Bindloss Harold
The League of the Leopard

"It will be remembered that I have suffered these torments for my master's sake," he said in a mixture of several tongues. "Still, once we land I will beat the life out of some of these dogs."

The craft traveled fast, for the off-shore breeze blew fresh abeam; and though at times it lashed the waters into foam, the helmsman daringly held on to the whole lugsail; and so at last, when the moon hung low in the west, and pearly streaks brightened over her starboard bow, a tall bluff loomed blackly through the haze ahead.

"Twin Point," said Gilby, shaking the spray from his jacket. "I have kept her well inshore for a purpose, but now we'll ease the sheet off. We should see the canoe once we round the head. The Minella can't be far off by this time, either."

Dane rose stiffly, but he could see little except the belts of thinning haze which dimmed the waters ahead. He could hear the thunder of breakers on the invisible foot of the cliff. The light was growing each moment, the breeze dying fast, and presently the damp lugsail slatted against the mast.

"Get out your paddles!" ordered Gilby.

The lugsail rustled down, the mast was lowered. Muscular black men perched themselves on the gunwales, and the paddles beat the water, while, when they had brought the head abeam, the mist rolled back, and the red track of the sunrise streaked the heaving sea. A low, black blur and a smear of smoke crawled athwart it; while nearer the shore, and seen only when the surf-boat climbed the long undulations, a dusky strip, with moving figures silhouetted against the radiant sea, lurched toward the approaching steamer.

"There he is!" Dane shouted. "Gilby, promise those boys anything if we overtake him! Pull up your tiller and swing her farther off-shore! If we pass out of hailing distance I shall miss the steamer."

"You are right; and that's the Minella," was the answer. "Still, if you wish to meet Mr. Rideau you had better let me arrange things for you. We can see him out there, but he won't see us under the high bluff as yet, and his boys don't seem to be killing themselves yonder. He'll expect us coming up from the southwest, and that is why I edged in along the shore. Besides, there's a nasty piece of stone lying off the False Point which, as the stream sets strong over it, it's wiser to keep well clear of."

Straining his eyes, Dane could see the surf on the Twin promontory some distance away; and while he watched it a long undulation outshore of it was rent asunder and a column of foam rushed aloft. It dissipated into filmy spray, and a dull roar reached the listeners faintly. The steep swell of the southern ocean breaks heavily along the coast.

"That's Sunk Reed," said Gilby. "A steam-boat went ashore there three years ago and smashed most of her bottom out in less than five minutes. Since then careful skippers coming round False Point haul out from shore. By the way the Minella's steering, it's not certain that either Rideau or ourselves will catch her. Paddle, you black devils, paddle!"

Dane fancied the boys were doing their utmost, but the progress they made appeared distressfully slow. The steamer was rising higher all the time, but thin haze still clung about the rocks, and the surf-boat probably remained unseen against the towering background. The canoe also was growing larger, and Dane could plainly see the sunken reef hurling clouds of spray aloft ahead of her, for the flood-tide joining the usual eastward current was setting strong across it. Presently a figure waving a white cotton cloth rose upright in the craft and the paddles whirled faster, but there was no answering hoot from the steamer's whistle.

"The Minella's deep, and her skipper wouldn't stop long for a Colonial Governor when he has a full cargo on board," explained Gilby. "It will be a tight fit to catch her; but we could head off Rideau, who doesn't see us yet. I don't think his boys, being strangers, know how far that reef runs out. Only the steeper seas break on the outer end of it."

"Head him off. Never mind the steamer," Dane said hoarsely.

The boys made further efforts. Foam lapped about the bows, the splash of paddles swelled into a resonant thudding, and Gilby pulled hard upon his helm.

"They see us at last!"

