Bertha Kircher found herself alone in a small hut to the palisade at the far end of the village street, and though she was neither bound nor guarded, she was assured by Usanga that she could not escape the village without running into almost certain death in the jungle, which the villagers assured them was infested by lions of great size and ferocity. "Be good to Usanga," he concluded, "and no harm will befall you. I will come again to see you after the others are asleep. Let us be friends."As the brute left her the girl's frame was racked by a con-vulsive shudder as she sank to the floor of the hut and cov-ered her face with her hands. She realized now why the women had not been left to guard her. It was the work of the cunning Usanga, but would not his woman suspect some-thing of his intentions? She was no fool and, further, being imbued with insane jealousy she was ever looking for some overt act upon the part of her ebon lord. Bertha Kircher felt that only she might save her and that she would save her if word could be but gotten to her. But how?
Left alone and away from the eyes of her captors for the first time since the previous night, the girl immediately took advantage of the opportunity to assure herself that the papers she had taken from the body of Hauptmann Fritz Schneider were still safely sewn inside one of her undergarments.
Alas! Of what value could they now ever be to her be-loved country? But habit and loyalty were so strong within her that she still clung to the determined hope of eventually delivering the little packet to her chief.
The natives seemed to have forgotten her existence -- no one came near the hut, not even to bring her food. She could hear them at the other end of the village laughing and yelling and knew that they were celebrating with food and native beer -- knowledge which only increased her apprehension. To be prisoner in a native village in the very heart of an unex-plored region of Central Africa -- the only white woman among a band of drunken Negroes! The very thought appalled her.
Yet there was a slight promise in the fact that she had so far been unmolested -- the promise that they might, indeed, have forgotten her and that soon they might become so hopelessly drunk as to be harmless.
Darkness had fallen and still no one came. The girl won-dered if she dared venture forth in search of Naratu, Usanga's woman, for Usanga might not forget that he had promised to return. No one was near as she stepped out of the hut and made her way toward the part of the village where the revelers were making merry about a fire. As she approached she saw the villagers and their guests squatting in a large circle about the blaze before which a half-dozen naked warriors leaped and bent and stamped in some grotesque dance. Pots of food and gourds of drink were being passed about among the audience. Dirty hands were plunged into the food pots and the captured portions devoured so greedily that one might have thought the entire community had been upon the point of starvation. The gourds they held to their lips until the beer ran down their chins and the vessels were wrested from them by greedy neighbors. The drink had now begun to take noticeable effect upon most of them, with the result that they were beginning to give themselves up to utter and licentious abandon.
As the girl came nearer, keeping in the shadow of the huts, looking for Naratu she was suddenly discovered by one upon the edge of the crowd -- a huge woman, who rose, shrieking, and came toward her. From her aspect the white girl thought that the woman meant literally to tear her to pieces. So ut-terly wanton and uncalled-for was the attack that it found the girl entirely unprepared, and what would have happened had not a warrior interfered may only be guessed. And then Usanga, noting the interruption, came lurching forward to question her.
"What do you want," he cried, "food and drink? Come with me!" and he threw an arm about her and dragged her toward the circle.
"No!" she cried, "I want Naratu. Where is Naratu?"This seemed to sober the black for a moment as though he had temporarily forgotten his better half. He cast quick, fear-ful glances about, and then, evidently assured that Naratu had noticed nothing, he ordered the warrior who was still holding the infuriated black woman from the white girl to take the latter back to her hut and to remain there on guard over her.
First appropriating a gourd of beer for himself the warrior motioned the girl to precede him, and thus guarded she re-turned to her hut, the fellow squatting down just outside the doorway, where he confined his attentions for some time to the gourd.
Bertha Kircher sat down at the far side of the hut awaiting she knew not what impending fate. She could not sleep so filled was her mind with wild schemes of escape though each new one must always be discarded as impractical. Half an hour after the warrior had returned her to her prison he rose and entered the hut, where he tried to engage in conversation with her. Groping across the interior he leaned his short spear against the wall and sat down beside her, and as he talked he edged closer and closer until at last he could reach out and touch her. Shrinking, she drew away.
"Do not touch me!" she cried. "I will tell Usanga if you do not leave me alone, and you know what he will do to you."The man only laughed drunkenly, and, reaching out his hand, grabbed her arm and dragged her toward him. She fought and cried aloud for Usanga and at the same instant the entrance to the hut was darkened by the form of a man.
"What is the matter?" shouted the newcomer in the deep tones that the girl recognized as belonging to the black ser-geant. He had come, but would she be any better off? She knew that she would not unless she could play upon Usanga's fear of his woman.
