The White Hunter

by Gilbert, Morris

  Suddenly Jeanine began to laugh. “You know me too well,” she said. Her eyes were sparkling then, and the strange purple hue gave them a most enticing character. She had wide, mobile lips that expressed her moods more than she wished sometimes, and now as she looked at John, she shook her head with chagrin. “That’s exactly what I wanted to do.”

  “I thought so. As a matter of fact, I was expecting it. You can’t do that, Jeanine. It might work once in a while, but with the Masai especially, they won’t be driven.”

  “I know you’re right, but it’s just my nature.”

  The two were standing beneath a baobab tree, and from far off came a strange sound. It sounded like “Chough—chough!”

  “What’s that?” Jeanine exclaimed.

  “Rhino. No danger from them.” John Winslow’s mind had not left the question, however, and he stood for a moment, lowering the butt of the heavy rifle to the ground. “You can’t push people. You’ll never catch a husband like that, Jeanine,” he said.

  Winslow’s words startled her. “What brought that on? You think I’m after a husband?”

  “Isn’t every woman?”

  His bold comment irritated Jeanine. “That’s what all you men think, that every woman is out to snare them. I think it’s egotistical.”

  “I think it’s experience.”

  “Oh! Have you been besieged by women panting with desire to marry you?”

  “Well, not exactly, but after all, it’s a natural thing, Jeanine. There’s nothing wrong with it. God made us that way.” He smiled again. “That’s what Dad would say.”

  “Well, I’ve had enough chances to get married. I could have been married when I was sixteen years old. You wouldn’t believe how many men wanted to marry me—for my money.”

  The words had a bitterness that rang loud and sharp and clear. Examining her face, John said quietly, “That’s been a problem for you, hasn’t it? I suppose it would be for a wealthy woman. You’d never know if a man loved you or what you had.”

  The insight of the tall man beside her made Jeanine blink her eyes. “Yes,” she said quietly, “that’s exactly the way it is. I probably never will marry.”

  “Seems a waste.”

  His words surprised her and she looked up, saying, “What does that mean?”

  “It means you were made to be loved by a man—and to give love to a man.”

  “Well—” Jeanine was taken aback. She had had so many harsh clashes with John that she could not put his words into perspective. “Where did all that come from?”

  “From observation. You’re a pretty tough cookie on the outside, but Jeb told me once that despite all that diamond hardness on the outside, there’s a gentleness you’re afraid to show.”

  “Jeb’s getting to be quite a psychologist, isn’t he?” Jeanine was surprised and at the same time strangely pleased. She had not been called gentle since she could remember, and now she looked down to her feet for a moment, savoring the compliment. Looking up, she asked, “What do you think? Is it there?”

  “Yes. It’s there. But I don’t know if you’ll ever let it get out. What I think, Jeanine, is that we build walls around ourselves. Some people build them of different material. Inside we’re one thing, but we build a wall of money or pride or ambition, and that real part of us that’s inside can’t break through that hardness. So usually it shrivels up and dies.”

  Once again Jeanine was amazed. She had not thought she’d discover this kind of insight in the tough white hunter who stood beside her. “How do you break down the walls, John?” she asked quietly.

  “I think God has to do it.”

  Jeanine was very quiet. She thought of Annie and the gentleness that not only was on the inside of the woman but expressed itself in every aspect of her life. Finally she said, “I think you’re right.”

  Then John Winslow broke the spell. It was as if he had revealed too much of himself and said, “Well, come on. I’ll show you some elephants.”

  The discussion left Jeanine thoughtful, but soon she was forced to put it aside when they reached a point when Winslow spoke.

  “All right. You’re going to see elephants like you’ve never seen before.”

  The air was quiet, but as they advanced, she was aware of a mass moving in front of her. She had been told that elephants travel in matriarchal groups led by a succession of mothers and daughters. John had slyly said, “You’d like to be an elephant. Then you could lead the parade.”

  Now as they crouched behind some acacia trees, John whispered, “There’s the leader. She’s the oldest cow, probably. That one may be fifty years old and past breeding age, but she’s got a good memory.”

