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The Adventures of Kathlyn

Page 191

Every village chief has his successor in hope. This individual was one

of those who had helped Umballa to carry the treasure from the cave; in

fact, the man who had guided him to the cave itself. He spoke to

Umballa. He said that he understood the holy one's plight; for to

these yet simple minded village folk Umballa was still the holy one.

Their religion was the same.

"Holy one," he said, "we can best your enemies who follow."

"How?" eagerly.

"Yonder is the chief's bullock cart. I myself will find the bullocks!"

"What then?"

"We shall be on the way south before the others land."

"An extra handful of gold for you! Get the oars out! Let us hurry!"

"More, holy one; these men will obey me."

"They shall be well paid."

Umballa had reached the point where he could not plan without

treachery. He proposed to carry the basket into the jungle somewhere,

bury it and make way with every man who knew the secret; then, at the

proper time, he would return for it with a brave caravan, his own men

or those whose loyalty he could repurchase.

The landing was made, the basket conveyed to the bullock cart, which

was emptied of its bait and leopard trap; the bullocks were brought out

and harnessed--all this activity before the fishing boats had covered

half the distance.

"I see light," murmured Umballa.

He tried to act coolly, but when he spoke his voice cracked and the

blood in his throat nigh suffocated him.

"Sand, holy one!"

"Well, what of sand?"

"You can dig and cover up things in sand and no one can possibly tell.

The sand tells nothing."

They drove the bullocks forward mercilessly till they came to what

Umballa considered a suitable spot. A pit was dug, but not before

Umballa had taken from the basket enough gold to set the men wild.

They were his. He smiled inwardly to think how easily they could have

had all of it! They were still honest.

The sand was smoothed down over the basket. It would not have been

possible for the human eye to discover the spot within a perfect range.

Umballa drove down a broken stick directly over where the basket lay.

He had beaten them; they would find nothing. Now to rid himself of

these simple fools who trusted him.

The man who longed to become the chief's successor was then played upon

by Umballa; to set the two factions at each other's throats; a perfect

elimination. Umballa advised him to rouse his friends, declare that

the white people had taken the gold away from the holy man, to whom it

belonged as agent.

Thus, in this peaceful fishermen's village began the old game of gold

and politics, for the two are inseparable. Umballa, in hiding, watched

the contest gleefully. He witnessed the rival approach his chief, saw

the angry gestures exchanged, and knew that dissension had begun. The

men of the village clustered about.

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