McClure's Magazine/Volume 34/Number 4/The Cannibal King

HE Twin Devils, having been banished by their elders from the ball field, for good and sufficient cause, came trudging down the lane to the school grounds, yelling the song at the top of their lungs.

It was quiet in the yard. Old Mose, the principal, was away in town, the tutors were out walking or off the grounds somewhere, and all the boys were up on the ball field on the hill, from which their distant yells were wafted faintly down on the intermittent spring breeze—all, that is, but the Twins and the King.

The Twins wheeled into the yard, still singing their song, and stopped below the windows of the King in the dormitory. The olive window-shades were all down, and there was no sign of life in the room. The Twins suspected it to be inhabited.

"Aw, come out here. King," howled the Microbes; "come on out. We won't hurt you. Come on out and tell us how you got converted."

No answer.

"Krash Koosha," the Chinee began, in a monotonous and grotesque voice, repeating the handbill which the King gave out before his church lectures. The other Twin joined in:

"Krash Koosha, the Heir of Zozoland, a real African Prince, brought from his jungle home by devoted American missionaries, will speak at the Congregational vestry Wednesday night, wishing to secure funds to help him complete his education and return to spread abroad the glad gospel light in his benighted land. He will show and explain the strange costumes, weapons, and utensils of his people. He will pray and sing 'From Greenland's Icy Mountains' in the Zozo tongue. He will tell how he was converted. Let all come and hear this worthy young man. Admission, fifteen cents; children five cents."

A long pause, but no movement in the curtained room.

"Aw, what's the use, Cannie?" yelled the Chinee. "Come on out, that's a good feller. We won't touch you, honest."

"Nor make fun of you, either."

Still no demonstration of life from the room. After successive volleys of gravel against the window, the Twins wearied of their amusement.

"He ain't there," said Pinkie. "Say, I'll play you a game of tennis for the sodas before supper-time."

"I'll go you," said the Chinee.

The two scampered away to the court. As they turned the corner of the building, the edge of the olive-green shade was lifted, and one big white eye showed peering furtively out. The King was inside.

The old Middleton School was a survival. There are hundreds similar to it in little forgotten corners of New England—the old academies, remnants of the old-time aristocratic education, being brought down to desolation and ruin by the rise of the great democratic school system.

But, after all, there was nothing just like old Middleton. Its distinction lay in the character of its boys. Strangers who drove down the road when the school-yard was in full cry stopped and watched and wondered. White boys and dark boys, big boys and small boys, seethed and yelled and galloped to and fro together in one indistinguishable, motley mass. Boys from all the corners of the earth came up to old Middleton—rich men's sons, with soft hands and hard hearts, under a contract to be managed; twice motherless children, whose fathers had married a second time; refugees of the great fitting schools, sent down for a personally conducted course in morals; hulking boys from the far West, where schools were poor or did not exist; swarthy, vicious, silent youths from Cuba and South America; and occasionally some waif picked up by missionaries in China or Africa, and sent to this fountain-head to drink in the rudiments of our great moral Western civilization.

In the midst of this herd of wild boys, the Cannibal King—a great, black, morose, raw-boned savage—stalked alone. He was a guaranteed African prince, taken in an excess of zeal by a returning missionary enthusiast. The African prince was much paraded at missionary gatherings, and soon began to give lectures on his own account. He was prospered in his work. In the eyes of the women of a score of sewing societies he was a heroic figure of almost Old Testament proportions.

At the other end of the line of boys were the Twins. The swarthy, thick-set, moon-faced Chinee was the son of a Texas cattleman; the pale, thin-legged, red-headed juvenile euphoniously called Pinkie was the son of a Michigan lumber dealer. Neither one could show an inch above five feet. These twain became soldered together at first sight, and converted immediately into a dual spirit of evil, known as the Twin Devils, which became the scourge of the country-side. The unhappy farmers came in droves to inquire when their course of education would come to a close.

The Cannibal King—named by themselves—became their legitimate prey.

