of the honey, and leave the rest for the honey guide. This was important to the little bird, because it cared for nothing so much as honey.
There was another extraordinary thing about the honey guide. If honey were not left for it, it would take revenge. Many hunters had suffered because of this peculiar habit. The angry bird would lead you again - but this time not to a bees’ nest, but to a serpent or lion or leopard or some other dangerous creature, in the hope that you would be scratched, bitten, or stung.
Some people, like Tieg, who had not studied the honey guide, did not believe all this. This co-operation between a man and a bird was too strange to be true. They did not realize that symbiosis, which means teamwork between two different kinds of animals, is not uncommon in nature.
The rhino and the egret are friends, the bird rides on the beast’s back and gobbles up the insects that annoy the rhino.
The tick-bird performs a similar service to the buffalo, picking out the ticks that have burrowed into the animal’s hide.
The crocodile bird fearlessly enters the open mouth of the crocodile to pick bits of food from between the teeth. Also it eats the leeches that infest the creature’s body. The crocodile is a bad-tempered reptile, but has a soft spot in its heart for this bird.
A small fish swims about among the arms of the sea anemone. Those arms are covered with stingers but the little fish is not stung, because it is the anemone’s good friend and assistant. It tempts big fish which rush in to take it, and are promptly stung and swallowed by the anemone.
There were dozens of other examples of symbiosis, all unknown to big Tieg.
With a noisy cher-cher-cher the little brown-bodied, white-tailed honey guide fluttered farther away and Tieg followed. The bird impatiently waited for him to catch up, fluttering and twittering constantly, then moving on.
Presently Tieg noticed that he was not the only one following the honey guide. The other was an animal about two and half feet long and a foot high with long sharp claws. This was the famous honey badger or ratel. He also loved honey. Honey badger and honey guide were glad to work together.
Tieg hurried. He must not let this animal beat him to the feast of honey.
The bird had now stopped going forward and was circling round and round a branch that cradled a large nest Tieg smacked his lips. This was going to be good. The tree was not hard to climb. He clambered up the trunk and out on the branch.
Bees are not fools. They saw him coming and prepared for battle. When he came within two feet of the nest they pounced upon him. They stung him on the neck and nose and cheeks and arms. Trying to beat them off, he lost his grip on the branch and fell.
He had the bad judgment to fall on the honey badger, which promptly bit him on the leg. This animal is a ferocious fighter and will take on an opponent a dozen times its own size. It proceeded to rip holes in Tieg’s clothes with its sharp claws. Tieg shook it off and ran.
He stopped when he found that the ratel was not following. Instead, the animal was climbing up to the bees’ nest.
Tieg felt as happy about it as if he had planned it that way. What could be better? The ratel would do the work and he, Tieg, would get the honey. It occurred to him that he was pretty smart, after all.
The bees swarmed around the ratel but their stings did not disturb him in the least. His tough hide was like a coat of armour. He clawed the nest from the branch and it fell to the ground. The bees still buzzed around the branch that had been their home.
This was easy picking. All that Tieg needed to do was to take the big honeycomb, treat himself, then carry all the rest to the village, give everybody a little of it, and allow everyone to think what a clever fellow he really was.
But the honey badger was clawing open the comb and eating the sweet contents. The bird fluttered about constantly, waiting its turn. Tieg also waited. His heart sank when he saw that the ratel was tearing the honeycomb to bits. There would be nothing much left to take to the village.
Finally the ratel stopped eating and looked up at the bird as if to say, ‘Now it’s your turn’. He ambled off, full of honey and quite content. He had left enough for his flying
friend.
The bird promptly sailed in to get its own dinner but was as promptly scared away by Tieg. What could he do now? He wasn’t going to eat after an animal. Besides, what was left, though satisfactory to a bird, was so crumbled and mixed with dirt that no man would want to eat it.
Tieg was angry. Angry with the honey badger, and angry with the honey bird which had led him here on a fool’s errand. Instead of allowing the bird to enjoy its dinner in peace, he fiercely ground every bit of honeycomb deep into the dirt, then, quite proud of himself, stood off to see what the bird would make of it.
The honey guide flew down and pecked about but found nothing. It flew up to perch on a branch and peer at Tieg with one eye. For a while it was quite silent. Tieg was highly pleased with himself. It was a pleasure to be able to cheat somebody or something, even if it was only a bird.
Presently the honey guide stirred. It fluttered a bit and found its voice. It took off and flew to another tree, cher-ing loudly and fluttering excitedly.
So this was another come-on, Tieg thought. The bird would lead him to another beehive. This time there would be no honey badger to make a mess of things.
He followed the bird, which flew from tree to tree, finally stopping at a hollow stump and circling about it just as it had circled around the branch.
The hive must be in the stump. The trees cast heavy shade and Tieg could not see into the hollow, but he noticed that there were no bees flying about. That was good - perhaps they were away on an expedition, leaving the home unguarded. All he had to do this time was to reach in and take out the entire honeycomb, perfect and unbroken, and carry it off to the village.
He reached in and was immediately bitten by very sharp teeth. He pulled out his hand and whatever it was that had bitten him clung on to it.
