When the Lion Feeds (48 page)

That is always the way. Oupa. nodded. Do you agree? Sean turned in his -saddle towards Jan Paulus. Jan Paulus granted. He showed little inclination to open his mouth since he'd lost his tooth.

They found the spoor within an hour. The herd had wrecked a road through the thick bush along the river.

They had stripped the bark from the saplings and left them naked and bleeding. They had knocked down bigger trees to reach the tender top leaves and they had dropped their great piles of dung in the grass.

We need no trackers to follow this. Jan Paulus had the first excitement on him. Sean looked at him and wondered how many elephant had died in front of his rifle. A thousand perhaps, and yet the excitement was on him again now. Tell your servants to follow us. We'll go ahead. We catch them within an hour. He smiled at Sean, gaptoothed, and Sean felt the excitement lift the hair on his own forearms. He smiled back.

They cantered in a rough line abreast, slack-reined to let the horses pick their own way among the fallen trees.

The river bush thinned out as they moved north and soon they were into parkland. The grass brushed their stirrups and the ground beneath it was firm and smooth.

They rode without talking, leaning forward in their saddles, looking ahead. The rhythmic beat of hooves was a war drum. Sean ran his fingers along the row of bullets strapped across his chest, then he drew his rifle, checked the load and thrust it back into its scabbard.

There! said Oupa and Sean saw the herd. It was massed among a grove of fever trees a quarter of a mile ahead. Name of a name, Paulus whistled.

There must be two hundred at least. Sean heard the first pig-squeal of alarm, saw ears fan out and trunks lift. Then the herd bunched together and ran with their backs humped, a thin screen of dust trailing behind them. Paulus take the right flank. You, meneer, in the middle and I'll ride left, shouted Oupa.

he jammed his hat down over his ears and his horse jumped under him as he hit it with his heels. Like a thrown trident the three horsemen hurled themselves at the herd. Sean rode into the dust. He picked an old cow elephant from the moving mountain range in front Of him and pressed Ins horse so close upon her that he could see the bristles in her tail tuft and the erosion of her skin, wrinkled as an old man's scrotum. He touched his hand to his horse's neck and it plunged, from full gallop to standstill in half a dozen strides. Sean threw his feet free of the stirrups and hit the ground, loose-kneed to ride the shock.

The cow's spine was a line of lumps beneath the grey skin, Sean broke it with his first bullet and she dropped, sliding on her hindquarters like a dog with worms. His horse started to run again before he was properly in the saddle and everything became movement and noise, dust and the smell of burnt powder. Chase them, coughing in the dust. Close with them. Off the horse and shoot. Wet blood on grey skin. Slam, slam of the rifle, its barrel hot, recoiling savagely. Sweat in the eyes, stinging.

Ride. Shoot again. Two more down, screaming, anchored by paralysed legs. Blood-red as a flag. Load, cramming cartridges into the rifle.

Ride. Chase them, shoot again and again. The bullets striking on flesh with a hollow sound, then up and ride again. Ride, until the horse could no longer keep up with them and he had to let them go. He stood holding his horse's head, the dust and the thirst closed his throat. He could not swallow. His hands trembled in reaction. His shoulder was aching again. He untied his silk scarf, wiped his face with it and blew the mud out of his nose, then he drank from his water-bottle. The water tasted sweet.

The hunt had led from parkland into mopam bush. It was very thick, shiny green leaves hanging to the ground and pressing close around him.

The air was still and warm to breathe. He turned back along the line of the chase. He found them by their squealing. When they saw him they tried to charge, dragging themselves towards him, using the front legs only and groping with their dunks. They sagged into stillness after the head shot. This was the bad part. Sean worked quickly. He could hear the other rifles in the mopard forest around him and when he came to one of the long clearings among the trees he saw Jan Paulus walking towards him, leading his horse.

How many? called Sean. Gott, Man, I didn't count. What a killing, hey? Have you got a drink for me? I dropped my water-bottle somewhere.