Dane stood upright, cheering on the paddlers, who broke into a gasping song, and both craft went flying across the swell; but as they edged outshore it became evident that Rideau must pass the reef closely to reach the steamer. Rolling heavily, she still came on, perhaps a mile away, with unslackened speed. The spouting on the reef drew nearer, and Dane's voice seemed to break up in his throat, for unless Rideau could clear it during the next few minutes the pursuers felt sure of him. Dane had no paddle, and there being nothing he could do, he stared forward, moistening his parched lips with his tongue. Quickening a trifle, the paddles flashed and fell, while the lurching hull leaped forward at every impetus; but it seemed to the anxious man that she was merely crawling over the flaming sea.

"We have him!" gasped Gilby, with exultation in his tone. "If he holds clear of the reef we have him safe! Hallo! Where is he going now? It's a very odd chance he shoots through between the seas."

Dane already had noticed that the outer end of the reef was marked only by a swirl of water when the smaller seas passed. As Gilby spoke, the canoe was turned straight toward it.

"What that man can do we can. Follow him!" Dane cried; but Gilby signaled to his crew, and they slackened their paddling. They were far from timid, but they had not lost their reason.

Twice the sea was rent apart ahead, and sheets of foam rushed up, while the sound of its impact on the reef rang in a deafening crash. Then the pursuit ended suddenly.

"Are they mad, or turning on him?" gasped Gilby.

A man flung in his paddle on board the craft ahead. The flash of a pistol followed, but no sound was audible through the thunder of the reef. Then a black form rose upright with paddle swung high, and a long sea rose between the pursuers and the canoe. When it passed, the frail craft floated bottom uppermost, and the reef hurled up a smother of foam close ahead. Already several black heads were spread out across the swell as the native crew swam for dear life to evade the danger.

Gilby's boys stopped paddling altogether.

"Go on! Rideau's clinging to the canoe!" shouted Dane.

Gilby looked at the whirling spray, and then at his comrade.

"It won't be in this world he'll answer for his offenses. She's drifting straight across the reef, and nothing at that distance could cheat it."

Dane struck the nearest negro.

"Go on! Why don't you paddle? Gilby, where that man goes I follow!"

The trader gripped him savagely by the arm.

"He has escaped you. Keep still or I'll fell you with the tiller. Are you mad? There, look yonder. That is the last of him."

Staring out of eyes that but imperfectly recorded their impressions, Dane saw the black hull of the canoe swing aloft on the crest of a sea which rolled majestically toward the hidden barrier. The wall of water broke up suddenly with a deafening roar, and a tremendous rush of foam hurled itself aloft. When it fell, there was no sign of the canoe.

"He has gone," said Gilby, in a curiously strained voice. "The niggers will get ashore all right. You couldn't drown a beach man. Rideau will be smashed out of recognition. Still, we'll paddle round to leeward and make certain. Appolyon, you try to signal them 'teamer."

When they slid round the other side of the barrier a shattered canoe rocked bottom-uppermost on the confused welter, but there was no sign of a human head; and when the blast of a whistle reached the searchers, the surf-boat's bow was toward the steamer.

"You had better go on with her and make an affidavit before the Commandant, if they'll land you," advised Gilby. "I'll send in a written statement and swear to it if they send a Commissioner. Meantime, we'll keep your boys at the factory; and, in case we might want their testimony, I'll take off Rideau's niggers too. Of course, we had no intention of drowning him, but the way he shot that poor black paddle-boy lessens one's regrets. Rideau was dangerous to his friends to the last."

Dane was ready to act upon any suggestion. Worn out, mentally and physically alike, he could not think connectedly; and when, climbing the lowered ladder, he was surrounded by a wondering group on the steamer's deck, he turned from them savagely.

"We are all curious," said the skipper. "What took place aboard the canoe – mutiny, murder, or an outbreak of insanity?"

"I can't tell you anything now; but if you will come ashore with me at the next French station, where I must make a declaration, you shall hear how the canoe was wrecked when I am able to tell it."

"That will do," acquiesced the skipper. "You certainly don't look fit for unnecessary talking now. Better turn in, and I'll send our doctor along to you."

Dane was glad to do so; but he had hardly flung himself down in his room before the doctor came in.

