the land of footprints-第35部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　grazing　quite　peacefully　with　flames　on　three　sides　of　them。　The　fire　seems　to　travel　rather　slowly　in　the　tough　grass；　although　at　times　and　for　a　short　distance　it　will　leap　to　a　wild　and　roaring　life。　Beasts　will　then　lope　rapidly　away　to　right　or　left；　but　without　excitement。

On　these　open　plains　we　were　more　or　less　pestered　with　ticks　of　various　sizes。　These　clung　to　the　grass　blades；　but　with　no　invincible　preference　for　that　habitat；　trousers　did　them　just　as　well。　Then　they　ascended　looking　for　openings。　They　ranged　in　size　from　little　red　ones　as　small　as　the　period　of　a　printed　page　to　big　patterned　fellows　the　size　of　a　pea。　The　little　ones　were　much　the　most　abundant。　At　times　I　have　had　the　front　of　my　breeches　so　covered　with　them　that　their　numbers　actually　imparted　a　reddish　tinge　to　the　surface　of　the　cloth。　This　sounds　like　exaggeration；　but　it　is　a　measured　statement。　The　process　of　de…ticking　（new　and　valuable　word）　can　then　be　done　only　by　scraping　with　the　back　of　a　hunting　knife。

Some　people；　of　tender　skin；　are　driven　nearly　frantic　by　these　pests。　Others；　of　whom　I　am　thankful　to　say　I　am　one；　get　off　comparatively　easy。　In　a　particularly　bad　tick　country；　one　generally　appoints　one　of　the　youngsters　as　〃tick　toto。〃　It　is　then　his　job　in　life　to　de…tick　any　person　or　domestic　animal　requiring　his　services。　His　is　a　busy　existence。　But　though　at　first　the　nuisance　is　excessive；　one　becomes　accustomed　to　it　in　a　remarkably　short　space　of　time。　The　adaptability　of　the　human　being　is　nowhere　better　exemplified。　After　a　time　one　gets　so　that　at　night　he　can　remove　a　marauding　tick　and　cast　it　forth　into　the　darkness　without　even　waking　up。　Fortunately　ticks　are　local　in　distribution。　Often　one　may　travel　weeks　or　months　without　this　infliction。

I　was　always　interested　and　impressed　to　observe　how　indifferent　the　wild　animals　seem　to　be　to　these　insects。　Zebra；　rhinoceros　and　giraffe　seem　to　be　especially　good　hosts。　The　loathsome　creatures　fasten　themselves　in　clusters　wherever　they　can　grip　their　fangs。　Thus　in　a　tick　country　a　zebra's　ears；　the　lids　and　corners　of　his　eyes；　his　nostrils　and　lips；　the　soft　skin　between　his　legs　and　body；　and　between　his　hind　legs；　and　under　his　tail　are　always　crusted　with　ticks　as　thick　as　they　can　cling。　One　would　think　the　drain　on　vitality　would　be　enormous；　but　the　animals　are　always　plump　and　in　condition。　The　same　state　of　affairs　obtains　with　the　other　two　beasts　named。　The　hartebeeste　also　carries　ticks　but　not　nearly　in　the　same　abundance；　while　such　creatures　as　the　waterbuck；　impalla；　gazelles　and　the　smaller　bucks　seem　either　to　be　absolutely　free　from　the　pests；　or　to　have　a　very　few。　Whether　this　is　because　such　animals　take　the　trouble　to　rid　themselves；　or　because　they　are　more　immune　from　attack　it　would　be　difficult　to　say。　I　have　found　ticks　clinging　to　the　hair　of　lions；　but　never　fastened　to　the　flesh。　It　is　probable　that　they　had　been　brushed　off　from　the　grass　in　passing。　Perhaps　ticks　do　not　like　lions；　waterbuck；　Tommies；　et　al。；　or　perhaps　only　big　coarse…grained　common　brutes　like　zebra　and　rhinos　will　stand　them　at　all。



