Part 7

Insect bites and sores on her body which she had received along the way, and to which she had paid little attention, now seemed very troublesome. Still, she was determined that she would not make Zitu regret taking her on this hunt. Not a word would she say about being thirsty and tired. But she had lost interest in elephants and in anything that was to be seen along the trail. Her only thought was of her longing for water and a place to lie down. How she wished she were with her mother. Makanya would be sure to know what to do to make her feel better.

Finally Nomusa could go no farther. She would have to stop no matter what happened. The others could go on without her.

Nomusa lay down on a grassy slope, hidden by the long grass. She closed her eyes. The hunters filed past without knowing she was lying there. How long she lay there Nomusa did not know. She must have fallen asleep.

She lay like a stone on the earth; then she became dimly aware of someone bending over her and saying, “Are you sick, Nomusa?” The voice sounded far away.

Nomusa opened her eyes. “Oh, Damasi,” she said weakly, “I am very tired, and so thirsty.”

“We have come to a little stream, not far from here, where we are all bathing and resting. Come,” he urged.

“You were good to come back for me,” murmured Nomusa.

“It was not I who thought of it first,” admitted Damasi. “While we were sitting at the stream your father suddenly missed you and asked me to go back and look for you. Let us go. I shall help you.”

When they came to the hunters, Damasi took Nomusa directly to her father. “Sit here,” Zitu said. “Damasi, bring water.”

Out of a pouch in his belt Zitu took some powdered herbs, which he mixed with water. It was a bitter drink, and Nomusa shuddered as she swallowed it.

“Now rest,” her father said gently.

As she drank more water Nomusa began to grow comfortably warm, and her cold sweat turned to warm perspiration. “Ah, that is well,” said her father as he felt her brow. “You will feel better now. I think you did not chew the elephant meat well enough. The first time I ate elephant meat I felt ill, too.” It comforted Nomusa to hear this.

Before long Nomusa felt quite strong again; she was ready to get up and go along. When Zitu saw this, he gave the signal to start.

“It is not very far from here where we left the first elephant,” he said.

Nomusa kept a sharp lookout, hoping to be the first to see it. But it was Zitu’s keen eyes that found the animal. The chief stopped, frowning.

“_Hau!_” he cried. “What is this?”

[Illustration: [Men]]

There, swarming over the elephant like black ants, were many tiny dark people. Who were they and what were they doing on her father’s elephant? Nomusa wondered. There would certainly be trouble now. Nomusa saw the faces of her father and the other hunters fill with anger. Chief Zitu shouted, “We killed this elephant! It belongs to us!”

The small people answered in a storm of words none of the Zulus understood. Threateningly they picked up their toylike bows and arrows. The Zulu hunters raised their spears, ready to use them at a word from their chief. Nomusa was excited and afraid too. There would surely be a terrible fight.

But Zitu spoke to them again, in a quieter tone. He made signs with his hands, saying that he and his men must have the tusks, but the little people could have the rest of the elephant. At last they understood, and they laid down their weapons, to the great relief of all. The Zulus, too, dropped their weapons on the ground and slowly approached the dead elephant.

The small people began cutting open the huge animal. As Nomusa watched, she saw how carefully they pulled out the eyelashes and the long hairs from the elephant’s ears. They seemed to treasure these especially. Some of them were cutting off chunks of elephant meat and eating it raw. How sick they will be! thought Nomusa.

Full of curiosity about these small people, Nomusa drew near her father and asked, “My father, who are these strange people? They do not seem at all like us.”

“They are Pygmies, who live in the forest here,” Zitu replied. “Only once before have I ever met any, and that was when we had gone on a hunt ten sleeps away. These Pygmies have wandered a long distance from their home, far to the north.”

Nomusa kept her eyes fixed on the fascinating little people. She noticed that the tallest among them was just a little taller than she was. They were lighter in color than the Zulus, and much hairier.

While the hunters were hacking out the elephant’s tusks, Nomusa stayed close to the Pygmies so she could learn as much as possible about them. They wore nothing but a small flap of eland skin below their fat bellies and had no ornaments of any kind. To Nomusa they looked very drab and bare without beads or bracelets. Their arms seemed too long for their bodies; their legs were short; their feet were very large. But their toes were the most remarkable of all. They were so long that they looked more like fingers than toes. How wonderful they must be for climbing trees! thought Nomusa.

The Pygmies moved quickly and seemed to have a natural cleverness in doing things. Nomusa felt much attracted to the little people when she saw how merry and playful they were, how helpful and kind to each other.

Some of them had made a fire and were smoking large chunks of elephant meat on pointed sticks. Others crawled inside the elephant and cut out the heart and liver, handing them to others on the outside.

After a while Nomusa noticed that from time to time a few Pygmies would disappear into the forest, carrying smoked meat on long sticks. She wondered where they went. Perhaps her father would let her follow them.

