09 Lion Adventure (16 page)

It was all too plain. Black Mane was mourning the loss of his mate and his cub. Lions are not like some animals which care little about family life. It is lion nature to take one mate and one alone and be true to her to death and beyond. And unlike some animal fathers, the male lion cares deeply for his cubs.

It was impossible not to feel sorry for Black Mane. The boys felt they were to blame for his unhappiness. They had killed his mate and taken his cub.

And it seemed unsportsmanlike to shoot a lying-down lion. You wouldn’t shoot your worst enemy unless he was on his feet and attacking you. Besides, the boys were not trained as killers. From earliest childhood they had been taught to take animals alive. They had been with animals so much that they had come to share their feelings. The great sorrowful eyes of Black Mane looked straight into their hearts.

But they could not forget that he was a man-eater. He was guilty of the death of many men. And the boys had taken on the job of ridding the Tsavo region of man-eaters. It wasn’t fair to the men to let this animal go free, and yet how could you murder this magnificent beast in cold blood?

Roger lowered his gun. ‘Let’s not do it,’ he said.

‘We’ve got to,’ said his brother.

‘No we don’t.’

‘What else can we do?’

‘Take him alive,’ proposed Roger.

Hal lowered his gun, glad of anything that would delay the moment of murder.

‘I suppose you know what you’re saying,’ Hal said. ‘We don’t have our men to help us. How could we take him alive?’

‘I don’t know,’ Roger admitted. ‘But there must be some way.’

Still arguing, they found themselves walking back to the tent. They had missed their great opportunity to kill a savage man-eater.

‘Why do you suppose he didn’t jump us?’ asked Roger.

‘His mind was occupied with something else - loss of his mate and cub.’

‘Poor son of a gun,’ Roger said. ‘I never would have thought lions could be that sentimental.’

‘They’re very affectionate animals,’ Hal explained.

‘Not only with their family, but with other lions too. One day in a pride of fourteen lions I saw a big male go around and rub his head affectionately against every one of the fourteen. You’d never see a leopard doing that -he thinks only of himself. A tiger likes to live alone. But a lion wants other lions around him. And he’ll help any one that needs help. The warden at Kitani told me about a young lioness that fed an old one. That doesn’t happen often in nature. It’s customary for the old to take care of the young, not for the young to take care of the old. This young lioness kept making raids on the chickens back of Mac’s Inn at Mtito Andei. The innkeeper saw the old lion eating a chicken and blamed it for the raids and shot it. He shot the wrong animal. The warden discovered that it was the young one who had been stealing the chickens to feed her old friend who was unable to hunt for herself. And it’s very common for an old male and a young one to team up together. The old one gives advice and the young one does the actual killing. It’s a way of combining the experience of age and the strength of youth.’ ‘What’s an old lion, anyway? How long do they live?’ ‘About twenty years. But some do much better than that. A lion that was kept as a pet in the Tower of London during the eighteenth century lived seventy years. Of course he was protected. Out in the wilds a lion too old to defend itself is generally destroyed by hyenas.’

A slight sound made Hal swing around and raise his flashlight. ‘Black Mane is following us. I still think it’s our duty to shoot that beast. We can’t take him alive.

Don’t expect me to be a party to any such crazy scheme.’

‘Very well,’ said Roger stubbornly. ‘I’ll do it alone.’

‘Alone! I thought you were out of your head. Now I’m sure of it.’

They entered the tent. Flop was miaowing for another feeding. Roger put a bowl of the prepared milk on the ground and helped the cub hold the bamboo tube. Hal directed his spotlight upon the operation.

So they did not notice when Black Mane put his head in between the still open flaps and saw what was going on.

For a long minute he stood and looked. Then he growled deeply, pushed his way into the tent, took his cub by the nape of the neck and made off with it towards the woods.

‘Well, that’s that,’ Hal said. ‘I hope you’re satisfied. Now you’ve lost both your lion and your cub.’

But Roger refused to be discouraged. He looked at the bowl of milk on the ground. ‘I have a hunch they’ll be back.’

‘Nonsense. Black Mane got what he wanted - his cub. Why should he come back?’

