THE EMIR’S SECRET
The hunting camp was to be made about two days’ journey from the city
of Yelwa. Garram and Kon, unused to the leisurely travel of city men,
covered the distance in one day and found themselves on the camp site
with many hours to wait before the Emir arrived.
It was just before nightfall when they reached the prearranged spot
and sat for a while watching a gang of laborers clearing grasses,
bushes, and tree stumps from a wide flat space on the bank of a small
lake. At nightfall the two went hunting, killed, ate, and slept, and
at dawn started for a fresh hunt, driving the game as close in to camp
as possible before killing it. When they arrived back at the camp site
the clearing that had been made the day before was being filled with
flat-roofed sun shelters made with boughs of trees. Grass-walled huts
had been run up and picketing places established for the horses which
were expected.
[Illustration]
In the center the laborers were erecting the Emir’s own hut. It
was larger than the others, more pretentious, with walls of three
thicknesses of grass matting and a thatched roof, beautifully thick and
even. The workers were busy trimming more boughs with heavy knives,
digging holes for timber uprights, tying and plaiting grasses. They
looked up from their work as Garram passed, glancing curiously at the
boy dressed in hides, and at his dog, so much larger than any they
had ever seen before. Enviously they stared after his load of freshly
killed meat which showed beneath the leaf coverings. They had come
from distant villages and had lived for more than two days on a little
half-cooked flour mixed with water, which they had brought with them.
Garram had noted their scanty diet and guessed their hunger. Now,
dropping the heavy load from his head, he knelt down and undid the
twisted slivers of bark with which it was tied. Almost before he had
unrolled the meat, the workers, divining his intention, dropped their
work and commenced to blow up cooking fires from such wood as came to
hand.
Garram made signs to the old village chief, and the old man detailed
off a band of boys to follow the hunter and Kon back into the bush
for the remainder of the kill. The young hunter returned to find
himself suddenly popular, and the popularity increased, along with
astonishment, when they discovered that he would take no money for the
food. Never before had they seen any one of Garram’s race, but they had
heard of the mysterious race of the Hillmen since they were children.
They were almost incredulous at his ability to go into the bush and
return with game as easily as a man picks a sheep from a sheep pen.
Why, it would have taken a hunter of the Plains a fortnight, at least a
week, to kill as much as Garram had brought to them in a single day!
They offered him their small tobacco pipes, pressed upon him small
gifts of tobacco, and later in the day, when the women and children
arrived with fresh provisions, they urged upon him thick but harmless
beer and other delicacies. Twice more that morning Garram went hunting,
and under the stimulus of so much good meat the camp builders worked
at an amazing pace. By midday everything was finished, and all the
long, blazing afternoon the hunter and his new friends lay, half
asleep, in a shady shelter topping a grassy slope. A faint breeze, just
enough to eddy the tobacco smoke, came from the stretch of blue water
below.
Kon, glad to be released from the grilling heat of the city, had
followed the children down to the lake and delightedly joined in their
play. He had figured as a riding horse, been taken down to drink and
to stand belly-deep among the water lilies. Then came a less peaceful
rôle, that of a hunted elephant. But as the heat grew he changed from
an elephant to a hippopotamus. But a hippo must submerge and dive
down to graze along the lake bottom, and the children, finding Kon
unsinkable, finally turned him into a good-natured canoe.
Toward sunset Garram woke. The drums and horns of the Emir’s party
could be heard approaching. The villagers, collecting their tools,
went out to meet their chief and pay their respects, Garram and Kon
followed them. A wide track had been cleared through the bush, and
passing over a gentle rise the two stopped to watch the advancing
column which wound its way down a hill, crossed a small plain and came
on.
A band of mounted men rode first, wearing the many-colored plumed
helmet and the quilted armor of the guards. In spite of two days
traveling, their wiry, thin little horses were prancing and sidling
along the wide cleared track, their low-hanging embroidered
saddle-cloths swinging to the movements. Following them came men on
foot, their ten-foot trumpets gleaming red in the setting sun. The deep
boom of the great instruments formed an undercurrent to the rattle of
accouterments and the patter of hoofs. Mounted guards and trumpeters
passed in a cloud of dust which turned golden on the evening air. Then
the wail of oboe-like reed instruments became audible. Lesser chiefs
and courtiers, each with running footmen and a few mounted attendants
preceded the mounted oboe players.
Behind the musicians, closely surrounded by people chanting his
praises, covered by a brilliant crimson and gold umbrella ten feet
across, and fanned by other attendants, rode the Emir. Then more
guards followed, grooms, slaves, and the innumerable hangers-on, small
children, pouring along in a steady stream with the dust over all.
