Sanders was tied up at a "wooding," being on his way to collect taxes and administer justice to the folk who dwell on the lower Isisi River.
By the river-side the little steamer was moored2. There was a tiny bay here, and the swift currents of the river were broken to a gentle flow; none the less, he inspected the shore-ends of the wire hawsers3 before he crossed the narrow plank4 that led to the deck of the Zaire. The wood was stacked on the deck, ready for to-morrow's run. The new water-gauge had been put in by Yoka, the engineer, as he had ordered; the engines had been cleaned; and Sanders nodded approvingly. He stepped lightly over two or three sleeping forms curled up on the deck, and gained the shore. "Now I think I'll turn in," he muttered, and looked at his watch. It was nine o'clock. He stood for a moment on the crest5 of the steep bank, and stared back across the river. The night was black, but he saw the outlines of the forest on the other side. He saw the jewelled sky, and the pale reflection of stars in the water. Then he went to his tent, and leisurely6 got into his pyjamas7. He jerked two tabloids8 from a tiny bottle, swallowed them, drank a glass of water, and thrust his head through the tent opening. "Ho, Sokani!" he called, speaking in the vernacular12, "let the lo-koli sound!"
He went to bed.
He heard the rustle13 of men moving, the gurgles of laughter as his subtle joke was repeated, for the Cambul people have a keen sense of humour, and then the penetrating14 rattle15 of sticks on the native drum--a hollow tree-trunk. Fiercely it beat--furiously, breathlessly, with now and then a deeper note as the drummer, using all his art, sent the message of sleep to the camp.
In one wild crescendo16, the lo-koli ceased, and Sanders turned with a sigh of content and closed his eyes--he sat up suddenly. He must have dozed17; but he was wide awake now.
He listened, then slipped out of bed, pulling on his mosquito boots. Into the darkness of the night he stepped, and found N'Kema, the engineer, waiting.
"You heard, master?" said the native.
"I heard," said Sanders, with a puzzled face, "yet we are nowhere near a village."
He listened.
From the night came a hundred whispering noises, but above all these, unmistakable, the faint clatter18 of an answering drum. The white man frowned in his perplexity. "No village is nearer than the Bongindanga," he muttered, "not even a fishing village; the woods are deserted----"
The native held up a warning finger, and bent19 his head, listening. He was reading the message that the drum sent. Sanders waited; he knew the wonderful fact of this native telegraph, how it sent news through the trackless wilds. He could not understand it, no European could; but he had respect for its mystery.
"A white man is here," read the native; "he has the sickness."
"A white man!"
In the darkness Sanders' eyebrows20 rose incredulously.
"He is a foolish one," N'Kema read; "he sits in the Forest of Happy Thoughts, and will not move."
Sanders clicked his lips impatiently. "No white man would sit in the Forest of Happy Thoughts," he said, half to himself, "unless he were mad."
But the distant drum monotonously21 repeated the outrageous22 news. Here, indeed, in the heart of the loveliest glade23 in all Africa, encamped in the very centre of the Green Path of Death, was a white man, a sick white man--in the Forest of Happy Thoughts--a sick white man.
So the drum went on and on, till Sanders, rousing his own lo-koli man, sent an answer crashing along the river, and began to dress hurriedly.
In the forest lay a very sick man. He had chosen the site for the camp himself. It was in a clearing, near a little creek24 that wound between high elephant-grass to the river. Mainward chose it, just before the sickness came, because it was pretty. This was altogether an inadequate25 reason; but Mainward was a sentimentalist, and his life was a long record of choosing pretty camping places, irrespective of danger. "He was," said a newspaper, commenting on the crowning disaster which sent him a fugitive26 from justice to the wild lands of Africa, "over-burdened with imagination." Mainward was cursed with ill-timed confidence; this was one of the reasons he chose to linger in that deadly strip of land of the Ituri, which is clumsily named by the natives "The Lands-where-all-bad-thoughts-become-good-thoughts" and poetically27 adapted by explorers and daring traders as "The Forest of Happy Dreams." Over-confidence had generally been Mainward's undoing--over-confidence in the ability of his horses to win races; over-confidence in his own ability to secure money to hide his defalcations--he was a director in the Welshire County Bank once--over-confidence in securing the love of a woman, who, when the crash came, looked at him blankly and said she was sorry, but she had no idea he felt towards her like that----
Now Mainward lifted his aching head from the pillow and cursed aloud at the din1. He was endowed with the smattering of pigeon-English which a man may acquire from a three months' sojourn28 divided between Sierra Leone and Grand Bassam.
