Henryk Sienkiewicz

During the three following days they continually traveled through the gorge and, as it so happened, always up hill. The days were unusually warm, the nights alternately cold and sultry. The rainy season was approaching; here and there milk-white clouds heavy with rain hung low down close to the horizon. Occasionally strips of rain could be seen, and far off was a rainbow. On the morning of the third day one of these clouds burst over their heads like a broken cask whose hoops had sprung and deluged them with warm rain, but as good luck would have it, it did not last long, and then the weather was fine once more, and they were able to continue their journey. Now birds appeared in such quantities that Stasch could shoot and bring down five of them without dismounting, which more than sufficed for one meal and also enough for Saba. Riding in the brisk air was not at all fatiguing, and a quantity of wild game and plenty of water removed all fear of hunger and thirst. They were getting along so well that Stasch was always good-natured, and while riding by the side of the girl he talked cheerfully with her, and even joked occasionally.

“Nell, do you know,” said he, as they halted for a short time under a big breadfruit tree, from which Kali and Mea cut off large melon-shaped fruits, “it sometimes seems to me as though I were a wandering knight.”

“And what is a wandering knight?” asked Nell, turning her pretty little face toward him:

“A long, long time ago, in the Middle Ages, there were such knights, who rode about the country looking for adventures. They fought with giants and dragons—and do you know each one had his lady, whom he protected and defended.”

“And am I such a lady?”

Stasch thought a moment and then answered:

“No; you are too young for that. Those ladies were grown up——”

And the idea never struck him that perhaps never had wandering knight ever served lady so faithfully as he had his little sister. He took everything that he had done for her as a matter of course.

But Nell felt hurt by his words, and screwing up her mouth into a pout, she said:

“You once told me in the desert that I acted like a big girl of thirteen. Ah!”

“Only once; but you are merely eight years old.”

“But in ten years I shall be eighteen.”

“Oh, that is a great while off, and then I shall be twenty-four, but at that age a man does not think about any lady, for he has something quite different to think of then; that is very evident.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“By that time I shall be an engineer or a mariner, or, if war were to break out in Poland, I should travel there, to fight as my father fought.”

Then she asked uneasily:

“But will you positively return to Port Said?”

“For the present we both must return there.”

“To our little papa,” sighed the girl.

And immediately her eyes were veiled by sadness and homesickness. As good luck would have it, a swarm of beautiful gray parrots, with pink heads and rose-colored down under their wings, flew toward them. The children immediately forgot what they had been talking about, and their eyes followed the flight of the birds.

The flock of parrots flew over a group of Euphorbia and came down upon a neighboring sycamore, through the branches of which could be heard voices that sounded like a chattering council, or a terrible quarrel.

“These are the parrots that learn to speak the most readily,” said Stasch. “As soon as we make a longer halt I will do my best to try to catch one for you.”

“Oh, Stasch, I thank you,” cried Nell joyfully. “I will call him ‘Daisy.’ ”

Mea and Kali, who meanwhile had been plucking the fruit from a breadfruit tree, now loaded up the horses with them, and the little caravan continued on its way.

In the afternoon it clouded over again, and several times there was a short shower that filled all the crevices in the ground with water. Kali prophesied a heavy storm, and it occurred to Stasch that in this case the gorge, which had become narrower and narrower, would not be a safe resting-place for the night, as it would most likely become the bed of the stream. So he decided to spend the night above the gorge, and Nell was delighted at this, especially when Kali, who had been sent out to reconnoiter, returned, announcing that not far from where they were was a forest of many kinds of trees, in which little monkeys were disporting themselves; but these monkeys were not ugly and vicious as those they had seen before. Therefore as soon as they struck a place where the walls of the cliff were low and not too steep they led the horses up, and when it was dark they prepared for night. Nell’s tent was put up in a somewhat higher and drier place underneath a large ant-hill, which completely barred the entrance from one side and strengthened the hedge that led toward it.

In the vicinity stood an enormous tree with wide-spreading branches and heavy foliage, which would shelter them sufficiently from the rain. In front of the hedge grew scattered groups of trees, and further off was a dense woods filled with underbrush, above which could be seen the tops of strange palms resembling giant fans spread out like the tail of a peacock.