Garram waited to see the last of the procession pass and turned back
toward camp. He heard the distant plaudits as the Emir reached his hut
and alighted, and moving swiftly along through the last of the setting
sun ran into a breathless messenger who gave Garram to understand, by
signs, that the Emir had sent for him. As they neared camp the change
was already apparent. Cooking fires were crackling gently outside grass
huts, men smoked and lounged and gossiped as they passed in and out,
and a bustle of busy preparations for the evening meal surrounded him.
The use of the sand-strewn square framed with logs, which had puzzled
him, now became clear. White-robed worshipers were already kneeling
there, pressing their foreheads to the sand, engaged in their evening
prayers.
And then, as Garram and the messenger entered the Emir’s hut, all the
heat and bustle and confusion of the newly pitched camp died out behind
them. The hut which Garram had seen bare but a short time before was
now lined from roof to floor with embroidered hangings, heavy draperies
which shut out the dust, heat, and noise. The boy had no chance for
detailed inspection, for the guide immediately withdrew, and the Emir
turned to another man, only dimly seen in the darkness, and who seemed
to be an interpreter.
“Oh, Garram, it is easier for a beggar to free himself of fleas than
for an emir to free himself of courtiers!”
The voice from the darkness translated the Emir’s remark into the
speech of the Hills, and Garram inclined his head in reply.
The Emir’s voice went on, and again the other voice interpreted:
“Praisers, beggars, singers, women, statesmen with their much talking,
cover a man with words, separating him from all manly acts, deafening
him with their clamor.”
Again the hunter inclined his head, and the voice went on: “So now I
seek to escape. The guard will be told that I rest, being wearied with
travel, and this man”--the Emir waved to the voice--“will dress in
my clothes, lie on my couch, and feign sleep. But I, dressed in his
garments will meet you and the dog at the north side of the lake as
soon as dusk shall be fallen. Then will I gain freedom from talk and
shall hunt as I hunted long ago.”
Garram had barely reached the meeting place before the Emir
arrived. The borrowed robes had served their purpose in taking him,
unrecognized, through the camp. Now, silently, he stripped to dark
blue loincloth and thrust the rolled up robe and trousers into a thick
bush. Garram found time to notice with admiration his tall form, soft
no doubt with city dwelling, but with none of the bulging muscles of
the professional strong man. His chest, as he breathed, showed almost
the elasticity of youth, his long lean flatness spoke of speed and
tirelessness, and his shoulders, but for his height, would have been
unduly broad.
Then the young hunter’s attention turned to Kon. The dog, nose to
ground, had discovered something of interest. Garram, knowing they
wished bigger game, signaled to Kon by a faint whistle not to follow
bird tracks, and the dog’s ears swung back for an instant in answer to
the call. Now, as they moved forward following Kon, the light faded
quickly, and faint sounds became more and more distinct in the still
air. Only the _swish-swish_ of the Emir’s sandals seemed out of place.
He took them off and hung them on his quiver.
“One must not stamp along like a buffalo!” he muttered.
They swung along for what seemed hours, and as the faint moonlight
grew, the woods seemed almost more silent than in full darkness. Now
and then Garram bent to examine the tracks more closely. One was that
of a male _barawa_, apparently alone. The Emir whispered its name in
the Fulani tongue, and the boy, intent on the slot, nodded assent
without noticing the gleam of interest in the older man’s face at his
understanding. At last, after a mile or two of tracking, Kon paused and
looked up for instructions. The problem was a simple one. A fresher
track of a bigger animal had crossed the one they were following. Which
did the master want Kon to follow? A sign swung him off the old track
on to that of a hartebeeste. Soon the dog paused again. The Emir would
have run up, but Garram checked him. Kon was not asking advice this
time. Slowly, carefully, harking back so as to make certain, the finely
trained nose disentangled the interwoven tracks, and breaking into a
confident trot again Kon traced his beast clear of the tangle.
Following the dog’s example the two humans moved with greater and
greater caution. Soon they were close behind their leader and slowed
to a silent, gliding walk. The scent was now strong and easy to
follow, Kon could afford to raise his head and moved forward at a slow
walk, scanning the bush ahead, again dropping his nose to the trail
to make sure. They had come to more open country, the thick scrubby
trees were fewer here, and bare ground, studded with tussocks of grass,
stretched between.
Suddenly Kon halted. Shapes rising silvery gray from the moonlight
stood out in front of them. Heartebeestes! On both sides of them the
Emir and Garram could hear the herd moving and grazing.
Swiftly the long war bow of the Emir rose and twanged. Garram slipped
an arrow from his muted hunting bow into a shape at his right, and the
animal fell as he stood. As it struggled to rise again Garram gave
it the final blow with his knife and turned quickly back to help his
fellow hunter. But the Emir and Kon had already disappeared.
