"The Fire-gods' thunder!" said M'WanÉ, in a kind of hushed whisper, with his lips parted and his eyes staring in the direction of the Hidden River.

It was obvious that the man was afraid. He belonged to a wild race that for centuries has roamed the jungle, catching fish in baskets at the waterfalls and setting traps in the forest. Until a few days before he had never seen a firearm in his life. He had heard tales of white men who were traders on the Coast, but he had never associated these with the Fire-gods who inhabited the Hidden Valley, whom he regarded as superhuman.

Crouch looked at Edward. "What do you make of it?" he asked.

Harden was frowning in the direction of the valley. His fingers tugged at the end of his moustache. He was a man of few words, as we know.

"Dynamite," said he.

"I think so, too," said Crouch. "I wonder what his game is!"

In their immediate neighbourhood was a narrow stretch of grass--the coarse, thin grass that is usually to be met with on the lower slopes of mountains. It was at this moment that Crouch's eye became fixed in the centre of this. He remained motionless for some seconds, and then on a sudden grasped Edward by the arm.

"There's a man there!" said he. "Look out!"

Simultaneously a black form sprang out of the grass and ran up the hill in the direction of the village. Crouch whipped round upon M'WanÉ and his Fans.

"After him!" he cried. "A reward if you catch him alive."

The four Fans set off as fast as they could go. The race lasted no longer than five minutes at the most. The fugitive seemed possessed of the agility of an antelope when startled from its midday slumber; he sprang over boulders, he dodged right and left like a snipe. But the Fans were fleeter of foot than he; at every stride they gained upon him, and in the end he was overtaken.

They brought him back to Crouch--a woeful, terrified object who had not the courage to lift his head. Crouch tried him with five languages, but he seemed not to understand, and only gave utterance to a few incoherent grunts. Then Crouch tried the "blood-bond," and this is not pleasant to describe. He took a knife from his pocket, opened a vein in his hand, and the native licked the wound. At that Crouch gave his knife to the man, who in turn inflicted a wound upon himself, and Crouch went through his part of the business with a heroism that Max was bound to admire. They were now "blood-brothers," and that is a bond which is inviolable in the region of the Congo. Crouch made the man understand him by means of signs, in the art of which he was a master.

"I have one heart," said he, by which he conveyed the fact that he was no traitor, that his word could be relied on. "I wish to speak with the people of your village."

The man, pointing in the direction of Makanda, wanted to know whether Crouch and his companions were allies of the Fire-gods.

"No," said Crouch. "We are come to make war upon the Fire-gods."

The man but half believed that. None the less, he agreed to take them to the village. They urged him to set forward without delay, since it had already grown dark.

It was past nightfall when they arrived at a narrow street of small, rounded huts, constructed of bamboo stems and palm leaves. Despite the fact that they came with one of the villagers, the majority of the inhabitants fled at their approach. This wild people were timid, shy as animals; also, as we shall see, they stood in a mortal fear of CÆsar and his Arabs.

As they approached the village, Crouch managed to gain the confidence of their captive. Where natives were concerned the little sea-captain had a way with him. The man promised that if they would wait till the morning he would persuade his friends to attend a palaver.

That night they had the village to themselves. The inhabitants--men, women and children--had disappeared into the valley, where they spent the night in fear and trembling. This is the common behaviour of many uncivilized peoples when, for the first time in their lives, they behold the indomitable white man. And these villagers had the greater reason to be fearful, since they associated the explorers with the Fire-gods.

Fortunately, they had fled in such haste that they had left most of their provisions in their huts. Crouch and his companions enjoyed a change of diet. That night they dined upon the flesh of a goat, which they resolved to pay for on the morrow, besides plantains and Indian corn.

They took turn and turn about to keep watch throughout the night, but there was no alarm. At daybreak they stationed themselves upon an eminence above the village, hoping that the inhabitants would summon up courage to return. Below them was the cultivated ground through which they had passed the previous evening. The greater part had been given over to the culture of ground-nuts; but there were also small patches of Indian corn and banana groves. The explorer who wishes to succeed with the untutored savage must possess his soul in patience by the hour. Crouch sat down and lit his pipe.

Shortly before midday, several dusky figures appeared from out of the jungle, and made their way to the plantation. There they remained in a body, frightened to come nearer; and by the aid of his field-glass, Max was able to make out the figure of Crouch's "blood-brother" who, gesticulating wildly, endeavoured to persuade his friends and relations to return.

