the land of footprints-第12节

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　pint　measure。

〃There；〃　concluded　F。；　〃if　you　drink　that　and　come　back　again　to…morrow　for　treatment；　I'll　believe　you　ARE　sick。〃

Without　undue　pride　I　would　like　to　record　that　I　was　the　first　to　think　of　putting　in　a　peculiarly　nauseous　gun　oil；　and　thereby　acquired　a　reputation　of　making　tremendous　medicine。

So　implicit　is　this　faith　in　white　man's　medicine　that　at　one　of　the　Government　posts　we　were　approached　by　one　of　the　secondary　chiefs　of　the　district。　He　was　a　very　nifty　savage；　dressed　for　calling；　with　his　hair　done　in　ropes　like　a　French　poodle's；　his　skin　carefully　oiled　and　reddened；　his　armlets　and　necklets　polished；　and　with　the　ceremonial　ball　of　black　feathers　on　the　end　of　his　long　spear。　His　gait　was　the　peculiar　mincing　teeter　of　savage　conventional　society。　According　to　custom；　he　approached　unsmiling；　spat　carefully　in　his　palm；　and　shook　hands。　Then　he　squatted　and　waited。

〃What　is　it？〃　we　asked　after　it　became　evident　he　really　wanted　something　besides　the　pleasure　of　our　company。

〃N'dowa…medicine；〃　said　he。

〃Why　do　you　not　go　the　Government　dispensary？〃　we　demanded。

〃The　doctor　there　is　an　Indian；　I　want　REAL　medicine；　white　man's　medicine；〃　he　explained。

Immensely　flattered；　of　course；　we　wanted　further　to　know　what　ailed　him。

〃Nothing；〃　said　he　blandly；　〃nothing　at　all；　but　it　seemed　an　excellent　chance　to　get　good　medicine。〃

After　the　clinic　was　all　attended　to；　we　retired　to　our　tents　and　the　screeching…hot　bath　so　grateful　in　the　tropics。　When　we　emerged；　in　our　mosquito　boots　and　pajamas；　the　daylight　was　gone。　Scores　of　little　blazes　licked　and　leaped　in　the　velvet　blackness　round　about；　casting　the　undergrowth　and　the　lower　branches　of　the　trees　into　flat　planes　like　the　cardboard　of　a　stage　setting。　Cheerful；　squatted　figures　sat　in　silhouette　or　in　the　relief　of　chance　high　light。　Long　switches　of　meat　roasted　before　the　fires。　A　hum　of　talk；　bursts　of　laughter；　the　crooning　of　minor　chants　mingled　with　the　crackling　of　thorns。　Before　our　tents　stood　the　table　set　for　supper。　Beyond　it　lay　the　pile　of　firewood；　later　to　be　burned　on　the　altar　of　our　safety　against　beasts。　The　moonlight　was　casting　milky　shadows　over　the　river　and　under　the　trees　opposite。　In　those　shadows　gleamed　many　fireflies。　Overhead　were　millions　of　stars；　and　a　little　breeze　that　wandered　through　upper　branches。

But　in　Equatorial　Africa　the　simple　bands　of　velvet　black；　against　the　spangled　brightnesses　that　make　up　the　visual　night　world；　must　give　way　in　interest　to　the　other　world　of　sound。　The　air　hums　with　an　undertone　of　insects；　the　plain　and　hill　and　jungle　are　populous　with　voices　furtive　or　bold。　In　daytime　one　sees　animals　enough；　in　all　conscience；　but　only　at　night　does　he　sense　the　almost　oppressive　feeling　of　the　teeming　life　about　him。　The　darkness　is　peopled。　Zebra　bark；　bucks　blow　or　snort　or　make　the　weird　noises　of　their　respective　species；　hyenas　howl；　out　of　an　immense　simian　silence　a　group　of　monkeys　suddenly　break　into　chatterings；　ostriches　utter　their　deep　hollow　boom；　small　things　scurry　and　squeak；　a　certain　weird　bird　of　the　curlew　or　plover　sort　wails　like　a　lonesome　soul。　Especially　by　the　river；　as　here；　are　the　boomings　of　the　weirdest　of　weird　bullfrogs；　and　the　splashings　and　swishings　of　crocodile　and　hippopotamus。　One　is　impressed　with　the　busyness　of　the　world　surrounding　him；　every　bird　or　beast；　the　hunter　and　the　hunted；　is　the　centre　of　many　important　affairs。　The　world　swarms。

