When Finally They Made Me Out, It Was Generally The
Big Buck Who Gave The Signal.
He went first, to be sure, but his
going first was evidently an act of leadership, and not merely a
disgraceful desire to get away before the rest did.
But the waterbuck had to yield in turn to the plains gazelles;
especially to the Thompson's gazelle, familiarly-and
affectionately-known as the "Tommy." He is a quaint little chap,
standing only a foot and a half tall at the shoulder, fawn colour
on top, white beneath, with a black, horizontal stripe on his
side, like a chipmunk, most lightly and gracefully built. When he
was first made, somebody told him that unless he did something
characteristic, like waggling his little tail, he was likely to
be mistaken by the undiscriminating for his bigger cousin, the
Grant's gazelle. He has waggled his tail ever since, and so is
almost never mistaken for a Grant's gazelle, even by the
undiscriminating. Evidently his religion is Mohammedan, for he
always has a great many wives. He takes good care of them,
however. When danger appears, even when danger threatens, he is
the last to leave the field. Here and there he dashes
frantically, seeing that the women and children get off. And when
the herd tops the hill, Tommy's little horns bring up the rear of
the procession. I like Tommy. He is a cheerful, gallant, quaint
little person, with the air of being quite satisfied with his own
solution of this complicated world.
Among the low brush at the edge of the river jungle dwelt also
the dik-dik, the tiniest miniature of a deer you could possibly
imagine. His legs are lead pencil size, he stands only about nine
inches tall, he weighs from five to ten pounds; and yet he is a
perfect little antelope, horns and all. I used to see him singly
or in pairs standing quite motionless and all but invisible in
the shade of bushes; or leaping suddenly to his feet and
scurrying away like mad through the dry grass. His personal
opinion of me was generally expressed in a loud clear whistle.
But then nobody in this strange country talks the language you
would naturally expect him to talk! Zebra bark, hyenas laugh,
impallas grunt, ostriches boom like drums, leopards utter a
plaintive sigh, hornbills cry like a stage child, bushbucks sound
like a cross between a dog and a squawky toy-and so on. There is
only one safe rule of the novice in Africa: NEVER BELIEVE A WORD
THE JUNGLE AND VELDT PEOPLE TELL YOU.
These two-the impalla and the waterbuck-were the principal buck
we would see close to the river. Occasionally, however, we came
on a few oryx, down for a drink, beautiful big antelope, with
white and black faces, roached manes, and straight, nearly
parallel, rapier horns upward of three feet long. A herd of these
creatures, the light gleaming on their weapons, held all at the
same slant, was like a regiment of bayonets in the sun. And there
were also the rhinoceroses to be carefully espied and avoided.
They lay obliterated beneath the shade of bushes, and arose with
a mighty blow-off of steam. Whereupon we withdrew silently, for
we wanted to shoot no more rhinos, unless we had to.
Beneath all these obvious and startling things, a thousand other
interesting matters were afoot. In the mass and texture of the
jungle grew many strange trees and shrubs. One most scrubby, fat
and leafless tree, looking as though it were just about to give
up a discouraged existence, surprised us by putting forth,
apparently directly from its bloated wood, the most wonderful red
blossoms. Another otherwise self-respecting tree hung itself all
over with plump bologna sausages about two feet long and five
inches thick. A curious vine hung like a rope, with Turk's-head
knots about a foot apart on its whole length, like the
hand-over-hand ropes of gymnasiums. Other ropes were studded all
over with thick blunt bosses, resembling much the outbreak on one
sort of Arts-and-Crafts door: the sort intended to repel
Mail-clad Hosts.
The monkeys undoubtedly used such obvious highways through the
trees. These little people were very common. As we walked along,
they withdrew before us. We could make out their figures
galloping hastily across the open places, mounting bushes and
stubs to take a satisfying backward look, clambering to treetops,
and launching themselves across the abysses between limbs. If we
went slowly, they retired in silence. If we hurried at all, they
protested in direct ratio to the speed of our advance. And when
later the whole safari, loads on heads, marched inconsiderately
through their jungle! We happened to be hunting on a parallel
course a half mile away, and we could trace accurately the
progress of our men by the outraged shrieks, chatterings, appeals
to high heaven for at least elemental justice to the monkey
people.
Often, too, we would come on concourses of the big baboons. They
certainly carried on weighty affairs of their own according to a
fixed polity. I never got well enough acquainted with them to
master the details of their government, but it was indubitably built
on patriarchal lines. When we succeeded in approaching without
being discovered, we would frequently find the old men baboons
squatting on their heels in a perfect circle, evidently
discussing matters of weight and portent. Seen from a distance,
their group so much resembled the council circles of native
warriors that sometimes, in a native country, we made that
mistake. Outside this solemn council, the women, young men and
children went about their daily business, whatever that was. Up
convenient low trees or bushes roosted sentinels.
We never remained long undiscovered. One of the sentinels barked
sharply. At once the whole lot loped away, speedily but with a
curious effect of deliberation. The men folks held their tails in
a proud high sideways arch; the curious youngsters clambered up
bushes to take a hasty look; the babies clung desperately with
all four feet to the thick fur on their mothers' backs; the
mothers galloped along imperturbably unheeding of infantile
troubles aloft.
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