At once the animal was joined by another, just like it. Hal’s spirits rose. Perhaps they could catch the two of them. His hand itched to throw a lasso. But first he would give them a chance to pay the colonel a visit. Somehow he must show the colonel that it was not the leopards who had made off with his boots, otherwise the poor little cubs would have to be locked up every night.
The hyenas sneaked over to sniff at the cage that stood near the cook’s fireplace. They even walked into the cage. Now, with a quick run, Hal could have reached the cage and slammed the door shut. But he did not move.
If the hyenas knew that two boys were sitting under the tree, they paid no attention to them. Animals bold enough to crawl into a tent inhabited by a man are not easily scared by a couple of boys. They wandered over the camp ground picking up scraps of bread, meat, skin, anything edible.
Coming near the colonel’s tent, they stopped and sniffed again. Would they go in or not? The boys held their breath and hoped.
The hyenas walked slowly round the tent, pausing here and there to poke their noses under the canvas side-walls.
In most places the side flaps were tucked under the ground sheet, making entry difficult. But one of the two discovered a slight gap, and by pulling at it with his teeth he drew out the canvas, then flattened himself to the ground and crawled in through the hole. The other followed him.
In a moment they came out again,1 each holding a dark object in his teeth. Roger gleefully nudged Hal. The dark things were the colonel’s boots. The hyenas settled themselves near the fireplace, where the fire had long since gone out, and chewing and smacking noises told the boys that the animals were thoroughly enjoying the colonel’s foot-gear.
Hal wondered if the game had gone far enough. Should he act now and save the boots from being completely destroyed? He started up, but a mew from one of the little locked-up leopards changed his mind. No, the colonel should have his lesson.
Besides, it was hardly time yet to try to rope the hyenas. They were still on the alert, looking about constantly ready to run at any sign of danger. The longer they were let alone, the more at home they would feel and the easier it would be to capture them.
After fifteen minutes of boot-chewing, one of the hyenas was ready for a little dessert.
The pots and pans that had been used to cook dinner lay about the fireplace. They had not been washed, for the cook had been afraid to carry them down to the river in the dark. The grease of antelope steaks still covered them and nothing could appeal more to the taste of a hungry hyena.
The beast licked a heavy iron frying-pan, then picked it op and bit into it, just as he would have crunched a large bone. Soon both animals were gnawing away as if iron and copper were the daintiest of foods. The banging of the metal containers against the rocks of the fireplace woke some of the men, and heads began to poke out of tents.
‘Now!’ said Hal. ‘Come on, Zu.’
Both boys and the dog ran forward. The hyenas, still enjoying their meal, hardly noticed. They woke up to their danger only when nooses settled over their necks.
With a howl of surprise they tried to break away. Hal stood firm, but Roger was being dragged towards the bush. Then Zu went into action. She was an experienced safari dog and knew exactly what was needed. She ran in and nipped the heels of the hyena. When the beast turned towards her, she skipped out of the way. She was not taking any chances with those grinding teeth. Roger, when the rope slackened a little, turned his end of it round a bar of the heavy cage.
The other hyena, unable to escape, turned with a savage rush upon Hal. Zu lunged again. She knew the dangerous end of a hyena. She didn’t make for its head, but always for its heels. The hyena, with a howl of pain, turned upon the dog, but never could quite reach her.
The Africans were coming out now, prepared to help. Their help was scarcely needed. Zu was nip-nipping her victims towards the cage. One of them rushed in, perhaps thinking there might be safety there. Zu, like a sheepdog, kept herding the other beast towards the door. Finally it joined the first and Hal, leaping forward, slammed the door shut.
Colonel Bigg came waddling out of his tent in his pyjamas - again in his bare feet.
‘What’s all the noise about?’ he scolded. ‘Why can’t you let a man sleep? What’s going on here? Ouch!’ - as he stepped on a sharp pebble. ‘Where are my boots?’
‘There are your boots,’ Hal said, pointing to a sort of black puddle near the fireplace.
