THE LION AND THE AXE
Next day early I left the town of the People of the Axe, having bid a
formal farewell to Umslopogaas, saying in a voice that all could hear
that as the rivers were still flooded, I proposed to trek to the
northern parts of Zululand and trade there until the weather was
better. Our private arrangement, however, was that on the night of the
next full moon, which happened about four weeks later, we should meet
at the eastern foot of a certain great, flat-topped mountain known to
both of us, which stands to the north of Zululand but well beyond its
borders.
So northward I trekked, slowly to spare my oxen, trading as I went. The
details do not matter, but as it happened I met with more luck upon
that journey than had come my way for many a long year. Although I
worked on credit since nearly all my goods were sold, as owing to my
repute I could always do in Zululand, I made some excellent bargains in
cattle, and to top up with, bought a large lot of ivory so cheap that
really I think it must have been stolen.
All of this, cattle and ivory together, I sent to Natal in charge of a
white friend of mine whom I could trust, where the stuff was sold very
well indeed, and the proceeds paid to my account, the “trade”
equivalents being duly remitted to the native vendors.
In fact, my good fortune was such that if I had been superstitious like
Hans, I should have been inclined to attribute it to the influence of
Zikali’s “Great Medicine.” As it was I knew it to be one of the chances
of a trader’s life and accepted it with a shrug as often as I had been
accustomed to do in the alternative of losses.
Only one untoward incident happened to me. Of a sudden a party of the
King’s soldiers under the command of a well-known _Induna_ or
Councillor, arrived and insisted upon searching my waggon, as I thought
at first in connection with that cheap lot of ivory which had already
departed to Natal. However, never a word did they say of ivory, nor
indeed was a single thing belonging to me taken by them.
I was very indignant and expressed my feelings to the _Induna_ in no
measured terms. He on his part was most apologetic, and explained that
what he did he was obliged to do “by the King’s orders.” Also he let it
slip that he was seeking for a certain “evil-doer” who, it was thought,
might be with me without my knowing his real character, and as this
“evil-doer,” whose name he would not mention, was a very fierce man, it
had been necessary to bring a strong guard with him.
Now I bethought me of Umslopogaas, but merely looked blank and shrugged
my shoulders, saying that I was not in the habit of consorting with
evil-doers.
Still unsatisfied, the _Induna_ questioned me as to the places where I
had been during this journey of mine in the Zulu country. I told him
with the utmost frankness, mentioning among others—because I was sure
that already he knew all my movements well—the town of the People of
the Axe.
Then he asked me if I had seen its Chief, a certain Umslopogaas or
Bulalio. I answered, Yes, that I had met him there for the first time
and thought him a very remarkable man.
With this the _Induna_ agreed emphatically, saying that perhaps I did
not know _how_ remarkable. Next he asked me where he was now, to which
I replied that I had not the faintest idea, but I presumed in his kraal
where I had left him. The _Induna_ explained that he was _not_ in his
kraal; that he had gone away leaving one Lousta and his own head wife
Monazi to administer the chieftainship for a while, because, as he
stated, he wished to make a journey.
I yawned as if weary of the subject of this chief, and indeed of the
whole business. Then the _Induna_ said that I must come to the King and
repeat to him all the words that I had spoken. I replied that I could
not possibly do so as, having finished my trading, I had arranged to go
north to shoot elephants. He answered that elephants lived a long while
and would not die while I was visiting the King.
Then followed an argument which grew heated and ended in his declaring
that to the King I must come, even if he had to take me there by force.
I sat silent, wondering what to say or do and leant forward to pick a
piece of wood out of the fire wherewith to light my pipe. Now my shirt
was not buttoned and as it chanced this action caused the ivory image
of Zikali that hung about my neck to appear between its edges. The
_Induna_ saw it and his eyes grew big with fear.
“Hide that!” he whispered, “hide that, lest it should bewitch me.
Indeed, already I feel as though I were being bewitched. It is the
Great Medicine itself.”
“That will certainly happen to you,” I said, yawning again, “if you
insist upon my taking a week’s trek to visit the Black One, or
interfere with me in any way now or afterwards,” and I lifted my hand
towards the talisman, looking him steadily in the face.
“Perhaps after all, Macumazahn, it is not necessary for you to visit
the King,” he said in an uncertain voice. “I will go and make report to
him that you know nothing of this evil-doer.”
And he went in such a hurry that he never waited to say good-bye. Next
morning before the dawn I went also and trekked steadily until I was
clear of Zululand.