The Twins were soon satiated with tennis. A close set terminated in favor of Pink, fortunately without recrimination or bloodshed. It was still a long time to supper.

"Say, Pink," said the Chinee, "I'll bet you money the heathen was in that room all the time."

"Well, what difference does it make if he was?"

"Oh, I'd just like to know. Come on up to the conning-tower. Pink. Let's see, anyhow."

The two started up the stairs of the dormitory.

"Easy, now, Pink, easy," said the Chinee, "or he'll get onto us."

They tiptoed into their room, in an agony of caution. The Chinee immediately threw himself on the floor and applied his eye to the conning-slit, which, in less technical language, consisted of a hole in the wall, executed with a high degree of workmanship by these accomplished youths. On the other side it opened through an unused register in the side wall into the King's room. The small aperture in the room of the Twins was carefully concealed by a flap of wall-paper.

The Chinee remained prostrate on the floor, as if paralyzed with what he was seeing. Suddenly he emerged from his contemplation.

"Look here. Pink, quick," he said.

"Oh, Lordy," said Pink, turning back immediately, "what's he doin'?"

He returned forthwith to his observations without waiting for a reply.

"What kind of a game's he playing?" he continued. "Oh, look at that—look at that! Say, Chine, he's gone starin', jumpin' crazy."

"Ain't he got something there?" said the Chinee.

"Yes, he has. What is it?"

"I couldn't make it out; can you?"

"No, I can't. He's right in front of it. Oh, say, now he's takin' it away. He's puttin' it up. Yes, sir, he's got it under the mattress in his bed."

After several minutes' absolute quiet. Pink carefully replaced the flap over the hole and rose, dusting his knees.

"Say," said the Chinee, "we'll come pretty near findin' out what that is."

A council of war ensued. It was decided to make a foray and secure the object during supper-time. The bell for this soon rang, and the manoeuver was executed with neatness and precision, by crawling over the transom of the King's door.

Even before the approach of the relentless study hour, the Twins were again established in their room, engaged in rapt contemplation of their trophy, laid out on the study table before them. It was a strangely carved piece of dull black wood set round with gaudy parrot feathers.

"What do you call it?" said the Chinee.

"I dunno. What do you guess?"

"Well, it might be one of those things you carry round for good luck—like a rabbit's foot."

"Yes; or like that leather thing you see Catholic fellers wearin' round their necks when they're in swimmin'."

"That's it; it's something like that," said the Chinee.

They proceeded to divide the spoil, cutting it into equal parts to the nicety of a hair. Then, putting out their light, they applied themselves to observation, hoping to be able to see the exact moment when the King should discover his loss.

"I'll bet it'll be exciting when he does," said Pink.

"When he finds that's gone," said the Chinee impressively, "he'll just begin to live."

The Twins were at last compelled to go to bed unsatisfied. The King noticed nothing that evening. But their excitement was not long delayed. In the early morning, before the dawn was yet very distinct, they were awakened suddenly by a strange noise.

"What is it?" whispered Pink.

The Chinee was already out of bed, on the floor.

"Come here," he said, beckoning energetically; "he's found it."

"Look at there," he continued with pride.

"Oh, Lord," said Pink, looking, "ain't he just doing things? Ain't he, though? And ain't he stacked up that room some? There ain't a thing left standin' in it, is there? Oh, look at him now. Look at him roll his eyes and wave his arms round and talk to himself. Wouldn't that give you the shivers?"

"Ain't it great?" said the Chinee appreciatively.

The Twins feasted on their victim's alternate periods of paroxysm and quiet until the breakfast hour. When they arrived at the meal, the King was already there, more silent and morose and dignified than ever.

The two conspirators held conferences all day, and a long one after hours in the afternoon.

"Say, Chine," suggested Pink, "that thing must be pretty important to him, mustn't it?"

"Yeh."

"Well, say, what are you goin' to do with your half—bury it?"