"Why for they make 'em cursed noise, eh?" he fretted29. "You plenty fool-man, Abiboo."
"Si, senor," agreed the Kano boy, calmly.
"Stop it, d'ye hear? stop it!" raved30 the man on the tumbled bed; "this noise is driving me mad--tell them to stop the drum."
The lo-koli stopped of its own accord, for the listeners in the sick man's camp had heard the faint answer from Sanders.
"Come here, Abiboo--I want some milk; open a fresh tin; and tell the cook I want some soup, too."
The servant left him muttering and tossing from side to side on the creaking camp bedstead. Mainward had many strange things to think about. It was strange how they all clamoured for immediate31 attention; strange how they elbowed and fought one another in their noisy claims to his notice. Of course, there was the bankruptcy32 and the discovery at the bank--it was very decent of that inspector33 fellow to clear out--and Ethel, and the horses, and--and----
The Valley of Happy Dreams! That would make a good story if Mainward could write; only, unfortunately, he could not write. He could sign things, sign his name "three months after date pay to the order of----" He could sign other people's names; he groaned34, and winced35 at the thought.
But here was a forest where bad thoughts became good, and, God knows, his mind was ill-furnished. He wanted peace and sleep and happiness--he greatly desired happiness. Now suppose "Fairy Lane" had won the Wokingham Stakes? It had not, of course (he winced again at the bad memory), but suppose it had? Suppose he could have found a friend who would have lent him 16,000, or even if Ethel----
"Master," said Abiboo's voice, "dem puck-a-puck, him lib for come."
"Eh, what's that?"
Mainward turned almost savagely36 on the man.
"Puck-a-puck--you hear'um?"
But the sick man could not hear the smack37 of the Zaire's stern wheel, as the little boat breasted the downward rush of the river--he was surprised to see that it was dawn, and grudgingly38 admitted to himself that he had slept. He closed his eyes again and had a strange dream. The principal figure was a small, tanned, clean-shaven man in a white helmet, who wore a dingy39 yellow overcoat over his pyjamas.
"How are you feeling?" said the stranger.
"Rotten bad," growled40 Mainward, "especially about Ethel; don't you think it was pretty low down of her to lead me on to believe she was awfully41 fond of me, and then at the last minute to chuck me?"
"Shocking," said the strange, white man gravely, "but put her out of your mind just now; she isn't worth troubling about. What do you say to this?"
He held up a small, greenish pellet between his forefinger42 and thumb, and Mainward laughed weakly.
"Oh, rot!" he chuckled43 faintly. "You're one of those Forest of Happy Dreams Johnnies; what's that? A love philtre?" He was hysterically44 amused at the witticism45.
Sanders nodded.
"Love or life, it's all one," he said, but apparently46 unamused. "Swallow it!"
Mainward giggled47 and obeyed.
"And now," said the stranger--this was six hours later--"the best thing you can do is to let my boys put you on my steamer and take you down river."
Mainward shook his head. He had awakened48 irritable49 and lamentably50 weak.
"My dear chap, it's awfully kind of you to have come--by the way, I suppose you are a doctor?"
Sanders shook his head.
"On the contrary, I am the Commissioner51 of this district," he said flippantly--"but you were saying----"
"I want to stay here--it's devilish pretty."
"Devilish is the very adjective I should have used--my dear man, this is the plague spot of the Congo; it's the home of every death-dealing fly and bug52 in Africa."
He waved his hand to the hidden vistas53 of fresh green glades54, of gorgeous creepers shown in the light of the camp fires.
"Look at the grass," he said; "it's homeland grass--that's the seductive part of it; I nearly camped here myself. Come, my friend, let me take you to my camp."
Mainward shook his head obstinately55.
"I'm obliged, but I'll stay here for a day or so. I want to try the supernatural effects of this pleasant place," he said with a weary smile. "I've got so many thoughts that need treatment."
"Look here," said Sanders roughly, "you know jolly well how this forest got its name; it is called Happy Dreams because it's impregnated with fever, and with every disease from beri-beri to sleeping sickness. You don't wake from the dreams you dream here. Man, I know this country, and you're a newcomer; you've trekked56 here because you wanted to get away from life and start all over again."
"I beg your pardon." Mainward's face flushed; and he spoke57 a little stiffly.
"Oh, I know all about you--didn't I tell you I was the Commissioner? I was in England when things were going rocky with you, and I've read the rest in the papers I get from time to time. But all that is nothing to me. I'm here to help you start fair. If you had wanted to commit suicide, why come to Africa to do it? Be sensible and shift your camp; I'll send my steamer back for your men. Will you come?"