Seeing that this was going to be a long business, Crouch suggested that they should walk down to the village and partake of food. Since their hosts were unwilling to entertain them, it only remained for them to help themselves. This they did with liberality, for they had the appetites of lions.

They were in the middle of their repast when they heard the sound of running feet and a great commotion. Looking up they beheld one of the women of the village running towards them well-nigh panic-stricken, and filling the air with screams. This woman rushed into a hut, and came out again with all her portable belongings.

By then the little street was crowded with old men, women and children, wringing their hands in desperation, and uttering such moans and supplications as were heartrending to listen to. It was remarkable that among the crowd there were not more than five young men at the most; the majority were women, and of the children there were few who were not three years of age.

Crouch looked about him, and caught sight of his "blood-brother," who was no less distracted than the rest. He laid hold of this fellow by the arm, and with great difficulty managed to discover what had happened.

The "blood-brother" had just persuaded his relatives to return to the village; he had explained, at last, to their satisfaction that the new white men were not the servants of the Fire-gods, when suddenly the Fire-gods themselves had been seen approaching up the valley. At that, the whole population had taken to their heels. They knew not where they were going, for it was the custom of the Fire-gods to come upon them from both sides at once, and if they tried to escape they were shot without mercy. The great Fire-god was there himself--the tall, white man with the black beard--and it was he whom they feared even more than the Arabs.

Crouch looked at Edward. There was a twinkle in his eye.

"There's going to be fun," said he.

"It will come to a fight," said Edward; "and I'm not sorry for that."

"I hope it won't," said Crouch. "There are many things we ought to find out before we come to blows. As far as I can understand from my worthy 'blood-brother,' CÆsar is coming here for palaver. They'll hold palaver in the street; and if we hide in a hut we ought to overhear what the advertisements in the newspapers call 'something to our advantage.'"

"I see," said Edward; "and if we're discovered, we fight."

"Exactly," said Crouch. "That's the idea."

It so happened that they had placed their "loads" in one of the huts where they would not be seen by CÆsar as he entered the village. It was all Crouch could do to explain to his "blood-brother" that they desired to hide, that the Fire-gods must not be told of their presence in the village. After a while, the man seemed to understand; but, indeed, he stood in such dread of the Portuguese that it was extremely doubtful whether he was wholly responsible for what he was saying.

Crowded together in one of the small huts the three Englishmen and the four Fans awaited the arrival of the Fire-gods. They were astonished at what they beheld--the abject consternation and alarm of the villagers, who now appeared a cowered and servile race. Never for one moment did it seem to occur to the few men among them to take up arms, in spite of the fact that the Pambala--to whom they were obviously related--are a warlike and courageous people.

The reason for their cowardice was obvious. They did not fear the Portuguese without a cause. They had learnt to their cost that CÆsar was a man to be dreaded.

Crouch made a little eye-hole in the wall of the hut, whence he obtained a good view of the street. It was through this that he caught sight of CÆsar and de Costa, the moment they entered the village.

It was CÆsar himself who led the way. He strolled forward, with his rifle under his arm, and his black eyes shooting in all directions, as if he were doing no more than taking an afternoon walk in a neighbourhood where there was much to be observed. He was followed by four Arabs, in robes of flowing white; and the last of these conducted a negro, of the same tribe as the villagers, who wore an iron collar round his neck which was made fast to a chain. The rear of the party was brought up by de Costa, slinking forward like some mongrel cur, fever-stricken and afraid.

The party halted in the village street, some little distance from the hut where the three Englishmen were hiding, but not so far away as to make it impossible for Crouch to overhear the conversation that ensued. The chained negro was brought forward by the Arab who had charge of him; and it was this man who acted as interpreter. CÆsar spoke to him in Portuguese, and he translated. Crouch made a mental note of every word, for he had a far better knowledge of the Portuguese language than the interpreter himself.

"As you know," said CÆsar, "it is my custom to state my business in a few words. I come here to give orders. I expect those orders to be obeyed."

He lifted his sombrero hat and mopped the perspiration from his forehead, for the afternoon was hot, and he walked up hill. The four Arabs stood around him--proud, arrogant, handsome men, upon whose features were stamped an unmitigated contempt for the simple savages who stood in awe before them. It was the headman of the village who answered, an old man, with a short, grey beard, who wore a helmet made of a monkey's skin, and surmounted by the green covert feathers of a parrot.

