Killers Kraal | Page 5

fired a few shots into the air. And then those fellows jumped me from behind. My gun was knocked from my hand, and they were all around me. The next thing I remember is seeing you, and I thought--"
"They were Kalundas, I think," she interposed. "One of them left this behind him." She drew the knife from her waist band and handed it to him with an unflattering comment on the artist's ability to carve trees.
"They are not trees," he said, after turning the ivory handle in his hand for some time. "It is a very big canoe, perhaps big enough to hold all the warriors Ekoti could muster. And from these poles many dotis of cloth were hung so that when the wind was blowing it would move through the water. See, one of the men wears a crown, and this buck is called "unicorn" in the speech of my people.
And it tells us that this ivory was not carved by a Bantu craftsman. The knife is old, three times as old as I am, I think."
"Then the man must have traded for it at the coast," she said with quick comprehension," and it can tell us nothing about them."
"True," he agreed. Then he leaned toward her and asked: "What brought you here, so far from Ekoti's village, Sheena?"
She saw the tell-tale gleam in his eyes, and quickly stepped out of his reach. "I came," she told him coldly. "That is enough for you to know. And as I have said, you must go back to the coast."
"I like it here," he said.
The Jungle Queen was not used to defiance, and she sensed that there was much of that behind his slow smile, and a hint at something else, too. Doubtless, he was remembering the moment when she had yielded to his weakness--thinking, perhaps, that the weakness was hers, and that he could have his way with her again.
"There must be an end to this folly," she said angrily. "If you will not go willingly, then Ekoti will take you down river. I have spoken!" And with that, she left him.
Rick let her go without a word of protest. He was a wiser man than when he had first come up the Kwango, nearly eight months ago. And most of that time he'd spent searching the old records at Benguela in a vain attempt to lift the veil of mystery which shrouded this lovely girl whose intelligence was of the highest order, but whose knowledge of the world outside her jungles would scarcely equal that of a five-year-old white child. But, though his researches had yielded no clue as to Sheena's identity, he had uncovered much concerning the Abamas that had given him food for thought.
According to record, the Abamas had fled the terrors of Chaka's bloody rule nearly seventy years ago, and had trekked north under the leadership of Yamo Galagi. Unlike the Zulu, Dingaan, Moselekatse and other generals, this chief was accustomed to lead his impis in person, and his march along the higher reaches of the Zambesi had been an Odyssey of battles, privations and sudden changes of fortune. Nevertheless, he had finally succeeded in overcoming all opposition, and the capture of countless herds of cattle had enabled his people to resume their pastoral life on the lush veldt between the watershed of the Zambesi and the Congo.
Then, Yamo Galagi, a born leader of men and one of the strongest personalities in African history, turned his attention to the organization of his kingdom, and ultimately pushed its boundaries across the north-flowing tributaries of the Congo as far as the Cuanza.
His government had been despotic, ruthless and cruel, but strong and efficient. From his capital, Massumba, the Great Encampment, his caravans had worked their way down to the Portuguese port of Benguela. At the height of his power he had commanded no less than three thousand warriors armed with flint-lock muskets, and three times as many bowmen. Once he had visited the court of the Portuguese king at Lisbon; and, thereafter, the chronicles styled him, Dom Joao da Silva, Count of Lunda. But some obscure quarrel had brought the black nobleman to rebellion against his overlord. He swore that he would drive the Portuguese into the sea, and he might well have succeeded had not a bullet put an end to his bloody career before the wall of Sao Salvador.
Upon the death of its strong man the Lunda kingdom, essentially feudal in character, had quickly broken up into warring fractions. But Yamo Galagi had inaugurated a Golden Age, and the Bantu had not forgotten him. His name lived in tradition and fable. He was a truly admirable man, they said. A man So brave and of such infallible cruelty that a command beaten out on his great