XX。　DIVERS　ADVENTURES　ALONG　THE　TANA

Late　one　afternoon　I　shot　a　wart…hog　in　the　tall　grass。　The　beast　was　an　unusually　fine　specimen；　so　I　instructed　Fundi　and　the　porters　to　take　the　head；　and　myself　started　for　camp　with　Memba　Sasa。　I　had　gone　not　over　a　hundred　yards　when　I　was　recalled　by　wild　and　agonized　appeals　of　〃Bwana！　bwana！〃　The　long…legged　Fundi　was　repeatedly　leaping　straight　up　in　the　air　to　an　astonishing　height　above　the　long　grass；　curling　his　legs　up　under　him　at　each　jump；　and　yelling　like　a　steam…engine。　Returning　promptly；　I　found　that　the　wart…hog　had　come　to　life　at　the　first　prick　of　the　knife。　He　was　engaged　in　charging　back　and　forth　in　an　earnest　effort　to　tusk　Fundi；　and　the　latter　was　jumping　high　in　an　equally　earnest　effort　to　keep　out　of　the　way。　Fortunately　he　proved　agile　enough　to　do　so　until　I　planted　another　bullet　in　the　aggressor。

These　wart…hogs　are　most　comical　brutes　from　whatever　angle　one　views　them。　They　have　a　patriarchal；　self…satisfied；　suburban　manner　of　complete　importance。　The　old　gentleman　bosses　his　harem　outrageously；　and　each　and　every　member　of　the　tribe　walks　about　with　short　steps　and　a　stuffy　parvenu　small…town　self…sufficiency。　One　is　quite　certain　that　it　is　only　by　accident　that　they　have　long　tusks　and　live　in　Africa；　instead　of　rubber…plants　and　self…made　business　and　a　pug…dog　within　commuters'　distance　of　New　York。　But　at　the　slightest　alarm　this　swollen　and　puffy　importance　breaks　down　completely。　Away　they　scurry；　their　tails　held　stiffly　and　straightly　perpendicular；　their　short　legs　scrabbling　the　small　stones　in　a　frantic　effort　to　go　faster　than　nature　had　intended　them　to　go。　Nor　do　they　cease　their　flight　at　a　reasonable　distance；　but　keep　on　going　over　hill　and　dale；　until　they　fairly　vanish　in　the　blue。　I　used　to　like　starting　them　off　this　way；　just　for　the　sake　of　contrast；　and　also　for　the　sake　of　the　delicious　but　impossible　vision　of　seeing　their　human　prototypes　do　likewise。

When　a　wart…hog　is　at　home；　he　lives　down　a　hole。　Of　course　it　has　to　be　a　particularly　large　hole。　He　turns　around　and　backs　down　it。　No　more　peculiar　sight　can　be　imagined　than　the　sardonically　toothsome　countenance　of　a　wart…hog　fading　slowly　in　the　dimness　of　a　deep　burrow；　a　good　deal　like　Alice's　Cheshire　Cat。　Firing　a　revolver；　preferably　with　smoky　black　powder；　just　in　front　of　the　hole　annoys　the　wart…hog　exceedingly。　Out　he　comes　full　tilt；　bent　on　damaging　some　one；　and　it　takes　quick　shooting　to　prevent　his　doing　so。

Once；　many　hundreds　of　miles　south　of　the　Tana；　and　many　months　later；　we　were　riding　quite　peaceably　through　the　country；　when　we　were　startled　by　the　sound　of　a　deep　and　continuous　roaring　in　a　small　brush　patch　to　our　left。　We　advanced　cautiously　to　a　prospective　lion；　only　to　discover　that　the　roaring　proceeded　from　the　depths　of　a　wart…hog　burrow。　The　reverberation　of　our　footsteps　on　the　hollow　ground　had　alarmed　him。　He　was　a　very　nervous　wart…hog。

On　another　occasion；　when　returning　to　camp　from　a　solitary　walk；　I　saw　two　wart…hogs　before　they　saw　me。　I　made　no　attempt　to　conceal　myself；　but　stood　absolutely　motionless。　They　fed　slowly　nearer　and　nearer　until　at　last　they　were　not　over　twenty　yards　away。　When　finally　they　made　me　out；　their　indignation　and　amazement　and　utter　incredulity　were　very　funny。　In　fact；　they　did　not　believe　in　me　at　all　for　some　few　snorty　moments。　Finally　they　departed；　their　absurd　tails　stiff　upright。


One　afternoon　F。　and　I；　hunting　along　one　of　the　wide　grass　bottom　lands；　caught　sight　of　a　herd　of　an　especially　fine　impalla。　The　animals　were　feeding　about　fifty　yards　the　other　side　of　a　small　solitary　bush；　and　the　bush　grew　on　the　sloping　bank　of　the　slight　depression　that　represented　the　dry　stream　bottom。　We　could　duck　down　into　the　depression；　sneak　along　it；　come　up　back　of　the　little　bush；　and　shoot　from　very　close　range。　Leaving　the　gunbearers；　we　proceeded　to　do　this。

