On the morning of the second day Jim Makokel’ came up with his hostile-looking swagger and a cross worried look on his face, and in a half-angry and wholly disgusted tone jerked out at me, “The dog is deaf. I say so! Me! Makokela! Jock is deaf. He does not hear when you speak. Deaf! yes, deaf!”
Jim’s tone grew fiercer as he warmed up; he seemed to hold me responsible. The moment the boy spoke3 I knew it was true—it was the only possible explanation of many little things; nevertheless I jumped up hurriedly to try him in a dozen ways, hoping to find that he could hear something. Jim was right; he was really stone deaf. It was pathetic to find how each little subterfuge4 that drew his eyes from me left him out of reach: it seemed as if a link had broken between us and I had lost my hold. That was wrong, however! In a few days he began to realise the loss of hearing; and after that, feeling so much greater dependence5 on sight, his watchfulness6 increased so that nothing escaped him. None of those who saw him in that year, when he was at his very best, could bring themselves to believe that he was deaf. With me it made differences both ways: something lost, and something gained. If he could hear nothing, he saw more; the language of signs developed; and taking it all round I believe the sense of mutual7 dependence for success and of mutual understanding was greater than ever.
Joey the Smith stood at the forge one day, trimming a red-hot horse-shoe, when I rode up and dropping the reins10 over Snowball’s head, sang out “Morning, Joey!”
Joey placed the chisel11 on the shoe with nice calculation of the amount he wanted to snip12 off; his assistant boy swung the big hammer, and an inch cube of red-hot iron dropped off. Then Joey looked up with, what seemed to me, a conflict of innocent surprise and stifled13 amusement in his face. The boy also turned to look, and—the insignificant14 incident is curiously15 unforgettable—trod upon the piece of hot iron. “Look where you’re standing8,” said Joey reproachfully, as the smoke and smell of burning skin-welt rose up; and the boy with a grunt16 of disgust, such as we might give at a burned boot, looked to see what damage had been done to his ‘unders.’ It gave me an even better idea of a nigger’s feet than those thorn digging operations when we had to cut through a solid whitish welt a third of an inch thick.
Joey grinned openly at the boy; but he was thinking of Snowball.
“I wonder you had the heart, Joey, I do indeed!” I said, shaking my head at him.
“You would have him, lad, there was no refusin’ you! You arst so nice and wanted him so bad!”
“But how could you bear to part with him, Joey? It must have been like selling one of the family.”
“’Es, Boy, ’es! We are a bit stoopid—our lot! Is he still such a fool, or has he improved any with you?”
“Joey, I’ve learned him—full up to the teeth. If he stops longer he will become wicked, like me; and you would not be the ruin of an innocent young thing trying to earn a living honestly, if he can?”
“Come round behind the shop, Boy. I got a pony’ll suit you proper!” He gave a hearty17 laugh, and added “You can always get what you arsk for—if it ain’t worth having. Moril! Don’t arsk! I never offered you Snowball. This one’s different. You can have him at cost price; and that’s an old twelve month account! Ten pounds. He’s worth four of it! Salted an’ shootin’! Shake!” and I gripped his grimy old fist gladly, knowing it was jonnick and ‘a square deal.’
That was Mungo Park—the long, strong, low-built, half-bred Basuto pony—well-trained and without guile18.
I left Snowball with his previous owner, to use as required, and never called back for him; and if this should meet the eye of Joey the Smith he will know that I no longer hope his future life will be spent in stalking a wart-eyed white horse in a phantom19 Bushveld. Mungo made amends20.
There was a spot between the Komati and Crocodile rivers on the north side of the road where the white man seldom passed and nature was undisturbed; few knew of water there; it was too well concealed21 between deep banks and the dense22 growth of thorns and large trees.
The spot always had great attractions for me apart from the big game to be found there. I used to steal along the banks of this lone23 water and watch the smaller life of the bush. It was a delightful24 field for naturalist25 and artist, but unfortunately we thought little of such things, and knew even less; and now nothing is left from all the glorious opportunities but the memory of an endless fascination26 and a few facts that touch the human chord and will not submit to be forgotten.
There were plenty of birds—guinea-fowl, pheasant, partridge, knoorhaan and bush pauw. Jock accompanied me of course when I took the fowling-piece, but merely for companionship; for there was no need for him on these occasions. I shot birds to get a change of food and trusted to walking them up along the river banks and near drinking pools; but one evening Jock came forward of his own accord to help me—a sort of amused volunteer; and after that I always used him.
