Chapter Twelve.
Incidents during our Residence on the Mountain.
The boys were continually asking Timbo and Igubo when they were going to catch them another pet. They were with me one day when the two men arrived loaded with the flesh of an animal which Stanley had shot. “What is that?” I asked.
“He bery good eat,” was the answer; “like a little horse.”
“But what is it called in England?” I inquired. “Him zebra,” he answered; “mark over back. We cooky for supper.”
“I wish Stanley had caught him alive,” said Leo. “Now, Timbo, cannot you manage to get a young one for us, or a couple, and then we could break them in, and make them carry us.”
“Him no carry no one,” answered Timbo. “He wild. Kick off, even dough you stick on like Chico.”
“But we could soon teach Chico to ride it. I suspect that it would puzzle even a zebra to kick him off.”
“We will try,” said Timbo. “We go and make many pitfalls; but take care, Massa Natty, you no tumble in when tiger or leopard dere.”
I found that the men had already dug some pitfalls, though hitherto, excepting a koodoo, nothing had been caught in them.