So　quietly　did　we　move　that　when　we　rose　up　back　of　the　little　bush　a　lioness　lying　under　it　with　her　cub　was　as　surprised　as　we　were！

Indeed；　I　do　not　think　she　knew　what　we　were；　for　instead　of　attacking；　she　leaped　out　the　other　side　the　bush；　uttering　a　startled　snarl。　At　once　she　whirled　to　come　at　us；　but　the　brief　respite　had　allowed　us　to　recover　our　own　scattered　wits。　As　she　turned　I　caught　her　broadside　through　the　heart。　Although　this　shot　knocked　her　down；　F。　immediately　followed　it　with　another　for　safety's　sake。　We　found　that　actually　we　had　just　missed　stepping　on　her　tail！

The　cub　we　caught　a　glimpse　of。　He　was　about　the　size　of　a　setter　dog。　We　tried　hard　to　find　him；　but　failed。　The　lioness　was　an　unusually　large　one；　probably　about　as　big　as　the　female　ever　grows；　measuring　nine　feet　six　inches　in　length；　and　three　feet　eight　inches　tail　at　the　shoulder。

Billy　had　her　funny　times　housekeeping。　The　kitchen　department　never　quite　ceased　marvelling　at　her。　Whenever　she　went　to　the　cook…camp　to　deliver　her　orders　she　was　surrounded　by　an　attentive　and　respectful　audience。　One　day；　after　holding　forth　for　some　time　in　Swahili；　she　found　that　she　had　been　standing　hobnailed　on　one　of　the　boy's　feet。

〃Why；　Mahomet！〃　she　cried。　〃That　must　hurt　you！　Why　didn't　you　tell　me？〃

〃Memsahib；〃　he　smiled　politely；　〃I　think　perhaps　you　move　some　time！〃

On　another　occasion　she　was　trying　to　tell　the　cook；　through　Mahomet　as　interpreter；　that　she　wanted　a　tough　old　buffalo　steak　pounded；　boarding…house　style。　This　evidently　puzzled　all　hands。　They　turned　to　in　an　earnest　discussion　of　what　it　was　all　about；　anyway。　Billy　understood　Swahili　well　enough　at　that　time　to　gather　that　they　could　not　understand　the　Memsahib's　wanting　the　meat　〃kibokoed〃…FLOGGED。　Was　it　a　religious　rite；　or　a　piece　of　revenge？　They　gave　it　up。

〃All　right；〃　said　Mahomet　patiently　at　last。　〃He　say　he　do　it。　WHICH　ONE　IS　IT？〃

Part　of　our　supplies　comprised　tins　of　dehydrated　fruit。　One　evening　Billy　decided　to　have　a　grand　celebration；　so　she　passed　out　a　tin　marked　〃rhubarb〃　and　some　cornstarch；　together　with　suitable　instructions　for　a　fruit　pudding。　In　a　little　while　the　cook　returned。

〃Nataka　m'tund…I　want　fruit；〃　said　he。

Billy　pointed　out；　severely；　that　he　already　had　fruit。　He　went　away　shaking　his　head。　Evening　and　the　pudding　came。　It　looked　good；　and　we　congratulated　Billy　on　her　culinary　enterprise。　Being　hungry；　we　took　big　mouthfuls。　There　followed　splutterings　and　investigations。　The　rhubarb　can　proved　to　be　an　old　one　containing　heavy　gun　grease！

When　finally　we　parted　with　our　faithful　cook　we　bought　him　a　really　wonderful　many　bladed　knife　as　a　present。　On　seeing　it　he　slumped　to　the　ground…six　feet　of　lofty　dignity…and　began　to　weep　violently；　rocking　back　and　forth　in　an　excess　of　grief。

〃Why；　what　is　it？〃　we　inquired；　alarmed。

〃Oh；　Memsahib！〃　he　wailed；　the　tears　coursing　down　his　cheeks；　〃I　wanted　a　watch！〃


One　morning　about　nine　o'clock　we　were　riding　along　at　the　edge　of　a　grass…grown　savannah；　with　a　low　hill　to　our　right　and　another　about　four　hundred　yards　ahead。　Suddenly　t