Part 8

John had had an inkling of the difficulties of droving, but the reality turned out to be immeasurably worse than the anticipation. The animals, being young, could not be driven hard; their pace at the best was two miles an hour, and often less than one, and as frequent halts were necessary, the longest day's march did not exceed eight miles. The obstacles which had given only amusement or excitement on the journey from Nairobi caused exasperation now. There were many streams to cross, and it was often difficult to induce the sheep to face them. Sometimes they were almost invisible in the long grass, and when they came among thorny bush, the men had to use their knives freely in hacking a path for the beasts, causing hours of delay. For the first week all went fairly well. The bleating of the sheep attracted hyenas, but by dint of great vigilance and activity they were kept off, and only two sheep were seized. In crossing one stream Wasama had a narrow escape from the jaws of a crocodile; but the water in most ran so low after the dry season that it was easy to examine the beds and avoid danger of this kind.

On the eighth night, however, John was awakened by the pattering of rain on his tent. It poured in torrents, and when he got up in the morning he found half-a-dozen sheep stretched lifeless on the sodden earth. It was still raining at the usual time for starting, and the animals could not be induced to move, but turned their backs to the wind and huddled together in a compact mass. The weather cleared about ten o'clock, and then a start was made; but the safari had only been an hour on the road when another downpour checked them. So it continued all day--drenching rain, with brief intervals of sunshine. John persevered, taking advantage of every bright period to move on a little farther; but when the rain finally ceased in the evening he found that during the whole laborious day he had not covered more than about three miles. Some of the sheep had lagged terribly, and it was quite dark when the last of them came into camp, and before they could all be got within the boma a couple of hyenas sprang among them out of the surrounding bush and killed several.

This was only the beginning of trouble. It rained nearly every night, and every night some of the sheep died. The streams were much swollen and flowed so swiftly that it was only with the utmost difficulty that the men prevented the animals from being washed away. One river took two hours to cross, each individual animal having to be passed over from hand to hand. At another the current was so rapid that it seemed hopeless to attempt to cross it at all, until John, with a good deal of risk, managed to swim over slantwise with a rope, which he fastened to a tree on the further bank. With the help of this, every man and beast was got across safely, but with such an expenditure of labour that all were thoroughly exhausted. That night, to add to John's misfortunes, his donkey was killed by a hyena, and he was in a state of miserable depression when he started to resume his journey.

The one satisfactory feature of the march was that the natives met _en route_ had been friendly. The food was exhausted when the safari had been ten days on the road, but they had no difficulty in purchasing muhindi or cassava at the villages. John's rifle provided all necessary meat, and at one stream he shot a crocodile, the flesh of which was highly prized by his men. But the very friendliness of the people became a source of anxiety. They offered their services in helping to drive the animals, and at the end of a day when they had apparently been very useful, John found that six sheep had mysteriously disappeared. He blamed Wasama for not warning him of the thievish propensities of the volunteer drovers, much to the surprise of the Masai, who said he thought everybody knew that a man would take what he could get if he had the chance. After that, John refused all assistance, however generously it was pressed upon him, and kept a sharp eye on the natives who hung about the flanks of the safari. With all his vigilance he lost a dozen more sheep and a fine bull calf by theft, and he began despairingly to wonder whether he would have any animals left by the time he arrived in Nairobi.

But everything comes to an end. One day, nearly four weeks after leaving the farm, he caught sight of the chimney-stack of the Nairobi locomotive works in the distance. Five hours later he trudged wearily into the town, conscious that he presented a deplorable and disreputable appearance. His clothes were torn and dirty; the sole of his right boot had parted from the upper and flapped as he walked, while that of the left boot had gone altogether, and he trod on his sock. He felt thoroughly knocked up, and after he had seen his animals safely penned, he could hardly drag himself to Mr. Gillespie's house. To his surprise nobody in the streets seemed to pay the least attention to his appearance; he supposed that such sights were not uncommon; and Mr. Gillespie did not start back with the look of horror which in his self-consciousness John had expected. The coffee-planter greeted him warmly, but had no sooner taken him to his room than he whipped out a clinical thermometer and stuck it into John's mouth.

"Thought so," he said, when he examined it. "You've a touch of fever, and no wonder. You'll go straight to bed, my boy. We'll have a talk in the morning."

After a hot bath, John was tucked up between the blankets and dosed with quinine by Mrs. Gillespie, and he fell asleep with a happiness and a sense of security to which he seemed to have been a stranger for years.

He was better in the morning, but Mr. Gillespie would not allow him to quit his bed.

"You just leave it to me," he said when John protested that he must see about selling his animals. "I'll go and take a look at them. You won't sell them for a day or two: they'll be all the better for a rest. I've just heard from your father, by the way. He's a gay old dog, upon my word, gadding about on the Continent. You must have written glowing accounts of the farm, or he'd have been back before this. I dare say there's a letter for you by the same mail: you'll find it when you get back. And how do you like ranching, eh?"

