CHAPTER XXVI
A DOUBTFUL CLUE
PIET VAN DER WYCK had no difficulty in catching one of the masterless steeds while the Haussa secured the other. The animals seemed hardly distressed. They had been cantering along at an easy pace, and gave no indications of having been frightened. Bridle, saddle, and stirrups were in place; there was nothing to give a clue to what had befallen the riders.
"Perhaps," suggested Van der Wyck, "they dismounted and forgot to tether the animals."
"Hardly likely," demurred Colonel Narfield. "Although they are fairly raw hands with horses they know better than that. Desmond might, though; but Colin is too thoughtful and cautious. It may be that one of them was thrown and the other dismounted to go to his assistance. In that case the animals might stampede. We can dismiss the wild beast theory. Had a lion sprung upon the lads unawares the horses, even if they escaped, would have been terrified. Besides, there's no sign of an injury to either beast. Bring the horses along, Tenpenny Nail; they might be useful."
The search was resumed. At a slow pace the party rode under the trees, keeping a keen watch for broken undergrowth or any other sign that might lead to the unravelling of the mystery.
Once they halted, Van der Wyck and the Haussas dismounted to follow a well-defined spoor through the dense undergrowth. Here the ground was marshy, and it was easy to pick out the hoof marks of a large rhinoceros, but of human footprints not a sign was visible.
Baffled, and with their spirits falling rapidly, the searchers rode on until they came within sight of Sibenga Kraal.
The feast was still in progress when Colonel Narfield's party rode up. The villagers were gorging themselves on roasted elephant flesh washed down by copious draughts of native beer.
Those who were not torpid with excessive food and drink were strongly inclined to be quarrelsome. In their befuddled state these men were not likely to be of much use as trackers.
Very peremptorily Colonel Narfield called upon Logula to come to him. The chief had still sufficient sense to realise that the summons must be obeyed.
"Listen, Logula," said the Colonel. "When we left you after doing you great service by slaying the bull elephant and the two cow elephants there were two white men riding behind the bearers."
"Yes, Great One; that is so," agreed Logula. "One was the Little-Son-of-the-Great-One-that-wears-the-Charm."
Colonel Narfield did not attempt to deny the imputed relationship.
"The two white men are lost," he said. "There will be great reward paid to Logula, successor to Sibenga, if he or any of his people find them."
Logula eyed the Colonel curiously. "Hau!" he exclaimed. "What is amiss with the Magic of the Great One that he has to come to Logula and ask him to use _his_ magic? Truly it is strange. And as yet no witch-doctor dwells in Sibenga's Kraal. It was by the iron-tube-that-breathes-fire-and smoke belonging to the Great One that the wise witch-doctor was slain. Having destroyed his magic by a magic greater than his, how comes it that you seek my lesser charms to aid your greater magic?"
"I do not ask the aid of your sorcerers and witch-doctors, Logula," declared Herbert Narfield. "I want your skilled trackers, although judging by the evidence of my eyes and ears they are no better than oxen stricken with rinder-pest."
Logula followed the direction of the Colonel's glance and shrugged his massive shoulders. Then he pointed with his knobkerrie at two dazed-looking natives who were squatting with their eyes staring glazedly into the fire.
Although the chief made no sound, and the two men were not looking in his direction, both roused themselves and crawled to within a yard of the spot where Logula stood.
"Go!" he commanded. "Find the spoor of the White-Man-who-wears-the-Charm."
Colonel Narfield regarded the men disdainfully. He knew the capabilities of native trackers, but these fellows looked dissipated.
Nevertheless, when the pair started off with their heads well forward and their eyes fixed upon the ground he put spurs to his horse, at the same time giving vent to a strong ejaculation as the action sent a burning, shooting pain through his injured ankle.
His companions followed. Their horses had to be urged into a steady trot to keep pace with the bronzed human sleuth-hounds, who, without looking up to see where they were going, covered the ground at a good seven or eight miles an hour.
"I don't suppose the beggars will be of the slightest use," remarked Colonel Narfield to Van der Wyck. "There's one thing, we are at present following the lads' track. With luck we may find a spoor that we missed on our outward journey."
When at length the native trackers reached the place where the forest closed in upon the road they slowed down considerably. Bending close to the ground they were continually sniffing and lolling their tongues like dogs on the scent. From time to time they stopped, went down on their hands and knees, and smelt the sun-baked, dusty track.
Proceeding thus, they plunged into the gloom of the tunnel-like archway of foliage. In places it was so dark that Narfield had difficulty in distinguishing their bronzed figures from the sombre path.
For nearly half a mile through the avenue the natives continued their way. Not a word was spoken. Only the thud of horses' hoofs and the nasal noises of the two natives broke the tense silence.
Suddenly the trackers stopped, and stood erect, back to back. For nearly half a minute they remained immovable; then, crawling in ever-widening curves, they began to circle round their halting-place until the limit of their orbit brought them into contact with the undergrowth.
Apparently these tactics failed to produce the desired effect, for they began to retrace their spiral course until they arrived at the spot whence they had started.
Still on their knees they went, smelling and sniffing. One of the fellows stood up and seized the bridle of Colonel Narfield's horse, forcing the animal back for a few yards.
"All right, Tenpenny Nail," said the rider quietly as the Haussa was on the point of administering punishment to the apparently offensive native. "I want to give him a fair trial."
Whatever spoor they had been following, it was evident that the trackers were at a loss. Again they went through the spiral movements, paying great attention to the trees and undergrowth.
Presently one of the natives approached the Colonel.
"Great One!" he exclaimed. "My snake is good to me. To me much is revealed. Neither to the right hand nor to the left, neither in front nor behind, nor under the ground has the White-Man-that-wears-the-Charm and his brother gone. They went this way."
And he pointed immediately above his head.
Colonel Narfield and his companions followed the direction of the up-pointed finger. Twenty feet above their heads the foliage grew thick and even. Somewhere in that green ceiling branches met from the massive trees on either side of the darkened road.
It was obvious that the branches were so high from the ground that they could not possibly sweep a pair of horsemen from the saddle, and the idea that Colin and Desmond had climbed any of the trees was extremely improbable.
"Rubbish! Preposterous rot!" ejaculated the Colonel angrily. "Come on, Van der Wyck, we've wasted valuable time in following the antics of a pair of intoxicated niggers. We'll return home as fast as we can. I'll send McFrazer post haste to Nyaruma and get my friend Wynyard, the District Commissioner, to send reliable native trackers. These blighters are unholy frauds."
And signing to the natives to get out of the way, the Colonel urged his horse into a hand-gallop, his companions following his example.
But his physical powers were unequal to the demand of his moral strength and resolution; for upon arriving at Kilembonga he fell forward in his saddle in a swoon. Van der Wyck was only just in time to save him from a dangerous tumble.
So far the search for the missing lads had not only been unsuccessful, but other misfortunes had descended upon this little outpost of civilisation in the wilds of East Africa.