Evening star. [volume], July 27, 1941, Page 16, Image 89

About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
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Continued from page seven
the Okapi had stepped with his fore
feet on the flimsy masking of a pit
and jumped back quickly enough to
save himself. Sometimes, after that,
they found his tracks completely
circling a pit—intentionally, it seemed
to Steve, to taunt him.
Steve was beginning to see red.
Then he got the idea of the wire nooses.
He would have to make a trip to the
nearest government post to get the
wire, a day's march to the road where
he kept his decrepit car, then a hun
dred kilometers to the post. But he was
pleased when he got there, for the
store had just the wire he needed,
strong and stout, yet pliable. While
he was buying it the Adminislrateur
Territorial came in for a
glass ot beer He was sim
mering with anger, and this
drew Steve toward him like
a magnet
“Wouldn’t you think,”
the A T said “that with
the war on — we would at
least not be persecuted with
animal collectors?”
Steve clucked sympathet
ically
"Wouldn't you think the
Gourerneur General would
use his head sometimes? He
knows there s not an Okapi
in my whole 'erntorv And
what does he do? He sends
this fellow just to me'”
Steve pricked up his ears.
“What fellow?”
“An Englishman from
South Africa — named Bul
lard He s got a commission
tor an Okapi skin from some
nch American. If they’d
send him into the Epulu
territory, he could find as
many as he wants. But you
know there hasn’t been one
around here for years."
“There’s one." said Steve,
and told him about the big
Okapi.
The A. T. relaxed. “Let
him come up to your place
and get it, Steve.” he
urged.
i u get it myseu. sieve
boasted. “I'll have the hide cured by
the time he gets there."
“Stick him a good price for it,”
the A. T. recommended. “You ought
to get thirty thousand francs out of
him.”
Now, Steve, with the ninety-nine
per cent of his being, was improvi
dent and contemptuous of money.
But that one per cent of cupidity
suddenly grabbed the controls. All
the way back to the plantation, he
thought of those thirty thousand
francs — about a thousand dollars,
he reckoned. He could rid himself of
the threat to his nursery, even scores
with the Okapi, and get those things
that he needed to improve the plan
tation
He sharpened his plans. He'd plant
wire loops around every pit. Not even
the Okapi could break that strong
wire
“I'll make notches in the wire,”
he decided. “That way, once the noose
is pulled tight, a notch will catch and
keep it closed.”
There came to his nund something a
pygmy had told him: how Okapis
craved salt and could only get a crude
form of it by licking a certain mud
that exudes potassium.
"I’ll bait the trap with real salt.”
Steve chuckled. “That ought to letch
him!”
The Okapi moved wanly now in the
vicinity of the plantation. The white
man had trailed him. The black men
had hunted him. Fits and snares had
been devised to catch him. He could
have gone away, deep into the main
jungle where no one would follow
him. but he liked his habits, and he
felt no tear.
On the first morning that he found
the salt, he stopped short. His sensi
tive nostnls brought him the scent
of that which had the best of all
tastes, but stronger, more distinct
than it had ever smelt before. He
looked suspiciously around him.
Nothing unusual was there except the
salt.
His senses tingling, he advanced
slowly, put out a foreleg, tested the
ground around the salt. It was solid.
Cautiously he scraped toward him
the leaves on which the salt rested.
Nothing happened. Quickly his long
tongue shot out and lapped in the
delicious substance.
This prudent procedure he fol
lowed wherever he found salt. But
day after day passed. In the morning,
the salt was always there, on one of
his paths or another. Nothing overt
occurred when he ate it. He began to
relax his vigilance. Then one after
noon, when he had savored a few
stimulating grains and taken a slow
step forward — with no warning, in
explicably, his right hind leg was
jerked out from under him.
He fell heavily, dazed. For seconds
he lay immobile, his senses height
ened, his wits braced to cope with
whatever attack might come. Then
he slowly raised his head and looked
at his leg. He moved it tentatively.
It was not hurt; it was only impris
oned.
He bent his long giraffine neck
back until his muzzle touched the
wire, and his delicate nostrils found
on it the mingled scents of the white
man and the blacks.
Fury rose in him. He raised himself
on his forelegs, got a purchase with
his left hind leg, and kicked with all
his strength. A sharp pain cut his
ankle, a snapping sound wounded his
ears — but he was free.
Contemptuous of the burning pans,
he charged headlong into the vegeta
tion, wreaking his outraged anger
upon every bush and sapling, tough
liana, matted mass of vines and creep
ers that barred his path, battering,
slashing, crashing through every ob
stacle.
That night he came back to the
nursery. His blue eyes were glassy
with rage, his big ears pinned back
flat against his head. He did not 'eat
the seedlings this time. He trampled
the beds, savagely and thoroughly . .
Steve was still examining the total
wreck ol his seedbeds, when
a native boy brought him
the broken noose. “Snapped
in two, right at a notch,"
Steve grunted. "He's a
lighter, that one," he added
grudgingly.
Then he looked back at
his ruined nursery and his
anger flared alresh. In live
days now, Bullard, the Eng
lishman, was due. Steve
could wait no longer. He
would have to send for the
pygnues, who alone knew
how to hunt the Okapi.
But pygmies are as elu
sive as quicksilver. It was
actually not until the mo
ment Steve was welcoming
Bullard that he saw them
begin to drift, one by one,
inconspicuously, into the
clearing.
Bullard's visit, from its
very inception, was not a
success. He knew all the
answers to everything He
knew all about the pygmies
and their nets and their
hunting dogs. He knew all
there was to know about
Okapis. He even gave Steve
I a few pointers on how to
grow coffee. Steve hated
him immediately. He sug
gest ed. with a forced silky
J hospitality, that Bullard re
main comfortably at the
plantation the following morning
when the drive took place, but the
Englishman insisted on going along,
and at the first light ol dawn the next
morning they set out . . .
That day the Okapi browsed peace
fully Me knew that men were about,
for he had picked up their scent. But
they had not yet approached him. and
although he kept his senses alert, he
felt no urgency.
Sunlight filtered down through the
green dome above him. and lay in
dappled patterns on his rich red coat,
still damp from his morning's bath
The leaves he munched were tender
and juicy. A sense of well-being per
meated him, and he switched jauntily
his short, black-tasseled tail.
Presently the sound of diffused
movements reached him, and he
cocked an ear attentively. An instinct
warned him to get away from this
strange activity ol men, but he hesi
tated. This pasture was pleasant. He
was a match for any creature. He
tossed his head and stamped with a
stiff foreleg on the ground. Then he
reached for another clump of luscious
leaves.
From behind him, and still far
away, a new sound came — the Hat
clack-clack of the wooden bell that
the pygmy dog wears around his
neck to guide his master on the chase.
The Okapi froze. He knew that sound.
The little men who know the jungle,
who hunt ruthlessly with dogs, were
near. I
Instantly the Okapi knew that he
had tarried too long; knew, too, that
these were foes to test the utmost of
his cunning. He must make at once for
the main jungle, over the hidden pas
sage through the swamp.
Soundlessly he glided forward. He
moved now like a shadow, and cau
tiously, his senses tautened, each step
considered. He heard no further
sound, but the stench of the pygmies
was in his nose, coming, bewildenngly,
from many sides. Now here, now
there, as the fitful breeze varied its
course.
An hour passed. Two. He pro
(Continupd on page 18)
Irving Roir
"Why do you always catch such big ones
when you know there's only two of us?”
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