Stasch learned from Kali that before the beginning of the second rainy season—that is in autumn—it is dangerous to spend the night under these palms, because the huge fruit ripens, breaks off when least expected, and falls from its great height with such force that it might kill a human being, or even a horse. But at the present time the fruit had not matured. Before the sun went down little monkeys could be seen in the distance scrambling and playfully chasing one another in the tree-tops.

Stasch and Kali collected a sufficient quantity of wood for the night, and as occasional heavy waves of hot air blew toward them, they fastened down the hedge with pegs, which the young negro whittled with Gebhr’s sword, and drove into the ground. This precaution was very necessary, for the strong wind might break and tear down the thorn branches out of which the hedge was made, and thus make it easy for wild animals to attack them.

Soon after the sun went down the wind stopped suddenly, but on the other hand the air had become heavy and sultry. In the spaces between the clouds stars appeared occasionally, but later complete darkness settled down, so that one could hardly see a foot in advance. The little wanderers grouped themselves around the fire and listened to the chatter and screams of the monkeys, which were making a perfect pandemonium. In the neighboring woods the howls of the jackals and other strange sounds—through which could be heard the restlessness and the fear of that which under the veil of darkness in the wilderness threatens every human being—united to form an appropriate accompaniment.

Suddenly the stillness became intense, and in the darkness the growl of a lion was heard.

The horses, which were grazing nearby in the short jungle grass, began to approach the light of the fire by hopping with their chained front feet, and even then the hair of Saba, who was usually so courageous, bristled, and he crouched in front of his master with his tail drawn down, obviously seeking protection. The growl sounded again, this time as if coming from the bowels of the earth; it was a deep, heavy, long-drawn sigh, as if the animal had let it out of its powerful lungs with difficulty. The sound rolled on glidingly close to the ground, sometimes louder, sometimes softer, then becoming a deep, hollow, unearthly sigh.

“Kali, put more wood on the fire,” cried Stasch.

The negro threw an armful of branches on the fire with such haste and force that at first nothing but sparks ascended; then the flame blazed forth.

“The lion will not attack us, will he, Stasch?” whispered Nell, pulling the boy by the sleeve.

“No, he will not attack us. Look how high the hedge is——”

As he said this he positively thought that they were in no danger, but still he was worried about the horses, which pressed nearer and nearer the hedge and threatened to tread it down.

Meanwhile the sighing changed into a long-drawn-out thundering roar, enough to terrify any human being, for even creatures who know no fear tremble from head to foot, shaking like panes of glass at the report of far-off cannon.

Stasch threw a hurried glance at Nell, and seeing her quivering mouth and moist eyes, he said:

“Don’t be frightened. Don’t cry.”

She answered under a great strain:

“I don’t want to cry, but my eyes perspire so—oh!”

The last scream escaped from her lips because at that moment a second roar, far more powerful and much nearer than the first, rang out from the forest. The horses began to push themselves still nearer the hedge, and if the long, steel-like prickles of the acacia branches had not hindered them they would have broken through. Saba growled and trembled like an ivy leaf, and Kali began to repeat in a broken voice:

“A second roar, far more powerful and much nearer than the first, rang out from the forest. The echoes filled the jungle, saturating the darkness with thunder and fear.”

“Sir! Two! Two! Two!”

As the lions were now responding to each other, they continued to roar, and this awful concert kept up for some time in the darkness, for as soon as one of the animals ceased the other began. Stasch was unable to distinguish from what direction their voices came, for the echoes repeated them over and over in the gorge and reverberated from cliff to cliff, sounded above and beneath, filled the forest and the jungle, saturating the darkness with thunder and with fear.

Only one thing seemed to the boy to be quite certain, and that was that the beasts were surely approaching. Kali also noticed that the lions were creeping round the bivouac, approaching in smaller circles, and he also noticed that, being kept from attacking them by the fire, they were expressing their displeasure and fear by emitting these dreadful sounds.

He also seemed to think that only the horses were in danger, for he said, as he counted on his fingers:

“The lions will kill one, two; not all, not all!”

“Throw wood on the fire,” repeated Stasch.

Again a bigger flame burst forth, and suddenly the roars ceased. But Kali raised his head and began to listen.

“What’s the matter?” asked Stasch.

“Rain——” answered the negro.

Now Stasch also pricked up his ears. The branches of the trees served as a roof for the tent, and also for the entire hedge, and therefore not a single drop fell to the ground, but it could be heard pattering on the leaves above them.