"You can if you want to; I'm goin' to wear mine under my clothes," said the Chinee, indicating its present location on his person.

"Well, then, I suppose I'll have to." said Pink, rather reluctantly; "but supposin' he caught you with it?"

"Oh, what could he do, if he did? You make me tired."

The conference proceeded to plans for the future.

"We've only just begun with him," announced the Chinee.

"What's it goin' to be now?" asked Pink.

"Oh, I dunno, but we can stir him up some way."

"That's right; there's more'n one way to do it, I s'pose."

"There was a feller I knew once," said the Chinee reminiscently, "told me this story: Once when his folks was away, they had a hired girl he didn't like—one of these ugly things that was never decent to him. So he swore he'd get even with her.

"So they had one of these speakin' tubes in her room, which they hadn't ever used. And the girl hadn't been over a great while, so she didn't know anything about 'em.

"So the first night, after she'd gone to bed, he sneaks downstairs and he goes up to the speakin' tube, and groans, and hollers:

just like that.

"Well, he was goin' to keep on the next night countin' three, and the next night two [sic]—like that. Only the second night she went looney. Yes, sir, she went wanderin' around her room all night. Then they had to take her to an asylum."

"Seems kind o' hard on the girl," ventured Pink.

"Oh, I dunno," said the carnivorous Chinee. "I'd 'a' done it, if any girl treated me the way she did him."

"Well, what I was goin' to say was," continued the Chinee, "why can't we work the tick-tack that way on the old King's window? Of course, you couldn't say anything, but he'd catch on. You can get a good deal of expression with a tick-tack, if you work it right. You take it one—two—three—four—like that—just like tollin' a bell."

The King being away that afternoon, the tick-tack was easily established. It worked that night beyond belief. The Twins retired to bed highly gratified.

"Say, we've struck it rich," said the Chinee proudly. "I'll bet you there ain't many fellers of our age ever saw anything like that in a civilized country like this before."

"That's so," said Pink. "Only I hope he won't catch us at it," he add

The next day at noon recess the Twins returned to their room for recitation. The place presented a most unusual scene of disorder.

"Say, who's been pawin' over my clothes?" said the Chinee belligerently. "You?"

"No, I ain't, but somebody has, and mine, too."

"Well, I'd like to catch the feller that did," said the Chinee. "I'd kill him."

Stacking a room was no unusual affair; it had passed out of the minds of the Twins by night.

At the first available moment in the evening the operations with the tick-tack were resumed. Pink was in command. Suddenly the string gave way and came back loosely into his hand.

"Say, look at that, Chine," he said quickly.

"How'd that happen?" said the Chinee.

"It just broke away in my hand. Say, you don't s'pose he's had a tick-tack worked on him before?" whispered Pink.

The Chinee was already on his stomach before the hole.

"There ain't any light in there," he said. "It's black as your hat."

"He was in there just a minute ago, wasn't he?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Well, that's funny, ain't it?"

"I guess he's gone down to see Mose," said the Chinee finally, "and the tick-tack just wore off on the comer there."

"Well, by jiminy, Chine," said Pink, "I'm glad of that; I was afraid he'd caught onto us at first."

"Say," he said abruptly, after a little silence, "it wouldn't be so funny if he got to huntin' us instead of our huntin' him, would it?"

The next evening it was discovered that the King's room was again dark. The Twins put out their own light, and listened by the hole in the wall.

"I'll bet there's somebody in there," said Pink. "Seems as if I could hear him breathin', and every now and then there's something rubbin' up against the wall."

"Oh, he's in there all right," said the Chinee.

Both Twins were unusually thoughtful when they went to bed. Each was discovered by the other to be awake very earing in the morning, staring at the ceiling.

"Pink?" said the Chinee interrogatively.

"Yeh."

"Have you slept well the last two nights?"

"No."

"Have you heard anything?"

"Well, yes, I have; I keep thinking I hear somebody singin'."

"Do you honestly?"

"Yes, I do. Do you?"

