CHAPTER XXXII.
Timbo’s Return from the Lake; his Logic; he takes the Law in his own Hands.—Calf of Author’s Leg goes astray.—A troop of Elephants.—Author is charged by one of them, and narrowly escapes Death.—He shoots a white Rhinoceros.—He disables a black Rhinoceros.—He is charged and desperately bruised and wounded by the latter.—He saves the Life of his Attendant, Kamapyu.—Author again charged by the Rhinoceros, and escapes Destruction only by the opportune Death of his Antagonist.—Reflections.—He starts for the Ngami.
After about a week’s absence Timbo returned. I learned from him that, previously to his arrival at the Ngami, Lecholètébè, the chief, had not, contrary to my expectations, been made aware of my approach, and the sudden appearance of strangers, therefore, created no small degree of surprise and consternation both to him and his people, who fled precipitately with their flocks.
Many years before, when my friends, the Damaras, extended their migration to the neighborhood of the lake in question, the Bechuanas were in the habit of robbing them of their cattle. “How does it happen,” said Lecholètébè to Timbo, “that the Damaras are your servants? They are a mighty nation, rich in cattle, which I know well, because my father fought many a bloody battle with them. We invariably came off victorious, though often at the cost of numbers of our warriors, who were slain by the broad assegai of the Damaras. All is not right! Is your master richer than they?”
To this query Timbo logically replied, “No, my master no rich; master very poor; but master has something, and Damaras nothing; therefore master more rich than Damaras.”
Timbo then explained the way in which that tribe had been impoverished and nearly exterminated, as also the motives of our journey. On hearing all this, the apprehensions of the chief gradually subsided, and he became more communicative and friendly, urging Timbo to return to me without delay and hurry on my departure, being anxious, as he said, for my arrival; he moreover hinted that he would forthwith send men to meet and assist us in our progress. But here ended his courtesy; for subsequently he allowed our party, while at his town, all but to starve. It seems a characteristic of black chieftains to be avaricious.
Previously to reaching Lecholètébè’s residence it was necessary to cross the Zouga, his town having been removed to the north side of the river, from fear, as it is said, of Sekomo, another Bechuana chieftain. When Timbo and his party were on their return to me, the natives refused to ferry them over the river without payment. “Me have no money,” said Timbo; “but me soon make Caffres do it for nothing: me say, ‘So you will not row me across!’ And with that me lay hold of big stick, and me pitch into the rascals. Oh, master, such fun! me now get plenty of boats.” “But were you not afraid of resorting to such severe measures?” I inquired. “Me frightened!” he exclaimed; “no, me flog natives very well; it do them plenty good; the fellows too lazy to do work.”
I now resolved to lose no more time, but to push on at once to the Lake. My leg had in some degree recovered its strength, but, unobserved by me, it had received a somewhat ugly twist. Little George first drew my attention to the fact: “Sir,” said he, “your leg has grown crooked.”
“Crooked!” echoed I, somewhat angrily. “What do you mean?”