Tales from the Veld Part 5

"Nonsense! His cry was an accident."

"Soh! Then tell me why the dogs scooted. You don't know! O' course you don't know. But I know. I've had 'xperience o' the same thing.

Animiles have got a sense which is missin' from folk, or maybe lost for want of use, I don't know which, tho' myself I think it's lost. What we call a presentment is the remains o' that missin' sense, an' animiles is got the full sense. Those dogs knew the meanin' o' that da.s.sie's yell-- that's so."

"And what was your experience?"

"It were all along o' a spring hare hopping along in the night--without enough solid body to put a shot in. It were away back in the sixties, when I were younger nor I am now, an' a sailor chap, knockin' around doin' odd jobs, happened across my house. He were a good-hearted critter, tho' terrible lazy, 'xcept it were shootin' spring hares at night by lamp-light, which came 'xpensive by reason of his usin' up the oil an' powder. Well, one night the wind came off the seas, bringing up a great stack of clouds, makin' it that dark you couldn't tell which were solid yearth an' which were sky; but this sailor chap he would go out, an' I had to go along to hold the lamp, he not bein' keerful enough to carry it in the strap of his hat. Well, soon's I got outer the door I knew there were somethin' wrong. The black night were full o' the roar o' the surf breakin' six miles away, an' yet there were the same sort of s.h.i.+very stillness you find in a great cave while the echoes are tossin' about the sound of a dying shout. In the stillness behind the holler growl o' the sea I could tell there were somethin' watchful an'

bad. I wanted to turn back, but he yelled out he yeard the spring hare gruntin', an' I were obliged to foller him inter the black, with a sickly sort o' fan-shaped light streaming from the lamp. 'Hist!' says he. I histed, an' peering ahead seed a big bright eye glancing out o'

the dark, not mor'n twenty paces off--fer the lantern couldn't throw a reflection farther than that. 'Take him an inch below the eye,' says I, an' he let rip. We went forrard to pick the hare up, but he warn't there--not a hair o' him. The grunt o' him come jest ahead agin--an'

steadyin' the lamp, we caught his eye full an' bright. 'I'll blow his head off,' said the sailor chap, and taking a long aim, he banged off.

There warn't no dead spring hare. No, sonny; but while we gazed around his grunt come to us onct more. I took the ole gun an' loaded her up.

'You take the lantern,' says I, 'an' lets stop this 'ere foolishness.'

A step or two we took, an' sure enough that eye blazed out onct more. I jes' knelt down under his arms, an' taking full aim at the eye, was dead sure I had the long-tailed crittur, fer he sat still as a rock, an' as onsuspicious as a tree trunk. An' I missed him. His body warn't there, but his grunt came jest as lively as ever. The sailor chap were laughing at me fer missin', but Abe Pike warn't doing no giggling. He smelt somethin' onnatural."

"You had been taking grog, perhaps, that evening?"

"Not a sup nor a sip. We stood there, he laughin' and me listenin' to the moan in the air, an' lookin' roun' at the black wall o' night 'Blow me!' says the sailor chap, 'if the swab ain't come back,' an' with that he took out his jack knife an' flung it at the flamin' eye, which had moved back inter the light from the lantern. That eye never winked, an'

it made me s.h.i.+ver. 'Come on,' says the sailor, 'I'll foller him to the devil,' says he. 'Foller him,' says I, 'but I'm goin' back;' and back I went; and he, not havin' the lantern, had to come along too, which he did cheekin' me the ole time. Well, before we'd gone a hundred paces, ther' were that eye ahead, an' he says, 'Let us get nearer.' We went closer, when all on a sudden that eye went out like a burnt match. Jes'

then I yeard a rustlin' noise behind, an' whipping roun', saw there were a pair o' sparkles s.h.i.+ning green. He seed 'em too. 'Don't shoot,' says I, 'it's a shadder.' 'Shadder be blowed,' says he, 'yer a ole fool.'

