09 Lion Adventure (8 page)

‘We didn’t come to Africa to sit in stations. Isn’t there anything to see around here?’

‘Would you be interested in an African village?’

‘Of course.’

“There are two near by. Mombo is just up that path a few minutes’ walk.’

‘Will you guide us?’

‘Sorry, madam, we have a job to do up here. You’ll be all right.’

The ladies sputtered a bit over this, looked at their watches, then took the path to Mombo.

The boys watched them as they crossed the open ground, disappeared into a patch of woodland, and appeared again on the other side climbing the small hill to the village.

It was at this moment that Roger saw the lion. It emerged from the woods and followed the two women up the trail. They went on, quite unaware of its presence.

Down the trail rope, like firemen down the pole, slid the two lion-hunters. They snatched rifles from the car and raced across the grassland and through the woods towards the village. Coming out from among the frees they looked anxiously up the path to the hilltop. There was no sign of either ladies or lion.

‘Perhaps he’s got them already,’ Roger gasped.

They puffed their way up the hill and entered the village. They ran between the straw-roofed mud huts and came out into the public dance-ground.

Here there seemed to be great excitement. A chattering mob of villagers was packed tightly around something that must be of great interest to them.

The boys pushed through the crowd to the open space in the centre. There they found both the ladies and the lion.

They leaped in front of the female tourists, prepared to defend them to the death. They levelled their rifles at the possible man-eater. If he made a move towards either the visitors or the villagers, he would pay for it with his life.

The boys rather expected that they would be greeted with cheers and rejoicing because they had arrived just in time to kill a dangerous wild beast. But what they heard was a great swell of angry voices. Then a big black stepped between them and slapped down their guns.

‘No, no,’ he said. ‘You no shoot. If you kill this lion we kill you.’

Hal was puzzled. ‘What’s so special about this lion?’

The big black fellow, who appeared to be the headman of the village, replied, ‘He good lion. He belong here. Just like dog, only better. He take care of us. If bad buffalo break in, he kill buffalo. Many forest pigs come, destroy our garden, he kill pigs.’

The boys looked at each other, shamefaced. They felt pretty silly. They had come barging in like heroes to rescue these poor people, only to find that the people didn’t want to be rescued. Even the ladies didn’t appreciate their services.

‘You don’t seem to understand lions very well,’ said the lady named Patricia.

‘I suppose you know a good deal about them,’ said Hal politely.

‘Yes, we do. We’ve just been to Kruger - there we drove around among the lions and they didn’t do a thing. Our guide drove the car up to within fifteen feet of them and we just sat there and looked at them and they paid no attention to us. They yawned, and they rolled around on their backs with their paws in the air just like kittens, and some of them even went to sleep. They’re just dear, adorable pussycats, that’s all.’

‘Did you step out of the car?’

‘No, that isn’t allowed. But I don’t see why not. They were the gentlest, sweetest things - they wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

‘I’m afraid you are too trusting,’ Hal suggested.

‘Don’t fry to tell me about animals, young man,’ said Patricia tartly. ‘I have pussies at home | and these are just like them. You can see what a darling this one is.’

The ‘darling’ yawned, displaying fangs three inches long and as sharp as spears and two rows of ferocious

cutting teeth and grinding molars. Patricia’s head would fit very easily in that great terrible mouth.

The village headman apologized to Hal. ‘I am sorry if we were rude,’ he said. ‘It was kind of you to come. You could not know - this is a very unusual lion. Without him to protect us we would have no crops. You have seen our gardens? Come, I will show you.’

They walked to the edge of the village to see the plantings of yams and beans and maize and coffee and fruit. Hal did not need to be told what damage these would suffer if the gardens were invaded by packs of wild pigs, warthogs, rhinos, or baboons. The village was lucky indeed to have such a strong protector.

The people, proud of their crops, had followed to make sure that the boys would see what fine things had been done in the gardens with the help of the tame lion. But the ladies remained behind. They were more interested in the lion itself. The great puss had gone to sleep.

‘Now I ask you, Gladys,’ said Patricia, ‘did you ever see anything more peaceful? Who could be afraid of that?’

‘He’s sweet,’ agreed Gladys. ‘I wish we could take away something to remember him by. A teensy-weensy tuft of his mane perhaps.’

‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Patricia enthusiastically. ‘Those toenails - aren’t they the loveliest things? So shiny, just like jewels. If we could get one for you and one for me we could take them to a jeweller and have them set in rings. He wouldn’t miss just two toenails -anyhow, they’d grow again. I have a pair of scissors in my bag. Shall we try?’

‘Why not?’ said Gladys.

Fired with this brilliant idea, and armed with the scissors, they crept up to the sleeping pussycat. They lost a little of their nerve as they came close, for the great bushy head made them feel small by comparison. Should they change their minds? Patricia looked at Gladys and Gladys looked at Patricia. It didn’t seem like quite such a good idea now.

But wouldn’t it be wonderful to show the folks back home a ring on your finger with a huge glossy jewel and have them ask, ‘What is it?’ And you reply, ‘A lion’s toenail. I cut it off his claw myself.’ And they would say, ‘A dead lion?’ And you would say, ‘No, a live one.’ And they would say, ‘Ooooo, how brave you are!’ And you would say, ‘It was nothing. They are just big pussycats, you know.’

Patricia, trying to keep her hand steady, brought the scissors close to a lovely nail. The great beast’s breath was hot on her face. She got the claw between the scissor blades. She tried to cut, but the nail was tough. She exerted a little more pressure.

Hal and Roger, returning, saw this strange spectacle -two women on their knees trying to cut off the claws of the King of Beasts, Hal dared not shout for fear of waking the lion. He waved his arms in warning but they were not looking his way.

The lion, slightly disturbed, opened one sleepy eye. He didn’t quite like what he saw and with one swing of his giant paw he swept both ladies head over heels across the stony ground to end up in a heap against a mud wall.

The lion closed his eye and went back to sleep.

Hal and his brother helped the ladies to their feet. Thief faces were scratched by the stony ground, their dresses were soiled and torn. Their nerves were badly shaken. They sat down weakly on the edge of the hollowed log that served the village as a signal drum. They looked reproachfully at the sleeping lion.

‘Now how could he do a thing like that!’ complained Patricia.

Hal sat down beside them. He didn’t like to lecture but if somebody didn’t set these ladies straight they were very apt to be killed.

‘I’m sorry for what happened,’ he said. ‘But it really wasn’t the lion’s fault. Suppose you woke to find someone attacking you with a pair of scissors. Wouldn’t you do something about it?’

‘But the lions we’ve seen have been so gentle.’

‘They’re gentle so long as you leave them alone. But remember, the lion is the most dangerous animal in Africa.’

‘Oh now, aren’t you exaggerating?’

‘I don’t think so. I’m just telling you what the great hunters and naturalists say. Records show more fatal accidents from lions than from any other animal. The famous hunter, Selous, thought the lion the most dangerous of all African big game. The two white hunters, Tarlton and Cunningham, put the lion at the top of the list. Game Warden Temple-Perkins, after thirty years of experience, graded the dangerous animals by points. Most of them ranked less than a hundred. The buffalo and elephant each got five hundred and fifty points’ He gave the lion seven hundred and twenty-five points as the most dangerous of all.’

“That’s not the way I heard it,’ objected Gladys. ‘I’ve read articles by tourists - they didn’t have the least trouble with lions. They debunked them - said they were much over-rated.’

‘Do you know why?’ Hal replied. “They saw the lions just as you did - from a car. They didn’t get out of the car. If they had, they might tell a different story. You can’t debunk the lion. How do you suppose he got the title of King of Beasts? He has always been the symbol of courage. King Richard was proud to be called “Richard the Lion-Heart”. The kings of England and Scotland displayed lions on their shields. The rulers of Norway, Denmark, and Holland, all had lions on their coats-of-arms. In Egypt lions were worshipped as gods. The priests bathed them in perfumed water and fed them the choicest food and entertained them with sacred music. They were embalmed like humans when they died and they were buried with great ceremony. Even today all through Africa men are proud to be called lions. The Emperor Haile Selassie calls himself “The Lion of Judah”. The elephant is a great animal too. But did you ever hear of a king calling himself an elephant? Or a rhino or buffalo or giraffe? You can’t imagine Richard wanting to be called “Richard the Hippo-Heart”. No, it’s always the lion. The Emperor keeps a tame lion in his palace. Chiefs in the Congo wear lion skins to show that they are great men. Many tribes worship a lion-god.’

