At such times the game seemed
puzzled by the unusual aspect of things. The zebra especially
would bark and stamp and stand their ground, and even come nearer
out of sheer curiosity. I have thus been within fifty yards of
them, right out in the open. At such times it was as though the
sky, instead of rounding over in the usual shape, had been thrust
up at the western horizon to the same incredible height as the
zenith. In the space thus created were piled great clouds through
which slanted broad bands of yellow light on a diminished world.
It rained with great suddenness on our devoted heads, and with a
curious effect of metamorphoslng the entire universe. One moment
all was clear and smiling, with the trifling exception of distant
rain squalls that amounted to nothing in the general scheme. Then
the horizon turned black, and with incredible swiftness the dark
clouds materialized out of nothing, rolled high to the zenith
like a wave, blotted out every last vestige of brightness. A
heavy oppressive still darkness breathed over the earth. Then
through the silence came a faraway soft drumming sound, barely to
be heard. As we bent our ears to catch this it grew louder and
louder, approaching at breakneck speed like a troop of horses. It
became a roar fairly terrifying in its mercilessly continued
crescendo. At last the deluge of rain burst actually as a relief.
And what a deluge! Facing it we found difficulty in breathing. In
six seconds every stitch we wore was soaked through, and only the
notebook, tobacco, and matches bestowed craftily in the crown of
the cork helmet escaped. The visible world was dark and
contracted. It seemed that nothing but rain could anywhere exist;
as though this storm must fill all space to the horizon and
beyond. Then it swept on and we found ourselves steaming in
bright sunlight. The dry flat prairie (if this was the first
shower for some time) had suddenly become a lake from the surface
of which projected bushes and clumps of grass. Every game trail
had become the water course of a swiftly running brook.
But most pleasant were the evenings at Juja, when, safe indoors,
we sat and listened to the charge of the storm's wild horsemen,
and the thunder of its drumming on the tin roof. The onslaughts
were as fierce and abrupt as those of Cossacks, and swept by as
suddenly. The roar died away in the distance, and we could then
hear the steady musical dripping of waters.
Pleasant it was also to walk out from Juja in almost any
direction. The compound, and the buildings and trees within it,
soon dwindled in the distances of the great flat plain. Herds of
game were always in sight, grazing, lying down, staring in our
direction. The animals were incredibly numerous. Some days they
were fairly tame, and others exceedingly wild, without any rhyme
or reason. This shyness or the reverse seemed not to be
individual to one herd; but to be practically universal. On a
"wild day" everything was wild from the Lone Tree to Long Juju.
It would be manifestly absurd to guess at the reason. Possibly
the cause might be atmospheric or electrical; possibly days of
nervousness might follow nights of unusual activity by the lions;
one could invent a dozen possibilities. Perhaps the kongonis
decided it.
At Juja we got to know the kongonis even better than we had
before. They are comical, quizzical beasts, with long-nosed
humorous faces, a singularly awkward construction, a shambling
gait; but with altruistic dispositions and an ability to get over
the ground at an extraordinary speed. Every move is a joke; their
expression is always one of grieved but humorous astonishment.
They quirk their heads sidewise or down and stare at an intruder
with the most comical air of skeptical wonder. "Well, look who's
here!" says the expression.
"Pooh!" says the kongoni himself, after a good look, "pooh!
pooh!" with the most insulting inflection.
He is very numerous and very alert. One or more of a grazing herd
are always perched as sentinels atop ant hills or similar small
elevations. On the sIightest intimation of danger they give the
alarm, whereupon the herd makes off at once, gathering in all
other miscellaneous game that may be in the vicinity. They will
go out of their way to do this, as every African hunter knows. It
immensely complicates matters; for the sportsman must not only
stalk his quarry, but he must stalk each and every kongoni as
well. Once, in another part of the country, C. and I saw a
kongoni leave a band of its own species far down to our right,
gallop toward us and across our front, pick up a herd of zebra we
were trying to approach and make off with them to safety. We
cursed that kongoni, but we admired him, for he deliberately ran
out of safety into danger for the purpose of warning those zebra.
So seriously do they take their job as policemen of the plains
that it is very common for a lazy single animal of another
species to graze in a herd of kongonis simply for the sake of
protection. Wildebeeste are much given to this.
The kongoni progresses by a series of long high bounds. While in
midair he half tucks up his feet, which gives him the appearance
of an automatic toy. This gait looks deliberate, but is really
quite fast, as the mounted sportsman discovers when he enters
upon a vain pursuit. If the horse is an especially good one, so
that the kongoni feels himself a trifle closely pressed, the
latter stops bouncing and runs. Then he simply fades away into
the distance.
These beasts are also given to chasing each other all over the
landscape.
