Part 6

Nomusa felt too unhappy to take any, and she solemnly shook her head in refusal. Damasi did not press her, but began eating them himself. They continued walking side by side for some time. Then Nomusa turned her head to see if Damasi had left any figs for her. He caught her glance and rubbed his middle enthusiastically to show how good the figs had been. He held out an empty hand and pointed down his throat to show where the plump figs had gone.

Nomusa’s disappointed look amused Damasi, and he could not help laughing. She decided that he was a greedy boy, no different from all the others.

But soon Damasi nudged her again and teasingly showed her the same handful of figs he had held out to her the first time. Despite herself, Nomusa smiled. Damasi had only pretended he had eaten them. This time she did not risk refusing the figs, but took them eagerly. She gave back half to Damasi, and together they walked on, eating cheerfully. By now Nomusa had forgotten her disgrace, but she did not forget to be careful.

Just before noon, the elephant path they were following disappeared into the grassy plains.

“This is the time to take greatest care,” Zitu said, and the word was passed quietly among the hunters. They moved slowly and noiselessly, searching for new elephant tracks.

As they approached a wide deep river, they heard loud splashing sounds. The hunters stood still for a moment, listening; then they moved on silently toward the river.

As they drew closer, the splashing sound grew louder. Their view of the water was hidden by what looked like a wall of large, light blue butterflies, hundreds and hundreds of them, fluttering up and down all the way from the ground to a height taller than the tallest hunter.

The chief signaled to the hunters to creep behind some bushes so they would not have to part the butterfly wall to see the river. As she came noiselessly from behind the bushes, Nomusa was surprised and delighted to see a mother elephant pushing her baby elephant into the water for a bath. The baby did not want to go in, but the determined mother was shoving it into the river with her trunk.

In the meantime, the father elephant, quite unconcerned, was giving himself a shower bath by sucking up great quantities of water through his trunk and then squirting it—_swooshh!_—over his back. Again and again the huge bull elephant did this. He was having a wonderful time. The corners of his mouth were pulled back, and his eyes were partly closed as he sprayed the water over his massive head.

The cow elephant finally succeeded in pushing her baby into the water, and she blew a shower of water over it. The little one tried to escape by scrambling up the bank. Some of the hunters raised their spears, prepared to hurl them as soon as their chief gave the sign.

But Zitu signaled the hunters not to throw their spears at the elephants. Nomusa was surprised, and strangely happy, too. The chief pointed to the elephant tusks and showed with his hands that they were too small. Now Nomusa understood. They had not come to hunt elephants just to kill them, but to obtain the largest tusks possible. She remembered now that she had heard that white traders were very glad to get large elephant tusks and that good exchanges were made for them.

The little elephant seemed very content to be in the water now, and he splashed and spluttered as much as his father and mother. In a mischievous moment, the baby sucked up a great trunkful of water and blew it full in his father’s face. Astonished and irritated, the bull elephant rushed at his disrespectful offspring. He pushed him into such deep water that he lost his foothold.

Frightened, the little elephant lifted his short trunk into the air and trumpeted frantically while he swam to shallower water. At last he scrambled safely to shore. He had learned how to behave toward his father.

The hunters moved on until they were far from the river scene. Then they stopped to eat.

They rested for a while; then Zitu rose. “We must be on our way. We are in the neighborhood of elephants, and I do not want to spend the night in their midst without locating some with good tusks.”

After they had walked for some distance, Zitu stood still, listening. The men stopped, waiting for their chief’s decision. In the dismal hush different calls of forest birds could be heard, mingled with an occasional howl from some animal. Then faintly there came to their ears the sound of low rumblings and gurglings. Nomusa pointed urgently in the direction from which the sound had come. Her father nodded, now smiling. He had heard too, and so had all the others.

Very, very carefully they moved in the direction of the sound, weapons ready. While they crept closer, stopping from time to time in order to keep away from the wind side, Zabala’s arm suddenly waved up and down in a frenzy as he saw something moving between two tall trees. A large ear could be seen flapping slowly. Yo! They had come upon a herd of elephants feeding. The hunters stood stock-still, their eyes wide with excitement.