He had been at my heels, apparently28 taking little interest in the proceedings29 from the moment the first bird fell and he saw what the game was; probably he was intelligently interested all the time but considered it nothing to get excited about. After a time I saw him turn aside from the line we had been taking and stroll off at a walking pace, sniffing31 softly the while. When he had gone a dozen yards he stopped and looked back at me; then he looked in front again with his head slightly on one side, much as he would have done examining a beetle32 rolling his ball.
There were no signs of anything, yet the grass was short for those parts, scarce a foot high, and close, soft and curly. A brace33 of partridges rose a few feet from Jock, and he stood at ease calmly watching them, without a sign or move to indicate more than amused interest. The birds were absurdly tame and sailed so quietly along that I hesitated at first to shoot; then the noise of the two shots put up the largest number of partridges I have ever seen in one lot, and a line of birds rose for perhaps sixty yards across our front. There was no wild whirr and confusion: they rose in leisurely34 fashion as if told to move on, sailing infinitely35 slowly down the slope to the thorns near the donga. Running my eye along the line I counted them in twos up to between thirty and forty; and that I could not have been more than half. How many coveys had packed there, and for what purpose, and whether they came every evening, were questions which one would like answered now; but they were not of sufficient interest then to encourage a second visit another evening. The birds sailed quietly into the little wood, and many of them alighted on branches of the larger trees. It is the only time I have seen a partridge in a tree; but when one comes to think it out, it seems commonsense36 that, in a country teeming37 with vermin and night-prowlers, all birds should sleep off the ground. Perhaps they do!
There were numbers of little squirrel-like creatures there too. Our fellows used to call them ground-squirrels and “tree-rats”; because they live underground, yet climb trees readily in search of food; they were little fellows like meerkats, with bushy tails ringed in brown, black and white, of which the waggon-boys made decorations for their slouch hats.
Jock wanted a go at them: they did not appear quite so much beneath notice as the birds.
Along the water’s edge one came on the lagavaans, huge repulsive38 water-lizards three to four feet long, like crocodiles in miniature, sunning themselves in some favourite spot in the margin39 of the reeds or on the edge of the bank; they give one the jumps by the suddenness of their rush through the reeds and plunge40 into deep water.
There were otters42 too, big black-brown fierce fellows, to be seen swimming silently close under the banks. I got a couple of them, but was always nervous of letting Jock into the water after things, as one never knew where the crocodile lurked43. He got an ugly bite from one old dog-otter41 which I shot in shallow water; and, mortally wounded as he was, the otter put up a rare good fight before Jock finally hauled him out.
Then there were the cane-rats, considered by some most excellent and delicate of meats, as big and tender as small sucking-pigs. The cane-rat, living and dead, I was one of the stock surprises, and the subject of jokes and tricks upon the unsuspecting: there seems to be no sort of ground for associating the extraordinary fat thing, gliding46 among the reeds or swimming silently under the banks, with either its live capacity of rat or its more attractive dead rôle of roast sucking-pig.
The hardened ones enjoyed setting this treat before the hungry and unsuspecting, and, after a hearty meal, announcing—“That was roast rat: good, isn’t it?” The memory of one experience gives me water in the gills now! It was unpleasant, but not equal to the nausea47 and upheaval48 which supervened when, after a very savoury stew49 of delicate white meat, we were shown the fresh skin of a monkey hanging from the end of the buck-rails, with the head drooping50 forward, eyes closed, arms dangling51 lifeless, and limp open hands—a ghastly caricature of some hanged human, shrivelled and shrunk within its clothes of skin. I felt like a cannibal.
The water tortoises in the silent pools, grotesque52 muddy fellows, were full of interest to the quiet watcher, and better that way than as the “turtle soup” which once or twice we ventured on and tried to think was good!
There were certain hours of the day when it was more pleasant and profitable to lie in the shade and rest. It is the time of rest for the Bushveld—that spell about middle-day; and yet if one remains53 quiet, there is generally something to see and something worth watching. There were the insects on the ground about one which would not otherwise be seen at all; there were caterpillars54 clad in spiky55 armour56 made of tiny fragments of grass—fair defence no doubt against some enemies and a most marvellous disguise; other caterpillars clad in bark, impossible to detect until they moved; there were grasshoppers57 like leaves, and irregularly shaped stick insects, with legs as bulky as the body, and all jointed58 by knots like irregular twigs—wonderful mimetic creatures.