They had a long talk, and Mr. Gillespie said he thought he had done very well for the first year. He laughed when John related the incidents of his march.

"You'll get used to it," he said. "It's rather disheartening at first, but you may think yourself lucky the natives didn't bother you. When I first came out here ten years ago I had a running fight with one of the tribes for a week, and lost practically everything I possessed. Things are safer now."

John told him about the desertion of Juma with the rifles, and the plight from which he had rescued Ferrier.

"That's unpleasant," said Mr. Gillespie. "If you take my advice you'll go back by way of Fort Hall and report to the District Commissioner. He may be disposed to send a company of the Protectorate police to deal with the ruffians. I'm afraid it's not a big enough job for the King's African Rifles. Probably they won't trouble you again, however. Their ammunition will soon be exhausted, and they can't get any more."

John remained in Nairobi for a week. He found that he had lost fifty-two sheep and one calf, besides his donkey; but Mr. Gillespie said that the animals were a healthy lot, and handed over 1500 rupees as the proceeds of the sale. The cheese fetched 100 rupees. John banked the greater part of the money, keeping a little to buy new clothes for himself, a few articles for the farm, and a fresh stock of "trade" for the payment of his native workers. Then, feeling that Ferrier might be growing uneasy at his long absence, he set off one day with his safari on the return journey, feeling pretty well satisfied with the tangible result of his first year's labours.

He went by way of Fort Hall, as Mr. Gillespie had suggested. He found it to be only a fort in the sense in which that word was used to describe the stations of the Hudson's Bay Company in the Far North. A substantial house perched on a hill, with a solid stone wall and a ditch around it, the flag of the Protectorate flying from a staff in the compound, a few huts and houses, a jail, and an Indian bazaar: that was Fort Hall. The Commissioner received him hospitably, and listened attentively to his story.

"Well, Mr. Halliday," he said, "the tribesmen certainly ought to be taught a lesson: in fact, they clearly have been taught a lesson. I don't know that I can do anything. I got your message, of course, but had no men available. You see, we don't care to start police expeditions if we can avoid it. It means great expense, and we want all our funds for peaceful development. Of course if you hadn't already given them a dressing we should have had to do something; but I fancy you've given them a fright, and they won't bother you again. You're rather far away, and a few years ago you would have had a very hot time there; but there are signs all over the country that the natives are settling down peaceably under our government, and the moral effect of the crushing of the Masai rebellion has been enormous. Let me know at once if you have any further trouble."

The interview left John with the impression that he could expect little assistance from the officials. In this he probably did them an injustice. It is not altogether harmful that the settler should be self-reliant.

CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH--Rhinoceros and Lions

"I'm jolly glad you're back, old man," said Ferrier, as John marched in one day at the head of his safari. "Began to think you were lost. How did you get on?"

"Splendidly," said John, cheerful after his quick journey home. "That is, pretty well; in fact" (as his memory and his sense of veracity awoke) "I had the rottenest time I ever had in my life. That sounds a bit of a muddle, I know, but I'll tell you all about it presently. How have things been going here?"

"Splendidly: that is, pretty well; and I'm glad you're back in time to prevent me from having the rottenest time I've ever had in my life. It's just short of that at present."

"What! Have those blackguards been bothering you?"

"Worse! Lions!"

"Oh! Is that it? I don't know that they're worse than the natives, though."

"Yes, they are, because it doesn't come to a fair stand-up fight. They're cowardly, skulking brutes, and so disgustingly clever."

John laughed at Ferrier's aggrieved tone and look.

"Well, I'll get a bath and a feed, and then we'll talk it over," he said. "I hope our people have behaved well?"

"Oh yes! Lulu has been a mother to me--at a distance, of course; and Said Mohammed has been a delight three times a day. But go and get your bath; you'll stand here talking for ever."

Half-an-hour later John, having changed into a suit of white drill, was sitting at table with Ferrier in the little dining-room of the bungalow. It struck him as rather bare and cold-looking after Mr. Gillespie's comfortable rooms, and he resolved, if things went well the second year, to buy a few bits of furniture.

"It wants a woman, you know," said Ferrier. "She'd rig up some curtains and make things look cheerful in no time. But you'll never get a woman to live among lions."

"Verree true, sir--excuse the liberty," remarked Said Mohammed, as he handed the fish. "A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living."

"That's how he goes on," said Ferrier, exploding when the Bengali had gone for the joint. "That's Shakespeare; next time it'll be Milton."

"Did Shakespeare write that rubbish about the wild-fowl?"

"Why, that's the excellent Nick Bottom in _Midsummer Night's Dream_!"

