FOWLING AND FISHING.
The tents, which were made of light cloth intended to keep off the
night dews rather than to afford warmth, were soon pitched, fires were
lighted with fuel that had been brought with them in order to save
time in searching for it, and Rabah went off to search for fish and
fowl. He returned in half an hour with a peasant carrying four ducks
and several fine fish.
“We shall do now,” he said; “with these and the stag our larder is
complete. Everything but meat we have brought with us.”
Chebron, although he had kept on bravely, was fatigued with his walk
and was glad to throw himself down on the sand and enjoy the prospect,
which to him was a new one, for he had never before seen so wide an
expanse of water.
When on the top of the hill he had made out a faint dark line in the
distance, and this Rabah told him was the bank of sand that separated
the lake from the Great Sea. Now from his present position this was
invisible, and nothing but a wide expanse of water stretching away
until it seemed to touch the sky met his view. Here and there it was
dotted with dark patches which were, Rabah told him, clumps of
waterfowl, and in the shallow water near the margin, which was but a
quarter of a mile away, he could see vast numbers of wading birds,
white cranes, and white and black ibises, while numbers of other
waterfowl, looking like black specks, moved about briskly among them.
Sometimes with loud cries a number would rise on the wing, and either
make off in a straight line across the water or circle round and
settle again when they found that their alarm was groundless.
“It is lovely, is it not?” he exclaimed to Amuba, who was standing
beside him leaning on his bow and looking over the water.
Amuba did not reply immediately, and Chebron looking up saw that there
were tears on his cheeks.
“What is it, Amuba?” he asked anxiously.
“It is nothing, Chebron; but the sight of this wide water takes my
thoughts homeward. Our city stood on a sea like this, not so large as
they say is this Great Sea we are looking at, but far too large for
the eye to see across, and it was just such a view as this that I
looked upon daily from the walls of our palace, save that the shores
were higher.”
“Maybe you will see it again some day, Amuba,” Chebron said gently.
Amuba shook his head.
“I fear the chances are small indeed, Chebron. Jethro and I have
talked it over hundreds of times, and on our route hither we had
determined that if we fell into the hands of harsh masters, we would
at all hazards try some day to make our escape; but the journey is
long and would lie through countries subject to Egypt. The people of
the land to be passed over speak languages strange to us, and it would
be well-nigh impossible to make the journey in safety. Still we would
have tried it. As it is, we are well contented with our lot, and
should be mad indeed to forsake it on the slender chances of finding
our way back to the land of the Rebu, where, indeed, even if we
reached it, I might not be well received, for who knows what king may
now be reigning there?”
“And if you could get away and were sure of arriving there safely,
would you exchange all the comforts of a civilized country like Egypt
for a life such as you have described to me among your own people?”
“There can be no doubt, Chebron, that your life here is far more
luxurious and that you are far more civilized than the Rebu. By the
side of your palaces our houses are but huts. We are ignorant even of
reading and writing. A pile of rushes for our beds and a rough table
and stools constitute our furniture; but, perhaps, after all one is
not really happier for all the things you have. You may have more
enjoyments, but you have greater cares. I suppose every man loves his
own country best, but I do not think that we can love ours as much as
you do. In the first place, we have been settled there but a few
generations, large numbers of our people constantly moving west,
either by themselves or joining with one of the peoples who push past
us from the far East; beside, wherever we went we should take our
country with us, build houses like those we left behind, live by the
chase or fishing in one place as another, while the Egyptians could
nowhere find a country like Egypt. I suppose it is the people more
than the country, the familiar language, and the familiar faces and
ways. I grant freely that the Egyptians are a far greater people than
we, more powerful, more learned, the masters of many arts, the owners
of many comforts and luxuries, and yet one longs sometimes for one’s
free life among the Rebu.”
“One thing is, Amuba, you were a prince there and you are not here.
Had you been but a common man, born to labor, to toil, or to fight at
the bidding of your king, you might perhaps find that the life even of
an Egyptian peasant is easier and more pleasant than yours was.”
