Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 81: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE JU-JU MAN. “They have headed for the Pallaballa Mountains, I suppose?” asked Rushton. “‘ Of course,” replied Holden, and M’Buli nodded assent. The black chief was not as concerned about the possible loss of his gold as might have been expected. He came of a race that is not easily worried, and moreover, in the course of an adventurous life, he had picked up one bit of practical philosophy that he now contributed in his broken Eng- lish. “Bad fella quarrel quick,” he said; “ good fella.a’ right.” “‘ There’s a lot in that,” admitted Holden thoughtfully. ‘I learned enough about these two ruffians in Mafadi to convince me that they’re strangers to the Congo, and the only way they could have got the Bololos to help them was by the promise of a big share in the booty. I believe M’Buli is right. We will get our innings when they start to divide the spoil.” The trader was deeply interested in Rushton’s account of the token that the chief had identified as belonging to C’Wayo. He knew the fetish doctor by reputation, and believed him to be a man of good char- acter and reasonably honest. “ He’s a bit of a mystery,” added Hold- en. ‘“ He has been in this neighborhood as long-as the oldest man can remember, but there is a tradition that he’s not a native of the Congo. He must be as old as the hills. I believe that most of the tribes about here are scared to death of him. If he is trail- ing the Bololos either for purposes of his own or out of gratitude to Celia, it is the one bright spot in the whole business. He may be cunning enough to find some means of helping her.” Cheered by this faint hope, Fred busied himself in preparations for immediate de- parture. M’Buli had signified his willing- ness to start his men at once on another night march, and the Batatekes were al- ready beginning to shoulder their loads of food and ammunition. “ We will find our way through the jun- gle by torches,” explained Helden after a talk with M’Buli. ‘‘ The chief says it only stretches a short distance, and then the trail runs through grass, where the moon 871 will give use plenty of light. You see, the Bololos have a clear twelve hours’ start of us, and we have no time to lose.” “I thought they were afraid of lions?” “They are,” answered Holden simply. “But M’Buli is brave enough to risk his life to help us, and his men will go any- where that he does.” ‘A bunch of good scouts!” cried Rush- ton heartily. A few minutes later they started, pro- ceeding at a walk through the difficult belt of jungle. Every fifth man carried a blaz- ing torch of some resinous wood, giving forth an aromatic smoke that was rather agreeable, and Rushton found an augury of success in the fact that they had been light- ed at the embers of the factory. It seemed to him that the very flames of the ruined building were leaping through the night in pursuit of the scoundrels that had caused its destruction. In an hour or two the trees began to thin out and give place to scrubby underbrush, and that in turn disappeared as the trail reached the grass country. Here the torches were extinguished, to the muttered accompaniment of incantations against lions, and M’Buli broke into a sharp trot. The walk through the forest had helped to stretch Rushton’s tired limbs, but for the first few miles he ran with clenched teeth until his sore and stiffened muscles had be- come limber. The reflection that they must be gaining on the Bololos did much to help him endure the pain, and he was sure they were gaining because M’Buli had pointed out that their enemy’s advance would be considerably retarded by the litter. The charms against the lions proved ef- fective, though once the awe-inspiring roar of a beast close at hand sent a shiver of fear through every man in the line. Holden and Rushton discharged their guns several times in the direction of the sound, and the lion evidently decided to think twice about attacking a party that could obviously at- tack back. The dawn came, and the sun rose before M’Buli lifted his spear as a signal to halt, and even the hardy blacks showed signs of fatigue. As for Holden and his young manager, they simply dropped in their comiclboooks C©