"The great Fire-god," said he, "has but to speak."

"Good," said CÆsar. "You know who I am. You know my power. You know that to disobey me is death."

The old man bowed his head.

"I trade in ivory," said CÆsar, "black ivory. You understand what I mean. Now, listen to my command. I desire twenty more slaves, of your youngest and most able-bodied men. They must be ready to return with me to Makanda before the setting of the sun."

At that the headman threw himself upon the ground.

"It is impossible!" he cried. "Only last moon the great Fire-god took away all the men of the village. No one remains but those who are old, and women and children. The Fire-god can see for himself."

"I do not choose to look," said CÆsar. "As I have said, it is my business to give orders. There is sickness in my camp, and many of my people have died, and more are dying every day. I require others to take their places. If you have no more men, I will take women and children. But I will require two women, or three boys over twelve and under sixteen years of age, for every man. You can please yourself as to which you give me. It is all the same to me."

"It is impossible!" repeated the native.

"Impossible or not," said the Portuguese, "I give you till sunset. If these people are not ready then, the consequence is on your own head. You know how I treated the villages on the other side of the mountain? Your fate will be the same. I will attack by night; I will set fire to every hut; and I will take every one of you to be my slaves."

"Mercy!" cried the native. But CÆsar turned upon his heel, and led the way from the village, followed by his Arabs, who smiled in heartless satisfaction.

Crouch gave time for CÆsar to be well away from the village. Then he crawled out of the hut, and seizing his "blood-brother" by the hand, swore that he would save them all.

At first, he quite failed to gain their confidence. They were convinced in their minds that the Fire-gods were greater than all men, as the strength of the elephant exceeds that of other beasts of the forest.

But Crouch would not take that for answer. He commanded them to light a fire, and they obeyed. When the flames were burning brightly he executed a war-dance round and round the fire. His antics were extraordinary to see.

They may have thought him mad; but at all events he gained his object: he drew them round him in a ring. They stood open-mouthed and open-eyed, amazed at his contortions. They were children of the minute. To all intents and purposes they had already forgotten the Portuguese and his threats.

Crouch sang, and never was there such singing. His voice was cracked and out of tune. It was all Max could do to prevent himself exploding into laughter. The words of Crouch's song had nothing to do with the matter; in point of fact they were concerned with "Nuts and May." For all that, he impressed the natives hugely. And when they had gathered closer he took the boot from his foot, and thrust his toes into the fire. And all the time he continued to sing of "Nuts and May," whilst the atmosphere was tainted with the pungent smell of burning cork.

The silence was so great that Edward Harden could hear the ticking of his watch. The villagers stood around, breathless and amazed. Then Crouch spoke to them; and the following was the argument he used.

He admitted that the slave-dealer was master over fire; hence he was called the "Fire-god." But he (Crouch) had proved to them that fire could not affect him. Near-by a pitcher of water was standing outside a hut, and into this he thrust his foot. There was a sizzling sound, and steam was given off. He made the natives place their hands into the water, to see for themselves that it was warm. He finished up by saying that, if they would put themselves under his command, he would show them how to face the Fire-god's anger.

With reluctance they agreed. In the space of a few minutes it was impossible for Crouch to efface the result of two long years of persecution. The headman of the village, Crouch's "blood-brother," and one or two others, came forward on behalf of their relations, their children and their wives. Crouch turned to Harden.

"Can we defend this place?" said he.

Edward had already thought of that.

"Yes," said he. "They can only advance by two paths. Elsewhere the slope is too steep. There is an hour before sunset. If you make these people build a wall of the small boulders which lie everywhere about, we should be able to keep the rascals at bay."

"I'll do my best," said Crouch. And thereupon he set to work.

It took the natives some time to understand his meaning; but when he had shown them what he wanted done they worked with a will, the women carrying enormous stones, and even the little children lending aid.

The parapet of stone grew like the walls of Rome, until, at last, it formed a semi-circle around the village, joining the mountain-side at either end. Then the women and children were placed under cover, and ordered not to move. Edward posted himself at the head of the path which led from the west, and Max on the other side of the village. At the feet of each was a box of ammunition. As for Crouch, he hobbled here and there on the charred stump of his foot, giving instructions up to the last minute, when, in the dying light of day, CÆsar and his Arabs were observed advancing up the valley.