Jock often found these things for me. Something would move and interest him; and when I saw him stand up and examine a thing at his feet, turning it over with his nose or giving it a scrape with his paw, it was usually worth joining in the inspection60. The Hottentot-gods always attracted him as they reared up and ‘prayed’ before him; quaint61 things, with tiny heads and thin necks and enormous eyes, that sat up with fore45 legs raised to pray, as a pet dog sits up and begs.
One day I was watching the ants as they travelled along their route—sometimes stopping to hobnob with those they met, sometimes hurrying past, and sometimes turning as though sent back on a message or reminded of something forgotten—when a little dry brown bean lying in a spot of sunlight gave a jump of an inch or two. At first it seemed that I must have unknowingly moved some twig59 or grass stem that flicked63 it; but as I watched it there was another vigorous jump. I took it up and examined it but there was nothing unusual about it, it was just a common light brown bean with no peculiarities64 or marks; it was a real puzzle, a most surprising and ridiculous one. I found half a dozen more in the same place; but it was some days before we discovered the secret. Domiciled in each of them was a very small but very energetic worm, with a trap-door or stopper on his one end, so artfully contrived65 that it was almost impossible with the naked eye to locate the spot where the hole was. The worm objected to too much heat and if the beans were placed in the sun or near the fire the weird66 astonishing jumping would commence.
The beans were good for jumping for several months, and once in Delagoa, one of our party put some on a plate in the sun beside a fellow who had been doing himself too well for some time previously67: he had become a perfect nuisance to us and we could not get rid of him. He had a mouth full of bread, and a mug of coffee on the way to help it down, when the first bean jumped. He gave a sort of peck, blinked several times to clear his eyes, and then with his left hand pulled slightly at his collar, as though to ease it. Then came another jump, and his mouth opened slowly and his eyes got big. The plate being hollow and glazed68 was not a fair field for the jumpers—they could not escape; and in about half a minute eight or ten beans were having a rough and tumble.
With a white scared face our guest slowly lowered his mug, screened his eyes with the other hand, and after fighting down the mouthful of bread, got up and walked off without a word.
We tried to smother69 our laughter, but some one’s choking made him look back and he saw the whole lot of us in various stages of convulsions. He made one rude remark, and went on; but every one he met that day made some allusion70 to beans, and he took the Durban steamer next morning.
The insect life was prodigious71 in its numbers and variety; and the birds, the beasts, and the reptiles72 were all interesting. There is a goodness-knows-what-will-turn-up-next atmosphere about the Bushveld which is, I fancy, unique. The story of the curate, armed with a butterfly net, coming face to face with a black-maned lion may or may not be true—in fact; but it is true enough as an illustration; and it is no more absurd or unlikely than the meeting at five yards of a lioness and a fever-stricken lad carrying a white green-lined umbrella—which is true! The boy stood and looked: the lioness did the same. “She seemed to think I was not worth eating, so she walked off,” he used to say—and he was Trooper 242 of the Imperial Light Horse who went back under fire for wounded comrades and was killed as he brought the last one out.
I had an old cross-bred Hottentot-Bushman boy once—one could not tell which lot he favoured—who was full of the folklore74 stories and superstitions75 of his strange and dying race, which he half humorously and half seriously blended with his own knowledge and hunting experiences. Jantje had the ugly wrinkled dry-leather face of his breed, with hollow cheeks, high cheek-bones, and little pinched eyes, so small and so deeply set that no one ever saw the colour of them; the pepper-corns of tight wiry wool that did duty for hair were sparsely77 scattered78 over his head like the stunted79 bushes in the desert; and his face and head were seamed with scars too numerous to count, the souvenirs of his drunken brawls80. He resembled a tame monkey rather than a human creature, being, like so many of his kind without the moral side or qualities of human nature which go to mark the distinction between man and monkey. He was normally most cheery and obliging; but it meant nothing, for in a moment the monkey would peep out, vicious, treacherous81 and unrestrained. Honesty, sobriety, gratitude83, truth, fidelity84, and humanity were impossible to him: it seemed as if even the germs were not there to cultivate, and the material with which to work did not exist. He had certain make-believe substitutes, which had in a sense been grafted85 on to his nature, and appeared to work, while there was no real use for them; they made a show, until they were tested; one took them for granted, as long as they were not disproved: it was a skin graft86 only, and there seemed to be no real ‘union’ possible between them and the tough alien stock. He differed in character and nature from the Zulu as much as he did from the white man; he was as void of principle as—well, as his next of kin2, the monkey; yet, while without either shame of, or contempt for, cowardice87; he was wholly without fear of physical danger, having a sort of fatalist’s indifference88 to it; and that was something to set off against his moral deficit89. I put Jantje on to wash clothes the day he turned up at the waggons90 to look for work, and as he knelt on the rocks stripped to the waist I noticed a very curious knotted line running up his right side from the lowest rib91 into the armpit. The line was whiter than his yellow skin; over each rib there was a knot or widening in the line; and under the arm there was a big splotchy star—all markings of some curious wound.