He were gettin' ready to fire, when I gripped him by the arm, while the hair riz on my head, for I saw what was behind those green eyes. 'Let me go,' he says, hissin' through his teeth. 'If you fire,' I says speakin' solumn, 'yere a dead man.' 'You're silly,' he says, pulling hard. 'How can a little hare hurt me?'

"'That hare,' says I, 'is a tiger.'"

"Was it?"

"You wait. You know's well as I do a hare, by reason of his eyes bein'

wide apart, only shows one eye to the light, an', moreover, he sits with his head sideways. Well, these two eyes, when I looked ag'in, were close together, an' they gave a green light. 'A tiger,' says I, an'

with my hand on his arm we went back to the house. As I shut the door I yeared that grunt ag'in--an' ag'in as we sat down listenin'. Well, that sailor chap, he warn't satisfied. He must open the door an' look out.

'Come here,' he says, an' looking out over his shoulder there I seed that hare sitting up, an' the light s.h.i.+ning thro' his body, ''Tis a white hare,' he says. 'It's a sperrit,' says I. 'Sperrit or no sperrit,' he says, s.n.a.t.c.hin' the gun, 'I lay him out!' With that he stepped out into the darkness, an' the lantern went out. Then it happened."

"What happened?"

"Something 'twixt the sailor lad and the tiger. As I searched aroun'

fer a match I yeard the gun, there were a roar and a shriek, an' when I got the light started an' went out there were only his old hat an' the gun. I'm not fooling with any o' yer tigers that's got sperrits watchin' over 'em. I'm going home in the mornin'."

CHAPTER SIX.

THE BABOON AND THE TORTOISE.

I have referred to Bolo, an old Kaffir medicine man, who, on his professional tour round the country, always remained a day or two with Abe Pike, in his way, a great doctor with a valuable fund of information about the medicinal properties of plants and roots. Bolo turned up in the evening, fresh from a beer dance, and the manner of his coming was that of a ravenous lion. He charged down upon the house in the dusk, with his necklet bones rattling, the horsehair mane flying, and the bellow of his deep voice setting the dogs off into a fury of barking, up he came--leaping, bounding, hurling himself forward with in-creditable swiftness, whirling his k.n.o.bbed kerrie, his eyes glaring and his features twitching, the dogs snapping around him--right up to the door, as if he meant to burst in and brain everyone he met. Then he stopped, smiled in a wide vacuous way, took snuff, and squatted down, while the dogs as suddenly ceased their clamour and walked sheepishly away.

"Well, you clatterin' ole heathen," said Abe, seating himself on the door-step, and shaving slices of tobacco against the ball of his thumb; "what mischief have you been up to?"

"Yoh," said Bolo, resting his long arms on his knees; "I have heard tales of the black tiger and the white man's fear. But my medicine has sent the black evil away back again to the big kloof."

"To the kloof on my farm?"

"Eweh! Why not? The white man is a great medicine man. Has he not a familiar in the old baboon--who is the most cunning of familiars?"

"That's so," said Abe gravely; "the baboon is cunnin', but he don't know everything. Did I ever tell you the yarn o' the baboon an' the tortoise?"

"No. Fire away, Uncle." He hitched himself up against the door-post and related his story in Kaffir for Bolo's benefit, though I prefer to render it in English.

"The ole skelpot, one day hunting aroun' nosed out a store o' yearth nuts. He raked the yearth over an' flatten' it down, an' he jes' crawl aroun' till the dry weather sot in, when he took'd up his quarters near the hidden store. One day he meet ole man baboon searching fer grubs.

'Things is mighty dry,' says the baboon. 'Might be drier,' says the skelpot. 'Food is skerce,' says the baboon. 'Might be skercer,' says the skelpot. 'Ho! ho!' says the baboon, mighty sharp, 'you don't seem to be troubled in your sh.e.l.l. There's a s.h.i.+ne on your sh.e.l.l, ole man skelpot,' he says. 'Sh.e.l.l s.h.i.+ne when the stummick don't pine,' says the skelpot."

