by Talbot Mundy
When the sun rose we found a village less than four hundred yards away and sent the boys down to it to unpack the loads and spread everything in the sun to dry, while we went down to the river again and washed our rifles. Then we dried and oiled them, and without a word of bargain or explanation, invaded the cleanest looking hut, lay down on the stamped clay floor, and slept. It was only clean-looking, that hut. It housed more myraids of fleas than the air outside supported “skeeters”; but we slept, unconscious of them all.
At four that afternoon we had the mortification of being roused by Fred’s voice, and the dumping of loads as his sixty porters dropped their burdens inside the village stockade. He had scorned the ferry and crossed the ford on foot, making a prodigious splash to keep crocodiles away, and was as full of life and fun as a schoolboy on vacation.
“Wake up, you vorloopers!” he shouted. “Wake up! Shake off the fleas and come, and I’ll show you something.”
He had already had the tale of our night’s misfortune in detail from the owner of the only canoe (who claimed double pay on the ground that we had lost no loads in spite of over-turning. “The last really white man who crossed lost all his loads!” he explained.).
“Come and I’ll show you something you never saw before, you scouts! — you advance guard! — you line of skirmishers!”
Will hurled a lump of earth at him, and chased him to the river, where they wrestled, trying to throw each other in, until both were breathless. Then, when neither could make another effort:
“Look!” gasped Fred.
There was an island in mid-stream below where we must have crossed. The stream was straight, and from where we stood we could see more than half a mile of alluvial mud with an arm of the river on either side. The mud was white, not black — so white that it dazzled the eyes to look at it.
“Know what it is?” Fred panted.
We did not know, and it was no use guessing. It looked like burned lime, or else the secretions of about a billion birds; and there were no birds to speak of.
“Crocodile eggs!” said Fred.
We did not believe that. Even Brown did not believe it. There was no time to spare, but Brown out of curiosity agreed, so we took the absurd canoe and poled down to investigate. As we came nearer the solid white broke up into a myriad dots, and Fred’s tale stood confirmed.
They were as long as two hens’ eggs laid end to end, or longer. They lay in the sun in batches in every stage of incubation, and from almost every batch there were little crocodiles emerging, that made straight for the water. What worse monster preyed on them to keep their numbers down, or what disease took care of their prolixity we could not guess. Perhaps they ate one another, or just died of hunger. The owner of the boat vowed there were no fish left in the river, and that the crocodiles did not eat hippo unless it were first dead.
We took another tent from among Fred’s loads, changed two of our porters for stronger ones, and went forward that evening; for it began to be obvious that the speed had been telling on the cattle. We passed two more dead heifers within a few miles of the river bank, and there were other signs that for all our long sleep we were gaining on them.
Perhaps the Greeks thought they had shaken off pursuit. Judging by the compass they were headed for the shore of Victoria Nyanza, where the grazing would be better, food for men would be purchaseable, and the number of villages closely spaced would make the task of night-herding vastly easier. There isn’t a village in that part of Africa that is not proud to be a host to anybody’s cattle, if only because the ownership of so much living wealth casts glory on all who come in contact with it.
There was no means of telling whether or not we were over the German border. The boundary line had not been surveyed yet, and on the map the part where we were was set down as “unexplored,” although that was scarcely accurate; the route was well enough known to Greeks and Arabs, and other bad characters bent on smuggling or in some other way defeating the ends of justice.
We marched that night until midnight, slept until dawn, and were off again. At noon we reached rising ground, and Kazimoto ran ahead of us to the summit. We saw him standing at gaze for three or four minutes with one hand shading his eyes before he came scampering back, as excited as if his own fortune were in the balance.
“Hooko-chini!” he shouted. “Hooko-chini — mba-a-a-li sana!” — (They’re down below there, very far away!)
We hurried up-hill, but for many minutes could see nothing except a plain of waving grass higher than a man’s head and almost as impenetrable as bamboo-country that carried small hope in it for man or beast, that would be a holocaust in the dry season when the heat set fire to the grass, and was an insect-haunted marsh at most other times. However, path across it there must be, for the Greeks had driven Brown’s cattle that way that very morning, and Kazimoto swore he could see them in the distance, although Brown, and Will, and I — all three keen-sighted — could see nothing whatever but immeasurable, worthless waving grass.
At last I detected a movement near the horizon that did not synchronize with the wind-blown motion of the rest. I pointed it out to the others, and after a few minutes we agreed that it moved against the wind.
“They’re hurrying again,” said Brown, peering under both hands. “There’s no feed for cattle on all this plain. They’re racing to get to short grass before the cattle all die. Come on — let’s hurry after ’em!”
For the second time on that trip we essayed a short cut, making as straight as a bee would fly for the point on the horizon where we knew the Greeks to be. And for the second time we fell into a bog, nearly losing our lives in it. We had to pull one another out, using even our precious rifles as supports in the yielding mud, and then spending equally precious time in cleaning locks and sights again.
After that we hunted for the cattle trail and followed that closely; and that was not so easy as it reads, because the trampled grass had risen again, and cattle and mounted men can cross easily ground that delays men on foot.
