Settlers and Scouts: A Tale of the African HighlandsStrang, Herbert
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Settlers and Scouts: A Tale of the African Highlands
Strang, Herbert
Africa, East -- Juvenile fiction
"A rhinoceros charged us as we were crossing the foot of the kopje
yonder. He sprang out from behind a small mountain of an ant-hill. My
men instantly flung down their loads and bolted--idiots! and as we’re
rather short of meat I thought I’d try to get within shot of the beast.
I was following him up when the earth gave way under me, and I found
myself in this old game-pit, and don’t know how I managed to escape the
skewer sticking up at the bottom, as long as my arm. I say, you haven’t
happened to see anything of my brother, I suppose?"
"We met nobody but your men," said Mr. Halliday. "Has your brother lost
himself?"
"Old Joe lost! Not a bit of it," cried the young man. "He’ll turn up
all right. He left me a couple of hours ago to shoot something for
to-night’s pot, and I thought you might have come across him. I’m
rather a nuisance, I’m afraid; I can’t put my left foot to the ground,
and our last donkey died four days ago, so that I can’t ride. We’ve had
uncommon bad luck with our donkeys. As a rule they’re hardy in this
climate, we were told; but every one of the six we started with has
died. Really, I am a nuisance, keeping you here."
"Nonsense," said Mr. Halliday. "Coja, shout for some of our men."
"No come, master," said Coja. "Berry much ’fraid."
"If he goes and calls our headman a coward I think it will answer," said
the stranger. "Headmen are very jealous of each other."
Coja entered into the spirit of the suggestion, and ran back over the
tracks. In a few minutes the sounds of angry altercation came through
the bush, and Coja reappeared, in company with a white-clad Somali, each
man abusing the other at the top of his voice. Mr. Halliday silenced
them sternly, and ordered them to construct a litter, promising a few
cents to the man who did the larger share of the work. They set to work
at once, weaving strands of creeping plants and stalks of grass with
amazing rapidity. In less than twenty minutes a sheet of matting was
finished and firmly bound to two rifles, and on this extemporized litter
the stranger was carried between the headmen back to the open ground.
On the way he explained that his name was Oliver Browne, "commonly
called Poll," and that he came from Cape Colony. With his elder brother
he had been shooting and prospecting in North Kenya and Gallaland, and
they had thoughts of settling in British East Africa, which seemed to
offer better prospects than they could see in South Africa.
"I suppose you’re on the same job," he concluded.
"Well, we’re going to have a look round," replied Mr. Halliday
cautiously. "We’re on a flying visit, you see."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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