"Er-umh!" grunted Bolo.

"'Sh.e.l.l s.h.i.+ne when the stummick don't pine,' said the skelpot. 'Baugh,'

says the baboon, 'p'raps you got some food, skelpot,' says the baboon.

'I'm gwine to sleep,' says the skelpot, an' he drew his head into his house, so the baboon couldn't ask him any more questions."

"Er-umh!" said Bolo, politely signifying his sustained interest.

"The ole man baboon he make sure the skelpot's got some store o' food, so he hid hisself in a tree an' kep' watch. There ain't no hurry about a skelpot, an' this yer skelpot he kep' on sleepin' all through the day, an' the baboon got that hungry he were obliged ter gnaw the bark from the tree. But he jes' kep' on watchin', an' in the dusk he seed the skelpot pop out his head."

"Er-umh!" said Bolo.

"Then the baboon climbed down softly, an' when the skelpot move off, he follow'd. Arter a time the skelpot begin to sc.r.a.pe up the yearth, an'

the baboon look over his shoulder. He can't see nothing, but he smelt the yearth nuts, an' he makes a grab. 'So! so!' he says chuckling, 'you got a fine pantry these dry times. Now you'll have to go shares, or I'll give the news out.' Well, the skelpot he sees he were fairly caught, an' so he take ole man baboon inter partners.h.i.+p, an' the baboon show him where he's 'ole is, though it were empty now."

"Er-umh!" grunted Bolo.

"Well, the baboon got a bigger stummick than the skelpot, an it were not long afore he took two nuts to one; then he began ter take some away to his private 'ole in a Kaffir plum tree; then he break the agreement by taking three meals a day to the skelpot's one."

"Er-umh!" said Bolo.

"Well, about this time the skelpot smell'd out the baboon."

"Eh-umh!" said Bolo.

"So he made a plan. He roll hisself in the mud, an' crawl up near the store, where he draw his head in. Bymby ole man baboon come up, an arter takin' some nuts, he sot down on ole skelpot to make his feast.

'Poor ole skelpot,' says the baboon, 'three meals to his one, an' a heap o' nuts in my store 'ole by the ole ant-hill.' 'Too-loo-loo!' says the skelpot. 'What's that noise?' said the baboon. 'Too-loo-loo!' says the skelpot. 'Hist!' says the baboon, knockin' his stummick.

'Too-loo-loo!' says the skelpot; then drawin' in his breath he let it out ag'in, 'Hiss! puff!' like a great big snake. O' coorse the baboon's dead scared o' snakes, an' droppin' the nuts he jest scooted fer the woods."

"Er-umph!" said Bolo.

"He jest up an' scooted fer the woods, an' the skelpot arter eatin' the nuts, he went back to the 'ole, scooped the yearth away, an' crawled in.

The baboon were very scared, but when the hunger come back he went for some more nuts. No sooner did he pop his hand in than the skelpot grab him by the little finger and hold on."

"Eh! eh!" said Bolo.

"Grabbed him by ther little finger. The baboon nearly jumped outer his skin. 'Who's got hold o' me?' he yelled, but the skelpot he can't talk, fer his mouth's full. 'Let me go!' howled the baboon, an' he pull and he pull, and bymby he draw the skelpot's head outer the 'ole. Well, the skelpot he's got a head like a puff-adder when yer don't see his sh.e.l.l, an' when the baboon see'd that yellow head glued onter his finger, he jest went green, and turned over in a fit. Bymby the baboon s.h.i.+vers, then he sot up. 'Hiss! poof!' says the skelpot, an' the baboon lit out with a shriek, never to come back to that part ag'in. 'Hiss! poof!'

says the skelpot, an' the baboon lit out fer the nex' country."