The blacks I had whistled and jigged before were, perhaps, the ugliest of all the aborigines I had met, which was saying a very great deal.The men were very short, averaging little more than five feet, with low foreheads and hideously repulsive features.Inoticed, however, that the animals they had for food seemed very much fatter than similar creatures farther north.One thing I was grateful to these people for was honey, which I urgently required for medicinal purposes.They were very sorry when we left them, and a small band of warriors accompanied us on our first day's march.We were then handed on from tribe to tribe, smoke signals being sent up to inform the next "nation" that friendly strangers were coming.
Nevertheless, I gradually became uneasy.We were evidently getting into a country where the greatest of our wonders could not save us from the hostility of the natives.We presently encountered another tribe, who not only at first refused to accept our friendly overtures, but even threatened to attack us before I had time to consider another plan.I tried the effect of my whistle, but even this failed in its effect; and to my alarm, before I could give them an exhibition of my acrobatic powers they had hurled one or two war spears, which whizzed by unpleasantly close to my head.
Without further ado, well knowing that vacillation meant death, Isent half-a-dozen arrows in succession amongst them, taking care, however, to aim very low, so as not unduly to injure my opponents.
The hostile blacks came to a sudden halt, as they found the mysterious spears flying round them, and then watching my opportunity, I dashed forward right among them, and turned over and over in a series of rapid and breathless somersaults.
I had conquered again.Do not blame the natives, for with them every stranger is an enemy until he has proved himself a friend.
Hence it is that when white men suddenly appear among these natives they run imminent risk of being promptly speared, unless they can make it quite clear that no harm is intended.
Bruno ran the same risk.Incident after incident of this kind happened almost daily, and although they involved some peril, yet they came as a welcome break when life on the march grew too monotonous.Deliberate treachery was very rare among the natives Icame across, but it was by no means altogether absent; and, notwithstanding all my knowledge, my wife and I were sometimes in serious danger of our lives.
One day we came upon a tribe as usual, and after the customary preliminaries were gone through they became apparently quite friendly.I was careful never unduly to exhibit my steel tomahawk, which I always kept in a kind of sheath or covering of opossum-skin, so that it might not arouse envy; a second motive for this was to prevent its chafing my body.I never used either stiletto or tomahawk unless absolutely necessary, reserving both for great emergencies.I knew they could never be replaced, so it behoved me jealously to guard such precious possessions.I never even used my stiletto at meal-times, nor even in cutting up animals for food, lest the blood should rust the blade and eat it away.Many times already had it come in useful at close quarters--notably in the case of the fight with the alligator and the killing of the cannibal chief who owned the white girls.
The chief of the tribe I am discussing saw me using my tomahawk one day, and eagerly asked me to make over the implement to him as a gift.I courteously told him that I could not do so.He seemed somewhat disappointed at my refusal, but did not appear to bear me any ill-feeling in consequence.The blacks, by the way, seldom cut down trees except for spears, and the reason for this is very curious.They imagine the tree to be a thing of life, and when they are forced to cut one down, quite a religious ceremony is held, and profuse apologies made to the tree for taking its life.
They never even take a strip of bark right round, knowing that this will kill the tree; they always leave a little bit of connecting bark.
As some reason for the refusal of my tomahawk was expected, I told the chief that it was part of my life--indeed, part of my very being, which was perfectly true.I also worked on the chief's superstitions, assuring him earnestly that if I parted with the weapon it would so anger the spirits as to bring about a terrible curse in the country.The tomahawk I declared was a direct gift to me from the Sun itself, so how could I part with it? I had thought of offering it, curses and all, but the risk of prompt acceptance was too great.
That night Yamba warned me that trouble was impending.For myself I never knew, and I suppose she read the signs among the men and got certain definite information from the women.We therefore slept some miles away from the encampment in a makeshift gunyah built of boughs, in front of which the usual fire was made.After we had retired to rest, Yamba woke me and said that she detected strange noises.I immediately sprang to my feet and looked all round our little shelter.It was much too dark for me to see anything distinctly, but I fancied I heard retreating footsteps.