But this was no time to ask for a favor. Zitu was busy, and he did not like working with so many Pygmies swarming about him. They got in his way so that it was difficult to move without bumping into one of them. The little people were as curious about the Zulus as Nomusa was about the Pygmies.

When she saw her father looking more cheerful, Nomusa went to him and said, “My father, I am very curious about these small people and how they live. May I follow one of them when he goes into the forest?”

Zitu was silent for a moment, and Nomusa thought he was angry at her foolish request. But he only turned his head and called: “Sikhulumi! Come!”

Sikhulumi came quickly, and Zitu said: “My daughter wants to see where the Pygmies live. Go with her and look after her. You know a little of their language.”

Sikhulumi nodded gravely. The tall hunter was pleased and proud that the chief entrusted him with such an errand, especially after his recklessness of the day before.

Zitu added, smiling: “Nomusa seems very much interested in these little people. Perhaps you can find her a husband among them.”

Sikhulumi laughed, and Nomusa made a face.

As one of the Pygmies started off with a load, Zitu tapped his shoulder. Smiling, he pointed to Nomusa. The Pygmy grinned, looking at Nomusa with great interest; but they could see he did not understand what was meant. Sikhulumi said a few words in the Pygmy language. The Pygmy finally smiled and nodded his head. He would guide them to the place where his people lived.

[Illustration: [Men]]

[Illustration: [Huts]]

SIXTEEN: The Pygmy Settlement

Nomusa and Sikhulumi followed the little man through the dense forest. He walked swiftly and quietly, half running through bushes and under low branches. There was no path, and Nomusa and Sikhulumi had to move quickly to keep the Pygmy in sight. If they lost him, they might not easily find their way back to the hunters, much less find the Pygmy settlement.

Now and then the Pygmy turned to see if they were still following. Sometimes he slowed down to allow them to catch up with him. He was much stronger than he looked. Although he carried a heavy load of meat, he did not stop to rest even once.

At last they came to the Pygmy settlement. When the other Pygmies saw Nomusa and Sikhulumi, they stopped, looking startled. Nomusa’s Pygmy companion said something to them, pointing to the visitors. Then the Pygmies came forward and helped carry the smoked meat to one of their little houses.

Nomusa saw that these huts were made of bent branches tied together with vines. Leaves were laid over the branches to keep out the sun and rain. The huts were small and not carefully made. Perhaps the Pygmies did not bother to make a better hut because they did not stay in one place very long. The Zulu huts were much larger and stronger, for they stayed in the same place for years and years.

Sikhulumi explained to Nomusa that the Pygmies lived only on what wild animals they could catch and on roots and berries found growing in the forest. The Zulus owned cattle, and they planted their own gardens with a wide variety of vegetables and fruits. They did not have to wander from place to place in search of food like the Pygmies.

Their Pygmy guide now invited them to come and see the inside of a hut. Sikhulumi decided he was too big to enter, but he urged Nomusa to go in. When she crawled in through the low opening, she saw a woman, smaller than herself, carrying a baby astride her hip. The woman was cooking something in a black pot over a fire. From time to time she left the hut, returning quickly with caterpillars or winged ants, snails or lizards. All these she threw into the pot. Once a small boy, little more than half the size of Themba, came in with a bush rat to put into the pot.

Nomusa observed that these people did not sleep on mats, but on dried skins of animals, or on leaves. The hut was empty, except for a few gourds. How different were the Zulu huts, thought Nomusa. Since her people stayed a long time in one place, it did not matter how many things they collected and kept in their huts. To people like the Pygmies, who moved often, it was important not to have many things to carry.

When Nomusa came out of the hut, she found Sikhulumi talking to a Pygmy who knew something of the Zulu language. He was asking Sikhulumi if he had any salt.

Sikhulumi shook his head regretfully. “If we come next year, we will surely bring some,” he promised.

The Pygmy seemed delighted with Nomusa. He asked her, “Are you married?”

[Illustration: [Family]]

Nomusa giggled. “No, I am only ten years old.”

The man looked surprised. He came close to Nomusa and measured himself against her. He was only a tiny bit taller than she was. As he stood there Nomusa looked with interest at a necklace he wore. As she looked, she realized what it was. Now she knew why the Pygmies saved the elephant’s eyelashes.

The Pygmy saw her interest in the elephant-hair necklace and quickly took it off and offered it to her. “Bring good luck,” he said.

Nomusa looked at Sikhulumi.

“Take it,” he advised. “You will have something very unusual to show your brothers and sisters.”

Sikhulumi turned to the Pygmy. “How do your people kill elephants?”

“Come,” said the little man. “I will show you.”

The Pygmy brought out bows and arrows as well as slender spears so small that Nomusa thought little Themba would have been able to use them.

