Lost in the Jungle; Narrated for Young People

by Paul B. Du Chaillu

At sunset silence reigned in the village. All the women had gone into their huts, while the men seated themselves on the ground or on their little stools. But suddenly a great wailing rent the air, and from every hut came lamentations—sounds that were heart-rending. Then they sang songs, praising the departed one—songs such as I have described to you young folks in "Stories of the Gorilla Country."

At last, after two days, six stout men, covered with fetiches and painted in the most fantastic manner, came to take the body, to leave it in the woods under some big tree.

As soon as they were ready the tam-tams began to beat, and songs of sorrow were chanted as they disappeared from the village. I followed the body, for I wished to see what they would do. After a while we got into the jungle, and soon came to a spot where the body was left. A fire was lighted by its side, no doubt with the idea of keeping him warm; then some boiled plantains, and a piece of cooked elephant and some smoked fish, were put in a dish of wicker-work and placed at his head. All the while the men kept muttering words I did not understand.

The day after the funeral, toward sunset, while I was looking for birds in the forest, trying to obtain some new specimens which I might never have seen before, I fell in with the brother of the deceased, and saw that he was carrying something carefully packed—something which I could not make out. I asked him what it was. At first he replied, "Nothing." Then I said, "You must tell me." Thinking that I was getting angry, he then answered, "Moguizi, I will tell you what it is. It is the head of my brother who was buried yesterday, and I have just been to get it." "The head of your brother!" I exclaimed; "and why have you cut off the head of your brother?" "Because," he answered, in a low whisper, "my brother was a great hunter, a mighty warrior, and I want to put his head in the house of the Alumbi. Moguizi, do not tell any one that you have seen me with this head, for we never tell any one when we do this thing, though we all do it. After we have been in the village I will show you the house of the Alumbi."

So I let him go back to his village, and I went hunting for my birds.

As I was returning to my home in the village, I stopped on the bank of the little stream, and there I perceived a very large snake enjoying a bath. As the water was quite clear, I could see him perfectly. I thought I would watch his movements rather than kill him.

The back of this snake was black, and his belly striped yellow and black. It was of a very venomous kind, and one most dreaded by the natives. I could not help a cold shudder running through me as I looked at the reptile. By-and-by it came out of the water and remained still for a little while. Then I saw a beautiful Guinea-fowl coming toward the stream to drink. How beautiful the bird looked! I have before described it in "Stories of the Gorilla Country." He came toward the water, and just as it stood on the brink of the little stream, ready to drink, I saw the huge snake crawling silently toward the bird. It crawled so gently that I could not even hear the noise its body made as it glided over the dead leaves that had fallen from the trees. It came nearer and nearer, and it certainly did not make the noise that it does when not in search of prey.

The poor Guinea-fowl, in the mean time, was unaware of the approach of its enemy, and how greatly its life was in danger. So it lowered its neck and dipped its bill into the water; once, twice, and the snake was getting nearer and nearer; thrice, and the snake was close at hand; and now the snake began to coil itself for a spring. Then the bird took one drink more, and just as it turned its head back its eyes met those of the snake, which stood glaring at the bird. The poor Guinea-fowl stood still, moving not a step, and it was not more than half a yard from the snake, when suddenly the monster sprang with a dart on the poor bird, and before I had time to wink, part of its shiny black body was round the fowl.

How pitiful were the cries of the poor Guinea-fowl! Quick, quick, quick, and all was over. The snake's mouth distended, for he had begun to swallow the bird by the head. Just then I fired in such a way as not to hit the snake, and in his fright he disgorged the bird and left him and the field, crawling out of the way as quick as possible. This time I could hear the noise of the leaves. Indeed, it went off very fast, and I was just on the point of losing sight of it, when I managed to send a load of shot into its body, breaking the spine, as it was about half way across the stream. Then I took a look at the dead Guinea-fowl. Toward the neck the feathers were very slimy from the snake-froth. The snake was now twisting about in all directions, but could neither advance nor retreat, for you know that, its spine being cut, it could not swim, and therefore soon died.

I picked up my Guinea-fowl, cut off the head of the snake, made a parcel of its body, and took the trophies of my day's sport into the village, where I gave a treat to some of my friends.