07 Elephant Adventure (2 page)

‘Where did I hit him?’ Roger wondered.

‘Right here,’ Hal said, pointing to a hole high in the skull.

Hal and Joro then did a strange thing. They stooped, took the loop of chain, slipped it over the elephant’s foot and locked it tight.

Roger was puzzled. ‘What’s the idea of chaining a dead

elephant?’

Hal answered, ‘He’s not dead.’

‘Not dead! A bullet through his brain and he’s not dead?’

‘I’m sorry to correct you. little brother, but the bullet didn’t go through his brain. The top of his head is all bone. You could punch it full of holes and he wouldn’t die. The brain is beneath all that, just between his eyes. He’s only stunned. He’ll be up and around again in a few minutes.’

Roger could see the amusement in the eyes of the men. He felt considerably let down. A great hunter, he was!

Hal was laughing. ‘So you see,’ he said, ‘in spite of your murderous instincts, we’re going to get him alive.’

Roger thought bitterly, I just hope you don’t Big brothers were hard to bear. They thought they were so smart.

But Hal appeared to be right A deep sigh welled up out of the black mass, then a groan, and the beast opened his eyes. Everyone moved back to give him room. He looked about in a sort of daze. Then with a blast on his trumpet he staggered to his feet and made for the nearest man. The chain brought him up short

He backed up and thundered forward again with such force that the chain snapped apart just behind his foot With the loop still around his ankle, but no chain dragging, he rushed between the startled spectators to the path and down it into the forest screaming as he went

‘Clank - clank - clank,’ the sound grew fainter, the screams died away, and peace descended upon the Mountains of the Moon. Empty-handed, Hal looked the picture of disappointment Roger said nothing, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eye. Hal could guess what the kid was thinking:

Welt big brother, I didn’t get him - but neither did you. Perhaps that will teach you not to be so cocky.

The men stood listening, even after the last screams of the elephant had been swallowed up in the forest. Now there was dead silence. They seemed more afraid of the silence than of the screams.

Failure to capture their first elephant was taken as a bad sign. They muttered among themselves.

They don’t want to go on,’ Joro told Hal.

‘Why not?’

They say it’s a bad place. We shall get nothing here. It’s a place of death. They have never seen anything like it’

Hal, looking about, had to admit it was like a bad dream. He and his men seemed very small among the monsters that towered above them on every side.

The trees were giants and they wore whiskers of moss that made them look like old men - a thousand times bigger than old men, with grey beards that came down to their knees and swung in the cold wind. Among their branches coiled vines like black serpents hundreds of feet long. And huge claws of cloud reached down through the trees and combed the ground, as if some great sky beasts were trying to grab some juicy humans for dinner.

Heavy mists hung all about. They were for ever shifting and changing like grey curtains. Up through the mists loomed the strangest plants in the world. It was like a nightmare. Hal felt like pinching himself to see if he was really awake.

Imagine flowers as high as a house! Near him towered a groundsel. He knew that in America and Europe it grew only as high as his ankle. Here it was four times as tall as a man.

At home its tiny seeds were used to feed the canaries. Here a canary could never swallow the seed, for the seed was bigger than the bird.

At home parsley was a little sprig that you used to decorate a platter of meat. Hal stared at the parsley before him - to hold it the platter would have to be fifteen feet wide.

And those white everlastings 1 In other lands they were flowers that you would have to stoop to the ground to reach. Here they were out of reach in the other direction. Their blossoms were high above Hal’s head.

The heather that in Scotland did not grow higher than your shoulder - here it was a tree forty feet tall.

Ferns that usually did not come above your knee were trees on the slopes of the Mountains of the Moon. Their lacy leaves were twelve feet long.

Buttercups were the size of dinner plates, daisies were larger still, and the modest little violet was here a big. brawny bush. Pretty posies that you would wear in your buttonhole were three feet wide in this dizzy Disneyland of monsters.

And those things like telegraph poles - what could they be? Hal stepped close to look. At first he could hardly believe it But he was a naturalist, already well trained in the study of plants and animals, and he recognized this giant. It was the big brother of the pretty little

lobelia or cardinal flower that he had planted in garden borders at home. There, it was never more than a few inches high - here, thirty feet! Its flower was as big as a barrel.