In due course and without accident, for the weather, which had been so
wet, had now turned beautifully fine and dry, we came to the great,
flat-topped hill that I have mentioned, trekking thither over high,
sparsely-timbered veld that offered few difficulties to the waggon.
This peculiar hill, known to such natives as lived in those parts by a
long word that means “Hut-with-a-flat-roof,” is surrounded by forest,
for here trees grow wonderfully well, perhaps because of the water that
flows from its slopes. Forcing our way through this forest, which was
full of game, I reached its eastern foot and there camped, five days
before that night of full moon on which I had arranged to meet
Umslopogaas.
That I should meet him I did not in the least believe, firstly because
I thought it very probable that he would have changed his mind about
coming, and secondly for the excellent reason that I expected he had
gone to call upon the King against his will, as I had been asked to do.
It was evident to me that he was up to his eyes in some serious plot
against Cetywayo, in which he was the old dwarf Zikali’s partner, or
rather, tool; also that his plot had been betrayed, with the result
that he was “wanted” and would have little chance of passing safely
through Zululand. So taking one thing with another I imagined that I
had seen his grim face and his peculiar, ancient-looking axe for the
last time.
To tell the truth I was glad. Although at first the idea had appealed
to me a little, I did not want to make this wild-goose, or wild-witch
chase through unknown lands to seek for a totally fabulous person who
dwelt far across the Zambesi. I had, as it were, been forced into the
thing, but if Umslopogaas did not appear, my obligations would be at an
end and I should return to Natal at my leisure. First, however, I would
do a little shooting since I found that a large herd of elephants
haunted this forest. Indeed I was tempted to attack them at once, but
did not do so since, as Hans pointed out, if we were going north it
would be difficult to carry the ivory, especially if we had to leave
the waggon, and I was too old a hunter to desire to kill the great
beasts for the fun of the thing.
So I just sat down and rested, letting the oxen feed throughout the
hours of light on the rich grasses which grew upon the bottom-most
slopes of the big mountain where we were camped by a stream, not more
than a hundred yards above the timber line.
At some time or other there had been a native village at this spot;
probably the Zulus had cleaned it out in long past years, for I found
human bones black with age lying in the long grass. Indeed, the
cattle-kraal still remained and in such good condition that by piling
up a few stones here and there on the walls and closing the narrow
entrances with thorn bushes, we could still use it to enclose our oxen
at night. This I did for fear lest there should be lions about, though
I had neither seen nor heard them.
So the days went by pleasantly enough with lots to eat, since whenever
we wanted meat I had only to go a few yards to shoot a fat buck at a
spot whither they trekked to drink in the evening, till at last came
the time of full moon. Of this I was also glad, since, to tell the
truth, I had begun to be bored. Rest is good, but for a man who has
always led an active life too much of it is very bad, for then he
begins to think and thought in large doses is depressing.
Of the fire-eating Umslopogaas there was no sign, so I made up my mind
that on the morrow I would start after those elephants and when I had
shot—or failed to shoot—some of them, return to Natal. I felt unable to
remain idle any more; it never was my gift to do so, which is perhaps
why I employ my ample leisure here in England in jotting down such
reminiscences as these.
Well, the full moon came up in silver glory and after I had taken a
good look at her for luck, also at all the veld within sight, I turned
in. An hour or two later some noise from the direction of the
cattle-kraal woke me up. As it did not recur, I thought that I would go
to sleep again. Then an uneasy thought came to me that I could not
remember having looked to see whether the entrance was properly closed,
as it was my habit to do. It was the same sort of troublesome doubt
which in a civilised house makes a man get out of bed and go along the
cold passages to the sitting-room to see whether he has put out the
lamp. It always proves that he _has_ put it out, but that does not
prevent a repetition of the performance next time the perplexity
arises.
I reflected that perhaps the noise was caused by the oxen pushing their
way through the carelessly-closed entrance, and at any rate that I had
better go to see. So I slipped on my boots and a coat and went without
waking Hans or the boys, only taking with me a loaded, single-barrelled
rifle which I used for shooting small buck, but no spare cartridges.
Now in front of the gateway of the cattle-kraal, shading it, grew a
single big tree of the wild fig order. Passing under this tree I looked
and saw that the gateway was quite securely closed, as now I remembered
I had noted at sunset. Then I started to go back but had not stepped
more than two or three paces when, in the bright moonlight, I saw the
head of my smallest ox, a beast of the Zulu breed, suddenly appear over
the top of the wall. About this there would have been nothing
particularly astonishing, had it not been for the fact that this head
belonged to a dead animal, as I could tell from the closed eyes and the
hanging tongue.
