The trail of blood was easy to follow at first, but it was not very long
before Nomusa understood why Zitu was worried. The sun was sinking
deeper and deeper, and Nomusa remembered how quickly darkness came after
sunset.
From time to time they came to large patches of flattened grass where
the wounded elephant had fallen, to rise again and move on.
The hunters kept their eyes on the ground, and their ears were keenly
alert to all the sounds about them. They knew how dangerous a wounded
bull elephant could be, and other fierce animals might be prowling.
It became more and more difficult to see the trail of the animal, and
Nomusa began to fear night would fall before they found him.
Then Sihkulumi, one of the hunters in the lead, stopped dead in his
tracks, pointing.
“Hau!” he said. “There he is!”
Ahead of them they saw the wounded elephant lying against a tree that
seemed to bend with his huge weight.
“He is dead!” Sihkulumi cried, and he rushed forward. Zitu spoke a
restraining word; then he raced after Sihkulumi.
Even as the hunter reached him, the elephant heaved his huge bulk
upright. His trunk shot out, enveloping Sihkulumi. He would surely be
killed, crushed to death by the powerful trunk.
Nomusa saw her father, fearfully close to the elephant, taking sure aim.
Then his bow twanged, and the arrow sped to the elephant’s brain.
The beast dropped dead, and Sihkulumi’s body fell to the ground. Zitu
was beside him in a moment. Soon Sihkulumi sat up, not hurt, only shaken
and frightened. But he could not look at the chief, and when he spoke
his voice was full of shame.
“I was not worth risking your life for,” he said. “If I had remembered
to wait for your orders, there would have been no danger.”
Zitu helped him to his feet. “I am thankful that you are alive,” he said
simply. “I believe you will never be foolish again.”
He turned to the others. “We shall stay here tonight. We shall need a
very large fire to frighten away animals.”
Nomusa went about gathering wood with the others, but she could not
forget the sight of Zitu as he faced the elephant. This was a story that
would be told about the evening fires for many moons.
The hunters cut off great chunks of elephant meat to roast over the
fire. What a feast they had! Nomusa was surprised to discover how good
the meat tasted. But it was very tough to chew. When everyone had eaten
as much as he wanted, Zitu chose the first sentry for the night, and all
lay down to sleep.
What animals howled or roared through the night, only the sentinels
knew. Nomusa and the other weary hunters were awakened at dawn the next
morning, greeted by the smell of roasting elephant meat.
In the morning the men started the difficult task of cutting the huge
tusks out of the elephant’s jaw. It took hours and hours. But at last
they were out and lying side by side on the ground, where everyone
admired their size and beauty. Then Zitu appointed two men to carry each
tusk. “Everyone take turns,” the chief said.
As they marched, Nomusa began to feel very tired and thirsty. Her head
ached and throbbed, and although the day was not hot, she felt as if she
were burning. And how unbearably thirsty she was!
Insect bites and sores on her body which she had received along the way,
and to which she had paid little attention, now seemed very troublesome.
Still, she was determined that she would not make Zitu regret taking her
on this hunt. Not a word would she say about being thirsty and tired.
But she had lost interest in elephants and in anything that was to be
seen along the trail. Her only thought was of her longing for water and
a place to lie down. How she wished she were with her mother. Makanya
would be sure to know what to do to make her feel better.
Finally Nomusa could go no farther. She would have to stop no matter
what happened. The others could go on without her.
Nomusa lay down on a grassy slope, hidden by the long grass. She closed
her eyes. The hunters filed past without knowing she was lying there.
How long she lay there Nomusa did not know. She must have fallen asleep.
She lay like a stone on the earth; then she became dimly aware of
someone bending over her and saying, “Are you sick, Nomusa?” The voice
sounded far away.
Nomusa opened her eyes. “Oh, Damasi,” she said weakly, “I am very tired,
and so thirsty.”
“We have come to a little stream, not far from here, where we are all
bathing and resting. Come,” he urged.
“You were good to come back for me,” murmured Nomusa.
“It was not I who thought of it first,” admitted Damasi. “While we were
sitting at the stream your father suddenly missed you and asked me to go
back and look for you. Let us go. I shall help you.”
When they came to the hunters, Damasi took Nomusa directly to her
father. “Sit here,” Zitu said. “Damasi, bring water.”
Out of a pouch in his belt Zitu took some powdered herbs, which he mixed
with water. It was a bitter drink, and Nomusa shuddered as she swallowed
it.
“Now rest,” her father said gently.
As she drank more water Nomusa began to grow comfortably warm, and her
cold sweat turned to warm perspiration. “Ah, that is well,” said her
father as he felt her brow. “You will feel better now. I think you did
not chew the elephant meat well enough. The first time I ate elephant
meat I felt ill, too.” It comforted Nomusa to hear this.
