by J. T. Edson
Thinking of the High Priest’s recent successes brought up another matter upon which Charole had not been able to gain any enlightenment. She was very curious about the reason for him being called back to the camp the previous day. With his interest in the foreign girl and her weapons, only a matter of considerable importance would have made him leave the hunt for the girl in his adherents’ hands. Although Charole was aware that his recall was connected with Zongaffa, that was the extent of her knowledge.
Despite all her efforts, Charole had not yet been able to find out what it was that the aged herbalist had discovered. All she could be sure of was that Dryaka regarded it as being of the greatest importance. However, she had recently been fortunate enough to have obtained the services of one of the High Priest’s serving-women. So, even if she could not gain possession of the secret, she had hopes of solving the mystery that surrounded it.
Having become engrossed in her thoughts, Charole was almost oblivious of her surroundings and far less alert than usual. She was passing along the bottom of a valley and approaching a fairly sharp bend. The gentle slopes on either side were generously coated with large clumps of bushes, some of which effectively concealed what lay around the curve. All in all, it was not the kind of terrain through which she would normally have ridden in such an incautious fashion.
The folly of the Protectress’s behavior was brought home to her in no uncertain manner. If she had been less deeply involved in her thoughts, she would have heard and been warned by various sounds which were emanating from the valley beyond the bend.
Suddenly, when Charole was about a hundred yards from the curve, something huge and black came dashing from beyond it. Slammed out of her reverie, she realized that she was confronted by just about the worst kind of animal with which she could have come into contact under the circumstances.
The Protectress’s quagga stallion was a good mount. Fast, agile, possessing stamina of a high order, under most conditions it was steady and completely trustworthy. However, there was one creature which terrified it and with good cause. During its training as a combined hunting-and war-charger, it had been attacked by a bull buffalo. Although it had not been gored or even seriously injured, despite having been thrown, the fright which it had received had made it unreliable in the presence of such an animal.
Already being pursued by the party of hunters whom Charole was meaning to join, the enormous bull buffalo took the gravest exception to finding its path being blocked by yet another rider. Letting out a thunderous bellow, it tossed the great, fifty-eight-inch span of its massive curved horns and rushed onwards with the intention of removing the latest and closest of its human foes.
Unfortunately for Charole, the realization of her peril came just a moment too late.
Letting out a startled scream at the sight of what it regarded as being a mortal enemy, the previously well-behaved quagga displayed its antipathy. Its erstwhile leisurely walking gait changed abruptly into a rearing pivot and lunge away from the source of its terror.
Such was the violence of the quagga’s panic-induced reaction and the change in its motions that Charole, taken completely unawares, was unable to counter them. Nor, excellent rider though she was, could she avert the disaster which befell her.
Slipping backwards as the quagga reared, the Protectress began to tighten her legs so that she would not slide over the cantle. While she succeeded, the turning movement tilted her to the right and as her mount started to run the propulsion of its hindquarters’ powerful thrust dislodged her. Instinctively kicking her left leg free as she felt herself being thrown from the saddle, she found to her dismay that her right foot had become entangled with the stirrup iron. So, while she had just enough coordination to break some of the force with which she hit the ground, she could not prevent herself from being dragged along as her mount bolted. Nor, with the buffalo thundering after them, was there any likelihood of the quagga heeding the gasped out commands to stop that she was giving it.
From behind the clump of bushes, where he had halted and taken cover when Charole first came into view, Bunduki watched what was happening. Although—even dressed as he was—he had no wish to come into contact with a member of the Mun-Gatah nation, he realized that the woman was in deadly peril and needed help.
After having spent a restless, anxious and worrying night, the blond giant had set out to find his adoptive cousin as soon as day had broken. He had killed a bush-buck before parting from Joar-Fane and At-Vee, leaving them with sufficient meat to last until the hunter’s ankle was healed. Promising that he would return if he was successful in his bid to locate and rescue Dawn, he had made preparations for the quest.
