The tree had two openings, a large one half a yard from the ground, and
a smaller one, somewhere about the height of the first story of a town
house. Hardly had Mea thrown the burning branches into the lower one
than large bats began to fly out of the top one, and, blinded by the
sun, they circled around the tree, screaming as loud as they could. But
the real master of the house soon wriggled out of the lower opening, and
it proved to be an enormous boa-constrictor, which, though apparently
still half asleep, had devoured the remnants of its last feast, and not
until the smoke reached its nostrils had it awakened and sought safety.
At the sight of this iron-colored body squirming out of the smoking
tree-hollow, uncoiling itself like an enormous spring, Stasch picked
Nell up in his arms and started to run away with her in the direction of
the open wilderness. The reptile, itself frightened by the smoke and
fire, did not follow them, but wended its way through the grass and the
piles of baggage and disappeared very swiftly in the direction of the
gorge, to hide itself in the crevices of the rocks. The children
regained their courage. Stasch set Nell on the ground, hurried to fetch
his rifle, and then ran in the direction of the gorge after the snake.
Nell followed close behind. After going a short distance they beheld
such an extraordinary sight that they both stood rooted to the ground.
High above the gorge the body of the snake appeared for an instant,
wriggled in the air, then fell to the ground. After a while it appeared
a second time, then fell down again. When the children reached the edge
of the ravine they saw to their surprise that their new friend, the
elephant, was playing with the snake, and after having thrown it in the
air twice, he was now stamping on its head with his feet, which
resembled blocks of wood. Having finished this performance, he lifted
the still squirming body with his trunk; this time he did not throw it
into the air, but right into the waterfall. Then he swayed from side to
side, fanned himself with his ears, and began to fix his eyes on Nell,
and at last put out his trunk toward her, as if demanding a reward for
his heroic and sensible deed.
[Illustration: “At the sight of the boa-constrictor squirming out of
the smoking tree-hollow, uncoiling itself like an enormous spring,
Stasch picked up Nell in his arms and started to run away.” ]
Nell immediately ran toward the tent and returned with a quantity of
wild figs, a few of which she threw to him. He picked them up carefully
and swallowed one after another. Those that fell into deep crevices he
picked up by blowing into the cracks with such force that stones the
size of one’s fist flew into the air along with the figs. The children
showed their appreciation of these tricks by laughing and clapping their
hands. Nell repeatedly brought more food, and every time she threw a fig
down she maintained that he was quite tame now, and that it would be
safe for her to go down to him.
“Do you see, Stasch, now we shall have a protector—for he is afraid of
nothing in the wilderness, not even of a lion or a snake, or a
crocodile. Besides, he is very good—and surely he ought to be fond of
us.”
“If he should become tame,” said Stasch, “so that I might leave you in
his care, I would not be afraid to go off hunting, for I could not find
a better protector for you in the whole of Africa.”
After a while he continued:
“It is a fact that the elephants of Africa are wilder, but I have read
that the Asiatic ones, for instance, have a peculiar weakness for
children. In India there has never been a case of an elephant hurting a
child, and when one of these animals becomes enraged, as sometimes
happens, children are sent to appease it.”
“So you see, you see!”
“At any rate, you were right in preventing me from killing him.”
Thereupon Nell’s eyes shone with joy. Standing on tip-toe, she laid both
hands on Stasch’s shoulders, and leaning her head back and looking into
his eyes, she asked:
“I behaved as if I were—how old? Tell me! As if I were—how old?”
And he answered:
“At least seventy.”
“You do nothing but joke.”
“Well, be angry! be angry! But who will release the elephant?”
On hearing this Nell clung to him like a young kitten.
“You!—and I shall love you very much for it, and so will he.”
“I have already thought about it,” said Stasch; “but it will be a very
troublesome thing to do. I shall not do it now, but only when we are
ready to continue our journey.”
“Why?”
“For this reason: because if I should release him before he is quite
tame and before he has got used to us, he would immediately run away.”
“Oh! he will not leave me.”
“Do you think he is as fond of you as I am?” replied Stasch somewhat
impatiently.
All further conversation was interrupted by the approach of Kali, who
brought the slain zebra with its young one, which had been bitten to
death by Saba. It was a lucky thing for the bulldog that he had followed
Kali, and had therefore not been present at the routing out of the
snake, for the dog would have followed it, and had he come within its
reach would have been squeezed to death in its coils long before Stasch
could have come to the rescue. He received a box on the ears from Stasch
for having torn to pieces the young zebra, but he did not seem to take
this very much to heart, for he did not even put in his tongue, which
had been hanging out ever since he came from the chase.
Meanwhile Stasch gave Kali to understand that he intended to arrange a
dwelling-place in the tree, and told him what had happened when smoking
out the tree-trunk, and what the elephant had done to the snake. The
thought of living in the giant tree, which not only served as a
protection against the rain, but also against wild animals, pleased the
negro very much, but, on the other hand, the elephant’s behavior did not
at all meet with his approval.
“The elephant is stupid,” said he, “and therefore he threw the ‘nioka’
(snake) into the rushing waters, but Kali knows that ‘nioka’ is very
good to eat, and so he will fish it out of the water and roast it, for
Kali is clever—and a donkey.”
“Yes, you are a donkey, all right,” answered Stasch. “You surely do not
want to eat a snake.”
“Nioka is good,” said Kali.
And pointing to the dead zebra, he added:
“Better than this nyama.”