When Zitu decided which elephants they would attack, he pointed out to each of his men what position to take. Nomusa wormed her way forward after Zabala and Damasi. She peeped through the screen of leaves to see the enormous creatures whose ears seemed to flap among the topmost branches of the trees.

Eight elephants were in the clearing, three of them bulls, four cow elephants, and one baby elephant, a very small one indeed. Nomusa drew back stealthily and held up eight fingers to show her father how many elephants she had seen. The hunters nodded their heads, well pleased with the information.

Zitu crept forward and peered through the bushes. He had to find out which elephants had the best tusks. Nomusa looked again when her father did, and now she saw a sight that delighted her. The baby elephant was under her mother, trying to suck some milk from her while the mother was grazing. The mother elephant kept pushing the little one out from under her, but her persistent baby would not stay away.

It amazed Nomusa to see the size of the bulls. They were huge, bigger than anything she had ever seen. While they ate, their stomachs rumbled, and they slobbered with their mouths and ground their teeth. None of the beasts ever seemed to stand still. They were constantly moving and shifting their feet, flapping their great ears.

Two of the bull elephants had especially large, heavy tusks. These were the ones Zitu pointed out to his men. They got into positions from which they could get a better view of the herd and a closer aim. Unless they hit the elephants in exactly the right spot, they would not be able to kill them. Nomusa knew that a wounded elephant is a ferocious beast. These next few moments would be extremely dangerous ones. Her heart began to pound so hard she was afraid the elephants would hear it.

The chief now made a quick sign. With all their strength and skill the hunters hurled their sharp-pointed spears at the two bull elephants. Nomusa’s bow twanged as she let her arrow fly, aiming for the vulnerable spot under the elephant’s ear. Zabala and Damasi hurled their short spears.

A great uproar set up among the elephants. Trumpeting and screaming, their heads up and tails held out stiffly, they charged the bushes where the hunters lay hidden.

Suddenly there was a great thud, and unexpectedly the herd turned in the opposite direction and thundered off. After a moment the hunters crept out of their hiding place to see what had happened.

One of the huge bull elephants lay on its side, a mountain of flesh enclosed in a gray wrinkled skin. Nomusa and the others stared at the enormous mass, hardly able to believe they had killed this giant.

“We were very lucky,” said Zitu. “I think I know what happened. As the herd charged at us, this one fell dead in its path. That turned the others.”

The chief rubbed his hand along the handsome tusks of the dead elephant. “They are fine tusks.”

In the meantime Nomusa and Damasi had been looking at the path made by the herd as they rushed off. Small trees had been uprooted and great branches broken off others. Nomusa stared at the ground.

“Look!” she cried. “A trail of blood!”

“The other elephant must have been very badly wounded,” Zitu said, crouching down to examine the tracks.

He stood up, looking at the sun. “It grows late,” he said, concern in his voice. “But if we do not find the wounded bull today, we may never do so.

“We must follow him now,” the chief decided; and he led the way.

FIFTEEN: A Wounded Bull

The trail of blood was easy to follow at first, but it was not very long before Nomusa understood why Zitu was worried. The sun was sinking deeper and deeper, and Nomusa remembered how quickly darkness came after sunset.

From time to time they came to large patches of flattened grass where the wounded elephant had fallen, to rise again and move on.

The hunters kept their eyes on the ground, and their ears were keenly alert to all the sounds about them. They knew how dangerous a wounded bull elephant could be, and other fierce animals might be prowling.

It became more and more difficult to see the trail of the animal, and Nomusa began to fear night would fall before they found him.

Then Sihkulumi, one of the hunters in the lead, stopped dead in his tracks, pointing.

“Hau!” he said. “There he is!”

Ahead of them they saw the wounded elephant lying against a tree that seemed to bend with his huge weight.

“He is dead!” Sihkulumi cried, and he rushed forward. Zitu spoke a restraining word; then he raced after Sihkulumi.