Having learned from At-Vee that the Mun-Gatahs lived on the open plains, along with such other details as the hunter could supply to augment the scanty information already given by Joar-Fane, Bunduki had appreciated the difficulties of tracking Dawns captors without being seen. That would apply particularly as he intended to make use of the zebras which had belonged to Joar-Fane’s late pursuers.
Returning to the clearing where the fight had taken place, the blond giant had removed the garments from the man whose back he had broken. He had known that his blond hair and lighter skin would give him away, so he had also donned his victim’s sleeveless over-tunic with the rearing quagga insignia. According to At-Vee, members of the People-Taker’s escorts always wore them. With its cowl drawn up, it would conceal his hair and face more effectively than one of the leather helmets. The corpse’s greaves and sandals, although the former were a rather tight fit, had completed the disguise.
The next problem to be faced had been that of armament. When discussing his plan with the Telonga couple, Bunduki had reluctantly concluded that he could not take along his bow and arrows if he wanted his disguise to serve its purpose. The Mun-Gatahs never used such weapons. Even if they had, the bows would not have been like the blond giant’s fiber glass Bear Super Kodiak. If the Mun-Gatah saw what appeared to be a member of their nation armed in such a fashion it would arouse interest, if not outright suspicion, which it was important that he should avoid.
Having given the matter some thought and talked it over with At-Vee, Bunduki had decided to restrict his weapons to the Smithsonian bowie knife and the spears that were hanging from the three zebras’ saddles. He had examined one of them and felt sure he could use it effectively if the need arose. So he had left Dawn’s and his bows with the two Telongas. As At-Vee had disclaimed all knowledge of archery, although some of his people’s hunters practiced it, the blond giant had unstrung both of the bows.
Setting off upstream in the direction from which At-Vee had heard Dawn give the distress call of a she-Mangani, Bunduki had ridden one of the ocha-gatahs and led the other and the banar-gatah. That had been less difficult than he had anticipated as all of the animals were used to being handled in such a fashion. He had found Dawn’s and her pursuers’ tracks, following them to the clearing in which she had been captured. The patches of dried blood on the ground had been sufficiently disturbing for him to have investigated the bushes around and he had found the two bodies. Realizing that Dawn could not have inflicted the injuries, particularly as the corpses’ zebras had been slaughtered in the hiding place, he had deduced what must have happened.
Following the signs left by Dawn and her captors, Bunduki had found the third of Charole’s murdered supporters along with his dead banar-gatah. The discovery had increased the blond giant’s deep concern for his adoptive cousin’s welfare. Even without the stories told by the Telonga couple, he realized that the Mun-Gatahs were a ruthless race who had small regard for the sanctity of human life.
Pressing on at the best speed his acquired mounts could manage, Bunduki rode relay on the two ocha-gatahs. He was reserving the banar-gatah, which was superior in quality, to be used in case of an emergency.
Reading the tracks had been somewhat easier out on the plains and the blond giant was making good time. For all that, the party he was follo
wing had had such a lead, he had not caught even a distant glimpse of them. The tracks appeared to be heading towards some smoke which was rising a long way ahead, but he was disinclined to take the chance that it was their destination and he continued following the trail.
Like Dawn, Bunduki had been impressed by the vast quantity and variety of the wild life that he had seen. However, such was the urgency of the situation and the need to keep watch for human enemies that he had taken neither the interest nor the pleasure in the animals which would have been the case in less demanding circumstances.
Once Bunduki had crossed the river, after having made a detour to examine what the hyenas and vultures had left of the two dead Mun-Gatah scouts and the zebra near the chasm, he had ridden upstream to the ford. He had been almost certain that the party he was following were going to the source of the smoke. Exercising greater caution because of the proof that there were other people—most probably Mun-Gatahs—in the area, he avoided showing himself upon the sky-line without first having scanned the terrain. As far as possible he kept to ground which offered some kind of concealment.