Before long Nomusa felt quite strong again; she was ready to get up and
go along. When Zitu saw this, he gave the signal to start.
“It is not very far from here where we left the first elephant,” he
said.
Nomusa kept a sharp lookout, hoping to be the first to see it. But it
was Zitu’s keen eyes that found the animal. The chief stopped, frowning.
“_Hau!_” he cried. “What is this?”
[Illustration: [Men]]
There, swarming over the elephant like black ants, were many tiny dark
people. Who were they and what were they doing on her father’s elephant?
Nomusa wondered. There would certainly be trouble now. Nomusa saw the
faces of her father and the other hunters fill with anger. Chief Zitu
shouted, “We killed this elephant! It belongs to us!”
The small people answered in a storm of words none of the Zulus
understood. Threateningly they picked up their toylike bows and arrows.
The Zulu hunters raised their spears, ready to use them at a word from
their chief. Nomusa was excited and afraid too. There would surely be a
terrible fight.
But Zitu spoke to them again, in a quieter tone. He made signs with his
hands, saying that he and his men must have the tusks, but the little
people could have the rest of the elephant. At last they understood, and
they laid down their weapons, to the great relief of all. The Zulus,
too, dropped their weapons on the ground and slowly approached the dead
elephant.
The small people began cutting open the huge animal. As Nomusa watched,
she saw how carefully they pulled out the eyelashes and the long hairs
from the elephant’s ears. They seemed to treasure these especially. Some
of them were cutting off chunks of elephant meat and eating it raw. How
sick they will be! thought Nomusa.
Full of curiosity about these small people, Nomusa drew near her father
and asked, “My father, who are these strange people? They do not seem at
all like us.”
“They are Pygmies, who live in the forest here,” Zitu replied. “Only
once before have I ever met any, and that was when we had gone on a hunt
ten sleeps away. These Pygmies have wandered a long distance from their
home, far to the north.”
Nomusa kept her eyes fixed on the fascinating little people. She noticed
that the tallest among them was just a little taller than she was. They
were lighter in color than the Zulus, and much hairier.
While the hunters were hacking out the elephant’s tusks, Nomusa stayed
close to the Pygmies so she could learn as much as possible about them.
They wore nothing but a small flap of eland skin below their fat bellies
and had no ornaments of any kind. To Nomusa they looked very drab and
bare without beads or bracelets. Their arms seemed too long for their
bodies; their legs were short; their feet were very large. But their
toes were the most remarkable of all. They were so long that they looked
more like fingers than toes. How wonderful they must be for climbing
trees! thought Nomusa.
The Pygmies moved quickly and seemed to have a natural cleverness in
doing things. Nomusa felt much attracted to the little people when she
saw how merry and playful they were, how helpful and kind to each other.
Some of them had made a fire and were smoking large chunks of elephant
meat on pointed sticks. Others crawled inside the elephant and cut out
the heart and liver, handing them to others on the outside.
After a while Nomusa noticed that from time to time a few Pygmies would
disappear into the forest, carrying smoked meat on long sticks. She
wondered where they went. Perhaps her father would let her follow them.
But this was no time to ask for a favor. Zitu was busy, and he did not
like working with so many Pygmies swarming about him. They got in his
way so that it was difficult to move without bumping into one of them.
The little people were as curious about the Zulus as Nomusa was about
the Pygmies.
When she saw her father looking more cheerful, Nomusa went to him and
said, “My father, I am very curious about these small people and how
they live. May I follow one of them when he goes into the forest?”
Zitu was silent for a moment, and Nomusa thought he was angry at her
foolish request. But he only turned his head and called: “Sikhulumi!
Come!”
Sikhulumi came quickly, and Zitu said: “My daughter wants to see where
the Pygmies live. Go with her and look after her. You know a little of
their language.”
Sikhulumi nodded gravely. The tall hunter was pleased and proud that the
chief entrusted him with such an errand, especially after his
recklessness of the day before.
Zitu added, smiling: “Nomusa seems very much interested in these little
people. Perhaps you can find her a husband among them.”
Sikhulumi laughed, and Nomusa made a face.
As one of the Pygmies started off with a load, Zitu tapped his shoulder.
Smiling, he pointed to Nomusa. The Pygmy grinned, looking at Nomusa with
great interest; but they could see he did not understand what was meant.
Sikhulumi said a few words in the Pygmy language. The Pygmy finally
smiled and nodded his head. He would guide them to the place where his
people lived.
[Illustration: [Men]]
[Illustration: [Huts]]