The Final Adversary (36 page)

As dawn broke over the village, the visitors emerged from their lodging. People were moving around, the women cooking and the men gathering in small groups, talking.

Bendi approached the missionaries with some more rice and a portion of meat. “Goat meat, very good!”

“Will you join us, Bendi?” Barney asked on impulse. “We have something you might like to try.”

Bendi shook his head, but Awful urged, “Come now, just have a bite!”

The boy looked hard at the item Barney had pulled from his pocket, then took it cautiously. “It’s candy,” Barney explained. “See if you like it. We will eat the food you’ve brought.”

They pretended not to notice Bendi as they ate and talked with one another instead of directly to the boy. Katie watched him put the candy in his mouth, taste it, and his eyes light up with surprise. It was hard candy and he ate the entire stick as he listened to their conversation.

“What?” Barney said in surprise. “All gone? I think I might have a bit more here somewhere.” He found another stick and gave it to him.

This time the boy stuck it in his mouth without hesitation, his face blissful.

Awful wasn’t hungry, so he pulled his old black Bible out, saying, “Well, let’s have a little Bible for breakfast, eh?” He read the story of David and Goliath, turning it into a rousing adventure that riveted the boy’s attention.

“So this giant, who wuz about as big as an elephant, and had a spear the size of a tree, come at David and said, ‘I’m goin’ to kill you and feed you to the vultures!’ But David, who wuzn’t much older, I guess, than—oh, than Bendi here—he said, ‘Goliath, my God is stronger than your gods. I’ve only got a little slingshot, but today God has given you into my hand!’ ”

Then Gardner acted out the fight. “And David ran right at that giant, and he took his sling and threw the rock—and it hit that old giant Goliath right between the eyes! Bam! Down he went, dead—and David took the giant’s own sword and cut off his head!”

Gardner saw the boy’s eyes widen in surprise. “David had a big God, didn’t he, Bendi?” Awful said.

Bendi stared in wonder. “This god of David, he is strong. What is he called?”

“He’s got many names, Bendi,” Gardner replied. “But the name I like best is
Jesus.
It means ‘one who saves.’ ”

The lad studied the old man carefully, thinking hard. Then he said, “I go now!”

Gardner watched the boy as he dashed away. “He’s thinkin’ it over, he is. It’s hard for these folks to give up their old gods.”

“It would be hard for Bendi if he became a Christian, wouldn’t it?” Katie said thoughtfully.

“Hard! I expect that father of his would feed him to the wolves!”

Time dragged on and after the third night, Awful said, “He’s tryin’ to wear us down!”

“Well, he’s doing a pretty good job!” Del complained. “We haven’t gotten even a glimpse of Bestman—and we can’t stay in this hole forever!”

However, just after midday the next day, the missionaries got their call. But it was not what they expected. They were sitting outside the hut when Chief Batoni strode through the village toward them, with Bendi at his side and a long spear in his hand. He marched straight up to them. “You come!”

Startled, Gardner asked, “Is it a meetin’ of the elders, Chief Batoni?”

The proud features of the chief did not change, but Katie thought she saw a sardonic light in his deep-set black eyes.

“Not meeting,” he said. Then he smiled slightly. “You come hunt lion with Batoni.”

The four missionaries could not have been more shocked if he had announced they were going to play chess!

“I tell about David and how he kill giant,” Bendi said.

Batoni nodded. “Bad lion, kill many my peoples. You come. We let you show us how strong your god is.” He stood there,
amused at their confusion, then demanded, “You come? Kill lion?”

Barney got to his feet. “We come, Chief Batoni.”

The chief fixed his gaze on Barney. “Pahn people no use rifle gun for lion. Use this.” He handed Barney the spear. “Come. You show Pahn people how strong is Jesus God.”

Surprise flickered in the chief’s eyes as Barney took up the challenge. “Let’s go find the bad lion. My God will slay him.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“Good-Night, Dear Boy!”

The long line of Pahn tribesmen marched through the forest. Barney had been fascinated by the initiation rites of the tribes, and none was more dramatic than the killing of a lion with just a spear. He knew that among the Masai tribes, only men who had performed this feat were permitted to wear the headdress made of the lion’s skin.