He laughed almost hysterically92, his eyes disappearing altogether and every tooth showing, as I lifted his arm to investigate; and then in high-pitched falsetto tones he shouted in a sort of ecstasy93 of delight, “Die ouw buffels, Baas! Die buffels bull, Baas!”
“Buffalo94! Did he toss you?” I asked. Jantje seemed to think it the best joke in the world and with constant squeals95 of laughter and graphic96 gestures gabbled off his account.
His master, it appears, had shot at and slightly wounded the buffalo, and Jantje had been placed at one exit from the bush to prevent the herd97 from breaking away. As they came towards him he fired at the foremost one; but before he could reload the wounded bull made for him and he ran for dear life to the only tree near—one of the flat-topped thorns. He heard the thundering hoofs98 and the snorting breath behind, but raced on hoping to reach the tree and dodge99 behind it; a few yards short, however, the bull caught him, in spite of a jump aside, and flung him with one toss right on top of the thorn-tree.
When he recovered consciousness he was lying face upwards100 in the sun, with nothing to rest his head on and only sticks and thorns around him. He did not know where he was or what had happened; he tried to move, but one arm was useless and the effort made him slip and sag62, and he thought he was falling through the earth. Presently he heard regular tramping underneath101 him and the breath of a big animal: and the whole incident came back to him. By feeling about cautiously he at last located the biggest branch under him, and getting a grip on this he managed to turn over and ease his right side. He could then see the buffalo: it had tramped a circle round the tree and was doing sentry102 over him. Now and again the huge creature stopped to sniff30, snort and stamp, and then resumed the round, perhaps the reverse way. The buffalo could not see him and never once looked up, but glared about at its own accustomed level; and, relying entirely103 on its sense of smell, it kept up the relentless104 vengeful watch for hours, always stopping in the same place, to leeward105, to satisfy itself that the enemy had not escaped.
Late in the afternoon the buffalo, for the first time, suddenly came to a stand on the windward side of the tree, and after a good minute’s silence turned its tail on Jantje and with angry sniffs106 and tosses stepped swiftly and resolutely107 forward some paces. There was nothing to be seen; but Jantje judged the position and yelled out a warning to his master whom he guessed to be coming through the bush to look for him, and at the same time he made what noise he could in the tree top to make the buffalo think he was coming down. The animal looked round from time to time with swings and tosses of the head and threatening angry sneezes, much as one sees a cow do when standing between her young calf108 and threatened danger: it was defending Jantje, for his own purposes, and facing the danger.
For many minutes there was dead silence: no answer came to Jantje’s call, and the bull stood its ground glaring and sniffing towards the bush. At last there was a heavy thud below, instantly followed by the report of the rifle—the bullet came faster than the sound; the buffalo gave a heavy plunge and with a grunting109 sob82 slid forward on its chest.
Round the camp fire at night Jantje used to tell tales in which fact, fancy, and superstition76 were curiously mingled110; and Jantje when not out of humour was free with his stories. The boys, for whose benefit they were told, listened open-mouthed; and I often stood outside the ring of gaping111 boys at their fire, an interested listener.
The tale of his experiences with the honey-bird which he had cheated of its share was the first I heard him tell. Who could say how much was fact, how much fancy, and how much the superstitions of his race? Not even Jantje knew that! He believed it all.
The Honey-bird met him one day with cheery cheep-cheep, and as he whistled in reply it led him to an old tree where the beehive was: it was a small hive, and Jantje was hungry; so he ate it all. All the time he was eating, the bird kept fluttering about, calling anxiously, and expecting some honey or fat young bees to be thrown out for it; and when he had finished, the bird came down and searched in vain for its share. As he walked away the guilty Jantje noticed that the indignant bird followed him with angry cries and threats.
