A RECONNAISSANCE
"Well, General, what's doing next?"
It was the morning after the great hunt, and they had just finished a
delicious breakfast of roasted calves' feet and bananas. The explorer
was puffing at his briar luxuriously, and turned to the doctor.
"Guru says that the skins are on the way now, Doctor. How long will it
take you to get them in shape to go back?"
"Ten days," returned the German, whose cases were all piled in readiness
before an open space.
"Need us here?"
"No. Get out and keep those boys from bothering me."
"Good!" laughed the explorer, and turned lazily to Charlie. "Feel like
starting out this morning? I want to push ahead on horseback and trace
out the route for the wagons. I've got it pretty well lined out now, but
we've got to make sure about provisions and all that."
"I'm willing," announced Charlie, and Jack nodded unconcernedly.
So, just as the Masai and Kikuyu, who had worked all night, came in with
the skins of the slain elephants, the three rode out together. The
Indians were highly disappointed that they were not to go along, but the
explorer did not wish to be bothered with them, and they would be
useless on this excursion.
Schoverling had provided himself with government maps showing the
villages, and the best route across the plateau and through the hills
had been traced out for him. On second thought, however, he sent back
for Gholab Singh, who knew most of the native dialects from his years of
residence in the country, and left the camp in charge of Guru instead.
At noon they struck into the caravan track from the north, and stopped
at each village in passing, where Gholab made inquiries. They found that
there was no lack of chickens, and wild fowl might be had on every hand
for the shooting. As for vegetables, every village had its mealie patch,
yams, bananas, a beet-like plant, and other greens which none of the
three recognized, but which Gholab assured them were excellent eating.
Besides, there were quantities of fish in the streams. On the whole,
Charlie was amazed at the readiness with which food could be had; while
to Jack, used to a hard-earned rabbit or trap-line in the snows, the
quantity of game was astounding.
"I don't think we'll have any trouble living off the land," chuckled the
General that night. They had camped beside a mountain stream. In place
of tents, their hand axes lopped off a brush shelter in short order. A
trout-like fish was plentiful in the stream, and half a dozen of these
were soon broiling. These, with fried bananas and tea, made a generous
meal.
"Can't see the sense o' fetching them traps," grunted Jack. "Better
leave 'em behind when we start. What good are they?"
"I don't know, Jack. Can't tell what we'll strike, though."
"Where does this caravan route go to?" asked Charlie. "This looks as if
it was deserted."
"Oh, a caravan of camels and horses comes down about once a year from
the lakes up north, toward the Abyssinian border. We only follow it over
the plateau with the wagons."
There was no doubt that the route, which existed on the map only, was
practicable for the light wagons. The next day they were among the
hills, in high altitudes, and here the game almost vanished for the next
two days. The villages of the natives were scattered, but those that
they found had more cultivated land near by than the others, which made
up for the scarcity of game. The wagons were much under-loaded, and were
taken more to bring back what might be found north of the Lorian swamp
than for anything else.
"Seems to me," said Charlie on the third day, as he thawed out a gourd
full of water that had frozen overnight, "that we could load up the
wagons with green stuff when we go through here. That last village we
came through was plumb chuck full o' pumpkins."
"Melons, you mean," laughed Jack. "I dug into one. There was some
squash, though, in the back fields. How far we going, General?"
Schoverling consulted his pocket-map and compass before replying.
"We ought to be near the station of the commissioner of the district
now. If we don't strike it by night we may as well go back. I've found
out what we came for."
About noon, however, they came to a long unpainted frame building with
corrugated iron roof, set in the midst of a grove of small trees. At the
rear were stables and a great corral of wire netting, in which grazed a
herd of ostriches. As they rode up to the door one or two natives came
out, and a khaki-clad Englishman with shoulder-straps rushed out to
receive them.
"Hello!" laughed Schoverling as he shook hands. "This is the
commissioner--Captain Yonge?"
"Yes--and this is the famous Schoverling, I'll wager," smiled the
clean-shaven officer. "But where's von Hofe? I got word from down
country to watch out for him."
Matters were soon explained, and they joined Yonge at lunch. An hour
later a dozen trim King's African Rifles cantered up--Zulus all, under
command of Yonge, who maintained order through two hundred miles of
savagery.
"Say, the old M. P. ain't in it with this!" said Jack that evening, as
he and Charlie wandered out to inspect the ostrich farm. "Hear that yarn
he told about nabbing those ju-ju murderers last year, single-handed.
No wonder he got a D. S. O. for it!"
"And they do it all with native troops, too," added Charlie
thoughtfully. "You've got to hand it to the British for governing by
force of character, right enough. Wonder what the country gets like on
the other side of this plateau. Let's find out."
But they found out little. Captain Yonge said that beyond the Guaso
Nyero, in the north, the region was practically unexplored. After the
great river was left behind there were deserts, strange tribes, great
morasses, and the "going" was exceedingly "tough."
"Did you ever hear of a Lake Quilqua?" asked Charlie.
"Often," and the commissioner chuckled. "But, as you Americans say,
there's 'nothing in it.' These natives will make up all kinds of yarns,
simply to amuse us."
Yonge himself had tried to penetrate the country to the northeast, but
had found it impracticable, as he could not get away for very long.
Other explorers had sheered off to the easier country to south and
northwest, but he agreed that if they wanted a big bull, a rogue, they
would stand a better chance of getting one in there than anywhere else.