‘In two or three hours that cub will start miaowing. He’s too young to eat meat. He has to have milk. How do you suppose his father’s going to give it to him?’

Hal slept again. Roger lay awake, listening.

The sounds of the African night always fascinated him. He had come to know the calls of many of the animals. This night, all the beasts seemed to be on the prowl.

He could hear the crank-crank of the warthog, the deep ho-ho of the hippo at the nearest water-hole, the gravelly growl of a leopard in the woods, the yip-yip of jackals, the poor imitation of a lion’s roar produced by the hyena.

Hal had tied the tent flaps to keep out unwelcome visitors. Roger slipped out of bed and untied them. This was strictly against camp rules.

There is nothing to prevent animals from wandering around your tent in an African camp. No camp is fenced in. A village may be fenced to keep animals out of the gardens. But a camp of hunters or railway workers has no gardens. A safari camp may be used for only one night or at most for a few weeks and so is not worth the trouble of fencing. But you are supposed to keep your tent tightly closed. Then rhinos, elephants, lions, and all other night visitors will probably walk by without giving you a call.

Roger knew very well that it was risky to leave the tent flaps open. But he had taken his revolver and a flashlight to bed with him and had no intention of going to sleep.

During the first hour he was left in peace. Halfway through the second, he became aware of the sound of heavy breathing. Then something brushed across him. He put out his hand and grasped something round and slithering - it must be a great snake.

He reached for his flashlight and turned it on. The ‘great snake’ was an elephant’s trunk, exploring the inside of the tent in search of food.

Roger played the light straight into the elephant’s eyes and the surprised beast backed out with low rumblings of disappointment and annoyance.

In the third hour Roger had to frighten away an inquisitive hyena and an impertinent baboon. He was almost ready to give up when he heard a soft miaow. His flashlight revealed the twisting little body of Flop dangling from the jaws of the monster of the black mane.

Roger directed his spotlight upon the bowl of milk. Black Mane dropped the cub which flopped its way directly to the bowl and tried to drink. Roger reached down and helped it to hold the bamboo tube and the cub sucked greedily. Black Mane stood by, watching warily, ready to snatch up his cub and make off at the first sign of trouble. ‘What’s going on?’ came from the other bed. ‘Pipe down,’ whispered Roger. Hal opened sleepy eyes. If what he saw amazed him he made no sign. He took in the situation at a glance and remained quiet. Black Mane gradually relaxed. Finally he lay down and began to growl - but it was not exactly a growl. It sounded like a purr coming out of a cave.

Hal had to admit that his young brother had done pretty well. For the moment at least, he had subdued the King of Beasts. But what could he do now? How was he going to take Black Mane alive? This was a test of the boy’s manhood. Hal decided he would not interfere in any way - he would let his brother work it out for himself.

‘Hold the tube,’ Roger whispered. ‘I’m going out.’

Hal reached out and took the tube. The cub continued to drink. Roger very cautiously slipped out of bed. Black Mane half rose and this time his purr was a growl. He settled down again as Roger quietly left the tent.

Pale dawn was lighting the sky. The animals that felt free to visit the camp during the night had retreated to the forest. Roger ran to the station. The door to the waiting-room was never locked. He went in and found the place empty.

On the wall was an old-fashioned telephone. It was the only telephone near by - but twenty miles away there was another at the headquarters of the warden, Mark Crosby. Roger waited impatiently until Crosby got on the line.

‘This is urgent,’ he told Crosby. ‘Slap a lion cage on a Power-wagon and rush it up here. The cage has to be plenty large - he’s a whopping big lion.’

‘Right,’ said Crosby. ‘Do you want me to send any of your men?’

‘That won’t be necessary. But hurry - he’s apt to walk out on me any minute.’

He ran back to the tent, entered cautiously, and slipped into bed. Hal looked at him inquiringly.

‘Cage coming,’ Roger said.

Hal smiled. So far, so good. But how would the youngster get the lion to go into the cage? Had he thought of that?

The cub had finished his breakfast and was pawing the last drops of milk from his soft little whiskers. Roger snapped on the leash that held him to the bed - just in case he might take a notion to wander out and take his father with him.