  “I’ve always heard that elephants never forget.”

  “I think that’s true—about water holes and dangers, at least. They have an instinct about the seasons and always know what to do.”

  Jeanine watched as the elephant mass moved like gray lava, leaving behind ruined trees, twisted and broken off at the trunk. Finally John whispered, “Look.”

  Putting her gaze in the direction he gestured, Jeanine saw six enormous elephants emerge from the trees. They were lashing the air with their trunks, and their ears were stuck out at right angles like huge fans. She watched as they forded a deep gully and then appeared again not a hundred yards away. There was a terrible crackling of trees as they shoved their heads against the acacia trees and seemed to take pleasure in destroying them.

  The rest of the herd flowed by in perpetual motion with a strange grace, and she noticed that their ears were like great delicate petals.

  “They make a lot of noise, don’t they, John?” Jeanine whispered.

  “Sometimes they do, but we could turn around right now and find one right behind us. They can sneak up that close without a sound.”

  Involuntarily and with a start of fear Jeanine whirled but saw nothing. When she turned to face John he was grinning. “It wasn’t there that time, but it’s not a bad idea to look behind you every once in a while. Look at that fellow there.”

  Jeanine looked to her left and there, about fifty feet away, stood a huge, mighty bull elephant. He had come through the scrub and the dead wood as quietly as a shadow, and she could see the flies that gathered on his trunk.

  “Can he see us?” she whispered.

  “No, but he can smell us.”

  Jeanine noticed that John was holding his rifle in a half-ready position, and she looked up at the mighty animal that stood facing them. Suddenly he lifted his trunk and expanded his ears like dark wings. He seemed to fill the air, and the air was split wide open by a scream that shook her down to her marrow. She had never heard anything like it, and she could not even move as the beast moved toward them. She saw John lift his rifle but he did not fire. The beast was only forty feet away when he stopped. He seemed to be peering at them through his little eyes, but then suddenly he lowered his trunk, flattened his ears, and walked calmly away.

  “He was pretty close,” John observed.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought for a moment there I might have to shoot him.” Winslow turned and said quietly, “That was a little bit too close, Jeanine. Were you very frightened?”

  “Yes.”

  “So was I. It takes a well-placed bullet to stop one that close. I shouldn’t have brought you out here. It’s too dangerous. Let’s get back.”

  The two made their way back to the village, and when they told Annie about the elephant, she shivered. “I probably would have fainted.”

  “I nearly fainted myself,” John grinned.

  “Were you really afraid, John?” Jeanine asked.

  “Of course! A beast like that forty feet away? I’ve seen what they can do. A man would be crazy not to be afraid. You don’t think I’m one of those fearless white hunters, do you? Never afraid of anything?”

  “I thought you were,” Jeanine smiled. “It’s good to know you’ve got a weakness.”

  “I’ve got a suitcase full of the
m. Come over to my camp for supper tonight and I’ll take them out one at a time.”

  After John left, Jeanine was very quiet. Annie finally questioned her, “What’s wrong, Jeanine? Was the elephant hunt that frightening?”

  “It wasn’t that,” Jeanine said slowly. She hesitated, then said, “I had a little talk with John, and I nearly made a terrible mistake.”

  “What mistake?”

  “He talked about his parents and their faith in God. I nearly tried to force him into becoming a Christian.”

  “I think he’s had an experience with Christ in his life already.”

  The words surprised Jeanine. “Why, what makes you say that?”

  “Hasn’t he told you about the time when he was a boy when an evangelist came through and he prayed at an altar?”

  “No. He didn’t tell me that. He just said that he was a rebel.”

  “So was the prodigal son, but he was still a son. I think that’s who John Winslow is. He’s been running from God all these years. I think I can see the Spirit of God in him. Barney told me the same thing. He has a lot of confidence. We’ve been praying together that John would come back to God. I’m glad you didn’t force him to become a Christian. It might have been hurtful.”

