Settlers and Scouts Part 5

said Mr. Halliday. "The men are a good riddance; but I grudge those rifles of ours. However, it can't be helped. We must keep a sharp eye on our people, and fire out at once any we can't trust."

The loads abandoned by the runaways were brought across the river without interference, and after they had been strapped on the donkeys'

backs the little caravan started to return to the farm.

CHAPTER THE SIXTH--Raided by Lions

The return march was not so hurried as the pursuit, and it was the afternoon of the fifth day after their departure when the little party arrived at the farm. Mr. Halliday was surprised that none of the Wakamba had come to meet him, thinking that they must have descried him from afar; and still more surprised when, on entering the enclosure, he could not see any of his people. Surely they had not all deserted!

Pa.s.sing through the second boma, however, he heard a howl, and immediately afterwards the natives came rus.h.i.+ng pell-mell towards him out of their gra.s.s huts, Wasama and Lulu, Juma's wife, leading the way.

They crowded about him, all shouting together, and making such a din that Coja himself could not at once distinguish what they were saying.

But when Mr. Halliday had sternly called for order, Coja made out that the people were in a terrible state of fright, because a cow had been carried away during the night without a sound.

They declared that the robber must be the devil whom Mr. Halliday had professed to slay.

"Nonsense!" said Mr. Halliday. "It must have been a lion."

But no--Wasama declared it could not have been a lion, for he had not heard a lion's roar, and there was no breach in the outer boma: only a devil could have pa.s.sed through it without forcing a gap.

When Mr. Halliday set Coja to question the man, however, he learnt that neither he nor any other of the natives had stirred outside the inner enclosure that day, so that they were hardly in a position to know whether the boma had been broken or not. An examination of it soon revealed a gap in the western side, and bits of tawny hide were sticking to the thorns. Mr. Halliday insisted on Wasama following up the tracks which even his inexperienced eye discovered, and within a quarter of a mile he came upon some bones and a few remnants of a carcase, from which a couple of vultures flew away. Wasama, however, persisted in his a.s.sertion that the track was not that of a lion, and the others backing him up, Mr. Halliday sent John and Coja to the wood to fetch the Wanderobbo, determined to clear up the point before dark.

The Wanderobbo came bringing a small gourd of wild honey which he offered to Mr. Halliday. The little man threw one glance on the blood-bespattered ground, and then said that the tracks were undoubtedly those of two lions, which would probably return to the spot during the coming night.

"Then we'll stay and wait for them, John," said Mr. Halliday. "We mustn't be molested in this way, and the sooner we teach the beasts a lesson, the better."

But the Wanderobbo, when this was explained to him, earnestly advised the white men not to do anything of the sort. There was no tree at hand, he pointed out, in which the hunters could rest and watch for the lions, and they, having far keener sight than men, would merely stalk them. In the darkness they could not even see to shoot. He said that they had better return to the settlement and watch inside the boma; and since darkness would soon fall, he begged to be taken in for the night, to which Mr. Halliday readily agreed.

Neither of the Englishmen slept that night. They sat at their tent door, with their rifles within reach, listening to the distant roaring, and awaiting with a nervous impatience the onset of the terrible beasts.

The roars drew nearer, then ceased. The men clutched their rifles, and stole into the outer enclosure, where the sheep were huddled together in terror. They waited for several hours, peering into the darkness, but neither saw nor heard any more of the marauders, though when they went out with the Wanderobbo in the morning, they traced the spoor of lions within a few yards of the boma.

This experience was repeated for several nights following. To lessen their fatigue, Mr. Halliday and John took turns to watch, but though each night they heard the roars, there was no attempt to break in.

Thinking that the fires, which were kept burning all night, were proving effectual in scaring the beasts, both father and son decided one day to go to sleep as usual. But in the middle of the night they were startled by a yell. Springing up, they seized their rifles, and rushed out of the tent in their pyjamas. There was a great commotion among the animals in the outer enclosure, and das.h.i.+ng through them, Mr. Halliday saw that a gap had been broken in the boma no more than three yards from one of the fires. The man whose turn it was to replenish it with fuel, and whose yell had awakened the white men, said that a lion had sprung through without warning and carried off a sheep. It was useless to attempt to pursue the robber in the dark, and Mr. Halliday could only swallow his vexation and return to his interrupted sleep.

