Outa Karel's Stories Part 7

"But Neef Haasje did not care. He danced away on his behind legs, and laughed and laughed to think how he had cheated Men.

"Then he returned again to the Moon, and she asked: 'What have you said to Men?'

"'O, Lady Moon, I have given them your message: "Like as I die and, dying, perish, so also shall you die and come wholly to an end,"

and they are all stiff with fright. Ha! ha! ha!' Haasje laughed at the thought of it.

"'What! cried the Lady Moon, 'what! did you tell them that? Child of the devil's donkey! [7] you must be punished.'

"Ach, but the Lady Moon was very angry. She took a big stick, a kierie--much bigger than the one Outa used to kill lions with when he was young--and if she could have hit him, then"--Outa shook his head hopelessly--"there would have been no more Little Hare: his head would have been cracked right through. But he is a slim kerel. When he saw the big stick coming near, one, two, three, he ducked and slipped away, and it caught him only on the nose.

"Foei! but it was sore! Neef Haasje forgot that the Moon was a Lady. He yelled and screamed; he jumped high into the air; he jumped with all his four feet at once; and--scratch, scratch, scratch, he was kicking, and hitting and clawing the Moon's face till the pieces flew.

"Then he felt better and ran away as hard as he could, holding his broken nose with both hands.

"And that is why to-day he goes about with a split nose, and the golden face of the Lady Moon has long dark scars.

"Yes, baasjes, fighting is a miserable thing. It does not end when the fight is over. Afterwards there is a sore place--ach, for so long!--and even when it is well, the ugly marks remain to show what has happened. The best, my little masters, is not to fight at all."

IX.

HOW THE JACKAL GOT HIS STRIPE.

"The Sun was a strange little child," said Outa. "He never had any Pap-pa or Mam-ma. No one knew where he came from. He was just found by the roadside.

"In the olden days when the men of the Ancient Race--the old, old people that lived so long ago--were trekking in search of game, they heard a little voice calling, calling. It was not a springbokkie, it was not a tarentaal, it was not a little ostrich. They couldn't think what it was. But it kept on, it kept on." Outa's head nodded in time to his repet.i.tions.

"Why didn't they go and look?" asked Willem.

"They did, my baasje. They hunted about amongst the milk-bushes by the roadside, and at last under one of them they found a nice brown baby. He was lying quite still looking about him, not like a baby, baasjes, but like an old child, and sparks of light, as bright as the sparks from Outa's tinderbox, seemed to fly out of his eyes. When he saw the men, he began calling again.

"'Carry me, carry me! Pick me up and carry me!'

"'Arre! he can talk,' said the man. 'What a fine little child! Where have your people gone? and why did they leave you here?'

"But the little Sun wouldn't answer them. All he said was, 'Put me in your awa-skin. I'm tired; I can't walk.'

"One of the men went to take him up, but when he got near he said, 'Soe! but he's hot; the heat comes out of him. I won't take him.'

"'How can you be so silly?' said another man. 'I'll carry him.'

"But when he got near, he started back. 'Alla! what eyes! Fire comes out of them.' And he, too, turned away.

"Then a third man went. 'He is very small,' he said; 'I can easily put him in my awa-skin.' He stooped and took the little Sun under his arms.

"'Ohe! ohe! ohe!' he cried, dropping the baby on to the red sand. 'What is this for toverij! It is like fire under his arms. He burns me when I take him up.'

"The others all came round to see. They didn't come too near, my baasjes, because they were frightened, but they wanted to see the strange brown baby that could talk, and that burned like a fire.

"All on a sudden he stretched himself; he turned his head and put up his little arms. Bright sparks flew from his eyes, and yellow light streamed from under his arms, and--hierr, skierr--the Men of the Early Race fell over each other as they ran through the milk-bushes back to the road. My! but they were frightened!

"The women were sitting there with their babies on their backs, waiting for their husbands.

"'Come along! Hurry! hurry! See that you get away from here,' said the men, without stopping.

"The women began to run, too.

"'What was it? What did you find?'

"'A terrible something,' said the men, still running. 'It pretends to be a baby, but we know it is a mensevreter. There it lies in the sand, begging one of us to pick it up and put it in his awa-skin, but as soon as we go near, it tries to burn us; and if we don't make haste and get away from here, it will certainly catch us.'

"Then they ran faster than ever. Baasjes know--ach no!" corrected Outa, with a sly smile; "Outa means baasjes don't know--how frightenness makes wings grow on people's feet, so that they seem to fly. So the Men of the Early Race, and the women with their babies on their backs, flew, and very soon they were far from the place where the little Sun was lying.

"But someone had been watching, my baasjes, watching from a bush near by. It was Jakhals, with his bright eyes and his sharp nose, and his stomach close to the ground. When the people had gone, he crept out to see what had made them run. Hardly a leaf stirred, not a sound was heard, so softly he crept along under the milk-bushes to where the little Sun lay.

"'Ach, what a fine little child has been left behind by the men!' he said. 'Now that is really a shame--that none of them would put it into his awa-skin.'

"'Carry me, carry me! Put me in your awa-skin,' said the little Sun.

"'I haven't got an awa-skin, baasje,' said Jakhals, 'but if you can hold on, I'll carry you on my back.'

"So Jakhals lay flat on his stomach, and the little Sun caught hold of his maanhaar, and rolled round on his back.

"'Where do you want to go?' asked Jakhals.

"'There, where it far is,' said the baby, sleepily.

"Jakhals trotted off with his nose to the ground and a sly look in his eye. He didn't care where the baby wanted to go; he was just going to carry him off to the krantz where Tante and the young Jakhalses lived. If baasjes could have seen his face! Alle wereld! he was smiling, and when Oom Jakhals smiles, it is the wickedest sight in the world. He was very pleased to think what he was taking home; fat brown babies are as nice as fat sheep-tails, so he went along quite jolly.

"But only at first. Soon his back began to burn where the baby's arms went round it. The heat got worse and worse, until he couldn't hold it out any longer.

"'Soe! Soe! Baasje burns me,' he cried. 'Sail down a little further, baasje, so that my neck can get cool.'

"The little Sun slipped further down and held fast again, and Jakhals trotted on.

"But soon he called out again, 'Soe! Soe! Now the middle of my back burns. Sail down still a little further.'

"The little Sun went further down and held fast again. And so it went on. Every time Jakhals called out that he was burning, the baby slipped a little further, and a little further, till at last he had hold of Jakhals by the tail, and then he wouldn't let go. Even when Jakhals called out, he held on, and Jakhals's tail burnt and burnt. My! it was quite black!

"'Help! help!' he screamed! 'Ach, you devil's child! Get off! Let go! I'll punish you for this! I'll bite you! I'll gobble you up! My tail is burning! Help! Help!' And he jumped, and bucked, and rushed about the veld, till at last the baby had to let go.

"Then Jakhals voertsed [8] round, and ran at the little Sun to bite him and gobble him up. But when he got near, a funny thing happened, my baasjes. Yes truly, just when he was going to bite, he stopped halfway, and s.h.i.+vered back as if someone had beaten him. At first he had growled with crossness, but now he began to whine from frightenness.