08 Safari Adventure (3 page)

‘Yes, yes,’ he replied. ‘I’ll see if there is any in the dispensary.’

He left the room, walked across the lounge and into another room. Hal quietly followed him. He arrived just in time to see the judge pick up a bottle from the front row and put it back behind everything else on the shelf so that it could not easily be seen.

He turned and saw Hal. ‘No Ammonium here,’ he said. ‘Never mind. I know something better. Coramine. A heart stimulant. That’s what he needs - something to keep his heart going.’

Hal agreed. His confidence in the little judge was restored. He helped him search the shelves for Coramine.

‘Hal!’ Roger called. ‘Come quick!’ Hal ran to the bedroom. ‘I think he’s stopped breathing,’ Roger said.

The warden was as pale as paper. Beads of sweat stood out on his skin. Hal put his mouth to the warden’s and breathed, slowly, powerfully, forcing air in, drawing it out, forcing it in, drawing it out, forcing it in, drawing it out.

He kept it up until the patient breathed again. But the breathing would die out once more if the heart didn’t get a boost. Where was the judge with that Coramine?

The judge came in holding a hypodermic syringe. He inserted it into the wound. That was a strange place to put it. Wouldn’t the thigh be better? Then Hal noticed that the liquid in the syringe was a blackish brown.

In a sudden panic he seized the syringe and drew it out before the judge could press the plunger. The judge stared at him with astonishment.

‘Pardon me,’ Hal said, ‘but isn’t there some mistake? That doesn’t look like Coramine. It looks like Acocanthera.’

The judge gazed at the syringe. ‘I do believe you’re right,’ he said. ‘I am happy that you noticed it. I know now how it happened. The two bottles were side by side and I got the wrong one.’

Hal was already on his way to the dispensary and the judge followed. Hal was suspicious, but his suspicion faded when he saw that it was just, as the judge had said.

The two bottles, one labelled ‘Coramine’ and the other labelled ‘Aco’ the safari man’s nickname for the deadly Acocanthera, really did stand side by side. That was natural, for they were frequently used one after the other. When it was necessary to capture a large animal such as a rhino or elephant, a ranger might puncture the skin with a very light touch of Aco, enough to put the animal to sleep but not enough to kill it, and after the beast was caged it could be revived with an injection of Coramine.

Dismissing his unkind suspicions, Hal helped the judge find a clean syringe and fill it with Coramine.

‘Permit me,’ Hal said, and himself took the syringe to the bedroom and injected the contents into the patient’s thigh.

For half an hour he kept his fingers on the pulse. At first the heart-beat was so faint he could hardly feel it. Then it broke into a rapid palpitation. That was not a very good sign. But it finally settled down to a normal beat that slowly gained in strength.

All this time the judge was pacing up and down the room with every appearance of anxiety.

‘A very fine man, the warden,’ he said. ‘We couldn’t afford to lose him. We need him to help save our poor dear animals from the hands of the poachers. It’s a cause very close to my heart. In fact I am one of the directors of the African Wildlife Society. Really, the tortures these poor beasts undergo would make you weep. No punishment is enough for those atrocious poachers. Of course as a judge I get them through my court - when they come before me you can be sure they will suffer for their crimes.’

Tears stood in the little judge’s eyes as he looked at the helpless body of the warden.

‘We are like brothers, the warden and I . If he should die it would break my heart.’ He dabbed at his eyes with his handkerchief.

Hal thought, He’s either a sweet soul or a great actor. Always willing to believe the best of anyone, he decided that the judge was a sweet soul.

But Roger was looking at the judge with his face screwed up as if he smelt something bad.

The patient stirred. The judge rushed to his side. ‘I’ll take over,’ he said. Hal stepped back and the judge took his place, his ringers on the warden’s pulse.

So when the warden opened his eyes the first tiling he saw was the anxious, tear-stained face of the sweet soul. And the first thing he felt was the pressure of the judge’s warm hand upon his wrist.

He lay quiet for some time. When he did speak his weak voice gave some idea of the ordeal his strong body had suffered.

‘Thank you, judge,’ he said. ‘I can always depend upon you.’ Then he noticed the boys. ‘You have met?’

‘Not exactly,’ the judge said. ‘We were too concerned about you to take time to introduce ourselves.’