‘Why do they think the lion is so wonderful?’

‘I suppose because the lion is brave. You said yourself the lions don’t move away when you drive up. They aren’t afraid of you. They know they are stronger than

you are. You felt what just one little tap of one paw could do. If he had really swatted you, you would not be alive now. I saw two lions drag a dead horse up a steep hill. Twenty men couldn’t have done it. A lion can jump over a fence twelve feet high and climb out again dragging a cow heavier than himself. A lion is afraid of a man with a gun - but not of any man without one. He’s not afraid of any animal on earth - except the ant. A swarm of ants chewing into his hide makes him very unhappy. Most people think lions can’t climb trees. Usually they don’t, but I saw one climb thirty feet high to get a gazelle put there by a leopard. It’s hard to kill a lion. He doesn’t know when he’s dead. A white hunter tells of one lion that ran twenty yards with a bullet in his heart. Many a hunter has been killed because the lion kept right on coming after it had been fatally shot.’

‘All right,’ said Gladys. ‘We’ll admit the lion is strong. But there’s something more important than that. Is he intelligent? He looks so sleepy and stupid.’

‘He’s not stupid. He’s so smart he can make plans, like a human being. For instance, suppose there’s a kraal or corral full of cattle. Suppose the lions are hungry and want one of those cattle. But the fence around the kraal is too high for them to jump over. Now, put your human brain to work on that. If you were a lion, how would you get one of those cattle if you couldn’t get into the kraal?’

The ladies gave it some thought, and shook their heads. ‘Too deep for me,’ said Gladys.

‘The lions plan it this way. Most of them stay on one side of the kraal and make no sound. Two or three go on the other side and set up a terrific roaring. There’s nothing that terrifies cattle more than the roar of lions. The frightened cattle stampede away from the sound across the kraal and crash into the fence with such force that they break it down. They rush out among the waiting lions who leap on their backs and break their necks.’

‘That’s pretty smart,’ admitted Patricia. ‘But lions have such horrible habits. Some of them are cannibals.’

They’re not cannibals,’ Hal protested. ‘A cannibal is one who eats others of its own kind. A hyena is a cannibal. He will eat another hyena. But a lion will not eat another lion unless he is starving.’

“They do worse than that,’ said Patricia. ‘Some of them are man-eaters/

Hal nodded. ‘I know. We’re after one now. But we don’t despise him because he’s a man-eater. After all, you and I are animal-eaters. But we don’t think we’re so horrible because we kill and eat cattle and sheep and pigs and wild game. We can sit down to a meal of roast beef without any guilty feeling whatever. And the lion has no reason to feel guilty when he eats that animal called man. Of course we must stop him, but we can’t blame him.’

‘But there are so many other animals to eat - why can’t they be satisfied with them?’

‘Lions do eat other animals when they can catch them. In fact most lions would rather have the meat of other animals, not man-meat. They don’t like the smell of man. But when a lion’s leg is crippled by a bullet or a spear he can’t run fast enough to overtake most animals. In that case, the hunter who crippled him is to blame. Or perhaps the lion has been badly hurt in a fight with an elephant or rhino. Or he may just be too old to hunt fast game. Or, as often happens, a porcupine has backed into

his face and left a lot of painful quills sticking in him. The mango fly lays eggs in the quill-wounds and the eggs turn into masses of worms all around the mouth and eyes. The pain is terrible, the beast becomes irritable and savage, he can’t see well enough to hunt, it’s too painful for him to eat tough meat, so he overcomes his dislike for human flesh and starts eating that because it is soft and because humans are easy to catch. A human being without a gun is a very helpless creature. He can’t ran as fast as other animals. His sense of hearing is not as good, nor his sense of smell, nor his sense of sight. He doesn’t have horns like an antelope nor the tusks of the warthog and he can’t kick like a giraffe. So it’s quite natural for the starving lion to take the easy way out and begin eating humans. The worst of it is that a man-eater teaches its cubs to be man-eaters and so the habit is passed on from one generation to the next. Of course this has to be stopped and that’s what we’re doing right now - trying to track down a lion that has been killing the men working on the tracks. And we’d better get back to our job. Will you go with us down to the station?’