Tales from the Veld. Glanville Ernest

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СКАЧАТЬ anxious look on his face I had noticed prev’ous. As I went into the kloof he swung into the trees, an’ kept along overhead. When we came to the thick o’ the wood, he going along all the time scarcely moving a leaf, he made a soft noise, an’ looking up I saw him bobbing his head up an’ down to make you giddy. I know by that he saw somethin’, an’ I jes’ slipped behind a tree to take stock. I yeerd a yawn, an’ what d’ye think I see thro’ the leaves stretched out on a rock, not twenty foot away?”

      “A black fellow?”

      “Yes; a black feller, with four legs an’ a tail, an’ a red mouth all agape, wide enough to take in my head, hat an’ all.”

      “A black tiger?”

      “Yes; an’ me with only a tin can. I jes’ sank down inter my boots. All o’ a sudden his jaws come to with a snap. Then he riz his head and stired straight fer me, his eyes gitting flamier as he looked, an’ his tail all on the jerk. He moved his round head about, then shot out his neck an’ growled in his stummik as he peered under the leaves. Just then that baboon let out a ‘baugh – baugh – bok-hem,’ an’ dropped down beyond the tiger. There were a roar, a leap, a scramble, an’ Abe Pike were shooting on his tracks for the open veld. He didn’t stop running till he got home – he didn’t – not me.”

      “And the baboon? He wasn’t killed, was he?”

      “You wait – jes’ you wait. Before you get the end o’ the journey you’ve got to pass the half-way house. This is a solitary place – this mansion – and beyond the ole Gaika-Bolo I have no visitors – an’ he only when he’s doctorin’ the Kaffirs down these parts. So that night, when there were a tap at the door, I were skeered a little from the shake I got when I saw that black critter staring at me with them wicked eyes of hisn. ‘Come in!’ I sed, an’ the tap came agin, soft an’ gentle, like as if a child or a woman were standin’ there – timid – tho’ it’s many a year since a female brushed the door-post with her dress – a many years, my lad.”

      “Yes, Uncle; who was it?”

      “‘Come in!’ I sed, laying hold o’ a piece of wood. ‘Jes’ pull the string,’ I sed. Believe me, the string were pulled – the upper half o’ the door swung open, an’ he stepped in.”

      “Who?”

      “The old man baboon! He pulled the string, the door swung open, an’ he hopped in.”

      “Good gracious, Uncle!”

      “Yer s’prised. Well, jes’ think how it took me – an’ on top o’ what I saw that day. I jes’ sot there an’ looked, an’ when he turned an’ shut that door, an’ moved the wooden button to secure it, I were fairly paralysed. ‘Ho-hoo,’ he sed, an’ blinked his eyes. He jes’ sed ‘ho-hoo’ in a friendly way, an’ planked hisself down before the fire, with the black palms o’ his hands to the coals, his head turned over his shoulder, an’ his little grey eyes takin’ stock o’ everythin’ in the room.”

      “He must have escaped from captivity.”

      “That’s the first thought that struck me when I steadied my brain pan. Thinks I, he b’longed to some man, an’ I looked at his waist for signs of the chain, but there were no sign. I noticed he looked empty, an’, remembering how he’d saved me by leading the tiger off another way, I got out a mealie cob. He snatched it quick, raised his eyebrows at me, then begun to eat as ef he’d been hungry for a week. There we sot – he one side, eating, me t’other, smoking. All o’ a sudden he quit eating: then he stood up on his hind legs an’ looked outer the winder. ‘Wot’s up now?’ sezs I to myself. There he stood looking outer that window; then he gave a jump into the rafters, crowding hisself under the slope. It gave me a sort o’ creepy crawl to see him do that, an’ I took down the ole gun. Bymby I yeard a sniff under the crack of the door as if a dog were taking a smell. Then there were a space o’ stillness that was terrible trying. I stood there looking at the door, ’xpecting to see it fly open, when I chanced to give a glance at the winder, and my blood froze.”

      “What did you see?”

      “What did I see? A pair o’ green eyes fixed on me. Then the gleam o’ white teeth an’ a sort o’ dim outline o’ a big round head. I let out a yell, an’ fired. If you look you’ll see where the winder’s smashed.”

      “The tiger had tracked the baboon?”

      “Very like ’twas jes’ that.”

      “And then?”

      “Then I jes’ jumped inter the pantry an shut myself in till daybreak.”

      “Yes, Uncle Abe; and what happened then?”

      “I jes’ opened the door gently, an’ looked out.”

      “Well?”

      “Well! The door were open. I yeerd the cracking o’ the fire an’ the humming o’ the kettle.”

      “Someone had called?”

      “Perhaps so; perhaps not. ’Tany rate the fire were lit. And when I looked out the front door there were the old man baboon plucking the feathers from the grey hen.”

      “Humph!”

      “Yes. An’ when he done plucking he popped the old fowl inter the pot.”

      “Ha! I suppose the tiger was lying dead?”

      “Who – the tiger? Not he. The darned critter pulled the plug outer the water barrel, then turned the barrel over an’ let all the water out. Arter that he pulled the roof offun my shed.”

      “I don’t see the baboon around.”

      “He ain’t around. Arter breakfast he went. When I come to think o’ it, he took the road to your place, an’ it’s my b’lief, sonny, he’s on the spoor o’ the same tiger.”

      “And you won’t come over, then?”

      “I’m waitin’ for that ole man baboon to come back. If he comes back an’ finds me gone I reckon he’d be disappointed. I tell yer I’d be mighty keerful how you treat that tiger.”

      “Everything happened as you have related, Uncle Abe?”

      “That’s so, sonny.”

      “How did the baboon light the fire?”

      “He jes’ used the bellers, I ’xpect, used the beller, an’ puffed the embers. Tell me how yer get on. Sorry I can’t go; but I dasn’t. So long!”

      Chapter Four

      Abe Pike and the Whip

      I don’t know what degree of truth there was in old Abe’s account of his adventure with the black tiger, but I certainly learnt to my cost that whether the brute had or had not given a domicile to a witch-doctor, it was too cunning for any efforts on my part to get even with it for the heavy toll it levied on the young cattle. I was driven once more to seek out his assistance, but I thought I would get him over to the homestead on some other pretext, being firmly persuaded that once he was there his hunting instincts would lead him on the tiger’s spoor. One afternoon, therefore, I drove over in the “spider,” and found him busily engaged waxing a stout fishing line for “kabblejauw,” a very large, СКАЧАТЬ