Even as the hunter reached him, the elephant heaved his huge bulk upright. His trunk shot out, enveloping Sihkulumi. He would surely be killed, crushed to death by the powerful trunk.

Nomusa saw her father, fearfully close to the elephant, taking sure aim. Then his bow twanged, and the arrow sped to the elephant’s brain.

The beast dropped dead, and Sihkulumi’s body fell to the ground. Zitu was beside him in a moment. Soon Sihkulumi sat up, not hurt, only shaken and frightened. But he could not look at the chief, and when he spoke his voice was full of shame.

“I was not worth risking your life for,” he said. “If I had remembered to wait for your orders, there would have been no danger.”

Zitu helped him to his feet. “I am thankful that you are alive,” he said simply. “I believe you will never be foolish again.”

He turned to the others. “We shall stay here tonight. We shall need a very large fire to frighten away animals.”

Nomusa went about gathering wood with the others, but she could not forget the sight of Zitu as he faced the elephant. This was a story that would be told about the evening fires for many moons.

The hunters cut off great chunks of elephant meat to roast over the fire. What a feast they had! Nomusa was surprised to discover how good the meat tasted. But it was very tough to chew. When everyone had eaten as much as he wanted, Zitu chose the first sentry for the night, and all lay down to sleep.

What animals howled or roared through the night, only the sentinels knew. Nomusa and the other weary hunters were awakened at dawn the next morning, greeted by the smell of roasting elephant meat.

In the morning the men started the difficult task of cutting the huge tusks out of the elephant’s jaw. It took hours and hours. But at last they were out and lying side by side on the ground, where everyone admired their size and beauty. Then Zitu appointed two men to carry each tusk. “Everyone take turns,” the chief said.

As they marched, Nomusa began to feel very tired and thirsty. Her head ached and throbbed, and although the day was not hot, she felt as if she were burning. And how unbearably thirsty she was!

Insect bites and sores on her body which she had received along the way, and to which she had paid little attention, now seemed very troublesome. Still, she was determined that she would not make Zitu regret taking her on this hunt. Not a word would she say about being thirsty and tired. But she had lost interest in elephants and in anything that was to be seen along the trail. Her only thought was of her longing for water and a place to lie down. How she wished she were with her mother. Makanya would be sure to know what to do to make her feel better.

Finally Nomusa could go no farther. She would have to stop no matter what happened. The others could go on without her.

Nomusa lay down on a grassy slope, hidden by the long grass. She closed her eyes. The hunters filed past without knowing she was lying there. How long she lay there Nomusa did not know. She must have fallen asleep.

She lay like a stone on the earth; then she became dimly aware of someone bending over her and saying, “Are you sick, Nomusa?” The voice sounded far away.

Nomusa opened her eyes. “Oh, Damasi,” she said weakly, “I am very tired, and so thirsty.”

“We have come to a little stream, not far from here, where we are all bathing and resting. Come,” he urged.

“You were good to come back for me,” murmured Nomusa.

“It was not I who thought of it first,” admitted Damasi. “While we were sitting at the stream your father suddenly missed you and asked me to go back and look for you. Let us go. I shall help you.”

When they came to the hunters, Damasi took Nomusa directly to her father. “Sit here,” Zitu said. “Damasi, bring water.”

Out of a pouch in his belt Zitu took some powdered herbs, which he mixed with water. It was a bitter drink, and Nomusa shuddered as she swallowed it.

“Now rest,” her father said gently.

As she drank more water Nomusa began to grow comfortably warm, and her cold sweat turned to warm perspiration. “Ah, that is well,” said her father as he felt her brow. “You will feel better now. I think you did not chew the elephant meat well enough. The first time I ate elephant meat I felt ill, too.” It comforted Nomusa to hear this.

Before long Nomusa felt quite strong again; she was ready to get up and go along. When Zitu saw this, he gave the signal to start.

“It is not very far from here where we left the first elephant,” he said.

Nomusa kept a sharp lookout, hoping to be the first to see it. But it was Zitu’s keen eyes that found the animal. The chief stopped, frowning.