The boots looked as if they had gone through a meat-grinder. Heavy teeth had ground and mashed them into a black mush.
‘Your leopards did that,’ raged the colonel. ‘I thought I told you to keep them in their cage. I’ll kill those infernal little beasts.’ He began searching around through the bushes.
‘If it’s the leopards you’re looking for,’ said Hal, ‘look over there.’
He turned his flashlight on the leopards’ cage.
Inside the cage the two cubs stood on their hind feet with their forepaws clinging to the bars, watching the excitement with big eyes that blinked in the strong light of the electric torch.
‘They’ve been cooped up in there all night,’ Hal said. ‘Thanks to you.’
‘Then what ruined my boots?’
Hal turned the light on the hyenas’ cage. The two big spotted beasts, heads hanging, paced angrily back and forth, snarling at anyone who came close to the bars.
‘They chewed your boots,’ Hal said.
‘I don’t believe it,’ retorted the stubborn colonel. ‘Your leopards did it’
‘Do you think those two little cubs could chew up a frying-pan?’
‘What kind of question is that? Of course not.’
Hal’s light swung to the frying-pan. It was so fantastically twisted, contorted, squeezed, jammed, crumpled, dented, and smushed that it would never again fry a steak over a camp-fire.
‘What do you think of that?’ asked Hal. ‘Could a couple of baby leopards do that?’
‘Very well then,’ grumpily agreed the colonel, ‘the hyenas did it It’s the last damage they’ll do. I’ll see to that’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To get my gun.’
Hal blocked his way. Broad of shoulder and topping six feet, he made the blustering colonel think twice about trying to barge through to his tent. Hal spoke to the angry man as to a child. At this moment the boy nineteen years of age seemed older than the man past fifty.
‘You’re not going to shoot anything,’ Hal said quietly. ‘Remember, we’re here to take animals alive, not dead. Those hyenas are worth one hundred and seventy pounds apiece to any zoo. If you don’t stop firing that gun at everything you see we’ll have to take it away from you. Now, go in and go to sleep. Don’t worry about the boots -I’ll lend you another pair. And as for the leopards, now that you know they didn’t have anything to do with this, you can’t object if we free them. Roger, let out the cubs.’
Roger flung open the cage door. Chu and Cha tumbled over each other in their eagerness to get out They gambolled about through the grass, letting out little grunts and yips of delight.
Colonel Bigg, with a good deal of mumbling and muttering, disappeared into his tent
Hal, followed by Roger, went in to their father’s bedside.
‘Are you awake, Dad?’
‘Of course, Hal. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Good show.’
‘Perhaps I was too rough on the colonel.’
‘Not a bit of it. The sooner he knows he’s not the boss of this safari, the better for him. Congratulations on getting the two fisi.’ He used the native Swahili word for hyena.
‘Well,’ Hal said, ‘they’re worth money, but I can’t say they’re very pleasant animals to have around.’
‘I know what you mean. The hyena has an unsavoury reputation. He makes frightful sounds and he smells bad. He eats dead bodies. People hold that against him. But has it ever occurred to you that we do the same? We eat nothing live, except perhaps o
ysters. It’s a mighty good thing that the hyenas do eat up the dead animals. The wild-animal population of East Africa runs into millions, and every day hundreds of them die for one reason or another. Suppose all those bodies were left to rot, what a stinking jungle this would be! The hyenas are the sanitary squad. They go around and clean things up. They, along with the jackals and the vultures, are the jungle scavengers. We couldn’t do without them. Suppose a lion kills a zebra - he eats only part of it, then wanders off. In come the hyenas and eat the bones. Then along come the jackals and eat the scraps of flesh lying about. Finally the vultures arrive and take whatever is left, even gobbling up the bloody sand, so that when they are all done you would never know an animal had been killed on that spot. That’s a pretty good clean-up job.’
They may be useful,’ Roger admitted. ‘But they look so mean.’