"I have been living under a constant strain during the last few months, and have had very little sleep for weeks," he said. "Give me something that will keep me from waking or thinking for twelve hours, if you have it."

The surgeon touched his wrist and laid a hand on his forehead.

"So one would suppose," he replied; "but if the scene we just witnessed was the climax of your adventures, I hardly think you will need a sleeping draught. Nature is addicted to providing her own remedy. If you'll take the dose I'll send you, you will probably wake up considerably better. It will not contain narcotics."

He went out, and Dane soon sank into deep, refreshing sleep.

CHAPTER XXV
THE HEART OF BONITA CASTRO

A puff of cool air streaming in through an open port roused the sleeper, and he became conscious of a restful lift and swing. The hammock boys, it seemed, had a good path beneath them and were traveling well. But the swing was longer than that of any hammock, and a steady vibration, which resembled no sound in the forest, recalled him to remembrance. He recognized that it was made by pounding engines. The air that fanned him was also fresh and invigorating, and Dane lay still again with a sense of vast relief. The time of strain was over, and now for a space at least he could rest. Dressing languidly, he went up on deck.

The ocean gleamed, a great sheet of rippling silver, under the moon. Clear stars burned above the mastheads, which swayed to and fro athwart them, while the splash of tumbling waters and the sting of flung-up spray seemed charged with healing. Lights shone in the smoking-room windows, through which laughter and a murmur of voices came out, but just then merriment would have jarred on Dane, and he leaned over the rails, baring his head to the breeze, and trying to realize what had happened to him. He felt that the shadow which had hung over him had melted while he slept, and escaping from its baleful darkness, which had obscured his mental vision, he had awakened sane. Then, though for the sake of one who slept on a lonely bluff beyond the Leopards' country, Dane did not regret what had been done, he shuddered, remembering the one grim purpose which had dominated him.

"We did not expect to see you yet," said the skipper, halting beside him with the doctor. "Of course, we have had only one topic of conversation."

"What is the general opinion?" Dane asked indifferently.

"My glass is an old one, but the mate has one of the latest inventions," the skipper answered. "He declares it was the white man who upset the canoe, and did it deliberately."

"I should like to see the mate," exclaimed Dane. "If he is right it would to some extent be a relief to me."

"I haven't quite relinquished my authority yet," the doctor interposed. "One might conclude it would be wise for you to give your mind a rest from that particular subject. A good many things happen in this country which it is well to forget; and there are signs that your load has been as heavy as you are fit to carry."

"It is good advice, if somewhat hard to profit by," said Dane; and the two men turned away. The skipper's words, however, had removed his last compunction. He had determined to deliver Rideau to justice, and not planned to drown him, but if his enemy had preferred to take his own life rather than stand a trial, the responsibility did not rest upon his pursuer.

Dane strolled forward out on to the reeling forecastle, and found the swift passage of the ship through the moonlit water soothing. Ahead there was neither reef nor shoal. She forged on, hurling aside each sea which barred her way, straight toward a safe haven through open water. It seemed a happy augury, and presently Dane retired tranquilly to sleep again.

Early the next morning the mate and the skipper went ashore with him at a cluster of white-washed buildings, over the largest of which the tricolor floated, and were courteously received by a little elderly officer. His secretary took down the statements made by the captain and mate, and when these had been sworn to, he quoted from a book before him as he turned to Dane.

"It sounds like a romance, but we have proof that Monsieur speaks the truth," he said. "He will return to Petit Mahu with an official who will examine the traders and the Indigene. Until his report is considered, Monsieur will not leave this colony. In touching the gold, the signature of this contract is undoubtedly that of Victor Rideau, and under the terms of it his share is forfeit. Thus, subject to certain fees, Monsieur retains possession. In regard to the position of the river he decides to say nothing? It is not convenient that more white men lose their lives in that country of the devil, or cause the bad understanding with the Indigene. We have not yet open it for exploitation. Our information describes it as barren, and without value, which Monsieur will, I think, not contradict."