Roger followed his glance up to the great flower. He looked about at all the other monsters, appearing and disappearing in the driving mist, and he shivered.

‘It gives me the creeps,’ he said. ‘What makes everything grow so big?’

‘No one knows exactly,’ Hal said. ‘Of course it’s right on the Equator. So there’s no winter. Plants grow every day of the year. They can never rest. And it rains, or at least drizzles, day and night all year long. Then there’s something about the soil - it’s very acid, and the strong ultra violet light…’

‘Never mind,’ said Roger who was getting bogged down in these scientific details. ‘All I know is I would never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it And the animals - are they big too?’

‘Well, you saw what a whopper that elephant was. And the gorilla here is the biggest in Africa. The leopards are as large as tigers. And the birds - well - look at that humming-bird.’

It was hovering above the lobelia flower.

‘Humming-bird, my eye! ‘ said Roger.

It was as big as a pigeon. But a pigeon couldn’t stand still in the air, and pigeons didn’t have long bills and poke them deep into flowers. Yes, it was a humming-bird and no mistake.

Roger kicked the mud under their feet

‘Next you’ll be telling me that the earthworms are as big as snakes.’

‘Exactly,’ agreed Hal. ‘If we had time to dig down into this muck we’d probably find them. A National Geographic Society expedition found earthworms three feet long.’

‘Why don’t we hear more about this crazy place? Who’s been keeping it a secret?’

‘It’s no secret If you look on the map, you’ll see it’s not far from Lake Victoria, and lots of tourists go there. On the map this is called Ruwenzorl That means The Rainmaker. But with all this rain, it’s hardly a tourist resort In fact most people never see it because it’s hidden by rain clouds most of the time.’

‘Ruwenzorl. I thought its name was Mountains of the Moon.’

That’s another name for it.’

‘A newfangled name?’

‘No. An oldfangled one. The ancient Egyptians knew about it They gave it that name.’

‘Why?’

‘Perhaps because it’s so strange. Nothing else like it on earth. It’s another world. So on the old, old maps it’s Lunae Monies, Mountains of the Moon. Funny thing -it was on the map for more than a thousand years - then it was wiped off. Because people decided there was no such place. Explorers couldn’t find it. Stanley - the man who found Livingstone - said he had sailed a boat right through the spot where the Mountains of the Moon were supposed to be, and he was sure the mountains did not exist So they were taken off the maps. But later he came again to this part of Africa and suddenly for a few moments the clouds rolled away and there they were, some of the tallest mountains in all Africa, covered with eternal snow. So back they went on the maps, with a new name.’

‘I like the old name better,’ Roger said. ‘Mountains of the Moon. Sounds weird. And this is the weirdest place I ever saw.’

The men were grouped closely together, still arguing whether to go on or to go back.

Roger became impatient.

‘Are we going to hang around here all day? Why don’t you tell them to get going?’

‘Let them talk it out,’ Hal said. ‘You cant push an African. He has to make up his own mind. Don’t forget.

they find all this pretty scary. An African thinks every bush and rock has an evil spirit in it. And the bigger the thing is, the bigger the spook that lives in it They’ve got to get used to these giants and find that they won’t really hurt them.’

He picked up the tattered rag of leather that once was his boot He called to a man who was carrying a pack on his back.

‘Mali, I think you have another pair of my boots in your pack.’

The boots were found and Hal put them on. He was about to throw the old footgear away when Mali said:

‘Let me have those, bwana [master].’ He was wearing a pair of sandals made from old rubber tyres. He took them off, put Hal’s good boot on one foot and tied the leather scrap on to his other foot with pieces of vine. Then he tramped around proudly, for these were the best boots he had ever owned.

They seemed to give him new courage. Laughing, he started up the mountain. But suddenly he stopped and stared, for a ghost was coming down the trail.

He could not see it clearly because the mists were swirling around it It must be a ghost, he thought, for no living man could be so tall. The other men had also seen it by this time, and were jabbering excitedly.

Then the fingers of fog drew away, and it was plain that this was truly a man and no ghost But the safari men had never seen anyone so tall.