Out came a cat-like animal spotted like a leopard, but smaller, with a black mask over its face.
It was no sooner out than it sprayed Tieg with a shower of evil-smelling secretion so strong that it might have paralysed a skunk. He swung it about trying to free his hand, but only succeeded in provoking it to send out more foul-smelling blasts that soaked him from head to toe.
It was the civet’s method of self-defence. All animals, big and small, had learned to leave the civet alone. The smell was like that of very strong ammonia. It burned the inside of the nostrils of any creature that smelled it. Strangely enough, the stuff was used commercially as a base for perfumes. Of course its odour was completely changed in the process. But in its raw state there was nothing more disagreeable. If a monkey was sprayed, the other monkeys would have nothing to do with him. And, unluckily, the stink had a lasting quality and could not be washed away or rubbed off.
The civet prowls about at night but lies up during the day in some dark hole. The hollow stump was this animal’s home sweet home, and it hotly resented being disturbed. After it had bitten deep and sprayed out everything it had to give, it dropped again into its hollow, giving some low-pitched, throaty coughs as if it could hardly stand its own smell.
Chapter 11
The salty baboon
Searching for the leader of the gang that had slaughtered sixty gorillas, Hal and his men walked into the village of Kala.
It was a poor village. The houses were small and had no windows. The walls were of mud, the roofs were thatch made of papyrus - the same plant from which the ancient Egyptians made paper.
The people did not look too healthy but they were in a gay mood because this was the day when they would celebrate the election of a new chief. There would be a solemn ceremony when the present chief, now eighty years old, would pass on his authority to his son.
But this morning the old man was still chief, so Hal inquired the way to his house. He found a fine old gentleman with all the best qualities of a chief, but the withered
body of a man who all his life had never had enough to eat.
After the usual courteous greetings spoken by Hal in English and translated into Swahili by Joro, Hal asked:
‘Do you know a man named Nero? He hunts gorillas.’
‘Yes, I know him.’
‘Will he be here today?’
‘I hope not. He is not welcome in this village.’
‘We hope he will come,’ Hal said. ‘We want to invite him to go with us to the police and explain why he is killing gorillas without a permit.’
‘Good,’ the chief said. ‘He should be punished for killing our people.’
‘Your people? The people of this village?’
‘No. Our neighbours in the forest. The great tribes without speech.’
Hal was puzzled. Joro explained. ‘He means the gorillas. Many villages do not believe that the gorillas are animals. They say that they are men who have lost the power of speech.’
Hal did not argue this point. He was satisfied to let the old chief believe whatever he chose to believe. He had to admit that the gorillas were better men than some men he knew.
‘Don’t you ever have trouble with these - tribes of the forest?’ he asked.
‘Never. If we leave them alone they never bother us.’
Hal looked out into the gardens surrounding the village. ‘But I see some of them stealing your vegetables right now.’
‘No, no,’ the chief said. ‘Those are not the forest people. Those are baboons. They are only animals. They trouble us very much. They steal our food and we go hungry. And now we have not only hunger but thirst.’
‘But you have waterholes.’
They have dried up,’ the chief said sadly.
Hal tried to remember something he had read about the baboons and water. These animals didn’t require much water. They usually got enough out of the green stuff that they ate. But they had the rare ability to detect the presence of water beneath the soil. If they became very thirsty they would locate water and dig down to it. But how to make a baboon thirsty enough to want to dig?
‘Do you have salt?’ he asked.
‘Salt we have. But it only makes us more thirsty.’
‘Then it would make a baboon thirsty,’ Hal explained. ‘Perhaps thirsty enough to dig a well for you in your own garden. I’m not promising that it can be done. But would you like us to try?’
The old man nodded gravely but seemed to have little faith in the experiment. ‘We thank you for your thought,’ he said. ‘It will do no harm to try.’
‘We shall need a rope,’ Hal said.
The chief sent one of his women for a line. She brought a rope that was not a rope. But it would do. It was one of the lianas that hang from the great trees.
Hal called together his men. ‘Catch the biggest, strongest baboon you can get. Bring him here.’
The men, puzzling over this strange order, proceeded to the garden. The baboons did not run. Being the boldest of the primates, they kept on rooting out and devouring vegetables even when the men closed round them.
In the meantime, one of the chiefs women brought a large gourd filled with salt. It was not good clean commercial salt, for it had been scraped from a forest salt pan, but it was good enough for the purpose.
The baboon was brought. ‘Now, lay it out,’ Hal said, ‘flat on its back - hold its arms and legs down - prise its jaws apart with that stick.’
The baboon struggled but the odds against it were too great. Hal began to force-feed it with salt. He felt a little guilty for doing this even to a baboon but after all, the animal should pay for damaging the gardens. Hal did not stop until the gourd was empty and the baboon was full.
‘All right. Let him go.’
Perhaps any other animal would have made straight for the forest. The baboon only joined its companions, then turned and made faces at the men who had tormented it. How long it would take for the salt to do its work, Hal did not know. Perhaps the experiment would not work at all. The baboon sat sulking among the vegetables. With a stuffed stomach, he had no desire to eat more.
