Men of Men - Smith Wilbur (книги бесплатно без txt) 📗

"Fine tusks!" he admitted. "Like the ones the hunters took when I was still a child."

Ralph did not tell him that most of those in the wagon were taken even before that time. He had discovered all but two of the caches that his father had bequeathed to him.

The ivory had dried out, lost almost a quarter of its green weight; but most of it was still in good condition, and would fetch the market price once he got it to the railhead.

Though Ralph had hunted diligently for his own elephant whilst he sought out Zouga's ancient dumps, he had had little success. He had killed five, only one of which was a bull and whose green tusks had weighed just over sixty pounds. The others had been small female barely worth taking.

ivory The great herds that Zouga had described in A Hunter's Odyssey no longer existed. Since those days there had been many hunters, some of them inspired by Zouga's own writing. Boer and Briton, Hottentot and German, they had hunted and harried the huge grey beasts and left their white bones piled on the veld and in the forest.

"Yes, they are good tusks," Ralph nodded. "And my wagon is heavy laden now. I am on the road back to the king's kraal to ask him for permission to leave Matabeleland and go back to Kimberley."

"Then when you have gone, we will see you no more," Bazo said quietly. "You will be like the other white men who come to Matabeleland. You will take what you want, and never come back."

Ralph laughed. "No, old friend, I will be back. I do not have everything I wish, not yet. I will come back with more wagons, perhaps six wagons, all loaded with trade goods. I will set up trading posts from the Shashi river to the Zambezi., "You will be a rich man, Henshaw. I am sure of it," Bazo agreed. "But rich men are not always happy men.

This I have remarked often. Is there nothing else in Matabeleland for you but ivory and gold and diamonds?"

Ralph's expression changed. "How did you know that?"

he demanded.

"I asked, I did not know," Bazo denied, still smiling.

Though I do not have to throw the bones or look in the magic calabash to know it is a woman, you have suddenly the look of a dog that smells the bitch. Tell me, Henshaw, who is she and when will you take her to wife?" Then he laughed aloud. "You have not yet asked her father? Or you have asked and he has refused?"

"It is not a matter for laughter," Ralph said stiffly, and with an effort Bazo wiped the mirth from his face, though it twinkled still in his eyes.

"Forgive one who loves you as a brother, I did not know it was such a heavy matter." And at last he managed to match Ralph's portentous expression, while he waited for him to speak again.

"Once, long ago, while we rode up in the skip, you spoke of a woman with hair as white and fine as the winter grass," Ralph said at last, and Bazo nodded.

"It is she, Bazo. I have found her."

"She wants you as much as you want her?" Bazo said firmly. "If she does not, then she is so stupid that she does not deserve you."

"i haven't asked her yet," Ralph admitted.

"Do not ask her, tell her, and then ask her father. Show the father your tusks of ivory; that will settle the matter."

"You are right, Bazo," Ralph looked dubious. "It will be that simple." And then softly in English, so that Bazo could not understand. "God knows what I shall do if it is not. I don't think I can live without her."

If he did not follow the words, Bazo understood the sense and the mood. He sighed, and his eyes strayed to Tanase at the cooking fire.

"They are so soft and weak, but they wound more deeply than the sharpest steel."

Ralph followed his eyes, and then suddenly his own expression cleared and it was his turn to guffaw and reach across to slap Bazo's shoulder.

"Now I recognize the look you spoke of earlier, the dog with the smell of the bitch in his nostrils."

"It is not a matter for laughter," said Bazo, haughtily, Long after the last gnawed buffalo bone was thrown upon the fire and the last beer pot emptied; long after the Matabele warriors had tired of singing the song of Pemba, the ode to their own prowess and courage on the hill of the wizard, and rolled into their sleeping karosses; long after the last captive girl had ceased wailing, Bazo and Ralph sat on beside their own fire, and the drone of their voices and the munch of the oxen chewing the cud were the only sounds in the camp.

It was as though every last moment was precious to them for both sensed that when they met again they would be changed, and perhaps the world with them.

They relived their youth, remembering Scipio, the falcon, and Inkosikazi, the great spider; they smiled at the stinging mewary of the fighting sticks, and Bakela's wrath when Bazo gave him the shattered diamond; they talked of Jordan and Jan Cheroot and Kamuza and all the others, until at last reluctantly Bazo rose.

"I will be gone before the sun, Henshaw," he said.

"Go in peace, Bazo, and enjoy the honours that await you and the woman you have won."

When Bazo reached his sleeping-mat, the girl was already wrapped in his kaross.

As soon as Bazo lay down beside her, she reached for him. She was as hot as though she was in high fever her body burning and her skin dry. Silent sobs racked her and her grip was fierce.

"What is it, Tanase?" He was shocked and alarmed.

"A vision. A terrible vision."

"A dream." He was relieved. "It was only a dream., "It was a vision," she denied. "Oh, Bazo, will you not take this terrible gift from me, before it destroys us both."

He held her and could not answer her; her distress moved him deeply, but he was helpless to alleviate it.

After a while she was quiet, and he thought that she slept, but then she suddenly whispered.

"It was a terrible vision, Bazo Lord, and it will haunt me unto my grave., He did not answer, but he felt the superstitious chill in his guts.

"I saw you high upon a tree-" She broke off, and another single sob hit her like a blow. "The white man, the one you call Henshaw, the Hawk, do not trust him."

"He is as my brother, and like a brother I love him., "Then why did he not weep, Bazo, why did he not weep when he looked up at you upon the tree?"

Salina Codrington rolled out her pastry with long and expert strokes of the pin. The sleeves of her blouse were rolled high and she was floury to the elbows. Little blobs of pastry stuck to her hands and fingers.

The thatched ceiling of the kitchen at Khami Mission Station was sooty from the open iron stove, and the smell of the dough was yeasty and warm.

A single skein of white-gold hair had escaped the ribbon and now tickled her nose and chin. Salina pursed her lips and blew it away; it floated like gossamer and then gently settled across her face again, but she did not change the rhythm of the rolling-pin.

Ralph thought that little gesture the most poignant he had ever witnessed, but then everything she did fascinated him, even the way she cocked her head and smiled at him as he slouched against the jamb of the kitchen door.

Her smile was so gentle, so unaffected, that his chest squeezed again, and his voice sounded choked in his own ears.

"I am leaving tomorrow."

"Yes," Salina nodded. "We shall all miss you dreadfully."

"This is the first chance I have had to speak to you alone, without the monsters "Oh Ralph, that's an unkind, if totally accurate, description of my darling sisters." Her laughter had a surprising timbre and depth to it. "If you wanted to speak to me, you should have asked."