Jan Paulus's rifle was in its saddle scabbard. The reins were slung over his shoulder and his horse followed him with its head drooping from exhaustion. The clearing was walled in with the dense mopani trees and a wounded elephant broke into the open. It was lung shot, the side of its chest painted with froth, and when it squealed the blood sprayed in a pink spout from the end of its trunk.

It went for Jan Paulus, streaming the black battle ensigris of its ears.

His horse reared, the reins snapped, it turned free and galloped away, leaving jan full in the path of the charge. Sean went up onto his horse's back without touching stirrups. His horse threw its head, dancing in a tight circle, but he dragged it around and drove it to intercept the charge. Don't run, for God's sake, don't run! he shouted as he cleared his rifle from the scabbard. Jan Paulus heard him.

He stood with his hands at his sides, his feet apart and his body braced. The elephant heard Sean shout also and it swung its head and sean saw the first hesitation in its run. He fired, not trying to pick his shot, hoping only to hurt it, to bring it away from Jan Paulus. The bullet slapped into it with the sound of a wet towel flicked against a wall. The elephant turned, clumsy with the weakness of its shattered lungs. Sean gathered his horse beneath him and wheeled it away and the elephant followed him.

Sean fumbled as he reloaded, his hands were slippery with sweat. One of the brass shells slipped through his fingers, tapped against his knee and dropped into the grass under his horse's hooves. The elephant gained on him. He loosened his bed-roll from the saddle and let it fall, they would sometimes stop to savage even a fallen hat, but not this one. He turned in the saddle and fired into it. It squeled again so close upon him that the blown blood splattered into his face. His horse was almost finished; he could feel its legs flopping with every stride and they were nearly at the end of the clearing racing towards the solid wall of green mopani. He pushed another round into the breech of his rifle and swung his body across the saddle.

He slid down until his feet touched the ground and he was running next to his horse. He let go and was flung forward, but he fought to keep his balance, his body jarring with the force of his run. Then, still on his feet, he turned for his first steady shot. The elephant was coming in fast, almost on top of him, hanging over him like a Cliff. Its trunk coiled on its chest and the curves of its ivory were lifted high.

it's too close, much too close, I can't hit the brain from here.

He aimed at the hollow in its forehead just above the level of its eyes.

He fired and the elephants legs folded up; its brain burst like an overripe tomato within the bone castle of its skull.

Sean tried to jump aside as the massive body came skidding down upon him, but one of its legs hit him and threw him face down into the grass.

He lay there. He felt sick, for his stomach was still full of warm oily fear.

After a while he sat up and looked at the elephant. one of its tusks had snapped off flush with the lip. Jan Paulus came, panting from his run. He stopped next to the elePhant and touched the wound in its forehead, then he wiped his fingers on his shirt. Are you all right, man? He took Sean's arm and helped him to his feet; then he picked up sean's hat and dusted it carefully before handing it to him.

in the three-sided shelter formed by the belly and outthrust legs of one of the dead elephants they made their camp that night. They drank coffee together and Sean sat between the two Leroux with his back against the rough skin of the elephants belly. The silhouettes of the tree against the night sky were deformed by the shapes of the vultures that clustered in them and the darkness was ugly with the giggling of hyena. They had set a feast for the scavengers. They spoke little for they were tired, but Sean could feel the gratitude of the men who sat beside him and before they rolled into their blankets Jan Paulus said gruffly, Thank you, kerel. , You might be able to do the same for me one day. I hope so, ja! I hope so. In the morning oupa said, It's going to take us three or four days to cut out all this ivory. He looked up at the sky. I don't like these clouds. One of us had better ride.

back to camp to fetch more men and wagons to carry the ivory.

i'll go Sean stood up quickly. I was thinking of going myself. But sean was already calling to Mbejane to saddle his horse and Oupa couldn't really argue with him, not after yesterday.

Tell Ourna to take the wagons across the river, he acquiesced. We don't want to be caught on this side when the river floods. Perhaps you wouldn't mind helping her. No, Sean assured him. I don't mind at all.

