Argosy All-Story Weekly, July 1, 1922 — page 94: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

884 In spite of his exhaustion, or perhaps be- cause of it, his slumbers were broken, and sometime during the night his brain was visited by an extraordinarily vivid dream. There appeared before him the figure of an old, wiry, exceptionally ugly savage who was grotesquely attired. His head was adorned by a remarkable structure of beads and bright feathers, his loins were wrapped about with an ancient leopard skin consid- erably the worse for wear, and the balance of his raiment consisted of innumerable strings of shells and beads that hung from his neck. This apparition beckoned to the sleeper with a gesture of entreaty, and Rushton, in his dream, was seized with a conviction that it was vitally important for him to get up and follow whither the figure should lead. He strove desperately to rise from his bed, but he was held motionless by invisible bonds, whose nature he could not determine. The phantom appeared to watch his efforts patiently, and shook its head with disappointment when the young man failed to stir. a nod of understanding, raised its arms ‘above its head, and slowly ascended into the air until it vanished from sight. Fred stirred restlessly in his blankets, then sank into the grateful oblivion of dreamless sleep. He awakened to the cheerful bustle of breakfast preparations, and immediately sought M’Buli for a conference on their plans. He found the headman sitting alone at some little distance from the camp, his back against a tree and his legs stuck straight before him. He was lost in deep thought, and was taking no interest at all in the activities of his cook, a singular fact, indeed. Rushton, as he drew near, noticed with some uneasiness that the chief wore the expression ‘of one who has passed through a disagree- able experience. “ Are you sick, M’Buli?” he asked. The African shook his head, but without much conviction. “Me lib for see spirit,” he explained glumly. “ Big spirit who hab spik for you.” Rushton pondered this until he arrived at a doubtful conception of its meaning. “You saw a spirit who had a message for me?’’-he inquired. At last it seemed to give ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “Yes, massa. Him spirit of C’Wayo. C’Wayo Ngo.” “You’ve been dreaming, M’Buli,” de- clared Fred promptly. The chief accepted the diagnosis without enthusiasm. ‘“‘C’Wayo come for me,” he announced firmly. ‘‘ Me go far—far. Fast, like him big wind.” The words stirred a memory in Rushton’s mind, and of a sudden he came upon a sharp recollection of his own dream. De- spite his ample fund of ‘‘ common sense,” the coincidence gave him a queer, unpleas- ant feeling in the pit of his stomach. Was this more magic? He had come to Africa equipped with the innate hesitancy of the white race to accept as true anything that it cannot understand, and it was only lately that the dark mys- tery of the strange continent and its stran- ger peoples had begun to make any im- pression upon his mind. He had ridiculed a hundred curious stories, but their cumu- lative testimony had insensibly affected his imagination and swayed his belief in the soundness of his own judgment. His next question, and his willingness even to discuss such things with an ignorant native, were sound evidence that his armor of skepticism had been pierced and that his mind was now in the healthier state of being open to instruction. “Tell me, M’Buli, C’Wayo look like?” The headman entered upon a halting de- scription of the fetish man’s personal ap- pearance. Fred grew more and more un- comfortable as one detail after another coin- cided with the picture that he had in his what does this own brain, and he began to feel the unpleas- ant sensations of a little child listening to ghost stories in the dark. The spell of the uncanny was upon him, though he was not quite ready to surrender. ‘*'You’ve been dreaming,” he repeated stubbornly as the other ended his stammer- ing description. ‘‘ How could C’Wayo take you anywhere?” “No:savvy. Him make big juju.” “‘ Where do you think you went?” “To Bololo camp,” answered M’Buli positively. DOOK C©