Garram took up the trail at a swift run. Now that the game had been
disturbed there was no virtue in extreme silence. Without pause he
sped along the faint tracks in the dim moonlight and had not gone far
before the crash of a wounded animal at bay came clearly through the
night. He arrived too late to assist. As he came upon the scene Kon
swung the animal by one hind leg. It made a half turn, then fell with
a thud, and the Emir threw his weight upon the noble head to cut the
throat. Cutting, he spoke the prescribed words, which make the meat
_halal_--or lawful food for followers of the Prophet.
The Emir, excited and happy as a youth, produced flint and steel and
started a fire, while Garram and Kon did the skinning. With growing
amazement the Fulani watched the dog keep a steady pull on the hide as
the boy eased it away from the underlying tissue with his knife, Kon
following directions and pulling now to the right, now to the left.
Later, when Garram came to a joint and put down his knife, Kon walked
around to his side and passed him the hunting ax, which was used for
disjointing.
“Allah! Do my eyes tell me truth?” cried the Emir, stirred from his
silent admiration. “Perhaps this great dog also mends your leather and
sweeps your hut! Give him the knife and let him finish the skinning,
you and I are only in the way!”
Garram looked up from his work and grinned but did not reply. The
skinning over, he made long skewers of wood and, running them through
slices of the meat, planted them in the ashes of the now clear and
smokeless fire.
The young hunter from the Hills, the Emir of proud and ancient lineage,
the huge mongrel dog were all equally hungry.
“No sweetmeats of the palace ever tasted so good!” sighed the Emir as
he finished the meal. He lay back on his elbow, threw the last greasy
skewer into the fire, and sniffed the warm night air. Kon gnawed at
a huge bone for dessert. Garram watched the Fulani chief with silent
interest.
“Garram, whom men call the Hunter, it is now three moons since you came
to the city and to my court. At first when people spake our speech you
did not understand. But now, even though you do not speak in return,
anger, amusement, satisfaction at the words of others show in your face
when you think no one is watching you. Garram the Stranger is no longer
a stranger, but understands our speech!”
The boy did not reply, and the elder man went on. “Game that comes too
often to strange feeding grounds dies soon, eh? But you, who with this
monstrous hound saved my life, should have no fear of _me_.”
The boy had been working with his knife at some morsels of fat still
clinging to the hide. He turned now on one elbow toward the Emir.
Thinking out his words in the strange Fulani tongue he answered slowly
and stiffly: “Most I understand, but little I speak. Talking is not so
useful as listening. If I spoke, people would know I also understand.
Then they would hide from me things that now they let me hear.”
“And what things do you now hear?” The Emir sat up, his interest
increasing.
“Of food, of trade, of crops of the fields, of children, and very often
of women--but sometimes, in dark places----”
“Yes, yes, of what? Speak!”
“Of how they will kill you, killing also your heir, the child who
cannot yet walk.” The hunter waved an explanatory hand in the red
firelight. “Therefore I listened, being angry at the thought of the
killing of a child. To kill a man is no great harm--though I do not
like the killing by a friend and from behind, as they would have done
to you had Kon not seen. But to kill the young, whether of animals or
of men, is to bring down the wrath of the God Nen--Fertility--and would
bring misfortune and blight to the crops. It is unlawful in our Hills
and should be so in your Plains!”
Anger and amusement struggled for place in the Emir’s mind. He had
long suspected that Garram, unknown to those around him, had been
picking up the language and much valuable information. Trusting him as
perhaps the one really honest man in an intriguing court, the Emir
had planned this move to the hunting camp, and the secret midnight
hunt, simply for the purpose of getting word with him free from risk
of being heard by spies. Now Garram’s honest, unflattering views were
a trifle embarrassing. To the Emir it was no slight matter if an enemy
assassinated him!
Prompted by questions, Garram explained his point.
“Ibrahim was only a misguided fool,” he said. “A tool of the plotters.
The proof of the real plotters must, however, be established. They are
very cunning, but we shall track them down if you will leave it to me
and do as I say.”
Several times the Emir had to swallow his wrath at the blunt simple
speech. The boy seemed more concerned with making the true situation
clear and with catching the criminals than with flattering the Emir
and concern for his safety. They sat long over the fire, and it was
Garram’s suggestions, moreover, that won his point. With a twinkle of
humor showing in his dark eyes the Emir summed up. “So--if I follow
your advice you will catch my enemies. But in payment you ask the
pardon of Ibrahim?”
Garram, who had hated all these words, nodded in reply.
“You are a bold youth to make terms with me thus. But so be it! Search
out the trails of the conspirators, and good hunting! But now we must
return, for dawn is nearly breaking. I will help you with the meat as
far as the place where my clothes are hidden. Thence you must carry it
yourself, for my hunting and my talk with you must remain unknown.”
THE ROYAL HUNT
[Illustration]