“That may be,” Amuba said thoughtfully, “and yet I think that the very
poorest among us was far freer and more independent than the richest
of your Egyptian peasants. He did not grovel on the ground when the
king passed along. It was open to him if he was braver than his
fellows to rise in rank. He could fish, or hunt, or till the ground,
or fashion arms as he chose; his life was not tied down by usage or
custom. He was a man, a poor one, perhaps--a half-savage one, if you
will--but he was a man, while your Egyptian peasants, free as they may
be in name, are the very slaves of law and custom. But I see that the
meal is ready, and I have a grand appetite.”
“So have I, Amuba. It is almost worth while walking a long way for the
sake of the appetite one gets at the end.”
The meal was an excellent one. One of the slaves who had been brought
was an adept at cooking, and fish, birds, and venison were alike
excellent, and for once the vegetables that formed so large a portion
of the ordinary Egyptian repast were neglected.
“What are we going to do to-morrow, Rabah?” Chebron asked after the
meal was concluded.
“I have arranged for to-morrow, if such is your pleasure, my lord,
that you shall go fowling. A boat will take you along the lake to a
point about three miles off where the best sport is to be had; then
when the day is over it will carry you on another eight miles to the
place I spoke to you of where good sport was to be obtained. I shall
meet you on your landing there, and will have everything in readiness
for you.”
“That will do well,” Chebron said. “Amuba and Jethro, you will, of
course, come with me.”
As soon as it was daylight Rabah led Chebron down to the lake, and the
lad with Amuba and Jethro entered the boat, which was constructed of
rushes covered with pitch and drew only two or three inches of water.
Two men with long poles were already in the boat; they were fowlers by
profession, and skilled in all the various devices by which the
waterfowl were captured. They had, during the night, been preparing
the boat for the expedition by fastening rushes all round it; the
lower ends of these dipped into the water, the upper ends were six
feet above it, and the rushes were so thickly placed together as to
form an impenetrable screen.
The boat was square at the stern, and here only was there an opening a
few inches wide in the rushes to enable the boatman standing there to
propel the boat with his pole. One of the men took his station here,
the other at the bow, where he peered through a little opening between
the rushes, and directed his comrade in the stern as to the course he
should take. In the bottom of the boat lay two cats who, knowing that
their part was presently to come, watched all that was being done with
an air of intelligent interest. A basket well stored with provisions,
and a jar of wine, were placed on board, and the boat then pushed
noiselessly off.
Parting the reeds with their fingers and peeping out, the boys saw
that the boat was not making out into the deeper part of the lake, but
was skirting the edge, keeping only a few yards out from the band of
rushes at its margin.
“Do you keep this distance all the way?” Chebron asked the man with
the pole.
The man nodded.
“As long as we are close to the rushes the waterfowl do not notice our
approach, while were we to push out into the middle they might take
the alarm; although we often do capture them in that way, but in that
case we get to windward of the flock we want to reach, and then drift
down slowly upon them, but we shall get more sport now by keeping
close in. The birds are numerous, and you will soon be at work.”
In five minutes the man at the bow motioned his passengers that they
were approaching a flock of waterfowl. Each of them took up his bow
and arrows and stood in readiness, while the man in the stern used his
pole even more quickly and silently than before. Presently at a signal
from his comrades he ceased poling. All round the boat there were
slight sounds--low contented quackings, and fluttering of wings, as
the birds raised themselves and shook the water from their backs.
Parting the rushes in front of them, the two lads and Jethro peeped
through them.
They were right in the middle of a flock of wildfowl who were feeding
without a thought of danger from the clump of rushes in their midst.
The arrows were already in their notches, the rushes were parted a
little further, and the three shafts were loosed. The twangs of the
bows startled the ducks, and stopping feeding they gazed at the rushes
with heads on one side. Three more arrows glanced out, but this time
one of the birds aimed at was wounded only, and uttering a cry of pain
and terror it flapped along the surface of the water.