Nothing disturbed the work of the settlement during the daytime. The Indian carpenters were making good progress with the bungalow and the other sheds which Mr. Halliday had decided to erect on the north side, nearest the river. The soil outside the boma was being slowly prepared for crops, and finding after a few days that his Wakamba porters were but indifferent labourers, Mr. Halliday dismissed them, resolving to rely upon the people of the neighbouring villages for such farm labour as he required. He intended to bring only a small area under cultivation at first, for the purpose of growing enough grain and vegetables for his own consumption. Difficulties of transit would prevent him from dealing in farm produce; the work of driving his cattle by and by over a hundred miles to market would no doubt prove arduous enough.

But though the days were thus placid, the nights became a horror. If a watch was kept, the peace of the encampment was undisturbed except by the remote and harmless roars; but as soon as the weary Englishmen determined to enjoy a full night's rest, the thorn fence would be broken at some new spot, and when the sheep and cattle were numbered in the morning it was found that one or more was missing. The natives became scared, and as for Mr. Halliday, he declared it was positively uncanny.

"One would think the beasts have the gift of second sight," he said. "I don't wonder our village friends kept their cattle off these grounds and believed in Gilmour's devil."

The only incident that relieved the tension and afforded a little amus.e.m.e.nt was the discovery one morning that the lion in his haste had s.n.a.t.c.hed up a bag of rice, which was found at some little distance, the grains scattered about as though the thief had lost his temper when he became aware of the mistake.

It was fortunate indeed for the little community that the lions were apparently not man-eaters. A lion that has once tasted man thenceforth scorns lesser fare, and Coja told his employers harrowing stories of the reign of terror under which the coolies who had been engaged in laying the Uganda railway had lived. Night after night the terrible beasts had crept into the native encampments and stolen forth in dead silence with their hapless prey, ceasing their depredations for months at a time, but returning when the men were lulled to security, and beginning their havoc over again. Mr. Halliday had heard of this from Mr. Gillespie in Nairobi; but the story told now by one who had actually lived in the camps thus visited at night, and punctuated by the roaring of lions at a distance, made a much more powerful and harrowing impression. At any moment the lions might become man-eaters. They had only to stumble upon a native in their nocturnal raids and then the life of no man would be safe.

More than once Mr. Halliday set off in the daytime with John and the Wanderobbo, who was now a frequent visitor to the farm, to track the lions and if possible hunt them down. They found that the spoor led into the dense scrub higher up the river, a region ten or twelve miles in length and nearly as much in breadth. So thick was the scrub that it was impossible to trace the beasts for more than a few yards into its recesses. After what he had heard of the Wanderobbo's skill and prowess as a hunter, Mr. Halliday was surprised to find how reluctant the little man was to accompany them in their expeditions. But he had a wholesome dread of lions. Elephants he was prepared to tackle, and indeed any other creature of the wilds; though even them he would rather snare than stalk; but the lion was a much more cunning and dangerous enemy. He would talk very bravely sometimes, avowing that if he met a lion and stared at him the beast would slink away; but he showed no readiness to enter the probable haunts of the creatures, and admitted that they sometimes took it into their heads to fight instead of running away, and then they were quite as clever hunters as he was. Mr. Halliday somewhat impatiently reminded him that rifles were very deadly weapons; but the Wanderobbo shook his head and said that he had never hunted lions with rifles. He had seen the Arabs do so, and pay for their temerity with their lives. On the whole his advice was to leave the lions alone, and he once confessed very navely that if he, bold hunter as he was, saw a lion approaching, he would certainly go the other way.

With such half-hearted a.s.sistance it was not surprising that many days pa.s.sed before the Englishmen so much as caught a glimpse of their tormentors. However, one morning when they had gone out with the Wanderobbo and Coja to track the smaller game for food, they descried two lions stalking slowly across a glade some miles up the river. In spite of the little man's reluctance Mr. Halliday determined to go in chase, and then the Wanderobbo, forgetting his fears when his hunting instincts were aroused, suggested that they should tempt the lions to come within range. He proposed that they should carry a water-buck which John had just brought down, to a spot where the scent of it would be wafted by the wind towards the beasts. This having been done, the party retreated to the rear of the lions and lurked behind some trees to watch them. The lions soon scented the game, and came slowly towards it, moving with a majestic and yet graceful gait that extorted murmurs of admiration from the Englishmen. But when they had come within two hundred yards, and John was quivering with excitement at the prospect of his first encounter with the king of beasts, one of them became suspicious and halted, lifting his head and sniffing the air, and then uttering a low growl as if to warn his companion. After a minute or two they seemed to decide that they were being led into a trap, and, turning about, stalked slowly away.

"Let's go after them, father," said John, unwilling to let this chance slip.