As there was not a breath of even the sultry air stirring, it was easy to conjecture that it was pouring in the thicket.

The sound increased moment by moment, and after a little while the children perceived drops descending from the leaves, drops of rain that looked like large rosy pearls in the firelight. As Kali had prophesied, a terrific storm had come up. The sound of the storm increased until it became a wild roar. Rain fell faster and faster, and at last great streams of water penetrated the thicket. The fire was going out. Kali threw on fagots to no effect. The wet branches only smoldered, the blackened wood beneath crackled, and after a feeble flicker the flames died away.

“Though the pelting rain drown the fire, the hedge will still protect us,” said Stasch to calm Nell.

Then he led the little girl within the tent and covered her with a shawl, after which he went out again at once, for he heard a short roar. This time it seemed much nearer, and in it there was a note of triumph.

Every second the storm increased. The raindrops pelted the foliage like shot. Had not the fire been protected by the branches it would have gone out at once, but soon there arose only heavy smoke, through which narrow blue flames shot up here and there. Kali thought that the fire was about out, and so did not throw any more fagots on it. Instead, he quickly swung a rope round the tree, and with its aid soon climbed higher and higher.

“What are you doing?” asked Stasch.

“Kali climbs up the tree.”

“Why?” he screamed, angry at the boy’s selfishness.

A vivid flash of lightning shot through the darkness, and Kali’s answer was drowned by a clap of thunder which shook the heavens and the wilderness. At the same time a hurricane broke forth that tore the branches off the trees and in a second swept over the place where the fire had been and carried away the glowing pieces of wood which remained under the ashes, and flung them, like fiery, sparkling sheafs, into the jungle.

The next moment an impenetrable darkness enveloped the camp. The terrible equatorial storm raged in the heavens and on the earth. Claps of thunder and flashes of lightning followed one another in rapid succession. The vivid forks of lightning tore wildly through the somberness of the black sky. On the nearby cliff a strange-looking blue ball was seen; for a time it rolled along the gorge, then flamed up into dazzling brilliancy, exploding with such a terrible report that it seemed as if the very rocks must be crushed to powder by the shock. Then, as before, perfect silence reigned.

Stasch was worried on Nell’s account, and he groped his way toward the tent, which was still standing, being protected by the ant-hill and the immense tree trunk; nevertheless the next gust of wind might be heavier and break the ropes and carry it away, heaven knows where. The storm abated at times, then increased, and rivers of rain and masses of broken twigs, branches, and foliage from the neighboring woods came thundering down.

Stasch was nearly at his wits’ end. He did not know whether he ought to leave Nell in the tent or take her out. In the first case she might become entangled in the ropes and be carried off with the tent-canvas; on the other hand, she stood a chance of getting thoroughly drenched and being carried away in addition, for even Stasch, though much stronger than she, was scarcely able to keep his own footing.

This desperate situation was at last solved by the whirlwind, which soon carried off the top of the tent, and now the canvas walls offered no further protection. There was nothing to do but to wait in the impenetrable darkness, surrounded by two lions, for the storm to abate.

Stasch thought that perhaps these animals had also sought shelter from the storm in the nearby forest, but he was quite sure that they would return after the rain had ceased, and the awful predicament was made worse by the fact that the hurricane had also demolished the hedge.

Everything threatened destruction. Stasch’s rifle was useless, and he had no scope for his energy. Face to face with the storm, the lightning, the tempest, the rain, the darkness, and the lions, he felt himself defenseless, helpless. The canvas walls, beaten by the hurricane, drenched them on all sides, so Stasch threw his arm around Nell and guided her outside the tent; then they both clung to the tree trunk and there waited either death or the merciful help of heaven.

But now suddenly between the blasts of wind came the voice of Kali, which could scarcely be heard above the pattering of the rain.

“Ah! ah! Up the tree! Up the tree!”

And immediately a wet rope let down from above touched the boy’s shoulder.

“Fasten Bibi to it. Kali will draw her up!” cried the negro again.

Stasch did not hesitate a minute. He rolled Nell up in the canvas, so that the rope could not cut her, bound it tightly round her body, lifted her up with outstretched arms, and cried, “Pull!”

