``There was never yet philosopher that could endure the toothache
``patiently
`````Much Ado About Nothing=
```To climb steep hills requires slow pace at first.
`````Henry VIII=
|The next matter of interest lay in the return of the camel men. They
came into camp unexpectedly, and Ralph, who was lunching with us, called
out to me in my tent that a civilised looking “oont-wallah” (camel-man)
wanted to speak to me. There indeed stood one of the men who had gone
off to Berbera by the shortest possible route for supplies. He was to
have met us farther on, but we had delayed our departure so much longer
than had been planned; we were not, of course, to be found at the
arranged rendezvous. So, very sensibly, the small caravan came on to
find us. The man gave me particulars of his stewardship, and handed me a
bundle of letters, and some ancient _Daily Wails_ and other newspapers.
The whole lot seemed out of place. Letters and papers are for those
who live in the humming world of men. We considered ourselves dead and
buried to it, We wished we had been in very truth after opening some
of the communications. “Another little bill,” Cecily said, handing me a
quarter yard long sheet.
There were letters from our old shikari uncle, full of advice, kindly
doubts, and a few sharp digs. But his rapiers always had great big
buttons on, so did not hurt us as he lunged. Sooner, I know, would he
have broken his weapon across his knee.
[Illustration: 0327]
All Suburbia was announcing, through the columns of the _Morning
Post_, that marriages had been arranged for them. Who does all this
“arranging”? Nobody ever “arranges” a marriage for me. I often look
hopefully to see. I suppose if you come on it “arranged,” however
unpleasant it may be to you, there is nothing to be done but see the
thing through. A quaint business! Really quite on the lines of the Stone
Age, when a furry suitor would arrange with the furry father to exchange
the furry daughter for a couple of rabbits.
Cecily says if some one doesn’t arrange a marriage for her soon she’ll
be left on the shelf, but one can see a lot from a shelf, provided it
is high enough. Of course she’d be unpopular. Old maids always are.
And this is just because a man sees in every unmarried woman a walking
statistic against his irresistibility.
The Opposition kept us going in meat these days, but at last I prevailed
on Cecily to leave me and do a stalk on her own. But Ralph joined her,
and I wonder how much stalking they did. Anyway, they were bound for the
Toyo to look for hartebeest, and all they came back with was the tail,
very much the worse for wear and time, of an aoul. Ralph said he grabbed
it as the animal dashed past him, and it came off in his hand! I told
him he reminded me of the Book of Chronicles--Unveracious Chronicles!
After all, it was no taller story than many one hears, and a good deal
funnier than some. We know Eve told the first lie, but I am confident
that if Adam ever went big game shooting he came in a very good second
at the winning post.
The leader had a brilliant inspiration just then. We would have a day
at pig-sticking. He was great after pig in India, and of course where we
were was quite the right sort of country. I won’t say we had the right
sort of mounts. They did not understand the chase of a pig, did not
yearn to, and certainly never fathomed the secret.
First, we were explained to about the rules of the game. Then Clarence
and some hunters were told off to beat, and we saw to the spears,
tipping them, choosing the most likely from the collected ones
belonging to our men. I was allowed to wield a light one, being still
a semi-invalid. We all rode out towards the Toyo Plain, the men walking
behind. I think I have forgotten to mention the fact that Cecily and I
rode astride. That torturing, awkward, and most uncomfortable position
which is at home considered the correct way to sit a horse would have
been impossible in Somaliland, not to say dangerous, living under our
present conditions.
The men beat every bush and blade of grass most conscientiously, but
at first nothing resulted. On nearing the Toyo, however, we joyfully
discovered that a bit of thick thorn cover concealed a small sounder of
wart-hog. They scattered as we rode into them.
Cecily smartly detached one of them, which immediately charged away
back into the fastnesses of the waving grass of the “bun.” A grand
hiding-place, and I feared we had lost the treasure. The leader and
Ralph dashed like lightning after the pig, and rounded it up in style.
Back it came like a whirlwind, and made for the open again. I rode at
him, thinking I was doing quite the right thing, and wild to draw first
blood, when Ralph signalled “Sow.” I was going far too quickly to draw
up, my stirrup leather broke, and the consequence was the pig and my
steed cannoned violently, and bang over I went. I called to the others
not on any account to stop, but to pursue the vanished sounder before it
was too late. This they did, and disappeared in a moment.
After I had sorted myself from out the pony, and with Clarence’s help
picked sundry bits of the landscape off my clothes, I mounted again, and
following the trail of the others, and led by their shouts, I arrived
on the scene of action just as one spear--Ralph’s--was taken. I tried to
join the exciting chase that ensued, but my pony would not see the thing
through, and disgraced me and itself every “jink.” The leader’s spear
now flashed about so very quickly I could hardly follow each phase of
the game, intent as I was on forcing my pony to take a hand in it. The
boar charged several times most ferociously, but the nimble warrior
parried each onslaught successfully. The boar was indeed a game one,
and nothing could hold him. Ralph and his pony went down like ninepins
before him, but the effort was the gallant hog’s last. The leader pinned
him down, and that spear was the _coup-de-grâce._
They said Cecily and I did very well for complete novices at the sport,
but I can’t see that we did anything but get in the way. It was all very
exciting, and we were no end done up by the time we made camp again.