Dane had little trouble with the authorities. A commendable absence of useless formalities characterized all their dealings with him, and in a very brief space he was free to leave the colony. His men had been paid much more than they bargained for, and it was with genuine regret that he took leave of the last of them; it was with difficulty that he dissuaded Monday from accompanying him to England. The few Kroos remaining at Mahu when he left paddled him off to his steamer; and looking back from her deck, he could see Amadu's tall figure on the beach. Redmond and Gilby came on board, and, dining there, celebrated the parting so thoroughly that several seamen were needed to assist them into their boat, while how any of the party ran the gauntlet of the surf was more than Dane knew. They were not men of much refinement and had their weaknesses, black and white alike; but he owed a good deal to the sturdy heathen, while the two of paler color, instead of turning aside from a distressed compatriot, had shown themselves ready to assist him with a warm-hearted recklessness not always to be found among those possessing a higher degree of culture.

Dane had one task still before him; and it was a hot afternoon when he called for the last time at Dom Pedro's factory. It seemed almost strange that everything should remain as he had last seen it – the little olive-faced gentleman lounging, cigarette in hand, against the veranda balustrade, and Bonita and her sleepy aunt lying in deep chairs in the shadow. In spite of the heat and sickness in that land, life goes smoothly at an African factory run by men of Latin race.

Dane was puzzled by something in Bonita's manner as she rose to meet him. She showed little pleasure, but rather suppressed anxiety, and looked past him toward the beach as though expecting somebody. Even Dom Pedro seemed shaken out of his usual serenity, the señora's eyes were open wide, and there was a silence after the opening courtesies.

"It is with the great satisfaction we see you safe," said Dom Pedro, though satisfaction was not what his voice most clearly expressed. "But you bring us news? Two of you go up yonder, and there is a third who follow. One only he comes back."

Dane guessed that the speaker's anxiety chiefly concerned the third who followed, and the implied question was the least difficult to answer.

"I have news," he said. "The man who followed us was no friend of yours, señorita?"

Bonita Castro's lips curled scornfully.

"No. I have little cause to be a friend of him."

"He will harass you no longer. He is dead," said Dane.

There was no pity, but rather pride and a still strained anxiety in the girl's eyes.

"It is as I told you, padre. The dog has failed in his treachery and the Señor Maxwell has kill him."

"No. He was drowned at sea."

"It was not the Señor Maxwell who kill him? And the man with the cross on his forehead?"

"No," said Dane. "Rideau was drowned while trying to avoid me. The man with the cross on his forehead is also dead. He twice attempted my comrade's life, and I shot him one night when he was crawling toward my tent."

Bonita bent her head in a curious formal salutation.

"Our felicitations, Don Ilton. And the Señor Maxwell?"

Her voice grew a little deeper with the last question, and there was a note in it which puzzled Dane, while she cast a swift glance toward the second surf-boat lurching in shore from the anchored steamer. The man hesitated before he answered.

"He also is dead, señorita. He was treacherously murdered in the forest beyond the Leopards' country."

Amid all the memories Dane carried with him from Africa there were only two which equaled in vividness that of the few following moments. The girl stifled a half-articulate cry, and a heavy silence succeeded. Dom Pedro grasped the rails hard with genuine consternation in his face; and there was horror in the señora's expression. Bonita stood stiffly upright, with lips turned suddenly bloodless and a look that astonished Dane in her dilated eyes. Beyond that space of shadow there was dazzling sunlight, and to emphasize the stillness on the veranda the hot air vibrated with the roar of the sea. The girl appeared to choke for breath. Understanding suddenly, Dane turned his eyes away. It was the señora who spoke first.

"All dead. Reina de los angeles – ave!" she murmured.

Dane, looking round again, saw that Bonita was mistress of herself. It was all clear now, and he admired as well as pitied her. Passionate, vindictive, wayward as she was, the blow had stirred within her the pride of her race, and it was with a queenly air she turned toward him.