“_Hau!_” he cried. “What is this?”

There, swarming over the elephant like black ants, were many tiny dark people. Who were they and what were they doing on her father’s elephant? Nomusa wondered. There would certainly be trouble now. Nomusa saw the faces of her father and the other hunters fill with anger. Chief Zitu shouted, “We killed this elephant! It belongs to us!”

The small people answered in a storm of words none of the Zulus understood. Threateningly they picked up their toylike bows and arrows. The Zulu hunters raised their spears, ready to use them at a word from their chief. Nomusa was excited and afraid too. There would surely be a terrible fight.

But Zitu spoke to them again, in a quieter tone. He made signs with his hands, saying that he and his men must have the tusks, but the little people could have the rest of the elephant. At last they understood, and they laid down their weapons, to the great relief of all. The Zulus, too, dropped their weapons on the ground and slowly approached the dead elephant.

The small people began cutting open the huge animal. As Nomusa watched, she saw how carefully they pulled out the eyelashes and the long hairs from the elephant’s ears. They seemed to treasure these especially. Some of them were cutting off chunks of elephant meat and eating it raw. How sick they will be! thought Nomusa.

Full of curiosity about these small people, Nomusa drew near her father and asked, “My father, who are these strange people? They do not seem at all like us.”

“They are Pygmies, who live in the forest here,” Zitu replied. “Only once before have I ever met any, and that was when we had gone on a hunt ten sleeps away. These Pygmies have wandered a long distance from their home, far to the north.”

Nomusa kept her eyes fixed on the fascinating little people. She noticed that the tallest among them was just a little taller than she was. They were lighter in color than the Zulus, and much hairier.

While the hunters were hacking out the elephant’s tusks, Nomusa stayed close to the Pygmies so she could learn as much as possible about them. They wore nothing but a small flap of eland skin below their fat bellies and had no ornaments of any kind. To Nomusa they looked very drab and bare without beads or bracelets. Their arms seemed too long for their bodies; their legs were short; their feet were very large. But their toes were the most remarkable of all. They were so long that they looked more like fingers than toes. How wonderful they must be for climbing trees! thought Nomusa.

The Pygmies moved quickly and seemed to have a natural cleverness in doing things. Nomusa felt much attracted to the little people when she saw how merry and playful they were, how helpful and kind to each other.

Some of them had made a fire and were smoking large chunks of elephant meat on pointed sticks. Others crawled inside the elephant and cut out the heart and liver, handing them to others on the outside.

After a while Nomusa noticed that from time to time a few Pygmies would disappear into the forest, carrying smoked meat on long sticks. She wondered where they went. Perhaps her father would let her follow them.

But this was no time to ask for a favor. Zitu was busy, and he did not like working with so many Pygmies swarming about him. They got in his way so that it was difficult to move without bumping into one of them. The little people were as curious about the Zulus as Nomusa was about the Pygmies.

When she saw her father looking more cheerful, Nomusa went to him and said, “My father, I am very curious about these small people and how they live. May I follow one of them when he goes into the forest?”

Zitu was silent for a moment, and Nomusa thought he was angry at her foolish request. But he only turned his head and called: “Sikhulumi! Come!”

Sikhulumi came quickly, and Zitu said: “My daughter wants to see where the Pygmies live. Go with her and look after her. You know a little of their language.”

Sikhulumi nodded gravely. The tall hunter was pleased and proud that the chief entrusted him with such an errand, especially after his recklessness of the day before.

Zitu added, smiling: “Nomusa seems very much interested in these little people. Perhaps you can find her a husband among them.”

Sikhulumi laughed, and Nomusa made a face.

As one of the Pygmies started off with a load, Zitu tapped his shoulder. Smiling, he pointed to Nomusa. The Pygmy grinned, looking at Nomusa with great interest; but they could see he did not understand what was meant. Sikhulumi said a few words in the Pygmy language. The Pygmy finally smiled and nodded his head. He would guide them to the place where his people lived.