Hal waited and wondered. When the animal became thirsty he might wander off into the forest, perhaps many miles away, before he began to dig for water.
But Hal didn’t think so. A baboon rarely goes off on its own. Besides, the ground in the forest would be full of roots and digging would be difficult if not impossible. In the garden the soil was soft, and clear of roots and stones.
It was nearly an hour before the baboon rose and began to explore. Then he walked about with his head down, using whatever mysterious senses elephants, rhinos, baboons, and other animals employ to locate underground water.
Then he fixed upon a spot that suited him and began to dig. His great claw-like hands made excellent shovels. He soon had help. Baboons have a strong instinct for teamwork. In this respect they are quite different from some other animals, such as the hyena which is a loner, and seldom co-operates with other hyenas. If one baboon, especially a leader, starts a job the others will promptly join him.
So a dozen hands scooped away the dirt and the well rapidly deepened. They kept at it until at a depth of about twelve feet water began to ooze into the pit. It was muddy at first, but the salt-filled male did not wait for it to clear. He drank deeply.
The people of the village ran to get their calabashes and climbed down the sloping side of the well to capture the water that was now nearly two feet deep.
The old chief thanked Hal and the villagers looked at him as if he were some sort of magician.
There was only one thing wrong with that well. It brought in other baboons from the forest. Soon there were twice as many baboons as before, enjoying the water and eating the growing vegetables. People beat gourds and pans to frighten them off, but baboons do not frighten easily. Instead, they nipped the legs of their tormentors with their strong, sharp teeth.
They even tore down a scarecrow that had been erected in the gardens to frighten them away. It had worked on most animals, but not baboons. The people looked again to Hal, the great magician. But the wizard had used up all his wizardry. He had no idea how to cope with this new situation.
Help was to come from an unexpected quarter. It was the great Andre’ Tieg who would step in at the right moment to save the gardens and save the day.
Chapter 12
The spotted cat
The huge wooden drum of the village began to boom. It was time for the ceremony when the new chief would replace the old.
The people left the gardens and gathered in the open space at the centre of the village.
The aged chief made a long and beautiful speech that brought tears to the eyes of those who listened. They loved him and were sorry to have him step down. But when his son came before them they welcomed him as their new master with a great clatter of gourds and pans. He made a short and modest speech praising the work of his father over the years and promising to do everything in his power to carry on his father’s work.
There was good reason for the shortness of his speech. He was interrupted by the arrival of Tieg.
Hal’s men were disappointed to see that Tieg brought no honey. As for the villagers, they were amazed by the appearance of this huge fellow with his bristling yellow moustache, his cockatoo hair, and his glass eye.
But most of all they were conscious of a penetrating odour that seemed to bum the inside of their nostrils and start a fire in their heads. Those nearest to Tieg realized that the stench came from the big man’s tattered and stained clothing. They shrank away from him as if he had the plague. They held their noses - but they must breathe and when they did they were almost suffocated by the evil smell.
They looked to Hal for help, but Hal was helpless. They turned to their new chief. Here was his first problem as headman of the village. Here was a test case. He must do something. If he succeeded he would be respected. If he failed he would start his rule with a black mark against him. Another even more serious problem confronted him - the problem
of what to do to save the gardens from the baboons.
The young chief, urged on by his people, approached Tieg. But when he came within ten feet of him he stopped. It was as if he had come up against a stone wall - an invisible wall of smell so sickening that he could not go farther. He looked around helplessly. He knew he was making a poor spectacle of himself as leader of his village.
‘I wish we could do something for him,’ Hal said.
1 think I can,’ said Roger.
Hal was amused by his young brother’s courage. ‘Well, if you can, go to it.’
Roger called Joro. ‘I want to speak to the chief - privately - in his own house. Will you interpret?’
Joro smiled and nodded. He did not think it strange for this fourteen-year-old boy to expect a private conference with a village chief. Roger had already won the respect of the crew by his single-handed capture of the gorilla and the white python.
Joro introduced Roger to the chief, who looked at him curiously and a little impatiently because he did not care to be bothered by a boy when there were important matters waiting for his attention. He reluctantly consented and the three entered his house and closed the door.
‘Now, what is it?’ demanded the young headman. ‘I can’t give you much time.’
Some fifteen minutes later they emerged from the house, the chief carrying a blanket. He came within ten feet of Tieg and threw the blanket at his feet.
‘You will remove your clothes,’ he ordered. ‘You will wear this instead.’
Tieg glared at him. ‘I will do no such thing.’
Hal said, ‘Mr Tieg, please do as he says.’
Sulkily, Tieg drew the blanket around himself and slipped off his rags beneath it.
‘Now,’ said the new chief, ‘you will carry your clothes and put them on that scarecrow.’
Tieg threaded his way through the crowd of feeding baboons and the people followed to watch him clothe the figure in the field.
Immediately there was a commotion among the baboons. They stopped feeding and began to give signals of acute distress. Their sense of smell, more acute than man’s, was all the more tortured by this frightful stink that the civet used so effectively against all enemies from baboon to elephant.
10 Gorilla Adventure Page 6