Bunduki had been descending into the valley when he had seen Charole and he had taken cover behind a sizeable clump of bushes. Such had been the Protectress’s preoccupation with her various problems that she had been unaware of the blond giant’s presence. He had considered that was all to the good. While his disguise would have been satisfactory at a distance, it would not have stood up to an examination at close range. The chief danger, to his way of thinking, had been that her mount would catch his zebras’ scent and warn her that he was there. However, before she had gone far enough beyond his position, the buffalo had made its appearance.
Seeing Charole thrown and dragged by the animal which he identified as a quagga, Bunduki did not hesitate before going to her assistance. Nor did he give any thought to various sounds that suggested he might be doing the very thing he had hoped to avoid, allow himself to be seen by members of the Mun-Gatah nation.
Despite his size, Bunduki was a light rider and capable of sitting his mount so as to take less out of it than would a smaller, but less skilled, person. However, he had pushed the two ocha-gatahs hard and, about a quarter of an hour earlier, he had finally transferred to the fresher and more powerful banar-gatah.
Releasing the ocha-gatahs’ reins, the blond giant set his mount into motion. It responded eagerly, showing no concern over being guided after the charging buffalo. Urging it to go faster, he thought how he might rescue the woman.
Obviously the first priority was to deal with the buffalo.
How to do it was the problem.
Bunduki’s mother had been the granddaughter of the legendary Texas cowhand and gun fighter Mark Counter, xxxvi one of whose feats had been to wrestle with and break the neck of a longhorn bull with his bare hands. xxxvii Bunduki knew that, although he had learned how to ‘bulldog’ as his illustrious forebear had done, it would not serve his purpose on this occasion. The buffalo was bigger and bulkier than any domesticated bull. It would have tipped the scales at more than the long-horn’s nine hundred and seventy-five pounds’ weight.
Nor did the blond giant consider that riding alongside the buffalo and trying to stab it to death with the spear, even if he could draw the weapon while travelling at speed, offered an acceptable solution. Having had to shoot some of the Cape sub-species of Syncerus Caffer Caffer—to which the enormous bull appeared to belong—on occasion as part of the Amagasali Wild Life Reserve’s population control program, he knew just how hard they were to kill, even when he was armed with a modern, double-barreled .600 rifle. Dropping the great beast using a spear, quickly enough to save the woman would be almost impossible.
There was, Bunduki concluded, only one way to handle the situation.
It would be neither easy, safe, nor secure!
As a present for his seventeenth birthday, the blond giant’s adoptive parents had taken him for a vacation to a ranch that was owned by his maternal grandparents in the Big Bend country of Texas. While there, he had become the best of friends with his look-alike American cousin.
Although Bradford Counter’s ambition had been to follow his ‘Great-Grandpappy Mark’s’ example by becoming a peace officer instead of entering the family’s very lucrative oil business, xxxviii he was in addition to either of these professions, a skilled cowhand. He had taught Bunduki to perform many of the tasks required for such work, including a method of dealing with recalcitrant cattle. As a member of the Bovidae family, the buffalo might be said to come into that category.
The great beast was running fast in its eagerness to reach, trample on, or gore, the quagga and the woman fleeing before it. However, even carrying Bunduki, the banar-gatah was capable of travelling at a greater speed than the buffalo’s thirty-five miles per hour.
Measuring the decreasing distance between himself and the buffalo with his eyes, the blond giant settled himself more firmly in the saddle. If he had had a catch-rope he would have used it to ‘take up the buffalo’s toes’, xxxix as he had been taught by his Cousin Brad. Lacking the necessary tool for that purpose, he was compelled to resort to an even more tricky, demanding and risky procedure.
Closing the gap at a racing gallop, Bunduki steered the still responsive banar-gatah at an angle that would take them to the right of the buffalo. Like all of its kind, the bull was running with its tail extended poker-stiff behind it and parallel to the ground. It was oblivious of the rapidly approaching pursuer.
