Drum Read Online Free PDF

out of sight, when they reached the river. It was not like the shallow, sandy-shoaled little stream which circled about Tamboura's village. That was hardly a river; during the dry season, the crocodiles had scarcely enough water to cover their backs. This was the big river, the one Tamboura had heard about but never expected to see. This was Africa's river of mystery, the mighty Niger, which flowed slowly down to the sea like a stream of viscous oil in a tunnel of verdigris.
    During the latter part of their day's journey, the whole aspect of the land had changed. It was no longer hot and sunburned, with dusty trails, parched grass, stunted tamarisk and thorn, but violently green, dark and miasmic. The trail changed from dust which rose like a cloud and settled on their bodies to oozy mud which spurted between their toes. The fierce blaze of the sun was lost, strained through a thick canopy of leaves overhead, and the hanging lianas were arm-thick, like immense snakes hanging straight down from the lofty trees. Only rarely did they see a splotch of sky and then it disappeared as something glimpsed briefly from the bottom of a well whose sides were damply green and unwholesome. The hot steamy stillness was oppressive; the eerie quietness was enhanced rather than disturbed by the chattering of parrots in the branches above and the humming of thousands of insects below. A sooty cloud of gnats and midges like the smoke of a campfire of green wood followed them, settling on their faces and bodies until their skin crawled with a fluttering, devouring life that bit into it, inflamed their eyelids, crawled deep inside their ears and nostrils and even into their mouths, so that when they swallowed, their spit was grained with insects. With their hands bound to the bamboo rings, they were helpless to do anything but walk on, on, on, forever in time to the metronomic

    beat of the drum which had now become a part of themselves.
    There were a few women in the rear of the caffle—all young, some pregnant and others carrying children in their arms. Whatever their condition, they were forced to keep up with the men, and when one woman, heavy with child, met her time along the road, the column halted only long enough for her to be cut out of the line. For a few moments she groveled in the slime, arching her swollen body with high-pitched moans until the knife of the flat-faced Akeem slashed at her throat and her spasms stopped. Again his knife slashed, this time at her belly and the child was laid bare. He nipped the cord with his teeth and handed the baby to a woman who was toting her own infant, relieving her of it and handing it to an unencumbered female. The mother reached for the newborn baby, examined its sex and when she found it was a boy, put it to her breast. The whole episode had taken only a short time. The caflle was retied, the corpse already thick with insects was abandoned, and they were on their way again.
    Ama-jallah had kept to his schedule. Now there were calls in the near distance, and the sound of water. The Arab rode on ahead, soon to return and whip the long line of the caffle into a quicker step. They were almost trotting when they arrived at a clearing by the side of the river where a sand spit ran out into the water. Black against the yellow sand were lined the canoes—the big wooden canoes that required twelve men to paddle each one. Tamboura could not count beyond the fingers of both hands but he could see that there were more canoes than he had fingers.
    Akeem and his helpers quickly untied the hands of the slaves from the bamboo hoops, which were then piled high , over a stake to await the return of Ama-jallah. After that the grass ropes were removed and they were free except for the rope which led from neck to neck. More food was awaiting them and this time it was not even put on a leaf. Instead they held out their cupped hands to receive it, and slobbered it into their mouths like animals. But more welcome