“What in the name of goodness——” I began to myself, when my reflections
were cut short by the appearance of another head, that of one of the
biggest lions I ever saw, which had the ox by the throat, and with the
enormous strength that is given to these creatures, by getting its back
beneath the body, was deliberately hoisting it over the wall, to drag
it away to devour at its leisure.
There was the brute within twelve feet of me, and what is more, it saw
me as I saw it, and stopped, still holding the ox by the throat.
“What a chance for Allan Quatermain! Of course he shot it dead,” one
can fancy anyone saying who knows me by repute, also that by the gift
of God I am handy with a rifle. Well, indeed, it should have been, for
even with the small-bore piece that I carried, a bullet ought to have
pierced through the soft parts of its throat to the brain and to have
killed that lion as dead as Julius Cæsar. Theoretically the thing was
easy enough; indeed, although I was startled for a moment, by the time
that I had the rifle to my shoulder I had little fear of the issue,
unless there was a miss-fire, especially as the beast seemed so
astonished that it remained quite still.
Then the unexpected happened as generally it does in life, particularly
in hunting, which, in my case, is a part of life. I fired, but by
misfortune the bullet struck the tip of the horn of that confounded ox,
which tip either was or at that moment fell in front of the spot on the
lion’s throat whereat half-unconsciously I had aimed. Result: the ball
was turned and, departing at an angle, just cut the skin of the lion’s
neck deeply enough to hurt it very much and to make it madder than all
the hatters in the world.
Dropping the ox, with a most terrific roar it came over the wall at
me—I remember that there seemed to be yards of it—I mean of the lion—in
front of which appeared a cavernous mouth full of gleaming teeth.
I skipped back with much agility, also a little to one side, because
there was nothing else to do, reflecting in a kind of inconsequent way,
that after all Zikali’s Great Medicine was not worth a curse. The lion
landed on my side of the wall and reared itself upon its hind legs
before getting to business, towering high above me but slightly to my
left.
Then I saw a strange thing. A shadow thrown by the moon flitted past
me—all I noted of it was the distorted shape of a great, lifted axe,
probably because the axe came first. The shadow fell and with it
another shadow, that of a lion’s paw dropping to the ground. Next there
was a most awful noise of roaring, and wheeling round I saw such a fray
as never I shall see again. A tall, grim, black man was fighting the
great lion, that now lacked one paw, but still stood upon its hind
legs, striking at him with the other.
The man, who was absolutely silent, dodged the blow and hit back with
the axe, catching the beast upon the breast with such weight that it
came to the ground in a lopsided fashion, since now it had only one
fore-foot on which to light.
The axe flashed up again and before the lion could recover itself, or
do anything else, fell with a crash upon its skull, sinking deep into
the head. After this all was over, for the beast’s brain was cut in
two.
“I am here at the appointed time, Macumazahn,” said Umslopogaas, for it
was he, as with difficulty he dragged his axe from the lion’s severed
skull, “to find you watching by night as it is reported that you always
do.”
“No,” I retorted, for his tone irritated me, “you are late, Bulalio,
the moon has been up some hours.”
“I said, O Macumazahn, that I would meet you on the _night_ of the full
moon, not at the rising of the moon.”
“That is true,” I replied, mollified, “and at any rate you came at a
good moment.”
“Yes,” he answered, “though as it happens in this clear light the thing
was easy to anyone who can handle an axe. Had it been darker the end
might have been different. But, Macumazahn, you are not so clever as I
thought, since otherwise you would not have come out against a lion
with a toy like that,” and he pointed to the little rifle in my hand.
“I did not know that there was a lion, Umslopogaas.”
“That is why you are not so clever as I thought, since of one sort or
another there is always a lion which wise men should be prepared to
meet, Macumazahn.”
“You are right again,” I replied.
At that moment Hans arrived upon the scene, followed at a discreet
distance by the waggon boys, and took in the situation at a glance.
“The Great Medicine of the Opener-of-Roads has worked well,” was all he
said.
“The great medicine of the Opener-of-Heads has worked better,” remarked
Umslopogaas with a little laugh and pointing to his red axe. “Never
before since she came into my keeping has _Inkosikaas_ (i.e.