There happened to be some low branches on the tree, so Nell’s journey through the air was not long. Kali soon caught her in his strong arms and deposited her between the tree trunk and an enormous branch, which was roomy enough for half a dozen more such tiny beings as she. No blast of wind could blow her down from the tree, and although the water ran down the tree in a stream, the trunk, which was more than ten feet thick, protected her at least from those sheets of water which the tempest drove obliquely toward them.

After the negro had brought the little “Bibi” to this place of safety, he let the rope down for Stasch, but he, like a captain who is the last to leave his sinking ship, ordered Mea to climb up before him.

Kali’s help was unnecessary, for she swung herself up in a minute with skill and agility, as though she were the sister of a chimpanzee. It was a more difficult feat for Stasch, but still he was sufficiently trained in gymnastics to overcome the weight of his own body, which was increased by the rifle and the cartridges, with which he had hastily filled his pockets.

In a short time they were all in the tree. Stasch had become so accustomed to think always of Nell first, that he now set about at once to see that she stood in no danger of falling off, ascertaining if she had room enough, and whether she could lie down comfortably. Satisfied in these respects, he began racking his brains as to how he could shelter her from the storm. But there was not much hope that he would be successful in this. To erect a small roof over their heads would have been easy work during the day, but now the darkness surrounding them was so intense that they could not even see each other. If the storm would only abate they could light a fire to dry Nell’s clothes.

Stasch was in despair, thinking that the child, who was drenched to the skin, would surely have her first attack of fever the following day. He was afraid that it might be cold in the early morning after the storm, as had been the case after the previous nights, though the blasts of wind and the rain during the other storms had been warm. Stasch was only surprised at its duration, for he knew that equatorial storms are the fiercer in proportion to their speed in passing. It was a long time before the thunder ceased and the wind calmed down a little, but even then it continued to rain, not so heavily as before, but still the raindrops were so heavy and dense that the foliage offered absolutely no shelter. From beneath them could be heard the roaring of waters, as if the whole jungle were converted into a sea. Stasch shuddered, thinking that they would surely be destroyed in the gorge. He also thought of what might have happened to Saba, and this made him very sad, but he did not dare to talk about the dog to Nell. He cherished a fond hope that the clever animal had found a safe refuge between the rocks that overhung the gorge. At any rate, it was impossible for him to help the dog.

And so they sat there close to one another, becoming wetter and wetter under the outspread branches, and waiting for dawn. After a few hours the air began to cool off and at last the rain stopped entirely. To all appearances the water now only flowed over the edge of the promontories down into the lower regions, for no splashing or hollow roaring could be heard.

On the previous day Stasch noticed that Kali had attempted to make a fire with wet branches and the idea suddenly struck him of ordering the negro to descend and try if he could do it again. But just as he turned toward him something happened which nearly froze the blood in the veins of all four.

A terrible, heartrending cry from the horses—a cry full of pain, surprise, and deadly fear—broke the silence of the night. Through the darkness were heard frightful sounds, then a short gurgling, followed by hollow sighs and groans, and at the very end a piercing, inexpressible sound, and then silence reigned.

“The lions! Lions kill horses!” whispered Kali.

There was something so terrible in this attack by night, in the violence of the elements, and in the sudden killing of the animals, that for a minute Stasch’s blood nearly froze in his veins and he never once thought of the rifle. But what good would it do to shoot in such darkness? At best the nocturnal marauders, frightened by the light and the report of the shots, would leave the dead horses, follow those who had wandered away from the camping place as far as their bound feet would permit, and would then run away.

At the thought of what really might have happened had they stayed below, Stasch began to shudder. Nell, clinging to him, trembled as if seized by her first attack of fever. However, the tree protected them from being attacked. Doubtless it was Kali who had saved their lives.

In spite of all, however, it was a terrible night, by far the most awful of the entire journey.

They crouched on the branches like drenched birds, and listened to what was going on below. For a while deep silence reigned, then again there were sounds denoting the tearing of large pieces of meat, the greedy smacking of lips, the gasping breath and the groans of the monsters.

The scent of raw meat and blood penetrated into the top of the tree, for the lions held their feast not further than twenty feet away from the hedge. They feasted so long that Stasch lost patience and became angry, and he took up the rifle and shot in the direction from which the noises came. A short, broken-off, angry roar was the only answer. Then once more was heard the cracking of the bones, which the animals of prey crunched between their enormous jaws. In the background the blue and red eyes of the hyenas and jackals glistened as they awaited their turn.

And so the endless hours of the night dragged on.