"When you stop with the wagons," he said, "I'll give you some
water-casks. They may come in handy, as I know from experience."
All remained the next day, highly interested in the court of justice
being held over a dispute between two villages. The little plain on
which lay the commissioner's station was not cultivated, but it lay in
the central part of his district, and was eminently suited for ostrich
farming, which was his hobby.
They set out on a leisurely return to the little safari, accompanied for
a few miles by the soldierly Zulus. They were well received by the
natives, for except in a few spots of Africa, there is to-day nothing
but respect for the whites; the dangers of early explorations have
largely passed away under the influence of the far-reaching prestige of
civilization. The natives are as savage as ever, but they have tasted
the retribution of English and German justice, and have little liking
for it.
The four trotted along, Gholab making arrangements with the natives at
each village to give them a large supply of fruit and vegetables, but
they did no shooting as it was possible to get sheep, goats, or fowl
from the natives and fish from the streams and pools. They had timed
their ride to get back to the doctor in the evening, and on the morning
of their last day's march they came upon a large party of natives
setting off into the jungle.
"Want to go along?" smiled the explorer. "Judging from their primitive
digging implements, they're going to make an elephant pit."
"You bet!" cried the boys. Slipping from their horses, which were left
in charge of Gholab Singh, all three joined the natives, who received
them with delight, and all set off along an old elephant track.
"Guess they think we'll bring 'em good luck," grinned Jack. "Got your
camera, Chuck?"
Charlie fortunately had brought it, and an hour later he put it into
active operation, to the curiosity and childish amusement of the
negroes. They had stopped in a little open space full of fresh spoor and
elephant signs, and a score of natives were instantly at work clearing
off the ground at three points. The boys were amazed at the rapidity
with which the work was accomplished with the primitive implements.
Chanting a loud, monotonous chorus, the natives threw themselves into
the work and speedily had three pits started. These were about four feet
wide and twelve long at the top.
"It's against the law for them to kill elephants," said Schoverling,
"but they pay little enough heed to that. There are hundreds of these
pits scattered between here and Kenia."
"How do they watch them all?" asked Charlie. "They must have an awful
time keeping track of their trap-line!"
"They don't watch them," laughed the explorer. "They wait till they see
the vultures and jackals heading somewhere, and trail along. An elephant
lives for days after he is trapped, for you'll see that the pits narrow
down at the bottom, and his feet are wedged in so that he can't move."
"He must be pretty ripe by the time they get to him," returned Jack
disgustedly.
"They don't care for that. These Ndorobo are little better than carrion
feeders anyway, and once an elephant is caught a whole village is
stocked in meat for a long time."
As the holes were dug deeper, others of the natives carried off the
dirt, scattering it carefully in the depths of the jungle. The boys
secured some excellent views of the proceedings, but they were unable to
remain for the entire digging. The finished pit would be about ten feet
in depth, and at the bottom scarcely a foot wide. Fortunately for white
hunters these pits were not staked, as after a week or two the slight
covering of sticks, leaves and dirt is overlaid with vines and
vegetation that completely conceals it from sight. Indeed, they had
passed more than one pit on their way.
A guide was sent back with them when they left the scene of operation. A
little after noon as they neared the safari they came upon a village
which was in great excitement. The day before, a man had been killed and
another badly gored by a bull buffalo, and the wounded man was then in
camp under the doctor's care. The villagers appealed to the white men to
kill the buffalo, and the latter needed little urging.
"You want to be careful," said Schoverling as they advanced on foot with
some of the men. "A buffalo is about the most dangerous of beasts in
these parts. Shoot to cripple him, never mind the head."
The buffalo was located in a patch of reeds and long swamp-grass near a
pool only a few miles distant. Further approach was impossible, and they
remained on dry ground while the natives tried to beat out the animal.
In this they were all too successful. With a crash, the powerful beast
swept through the reeds and charged a group of warriors, who scattered
to shelter with yells and splashings.
"All right, Charlie," said Schoverling, quietly.
Charlie put a bullet behind the shoulder just in time to save a Kikuyu
man. The bull whirled like a flash, and as he did so two more broke
cover and charged with a bellow. Jack halted one with a stunning bullet
that shattered against its skull. The explorer dropped the other,
breaking its shoulder at the first shot.
Then the other came on full tilt, with lowered head. Charlie emptied his
magazine at the one he had first wounded, and all four shots took
effect, breaking the animal's back and killing him instantly. Jack's
bull got within fifty yards of them before the boy fired again,
imitating the action of the explorer with the bull elephant. Taking
careful aim, he pulled trigger when he was sure of his shot, and the
bull crashed down into the swamp-reeds badly wounded and seemingly
helpless.
The natives darted forward with yells of triumph, but with a final
effort the brute clambered up and nearly caught them. Jack put a bullet
through its eye, however, that finished it, and the hunt was over. The
natives went into ecstacies of delight, dancing around and thanking the
three hunters exuberantly.
"That is not useless slaughter," said Schoverling as they returned to
the horses. "These buffalo are hard on the natives, breaking into their
mealie patches and tearing things up badly. They will charge without the
least provocation, and the natives can't stand before them. We did a
good turn to this village, certainly."
They remounted and rode on, but their halts had delayed them, and it was
nearly dark when they finally rode into the safari and were greeted
with loud yells by the Masai, while the big German came forward with
smiling countenance and bade them welcome home again.