Chapter 3

Uhha recalled that the river devil had complained that Khamis had not
brought him good food nor beer, but she said nothing about that,
although she realized that her father was far from being so high in the
good graces of the river devil as he seemed to think he was. Instead,
she took another tack.

“How can he escape,” she asked, “while the collar is about his neck—who
will remove it for him?”

“No one can remove it but Obebe, who carries in his pouch the bit of
brass that makes the collar open,” replied Khamis; “but the river devil
needs no help, for when the time comes that he wishes to be free he has
but to become a snake and crawl forth from the iron band about his neck.
Where are you going, Uhha?”

“I am going to visit the daughter of Obebe,” she called back over her
shoulder.

The chief’s daughter was grinding maize, as Uhha should have been doing.
She looked up and smiled as the daughter of the witch doctor approached.

“Make no noise, Uhha,” she cautioned, “for Obebe, my father, sleeps
within.” She nodded toward the hut. The visitor sat down and the two
girls chatted in low tones. They spoke of their ornaments, their
coiffures, of the young men of the village, and often, when they spoke
of these, they giggled. Their conversation was not unlike that which
might pass between two young girls of any race or clime. As they talked,
Uhha’s eyes often wandered toward the entrance to Obebe’s hut and many
times her brows were contracted in much deeper thought than their idle
passages warranted.

“Where,” she demanded suddenly, “is the armlet of copper wire that your
fathers brother gave you at the beginning of the last moon?”

Obebe’s daughter shrugged. “He took it back from me,” she replied, “and
give it to the sister of his youngest wife.”

Uhha appeared crestfallen. Could it be that she had coveted the copper
bracelet? Her eyes closely scrutinized the person of her friend. Her
brows almost met, so deeply was she thinking Suddenly her face
brightened.

“The necklace of many beads that your father took from the body of the
warrior captured for the last feast!” she exclaimed. “You have not lost
it?”

“No,” replied her friend. “It is in the house of my father. When I grind
maize it gets in my way and so I laid it aside.”

“May I see it?” asked Uhha. “I will fetch it.”

“No, you will awaken Obebe and he will be very angry,” said the chiefs
daughter.

“I will not awaken him,” replied Uhha, and started to crawl toward the
hut’s entrance.

Her friend tried to dissuade her. “I will fetch it as soon as baba has
awakened,” she told Uhha, but Uhha paid no attention to her and
presently was crawling cautiously into the interior of the hut. Once
within she waited silently until her eyes became accustomed to the dim
light. Against the opposite wall of the hut Obebe lay sprawled upon a
sleeping mat. He snored lustily. Uhha crept toward him. Her stealth was
the stealth of Sheeta the leopard. Her heart was beating like the
tom-tom when the dance is at its height. She feared that its noise and
her rapid breathing would awaken the old chief, of whom she was as
terrified as of the river devil; but Obebe snored on.

Uhha came close to him. Her eyes were accustomed now to the half-light
of the hut’s interior. At Obebe’s side and half beneath his body she saw
the chiefs pouch. Cautiously she reached forth a trembling hand and laid
hold upon it. She tried to draw it from beneath Obebe’s weight. The
sleeper stirred uneasily and Uhha drew back, terrified. Obebe changed
his position and Uhha thought that he had awakened. Had she not been
frozen with horror she would have rushed into headlong flight, but
fortunately for her she could not move, and presently she heard Obebe
resume his interrupted snoring; but her nerve was gone and she thought
now only of escaping from the hut without being detected. She cast a
last frightened glance at the chief to reassure herself that he still
slept. Her eyes fell upon the pouch. Obebe had turned away from it and
it now lay within her reach, free from the weight of his body.

She reached for it only to withdraw her hand suddenly. She turned away.
Her heart was in her mouth. She swayed dizzily and then she thought of
the river devil and of the possibilities for horrid death that lay
within his power. Once more she reached for the pouch and this time she
picked it up. Hurriedly opening it she examined the contents. The brass
key was there. She recognized it because it was the only thing the
purpose of which she was not familiar with. The collar, chain and key
had been taken from an Arab slave raider that Obebe had killed and eaten
and as some of the old men of Obebe’s village had worn similar bonds in
the past, there was no difficulty in adapting it to its intended purpose
when occasion demanded.

Uhha hastily closed the pouch and replaced it at Obebe’s side. Then,
clutching the key in a clammy palm, she crawled hurriedly toward the
doorway.

That night, after the cooking fires had died to embers and been covered
with earth and the people of Obebe had withdrawn into their huts,
Esteban Miranda heard a stealthy movement at the entrance to his kennel.
He listened intently. Someone was creeping into the interior—someone or
something.

“Who is it?” demanded the Spaniard in a voice that he tried hard to keep
from trembling.

“Hush!” responded the intruder in soft tones. “It is I, Uhha, the
daughter of Khamis the witch doctor. I have come to set you free that
you may know that you have a good friend in the village of Obebe and
will, therefore, not destroy us.”

Miranda smiled. His suggestion had borne fruit more quickly than he had
dared to hope, and evidently the girl had obeyed his injunction to keep
silent. In that matter he had reasoned wrongly, but of what moment that,
since his sole aim in life— freedom—was to be accomplished. He had
cautioned the girl to silence believing this the surest way to
disseminate the word he had wished spread through the village, where, he
was positive, it would have come to the ears of some one of the
superstitious savages with the means to free him now that the incentive
was furnished.

“And how are you going to free me?” demanded Miranda.

“See!” exclaimed Uhha. “I have brought the key to the collar about your
neck.”

“Good,” cried the Spaniard. “Where is it?”

Uhha crawled closer to the man and handed him the key. Then she would
have fled.

“Wait!” demanded the prisoner. “When I am free you must lead me forth
into the jungle. Whoever sets me free must do this if he would win the
favor of the river god.”

Uhha was afraid, but she did not dare refuse. Miranda fumbled with the
ancient lock for several minutes before it at last gave to the worn key
the girl had brought. Then he snapped the padlock again and carrying the
key with him crawled toward the entrance.