They do, indeed. But perhaps they’re like a lot of people - not as mean as they look. On my last trip to Africa, I saw a hyena run into a camp and pick up a scrap and disappear with it into the bushes. In a moment he came back, got another bit, and off he went with it. This was repeated many times. I got curious and followed him back into the bush. There I found his mate nursing her young, and in front of her were all the scraps. The male had brought them all to her without taking one for himself. And you’d be surprised what nice pets hyena pups can be. They don’t have the smell of the older animals, and they are full of fun and as affectionate as dogs. That’s natural because they are a kind of dog, you know. Part cat and part dog, but more dog than cat.’
Chapter 12
The witchdoctor
Dawn was beginning to grey the walls of the tent. The flaps opened and the gun-bearer Toto looked in. ‘May I speak, bwana?’ ‘Come in, Toto. What’s on your mind?’ The little leopard - Chu - the male - he is gone.’ ‘Probably just running around in the bushes somewhere,’ Hal said.
‘No, I saw a man take him and run. A man from the village. I chased him but could not catch him.’
‘Why should they steal Chu?’
‘I think I know why, bwana. Last night I was in the village. The headman is sick unto death. The witchdoctor said only one thing could cure him. A goat must be sacrificed. It must be burned alive in front of the headman’s house. The men caught a black goat and tied it to a stake and piled much wood around it. They set fire to the wood. The witchdoctor danced around the fire. The goat cried very loudly. The fire burned its legs and then its body, and it died. The witchdoctor took some of the hot ashes and mixed them with juice squeezed from the body of a toad and made the headman drink.’
Then what?’ John Hunt asked. ‘Did the chief feel better?’
‘No, he did not. He closed his eyes. His face showed his great pain. His body became as stiff as the trunk of a tree. His son said if he died the witchdoctor must also die.’
That must have frightened the witchdoctor.’
‘He was much afraid. He told the people it was their own fault that the medicine had not worked. It was because they did -not believe. They did not have enough faith. They had not sacrificed enough. It was too easy to get a goat - they must do something more difficult. And he gave them something very hard to do.’
‘What was that?’
‘Their headman was no ordinary man, he said, he was their great chief, and a great man must have a great sacrifice. They must feed him the heart of a leopard. Then he would be well. If they did not give him the heart of a leopard within twelve hours, he would die.’
‘He was asking the impossible. Leopards cannot be found so easily. It might take them days or weeks to find a leopard.’
‘It is so,’ Toto said. ‘The witchdoctor gave them this hard thing to do and hoped they could not do it. He thought the chief would die. Then the people could not blame the witchdoctor. He could say, ‘I told you what to do and you didn’t do it. If you had brought me a leopard within twelve hours, I could have cured your chief. His death is your own fault.’ The men turned one to the other in long palaver. Though they talked much, no one could say where they might catch a leopard. And I, weary of much listening, came back to camp.’
‘I can guess what happened then,’ said John Hunt. ‘Someone must have remembered that we had two leopards here in camp. So one of the men sneaked down and waited his chance, and after the cubs were let out he grabbed Chu.’
Roger leaped to his feet. Already the witchdoctor’s knife might be cutting out the heart of little Chu.
‘Let’s get up there in a hurry.’
Hal rose. ‘Wait, Hal,’ his father said. Take the medicine kit with you.’
Hal seized the kit, and the two boys and Toto started on the run up the hill to the village.
They heard the beating of wooden drums, shouting of men, chattering of women. The villagers must be highly excited. Above all this noise rose the howling of a single voice, probably that of the witchdoctor as he worked himself up into a frenzy in preparation for the sacrifice.
The three burst through the ring of huts. They had not arrived a moment too soon.
There was little Chu, standing on his hind feet, strapped to a post by his neck and his heels, his chest exposed ready for the knife. His little forepaws waved helplessly in the air. He was mewing pitifully.
Before him danced the witchdoctor. His body and face were painted in many colours. Strapped to his forehead was a pair of antelope horns. Tall egret feathers and ostrich plumes rose from his hair and waved wildly as he leaped about. A lion’s mane had been strapped to his chin so that it looked like an enormous beard.