All day long he failed to find game; whenever there seemed to be a chance an angry honey-bird would appear ahead of him and cry a warning to the game; and that night as he came back, empty-handed and hungry, all the portents112 of bad luck came to him in turn. An owl27 screeched113 three times over his head; a goat-sucker with its long wavy114 wings and tail flitted before him in swoops115 and rings in most ghostly silence—and there is nothing more ghostly than that flappy wavy soundless flitting of the goat-sucker; a jackal trotted116 persistently117 in front looking back at him; and a striped hyena118, humpbacked, savage119, and solitary120, stalked by in silence, and glared.
At night as he lay unable to sleep the bats came and made faces at him; a night adder121 rose up before his face and slithered out its forked tongue—the two black beady eyes glinting the firelight back; and whichever way he looked there was a honey-bird, silent and angry, yet with a look of satisfaction, as it watched. So it went all night: no sleep for him; no rest!
In the morning he rose early and taking his gun and chopper set out in search of hives: he would give all to the honey-bird he had cheated, and thus make amends.
He had not gone far before, to his great delight, there came a welcome chattering122 in answer to his low whistle, and the busy little fellow flew up to show himself and promptly123 led the way, going ahead ten to twenty yards at a flight. Jantje followed eagerly until they came to a small donga with a sandy bottom, and then the honey-bird calling briskly, fluttered from tree to tree on either bank, leading him on.
Jantje, thinking the hive must be near by, was walking slowly along the sandy bed and looking upwards in the trees, when something on the ground caught his eye and he sprang back just as the head of a big puff-adder struck where his bare foot had been a moment before. With one swing of his chopper he killed it; he took the skin off for an ornament124, the poison-glands for medicine, and the fangs125 for charms, and then whistled and looked about for the honey-bird; but it had gone.
A little later on, however, he came upon another, and it led him to a big and shady wild fig44 tree. The honey-bird flew to the trunk itself and cheeped and chattered126 there, and Jantje put down his gun and looked about for an easy place to climb. As he peered through the foliage127 he met a pair of large green eyes looking full into his: on a big limb of the tree lay a tiger, still as death, with its head resting on its paws, watching him with a cat-like eagerness for its prey128. Jantje hooked his toe in the reim sling129 of his old gun and slowly gathered it up without moving his eyes from the tiger’s, and backing away slowly, foot by foot, he got out into the sunshine and made off as fast as he could.
It was the honey-bird’s revenge: he knew it then!
He sat down on some bare ground to think what next to do; for he knew he must die if he did not find honey and make good a hundred times what he had cheated.
All day long he kept meeting honey-birds and following them; but he would no longer follow them into the bad places, for he could not tell whether they were new birds or the one he had robbed! Once he had nearly been caught; the bird had perched on an old ant-heap, and Jantje, thinking there was a ground hive there, walked boldly forward. A small misshapen tree grew out of the ant-heap, and one of the twisted branches caught his eye because of the thick ring around it: it was the coil of a long green mamba; and far below that, half hidden by the leaves, hung the snake’s head with the neck gathered in half-loop coils ready to strike at him.
After that Jantje kept in the open, searching for himself among rocks and in all the old dead trees for the tell-tale stains that mark the hive’s entrance; but he had no luck, and when he reached the river in the early afternoon he was glad of a cool drink and a place to rest.
For a couple of hours he had seen no honey-birds, and it seemed that at last his pursuer had given him up, for that day at least. As he sat in the shade of the high bank, however, with the river only a few yards from his feet he heard again a faint chattering: it came from the river-side beyond a turn in the bank, and it was too far away for the bird to have seen Jantje from where it called, so he had no doubt about this being a new bird. It seemed to him a glorious piece of luck that he should find honey by the aid of a strange bird and be able to take half of it back to the hive he had emptied the day before and leave it there for the cheated bird.
There was a beach of pebbles130 and rocks between the high bank and the river, and as Jantje walked along it on the keen lookout131 for the bird, he spotted132 it sitting on a root half-way down the bank some twenty yards ahead. Close to where the chattering bird perched there was a break in the pebbly133 beach, and there shallow water extended up to the perpendicular134 bank. In the middle of this little stretch of water, and conveniently placed as a stepping-stone, there was a black rock, and the bare-footed Jantje stepped noiselessly from stone to stone towards lit.