"Never read it: we only did _Julius Caesar_ and _Henry V_. But tell me what's happened."

"Nothing, for three weeks, except rain. My word, didn't it come down! I'm sorry to say some of the sheep died until we thought of covering them up at night. But a week ago I heard a lion roaring in the night, and in the morning a calf was gone. Last night it was two sheep. The boma's not a bit of good to keep them out. Why don't you put up some wire fencing?"

"It's expensive, but I will by and by."

"The lion got clear away the first time, but last night I was roused by the commotion among the animals, and managed to get a shot as he was slinking off: it was bright moonlight. I'm afraid I missed: my right arm isn't fit for much even yet. I wanted Bill to go and hunt him with me; but he wouldn't. I suppose he won't visit us again now you've come back: Coja said he's sure the lion's an afreet, which is devil, I suppose, and knows when the coast is clear."

"I rather fancy he finds other game scarce in this rainy weather. It's much easier to break into the boma than to hunt game in the open, and I expect now that he's tasted blood again and got back his confidence we shall have some more trouble. We shall have to tackle him."

"If you excuse me, sir," put in Said Mohammed, so respectfully that John could not resent the indiscretion, "I will tell you of the machinations of my prophetic soul my uncle. He has a small property in the Sunderbunds; choice site, excellent amenities, et cetera. There lurks the tiger, tiger burning bright. In my childhood innocence I resided with my avuncular relative, and he being a great shikari I saw some A1 sport. I should esteem it a privilege to be allowed to give you a leg up in hunting the abominable creature. The sahibs in general have derogatory opinion of us Bengalis; but I am a Socialist, gentlemen, in so far as believing in equality of chances, and I am cocksure that if only I get a look in I shall prove to demonstration that I am full of both grit and beans."

"All right, khansaman, I'll give you a rifle and you shall come with us when we go after the beast. It may be rather exciting."

"A regular beano," said Ferrier, sotto voce. "But I want to hear all about your droving, Halliday."

John gave him a running account of his experiences, which were more amusing in retrospect than in actuality. They spent the rest of the day in going over the farm together. John was very well pleased with the signs of progress he saw everywhere. The sheep and cattle looked healthy; the second crops were in good condition; and the only failures among all the vegetables he had planted were the onions and artichokes, which had produced too much stalk and gave no indication of fruiting.

That night a lion broke in and carried off a ram. John was too late to get a shot at the beast, and next day was too much occupied about the farm to go in search of it. But when Wasama came in with the sheep, somewhat earlier than usual, and reported that he had seen a black-maned lion with his mate on the edge of the bush, John determined to go out after them at once. It was the first time lions had been seen by day, and this sign of growing boldness convinced him that it was high time to attempt reprisals. He was accompanied by Ferrier and Said Mohammed with two of the Baganda, but by the time they reached the bush the lions had disappeared, leaving, however, a trace of their depredations in the freshly-picked bones of the stolen sheep. Roars were again heard at night, and John kept watch with Ferrier in anticipation of another visit; but as had happened before, no lions appeared, and they turned in towards morning very much disgusted.

Next day John sent for Bill and asked him to lead them over the track of the lions. Meat was required for the larder, and he had determined to combine game-shooting with a lion hunt. News of his arrangements was carried to the village by one of the women working on the farm, and just as he was setting off, a dozen men arrived and begged to be allowed to join the party, their motive being probably a desire for excitement mingled with the hope of sharing the spoils. John's policy being to keep on good terms with them, he made no objection, and shortly after ten the party set off, consisting of the two white men with Bill, Said Mohammed (very proud in the possession of a rifle), and the three Baganda, the villagers following at a distance.

Business coming before sport, Bill led the party along the river-bank where he expected to find the tracks of animals which had come down to drink. The proximity of the farm had had the effect of scaring antelopes and gazelles and the timider animals away from the neighbourhood. Already John had had to go farther afield for game than in the early days of the farm a year before. The Wanderobbo found his way among the dense vegetation by following old hippo paths, which crossed and recrossed in what seemed to the wasungu hopeless confusion. But he came after some miles to a region where there was an abrupt gap in the larger trees: a fairly wide and recent hippo path led through the tall grass on the crest of the river-bank; and the party began to be on the alert for game.

Suddenly Bill halted and took a backward leap which nearly landed him in the arms of John.

"Faro! faro!" he cried excitedly, and on John asking where the rhinoceros was, he pointed a few yards ahead, where, almost hidden by the grass, lay a huge bull animal right across the path, and apparently asleep. The white men had brought only their double-barrelled rifles, which were not the best of weapons for shooting rhinoceros, and John, having no licence for such big game, though Ferrier had, ordered the natives to shout, hoping that this would scare the beast away. When it remained unmoved he went to the river-bank on the right, and breaking off some clods of earth, flung them at the slumberous creature, which completely blocked the way. But this proving ineffectual ("It's like shooting peas at a Dreadnought" said John) there was nothing for it but to try a rifle shot.

