As the hunters approached the kraal, those who had remained behind
rushed out to meet them. The four huge ivory tusks were exclaimed over
and admired.
“These are the finest tusks I have ever seen,” said an old man, touching
them with his hand. “They will be worth much in exchange.”
Nomusa ran forward to greet her mother and to hug Themba joyously and
dance him up and down.
“What stories I have to tell you, Themba! And here is a present for
you,” Nomusa added, putting the large beetle the Pygmy woman had given
her into his fat little hands.
Sisiwe squeezed through the crowds, carrying Dube on her shoulder. The
little monkey looked frightened at the crowds of people and the noise.
Had he forgotten her, Nomusa wondered? She greeted Sisiwe affectionately
and then spoke to Dube.
At the sound of her voice, Dube was all aquiver. When he saw her he
strained forward. With one leap he was in Nomusa’s arms, chattering
“Tchirk? Tchirk?” as if to ask her why she had stayed away so long.
“He still loves you best,” Sisiwe said, a little sadly.
“But you may play with him as often as you want,” Nomusa said. “I shall
not forget what good care you have taken of him, my sister.”
Nomusa soon realized that she was indeed at home, for she heard her
mother calling from their hut. “Nomusa! Fetch water!”
[Illustration: [Children]]
As she walked to the stream she was followed by a crowd of girls, all
suddenly having to fetch water for their mothers. Nomusa was kept busy
answering dozens of questions. The girls were especially interested in
hearing about the Pygmies, and they laughed uproariously when Nomusa
told about the Pygmy who had asked her if she was married.
It took much longer than usual to fetch water on this exciting day. By
the time they returned, everyone was busy preparing for the evening
feast in celebration of the successful hunt and the safe return of the
hunters.
A huge stack of brushwood was being piled up outside the kraal to make a
fire. Over this fire a bullock would be roasted, together with mealie
cobs. Soon Nomusa’s brothers began returning from the pasture with their
mothers’ cows. They had to return earlier today to help with the
preparations for the evening.
Nomusa rushed to greet her brothers. “Oh, Mdingi, Kangata, how much I
have to tell you! Put the cows in the cattlefold and hurry back!”
Soon her brothers sat beside Nomusa while she told about the snake that
had swallowed the spotted deer, the fascinating Pygmies, the lions she
had seen, and finally of her adventure in the pit. Her brothers
listened, spellbound.
“Think if the leopard had been alive!” Kangata said, frightened at the
very thought.
Nomusa smiled at him. “Here is a present for you, Kangata,” she said.
“The Pygmy told me this elephant-hair necklace would bring the wearer
good luck.”
Kangata put on the necklace, marveling at Nomusa’s generosity. Mdingi
rose.
“Your stories are exciting, my sister,” he said. “I want to hear more
soon. But now I must milk our mother’s cows.”
“Wait—come with me to the hut first,” Nomusa said. “I have something for
you, too.”
When they got to the hut, Nomusa picked up the leopard skin, which she
had asked Sihkulumi to remove carefully for her. She handed it to
Mdingi.
The skin was a very beautiful one, and Mdingi was speechless with
happiness.
“It is too much,” he managed to say, finally.
“I am happy to give it to you,” Nomusa answered softly. She was very
glad it pleased him so much, because she knew how sad he had felt about
not going on the elephant hunt.
Mdingi continued to gaze at his treasure and feel it with his fingers.
“I have another present for you,” Nomusa added. “It is a different kind
of present, but maybe you can use it.” She told him the story of the
wounded elephant that had attacked Sihkulumi and of their father’s
courage and daring.
“If I could make songs, like you,” Nomusa said to her brother, “I should
make a great song about this.”
Mdingi’s face had a kind of shining look that Nomusa had seen before.
She thought he was seeing in his mind the heroic scene Nomusa had
described to him, and the words of a song were already clamoring to be
spoken.
Mdingi turned to go, clutching the leopard skin to him. “Thank you,
Nomusa!” he said. “Thank you, thank you!”
The African moon shone big and full and yellow. The outlines of trees
were dark against the sky, and the leaping flames of the fire danced
higher and higher.
The people had eaten and drunk all they could hold, and now they sat in
a great circle around the fire, listening as different singers chanted
stories about the great Zulu hunters and warriors. Most of the stories
had been told over and over, but the people always wanted to hear them
again.
Only Nomusa was not surprised when Mdingi stood up and walked out into
the open space. Facing his people, he began to sing in a clear strong
voice:
“_High in the hills roams the mighty elephant, lord of the forest;
The trees quiver as he passes, and the earth trembles under his terrible
feet._”
His father looked astonished as Mdingi went on, telling of the
preparations for the elephant hunt, the great care the chief took for
the safety of his men. A teller of tales was greatly to be admired, and
Zitu had not realized that his son possessed such talents.
All the people listened eagerly, and Nomusa’s heart swelled with pride
in her brother. How thrilling it was to hear the story told so
eloquently! Everyone was tense with excitement as Mdingi sang of
Sihkulumi,
“_the hunter with eyes like an eagle,_”
who had first seen the wounded elephant in the gathering dusk. Knowing
no fear, the hunter had leaped forward. But the vengeful elephant had
only feigned death, and attacked the hunter.
Then came the heroic climax, and Mdingi did it full justice in his song.
When he finished, the people cheered the singer loudly. They shouted,
“_Hau! Hau!_” for their brave and kind leader. Yo! It was a day long to
be remembered.
[Illustration: [Family]]
Mdingi stood beside Zitu, and his father’s hand rested on the boy’s
shoulder affectionately. Zitu beckoned to Nomusa.
“Come, my little hunter!” he said. “I think perhaps it was you who
brought such good luck to all of us!”
Nomusa’s face flushed with pride and embarrassment as she listened to
her father’s praise. She was glad when she could slip back among the
others.
Now Damasi stood beside her, smiling. “Is this not a wonderful
celebration?” he asked.
Nomusa agreed it was indeed.
“I see Mdingi is wearing a new leopard skin,” Damasi went on, softly.
“And Kangata has a necklace of elephant hair. Did you keep anything for
yourself?”
Nomusa shook her head. “I do not need anything. After all, I had the
hunt.”
“Perhaps you will find new trophies on next year’s hunt,” suggested
Damasi.
“Oh, I shall not go next year!” Nomusa said. “Next year Mdingi will go.”
Damasi looked at her keenly. “Perhaps that is best,” he admitted. “But I
don’t think Mdingi will bring back a greater story, no matter how many
hunts he goes on.”
“Oh, it _was_ wonderful!” Nomusa cried. “It is true that nothing could
be more exciting than that elephant hunt.”
The fire was dying down, but its flames still illumined Nomusa’s small,
dark, eager face. Damasi looked at her in silence. He was thinking that
life would always be interesting and exciting to Nomusa.
[Illustration: [Children]]
_This book was set in 14 point Baskerville type on the Fotosetter at
Advance Lithographing Company, Chicago. It was lithographed on a
Warren’s Olde Style Antique Wove sheet at Advance Lithographing Company,
and bound in Bancroft Leaf Rust Natural Finish cloth at John F. Cuneo
Company, Chicago._