An alarmed cane-rat, cut off by Jantje from the river, ran along the foot of the bank to avoid him; but when it reached the little patch of shallow water it suddenly doubled back in fright and raced under the boy’s feet into the river.
Jantje stopped! He did not know why; but there seemed to be something wrong. Something had frightened the cane-rat back on to him, and he stared hard at the bank and the stretch of beach ahead of him. Then the rock he meant to step on to gave a heave, and a long blackish thing curved towards him; he sprang into the air as high as he could, and the crocodile’s tail swept under his feet!
Jantje fled back like a buck—the rattle135 on the stones behind him and crash of reeds putting yards into every bound.
For four days he stayed in camp waiting for some one to find a hive and give him honey enough to make his peace; and then, for an old snuff-box and a little powder, he bought a huge basket full of comb, young and old, from a kaffir woman at one of the kraals some miles away, and put it all at the foot of the tree he had cleaned out.
Then he had peace.
The boys believed every word of that story: so, I am sure, did Jantje himself. The buffalo story was obviously true, and Jantje thought nothing of it: the honey-bird story was not, yet he gloried in it; it touched his superstitious136 nature, and it was impossible for him to tell the truth or to separate fact from fancy and superstition.
How much of fact there may have been in it I cannot say: honey-birds gave me many a wild-goose chase, but when they led to anything at all it was to hives, and not to snakes, tigers and crocodiles. Perhaps it is right to own up that I never cheated a honey-bird! We pretended to laugh at the superstition, but we left some honey all the same—just for luck! After all, as we used to say, the bird earned its share and deserved encouragement.
Round the camp fire at nights it was no uncommon137 thing to see some one jump up and let out with whatever was handiest at some poisonous intruder. There was always plenty of dead wood about and we piled on big branches and logs freely, and as the ends burnt to ashes in the heart of the fire we kept pushing the logs further in. Of course, dead trees are the home of all sorts of ‘creepy-crawly’ things, and as the log warmed up and the fire eat into the decayed heart and drove thick hot smoke through the cracks and corridors and secret places in the logs the occupants would come scuttling138 out at the butt73 ends. Small snakes were common—the big ones usually clearing when the log was first disturbed—and they slipped away into the darkness giving hard quick glances about them; but scorpions139, centipedes and all sorts of spiders were by far the most numerous.
Occasionally in the mornings we found snakes under our blankets, where they had worked in during the night for the warmth of the human body; but no one was bitten, and one made a practice of getting up at once, and with one movement, so that unwelcome visitors should not be warned or provoked by any preliminary rolling. The scorpions, centipedes and tarantulas seemed to be more objectionable; but they were quite as anxious to get away as we were, and it is wonderful how little damage is done.
One night when we had been watching them coming out of a big honeycombed log like the animals from the Ark, and were commenting on the astonishing number and variety of these things, I heard Jantje conveying in high-pitched tones fanciful bits of information to the credulous140 waggon-boys. When he found that we too were listening—and Jantje had the storyteller’s love for a ‘gallery’—he turned our way and dropped into a jargon141 of broken English, helped out with Hottentot-Dutch, which it is impossible to reproduce in intelligible142 form.
He had made some allusion to ‘the great battle,’ and when I asked for an explanation he told us the story. It is well enough known in South Africa, and similar stories are to be found in the folklore of other countries, but it had a special interest for us in that Jantje gave it as having come to him from his own people. He called it “The Great Battle between the Things of the Earth and the Things of the Air.”
For a long time there had been jealousy143 between the Things of the Earth and the Things of the Air, each claiming superiority for themselves; each could do something the others could not do; and each thought their powers greater and their qualities superior. One day a number of them happened to meet on an open plain near the river’s bank, and the game of brag144 began again as usual. At last the Lion, who was very cross, turned to the old Black Aasvogel, as he sat half asleep on a dead tree, and challenged him.
“You only eat the dead: you steal where others kill. It is all talk with you; you will not fight!”
The Aasvogel said nothing, but let his bald head and bare neck settle down between his shoulders, and closed his eyes.
“He wakes up soon enough when we find him squatting145 above the carcase,” said the Jackal. “See him flop146 along then.”
“When we find him!” the Aasvogel said, opening his eyes wide. “Sneaking prowler of the night! Little bastard147 of the Striped Thief!”
So the Things of the Air gathered about and joined in backing the Black Aasvogel; and the Things of the Earth kept on challenging them to come down and have it out; but nobody could hear anything because the Jackal yapped incessantly150 and the Go’way bird, with its feathers all on end and its neck craned out, screamed itself drunk with passion.