‘Chieftainess,’ for so was this famous weapon named) sunk so low as to
drink the blood of beasts. Still, the stroke was a good one so she need
not be ashamed. But, Yellow Man, how comes it that you who, I have been
told, are cunning, watch your master so ill?”
“I was asleep,” stuttered Hans indignantly.
“Those who serve should never sleep,” replied Umslopogaas sternly. Then
he turned and whistled, and behold! out of the long grass that grew at
a little distance, emerged twelve great men, all of them bearing axes
and wearing cloaks of hyena skins, who saluted me by raising their
axes.
“Set a watch and skin me this beast by dawn. It will make us a mat,”
said Umslopogaas, whereon again they saluted silently and melted away.
“Who are these?” I asked.
“A few picked warriors whom I brought with me, Macumazahn. There were
one or two more, but they got lost on the way.”
Then we went to the waggon and spoke no more that night.
Next morning I told Umslopogaas of the visit I had received from the
_Induna_ of the King who wished me to come to the royal kraal. He
nodded and said,
“As it chances certain thieves attacked me on my journey, which is why
one or two of my people remain behind who will never travel again. We
made good play with those thieves; not one of them escaped,” he added
grimly, “and their bodies we threw into a river where are many
crocodiles. But their spears I brought away and I think that they are
such as the King’s guard use. If so, his search for them will be long,
since the fight took place where no man lives and we burned the shields
and trappings. Oho! he will think that the ghosts have taken them.”
That morning we trekked on fast, fearing lest a regiment searching for
these “thieves” should strike and follow our spoor. Luckily the ox that
the lion had killed was one of some spare cattle which I was driving
with me, so its loss did not inconvenience us. As we went Umslopogaas
told me that he had duly appointed Lousta and his wife Monazi to rule
the tribe during his absence, an office which they accepted doubtfully,
Monazi acting as Chieftainess and Lousta as her head _Induna_ or
Councillor.
I asked him whether he thought this wise under all the circumstances,
seeing that it had occurred to me since I made the suggestion, that
they might be unwilling to surrender power on his return, also that
other domestic complications might ensue.
“It matters little, Macumazahn,” he said with a shrug of his great
shoulders, “for of this I am sure, that I have played my part with the
People of the Axe and to stop among them would have meant my death, who
am a man betrayed. What do I care who love none and now have no
children? Still, it is true that I might have fled to Natal with the
cattle and there have led a fat and easy life. But ease and plenty I do
not desire who would live and fall as a warrior should.
“Never again, mayhap, shall I see the Ghost-Mountain where the wolves
ravened and the old Witch sits in stone waiting for the world to die,
or sleep in the town of the People of the Axe. What do I want with
wives and oxen while I have _Inkosikaas_ the Groan-maker and she is
true to me?” he added, shaking the ancient axe above his head so that
the sun gleamed upon the curved blade and the hollow gouge or point at
the back beyond the shaft socket. “Where the Axe goes, there go the
strength and virtue of the Axe, O Macumazahn.”
“It is a strange weapon,” I said.
“Aye, a strange and an old, forged far away, says Zikali, by a
warrior-wizard hundreds of years ago, a great fighter who was also the
first of smiths and who sits in the Under-world waiting for it to
return to his hand when its work is finished beneath the sun. That will
be soon, Macumazahn, since Zikali told me that I am the last Holder of
the Axe.”
“Did you then see the Opener-of-Roads?” I asked.
“Aye, I saw him. He it was who told me which way to go to escape from
Zululand. Also he laughed when he heard how the flooded rivers brought
you to my kraal, and sent you a message in which he said that the
spirit of a snake had told him that you tried to throw the Great
Medicine into a pool, but were stopped by that snake, whilst it was
still alive. This, he said, you must do no more, lest he should send
another snake to stop _you_.”
“Did he?” I replied indignantly, for Zikali’s power of seeing or
learning about things that happened at a distance puzzled and annoyed
me.
Only Hans grinned and said,
“I told you so, Baas.”
On we travelled from day to day, meeting with such difficulties and
dangers as are common on roadless veld in Africa, but no more, for the
grass was good and there was plenty of game, of which we shot what we
wanted for meat. Indeed, here in the back regions of what is known as
Portuguese South East Africa, every sort of wild animal was so numerous
that personally I wished we could turn our journey into a shooting
expedition.
But of this Umslopogaas, whom hunting bored, would not hear. In fact,
he was much more anxious than myself to carry out our original purpose.
When I asked him why, he answered because of something Zikali had told
him. What this was he would not say, except that in the country whither
we wandered he would fight a great fight and win much honour.