"The señor will pardon us if we give him pain, but he will tell us all. Of Rideau's treachery, and – how his comrade fell."

Dane fancied that he was the only one in the party who had guessed the girl's secret; and he might not have done so but that sympathy quickened his perceptions, for he also had loved Carsluith Maxwell. He felt that it might be well for Bonita Castro if she heard everything, and he roused himself to do his fallen comrade justice. Thus the dead man moved an heroic figure through all the kaleidoscopic happenings. The rest, black and brown, were lay figures, himself a puppet obeying the leader's will; and, when the narrative concluded, Dane felt that if others now knew his comrade as he had known him he was satisfied. Remembering what he had seen he could, he fancied, read by the light of it what was passing in Bonita Castro's mind. At times she listened with quivering lips, then a moisture gathered in her eyes, which nevertheless glittered with a curious pride, and he thought her superb when at last, with a glance only, she thanked the bringer of the news.

"He was all caballero, as you say, a very gallant gentleman. I will pray for the sound rest of him," she said.

Dom Pedro moved uneasily.

"He was a man without principle this Rideau. With excuses to the señor, I would my books examine, and try to figure of how much he rob me," he said, and hurried away.

Bonita followed, and Dane was left with her sleepy aunt who presently astonished him. The señora, it appeared, was a lady of much keener perceptions than he had imagined; and he understood why she told him what had happened during Rideau's last visit to the factory. It was evident that Dane owed his life in a measure to her niece. When she concluded, the lady lapsed into a somnolent silence, which, if assumed, was tactful, leaving the man, who was glad of a respite from conversational effort, to digest the information.

Dom Pedro had cargo for the steamer, and it was late when Dane said good-by to Bonita on the moonlit veranda. It may have been due to the silvery light, but she seemed to have changed, and Dane shrank a little from meeting her. Bonita, however, spoke very quietly.

"I have a confession to make," she said. "You have done much for my father, and it is right that I tell you."

"Please don't, señorita," Dane interposed; but the girl checked him.

"You lost the Señor Maxwell's map here, and I, who found it, sold it Rideau. It was the infamy, but the price was tempting – and I knew one of you would kill him. You will try to forget the injury?"

"I think I know why you did it, and I do not blame you," said Dane. "I shall most clearly remember that, when I was sick, you saved my life for me, as I think you did again when you helped my comrade to forestall Rideau."

Bonita smiled a little.

"You are generous, but I would have it so. Then we are, as you say, the equal. I have been able to help you. You give me my liberty. You sail now for England, Don Ilton?"

"Yes," said Dane; and again Bonita Castro astonished him.

"She loves you?" she asked simply.

The question was startling, and the man answered stupidly.

"I hope so. I – I do not know."

For a moment the swift laughter rose to the girl's eyes, but died in its birth, and the movement of her hands that followed it stirred the man's pity.

"You do not know? I saw the picture, and it was for her you went up into the Leopards' country. You are a strange people, Don Ilton – and the Señor Maxwell, he was like you?"

Dane afterward remained uncertain why he spoke as he did, but the words framed themselves, as it were, without his volition.

"No," he said; "nobody could compare me with Maxwell. Nor do I think I have met many such as he; but when he was dying, he spoke much of you. He told me you had promised to help us, and that he could trust you. It was almost his last charge that I should tell you so."

Dane knew by her swift grateful glance that Bonita Castro blessed him for the speech. In impulsive southern fashion, she held out both hands to him.

"Vaya con Dios, and the good saints send you happiness! I think we neither of us forget what has happened here, Don Ilton."

The last words ended in something like a sob, and Dane, who could think of no fitting words to say, only crushed the little hot hands in his own and swung his hat low as he turned away. Dom Pedro walked to the surf-boat with him, but Dane scarcely heard what he said, for his thoughts were centered on the girl, who stood, a pathetic figure, gazing after him from the moonlit veranda.

The Krooboys were slow to reach the steamer, but Dane was the better pleased, for he hardly felt equal to facing the questions or the badinage of her passengers just then.