Then the Eagle spoke out:
“You have talked enough. Strike—strike for the eyes!” and he swept down close to the Lion’s head, but swerving151 to avoid the big paw that darted152 out at him, he struck in passing at the Jackal, and took off part of his ear.
“I am killed! I am killed!” screamed the Jackal, racing153 for a hole to hide in. But the other beasts laughed at him; and when the Lion called them up and bade them take their places in the field for the great battle, the Jackal walked close behind him holding his head on one side and showing each one what the Eagle had done.
“Where is my place?” asked the Crocodile, in a soft voice, from the bank where no one had noticed him come up.
The Things of the Earth that were near him moved quietly away.
“Your place is in the water,” the Lion answered. “Coward and traitor154 whom no one trusts! Who would fight with his back to you?”
The Crocodile laughed softly and rolled his green eyes from one to another; and they moved still further away.
“What am I?” asked the Ostrich155. “Kindred of the Birds, I am of the winged ones; yet I cannot fight with them!”
“Let him fly!” said the Jackal, grinning, “and we shall then see to whom he belongs! Fly, old Three Sticks! Fly!”
The Ostrich ran at him, waltzing and darting156 with wings outspread, but the Jackal dodged157 away under the Lion and squealed158 out, “Take your feet off the ground, Clumsy, and fly!”
Then it was arranged that there should be two Umpires, one for each party, and that the Umpires should stand on two high hills where all could see them. The Ostrich was made Umpire for the Things of the Air, and as long as the fight went well with his party he was to hold his head high so that the Things of the Air might see the long thin neck upright and, knowing that all was well, fight on.
The Jackal asked that he might be Umpire for the Things of the Earth.
“You are too small to be seen!” objected the Lion gruffly.
“No! No!” urged the Jackal, “I will stand on a big ant-heap and hold my bushy tail on high where all will see it shining silver and gold in the sunlight.”
“Good!” said the Lion. “It is better so, perhaps, for you would never fight; and as soon as one begins to run, others follow!”
The Things of the Air gathered in their numbers, and the Eagle led them, showing them how to make up for their weakness by coming swiftly down in numbers where they found their enemies alone or weak; how to keep the sun behind them so that it would shine in their enemies’ eyes and blind them; and how the loud-voiced ones should attack on the rear and scream suddenly, while those with bill and claw swooped159 down in front and struck at the eyes.
And for a time it went well with the Things of the Air. The little birds and locusts160 and butterflies came in clouds about the Lion and he could see nothing as he moved from place to place; and the Things of the Earth were confused by these sudden attacks; and, giving up the fight, began to flee from their places.
Then the Jackal, believing that he would not be found out, cheated: he kept his tail up to make them think they were not beaten. The Lion roared to them, so that all could hear, to watch the hill where the Jackal stood and see the sign of victory; and the Things of the Earth, being strong, gathered together again and withstood the enemy and drove them off.
The battle was going against the Things of the Air when the Go’way bird came to the Eagle and said:
“It is the Jackal who has done this. Long ago we had won; but, Cheat and Coward, he kept his tail aloft and his people have returned and are winning now.”
Then the Eagle, looking round the field, said, “Send me the Bee.”
And when the Bee came the Eagle told him what to do; and setting quietly about his work, as his habit is, he made a circuit through the trees that brought him to the hill where the Jackal watched from the ant-heap.
While the Jackal stood there with his mouth open and tongue out, laughing to see how his cheating had succeeded, the Bee came up quietly behind and, as Jantje put it, “stuck him from hereafter!”
The Jackal gave a scream of pain and, tucking his tail down, jumped from the ant-heap and ran away into the bush; and when the Things of the Earth saw the signal go down they thought that all was lost, and fled.
So was the Great Battle won!