Now Umslopogaas was by nature a fighting man, one who took a positive
joy in battle, and like an old Norseman, seemed to think that thus only
could a man decorously die. This amazed me, a peaceful person who loves
quiet and a home. Still, I gave way, partly to please him, partly
because I hoped that we might discover something of interest, and still
more because, having once undertaken an enterprise, my pride prompted
me to see it through.
Now while he was preparing to draw his map in the ashes, or afterwards,
I forget which, Zikali had told me that when we drew near to the great
river we should come to a place on the edge of bush-veld that ran down
to the river, where a white man lived, adding, after casting his bones
and reading from them, that he thought this white man was a
“trek-Boer.” This, I should explain, means a Dutchman who has travelled
away from wherever he lived and made a home for himself in the
wilderness, as some wandering spirit and the desire to be free of
authority often prompt these people to do. Also, after another
inspection of his enchanted knuckle-bones, he had declared that
something remarkable would happen to this man or his family, while I
was visiting him. Lastly in that map he drew in the ashes, the details
of which were impressed so indelibly upon my memory, he had shown me
where I should find the dwelling of this white man, of whom and of
whose habitation doubtless he knew through the many spies who seemed to
be at the service of all witch-doctors, and more especially of Zikali,
the greatest among them.
Travelling by the sun and the compass I had trekked steadily in the
exact direction which he indicated, to find that in this useful
particular he was well named the “Opener-of-Roads,” since always before
me I found a practicable path, although to the right or to the left
there would have been none. Thus when we came to mountains, it was at a
spot where we discovered a pass; when we came to swamps it was where a
ridge of high ground ran between, and so forth. Also such tribes as we
met upon our journey always proved of a friendly character, although
perhaps the aspect of Umslopogaas and his fierce band whom, rather
irreverently, I named his twelve Apostles, had a share in inducing this
peaceful attitude.
So smooth was our progress and so well marked by water at certain
intervals, that at last I came to the conclusion that we must be
following some ancient road which at a forgotten period of history, had
run from south to north, or _vice versâ_. Or rather, to be honest, it
was the observant Hans who made this discovery from various indications
which had escaped my notice. I need not stop to detail them, but one of
these was that at certain places the water-holes on a high, rather
barren land had been dug out, and in one or more instances, lined with
stones after the fashion of an ancient well. Evidently we were
following an old trade route made, perhaps, in forgotten ages when
Africa was more civilised than it is now.
Passing over certain high, misty lands during the third week of our
trek, where frequently at this season of the year the sun never showed
itself before ten o’clock and disappeared at three or four in the
afternoon, and where twice we were held up for two whole days by dense
fog, we came across a queer nomadic people who seemed to live in
movable grass huts and to keep great herds of goats and long-tailed
sheep.
These folk ran away from us at first, but when they found that we did
them no harm, became friendly and brought us offerings of milk, also of
a kind of slug or caterpillar which they seemed to eat. Hans, who was a
great master of different native dialects, discovered a tongue, or a
mixture of tongues, in which he could make himself understood to some
of them.
They told him that in their day they had never seen a white man,
although their fathers’ fathers (an expression by which they meant
their remote ancestors) had known many of them. They added, however,
that if we went on steadily towards the north for another seven days’
journey, we should come to a place where a white man lived, one, they
had heard, who had a long beard and killed animals with guns, as we
did.
Encouraged by this intelligence we pushed forward, now travelling down
hill out of the mists into a more genial country. Indeed, the veld here
was beautiful, high, rolling plains like those of the East African
plateau, covered with a deep and fertile chocolate-coloured soil, as we
could see where the rains had washed out dongas. The climate, too,
seemed to be cool and very healthful. Altogether it was a pity to see
such lands lying idle and tenanted only by countless herds of game, for
there were not any native inhabitants, or at least we met none.
On we trekked, our road still sloping slightly down hill, till at
length we saw far away a vast sea of bush-veld which, as I guessed
correctly, must fringe the great Zambesi River. Moreover we, or rather
Hans, whose eyes were those of a hawk, saw something else, namely
buildings of a more or less civilised kind, which stood among trees by
the side of a stream several miles on this side of the great belt of
bush.
“Look, Baas,” said Hans, “those wanderers did not lie; there is the
house of the white man. I wonder if he drinks anything stronger than
water,” he added with a sigh and a kind of reminiscent contraction of
his yellow throat.
As it happened, he did.