The four set off stealthily to stalk the beasts, and after an hour's fatiguing march over rough ground, saw them standing together at the edge of a patch of bush just beyond range. Bending low, and taking advantage of every tree and tussock of gra.s.s, and a tall ant-hill, for cover, the two Englishmen drew nearer and nearer, and were on the point of lifting their rifles to fire, when the animals disappeared into the bush. There was nothing for it but to begin the stalking again. They cautiously made the circuit of the bush, and presently saw the lions emerge from the further end and continue their promenade. Again the hunters followed them, at one moment flattering themselves that a few yards further would bring them within range, the next chagrined to perceive that the lions had quickened their pace and outdistanced them.

At length, when a thin patch of woodland enabled them to hurry their steps and gave hope of overtaking their quarry, the lions broke into a trot and soon disappeared from view.

"Well, if that isn't disgusting!" exclaimed John,

"How long have we been at this game, do you think?" asked his father.

"Two or three hours, perhaps."

"Five hours and a half, my boy, and I rather think we might have been better employed."

John was too much disgusted at the failure of his first lion-hunt to say any more; and when next morning it was found that one of the best cows had been stolen he was still more angry.

"We must put a stop to this, father," he said. "Can't we set a trap?"

"We'll see what our friend Bill says," replied Mr. Halliday. The Wanderobbo's name had proved so unp.r.o.nounceable that he had been called Bill for short. Bill, however, said that lions were too clever to be caught in traps, which did not seem improbable when he explained what he meant by a trap--a simple pit with a sharpened stick at the bottom, like that in which Oliver Browne had been found, or a spear suspended from the branch of a tree and brought down by the animal treading on a rope.

Mr. Halliday set to work to devise a more effective machine.

He got the mistris to cut several stout logs, out of which they constructed a sort of gigantic rat-trap. The door was arranged so that it was held in position by a light pole attached to a length of stout wire, which was connected with a spring hidden under leaves on the floor of the trap. If a lion should enter and tread on the spring, the wire would be released and the door fall behind him down two grooves of corrugated iron. To entice him to enter, a live goat was placed in a compartment adjoining the trap, so strongly fenced that the bait was in no danger.

This trap was rigged up, with the expenditure of a day's work, at one corner of the outer boma.

"It's rather poor sport to treat the lion like a rat," said John, "but that can't be helped. If we catch one we shan't be able to get a good shot at him in the dark, though."

"Well, we can either keep him there till daylight, or, better still, burn a bit of magnesium wire--I've plenty; that will not only give us a good light, but possibly help to scare other beasts away."

The trap was set. For two nights nothing happened. On the third, just as the two Englishmen were thinking of turning in, they heard the door of the trap fall with a clatter, followed by a low growl of rage. They caught up their rifles and hurried to the spot.

"Now for the wire, father," said John. "You give me a light and I'll pot the beast."

Mr. Halliday struck a match and ignited the wire, but just as John was taking aim it fell to the ground.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"I'm as nervous as a cat," said his father, with a rueful laugh. "And I haven't brought a second piece, confound it!"

"Well, we'll take a shot in the dark. We can't both miss."

They fired together. The next moment there was a terrific roar, a crash as of shattered match-wood, and they knew that the infuriated captive had burst through the walls of the trap, stout as they were. They fired another shot in the direction they supposed him to have taken, and then, vexed and disappointed, returned to their tent. They found next day that the lion had been wounded. Bill traced it by the stains of blood upon the ground. But its injuries were plainly not very serious, for the track failed at a patch of reeds a mile up the river, and the Englishmen had to digest their chagrin that the troublesome beast was still at large. Their efforts, however, had not been wholly unsuccessful. The nocturnal visitations ceased, and since no roaring was heard it appeared that the lions had been scared from the neighbourhood.

CHAPTER THE SEVENTH--John runs the Farm

Within three months of Mr. Halliday's arrival at his farm, which he named Alloway after the village of his father's birth, the place had a.s.sumed the orderly appearance of a prosperous settlement. The knoll was crowned by a neat bungalow; two hundred yards below it stood two wooden huts appropriated to Said Mohammed and the mistris; at some distance from this a row of cattle-sheds had been erected; and beyond these stood the gra.s.s huts of Wasama and his son and Lulu the negress, these being all who remained of the original party. Pens had been made for the sheep and goats; about twenty acres of land had been prepared for planting when the rains began; and a dairy had been started, being cut out of the side of the knoll on which the bungalow stood, for the sake of coolness and protection from the sun and dust.