"No," said Mainward sulkily. "I don't want to, I'm not keen; besides, I'm not fit to travel."
Here was an argument which Sanders could not answer. He was none too sure upon that point himself, and he hesitated before he spoke again.
"Very well," he said at length, "suppose you stay another day to give you a chance to pull yourself together. I'll come along to-morrow with a tip-top invalid58 chair for you--is it a bet?"
Mainward held out his shaking hand, and the ghost of a smile puckered59 the corners of his eyes. "It's a bet," he said.
He watched the Commissioner walk through the camp, speaking to one man after another in a strange tongue. A singular, masterful man this, thought Mainward. Would he have mastered Ethel? He watched the stranger with curious eyes, and noted60 how his own lazy devils of carriers jumped at his word.
"Good-night," said Sanders' voice; and Mainward looked up. "You must take another of these pellets, and to-morrow you'll be as fit as a donkey-engine. I've got to get back to my camp to-night, or I shall find half my stores stolen in the morning; but if you'd rather I stopped----"
"No, no," replied the other hastily. He wanted to be alone. He had lots of matters to settle with himself. There was the question of Ethel, for instance.
"You won't forget to take the tabloid9?"
"No. I say, I'm awfully obliged to you for coming. You've been a good white citizen."
Sanders smiled. "Don't talk nonsense!" he said good-humouredly. "This is all brotherly love. White to white, and kin11 to kin, don't you know? We're all alone here, and there isn't a man of our colour within five hundred miles. Good-night, and please take the tabloid----"
Mainward lay listening to the noise of departure. He thought he heard a little bell tingle61. That must be for the engines. Then he heard the puck-a-puck of the wheel--so that was how the steamer got its name.
Abiboo came with some milk. "You take um medicine, master?" he inquired.
"I take um," murmured Mainward; but the green tabloid was underneath62 his pillow.
Then there began to steal over him a curious sensation of content. He did not analyse it down to its first cause. He had had sufficient introspective exercise for one day. It came to him as a pleasant shock to realise that he was happy.
He opened his eyes and looked round.
His bed was laid in the open, and he drew aside the curtains of his net to get a better view.
A little man was walking briskly toward him along the velvet63 stretch of grass that sloped down from the glade, and Mainward whistled.
"Atty," he gasped64. "By all that's wonderful."
Atty, indeed, it was: the same wizened65 Atty as of yore; but no longer pulling the long face to which Mainward had been accustomed. The little man was in his white riding-breeches, his diminutive66 top-boots were splashed with mud, and on the crimson67 of his silk jacket there was evidence of a hard race. He touched his cap jerkily with his whip, and shifted the burden of the racing68 saddle he carried to the other arm.
"Why, Atty," said Mainward, with a smile, "what on earth are you doing here?"
"It's a short way to the jockey's room, sir," said the little man. "I've just weighed in. I thought the Fairy would do it, sir, and she did."
Mainward nodded wisely. "I knew she would, too," he said.
"Did she give you a smooth ride?"
The jockey grinned again. "She never does that," he said. "But she ran gamely enough. Coming up out of the Dip, she hung a little, but I showed her the whip, and she came on as straight as a die. I thought once the Stalk would beat us--I got shut in, but I pulled her round, and we were never in difficulties. I could have won by ten lengths," said Atty.
"You could have won by ten lengths," repeated Mainward in wonder. "Well, you've done me a good turn, Atty. This win will get me out of one of the biggest holes that ever a reckless man tumbled into--I shall not forget you, Atty."
"I'm sure you won't, sir," said the little jockey gratefully; "if you'll excuse me now, sir----"
Mainward nodded and watched him, as he moved quickly through the trees.
There were several people in the glade now, and Mainward looked down ruefully at his soiled duck suit. "What an ass10 I was to come like this," he muttered in his annoyance69. "I might have known that I should have met all these people."
There was one he did not wish to see; and as soon as he sighted Venn, with his shy eyes and his big nose, Mainward endeavoured to slip back out of observation. But Venn saw him, and came tumbling through the trees, with his big, flabby hand extended and his dull eyes aglow70.
"Hullo, hullo!" he grinned, "been looking for you."
Mainward muttered some inconsequent reply. "Rum place to find you, eh?" Venn removed his shining silk hat and mopped his brow with an awesome71 silk handkerchief.
"But look here, old feller--about that money?"
"Don't worry, my dear man," Mainward interposed easily. "I shall pay you now."