And　then；　some　miles　away　a　lion　roars；　the　earth　and　air　vibrating　to　the　sheer　power　of　the　sound。　The　world　falls　to　a　blank　dead　silence。　For　a　full　minute　every　living　creature　of　the　jungle　or　of　the　veldt　holds　its　breath。　Their　lord　has　spoken。

After　dinner　we　sat　in　our　canvas　chairs；　smoking。　The　guard　fire　in　front　of　our　tent　had　been　lit。　On　the　other　side　of　it　stood　one　of　our　askaris　leaning　on　his　musket。　He　and　his　three　companions；　turn　about；　keep　the　flames　bright　against　the　fiercer　creatures。

After　a　time　we　grew　sleepy。　I　called　Saa…sita　and　entrusted　to　him　my　watch。　On　the　crystal　of　this　I　had　pasted　a　small　piece　of　surgeon's　plaster。　When　the　hour　hand　reached　the　surgeon's　plaster；　he　must　wake　us　up。　Saa…sita　was　a　very　conscientious　and　careful　man。　One　day　I　took　some　time　hitching　my　pedometer　properly　to　his　belt：　I　could　not　wear　it　effectively　myself　because　I　was　on　horseback。　At　the　end　of　the　ten…hour　march　it　registered　a　mile　and　a　fraction。　Saa…sita　explained　that　he　wished　to　take　especial　care　of　it；　so　he　had　wrapped　it　in　a　cloth　and　carried　it　all　day　in　his　hand！

We　turned　in。　As　I　reached　over　to　extinguish　the　lantern　I　issued　my　last　command　for　the　day。

〃Watcha　kalele；　Saa…sita；〃　I　told　the　askari；　at　once　he　lifted　up　his　voice　to　repeat　my　words。　〃Watcha　kalele！〃　Immediately　from　the　Responsible　all　over　camp　the　word　came　back…from　gunbearers；　from　M'ganga；　from　tent　boys…〃kalele！　kalele！　kalele！〃

Thus　commanded；　the　boisterous　fun；　the　croon　of　intimate　talk；　the　gently　rising　and　falling　tide　of　melody　fell　to　complete　silence。　Only　remained　the　crackling　of　the　fire　and　the　innumerable　voices　of　the　tropical　night。



VIII。　THE　RIVER　JUNGLE

We　camped　along　this　river　for　several　weeks；　poking　indefinitely　and　happily　around　the　country　in　all　directions　to　see　what　we　could　see。　Generally　we　went　together；　for　neither　B。　nor　myself　had　been　tried　out　as　yet　on　dangerous　game…those　easy　rhinos　hardly　counted…and　I　think　we　both　preferred　to　feel　that　we　had　backing　until　we　knew　what　our　nerves　were　going　to　do　with　us。　Nevertheless；　occasionally；　I　would　take　Memba　Sasa　and　go　out　for　a　little　purposeless　stroll　a　few　miles　up　or　down　river。　Sometimes　we　skirted　the　jungle；　sometimes　we　held　as　near　as　possible　to　the　river's　bank；　sometimes　we　cut　loose　and　rambled　through　the　dry；　crackling　scrub　over　the　low　volcanic　hills　of　the　arid　country　outside。