SIXTEEN: The Pygmy Settlement

Nomusa and Sikhulumi followed the little man through the dense forest. He walked swiftly and quietly, half running through bushes and under low branches. There was no path, and Nomusa and Sikhulumi had to move quickly to keep the Pygmy in sight. If they lost him, they might not easily find their way back to the hunters, much less find the Pygmy settlement.

Now and then the Pygmy turned to see if they were still following. Sometimes he slowed down to allow them to catch up with him. He was much stronger than he looked. Although he carried a heavy load of meat, he did not stop to rest even once.

At last they came to the Pygmy settlement. When the other Pygmies saw Nomusa and Sikhulumi, they stopped, looking startled. Nomusa’s Pygmy companion said something to them, pointing to the visitors. Then the Pygmies came forward and helped carry the smoked meat to one of their little houses.

Nomusa saw that these huts were made of bent branches tied together with vines. Leaves were laid over the branches to keep out the sun and rain. The huts were small and not carefully made. Perhaps the Pygmies did not bother to make a better hut because they did not stay in one place very long. The Zulu huts were much larger and stronger, for they stayed in the same place for years and years.

Sikhulumi explained to Nomusa that the Pygmies lived only on what wild animals they could catch and on roots and berries found growing in the forest. The Zulus owned cattle, and they planted their own gardens with a wide variety of vegetables and fruits. They did not have to wander from place to place in search of food like the Pygmies.

Their Pygmy guide now invited them to come and see the inside of a hut. Sikhulumi decided he was too big to enter, but he urged Nomusa to go in. When she crawled in through the low opening, she saw a woman, smaller than herself, carrying a baby astride her hip. The woman was cooking something in a black pot over a fire. From time to time she left the hut, returning quickly with caterpillars or winged ants, snails or lizards. All these she threw into the pot. Once a small boy, little more than half the size of Themba, came in with a bush rat to put into the pot.

Nomusa observed that these people did not sleep on mats, but on dried skins of animals, or on leaves. The hut was empty, except for a few gourds. How different were the Zulu huts, thought Nomusa. Since her people stayed a long time in one place, it did not matter how many things they collected and kept in their huts. To people like the Pygmies, who moved often, it was important not to have many things to carry.

When Nomusa came out of the hut, she found Sikhulumi talking to a Pygmy who knew something of the Zulu language. He was asking Sikhulumi if he had any salt.

Sikhulumi shook his head regretfully. “If we come next year, we will surely bring some,” he promised.

The Pygmy seemed delighted with Nomusa. He asked her, “Are you married?”

Nomusa giggled. “No, I am only ten years old.”

The man looked surprised. He came close to Nomusa and measured himself against her. He was only a tiny bit taller than she was. As he stood there Nomusa looked with interest at a necklace he wore. As she looked, she realized what it was. Now she knew why the Pygmies saved the elephant’s eyelashes.

The Pygmy saw her interest in the elephant-hair necklace and quickly took it off and offered it to her. “Bring good luck,” he said.

Nomusa looked at Sikhulumi.

“Take it,” he advised. “You will have something very unusual to show your brothers and sisters.”

Sikhulumi turned to the Pygmy. “How do your people kill elephants?”

“Come,” said the little man. “I will show you.”

The Pygmy brought out bows and arrows as well as slender spears so small that Nomusa thought little Themba would have been able to use them.

Nomusa saw that the tiny arrows were made of straight twigs of hardwood cut from a bush. The ends of the arrows were slit and a green leaf was stuck in each, instead of a feather such as the Zulus used.

The man pointed to the tips of the arrows and spears, saying, “Poison!”

“Where do you get the poison?” Nomusa asked.

The Pygmy explained. His people searched for poisonous herbs as well as for poisonous barks of trees. They also got poison from a certain black ant whose bite was terribly painful.

With many gestures, the Pygmy explained how they climbed trees under which they expected elephants to pass on their way to feeding grounds. The men in the trees threw down their poisoned spears on the passing elephants, while Pygmies on the ground shot poisoned arrows at the animals.