[Illustration: C. of B. FOWLING WITH THE THROWING-STICK.--Page 111.]
Instantly, with wild cries of alarm, the whole flock arose, but before
they had fairly settled in their flight, two more fell pierced with
arrows. The cats had been standing on the alert, and as the cry of
alarm was given leaped overboard from the stern, and proceeded to
pick up the dead ducks, among which were included that which had at
first flown away, for it had dropped in the water about fifty yards
from the boat. A dozen times the same scene was repeated until some
three score ducks and geese lay in the bottom of the boat. By this
time the party had had enough of sport, and had indeed lost the
greater part of their arrows, as all which failed to strike the bird
aimed at went far down into the deep mud at the bottom and could not
be recovered.
“Now let the men show us their skill with their throwing-sticks,”
Chebron said. “You will see they will do better with them than we with
our arrows.”
The men at once turned the boat’s head toward a patch of rushes
growing from the shallow water a hundred yards out in the lake.
Numbers of ducks and geese were feeding round it, and the whole rushes
were in movement from those swimming and feeding among them, for the
plants were just at that time in seed. The birds were too much
occupied to mark the approach of this fresh clump of rushes. The men
had removed the screen from the side of the boat furthest from the
birds, and now stood in readiness, each holding half a dozen sticks
about two feet long, made of curved and crooked wood.
When close to the birds the boat was swung round, and at once with
deafening cries the birds rose; but as they did so the men with great
rapidity hurled their sticks one after another among them, the last
being directed at the birds which, feeding among the rushes, were not
able to rise as rapidly as their companions. The lads were astonished
at the effect produced by these simple missiles. So closely packed
were the birds that each stick, after striking one, whirled and
twisted among the others, one missile frequently bringing down three
or four birds.
The cats were in an instant at work. The flapping and noise was
prodigious, for although many of the birds were killed outright,
others struck in the wing or leg were but slightly injured. Some made
off along the surface of the water, others succeeded in getting up and
flying away, but the greater part were either killed by the cats, or
knocked on the head by the poles of the two fowlers. Altogether
twenty-seven birds were added to the store in the boat.
“That puts our arrows to shame altogether, Amuba,” Chebron said. “I
have always heard that the fowlers on these lakes were very skilled
with these throwing-sticks of theirs, but I could not have believed it
possible that two men should in so short a space have effected such a
slaughter; but then I had no idea of the enormous quantities of birds
on these lakes.”
Jethro was examining the sticks which, as well as the ducks, had been
retrieved by the cats.
“They are curious things,” he said to Amuba. “I was thinking before
the men used them that straight sticks would be much better, and was
wondering why they chose curved wood, but I have no doubt now the
shape has something to do with it. You see, as the men threw they gave
them a strong spinning motion. That seems the secret of their action.
It was wonderful to see how they whirled about among the fowl,
striking one on the head, another on the leg, another on the wing,
until they happened to hit one plump on the body; that seemed to stop
them. I am sure one of those sticks that I kept my eyes fixed on must
have knocked down six birds. I will practice with these things, and if
I ever get back home I will teach their use to our people. There are
almost as many waterfowl on our sea as there are here. I have seen it
almost black with them down at the southern end, where it is bordered
by swamps and reed-covered marshes.”
“How do they catch them there, Jethro?” Chebron asked.
“They net them in decoys, and sometimes wade out among them with their
heads hidden among floating boughs, and so get near enough to seize
them by the legs and pull them under water; in that way a man will
catch a score of them before their comrades are any the wiser.”
“We catch them the same way here,” one of the fowlers who had been
listening remarked. “We weave little bowers just large enough for our
heads and shoulders to go into, and leave three or four of them
floating about for some days near the spot where we mean to work. The
wild fowl get accustomed to them, and after that we can easily go
among them and capture numbers.”
“I should think fowling must be a good trade,” Chebron said.