"Well, I thought I did. Probably it's our imagination."

"Well, if it is true, it's the worst thing I ever heard."

The Chinee turned over on his side.

"Say, look at here," he said, "was your things left like that last night?"

Both Twins stiffened up in bed. "No, they weren't."

"This room's been pawed over again, then. Say, this thing's got to stop."

The Twins got up and investigated.

"Come here," said Pink in a strained voice. "Look at this."

"What is it?"

"It's a tract—one of those things the King's always carryin' round with him."

"Well?"

"Well, you see now who's pawin' over our things. It's him. He's been in here and dropped it while we've been asleep. He's lookin' for this, and if he finds it"

"Say," continued Pink, after a period of thought, "this thing's gettin' too much for me."

"Oh, rats!"

"Well, it is. You can't tell what he might do to us."

"Well, what could he do?"

"He could do anything; he could murder us, if he got mad enough."

"Aw, go on!" said the valiant Chinee.

Nevertheless, that night—that long-remembered night—the Chinee locked and helped to barricade the door. The bureau and washstand were set against it, and a chair propped up under the knob to reinforce the lock.

It was determined that a thorough watch should be kept. The light went out; perfect silence was preserved; a constant lookout was maintained at the hole in the wall; yet nothing was accomplished but a strengthening of the suspicions of the Twins.

It was coal-black in the other room.

"He's there listenin'," said Pink.

"Well," said the Chinee at last, "let him listen. I'm going to bed."

Pink followed his example. Both were soon in bed.

Suddenly, in the middle of the night, that strange noise again—a low, crooning chant and the sound of metal. Each Twin lay stiff on his back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, waiting for the other.

"Pink, Pink," whispered the Chinee at last, "is that you?"

"Did you hear it, too?" answered his bed-fellow.

The Chinee had already left the bed.

"It's him," said Pink, following after him.

"He's lighted up," announced the Chinee, uncovering the hole.

"Oh, cracky. Pink!" he gasped, emerging. "Here's something new. Oh, just look at that!"

"O, Lordy!" shuddered the terrified Pink, "where do you s'pose he got that? Ain't that the biggest knife you ever saw? Ain't that awful?" He gave way to the Chinee.

"There it is again," he said. The crooning song and the sound of metal again floated regularly and monotonously through the hole in the wall.

"What's he doin'?"

"He's singin'."

"That's it," said Pink, "that's what we've been listenin' to. Oh, just listen to that!"

"He's just sittin' there," stated the Chinee, "singin' and sharpenin', and sharpenin' and singin'. Oh, he's layin' for us all right."

"I thought it would come to something like this," said Pink despondently.

The affair affected the Chinee differently.

"Talk about your excitement," he said, with great earnestness.

There was a weakness which had always handicapped the Chinee in the face of danger. It was giggling. The stimulus was now too great. He began to giggle.

"Shut—up!" pleaded Pink frantically. "He'll hear you. Oh, please!"

"Did you see him hoppin' round?" said the Chinee. "Oh, ain't he a sight?"

He started off again. Pink covered up the hole and began earnestly to punch him and kick his shins.

Suddenly there was a new movement in the other room.

"He's goin' toward the door," gasped Pink. "I bet he's heard you. He has—he has! He's coming. Come over to the door and push—quick."

"Don't say anything," said the straining Chinee, through his teeth; "just push."

The two boys, grasping the carpet with their bare toes, threw the whole weight of their small bodies and vigorous young souls into the reinforcement of the barricade.

The knob turned without a sound, and an awful, silent strain came suddenly on the door. For a big, breathless minute it continued. Then it fell away. The old lock, backed by the barricade, the chair, and the Twins, had held. The soft steps in the hallway died away, and the Twins were safe.

"Is he gone, Chine?" whispered Pink, still straining.

"Yeh."

"Sure?"

"Yeh."

"Now what'll we do?"

"Oh, we'll figure out something," said the hopeful Chinee.