  Jeanine was shaken by what Annie had told her. She had not yet learned that discernment was an essential part of a Christian’s life.

  ****

  December had come and Jeanine had almost ceased to think about her conversation with John on their way to watch the elephants. For a time it had had left an impression on her, and she had modified her aggressive behavior, but as the months had passed and she seemed to see no result from their labors, impatience began to have its way with her once again. And now she was determined again to make things move faster. She had said to Annie, “We haven’t seen a single convert since we’ve arrived. Something’s wrong.”

  Annie had shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong. We’re planting seeds. When you plant a seed, you don’t dig it up every day to see how it’s doing. You water it and let the sun shine on it, you pray over it, and God will grow it. Don’t you remember the parable about the seed? The good seeds are going to come, Jeanine. You have to be patient.”

  Jeanine had ignored this good advice. She had her jaw out and her mind made up to talk to Manto, who was the spiritual leader of the tribe. If I could win him to Jesus, she thought, the whole village would listen. They have such confidence in him.

  Manto, a tall, gray-haired man with deep-set brown eyes, listened as Jeanine pressured him to throw out his old gods and come to the God that she proclaimed to be the Truth. He tried to explain some of his beliefs to her, but she was impatient. Finally her anger flared, and she said, “You are a pitiful example of a leader! We’ve come to bring you the truth and you won’t listen! Well, your sins be on your own head!” She turned and stormed out, and Manto sat staring after her.

  The same day, after Jeanine’s explosion, the two women had a visitor. It was the chief himself who had come, and there was a sternness in his eyes that neither woman had seen before. He said without preamble, “You must leave our village. You bring trouble.”

  Jeanine whirled and saw that his eyes were fastened on her. She reacted, not with humility and confessing her faults as something deep within said she should do, but the old Jeanine, the aggressive woman unable to take rebuke, suddenly rose up within her and she lashed out. “Very well! I’ll leave your village! There’s nothing here anyway but a bunch of ignorant savages!” she shouted, then whirled and left to go to the hut.

  Annie said, “Chief, she’s a good woman. She just makes mistakes.”

  “Let her make her mistakes somewhere else.” Chief Mangu put his eyes on Annie and said, “Mother Annie, you are welcome. We know you love our people. Our ways are different, but we are listening to you. But your friend cannot stay. She divides the peace.” He nodded and said, “Aia,” the good-bye of the Masai.

  Annie went to find Jeb. The two had become even closer during their time in Africa, and when she told the story, he got up at once, concern in his eyes. “We’ve got to talk to her. She’ll have to apologize.”

  “She’ll never do that, Jeb.”

  “She has to. It’s the only way. These people are proud, as you know, Annie. It’s a good and quiet pride. But Jeanine’s pride is the bad kind. She simply wants her own way.”

  “Come along. Maybe we can convince her together.”

  But Jeanine was beyond convincing. She listened stonily as both Jeb and Annie begged with her to ask the chief’s pardon and also to ask Manto’s forgiveness.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong,” she said stiffly. “We came here to preach the Gospel.”

  “But that’s not what you did. You demanded that Manto obey your commands,” Jeb said quietly. “I’m no missionary, but I know enough about the Bible to know that the Gospel works when God draws people, not when we herd them like they were cattle.”

  “Jeb, this is none of your business!” Jeanine snapped.

  “I think it is,” Jeb said. “I live with these people. They don’t see many white people here. They’re looking at us to see how we act and what we do. To see if we have honor, if we have love and dignity, and when we don’t have it, do you think they don’t see that?”

  “Well, I know your opinion of me! You won’t have to worry about that,” Jeanine said bitterly. “I’m leaving!”

  “Please, Jeanine,” Annie implored. “Don’t leave! God’s not through with you here.”

  “Well, God may need me, but I haven’t seen it. It just hasn’t worked. I’m going home. I suppose you’ll stay here, Annie, but I can’t take it anymore. I’ve had enough.”