‘Then shake hands with Hal Hunt. And his brother Roger. Boys, meet Judge Sindar Singh, my dearest friend. This is not the first time he has saved my life. However did you do it, Sindar?’

‘It was nothing, my friend,’ Judge Singh replied in his softest, smoothest voice. ‘Just a matter of knowing what to do. Coramine and all that.’

‘The judge is a very modest man,’ Crosby said to the boys. ‘I hope you watched him closely so that you’ll know what to do if you ever have a case of poisoning to deal with.’

‘Yes,’ Hal said. ‘We watched him closely;’

It was on the tip of his tongue to add, ‘If we hadn’t watched him closely, you would be dead now.’ But he didn’t say it. After all, anyone could have made that mistake - getting the wrong dope in the syringe. It must have been a mistake. What possible reason could the pleasant little judge have for wanting to kill the warden?

Of course if anyone really wanted to commit murder that was a perfect way to do it. There was already Aco in the wound. If more were injected in the same place, no one would be able to tell, even in an autopsy, that it had not come from the arrow. Hal brushed away the evil thought. The beaming smiles of the little judge over the patient’s recovery were strong evidence of his devotion to his friend.

‘You’ll be glad to know, Sindar,’ - the warden’s voice was stronger now - ‘that the boys are going to help us round up the poachers.’

‘Very nice,’ smiled the judge. ‘But, with all due respect, I’m afraid two boys won’t get far against those gangs of killers.’

‘Ordinary boys would not. But these are not quite ordinary. They’ve already had a lot of experience. Their father is a famous animal collector and he has taught them how to get along in rough country. They’ve taken animals alive, even the big ones - don’t you remember reading in the papers about their capture of the fifty-thousand-dollar white elephant in the Mountains of the Moon?’

‘But catching an animal is a bit different from a war on poachers,’ suggested the judge mildly.

‘They’ve had a taste of that sort of thing too. Anyhow,

they’ll have thirty men to help them - they’re on the road now.’

‘When do they arrive?’

‘Tomorrow at midday.’

The news seemed to electrify the little judge.

‘Well, well, I must be going. I just dropped in to see you on my way to Nairobi. I must move along or I won’t get there before night. Take Care of yourself, Mark. Sorry you picked up that arrow. Where did you say the gang is operating?’

‘I didn’t say. Their camp is due west, about seven miles.’

‘Good luck with your raid. I do wish I could be with you but I’ll be pretty busy tomorrow. Glad to have met you, boys. Watch your step. Remember, this isn’t Long Island.’ He gave them a sweet smile, and was gone.

‘You boys have had quite a day,’ Crosby said. ‘You’d probably like to rest. Don’t bother any more about me -111 be all right. Your banda is Number Three. It’s unlocked. Just move in and make yourselves at home. If there’s anything you want, ask a ranger.’

As the boys left the building they saw a car driving, away. It must be Judge Singh’s.

But there was something wrong. The car was not heading north on to the Nairobi road. It was going west.

They squinted into the descending sun and watched until the car disappeared down the forest trail. Roger said uneasily, ‘There’s something a little fishy about everything that guy does.’

The banda - to use the African name for a cabin or cottage - was very comfortable. In fact, to the boys, who had been living in a tent during their adventures in the Mountains of the Moon, it seemed luxurious. It had a large living-room with big chairs. You could sit. back and look up at the inside of the thatch roof where lizards clung upside down and every now and then pounced upon a fly. There was a small bedroom with two beds, a large bath, a pantry, and, best of all, a broad porch with camp chairs and a dining-table.

The kitchen was a separate small building about thirty feet behind the banda. A native boy came running from it to ask what they would like to have for dinner.

It was pleasant, having dinner in the open, looking out to the panorama of hill and valley and distant blue mountains. Highest of the peaks was Kilimanjaro, 19,000 feet, taller than anything else in the entire continent of Africa, topped with snow and glaciers.

‘It looks like the Matterhora,’ Roger said.

‘Yes. But it’s about a mile higher than the Matter-horn.’

‘Bet it’s cold up there.’

‘To go from here to the top would be like travelling from the equator to Iceland - there’d be that much change in climate.’

‘Has anybody ever been to the top?’