They came from Uganda where few people stand over five feet They had never before seen one of the Watussi, the tallest people on earth, who live in Ruanda and the mountains. This giant was between seven and eight feet tail

The Watussi are not Negroes. Nor are they white. Their skin is a rich copper colour. They hold their heads high and they move like the wind. They are marvellous dancers and skilled in the high jump.

‘Straight out of King Solomon’s Mines,’ said Hal. Roger nodded. They both remembered that film and the amazing dances of the Watussi giants.

The figure coming down the trail was draped in a white robe and carried a long staff. He must have been surprised to see these strangers, but he showed no fear.

The Watussi fear no man shorter than they are. And since there are no people on earth taller, they fear no one. Or if they ever have fear, they refuse to show it, for they have the dignity of kings.

The figure in white kept coming, bowed slightly, and would have passed on down the trail if Hal had not spoken.

‘Joro,’ Hal said, ‘ask him to wait I should like to speak to him.’

Every African tribe has its own language. Joro did not know the language of the Watussi. So he spoke in Swahili, which is a common language known by most East and Central Africans no matter what their tribe.

The tall man understood, but he did not reply in Swahili. Instead he turned to Hal and said in perfect English:

‘Is there some way I can serve you?’

‘But you speak English!’ Hal said in surprise.

The proud copper face relaxed in a smile as it looked down upon the little six-foot white man.

‘A few of us know it,’ he said. ‘We had to learn it when we acted in your talking pictures.’

‘You took part in the dances?’

‘I did. And in the high jump.’

Roger could not refrain from asking, ‘Wasn’t that trick photography? I mean - can you really jump that high?’

‘Roger.’ Hal spoke sharply. ‘You are not very polite. We don’t even know the gentleman’s name.’

But the Watussi had not taken offence. He smiled more broadly.

It is all right. My name is Mumbo. I am chief.’

Hal introduced Roger, Joro, and himself.

‘I don’t know what difference knowing each other’s

names makes,’ Roger said with a side glance at Hal. ‘But now that we know them, could he tell us about the jumping?’

‘Please excuse him,’ Hal said. ‘He’s a persistent young rascal.’

That is good,’ replied Mumbo. ‘He is wise not to believe too much in pictures, nor in words. I think I will have to show him.’ He turned to Roger. ‘What would you like to have me do?’

Roger thought a moment. He was not going to let this big fellow off easily. He looked up at his tall brother. Then he said to Mumbo:

‘Could you jump over my brother’s head?’

Hal was not pleased with the idea. Think what you’re saying. If he doesn’t quite clear me, hell kick me in the face.’

‘Sure,’ replied the young mischief-maker. ‘I thought of that. It would add to the fun, eh what?’

Chief Mumbo put an end to the argument. ‘If you will let the boy sit on your shoulders,’ he said to Hal, ‘1 will try to jump over you both.’

Hal stooped. Roger rather unwillingly climbed to Hal’s shoulders and sat down, his legs straddling Hal’s neck. Hal straightened up.

Now it was Roger who would get those big feet in his face if the chief did not jump high enough. And so high a jump seemed quite impossible. He didn’t quite like this turn of events.

He heard Hal chuckling.

‘How are things up there?’ Hal inquired. ‘Comfortable?’

‘You son of a gun,’ Roger retorted. ‘I’ll get you for this.’

Hal laughed. ‘Perhaps you won’t live to get me. Well, we all have to go some time. Goodbye, little brother. It’s been nice knowing you.’

Roger, steadying himself by hanging on to Hal’s hair, gave it a good yank. ‘Ow!’ exclaimed Hal. ‘What’s that for?’ ‘Just to let you know there’s still some life up here.’ Mumbo flung off his white robe. His long slender body gleamed like a copper column.

The boys expected he would go back some distance, then come in a running high jump. But he remained standing within a few feet of them. Suddenly he bent his knees, straightened them again, and was soaring through the air like a kite. Up he went over Hal’s head, then over Roger’s. As he passed over Roger’s head it seemed certain that those big bare horny feet would smash into the boy’s face, and Roger tightly closed his eyes.