Two days and two nights this thing continued. Two awful days and nights the savage stalked the terrified Twins, seeking to come upon them alone. Two awful days the Twins came in early to prayers and recitations and dinner; two days they devised and planned and suffered and herded closely with their kind. Two awful nights they lay with their eyes glued to the hole in the wall, and listened, with the barricade against the door.

"If we're goin' to do anything, we'd better get at it pretty quick," said Pink, the second day. "If this thing keeps on I'm going to cut and run home."

"I wisht I understood just exactly what ailed him," answered the Chinee thoughtfully.

"I tell you what," said Pink; "let's see what we can find in Mose's library."

The Twins were accordingly soon seated in Mose's library during study hours, solemnly looking over the "Encyclopedia of Nations." The Chinee was reading:

"'.—An extremely savage tribe in Western Africa, best known from their strange susceptibility to religious excitement. These strange people are extreme fetish [that's a kind of idol] worshipers, and are supposed to be cannibals. They are said to have a belief that if they lose their personal fetish in any way they are destined to meet their death immediately, and such happenings render them uncontrollably ferocious. They are exceedingly fierce in their wars and personal feuds, and have most peculiar and revolting ways of torturing their enemies.' That's all."

"I wish it had gone a little further," said Pink wistfully. "I should kind of like to know just what they do."

"Sounds a little fierce, don't it?" said the Chinee, moistening his lips.

"Well, I guess it does."

"I tell you what let's do," said the Chinee; "let's talk to Bill about it."

Bill was the captain of the football team. His prestige was enormous. He was the ruler of the school by divine right. His influence was greater than that of all the teachers who had labored in the institution since its foundation.

Bill being persuaded, the trio proceeded upstairs, the Twins galloping in the lead, striking the front of every stair with the toes of their shoes, and Bill proceeding behind, with the stately gravity of a real football captain.

"I'll tell it to you, Bill, just the way it is," said Pink, when they were settled in the room. He then proceeded with the telling of the tale. Bill was incredulous.

"Here, you young devils," said he, "don't you try to work any of your fairy tales on me. What are you givin' us, anyway?"

"Honest, Bill, it's true," said Pink. "So help me."

"Cross my heart," said the Chinee.

The story continued to its end.

"Where is he now?" said Bill.

"He's gone in to town with Mose to get a new Sunday-school quarterly or something. Maybe he's getting ready for the lecture to-morrow night."

"Why don't you put it back?"

"Put it back? How can we put it back when this wild Texas Indian has cut it in halves and dared me to wear my piece around my neck as long as he does."

"I've got the end with the most parrot feathers," said the Chinee irrelevantly, dragging out his section from its hiding-place in his clothes.

"Why don't you tell Mose?" said Bill, disregarding him.

"Tell Mose!" said the aroused Chinee. "What could Mose do? No, by cracky, I don't run to Mose every time I fall down and hurt myself. But I tell you what, Bill, I've got a scheme that's worth it. If you'll only help us, we'll get out of it all right."

The Chinee then explained his plan. It was found eminently reasonable, and exhilarating as well. Even Bill, the aged senior and football captain, renewed his lost youth and entered into the spirit of the thing.

"Only," said the Chinee, in conclusion, "don't let him have anything to throw. You know those spears and things—we'll have to swipe 'em."

The rattling wagons of the farmers were gathering along dark country ways to the little vestry. It was the night of the lecture by the Heir of the Zozos. The crowd from Middleton School arrived in their springless farm-wagon, with boards laid across the top of the box as seats.

Inside the little bare room, with its dim bracket-lamps along the wall, was the noise of heavy boots and the scraping of settees on the uncarpeted floor. Upon the raised platform, with its covering of red ingrain carpet, the pastor and the King sat side by side on the old-fashioned haircloth sofa. The Twins occupied seats together in the second row. Before them, a little to one side, sat Bill, the football captain. The forces were now drawn up.

At last the noise of getting seated died away, and the pastor, a mild, weak-featured man with a grayish beard, arose. The King, though taught in English before he reached the school, was still far from fluent. He always needed an exhibitor.