‘Oh yes. It’s not so hard to climb - on the other side. But on this side it had everybody buffaloed until 1964.’

‘I don’t wonder. It looks as steep as a wall. Who climbed it?’

Two Royal Air Force men. It took them fifty hours -one way. A little over two days and nights. They went right up the face of the wall, clinging like flies, watching every foothold and fingerhold. They slept standing up ~ wedged into small clefts and tied to steel pegs driven into the rock. One of them had a nightmare - he struggled, and pulled the pegs loose. He woke just in time to save himself from falling five thousand feet straight down.’

The sun had now left the valley of death but still glorified the snowy heights of Kilimanjaro. The white had changed to a warm pink and, as the sun sank lower, the pink snow turned blood-red which gradually became black under a canopy of brilliant stars.

The animals that dared to visit the camp at night began to arrive. The grass around the bandas was kept watered, and attracted grass-eating animals. There was a distinct chomping, chewing sound. Straining their eyes, the boys could dimly make out stripes.

Hal brought out the binoculars and looked in the direction of the sound. It was remarkable how much better one could see with these things, even at night.

‘Zebras,’ he said. ‘A whole herd of them.’

‘What’s the other noise?’ Roger said, ‘Sounds like water.’ He took the glasses. As he put them to his eyes, a monster loomed in front of him. It seemed so close that he could almost touch it. It’s an elephant,’ he said. ‘He’s turning on a tap.’

‘Come off it,’ said Hal. ‘That was just a story.’

‘No, its true. Look for yourself.’

Through the binoculars Hal could darkly see the huge beast actually turning the tap with the finger-like points at the end of his trunk. The dribble of water from the tap became a rushing stream. The elephant curved his trunk beneath the tap to catch the water. Then he threw back his head, opened his cavernous mouth, lifted his trunk, and threw the water down his throat. He repeated this act over and over again. Hal estimated that he put away five or six gallons.

But after he had finished drinking he was not done with the water. He tossed trunkfuls of it back over his body to wash off the jungle dust. When he had given himself a thoroughly good bath he grunted with pleasure, turned round, and ambled off into the darkness, leaving the tap still running.

‘We’d better turn that thing off,’ Hal said. ‘If we don’t the warden will - and he shouldn’t get out of bed.’

‘Isn’t it dangerous?’ Roger said. ‘You don’t know what else might be sneaking round that tap.’

‘Nonsense. You scare too easily.’

‘Oh, is that so? And I suppose you’re not one bit afraid. Then why don’t you turn it off?’

‘All right, I will. Just to show you what a fraidy cat you are.’

Hal stepped off the porch on to the grass. He couldn’t see so well without the binoculars. He could go back into the banda and get his torch - but why bother ? He could tell by the sound where the tap was.

He didn’t know that his mischief-loving brother had stepped off the porch on the other side and was circling round him.

Stepping carefully, Hal picked his way across the lawn to the tap, fumbled for the valve, and turned it off. He had no sooner begun the return journey to the porch than he was startled by the roar of a wild beast close behind him. It sent ripples of fear up and down his backbone. He leaped like an antelope back to the safety of the porch, his one instinct to get inside that banda and close the door. But he must pick up his brother first. He groped where Roger had been, but Roger was not there. Well, he must have heard the beast and gone inside. Hal lost no time in shutting the door between him and the angry animal.

‘Roger,’ he said, ‘you here?’

No answer.

‘Roger, where are you?’

An animal-like laugh came from the porch. A laughing hyena? No, it was that infernal brother of his.

‘You young rascal, come in here.’

Roger came in, still laughing. Hal couldn’t help laughing too. ‘So it was you all the time, you scamp.’ But he wasn’t going to let the kid off so easily. He grabbed Roger, backed into a chair, and tried to bend the boy over his knee for a good spanking. He used to be able to do that - but now Roger was too strong for him.

Roger twisted himself off the spanker’s lap and overturned Hal’s chair so that he went sprawling on his back, surprising a rat that scampered away squeaking with alarm.

‘All right, young man,’ Hal laughed, picking himself up. ‘That’s enough for now. I’ll get you later. Just now I’m going to bed. We have a big day tomorrow.’

When they were ready for bed, Roger sniffed the air.

‘It’s stuffy in here. Smells ratty. Don’t you think we ought to have a window open?’