Then they both walked toward the baobab-tree and began to arrange the
house. Kali took a flat stone, the shape of a large sieve, from the bank
of the river, laid it down inside the tree-trunk, and put more and more
burning wood on it, taking care that the rotten wood in the inside of
the tree did not catch fire, which would have set the entire tree
ablaze. He said that he did this so that nothing could bite the “Great
Man” and the little “Bibi.” It was soon apparent that this was no
unnecessary precaution, for no sooner had the wreaths of smoke filled
the interior of the tree and rushed out than all kinds of vermin began
to creep out of the broken bark—black and cherry-colored beetles,
plum-sized hairy spiders, caterpillars covered with finger-long prickly
hairs, and all sorts of horrible poisonous vermin, whose bite might even
cause death. From what was taking place on the exterior of the trunk, it
could readily be imagined that many similar insects were meeting their
fate in the clouds of smoke within, and the insects which fell to the
grass from the bark and the lower branches were unmercifully killed with
stones by Kali, who all the time stared fixedly at the two openings in
the hollow trunk as if afraid that some strange creature would appear at
any minute.
“Why do you look like that?” asked Stasch; “do you believe that there is
another snake hidden in the tree?”
“No; Kali is afraid of ‘Msimu.’ ”
“What’s that, ‘Msimu’?”
“Evil spirit.”
“Have you ever seen a Msimu?”
“No, but Kali has heard the dreadful noise made by Msimu in the
sorcerers’ huts.”
“So your sorcerers are not afraid of him?”
“The sorcerers fully believe in him; they enter our huts and tell us
that Msimu is angry, and the negroes bring them bananas, honey, pombe (a
beer made from a certain plant), eggs and meat, with which to propitiate
Msimu.”
Stasch raised his eyebrows.
“I should think it would be delightful to be one of your sorcerers. But
could this snake have been Msimu?”
Kali shook his head.
“If this had been so the elephant would not have killed Msimu, but Msimu
would have killed the elephant. Msimu is dead.”
A weird crackling sound suddenly interrupted him. From the lower cavity
in the tree came a strange-looking cloud of red dust; after which the
crackling became louder.
Kali at once prostrated himself on his face and began to scream in
terror:
“Aka! Msimu! Aka! Aka! Aka!”
At first Stasch drew back, too, but he soon regained his composure, and
when Nell and Mea came running up he explained the probable cause to
them.
“It is most likely,” he said, “that layers of mold, loosened by the
heat, have fallen down and smothered the fire. But Kali believes it was
Msimu. Mea shall pour water into the cavity, for if the fire is not
smothered and the mold should ignite, it might burst out and the whole
tree be consumed.”
Stasch saw that Kali still lay prostrate in terror, repeating “Aka!
Aka!” so he picked up his rifle, shot into the cavity, then touched the
boy with the butt of the gun and said:
“Your Msimu is shot. Don’t be frightened.”
Kali raised himself a little, but remained on his knees.
“O great, great sir! Is the master not even afraid of Msimu?”
Stasch’s reply was a laugh.
After a while the negro became calm, and sat down to the meal prepared
by Mea. It was very evident that his momentary fright had not affected
his appetite, for in addition to a substantial helping of smoked meat he
ate the raw liver of the young zebra, not to mention the wild figs,
quantities of which grew on a neighboring sycamore. Then he and Stasch
returned to the tree, where there was still plenty of work to be done,
for it took more than two hours to take out the mold and ashes, the
burned bats, the piles of roasted beetles, and other large insects.
Stasch wondered how the bats could have lived in such close proximity to
the snake, but he concluded that the monster either disdained such small
prey or could not reach it, being unable to uncoil itself inside the
tree. The heat had caused the layers of mold to break off, and thus
cleaned out the interior very thoroughly. Stasch was delighted to see
this, for the cavity was as spacious as a large room, and would be big
enough not only to shelter four persons, but ten. The lower opening
formed a door; the upper, a window; and consequently it was neither dark
nor stuffy in the giant tree. Stasch decided to divide the interior into
two rooms by means of the tent canvas; one of these he intended for Nell
and Mea and the other for himself, Kali, and Saba. The tree was not
decayed at the top, therefore no rain could penetrate it, and in order
to make it completely waterproof it was only necessary to raise and prop
the bark slightly over both openings, so as to form two gutters. They
decided to strew the floor inside with sun-dried sand from the bank of
the stream, and to cover this with a padding of dry moss.
This was very hard work, especially for Kali, for he had also to smoke
the meat, water the horses, and supply food for them all, as well as for
the elephant, who continually reminded them of it by trumpeting. But the
young negro set to work with great zest and industry arranging their new
abode. The reason for his industry was discovered by Stasch that very
day.
“If the Great Man and Bibi,” said he, with his hands on his hips, “are
to live in the tree, Kali will not have to build a large hedge for the
night, and so he will have nothing to do in the evening.”
“So you like being idle, eh?” said Stasch.
“Kali is a man, and so he likes to be idle, for only women should work.”
“And yet you see that I work for Bibi.”
“But, on the other hand, Bibi will have to work for the Great Man when
she grows up—and should she refuse, the Great Man will surely beat
her.”
At the very thought of this Stasch sprang up and cried angrily:
“You fool, do you know what ‘Bibi’ is?”
“I don’t know,” answered the frightened boy.
“Bibi is—is—a good Msimu.”
At this Kali fairly staggered.
On finishing his work he walked shyly up to Nell, prostrated himself on
his face before her, and began in a beseeching, if not a frightened
voice, to repeat:
“Aka! Aka! Aka!”
And the “good Msimu” looked at him wonderingly with her lovely sea-green
eyes, for she could not understand what had happened, and what was the
matter with Kali.