Ferrier went forward, cocked his rifle and fired, aiming at the brain; but though he was ordinarily a dead shot, his right arm had not yet fully recovered, and he missed. The rhinoceros was now thoroughly awake; snorting angrily, he sprang to his feet with extraordinary nimbleness for so unwieldy a brute, and after a glance round came charging full at Ferrier. He fired his second barrel, and this time hit; but the shot had no effect except to make the beast more furious, and Ferrier turned and bolted for his life. All the other members of the party except John had turned tail and fled away shrieking at the first moment of the animal's rising. John, licence or no licence, let fly with both barrels in rapid succession; whether he hit or not he could not tell; certainly he failed to check the charging beast, which made with lowered head straight for Ferrier.

All this had happened in a few seconds. Ferrier was running hard, but it was clear that the rhinoceros must soon overtake him, and John knew that one blow from those terrible horns would inflict a fatal gash. His hand shaking with nervous anxiety, he reloaded, but when he lifted the rifle to his shoulder he saw that he could not strike a fatal spot, the animal being directly between him and his friend. He ran after them, hoping for some chance to give him a shot. At this moment Ferrier became aware that the rhinoceros was almost within tossing distance, and leaving the path made a sudden swerve to the right, plunging into the long grass. The animal immediately turned to pursue him, for the first time presenting his flank to John. It was a ticklish moment. John knew that his friend's life probably depended on his coolness. He steadied himself, took aim at a spot behind the beast's shoulder, and fired. He heard the thud of the bullet, but for a moment feared it had not penetrated the tough hide. The rhinoceros made a half-turn as if to charge his new assailant, and John, glad that he had at least diverted the pursuit from Ferrier, was preparing to fire his second barrel when the great form staggered, recovered itself, made two tottering strides, and then fell over on its side.

The air was rent with jubilant shouts as the natives emerged from their hiding-places in the grass and ran towards the prostrate beast. They started back in affright when it made a last convulsive effort to rise. John put it out of pain with another shot, and the natives surrounded it and immediately set about cutting it up.

"Thanks, old man," said Ferrier, coming up. "That's the second time."

"I say, what's the penalty for shooting a rhino without a licence?" cried John, to cover his embarrassment.

"The same as if you shot an armed burglar breaking into your house: the thanks of every honest man for ridding the world of a villain."

Said Mohammed, who had watched the incident from a safe distance, wondered that two young men should talk so strangely at a time when they ought to have been overcome with emotion. That is the English way. John had once seen M. Perrichon in the play fling his arms round his preserver's neck and weep with gratitude. "What sickening rot!" he had said. "Come and have an ice."

While the natives were cutting up the rhinoceros, the others marched on. They had no need to shoot more for the larder; there was at least a ton of meat on the huge carcase, which would last for several days. It was now a question of finding the track of lions. John went ahead with Bill, Ferrier walking with Said Mohammed a few yards behind. The Bengali was talking, and his high-pitched voice carried well in the crisp, clear air. John heard him say--

"In my humble opinion, sir, backed by inestimable experience in the Sunderbunds, it was deplorable error of judgment to bunk. My uncle, sir, on that never-to-be-forgotten occasion when I shed the light of my countenance on his tiger-hunt, he put the tiger to dumbfounder and flight--how, sir? By standing firm as a rock, 'without or life or motion,' as the poet Coleridge beautifully says, and staring with unflinching gaze into the opposing optics. Moreover and in addition, he recited with unfaltering lips the words of a charm he had learnt from some old cock of a jogi--you have no word for that in your lovely lingo, sir, but, without disrespect, I might say parson. Tableau! Exit tiger. Triumph of mind over matter. 'He held him with his glittering eye,' et cetera."

"'The man recovered from the bite, The dog it was that died,'"

quoted Ferrier.

"Oliver Goldsmith, sir," cried the Bengali delightedly, "who wrote like an angel but talked like poor Poll. I esteem it a glorious privilege to hold communion, even in humble capacity of cook and bottle-washer, with gentleman of literary taste and elegant extracts."

The river-bank had descended until the path was almost level with the surface of the water, and passed several patches of reeds which Bill negotiated warily, saying that any one of them might harbour a lion. The white men followed him with growing excitement, and John confessed he felt rather nervous, not knowing but that a lion might at any moment spring up at their feet. He stole a glance at Said Mohammed, and exchanged a smile with Ferrier as he saw that the cook looked decidedly jumpy. Far in the rear came the villagers, eager not to miss the sport, and yet fearful to approach too near.