"That ain't what I mean," said the other impetuously; "a few hundred more or less does not count. But you wanted a big sum----"
"And you told me you'd see me----"
"I know, I know," Venn put in hastily; "but that was before Kaffirs started jumpin'. Old feller, you can have it!"
He said this with grotesque72 emphasis, standing73 with his legs wide apart, his hat perched on the back of his head, his plump hands dramatically outstretched: and Mainward laughed outright74.
"Sixteen thousand?" he asked.
"Or twenty," said the other impressively. "I want to show you----" Somebody called him, and with a hurried apology he went blundering up the green slope, stopping and turning back to indulge in a little dumb show illustrative of his confidence in Mainward and his willingness to oblige.
Mainward was laughing, a low, gurgling laugh of pure enjoyment75. Venn, of all people! Venn, with his accursed questions and talk of securities. Well! Well!
Then his merriment ceases, and he winced again, and his heart beat faster and faster, and a curious weakness came over him----
How splendidly cool she looked.
She walked in the clearing, a white, slim figure; he heard the swish of her skirt as she came through the long grass--white, with a green belt all encrusted with gold embroidery76. He took in every detail hungrily--the dangling77 gold ornaments78 that hung from her belt, the lace collar at her throat, the----
She did not hurry to him, that was not her way.
But in her eyes dawned a gradual tenderness--those dear eyes that dropped before his shyly.
"Ethel!" he whispered, and dared to take her hand.
"Aren't you wonderfully surprised?" she said.
"Ethel! Here!"
"I--I had to come."
She would not look at him, but he saw the pink in her cheek and heard the faltering79 voice with a wild hope. "I behaved so badly, dear--so very badly."
She hung her head.
"Dear! dear!" he muttered, and groped toward her like a blind man.
She was in his arms, crushed against his breast, the perfume of her presence in his brain.
"I had to come to you." Her hot cheek was against his. "I love you so."
"Me--love me? Do you mean it?" He was tremulous with happiness, and his voice broke--"Dearest."
Her face was upturned to his, her lips so near; he felt her heart beating as furiously as his own. He kissed her--her lips, her eyes, her dear hair----
"O, God, I'm happy!" she sobbed80, "so--so happy----"
* * * * *
Sanders sprang ashore81 just as the sun was rising, and came thoughtfully through the undergrowth to the camp. Abiboo, squatting82 by the curtained bed, did not rise. Sanders walked to the bed, pulled aside the mosquito netting, and bent over the man who lay there.
Then he drew the curtains again, lit his pipe slowly, and looked down at Abiboo.
"When did he die?" he asked.
"In the dark of the morning, master," said the man.
Sanders nodded slowly. "Why did you not send for me?"
For a moment the squatting figure made no reply, then he rose and stretched himself.
"Master," he said, speaking in Arabic--which is a language which allows of nice distinctions--"this man was happy; he walked in the Forest of Happy Thoughts; why should I call him back to a land where there was neither sunshine nor happiness, but only night and pain and sickness?"
"You're a philosopher," said Sanders irritably83.
"I am a follower84 of the Prophet," said Abiboo, the Kano boy; "and all things are according to God's wisdom."
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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hawsers
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| n.（供系船或下锚用的）缆索，锚链( hawser的名词复数 ) | |
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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tabloids
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| n.小报，通俗小报（版面通常比大报小一半，文章短，图片多，经常报道名人佚事）( tabloid的名词复数 )；药片 | |
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tabloid
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| adj.轰动性的，庸俗的；n.小报，文摘 | |
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ass
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kin
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vernacular
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| adj.地方的，用地方语写成的；n.白话；行话；本国语；动植物的俗名 | |
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rustle
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penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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rattle
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crescendo
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dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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clatter
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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monotonously
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outrageous
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glade
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creek
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inadequate
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fugitive
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poetically
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| adv.有诗意地，用韵文 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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raved
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| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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bankruptcy
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| n.破产；无偿付能力 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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savagely
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smack
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grudgingly
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dingy
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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awfully
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forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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witticism
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| n.谐语，妙语 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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lamentably
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| adv.哀伤地，拙劣地 | |
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commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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53
vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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glades
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| n.林中空地( glade的名词复数 ) | |
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obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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trekked
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| v.艰苦跋涉，徒步旅行( trek的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指在山中）远足，徒步旅行，游山玩水 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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puckered
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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wizened
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| adj.凋谢的；枯槁的 | |
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diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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68
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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awesome
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| adj.令人惊叹的，难得吓人的，很好的 | |
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72
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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80
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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82
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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