Nomusa saw that the tiny arrows were made of straight twigs of hardwood cut from a bush. The ends of the arrows were slit and a green leaf was stuck in each, instead of a feather such as the Zulus used.

The man pointed to the tips of the arrows and spears, saying, “Poison!”

“Where do you get the poison?” Nomusa asked.

The Pygmy explained. His people searched for poisonous herbs as well as for poisonous barks of trees. They also got poison from a certain black ant whose bite was terribly painful.

With many gestures, the Pygmy explained how they climbed trees under which they expected elephants to pass on their way to feeding grounds. The men in the trees threw down their poisoned spears on the passing elephants, while Pygmies on the ground shot poisoned arrows at the animals.

If the elephant did not die at once, the Pygmies knew that some of the poison would finally work inside the animal’s body and kill him. They would follow him until he dropped. Usually, he assured them, they did not have long to wait.

Nomusa was still full of curiosity. “Do the boys take care of the cattle as my brothers do?”

The Pygmy looked surprised. “We have no cattle,” he said. “We live by hunting.”

“How long have you been living here?”

“Two moons. Soon we leave. More fruit, berries, tortoises, and monkeys in new place.”

Nomusa suddenly remembered Dube. “You like monkeys?” she asked hopefully.

“Ay, very good to eat!”

It was time to go. Many of the small people came to look at the visitors curiously. Nomusa noticed that, like the men, the women wore no ornaments, beads, or bracelets.

Nomusa had a final question for the Pygmy. “How many wives do Pygmy men have?”

He looked shocked, then amused. “How many? One, of course.”

Now Nomusa really felt sorry for these people. She realized how very poor the Pygmies were, for among the Zulus it was only a poor man who had but one wife.

Their guide was ready to take them back to their camp. The Pygmies waved a friendly farewell to their visitors. One woman gave Nomusa a present—a huge dried beetle, the largest Nomusa had ever seen.

With no load to carry, the Pygmy guide sped through the forest so quickly that Nomusa and Sikhulumi had to run to keep up with him. He no longer bothered to look back to see if they were following. Perhaps he thought that anyone who had been over the ground once would surely know it again.

It was close to sundown, and when the long purple shadows of the trees fell across the ground, it became increasingly difficult to see the Pygmy.

At last what they feared had happened. Sikhulumi stopped, completely confused. Nomusa needed no word from him to tell her they were lost. The Pygmy was nowhere to be seen, and they did not know which path to take. Sihkulumi looked very anxious. Then they heard a whistle.

“It is he!” cried Nomusa. “But where?”

Where, indeed? Sihkulumi looked all about him. Then the whistle sounded again, and Sihkulumi’s dark face broke into a grin. He raised his eyes to the high branches of a tree. There was the Pygmy, his small body barely discernible among the green leaves.

Down he scampered, agile as a monkey. In his hand was a big piece of honeycomb, some of which he gave to Nomusa and Sihkulumi. They walked along more slowly now, and together, eating the delicious honey. But Nomusa kept a watchful eye on the Pygmy. Perhaps he might decide to play another joke on them.

But they soon reached the others, without any difficulty. The Pygmies were still smoking elephant meat, but the Zulu hunters had finished their work. They squatted about the huge fire, resting and eating. Nomusa and Sihkulumi were glad to dip their fingers into the food pot, too.

As they ate and rested, Zitu spoke.

“We can be thankful that we have had a safe and successful hunt. Tomorrow at sunrise we set out for our kraals. Let everyone remember to take care along the way so that we shall have no mishap.”

Growing drowsy by the fire, Nomusa thought of all the wonderful stories she had to tell Themba. And Mdingi would be sure to make good songs about many of the things Nomusa would tell him. Yo! She was every bit as eager to get home as she had been to leave!

Everyone was getting ready to sleep, and a sentinel had been appointed. Nomusa looked over at the Pygmies to see what they were doing. The night had grown chilly, and the little men were beating their bodies with their hands and huddling close to the fire. Nomusa saw some Pygmies crawl inside the elephant. She expected them to come right out again. But they did not, and after a bit Nomusa went over to see why they stayed so long.

Inside the elephant the Pygmies lay, one next to the other, fast asleep.

[Illustration: [Huts]]

SEVENTEEN: The Leopard in the Pit

On the homeward trip Nomusa kept watching for interesting birds and animals. She could never have too many stories to tell Themba and Umpondo and the other little brothers and sisters.

When they were about a day’s journey from the kraals, the party rested on a flat-topped hill. Looking down on the valley, Nomusa beheld a wonderful sight. A number of lions, lionesses, and cubs lay among the tall grasses. The older animals seemed to be drowsing in the sun, but the cubs refused to stay quiet. Like kittens they played together, tumbling about, nipping each other’s ears and tails.

