehorn spoke in placid, conciliating tones and pointed to the flower-dressed girl.

"Ani saba Kong!" said the king doubtfully; and from all the natives came a sighing, worshipful murmur. "Saba Kong!"

"He says the girl is the bride of Kong."

"Kong!" Denham cried exultantly. "Didn't I tell you?"

Before either king or interpreter could speak again, the witch doctor suddenly leaped forward, his headdress shaking, his eyes darting fury at both king and strangers.

"Dama si vego!" he screamed. His old, frail voice ran on like a discordant violin note. "Dama si vego. Punya. Punya bas!"

"What's up now?" Denham demanded.

"He says the ceremony's spoiled because we've seen it."

"Let me get at him," Denham said confidently. "What's the word for 'friend'?"

"Bala."

Denham squared his shoulders and spread out his hands, taking a smiling, conciliatory step.

"Bala!" he said. "Bala! Bala!" He pointed to himself and then to the king and the witch doctor. "Bala! Bala! Bala!"

The king hesitated but the old sorcerer had not the faintest doubt of his proper course. His frown was as deep as Denham's smile was wide. His hand beckoned the warriors up from the rear.

"Tasko!" he screamed. The king, taking his cue, roared, "Tasko!" The two guards beside him swung their spears up to a position of ready. The massed warriors behind began to surge forward.

Excitement overcoming fright, Ann balanced herself against Driscoll and rose high on her tiptoes to see. Her foaming, honey-colored hair caught the sun and the king's eye in the same instant. He ceased his shout as though his mouth had been clamped shut and stared, first at Ann and then at the witch doctor, as though for confirmation.

"Malem ma pakeno!" he stammered. "Sita!" He jerked his arm at the witch doctor. "Malem! Malem ma pakeno!"

The witch doctor, his cries also ceasing, stared too. The warriors stopped stock still and their weapon points fell.

"Now what?" Denham asked with a little gesture of relief.

"He said," Englehorn explained, "Look! The woman of gold!"

"Blondes are scarce around here," Denham chuckled.

The king's voice rose ecstatically, "Kong! Malem ma pakeno! Kong wa bisa! Kow bisa para Kong," and he turned to the witch doctor seeking agreement.

The old sorcerer nodded thoughtfully as Englehorn translated swiftly.

"The woman of gold. Kong's gift. A gift for Kong."

"Good Lord!" Denham protested.

The king and the witch doctor advanced upon Denham and the former thrust out his arm in regal command.

"Dama!" he said. "Tebo malem na hi!"

"Stranger! Sell the woman to us." Englehorn's translation followed like pistol cracks, and his eyes asked what Denham proposed to do.

"Dia malem!" the king hurried on.

"Six women!" Englehorn said swiftly. "He will give six for yours of gold."

Ann gasped and tried to smile.

"You got Ann into this, Denham!" Driscoll cried. "What's our cue?"

Denham smiled briefly, and with an unhurried gesture called up his two carriers.

"Tell him, as politely as you can," he said to Englehorn, "that we'd rather not swap." Out of a corner of his mouth he added, to Ann, "This isn't my trading day, sister."

"Tida!" Englehorn murmured to the king in sorrow-stricken tones. "No! Malem ati rota na ni! Our woman is our luck and we dare not part with her."

Against that refusal, bland though it had been, the witch doctor cried in fury. "Watu!" he screamed. "Tam bisa para Kong di wana ta!"

"They can't lose Kong's gift."

"That's enough for me," Driscoll growled, as Englehorn tossed back the swift interpretation, "I'm taking Ann back to the ship."

"We'd all better slide out," Englehorn warned Denham casually, "before that smart old witch doctor thinks to send out a war party to get between us and our boats."

"I suppose so!" Denham spoke reluctantly, with all the white explorer's confidence in his racial superiority. "But don't let's leave the old coot so mad, Skipper. Tell him we'll be back tomorrow to make friends and talk things over."

"Dulu!" Englehorn promised the chief and the witch doctor gently. And the promise made cover for the quick retreat of the men who bore the camera and the tripod. "Tomorrow! Hi tego nah! We return then."

"En Malem?" the chief insisted. "Malem ma pakeno?"

"The woman of gold?"

"Get going!" Denham ordered briskly to the crew. "And keep smiling, Ann. Don't you realize the chief's just paid you a whopping compliment? Six for one! Smile at Jack. And keep your chin up."

"Dula, bala!" Englehorn told the chief reassuringly. "Tomorrow, friend."

The retreat gathered speed; but not too much speed. There was no lagging, but on the other hand there was no undue haste. Only an expeditious, smiling withdrawal. A half dozen sailors led by Driscoll went first, with Ann in their center. Next the main body moved, rifles alert Englehorn followed these and Denham went last.

As a parting sign of friendship his hand tossed the witch doctor a debonair salute. The same hand cocked his hat over one eye, and as the hand dropped, to a holstered pistol, his lips puckered up to whistle a marching tune. While the natives' eyes widened in surprise he slid briskly around the corner of the house and out of the tribe's sight.

Following the narrow paths, among houses as silent and seemingly as uninhabited as had been encountered on the inward trek, the Wanderer's party came at length to the edge of the Village. Forward extended the almost treeless stretch of land running down to the beach and the boats.

"Don't tell me there wasn't nobody in them houses," Jimmy snorted, shifting his box of bombs to the other shoulder. "I heard a kid squall once. And boy! What a smack his mama handed him. I heard that, too."

Driscoll, with a half laugh of relief, let go the small hand he had held protectingly all along the march.

"Believe it or not," he said with a last backward glance, "nobody is following us. And if that isn't a surprise as unexpected as it was pleasant, I want to know."

Denham and Englehorn came trotting up.

"I hope," Ann laughed, half at them, and half at Driscoll, "that you all know me well enough to understand I'm no warlike, bragging Brunhilde. But just the same, I want to say I wouldn't have missed it for the mint."

She nodded emphatically, and with a broad pretense of pride began to fluff out the hair which had been so much admired.

Driscoll eyed her provoking mouth with an exasperation which did not conceal his admiration for her courage.

"You can be my next leading lady, too," Denham promised.

Englehorn cut himself a fresh chew and waved them all to the boats.

"Tomorrow," he said, "we'll break out the trade goods. I think, Mr. Denham, a few presents to that witch doctor ought to get us somewhere."