His horse was still tired from the previous day's hunt and it was three hours before he reached the river.

He tied his horse on the bank and went down to one of the pools. He stripped off his clothes and lowered himself into the water. He scrubbed himself with handfuls of the coarse sand and when he waded out of the pool and dried on his shirt his skin was tingling. He rode along the bank and the temptation to gallop his horse was almost unbearable.

He laughed to himself a little. The field's almost clear, though I wouldn't put it past that suspicious old Dutchman to follow me He laughed again and thought about the colour of her eyes, green as creme-de-menthe in a crystal glass, and the shape of her bosom. The muscles in his legs tightened and the horse lengthened its stride in response to the pressure of his knees. All right, run then, Sean encouraged it, I don't insist on it, but I would be grateful. He went to his own wagons first and changed his sweaty shirt for a fresh one, his leather breeches for clean calico and his scuffed boots for soft pohshed leather. He scrubbed his teeth with salt and dragged a comb through his hair and beard. He saw in the mirror that the battle damage to his face was fading and he winked at his image. How can she resist you? He gave his mustache one more twirl, climbed out of the wagon and was immediately aware of a most uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. He walked towards the Leroux laager thinking about it, and he recognized it as the same feeling he used to have when Waite Courtney called him to the study to do penance for his boyhood sins. That's odd, he muttered.

Why should I feel like that?

His confidence faded and he stopped. I wonder if my breath smells, I think I'd better go back and get some cloves He turned with relief, knew it as cowardice and stopped again. Get a grip on yourself. She's only a girl, an uneducated little Dutch girl. You've had fifty finer women.

Name me two, he shot back at himself.

Well, there was, Oh! for Chrissake, come on. Resolutely he set off for the Leroux laager again.

She was sitting in the sun within the circle of wagons.

She was leaning forward on the stool and her newlywashed hair fell thickly over her face almost to the ground. with each stroke of the brush it leapt like a live thing and the sun sparkled the red lights in it. Sean wanted to touch it, he wanted to twist fistfuls of it round his hands and he wanted to smell it, it would smell warm and slightly milky like a puppy's fur. He stepped softly towards her but before he reached her she took the shiny mass with both hands and threw it back over her shoulders, a startled flash of green eyes, one despairing wall, oh, no! not with my hair like this A swirl of skirts that sent the stool flying and she was gone into her wagon- Sean scratched the side of his nose and stood awkwardly. Why are you back so soon, meneer? she called through the canvas. Where are the others? Is everything all right! Yes, they're both fine. I left them and came to fetch wagons to carry the ivory. oh, that's good. Sean tried to interpret the inflection of her voice: was it good that they were fine, or good that he had left them? So far the indications were favourable;

her confusion at seeing him boded well. What's wrong? Ouma bellowed from one of the other wagons. It's not Oupa, don't tell me something has happened to him?

The wagon rocked wildly and her pink face, puckered with sleep, popped out of the opening.

Sean's reassurances were smothered by her voice. Oh, I knew this would happen. I had a feeling. I shouldn't have let him go! Paulus, oh, Jan paulus, I must go to him. Where is he?

Henrietta came running" from the cooking fire behind the wagons and then the dogs started barking and the servants added their chatter to the confusion. Sean tried to shout them all down and watch Katrina emerging from her wagon at the same time. She had disciplined her hair now, it had a green ribbon in it and hung down her back.

She was laughing and she helped him to quieten Ouma and Henrietta.

They brought him coffee, then they sat round him and listened to the story of the hunt. Sean went into detail on the rescue of Jan Paulus and was rewarded by a softening of the dislike in Henrietta's eyes. By the time Sean had finished talking it was too late to start moving the wagons across the river. So he talked some more, it was most agreeable to have three women as an attentive audience, and then they ate supper.

With ostentatious tact Ouma and Henrietta retired early to their respective living wagons and left Sean and Katrina sitting by the fire.