“It is good enough at times,” the man replied; “but the ducks are not
here all the year. The long-legged birds are always to be found here
in numbers, but the ducks are uncertain, so are the geese. At certain
times in the year they leave us altogether. Some say they go across
the Great Sea to the north; others that they go far south into Nubia.
Then even when they are here they are uncertain. Sometimes they are
thick here, then again there is scarce one to be seen, and we hear
they are swarming on the lakes further to the west. Of course the
wading birds are of no use for food; so you see when the ducks and
geese are scarce, we have a hard time of it. Then, again, even when we
have got a boat-load we have a long way to take it to market, and when
the weather is hot all may get spoiled before we can sell them; and
the price is so low in these parts when the flocks are here that it
is hard to lay by enough money to keep us and our families during the
slack time. If the great cities Thebes and Memphis lay near to us,
it would be different. They could consume all we could catch, and
we should get better prices, but unless under very favorable
circumstances there is no hope of the fowl keeping good during the
long passage up the river to Thebes. In fact, were it not for our
decoys we should starve. In these, of course, we take them alive, and
send them in baskets to Thebes, and in that way get a fair price for
them.”
“What sort of decoys do you use?” Jethro asked.
“Many kinds,” the man replied. “Sometimes we arch over the rushes, tie
them together at the top so as to form long passages over little
channels among the rushes; then we strew corn over the water, and
place near the entrance ducks which are trained to swim about outside
until a flock comes near; then they enter the passage feeding, and the
others follow. There is a sort of door which they can push aside
easily as they pass up, but cannot open on their return.”
“That is the sort of decoy they use in our country,” Jethro said.
“Another way,” the fowler went on, “is to choose a spot where the
rushes form a thick screen twenty yards deep along the bank; then a
light net two or three hundred feet long is pegged down on to the
shore behind them, and thrown over the tops of the rushes, reaching to
within a foot or two of the water. Here it is rolled up, so that when
it is shaken out it will go down into the water. Then two men stand
among the rushes at the ends of the net, while another goes out far on
to the lake in a boat. When he sees a flock of ducks swimming near the
shore he poles the boat toward them; not so rapidly as to frighten
them into taking flight, but enough so to attract their attention and
cause uneasiness. He goes backward and forward, gradually approaching
the shore, and of course managing so as to drive them toward the point
where the net is. When they are opposite this he closes in faster, and
the ducks all swim in among the rushes. Directly they are in, the men
at the ends of the net shake down the rolled-up part, and then the
whole flock are prisoners. After that the fowlers have only to enter
the rushes, and take them as they try to fly upward and are stopped by
the net. With luck two or three catches can be made in a day, and a
thousand ducks and sometimes double that number can be captured. Then
they are put into flat baskets just high enough for them to stand in
with their heads out through the openings at the top, and so put on
board the boat and taken up the Nile.”
“Yes, I have often seen the baskets taken out of the boats,” Chebron
said, “and thought how cruel it was to pack them so closely. But how
do they feed them for they must often be a fortnight on the way?”
“The trader who has bought them of us and other fowlers waits until he
has got enough together to freight a large craft--for it would not pay
to work upon a small scale--accompanies them up the river, and feeds
them regularly with little balls made of moistened flour, just in the
same way that they do at the establishments in Upper Egypt, where they
raise fowl and stuff them for the markets. If the boat is a large one,
and is taking up forty or fifty thousand fowl, of course he takes two
or three boys to help him, for it is no light matter to feed such a
number, and each must have a little water as well as the meal. It
seems strange to us here, where fowl are so abundant, that people
should raise and feed them just as if they were bullocks. But I
suppose it is true.”
“It is quite true,” Chebron replied. “Amuba and I went to one of the
great breeding-farms two or three months ago. There are two sorts--one
where they hatch, the other where they fat them. The one we went to
embraced both branches, but this is unusual. From the hatching-places
collectors go round to all the people who keep fowls for miles round
and bring in eggs, and beside these they buy them from others at a
greater distance. The eggs are placed on sand laid on the floor of
a low chamber, and this is heated by means of flues from a fire
underneath. It requires great care to keep the temperature exactly
right; but of course men who pass their lives at this work can
regulate it exactly, and know by the feel just what is the heat at
which the eggs should be kept.