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收听单词发音
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1
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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2
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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3
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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4
subterfuge
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| n.诡计；藉口 | |
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5
dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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6
watchfulness
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| 警惕，留心； 警觉（性） | |
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7
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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8
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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9
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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10
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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11
chisel
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| n.凿子；v.用凿子刻，雕，凿 | |
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12
snip
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| n.便宜货，廉价货，剪，剪断 | |
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13
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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14
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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15
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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16
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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17
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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18
guile
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| n.诈术 | |
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19
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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20
amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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21
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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22
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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23
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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24
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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25
naturalist
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| n.博物学家(尤指直接观察动植物者) | |
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26
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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27
owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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28
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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29
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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30
sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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31
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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32
beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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33
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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34
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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35
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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36
commonsense
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| adj.有常识的；明白事理的；注重实际的 | |
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37
teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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38
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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39
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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40
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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41
otter
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| n.水獭 | |
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42
otters
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| n.（水）獭( otter的名词复数 )；獭皮 | |
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43
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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44
fig
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| n.无花果(树) | |
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45
fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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46
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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47
nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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48
upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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49
stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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50
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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51
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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52
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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53
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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54
caterpillars
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| n.毛虫( caterpillar的名词复数 )；履带 | |
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55
spiky
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| adj.长而尖的，大钉似的 | |
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56
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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57
grasshoppers
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| n.蚱蜢( grasshopper的名词复数 )；蝗虫；蚂蚱；（孩子）矮小的 | |
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58
jointed
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| 有接缝的 | |
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59
twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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60
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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61
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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62
sag
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| v.下垂，下跌，消沉；n.下垂，下跌，凹陷，[航海]随风漂流 | |
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63
flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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64
peculiarities
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| n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
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65
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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66
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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67
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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68
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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69
smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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70
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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71
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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72
reptiles
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| n.爬行动物，爬虫( reptile的名词复数 ) | |
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73
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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74
folklore
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| n.民间信仰，民间传说，民俗 | |
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75
superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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76
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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77
sparsely
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| adv.稀疏地；稀少地；不足地；贫乏地 | |
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78
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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79
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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80
brawls
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| 吵架，打架( brawl的名词复数 ) | |
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81
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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82
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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83
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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84
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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85
grafted
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| 移植( graft的过去式和过去分词 )； 嫁接； 使（思想、制度等）成为（…的一部份）； 植根 | |
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86
graft
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| n.移植，嫁接，艰苦工作，贪污；v.移植，嫁接 | |
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87
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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88
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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89
deficit
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| n.亏空，亏损；赤字，逆差 | |
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90
waggons
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| 四轮的运货马车( waggon的名词复数 )； 铁路货车； 小手推车 | |
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91
rib
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| n.肋骨，肋状物 | |
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92
hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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93
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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94
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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95
squeals
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| n.长而尖锐的叫声( squeal的名词复数 )v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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96
graphic
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| adj.生动的，形象的，绘画的，文字的，图表的 | |
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97
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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98
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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99
dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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100
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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101
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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102
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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103
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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104
relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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105
leeward
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| adj.背风的；下风的 | |
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106
sniffs
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的第三人称单数 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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107
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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108
calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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109
grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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110
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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111
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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112
portents
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| n.预兆( portent的名词复数 )；征兆；怪事；奇物 | |
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113
screeched
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的过去式和过去分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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114
wavy
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| adj.有波浪的，多浪的，波浪状的，波动的，不稳定的 | |
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115
swoops
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| 猛扑，突然下降( swoop的名词复数 ) | |
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116
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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117
persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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118
hyena
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| n.土狼，鬣狗 | |
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119
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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120
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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121
adder
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| n.蝰蛇；小毒蛇 | |
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122
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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123
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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124
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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125
fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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126
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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127
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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128
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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129
sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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130
pebbles
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| [复数]鹅卵石； 沙砾； 卵石，小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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131
lookout
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| n.注意，前途，瞭望台 | |
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132
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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133
pebbly
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| 多卵石的，有卵石花纹的 | |
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134
perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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135
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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136
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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137
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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138
scuttling
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| n.船底穿孔，打开通海阀（沉船用）v.使船沉没( scuttle的现在分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
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139
scorpions
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| n.蝎子( scorpion的名词复数 ) | |
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140
credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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141
jargon
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| n.术语，行话 | |
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142
intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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143
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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144
brag
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| v./n.吹牛，自夸；adj.第一流的 | |
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145
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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146
flop
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| n.失败(者)，扑通一声；vi.笨重地行动，沉重地落下 | |
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147
bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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148
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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149
scavenger
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| n.以腐尸为食的动物，清扫工 | |
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150
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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151
swerving
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的现在分词 ) | |
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152
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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153
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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154
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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155
ostrich
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| n.鸵鸟 | |
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156
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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157
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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158
squealed
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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159
swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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160
locusts
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| n.蝗虫( locust的名词复数 )；贪吃的人；破坏者；槐树 | |
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