As there was nothing else to be done Alan began to climb, shifting his feet along the plank edge and his hands along the rope, which creaked and stretched beneath their threefold weight.
It was a horrible journey, and in his imagination took at least an hour. Yet they accomplished it, for at last they found themselves huddled together but safe upon the further bank. The sweat pouring down from his head almost blinded Alan; a deadly nausea worked within him, sickly tremors shot up and down his spine; his brain swam. Yet he could hear Jeekie, in whom excitement always took the form of speech, saying loudly:
"Think that man no liar what say our great papas was monkeys. Never look down on monkey no more. Wake up, Major, those priests monkey-men too, for we all brothers, you know. Wait a bit, I stop their little game," and springing up with three or four cuts of the big curved knife, he severed the remaining rope just as their pursuers reached the further side of the chasm.
They shouted with rage as the long bridge swung back against the rock, the cut end of it falling into the torrent, and waved their spears threateningly. To this demonstration Jeekie replied with gestures of contempt such as are known to street Arabs. Then he looked at the Mungana, who lay upon the ground a melancholy and dilapidated spectacle, for the perspiration had washed lines of paint off his face and patches of dye from his hair, also his gorgeous robes were water- stained and his gem necklaces broken. Having studied him a while Jeekie kicked him meditatively till he got up, then asked him to set out the exact situation. The Mungana answered that they were safe for a while, since that torrent could only be crossed by the broken bridge and was too rapid to swim. The Asiki, he added, must go a long journey round through the city in order to come at them, though doubtless they would hunt them down in time.
Here Jeekie cut him short, since he knew all that country well and only wished to learn whether any more bridges had been built across the torrent since he was a boy.
"Now, Major," he said, "you get up and follow me, for I know every inch of ground, also by and by good short cut over mountains. You see Jeekie very clever boy, and when he herd sheep and goat he made note of everything and never forget nothing. He pull you out of this hole, never fear."
"Glad to hear it, I am sure," answered Alan as he rose. "But what's to become of the Mungana?"
"Don't know and don't care," said Jeekie; "no more good to us. Can go and see how Big Bonsa feel, if he like," and stretching out his big hand as though in a moment of abstraction, he removed the costly necklaces from their guide's neck and thrust them into the pouch he wore. Also he picked up the gilded linen mask which Alan had removed from his head and placed it in the same receptacle, remarking, that he "always taught that it wicked to waste anything when so many poor in the world."
Then they started, the Mungana following them. Jeekie paused and waved him off, but the poor wretch still came on, whereon Jeekie produced the big, crooked knife, Mungana's own knife.
"What are you going to do," said Alan, awaking to the situation.
"Cut off head of that cocktail man, Major, and so save him lot of trouble. Also we got no grub, and if we find any he want eat a lot.
Chop what do for two p'raps, make very short commons for three. Also he might play dirty trick, so much best dead."
"Nonsense," said Alan sternly; "let the poor devil come along if he likes. One good turn deserves another."
"Just so, Major; that hello-swello want cut our throats, so I want cut his--one good turn deserve another, as wise king say in Book, when he give half baby to woman what wouldn't have it. Well, so be, Major, specially as it no matter, for he not stop with us long."
"You mean that he will run away, Jeekie?"
"Oh! no, he not run away, he in too blue funk for that. But something run away with him, because he ought die to-morrow night. Oh! yes, you see, you see, and Jeekie hope that something not run away with you too, Major, because you ought be married at same time."
"Hope not, I am sure," answered Alan, and bethinking him of Big Bonsa wallowing and screaming on the water and bleeding out white blood, he shivered a little.
By this time, advancing at a trot, the Mungana running after them like a dog, they had entered the bush pierced with a few wandering paths.
Along these paths they sped for hour after hour, Jeekie leading them without a moment's hesitation. They met no man and heard nothing, except occasional weird sounds which Alan put down to wild beasts, but Jeekie and the Mungana said were produced by ghosts. Indeed it appeared that all this jungle was supposed to be haunted, and no Asiki would enter it at night, or unless he were very bold and protected by many charms, by day either. Therefore it was an excellent place for fugitives who sorely needed a good start.
At length the day began to dawn just as they reached the main road where it crossed the hills, whence on his journey thither Alan had his first view of Bonsa Town. Peering from the edge of the bush, they perceived a fire burning near the road and round it five or six men, who seemed to be asleep. Their first thought was to avoid them, but the Mungana, creeping up to Alan, for Jeekie he would not approach, whispered:
"Not Asiki, Ogula chief and slaves who left Bonsa Town yesterday."
They crept nearer the fire and saw that this was so. Then rejoicing exceedingly, they awoke the old chief, Fahni, who at first thought they must be spirits. But when he recognized Alan, he flung himself on his knees and kissed his hand, because to him he owed his liberty.
"No time for all that, Fahni," said Alan. "Give us food."
Now of this as it chanced there was plenty, since by the Asika's orders the slaves had been laden with as much as they could carry.
They ate of it ravenously, and while they ate, told Fahni something of the story of their escape. The old chief listened amazed, but like Jeekie asked Alan why he had not killed the Mungana, who would have killed him.