“There are eight or ten such chambers in the place we visited, so that
every two or three days one or other of them hatches out and is ready
for fresh eggs to be put down. The people who send the eggs come in at
the proper time and receive each a number of chickens in proportion to
the eggs they have sent, one chicken being given for each two eggs.
Some hatchers give more, some less; what remain over are payment
for their work; so you see they have to be very careful about the
hatching. If they can hatch ninety chickens out of every hundred eggs,
it pays them very well; but if, owing to the heat being too great or
too little, only twenty or thirty out of every hundred are raised,
they have to make good the loss. Of course they always put in a great
many of the eggs they have themselves bought. They are thus able to
give the right number to their customers even if the eggs have not
turned out well.
“Those that remain after the proper number has been given to the
farmers the breeders sell to them or to others, it being no part of
their business to bring up the chickens. The fattening business is
quite different. At these places there are long rows of little boxes
piled up on each other into a wall five feet high. The door of each of
these boxes has a hole in it through which the fowl can put its head,
with a little sort of shutter that closes down on it. A fowl is placed
in each box. Then the attendants go around two together; one carries a
basket filled with little balls of meal, the other lifts the shutter,
and as the fowl puts its head out catches it by the neck, makes it
open its beak, and with his other hand pushes the ball of meal down
its throat. They are so skillful that the operation takes scarce a
moment; then they go on to the next, and so on down the long rows
until they have fed the last of those under their charge. Then they
begin again afresh.”
“Why do they keep them in the dark?” the fowler asked.
“They told us that they did it because in the dark they were not
restless, and slept all the time between their meals. Then each time
the flap is lifted they think it is daylight, and pop out their heads
at once to see. In about ten days they get quite fat and plump, and
are ready for market.”
“It seems a wonderful deal of trouble,” the fowler said. “But I
suppose, as they have a fine market close at hand, and can get good
prices, it pays them. It seems more reasonable to me than the hatching
business. Why they should not let the fowls hatch their own eggs is
more than I can imagine.”
“Fowls will lay a vastly greater number of eggs than they will hatch,”
Chebron said. “A well-fed fowl should lay two hundred and fifty eggs
in the year; and, left to herself, she will not hatch more than two
broods of fifteen eggs in each. Thus, you see, as it pays the
peasants much better to rear fowls than to sell eggs, it is to their
profit to send their eggs to the hatching-places, and so to get a
hundred and twenty-five chickens a year instead of thirty.”
“I suppose it does,” the fowler agreed. “But here we are, my lord, at
the end of our journey. There is the point where we are to land, and
your servant who hired us is standing there in readiness for you. I
hope that you are satisfied with your day’s sport.”
Chebron said they had been greatly pleased, and in a few minutes the
boat reached the landing-place, where Rabah was awaiting them. One of
the fowlers, carrying a dozen of the finest fowl they had killed,
accompanied them to the spot Rabah had chosen for the encampment. Like
the last, it stood at the foot of the sandhills, a few hundred yards
from the lake.
“Is the place where we are going to hunt near here?” was Chebron’s
first question.
“No, my lord; it is two miles away. But, in accordance with your
order last night, I have arranged for you to fish to-morrow. In the
afternoon I will move the tents a mile nearer to the country where you
will hunt, but it is best not to go too close, for near the edge of
these great swamps the air is unhealthy to those who are not
accustomed to it.”
“I long to get at the hunting,” Chebron said; “but it is better, as
you say, to have the day’s fishing first, for the work would seem tame
after the excitement of hunting the river-horse. We shall be glad of
our dinner as soon as we can get it, for although we have done justice
to the food you put on board, we are quite ready again. Twelve hours
of this fresh air from the sea gives one the appetite of a hyena.”
