Part 6 (2/2)
”Umbezi,” I shouted, or, rather, sneezed through the smoke, ”are you dead, Umbezi?”
”Yes, yes, Mac.u.mazahn,” replied a choking and melancholy voice from the top of the rock, ”I am dead, quite dead. That evil spirit of a silwana [i.e. wild beast] has killed me. Oh! why did I think I was a hunter; why did I not stop at my kraal and count my cattle?”
”I am sure I don't know, you old lunatic,” I answered, as I scrambled up the rock to bid him good-bye.
It was a rock with a razor top like the ridge of a house, and there, hanging across this ridge like a pair of nether garments on a clothes-line, I found the ”Eater-up-of-Elephants.”
”Where did he get you, Umbezi?” I asked, for I could not see his wounds because of the smoke.
”Behind, Mac.u.mazahn, behind!” he groaned, ”for I had turned to fly, but, alas! too late.”
”On the contrary,” I replied, ”for one so heavy you flew very well; like a bird, Umbezi, like a bird.”
”Look and see what the evil beast has done to me, Mac.u.mazahn. It will be easy, for my moocha has gone.”
So I looked, examining Umbezi's ample proportions with care, but could discover nothing except a large smudge of black mud, as though he had sat down in a half-dried puddle. Then I guessed the truth. The buffalo's horns had missed him. He had been struck only with its muddy nose, which, being almost as broad as that portion of Umbezi with which it came in contact, had inflicted nothing worse than a bruise. When I was sure he had received no serious injury, my temper, already sorely tried, gave out, and I administered to him the soundest smacking--his position being very convenient--that he had ever received since he was a little boy.
”Get up, you idiot!” I shouted, ”and let us look for the others. This is the end of your folly in making me attack a herd of buffalo in reeds.
Get up. Am I to stop here till I choke?”
”Do you mean to tell me that I have no mortal wound, Mac.u.mazahn?” he asked, with a return of cheerfulness, accepting the castigation in good part, for he was not one who bore malice. ”Oh, I am glad to hear it, for now I shall live to make those cowards who fired the reeds sorry that they are not dead; also to finish off that wild beast, for I hit him, Mac.u.mazahn, I hit him.”
”I don't know whether you hit him; I know he hit you,” I replied, as I shoved him off the rock and ran towards the tilted tree where I had last seen Scowl.
Here I beheld another strange sight. Scowl was still seated in the eagle's nest that he shared with two nearly fledged young birds, one of which, having been injured, was uttering piteous cries. Nor did it cry in vain, for its parents, which were of that great variety of kite that the Boers call ”lammefange”, or lamb-lifters, had just arrived to its a.s.sistance, and were giving their new nestling, Scowl, the best doing that man ever received at the beak and claws of feathered kind. Seen through those rus.h.i.+ng smoke wreaths, the combat looked perfectly t.i.tanic; also it was one of the noisiest to which I ever listened, for I don't know which shrieked the more loudly, the infuriated eagles or their victim.
Seeing how things stood, I burst into a roar of laughter, and just then Scowl grabbed the leg of the male bird, that was planted in his breast while it removed tufts of his wool with its hooked beak, and leapt boldly from the nest, which had become too hot to hold him. The eagle's outspread wings broke his fall, for they acted as a parachute; and so did Umbezi, upon whom he chanced to land. Springing from the prostrate shape of the chief, who now had a bruise in front to match that behind, Scowl, covered with pecks and scratches, ran like a lamp-lighter, leaving me to collect my second gun, which he had dropped at the bottom of the tree, but fortunately without injuring it. The Kafirs gave him another name after that encounter, which meant ”He-who-fights-birds-and-gets-the-worst-of-it.”
Well, we escaped from the line of the smoke, a dishevelled trio--indeed, Umbezi had nothing left on him except his head ring--and shouted for the others, if perchance they had not been trodden to death in the rush. The first to arrive was Saduko, who looked quite calm and untroubled, but stared at us in astonishment, and asked coolly what we had been doing to get in such a state. I replied in appropriate language, and asked in turn how he had managed to remain so nicely dressed.
He did not answer, but I believe the truth was that he had crept into a large ant-bear's hole--small blame to him, to be frank. Then the remainder of our party turned up one by one, some of them looking very blown, as though they had run a long way. None were missing, except those who had fired the reeds, and they thought it well to keep clear for a good many hours. I believe that afterwards they regretted not having taken a longer leave of absence; but when they finally did arrive I was in no condition to note what pa.s.sed between them and their outraged chief.
Being collected, the question arose what we should do. Of course, I wished to return to camp and get out of this ill-omened place as soon as possible. But I had reckoned without the vanity of Umbezi. Umbezi stretched over the edge of a sharp rock, whither he had been hoisted by the nose of a buffalo, and imagining himself to be mortally wounded, was one thing; but Umbezi in a borrowed moocha, although, because of his bruises, he supported his person with one hand in front and with the other behind, knowing his injuries to be purely superficial, was quite another.
”I am a hunter,” he said; ”I am named 'Eater-up-of-Elephants';” and he rolled his eyes, looking about for someone to contradict him, which n.o.body did. Indeed, his ”praiser,” a thin, tired-looking person, whose voice was worn out with his previous exertions, repeated in a feeble way:
”Yes, Black One, 'Eater-up-of-Elephants' is your name; 'Lifted-up-by-Buffalo' is your name.”
”Be silent, idiot,” roared Umbezi. ”As I said, I am a hunter; I have wounded the wild beast that subsequently dared to a.s.sault me. [As a matter of fact, it was I, Allan Quatermain, who had wounded it.] I would make it bite the dust, for it cannot be far away. Let us follow it.”
He glared round him, whereon his obsequious people, or one of them, echoed:
”Yes, by all means let us follow it, 'Eater-up-of-Elephants.'
Mac.u.mazahn, the clever white man, will show us how, for where is the buffalo that he fears!”
Of course, after this there was nothing else to be done, so, having summoned the scratched Scowl, who seemed to have no heart in the business, we started on the spoor of the herd, which was as easy to track as a wagon road.
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