Cecily’s pony had a nasty gash as a reminder of the fray. Ralph stitched
it up most scientifically. We were promised the tushes of the boar, set
up in some way, as a souvenir of the great adventure.
One late afternoon Cecily went off with Ralph and Clarence for a final
attempt on the life of a hartebeest, while the leader and I peacefully
collected butterflies, or tried to, and paid a visit to the opposition
camp to see their trophies. All the skulls and skins were inspected.
They had a couple of Grevy’s zebra, having been to the Bun Feroli (Zebra
Plain), after we left them in the Ogaden, and a magnificent hippo from
near the Webbi. I felt very envious, but one can’t go everywhere. The
zebra skins were most exquisite, shining and silky, marked in great
lines of white and brown. The stripes varied very much in the two skins,
one having much narrower lines than the other. Birds of many varieties
the leader had collected, snakes too, and all the lizards. Being full
of infinite variety he loved the coleoptera as much as the flaunting
glories of the lepidoptera, and it took us a long time to go through
it, for each treasure was safely put away in its own box. We made for
my camp to find Ralph in the seventh heaven of delight because he had
brought down a hartebeest that Cecily had missed--missed on purpose,
she said, to give him the pleasure of bagging it. Anyway, there lay the
trophy, a present, Ralph said, for me. I thanked him profusely, because
our collection was not overdone with this variety.
I do not really admire this antelope very much, or perhaps I should say
I admire it less than any other, since every antelope has some points
of undoubted beauty. Their faces are what baulk me. They are so silly
looking, like a particularly inane cow--a cow’s face, and yet not a
cow’s face, and though very massive and magnificent in the fore they
pan out to nothing in the hind quarters. The horns, set in sockets,
are hardly ever the same, curving this way and that way,’ as cow’s do.
Hartebeest are the quickest goers in all the antelope world. They are
never spoken of by the natives by any other name than “sig.” And this
is odd, because in other varieties I frequently heard the correct
designation.
The best of friends must part, and we were no exception to the rule.
However, we buoyed ourselves up with the notion that it was not to
be for long. For the second time the opposition shoot watched our
departure, but this time we all had an interest in the affair--very
different to the almost animosity that actuated us at the start.
_Souvent femme varie_, and man too.
Our caravan got on the move once more. The _harns_ were not well filled
because we had used up all the water, whoever it belonged to, and this
made it necessary for us to march as swiftly as might be. We took on
three of the most terrific treks, for length and weariness unsurpassed.
The track was fortunately good, but the dust was absolutely blinding,
blowing before the wind in clouds, and once or twice during the march
I had the tent pitched that we might rest awhile in a slightly clearer
atmosphere. Our small quantity of water was used almost at once, and
the last march on the Haud was a forced one indeed. We lumbered on long
after darkness had fallen, and reached some wells, apparently free,
about eleven o’clock. The men formed a rough zareba, but we were all too
tired to trouble much, and after watering the animals by the light of
the watch fires we had supper and turned in.
The Haud now was safely over, and before us lay the great ascent of the
Golis range. The gradual rise began to be felt after the second day’s
march. We saw numerous Speke’s gazelle, and Cecily bagged a fine male,
after a prolonged chase, that took her some miles from camp. I was
nearly out of my senses with toothache, a grievous pain indeed, and one
so impossible almost, under the circumstances, to cure. Dentistry was
beyond us.
For two days I trekked in a state of semi-delirium. I got no peace at
night nor by day, until at last I hit on a glorious panacea. We had
finished a huge day, and on turning in for another sleepless night I
decided to drink enough whisky to paralyse me _and_ the tooth. A very
little spirit overcomes me. I mixed half a tumbler full of whisky with
precious little water--drank it--and knew no more till morning!
The thing worked like a charm. The tooth had given over aching, and bar
a dark brown taste in my mouth I was none the worse for my carouse.
We saw a couple of oryx out early, and dashed off after them. Ponies
were of no use now, and had to be left behind. I crawled along such
stony ground I wore down to my bare knees in no time, and then only got
within range as the oryx sped away again. They sailed so gracefully over
the rough ground, and no obstacle barred their way. Cecily was posted on
a small rise beneath which the oryx passed, and got in a telling shot,
running down to see the result. We were exceedingly foolish in what we
did, after all the experience we had too. Seeing the oryx was hard hit
we ran towards him, and he who looked at first like dying as suddenly
rose to his feet and ran towards us head down for the charge, his whole
weight set for the blow. Perdition catch our stupidity! Did we not know
the strength and power of those rapier horns? Cecily was taken back with
the onslaught for a moment, and then dashed precipitately behind a clump
of aloes. I dropped on one knee to try and get a surer shot, to rise
next moment to dodge and flee. My very ignominious flight was my
cousin’s opportunity. The buck followed me, she followed him,
and getting in a close raking shot, finished what looked like the
commencement of an ugly affair. This was our last oryx of the trip, and
a very fair specimen. The skin of his neck was quite half an inch in
thickness, a veritable armour-plate. I did not know until later that the
best and most desired shields are got from the neck skin, the shoulder
providing the second quality only.