“Everything is already in readiness, my lord. I thought it better not
to wait for the game you brought home, which will do well to-morrow,
and so purchased fish and fowl from the peasants. As we have seen your
boat for the last two or three hours, we were able to calculate the
time of your arrival, and thus have everything in readiness.”
The dinner was similar to that on the previous day, except that a hare
took the place of the venison--a change for the better, as the hare
was a delicacy much appreciated by the Egyptians. The following day
was spent in fishing. For this purpose a long net was used, and the
method was precisely similar to that in use in modern times. One end
of the net was fastened to the shore, the net itself being coiled up
in the boat. This was rowed out into the lake, the fishermen paying
out the net as it went. A circuit was then made back to the shore,
where the men seized the two ends of the net and hauled it to land,
capturing the fish inclosed within its sweep. After seeing two or
three hauls made, the lads went with Jethro on board the boat. They
were provided by the fishermen with long two-pronged spears.
The boat was then quietly rowed along the edge of the rushes, where
the water was deeper than usual. It was, however, so clear that they
could see to the bottom, and with their spears they struck at the fish
swimming there. At first they were uniformly unsuccessful, as they
were ignorant that allowance must be made for diffraction, and were
puzzled at finding that their spears instead of going straight down at
the fish they struck at seemed to bend off at an angle at the water’s
edge. The fishermen, however, explained to them that an allowance must
be made for this, the allowance being all the greater the greater the
distance the fish was from the boat, and that it was only when it lay
precisely under them that they could strike directly at it. But even
after being instructed in the matter they succeeded but poorly, and
presently laid down their spears and contented themselves with
watching their boatmen, who rarely failed in striking and bringing
up the prey they aimed at.
Presently their attention was attracted to four boats, each containing
from six to eight men. Two had come from either direction, and when
they neared each other volleys of abuse were exchanged between their
occupants.
“What is all this about?” Chebron asked as the two fishermen laid by
their spears, and with faces full of excitement turned round to watch
the boats.
“The boats come from two villages, my lord, between which at present
there is a feud arising out of some fishing-nets that were carried
away. They sent a regular challenge to each other a few days since, as
is the custom here, and their champions are going to fight it out. You
see the number of men on one side are equal to those on the other, and
the boats are about the same size.”
Amuba and Jethro looked on with great interest, for they had seen
painted on the walls representations of these fights between boatmen,
which were of common occurrence, the Egyptians being a very combative
race, and fierce feuds being often carried on for a long time between
neighboring villages. The men were armed with poles some ten feet in
length, and about an inch and a half in diameter, their favorite
weapons on occasions of this kind. The boats had now come in close
contact, and a furious battle at once commenced, the clattering of the
sticks, the heavy thuds of the blows, and the shouts of the combatants
creating a clamor that caused all the waterfowl within a circle of
half a mile to fly screaming away across the lake. The men all used
their heavy weapons with considerable ability, the greater part of the
blows being warded off. Many, however, took effect, some of the
combatants being knocked into the water, others fell prostrate in
their boats, while some dropped their long staves after a disabling
blow on the arm.
“It is marvelous that they do not all kill each other,” Jethro said.
“Surely this shaving of the head, Amuba, which has always struck us as
being very peculiar, has its uses, for it must tend to thicken the
skull, for surely the heads of no other men could have borne such
blows without being crushed like water-jars.”
That there was certainly some ground for Jethro’s supposition is
proved by the fact that Herodotus, long afterward writing of the
desperate conflicts between the villagers of Egypt, asserted that
their skulls were thicker than those of any other people.
Most of the men who fell into the water scrambled back into the boats
and renewed the fight, but some sank immediately and were seen no
more. At last, when fully half the men on each side had been put _hors
de combat_, four or five having been killed or drowned, the boats
separated, no advantage resting with either party; and still shouting
defiance and jeers at each other, the men poled in the direction of
their respective villages.
“Are such desperate fights as these common?” Chebron asked the
fishermen.