The heat was that of an oven. The water — what there was of it in the holes and swampy places — stank, and tasted acrid. The flies seemed to greet us as their only prospect of food that year. The monotony of hurrying through grass-stems that cut off all view and only showed the sky through a waving curtain overhead was more nerve-trying than the physical weariness and thirst.
We slept a night in that grass, burning some of it for a smudge to keep mosquitoes at bay, and an hour after dawn, reaching rising ground again, realized that we had our quarry within reach at last.
They were out in the open on short good grazing. The Greeks’ tent was pitched. We could see their mules, like brown insects, tied under a tree, and the cattle dotted here and there, some lying down, some feeding.
“At last!” said Brown. “Boys, they’re our meat! There’s a tree to hang the Greeks and the Goa to! When we’ve done that, if you’ll all come back with me I’ll send to Nairobi for an extra jar of Irish whisky, and we’ll have a spree at Lumbwa that’ll make the fall of Rome sound like a Sunday-school picnic! We’re in German territory now, all right. There’s not a white man for a hundred miles in any direction — except your friend that’s coming along behind. There’s nobody to carry tales or prevent! I’m no savage. I’m no degenerate. I don’t hold with too much of anything, but—”
“There’ll be no dirty work, if that’s what you mean,” said Will quietly.
Brown stared hard at him.
“D’you mean you’ll object to hanging ’em?”
“Not in the least. We hang or shoot cattle thieves in the States. I said there’ll be no dirty work, that’s all.”
“Shall we rest a while, and come on them fresh in the morning?” I proposed.
“Forward!” snorted Brown. “Why d’you want to wait?”
“Forward it is!” agreed Will. “When we get a bit closer we’ll stop and hold council of war.”
“One minute!” said I. “Tell me what that is?”
“Cattle!” exploded Brown.
“And men!” added Will.
“Black men!” said I. “Black men with spears!”
“Masai!” said Kazimoto excitedly. He had far the keenest eyes of all of us.
We were silent for several minutes. The veriest stranger in that land knows about the feats and bravery of the Masai, who alone of all tribes did not fear the Arabs, and who terrorized a quarter of a continent before the British came and broke their power.
“Mbaia cabisa!” muttered Kazimoto, meaning that the development was very bad indeed. And he had right to know.
He explained it was a raid. The Masai, in accordance with time-honored custom, had come from British East to raid the lake-shore villages of German territory, and were driving back the plundered cattle. None can drive cattle as Masai can. They can take leg-weary beasts by the tail and make them gallop, one beast encouraging the next until they all go like the wind. For food they drink hot blood, opening a vein in a beast’s neck and closing it again when they have had their fill. Their only luggage is a spear. Their only speed-limit the maximum the cattle can be stung to. On a raid three hundred and sixty miles in six days is an ordinary rate of traveling.
Just now they did not seem in much hurry. They had probably butchered the fighting men of all the villages in their rear, and were well informed as to the disposition of the nearest German forces. There were probably no Germans within a hundred miles. There was no telegraph in all those parts. To notify Muanza by runner and Bagamoyo on the coast from there by wire would take several days. Then Bagamoyo would have to wire the station at Kilimanjaro, and there was no earthly chance of Germans intercepting them before they could reach British East.
Nor was there any treaty provision between British and German colonial governments for handing over raiders. The Germans had refused to make any such agreement for reasons best known to themselves. The fact that they were far the heaviest losers by the lack of reciprocal police arrangements was due to the fact that most of the Masai lived in British East. The Masai would have raided across either border with supreme indifference.
“Masai not talking. Masai using spear and kill!” remarked Kazimoto.
“One good thing our gov’ment’s done,” said Brown. “Just one. It has kept those rascals from owning rifles! But lordy! They’ve got spears that give a man the creeps to see!”
He began looking to his rifle. So did Will and I.
“Now this here is my fight,” he explained. “Them’s my cattle. They’re all the wealth I own in the world. If I lose ’em I’m minded to die anyhow. There’s nothing in life for a drunkard like me with all his money gone and nothing to do but take a mean white’s job. You chaps just wait here and watch while I ‘tend to my own affairs.”
“Exactly!” Will answered dryly. “I’ve a hundred rounds in my pockets.
That ought to be enough.”
While we made ready, leaving our loads and porters in a safe place and giving the boys orders, I saw two things happen. First, the Masai became aware of the little Greek encampment and the two hundred head of cattle waiting at their mercy; and second, the Greeks grew aware of the Masai.
The Greeks had boys with them; I saw at least half a dozen go scattering to round up the cattle. The tents began to come down, and I saw three figures that might be the Greeks and the Goanese holding a consultation near the tree.
“And now,” remarked Will, “I begin to see the humor in this comedy.
Which are we — allies of the Greeks or of the Masai? Are we to help the
Greeks get away with Brown’s cattle, or help the Masai steal ’em from
the Greeks? Are your cattle all branded, Brown?”
“You blooming well bet they are!”
“Masai know enough to alter a brand?”
“Never heard o’ their doing it.”
