Читать книгу Tales from the Veld - Glanville Ernest - Страница 7

I have referred to Bolo, an old Kaffir medicine man, who, on his professional tour round the country, always remained a day or two with Abe Pike, in his way, a great doctor with a valuable fund of information about the medicinal properties of plants and roots. Bolo turned up in the evening, fresh from a beer dance, and the manner of his coming was that of a ravenous lion. He charged down upon the house in the dusk, with his necklet bones rattling, the horsehair mane flying, and the bellow of his deep voice setting the dogs off into a fury of barking, up he came – leaping, bounding, hurling himself forward with in-creditable swiftness, whirling his knobbed kerrie, his eyes glaring and his features twitching, the dogs snapping around him – right up to the door, as if he meant to burst in and brain everyone he met. Then he stopped, smiled in a wide vacuous way, took snuff, and squatted down, while the dogs as suddenly ceased their clamour and walked sheepishly away.

“Well, you clatterin’ ole heathen,” said Abe, seating himself on the door-step, and shaving slices of tobacco against the ball of his thumb; “what mischief have you been up to?”

“Yoh,” said Bolo, resting his long arms on his knees; “I have heard tales of the black tiger and the white man’s fear. But my medicine has sent the black evil away back again to the big kloof.”

“To the kloof on my farm?”

“Eweh! Why not? The white man is a great medicine man. Has he not a familiar in the old baboon – who is the most cunning of familiars?”

“That’s so,” said Abe gravely; “the baboon is cunnin’, but he don’t know everything. Did I ever tell you the yarn o’ the baboon an’ the tortoise?”

“No. Fire away, Uncle.” He hitched himself up against the door-post and related his story in Kaffir for Bolo’s benefit, though I prefer to render it in English.

“The ole skelpot, one day hunting aroun’ nosed out a store o’ yearth nuts. He raked the yearth over an’ flatten’ it down, an’ he jes’ crawl aroun’ till the dry weather sot in, when he took’d up his quarters near the hidden store. One day he meet ole man baboon searching fer grubs. ‘Things is mighty dry,’ says the baboon. ‘Might be drier,’ says the skelpot. ‘Food is skerce,’ says the baboon. ‘Might be skercer,’ says the skelpot. ‘Ho! ho!’ says the baboon, mighty sharp, ‘you don’t seem to be troubled in your shell. There’s a shine on your shell, ole man skelpot,’ he says. ‘Shell shine when the stummick don’t pine,’ says the skelpot.”

“Er-umh!” grunted Bolo.

“‘Shell shine when the stummick don’t pine,’ said the skelpot. ‘Baugh,’ says the baboon, ‘p’raps you got some food, skelpot,’ says the baboon. ‘I’m gwine to sleep,’ says the skelpot, an’ he drew his head into his house, so the baboon couldn’t ask him any more questions.”

“Er-umh!” said Bolo, politely signifying his sustained interest.

“The ole man baboon he make sure the skelpot’s got some store o’ food, so he hid hisself in a tree an’ kep’ watch. There ain’t no hurry about a skelpot, an’ this yer skelpot he kep’ on sleepin’ all through the day, an’ the baboon got that hungry he were obliged ter gnaw the bark from the tree. But he jes’ kep’ on watchin’, an’ in the dusk he seed the skelpot pop out his head.”

“Er-umh!” said Bolo.

“Then the baboon climbed down softly, an’ when the skelpot move off, he follow’d. Arter a time the skelpot begin to scrape up the yearth, an’ the baboon look over his shoulder. He can’t see nothing, but he smelt the yearth nuts, an’ he makes a grab. ‘So! so!’ he says chuckling, ‘you got a fine pantry these dry times. Now you’ll have to go shares, or I’ll give the news out.’ Well, the skelpot he sees he were fairly caught, an’ so he take ole man baboon inter partnership, an’ the baboon show him where he’s ’ole is, though it were empty now.”

“Er-umh!” grunted Bolo.

“Well, the baboon got a bigger stummick than the skelpot, an it were not long afore he took two nuts to one; then he began ter take some away to his private ’ole in a Kaffir plum tree; then he break the agreement by taking three meals a day to the skelpot’s one.”

“Er-umh!” said Bolo.

“Well, about this time the skelpot smell’d out the baboon.”

“Eh-umh!” said Bolo.

“So he made a plan. He roll hisself in the mud, an’ crawl up near the store, where he draw his head in. Bymby ole man baboon come up, an arter takin’ some nuts, he sot down on ole skelpot to make his feast. ‘Poor ole skelpot,’ says the baboon, ‘three meals to his one, an’ a heap o’ nuts in my store ’ole by the ole ant-hill.’ ‘Too-loo-loo!’ says the skelpot. ‘What’s that noise?’ said the baboon. ‘Too-loo-loo!’ says the skelpot. ‘Hist!’ says the baboon, knockin’ his stummick. ‘Too-loo-loo!’ says the skelpot; then drawin’ in his breath he let it out ag’in, ‘Hiss! puff!’ like a great big snake. O’ coorse the baboon’s dead scared o’ snakes, an’ droppin’ the nuts he jest scooted fer the woods.”

“Er-umph!” said Bolo.

“He jest up an’ scooted fer the woods, an’ the skelpot arter eatin’ the nuts, he went back to the ’ole, scooped the yearth away, an’ crawled in. The baboon were very scared, but when the hunger come back he went for some more nuts. No sooner did he pop his hand in than the skelpot grab him by the little finger and hold on.”

“Eh! eh!” said Bolo.

“Grabbed him by ther little finger. The baboon nearly jumped outer his skin. ‘Who’s got hold o’ me?’ he yelled, but the skelpot he can’t talk, fer his mouth’s full. ‘Let me go!’ howled the baboon, an’ he pull and he pull, and bymby he draw the skelpot’s head outer the ’ole. Well, the skelpot he’s got a head like a puff-adder when yer don’t see his shell, an’ when the baboon see’d that yellow head glued onter his finger, he jest went green, and turned over in a fit. Bymby the baboon shivers, then he sot up. ‘Hiss! poof!’ says the skelpot, an’ the baboon lit out with a shriek, never to come back to that part ag’in. ‘Hiss! poof!’ says the skelpot, an’ the baboon lit out fer the nex’ country.”