The lion was usually found in the plains, Barney knew, but part of the Pahn territory was dense jungle, and he had once seen a pride of them at a distance. What would he do at such a disadvantage? It was one thing to face a mighty foe with a rifle or a shotgun, as he had done successfully many times, but to fight a
lion
with a
spear
—that was different! Sometimes a full-grown lion weighed up to five hundred pounds, to say nothing of the razor-sharp claws and massive jaws that could crush the bones of a zebra as if they were dust. Barney envisioned those deadly weapons sinking into human flesh—his flesh!

He glanced down at the eight-foot spear in his hand. He understood that it was thrust into the chest as the beast charged, never thrown at him.

And
he
was supposed to kill it with a single thrust? Barney had heard that these tribesmen spent years developing the skill and strength just for the opportunity of killing a lion. He had practically no chance—in the natural, at least.

Batoni and his warriors kept a close watch on him, he saw.
Expect me to run like a rabbit,
he thought. He smiled grimly.
Which is exactly what I’d like to do!

By noon the country flattened out, the tall trees of the rain forest giving way to scrub brush.

“Halt!” Batoni called. He searched the horizon, then divided the men into small parties and waved them off, leaving the chief, his son, and Barney.

“Lion, him there!” Batoni stated, waving his spear toward a low-lying hill with a flattened top. “You go with us?”

Barney nodded. “I go.”

Batoni scrutinized the white man, amazed that the missionary would come this far. “You never use spear?” he asked.

“No. Only rifle, Chief.”

“Lion—bad! Strong and fast.”

Barney looked at the spear, then at Batoni. “Some of your finest men have been killed hunting lions, is that not so?”

“Plenty men killed. Lion strong!”

“We both know that if your men, who know how to hunt with a spear, have been killed, I don’t have much chance.”

“You go back?” Batoni demanded at once.

“No. I go with you to kill lion.”

Bendi was listening to the conversation closely. He had a spear of his own, and looked at the white man with keen interest.

Barney noted this and asked, “What about your son, Batoni?”

“Is his first hunt.” Batoni felt he had to explain, so he added, “My son watch his father kill lion. Learn how. Like I learn from my father.”

Barney smiled. “I didn’t learn from my father. Will you show me how?”

Batoni blinked his eyes, surprise registering in his face at Barney’s response. Unknown to Winslow, this chief respected little—except courage. He was a warrior, and the code of the hunt was pride. A man who could not hunt was no man in his sight! But he was in a bad position, for his prestige had
been damaged by the fact that despite the spells he and the witch doctors had made, the old missionary hadn’t died. And now, this young one was set to prove that his God was able to keep him from the lion’s jaws.

The chief was a savage man of war and led a wicked life, but he couldn’t help admiring the white man he had hated. He nodded. “You watch Batoni kill lion.”

“All right. I will watch the chief.”

Batoni nodded and moved across the ground noiselessly, which Barney could not do, no matter how hard he tried. The country looked flat, but it was very rough. The three had to scramble down into gullies, sometimes six feet deep, then claw their way up the other side. Barney kept up, and he saw that both father and son were surprised at the white man’s agility.

When they reached a long line of bushes, no more than three feet high, bordering the plain, Batoni stopped. A brook flowed beneath the weeds and across the dry plain. Even as they stood there, a herd of antelope lowered their heads to drink, and farther down a pack of wild dogs fought over the remains of a carcass.

“Lion—him hunt here!” Batoni whispered. “We wait—be still!”

The sweat collected in Barney’s helmet as the blazing sun beat down upon them. He held the spear tightly at first, but after a while his hand cramped and he was forced to loosen his grip.

The brook was a magnet, drawing all sorts of animals and birds. The sides of it were lined with white bones, no doubt victims of the lions’ jaws. Scanning the distance, Barney thought he saw a movement along the edges of the scrub, perhaps other hunters. He lowered his eyes to the brook again but was arrested by another stirring in the brush.

Batoni slowly raised his arm. “Lion!” he whispered.

At first Barney could see nothing. Then he saw her! The female lion was creeping out of the bush, moving stealthily,
freezing from time to time. Barney held his breath as he watched, mesmerized.