How gentle they looked, Nomusa thought, even harmless. But she was glad to know they were far below her and the other hunters.

A small antelope appeared, a short distance away, the lions ignored it; this was not the time for hunting. But the lionesses growled, and their tails began to switch. The cubs looked at the antelope, and back at their mothers. The lionesses rushed forward with low growls, encouraging their frolicking cubs to come along.

“Look!” said Damasi, who sat watching beside Nomusa. “I think the lionesses are going to use the little antelope to teach the cubs how to hunt!”

A lioness kept the antelope at bay, while the cubs worried it. Sometimes the mother let the antelope run away, in order to see if the cubs could catch it by themselves. When they could not, she ran it down herself and pinned it to the ground; then she left the animal to the cubs.

One cub did not know what to do and ran wildly about the antelope, nipping its tail playfully. The mother rushed at her cub and smacked him with her paw as if to tell him to behave like a lion and not like a baby.

[Illustration: [Lions]]

Nomusa would like to have watched more, but again the Zulus were on the march. They were in a hurry to get home, and they rested only briefly.

In the distance they could see the rolling hills on which the kraals were situated. Nomusa was glad that this was so, for she was very tired. How good it would be to lie on her mat and sleep and sleep!

She was not keeping up with the others very well, but no one seemed to pay any attention. Ahead of her she could see Damasi walking with Zabala. They were having a good time laughing and talking together, and Nomusa thought crossly that Damasi seemed to have forgotten she was with them. He did not even look back to see where she was.

As she moved wearily along, Nomusa kept on thinking of the joy of returning. How glad she would be to see her mother and the baby sister! How she would hug her chubby little brother! And Mdingi and funny Kangata—

Nomusa’s busy thoughts made her forget her weariness, but they made her less cautious, too. If she had been intent on where she was walking, she would have been suspicious of the place in the trail where some branches had fallen and the grasses were oddly disturbed. She would have gone around it as the others had.

But Nomusa’s thoughts were far away, and the next thing she knew she lay at the bottom of a pit, on top of the body of a small leopard. It was dead, with an arrow in its neck. Her first feeling was that she was thankful the leopard was dead. But soon she realized that she could not get out of the pit without help. In a frenzy she began shouting for someone to come and help her. How long must she stay here? Would she ever get out? The hunters might even reach the kraals before they knew she was missing.

Nomusa was brave, but it was dark and hot in the pit, and she was very tired. The minutes crawled by, and she began to feel less and less a fearless hunter and more and more a frightened ten-year-old girl.

Maybe she would never see her mother and her brothers and sisters again. Maybe they would never find her and never know what had happened to her. Tears welled up in Nomusa’s eyes in spite of herself. Again she called, this time somewhat feebly. Thirst consumed her, and her body felt unbearably hot and sticky. Why, oh why, had she ever wanted to be a hunter? If only she had stayed at home this would never have happened to her.

She tried several times to make toeholds in the sheer sides of the pit, but the soft earth crumbled away. By now she didn’t even know what time of day it was. It seemed ages since she had fallen into the pit. She shuddered fearfully at the thought of being there all night. A live animal might fall in, too; Nomusa’s vivid imagination pictured all sorts of dreadful encounters with snarling, clawing lions and leopards.

Again she called out in desperation. And, miracle of miracles! she heard an answering cry. She was sure it was Damasi’s voice. “Nomusa! Where are you?”

“Here!” she shrieked. “In the pit! Be careful!”

The leaves and branches were parted, and there was Damasi looking down at her. Zabala was beside him.

“Yo! What a scare you gave us!” Zabala cried.

“Are you all right?” Damasi asked anxiously.

“Yes,” said Nomusa, weakly. “But how frightened I have been!” she confessed.

“Who would not have been frightened?” Damasi answered, looking awesomely at the pit.

“How shall we get her out?” asked Zabala, practically.

Damasi considered. For once, Nomusa had no ideas. She was content to wait to be rescued.

“We must get strong vines and weave them together,” Damasi decided. “Then Nomusa can attach them to herself and we can pull her out.

“You will need more than one,” Nomusa said. “I have something here that I must bring up.”

“What is that?” Zabala inquired.

“You shall see,” Nomusa said mysteriously.

[Illustration: [Children]]

Before long Damasi threw down two lengths of woven vines. Nomusa tested them and found them strong. One she bound securely about the leopard; the other she knotted under her arms. “Ready!” she called.

Zabala and Damasi braced themselves firmly and pulled with all their might. Nomusa held on tightly and dug her toes into the sides of the pit. Right now she wished they were long like the Pygmy’s!

At last she was over the top of the pit and lay on the ground breathing hard. Damasi and Zabala looked at her with concern, touching her to be sure she was all right.

“Now the other,” Nomusa said, finally, still panting.