The big lion was getting restless. He might try to carry away his cub before the car arrived. It was an anxious half hour before the Power-wagon rolled into the camp.

The sound did not disturb Black Mane since lions are not at all worried by cars.

Roger went out. The African driver already had the cage door up and the ramp in place at the tail-gate. Roger re-entered the tent, untied the leash from the bed, and led the waddling little cub out of the tent and up the ramp and into the cage. He went all the way to the back of the cage and tied the leash to one of the bars.

He came out to find Black Mane already coming up the ramp.

The lion paused at the door of the cage. This was something new to him. But he had been in tents, and this didn’t look as dangerous as a tent. You couldn’t see out when you were m a tent. Here you could see between the bars in all directions.

Besides, his cub was calling for him, Flop was trying to come to him, pulling at his leash. Black Mane joined him and the youngster expressed his pleasure by standing on his hind legs and biting his father’s ears and nose.

Roger loosened the trip-line and the cage door slipped down into place.

Hal had come out of the tent with his rifle, expecting that he might have to use it to save his brother’s life. The foolish boy carried no weapon - no rifle, no revolver, not even a knife. He was armed with nothing except the fact that he had fed Black Mane’s cub, and Black Mane had seen him do it. Thanks to this understanding between boy and beast, and thanks to the lion’s desire to be with his cub, a deadly man-eater had been conquered without the firing of a shot.

Men coming out of the tents could hardly believe what they saw - the monster of the black mane behind bars. It couldn’t be true - yet there it was. There was no sign of a fight. Both boys were alive and without a scratch. In the African mind there was only one answer. It must have been done by magic.

The men broke into cheers. The lion began to look around nervously with a deep growl. Hal motioned the men to be silent, and Roger, standing beside the cage, spoke soothingly to Black Mane and Flop. Then he told the driver to drive - slowly - to Crosby’s camp.

He continued to stand beside the cage speaking in quiet tones to his two friends. Animals along the way, seeing the gigantic lion, made off into the forest.

A ranger at Kitani Safari Lodge saw the car coming and ran in to call the warden. Crosby was out and waiting when the Power-wagon with its strange load came to a halt.

‘I’ve brought you a couple of guests,’ Roger said.

Crosby stared. In his long experience he had seen some remarkable sights but nothing quite like this.

‘How did you do it?’

‘I didn’t do it,’ Roger said. ‘The cub did it.’ And he told how it had all come about. Then he said, ‘Can you take care of these beasties until we can ship them out to some zoo?’

‘Of course. Leave them here as long as you like. We’ll keep them in the same cage, and they’ll have royal treatment, you may be sure.’

‘Could you give me a lift back to the station?’

In a Land-Rover Roger returned to the railway camp. He slipped through the crowd of men who flocked out to congratulate him, got into his own tent and relaxed on the bed.

Now that it was all over - the sleepless night, the anxiety, the strain - he felt as if he would come apart.

His nerves were jumping and his face was hot. Hal felt his pulse. It was rattling along like a machine gun.

The men who had decided that Roger was a white witch doctor should see him now. He was no magician, but just a boy who had used his head and was very” tired. He needed aspirin and sleep and he got both.

Morning came, and with it King Ku.

The boys were up and dressed and had opened the flaps to let in the bright African sunshine. A shadow blocked the light and they looked up from their coffee to see a big black face.

It was Ku’s face, yet it was a face they had not seen before. This was a smiling face. It was the first time they had ever seen the district officer smile.

‘May I come in?’

‘Do.’ Hal said. ‘Sit down. Have some coffee.’

‘I don’t deserve such courtesy,’ said the smiling Ku, seating himself on the edge of Hal’s cot. ‘I came to congratulate you on your success in taking the man-eaters.’

Hal looked at him with astonishment. ‘I had a crazy notion that you didn’t want us to succeed.’

‘You were right,’ Ku admitted. ‘Frankly, I hoped you would have a bad accident.’

‘We nearly did,’ Hal said. ‘When somebody cut us adrift.’

‘Who do you think could have done that?’

‘We don’t know. We think it may have been Dugan. Or Basa.’

Ku’s grin broadened. ‘You are wrong on both counts. I cut your line.’