“Yes; there are often quarrels,” one of them replied, quietly resuming
his fishing as if nothing out of the ordinary way had taken place. “If
they are water-side villages their champions fight in boats, as you
have seen; if not, equal parties meet at a spot halfway between the
villages and decide it on foot. Sometimes they fight with short
sticks, the hand being protected by a basket hilt, while on the left
arm a piece of wood, extending from the elbow to the tips of the
fingers, is fastened on by straps serving as a shield; but more
usually they fight with the long pole, which we call the neboot.”
“It is a fine weapon,” Jethro said, “and they guard their heads with
it admirably, sliding their hands far apart. If I were back again,
Amuba, I should like to organize a regiment of men armed with those
weapons. It would need that the part used as a guard should be covered
with light iron to prevent a sword or ax from cutting through it; but
with that addition they would make splendid weapons, and footmen armed
with sword and shield would find it hard indeed to repel an assault by
them.”
“The drawback would be,” Amuba observed, “that each man would require
so much room to wield his weapon that they must stand far apart, and
each would be opposed to three or four swordsmen in the enemy’s line.”
“That is true, Amuba, and you have certainly hit upon the weak point
in the use of such a weapon; but for single combat, or the fighting of
broken ranks, they would be grand. When we get back to Thebes if I can
find any peasant who can instruct me in the use of these neboots I
will certainly learn it.”
“You ought to make a fine player,” one of the fishermen said, looking
at Jethro’s powerful figure. “I should not like a crack on the head
from a neboot in your hands. But the sun is getting low, and we had
best be moving to the point where you are to disembark.”
“We have had another capital day, Rabah,” Chebron said when they
reached their new encampment. “I hope that the rest will turn out as
successful.”
“I think that I can promise you that they will, my lord. I have been
making inquiries among the villagers, and find that the swamp in the
river bed abounds with hippopotami.”
“How do you hunt them--on foot?”
“No, my lord. There is enough water in the river bed for the flat
boats made of bundles of rushes to pass up, while in many places are
deep pools in which the animals lie during the heat of the day.”
“Are they ferocious animals?” Amuba asked. “I have never yet seen one;
for though they say that they are common in the Upper Nile, as well as
found in swamps like this at its mouth, there are none anywhere in the
neighborhood of Thebes. I suppose that there is too much traffic for
them, and that they are afraid of showing themselves in such water.”
“There would be no food for them,” Rabah said. “They are found only in
swamps like this, or in places on the Upper Nile where the river is
shallow and bordered with aquatic plants, on whose roots they
principally live. They are timid creatures and are found only in
little-frequented places. When struck they generally try to make their
escape; for although occasionally they will rush with their enormous
mouth open at a boat, tear it in pieces, and kill the hunter, this
very seldom happens. As a rule they try only to fly.”
“They must be cowardly beasts!” Jethro said scornfully. “I would
rather hunt an animal, be it ever so small, that will make a fight for
its life. However, we shall see.”
Upon the following morning they started for the scene of action. An
exclamation of surprise broke from them simultaneously when, on
ascending a sandhill, they saw before them a plain a mile wide
extending at their feet. It was covered with rushes and other aquatic
plants, and extended south as far as the eye could see.
“For one month in the year,” Rabah said, “this is a river, for eleven
it is little more than a swamp, though the shallower boats can make
their way up it many miles. But a little water always finds its way
down, either from the Nile itself or from the canals. It is one of the
few places of Northern Egypt where the river-horse is still found, and
none are allowed to hunt them unless they are of sufficient rank to
obtain the permission of the governor of the province. The steward
wrote for and obtained this as soon as he knew by letter from your
father that you were accompanying him and would desire to have some
sport.”
“Are there crocodiles there?” Amuba asked.
“Many,” Rabah replied, “although few are now found in the lakes. The
people here are not like those of the Theban zone, who hold them in
high respect--here they regard them as dangerous enemies, and kill
them without mercy.”