  The argument went on for some time, but the next day Jeanine hired four bearers to take her personal possessions back to Mombasa. “I’m going to take a ship from there,” she said, “and never see Africa again.”

  Annie had tears in her eyes. “Please don’t do this, Jeanine. Please don’t!”

  Jeanine knew within her heart that Annie was right, that Jeb was right, and that she was wrong. But her pride was too strong, and she went over and kissed Annie on the cheek. “You’re a good woman, Annie. Better than I am. I’m just not strong enough, or good enough, or whatever it is that God wants me to be. Good-bye.”

  Annie stood beside Jeb, tears running down her cheeks. He put his arms around her, and suddenly she fell against him. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” he whispered.

  “She’s come so far, Jeb, and now she’s throwing it all away.”

  “We’ll have to pray that that doesn’t happen.” Jeb held her while she wept, and then finally she drew back. He wiped the tears from her face with a handkerchief, then shook his head. “Jeanine’s going to find out what it means to run from God. Somehow He will help her!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  A Matter of Courage

  “You can talk all you want to, Barney, but I’m not going back. I’m leaving Africa and I’m going back to America.”

  Barney Winslow was filled with consternation. Jeanine Quintana had arrived in Mombasa the previous afternoon and had come storming into his office announcing that she was leaving. Barney had tried to reason with her, but she had turned on her heel and walked out without another word.

  It was not the first time a missionary had failed in Africa, and Barney had been acquainted with many of them. He had gone at once to his brother, Andrew, and Andrew had shaken his head sadly, saying, “I was afraid it would happen, Barney. She may not be missionary material.”

  Barney had disagreed. Perhaps because he had seen some of his own aggressiveness in Jeanine. He had slept poorly that night, tossing and turning so much that he disturbed Katie, and finally had risen well before dawn and gone out to walk and pray. He had waited until ten o’clock, then had gone to the hotel where he had asked for Jeanine. She had come down, and there was a stony expression on her face that would brook no argument.

  “Could we have a cup of tea?” Barn
ey said. “There’s a nice restaurant down the street.”

  “We can have tea, but it’ll do you no good. I’ve made up my mind.”

  Barney was stubborn enough himself to realize that arguing with someone like Jeanine Quintana was useless. Instead he asked about Annie and about Jeb, and after three cups of tea, he was pleased to see that some of the anger had left her eyes. She was not wearing her customary “missionary” outfit but had donned a pale green dress and wore European black patent shoes. Her skin had been tanned by the African sun, but now she wore a garden hat, and her hair had been washed and now fell freely down her back.

  “I’d like to hear what happened to bring this change of heart in you, Jeanine,” Barney said almost casually.

  Jeanine took a deep breath and shook her head. “Oh, it was my fault. I am sure of that. I had a conflict with Manto, the chief elder, and he asked me to leave the village.”

  Must have been some conflict, Barney thought. Aloud, he said, “Manto’s a pretty easygoing fellow and a good man, I think. I’ve known him a long time.”

  Jeanine shrugged her shoulders and stared down into her teacup. She swirled the pale amber contents and watched it as if it had some great meaning, then looked up and met Barney’s eyes. “Probably my fault. I’m what I am, Barney, and I can’t change.”

  Barney allowed a smile to turn the corners of his lips upward. “I think I said about the same thing once, Jeanine, but I think all life is a matter of change. The only people that don’t change are dead people. Those of us who are alive change. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. I’ve gone through both changes.”

  “No. Not this, you haven’t. I’ve heard the story of your life, Barney, and you’ve been a wonderful missionary.” Suddenly tears came into Jeanine’s eyes. She could not help it. She had fought them back all night and now she dashed them away. “Well, I’ve become a weeping woman, but I’m just not constituted to be a missionary. Annie is, though, isn’t she?”

  “Annie’s what she is. She’s what God made her. And so are you, Jeanine. There are going to be times,” Barney said carefully, “when that which is in Annie is what’s necessary. But there are going to be other times when her personality and her ways won’t do. It will take a strong individual to press through. I think your only trouble is that you’ve been aggressive at the wrong times.”