The pastor began: "I know we are all glad to have with us to-night a brother from the heathen heart of poor, benighted Africa, and that we shall be still more glad to hear the message he has to bring to us. A prince by birth and regal right, he has yet renounced the honors which are his own, and come here to obtain that which is beyond all price, and to take it home with him to his own people.

"I want to say here that, through some unexplained misfortune, the instruments of war which he usually displays have in some way been misplaced or lost on his way to the vestry. But he will show you many other curious things, and will pray and speak and sing in his own strange tongue. And I am sure that there is not one of us present here who will not be delighted with what he will see and hear to-night. I will first ask our friend to lead with a song in his own language."

The Twins were very restive. The King began to sing. Somehow, he did not display his usual enthusiasm. He seemed moody and dejected. His song dragged and droned. Old Mose noticed it, and glanced up from beneath his reverent eyebrows. At the close the Twins could stand it no longer. They gave the signal to Bill.

The King was to give a native speech next, but it was never given. As he started up, the Twins simultaneously dragged to light the ruffled remains of the idol, and dangled them tauntingly before his outraged eyes. The Chinee laid his part tenderly in the hollow of his arm, like a doll, and began to fondle it; Pink held his portion upside down, and stealthily waved it back and forth before him. The eye of the tortured ex-savage caught in a moment the bright-colored objects in their hands.

For a moment the restraint of the place was heavy upon him. Then the blood of a thousand howling ancestors cried aloud in his veins. He stiffened with anger, reached down in his coat, and brought to light the terrible knife. With a wild yell he had left the platform to fall upon the defenseless Twins. But, as he made his spring, the football captain, closing in on his flank, caught him in a beautiful tackle about his waist. They went down together in the most approved style, the big knife clanking and clattering on the floor as the negro dropped it. Half a dozen boys and a couple of big farmers were upon the prostrate King in an instant, and the face of Mose was looking sternly and wonderingly down upon him. The Twins, having concealed the remains of the idol, looked sadly and innocently down upon the scene from where they stood upon their settees. Mose appreciated the situation immediately.

"What have you been doing now?" he said.

"It must have been this, sir," said the deep-reasoning Chinee, producing his half of the idol.

"What is this?" said Mose, taking it.

"I dunno, sir. I just saw it in his room, and I took it, sir. Maybe it's a kind of an idol. Probably you could tell from showin' it to him, sir."

The principal quickly verified the Texan's position from the spasms of the King. Nothing could be done to calm the frenzy of the victim. He lay on his back and called loudly for the lives of the Twins. The minister and Mose failed utterly to pacify him. In the meantime the men and boys in the foreground wondered, and the women, huddled together in the rear of the vestry, feared greatly. The Twins were the only really calm individuals in the building.

The principal finally gave up the idea of pacification.

"I am at least glad to discover what we have been harboring," he exclaimed to the minister.

He then assigned to four of the largest boys the congenial task of holding down the infuriated King during his conveyance back to the school, where he was put into close confinement.

Mose himself drove back by way of the telegraph office, and sent the following message to the missionary sponsor of the King:

"Distressing outbreak of savage nature on part of your ward. Demands to return to Africa. Unsafe for him to remain here. Come at once."

When he returned to the school again, he sought out the Twins.

"This is pretty serious business, young men," he said solemnly, "and you are responsible. You will have to take the consequences."

"Didn't you say you were glad he was exposed, sir?" asked the innocent Chinee.

"When I want to discuss these things with you, young man," said Mose savagely, "I'll tell you so. You come and see me to-morrow in my study. And you, too, young man. I want you both."

"Yes, sir."

The Twins, covered with a proper sobriety, marched in silence out of the principal's sight and up into the dormitory. There, for, the first time since their triumph, they met the football captain.

"Oh!" said the Twins, in simultaneous admiration. "Oh, Bill, but that was a dandy tackle!"