Out stabbed the blond giant’s left hand, to catch hold of the buffalo’s tail. Having obtained his hold, he gave a sudden jerk with all his strength. Simultaneously, he let out a yell and kicked the banar-gatah’s ribs with his heels. Receiving the signal, the gallant animal lunged forward with an increased velocity. Even so, the blond giant wondered if it could move fast enough to save both their lives.
Due to the speed that it was travelling the massive beast was thrown off balance, despite its two thousand pounds’ weight. Its hind legs were snapped to the left and the fore limbs buckled. Turning heels over head, it alighted with a shattering crash that knocked every atom of air from its lungs.
For all the apparent ease with which Bunduki had brought the buffalo down, his task had been anything but simple. It had called for courage, skill and a well-trained mount of the finest quality.
However, the blond giant knew that his task was not yet at an end. The quagga was still racing along the valley, dragging its helpless burden behind it. Steering the banar-gatah in the required direction, Bunduki gave chase. Although he heard shouts from his rear, he did not look back.
Using all his skill, Bunduki acquired every bit of speed he could from the banar-gatah. Even so, he had to cover almost a hundred yards before he was drawing level with the woman’s panic-stricken quagga. She was hanging limply, barely conscious after being dragged so far. For all that, she could count herself lucky. The short, but thickly growing grass was springy enough to have reduced the effect of the pounding.
Coming alongside the quagga from the left, so as to avoid the danger of his mount trampling upon the woman, Bunduki leaned across. The Mun-Gatahs used one piece reins, so they were hanging over the animal’s neck instead of trailing down. Having made his catch, he straightened his legs and stood in the stirrups. Waiting until he felt that his mount’s hind legs were coming under him and its balance was to the rear, he drew back on the reins.
‘Whoa!’ Bunduki yelled, sitting down and inclining his torso to the rear while thrusting his feet forward.
Obviously the Mun-Gatahs adopted a similar method when waiting to make a mount come to a halt quickly. Obediently, the banar-gatah began to slide to a stop. Having no such control being exerted over it, the quagga ignored the command until the pull of its reins brought its head around. It swerved, tried to avoid the banar-gatah but failed to do so. They collided shoulder to shoulder and both went down.
Seeing that the collision was imminent and unavoidable, Bunduki snatched
his feet from the stirrups and dived to the left. He landed rolling, as he had learned to do when being thrown by a horse, and regained his feet as quickly as he could.
Ignoring half a dozen male Mun-Gatahs who were galloping towards him, while four more plunged lances into the still recumbent buffalo, Bunduki ran behind the banar-gatah as it and the quagga were struggling to rise. When donning the dead warrior’s garments, he had slit the tunic down its left side so as to allow him unimpeded access to his bowie knife. Drawing the weapon from its sheath, he bounded over the woman. As he halted, he bent and grabbed her ankle with his left hand. Then he slashed through the stirrup leather, liberating her as quickly as he could. There was need for haste. The quagga was almost on its feet and he doubted whether it would be in an amiable frame of mind when it stood up.
Releasing the woman’s leg, the blond giant threw himself forward. Fast as he moved, it was not quite rapid enough. The quagga’s hind hooves lashed towards him and one of them struck him a glancing blow on the right elbow. Glancing, maybe, but it was still hard enough to numb his arm momentarily and caused him to drop the knife. Carried forward by the momentum of his leap, he advanced a couple of long strides. When he had stopped himself, one look told him that he could neither retrieve the weapon nor return and mount the banar-gatah before the approaching riders arrived.
He felt some slight consolation when he noticed that none of the six had a lance, although each was armed with a sword. Nor were any of the newcomers wearing a leather breastplate. xl The foremost of them were already bringing their zebras to a stop and looking in the blond giant’s direction.
Springing from his banar-gatah’s saddle, the first man to arrive ran to where the woman was beginning to sit up and gaze dazedly about her. Her quagga had gone along the valley, bounding and kicking up its heels. Snapping an order over his shoulder as he knelt by Charole, the man sent one of the grar-gatah riders galloping after her mount. The rest of the party dismounted and, apparently having disposed of the buffalo, the others were approaching.