Higher and higher we climbed each trek, the going much slower now.
The camels took their time over the so far simple ascent. We sighted
gerenük many times, both when riding alone and with the caravan. Many
times we pursued them, and as many times returned discouraged. Stalking
was a very difficult business here, the bushes all grew aslant, and the
buck had a perfection of balance unknown to us. One try of Cecily’s very
much amused us. She got a chance at a gerenük, after a stiff pursuit
over hill and down dale, fired, and the kick from her rifle overbalanced
her as she clung with uncertain feet to the hillside, and she slid like
an animated toboggan downwards. Goodness knows where the gerenük or the
bullet went to.
We camped on a beautiful range one night, where a small plateau seemed
to invite us to rest awhile. The sun was just setting, and the mighty
mountains around were bathed in a roseate glow. It was a most perfect
scene. The camp that night was like a biblical picture--the sleeping
camels, the recumbent forms of their drivers, and over all a sky of such
wondrous blue dotted with stars innumerable.
Next the sublime is always the ridiculous. Another camel man fell sick
here, but his case was not really genuine, I verily believe. Cecily and
I feigned to have found among our things a medicine of most marvellous
properties, warranted to cure in one dose all the ills that flesh is
heir to. Quinine was its name really, and Clarence dosed the Somali with
it, and the curative effect was at once apparent.
Jackals were here very plentiful, too much so for our peace and quiet.
They came prowling round the camp in ones and twos seeking for what they
might devour. I shot one at night on hearing a crunching sound near
by. I rushed out of the tent in terror lest the half-dry rhino was
furnishing a succulent meal. We had no thorn zareba in these days, and
the watch must have belied his name. The stealthy prowler passed behind
our tent, and I got a clear shot between his gleaming eyes. Far too
near! I blew the jackal’s head to smithereens, and damaged its beautiful
coat considerably also. The whole camp awakened then and buzzed with
excitement, until the men knew the nature of the animal that had come
in on us. When it was discovered that the intruder was a mere jackal
matters quieted down considerably. It was no credit to them that it
wasn’t a leopard. I lectured the parody of a watch severely next day,
and as we were getting to an end of the trip our lightest words had
immediate effect. It was quite odd.
The thickness of the aloe jungle here was immense, and to penetrate
it was impossible, though constantly we longed to do so, as we heard
mysterious rustles n the density.
Our mileage was next to nothing these days, and our marches desperate
slow. But a camel won’t be hurried.
We had a day in the ravines, picking up the caravan at a given place,
taking Clarence and the second hunt with us. We ventured down a perfect
abyss clothed at the bottom in aloe jungle. It was most difficult to
keep upright at all, and we took some glorious tosses. The worst thing
to contend with was the hunter’s habit of carrying Cecily’s rifle
pointing straight at the person who happened to be struggling along
in front. It gave me the creeps to watch him. However improbable an
accident may be, we know they do happen in the best regulated families.
At last, as repeated telling him did no good, we relieved him of his
load. He may have had some method in his madness.
We heard a crackle of the aloes, and two koodoo passed in view, going
fairly hard. We hadn’t a look in, for they vanished before we realised
they were there. We crossed from ravine to ravine, and came on any
amount of koodoo spoor, and leopard, the latter some two days old.
At last, as we were giving up dispirited, sitting down to recover our
breath, a small koodoo bull passed below us, at a distance of some
two hundred and thirty yards. It was ridiculous to wait for a slightly
improved position, there wouldn’t be one, and as meat was very scarce
with us these days, I had a try for him. I really aimed in front of the
bull, averaging the pace at which he was travelling, and pressed the
trigger. It was written in my Kismet book that I might not do freak
shots of this kind with success. The koodoo saved his venison, and a
sort of groan went up from the greedy hunters. Two hundred yards is
really the limit of a sporting shot or chance, and at that distance you
cannot make out the animal’s ear clearly--my invariable test. A down
hill shot is the one most likely to fail, because it is so difficult to
judge distance horizontally, not vertically.
We had a huge climb for it back to our camp, which we saw perched high
above us, our tent looking a mere white speck on the sky-line. Once as
we skirted a thick bunch of foliage and undergrowth we heard a leopard
“cough.” We pulled up, and listened awhile, but could hear no more of
him. Firing the place was no use. The smoke might hang about, there was
little air in these ravines, and it might be impossible for us to see
clearly. We were really tired, and very unenthusiastic, so let the
matter go.