“Then if the Masai get away with them to British East, if you can find ’em you can claim ’em, eh?”
“Claim ’em in court wi’ the whole blooming tribe o’ Masai — more’n a quarter of a million of ’em — all on hand to swear they bought ’em from me; an’ the British gov’ment takin’ sides with the black men, as it always does? Oh, yes! It sounds easy, that does!”
“But if the Greeks get away with ’em,” argued Will, “you’ve no chance of recovering at all.”
“I’ll not take sides with Masai — even against Greeks!” Brown answered grimly, and Will laughed.
“If we attack the Greeks first,” I said, “perhaps they’ll run. We’re nearer to them than the Masai are. The Masai, will have to corral their own cattle before they can leave them to raid a new lot. We can open fire at long range to begin with. If that scares the Greeks away, then we can round up Brown’s cattle and drive them back northward. We may possibly escape with them too quickly for the Masai to think it worth while to follow.”
Brown laughed cynically.
“We can try it,” he said. “An’ if the Greeks don’t run pretty quick they’ll never run again — I’ll warrant that!”
Nobody had a better plan to propose, so we emptied our pockets of all but fifty rounds of ammunition each, and gave the rest to Kazimoto to carry, with orders to keep in hiding and watch, and run with cartridges to whoever should first need them.
Then, because instead of corraling their cattle the Masai were already dividing themselves into two parties, one of which drove the cattle forward and the other diverged to study the attack, we ducked down under a ridge and ran toward the Greeks. The sooner we could get the first stage of the fighting off our hands the better.
It proved a long way — far longer than I expected, and the going was rougher. Moreover, the Greeks’ boys were losing no time about rounding up the cattle. By the time they were ready to make a move we were still more than a mile away, and out of breath.
“If they go south,” panted Brown, throwing himself down by a clump of grass to gasp for his third or fourth wind, “the Masai’ll catch ’em sure, an’ we’ll be out o’ the running! Lord send they head ’em back toward British East!”
He was in much the worst physical condition because of the whisky, but his wits were working well enough. The Greeks on the other hand seemed undecided and appeared to be arguing. Then Brown’s prayer was answered. The Greeks’ boys decided the matter for them by stampeding the herd northward toward us. They did not come fast. They were lame, and bone-weary from hard driving, but they knew the way home again and made a bee line. Within a minute they were spread fan-wise between us and the Greeks, making a screen we could not shoot through.
“Scatter to right and left!” Brown shouted. “Get round the wings!”
But what was the use? He was in the center, and short-winded. I climbed on an ant-hill.
“The Greeks are on the run!” I said. “They are headed southward!
They’ve got their boys together, and have abandoned the cattle!
They’re off with their tent and belongings due south!”
“The cowards!” swore Brown, with such disappointment that Will and I laughed.
“Laugh all you like!” he said. “I’ve a long job on my hands! I’ll have revenge on ’em if it takes the rest o’ my life! I’ll follow ’em to hell-and-gone!”
“Meanwhile,” I said, still standing on the ant-hill, “the Masai are following the cattle! They’re smoking this way in two single columns of about twenty spears in each. The remainder are driving their own cattle about due eastward so as to be out of the way of trouble.”
“All right,” said Brown, growing suddenly c
heerful again. “Then it’ll be a rear-guard action. Let the cattle through, and open fire behind ’em! Send that Kazimoto o’ yours to warn our boys to round ’em up and drive ’em slow and steady northward!”
Kazimoto ran back and gave the necessary orders. He lost no time about it, but returned panting, and lay down in a hollow behind us with cartridges in either fist and a grin on his face that would have done credit to a circus clown. I never, anywhere, saw any one more pleased than Kazimoto at the prospect of a fight.
We let the cattle through and lay hidden, waiting for the raiders. They were in full war dress, which is to say as nearly naked as possible except for their spears, a leg ornament made from the hair of the colobus monkey, a leather apron hung on just as suited the individual wearer’s fancy, a great shield, and an enormous ostrich-feather head-dress. They seemed in no hurry, for they probably guessed that the cattle would stop to graze again when the first scare was over; yet they came along as smoke comes, swiftly and easily, making no noise.
Suddenly those in the lead caught sight of our boys getting behind the cattle to herd them northward. They halted to hold consultation — apparently decided that they had only unarmed natives to deal with — and came on again, faster than before.
“Better open fire now!” said Brown, when they were still a quarter of a mile away.
“Wait till you can see their eyes!” Will advised. “An unexpected volley at close quarters will do more havoc than hours of long-range shooting.
“This ain’t a long range!” Brown objected. “As for unexpected — just watch me startle ’em! My sight’s fixed at four hundred. Watch!”
He fired — we wished he had not. The leading Masai of the right-hand column jerked his head sidewise as the whistling bullet passed, and then there was nothing for it but to follow his lead and blaze away for all we were worth. If Brown had been willing to accept Will’s advice there is nothing more likely than that the close-quarter surprise would have won the day for us. We would have done much more execution with three volleys at ten-yard range. As it was, we all missed with our finest shots, and the Masai took heart and charged in open order.