Nothing　can　equal　the　intense　interest　of　the　most　ordinary　walk　in　Africa。　It　is　the　only　country　I　know　of　where　a　man　is　thoroughly　and　continuously　alive。　Often　when　riding　horseback　with　the　dogs　in　my　California　home　I　have　watched　them　in　envy　of　the　keen；　alert　interest　they　took　in　every　stone；　stick；　and　bush；　in　every　sight；　sound；　and　smell。　With　equal　frequency　I　have　expressed　that　envy；　but　as　something　unattainable　to　a　human　being's　more　phlegmatic　make…up。　In　Africa　one　actually　rises　to　continuous　alertness。　There　are　dozy　moments…except　you　curl　up　in　a　safe　place　for　the　PURPOSE　of　dozing；　again　just　like　the　dog！　Every　bush；　every　hollow；　every　high　tuft　of　grass；　every　deep　shadow　must　be　scrutinized　for　danger。　It　will　not　do　to　pass　carelessly　any　possible　lurking　place。　At　the　same　time　the　sense　of　hearing　must　be　on　guard；　so　that　no　break　of　twig　or　crash　of　bough　can　go　unremarked。　Rhinoceroses　conceal　themselves　most　cannily；　and　have　a　deceitful　habit　of　leaping　from　a　nap　into　their　swiftest　stride。　Cobras　and　puff　adders　are　scarce；　to　be　sure；　but　very　deadly。　Lions　will　generally　give　way；　if　not　shot　at　or　too　closely　pressed；　nevertheless　there　is　always　the　chance　of　cubs　or　too　close　a　surprise。　Buffalo　lurk　daytimes　in　the　deep　thickets；　but　occasionally　a　rogue　bull　lives　where　your　trail　will　lead。　These　things　do　not　happen　often；　but　in　the　long　run　they　surely　do　happen；　and　once　is　quite　enough　provided　the　beast　gets　in。

At　first　this　continual　alertness　and　tension　is　rather　exhausting；　but　after　a　very　short　time　it　becomes　second　nature。　A　sudden　rustle　the　other　side　a　bush　no　longer　brings　you　up　all　standing　with　your　heart　in　your　throat；　but　you　are　aware　of　it；　and　you　are　facing　the　possible　danger　almost　before　your　slower　brain　has　issued　any　orders　to　that　effect。

In　rereading　the　above；　I　am　afraid　that　I　am　conveying　the　idea　that　one　here　walks　under　the　shadow　of　continual　uneasiness。　This　is　not　in　the　least　so。　One　enjoys　the　sun；　and　the　birds　and　the　little　things。　He　cultivates　the　great　leisure　of　mind　that　shall　fill　the　breadth　of　his　outlook　abroad　over　a　newly　wonderful　world。　But　underneath　it　all　is　the　alertness；　the　responsiveness　to　quick　reflexes　of　judgment　and　action；　the　intimate　correlations　to　immediate　environment　which　must　characterize　the　instincts　of　the　higher　animals。　And　it　is　good　to　live　these　things。

Along　the　edge　of　that　river　jungle　were　many　strange　and　beautiful　affairs。　I　could　slip　along　among　the　high　clumps　of　the　thicker　bushes　in　such　a　manner　as　to　be　continually　coming　around　unexpected　bends。　Of　such　maneouvres　are　surprises　made。　The　graceful　red　impalla　were　here　very　abundant。　I　would　come　on　them；　their　heads　up；　their　great　ears　flung　forward；　their　noses　twitching　in　inquiry　of　something　they　suspected　but　could　not　fully　sense。　When　slightly　alarmed　or　suspicious　the　does　always　stood　compactly　in　a　herd；　while　the　bucks　remained　discreetly　in　the　background；　their　beautiful；　branching；　widespread　horns　showing　over　the　backs　of　their　harems。　The　impalla　is；　in　my　opinion；　one　of　the　most　beautiful　and　graceful　of　the　African　bucks；　a　perpetual　delight　to　watch　either　standing　or　running。　These　beasts　are　extraordinarily