Hanging from his neck by a cord was a tin can with crocodile teeth dangling in front of it. Every move of his body made the teeth crash against the can, keeping up an unearthly din.
Around his throat was a necklace of hyenas’ claws. His only clothing was a strip of giraffe skin round his loins. His bare legs and bare trunk were oiled with crocodile fat and he smelt to high heaven.
As he leaped, stooped, twisted, and yelled, the long knife in his hand flashed in the sun, and at every sweep its savage point came closer to the frightened leopard.
Around these two central figures danced the people of the village, chanting, praying, shouting, while drummers behind them pounded on hollow logs.
Roger, seeing his pet in danger, did not stop to think of his own safety. He plunged in through the circle of dancers, jerked out his hunting-knife, cut the cords binding Chu, and gathered the whimpering leopard in his arms.
Hal and Toto were at once beside him. The noise stopped abruptly. The people stared in astonishment, their mouths hanging open. They waited for the witchdoctor to strike these impertinent strangers dead.
The witchdoctor himself glared at them with a look of savage hate. He had to look up to meet Hal’s eyes, for the boy was taller than he by a good twelve inches. But he had a knife, and Hal was unarmed. The witchdoctor screamed with fury and raised his knife. Hal seized his arm, gave it a sharp twist, and the knife fell to the ground.
‘I want to see your chief,’ Hal said.jay:
The wizard looked blank, understanding no English. Toto translated into Swahili. The witchdoctor replied angrily.
‘He says you can’t see the chief. The chief is very ill.’
Hal looked about. One hut was larger than the others. That would be the chief’s home. He pressed through the crowd and entered the open door of the hut. Toto was close behind him, and Roger with the leopard in his arms. The witchdoctor and the villagers followed, and the hut was suddenly full.
On a straw pallet lay the chief. He raised his hand in a weak gesture of greeting.
‘My friend,’ he said in English.
‘If we are friends,’ Hal replied, ‘why did you let them steal our leopard?’
It was his plan,’ the chief said, glancing at the witchdoctor, ‘not mine. I knew nothing of it until they brought the leopard to the village. It should not have been done. We remember that you killed the man-eater that was killing our children. We are grateful.’
/> ‘It was a strange way to show gratitude,’ Hal said.
‘That is true,’ the headman admitted. ‘But my people are not so bad as you think. They wanted to save my life. That feeling was greater than their gratitude.’ ‘They were about to kill our pet.’ ‘I tried to stop them. But a chief’s word is not strong when he is near death. Then the witchdoctor takes the power. Perhaps I did not try hard enough to stop them.
After all, I wanted to live. Perhaps our witchdoctor is right. Perhaps eating the heart of an animal that grows strong will make me grow strong. You are a good man. You would not want me to die if I could be saved by the death of an animal.’
Hal smiled and pressed the chief’s hand.
‘Of course I don’t want you to die. But how can you believe this nonsense? How could a leopard’s heart help you? You are educated. You know the new things, you even speak English. And yet you give in to this foolish old superstition.’
The chief closed his eyes and said gently, ‘Not all the old things are wrong. Not all the new things are true. You also have superstitions.’
Hal felt like a small boy being gently reproved by his father.
‘Indeed we do have our superstitions,’ he said. ‘We have much to learn, and we can learn a great deal from the people of Africa. Still -1 might have something in this black box that would help you.’
‘What is that?’
‘A medicine kit. I’m no doctor - but we often have to doctor each other on these trips. You seem to have a fever. May I take your temperature?’
A slight nod was his only answer. But when he opened the kit and took out the thermometer, the witchdoctor began to jabber violently.
‘He says,’ Toto translated, ‘that he knows this thing. It is full of poison and will kill the chief.’
The headman spoke sharply to the witchdoctor, then took the thermometer and put it into his own mouth.
06 African Adventure Page 8