Batoni moved forward, his motion pure grace. Holding his spear lightly in his right hand, he crept toward the lioness. At once she turned, then broke into a charge. Over the ground she leapt, fast as a gazelle toward the enemy who lifted his spear with both hands and waited. Barney could see his face—alert, pleased, fearless.

The lioness flew through the air with great leaps, then rose, claws outstretched, straight toward the waiting Batoni! The chief drove his spear into the center of her throat and fell backward himself by the power of the animal’s lunge. Huge spurts of blood gushed from her neck, but she caught Batoni with one ripping motion of her claws even as she dropped to the ground, kicked and lay motionless.

It happened with such lightning speed that Barney had not moved, but a cry behind him made him freeze.

“Lion!” Bendi cried.

A huge lion raced across the plain. Barney could not believe his eyes. Batoni was struggling to his feet, but his leg was torn so badly that it gave way, sending him sprawling—right in the path of the charging beast!

Bendi raced toward the lion just as Barney went into motion. Gripping the spear, he sped toward the boy.
I can never make it!
screamed in his mind. Batoni shouted as he tried to get to his feet.

Barney lunged forward with strength he didn’t know he had. He saw the lion come to the end of his charge and launch himself at Bendi, who stood with his spear grasped with both hands. He drove the spear into the lion’s chest, but missed the center. The point ripped a gash that only infuriated the beast as he leaped toward the boy again.

Winslow’s vision narrowed to the lion and Bendi. The lion, thrown off by the spear wound, missed the boy with his full weight, but one slashing blow of his talons caught the lad in the shoulder, tossing him aside like a rag doll; and before
Bendi could recover, the lion was on him! The boy dug his hands into the lion’s cheeks, trying to evade the jaws from crushing him.

With a cry Barney hurled himself forward, screaming, “Jesus—help me!” He thrust the spear into the lion’s body with all his strength.

The spear lodged in the beast’s shoulder, and with a thunderous roar, the animal whirled, leaving Bendi on the ground, bloody but alive.

The lion bit at the spear and rolled over in pain, releasing the weapon. It had not been a deadly wound, but the pain enraged the lion. He bounded to his feet, saw the boy struggling, and once again lunged toward him.

At that moment Barney lost all sense of reason and launched himself at the lion, landing on his back. He whipped his right arm around the neck of the lion and grabbed the wrist with his left hand, simultaneously wrapping his legs about the body of the animal to a viselike grip.

But he was not prepared for the raging power of the lion! Great muscles hard as steel coiled as the lion thrashed wildly from side to side, trying to shake off his attacker. Barney felt the awesome power of the huge cat and knew that no man could ever match such strength! He put every ounce of power he had into his arms, knowing that if he let go, he would be torn to ribbons.

He had little hope, but he clutched the lion like death as the wounded beast clawed and roared, rolling on the ground with rage as he tried to get at the hunter. Then he reared, Barney’s weight as nothing, and threw himself over backward, almost crushing Barney. Somehow he held on as he cried again, “God! God! Help!”

Suddenly the lion coughed, a raw, hoarse sound, and staggered to his feet. Barney felt the deep chest swelling and knew that the loss of air was weakening the animal.

Over and over words penetrated Winslow’s mind:
Hang on! Hang on! Don’t let go! Don’t let go!

Then the animal’s hindquarters gave way and he sprawled on his side, choked to death. Still Barney clung like a leech, forcing every bit of strength he had left into his right arm.

Even as he felt something touch his face, he hung on.

“Lion dead,” a voice said.

Barney felt hands pulling him free. He could not see because of the blood running into his eyes from a deep cut a jagged rock had made as he landed beneath the lion. A hand wiped the blood away. It was Chief Batoni!

Barney tried to get up. His legs wouldn’t hold him. His arms were useless. “I can’t move my legs and arms!” he whispered.

“Do not move,” the chief said. “Lie still.” He had managed to hobble over to Barney and his word was a command.

“What about Bendi?”

“I am here.”

Barney turned to see Bendi squatting beside him. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Bendi’s shoulder was slashed with four long bloody gashes, plus other wounds, but he ignored them. “You kill without spear!” he whispered. “Your God is the real God!”