BIRTH OF THREE LITTLE NJEGOS
One day, three tiny little njegos were born, and the old ones were
delighted.
They watched over their little ones with great care, and when Mamma
Njego would go in search of prey, Papa Njego remained behind to take
care of the little ones. Now and then he had a hard time, for they cried
when they wanted Mamma Njego to nurse them. But mamma wanted an outing
sometimes, and had to go after prey.
“What made you so late?” Papa Njego would sometimes say when his mate
returned.
“If I am late,” she would reply, “it is because I have had a hard time
to find prey,” or, “Well, dear, I am famished; I found nothing.”
When Papa Njego went out and was successful, he would bring food to his
mate, for she had to be nearly all the time with their dear little ones.
So the old leopards were kept busy. After a while they would leave the
little njegos alone, saying, “We can leave them now, for they are still
afraid to go out of our lair when we are not with them.”
The little njegos grew fast, feeding only from the breast of their
mother, and began to roam around their lair. One day, as their parents
were looking at them playing about, the mother said to her mate: “Look
how big our little ones are! How much they have grown lately! We must
soon give them a taste of blood.”
Two or three nights afterward both were successful, and returned each
with a gazelle, and almost at the same time.
[Illustration: [Leopards]]
They tore the gazelles to pieces, and called their little ones out, and
put before them the pieces they had torn off. The little njegos looked
at them first, and as if they did not seem to care, for they did not
know what blood was, or raw flesh. They came and smelt the meat, but did
not lick it, and went back to be nursed by their mamma.
The next day the njegos went after prey and were again successful. Again
they tore off pieces of the flesh and put them before the little ones.
This time they smelled the meat and licked it two or three times, to the
great joy of the old ones. The third time meat was put before them, they
licked the meat until no vestige of blood was left on it.
When their parents saw this, they were delighted and said: “Our little
ones are doing well. They now enjoy the taste of blood. They are going
to be true njegos.”
The little njegos, who had now licked blood, wanted more, and were very
restless and cried for it, though they could not yet talk the njego
language, for they were too young. The next day Papa Njego was luckier,
and brought a young kambi to their lair. This time the eyes of the
little njegos fairly glared when they saw the bloody pieces of meat, and
they precipitated themselves upon them and licked off the blood with
great gusto, for they loved blood more every time they tasted it, to the
great delight of the old njegos.
Soon after, as their teeth grew, they began not only to lick the blood,
but to eat the meat. One day the big njego said to his mate: “Our little
ones are getting big, and soon we shall have to work harder and harder
to feed them, for their appetites increase more and more as they grow
larger and larger.” Then he rubbed his head against her neck to show how
much he loved her.
The time arrived when the little njegos were able to follow their
mother, and as they grew older they understood every day, more and more,
the ways of the njegos.
One day, one of the little njegos pounced upon a ncheri (gazelle), and
when his little brother and sister came to enjoy the prey with him, he
growled fiercely, for he did not want them to have any of it.
But Mamma Njego made peace among them, tore the poor ncheri into pieces,
and all three had a peaceful meal, while she was looking on. After they
were satisfied, she ate the rest, and then, as the day was soon to dawn,
she returned to her lair with the little ones.
Her mate was waiting for her. She said to him: “One of the little ones
has killed a ncheri. Soon they will be able to take care of themselves.
Then we shall not have to work so hard. Look at them, and at their
little muzzles and paws, red with blood.”
Time went on, and the little njegos had grown big, and were able to hunt
for themselves, and finally left their parents. By this time almost all
the animals for a long distance round the land of njegos had fled away
to escape the fate of those who had been eaten up. The kambis, the
ncheris, and other animals would say to their kindred, “The njegos have
come to our land; let us migrate to some other parts of the great
forest.”
So the old njegos starved. Night after night they had no prey. The big
one said to his mate, “We must leave this country if we do not wish to
die of hunger.”
“Yes, let us leave this horrid country,” she replied. “See how thin we
have become for want of food.” And they looked at each other and saw
their ribs showing through their beautiful spotted skins.
They departed, but, as the forest was depopulated for miles around, they
got a very scanty subsistence, just enough to sustain life.
They came, indeed, to a worse country still, for the formidable
bashikouay ants had been in the land a few days before in countless
millions, and their vast army had attacked all the living creatures that
came in their way, and devoured many, and all the rest had fled for
their lives, and no creature walking or crawling on earth was to be
seen. Hard indeed was the lot of the two njegos. Death by starvation
stared them in the face.
In that plight, Mrs. Njego said to her mate: “Now that we have raised
our young, let us separate for good, according to the custom of our
kind. When we are far apart, we shall get food more easily.”
They parted with great friendliness and said, “Perhaps in the course of
our lives we shall meet again.” They went in opposite directions and
lived alone, prowling every night in search of prey, and resting often
during the day on branches of trees.