Then reflecting
that I was to be some time in the country, and that the lion might get
over his scare, I added, "The power of this magic is three days."
They departed very much impressed. A little later Memba Sasa and I
followed them. The manyatta was most picturesquely placed atop the
conical hill at the foot of the valley. From its elevation we could see
here and there in the distance the variegated blotches of red and white
and black that represented the cattle herds. Innumerable flocks of sheep
and goats, under charge of the small boys and youths, fed nearer at
hand. The low smooth-plastered huts, with their abattis of thorn bush
between, crowned the peak like a chaplet. Outside it sat a number of
elders sunning themselves, and several smiling, good-natured young
women, probably the spoiled darlings of these plutocrats. One of these
damsels spake Swahili, so we managed to exchange compliments. They told
us exactly when and how the lion had gone. Three nimble old gentlemen
accompanied us when we left. They were armed with spears; and they
displayed the most extraordinary activity, skipping here and there
across the ravines and through the brush, casting huge stones into
likely cover, and generally making themselves ubiquitous. However, we
did not come up with the lion.
In our clinic that evening appeared one of the men claiming to suffer
from rheumatism. I suspected him, and still suspect him, of malingering
in advance in order to get out of the hard work we must soon undertake,
but had no means of proving my suspicion.
Pages:
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289