This story is Rated as T, probably about PG-14, if seen on TV. As with my other stories, all Rated as Mature, there are three couples as core characters. There are the Roxtons, (John and Marguerite, the Earl and Countess of Avebury), the Challengers (George and Finn, Jessie Challenger having died of flu in 1921), and the Malones (Ned and Veronica)
In this tale, they have been off of the Plateau for several years, although the Malones still live there. They have joined their friends on safari in Kenya. This is a sequel to several other stories taking place on safaris in 1928 and 1929. The others are in the Mature section of the TLW Fics or no longer on the Net, although I hope to restore two. Here, Marguerite has determined to hunt a leopard before she begins her homeward journey, and host Angus Hardy, father of the wife of one of their white hunters, has just the animal for her, which has been killing livestock on his farm. But Marguerite is going to discover that there is more than expected to killing this particular leopard, which may turn the tables on the hunters!
Chapter headings are in place, so you can read to a stopping place if you can't finish the Fic all at once. But I don't know how to post in the usual chapter format, so I'll just insert headings at suitable places as the story unfolds in what the board will show as one long chapter. (All of my Mature Fics were also posted as complete in one chapter. ) All characters were introduced in prior Fics, but I'll try to explain to new readers who they are. Racial or cultural terms and situations used are those of the times, and are employed here for authenticity. Swahili, Afrikaans, or other languages used employ actual words in those languages. Rights to certain characters belong to New Line Cinema, to the estate of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and others. All new characters are my own. It was also my idea for George and Finn to wed, but there isn't space here to explain the fairly complex reasons for it. See my other fics for that union and how it came to be. Finn cuts George's hair in camp, so he looks younger, more like First Season Challenger
This story is dedicated to the memory of Peter Hathaway Capstick: hunter, author, raconteur extrarodinaire, and chronicler of safari lore. He was as macabre and funny in person as he was in print. His books can often be found in libraries or obtained via Safari Press or Barnes & Noble stores in the USA. They also stock books by his widow, Fiona. If you want to experience the thrill of safari hunting in more modern times, Peter's volumes and videos are probably the best source. I miss him.
At the Edge of the Light
By
Gemini Explorer
Kenya Colony
British East Africa, 1929
Angus Hardy's Farm, Lionhaven
"In fact, there are several leopards here, Marguerite," said Angus Hardy, host of what had turned out to be a convivial dinner party at his estate, one of the largest in Kenya. He was responding to a question from Lady Roxton, Countess of Avebury, and a friend of some two years' standing. The Earl and Countess were among the hunting party who were his guests that warm evening soon after Lady Roxton and her friends had been rescued from the circumstances recounted here in the Mature Fics in, "The Night of the Lions". The Roxtons and their friends the Malones and the Challengers, would soon need to take ship for Britain, and wanted to get in a few more days of hunting before leaving for Nairobi and thence to Mombasa and their ocean liner. (In those days, commercial aviation was all but nonexistent.)
"One in particular," Hardy continued, "has turned out to be the worst stock killer that I've experienced. He's killed a number of lambs as well as several head of good beef cattle and one milk cow that I'd just bought. Damn his spotted hide! If you'd like another cat, I'd be quite happy for you to shoot that one. Stuart can take you out with Diana. She knows where to look for that devil. Or, Geoff can take you, as technically, he's your hunter. Diana can show him where to do what he does so well, and soon, I pray that you'll solve my problem with that particular piece of predacious vermin. Otherwise, when you've left, I want Stuart and Diana to get the bounder, or I will." (Diana Hardy Hamilton was Angus's daughter, and wife of white hunter Stuart Hamilton, D.S.O., M.C. .)
"Sounds like just what I had in mind, and I'd be doing a friend a good deed," the Countess mused. "Right, Geoff and I will take care of your problem cat, Angus. That's all right with you, John? It won't look any more suspicious than when you go hunting with a married woman, meaning Finn." She smiled wickedly, being given to teasing her mate and Mrs. Challenger for being frequent hunting companions. She had dubbed that adventurous duo Orion and Diana or The Gun People.
Lord John Roxton, V.C., XVIIIth Earl of Avebury, nodded. "Fine with me, Marguerite. You should have a grand time of it and get a beautiful trophy. While you're doing that, I want George and Finn and Susan to join me in collecting some game for the larder and in taking some photos by that large waterhole about a mile from the house. I think Finn and Susan can get some remarkable photos and cine film of the birds there and some game that comes to drink. It will be nice material for Finn's lectures and her books, and I want some of the pictures for our own collection." (Susan Wilson was Finn Challenger's beautiful young secretary, rescued from slavers two years before. That story is now available in the Mature-rated TLW fics on this board. It is called, "On Safari" and is the first of the five safari-based tales to date.)
White hunter Geoffrey Blacklaws looked at the Roxtons and the Challengers and at Susan, and all nodded. Marguerite Roxton and Geoff would hunt the troublesome leopard and the others would do as John Roxton suggested. No one suspected that Lady Roxton's leopard hunt would prove to be more terrifying than expected. For the moment, ignorance was their bliss. But he or she who hunts the leopard had best proceed with caution, and expect the unexpected…
CHAPTER TWO
Following breakfast the next day, Stuart and Diana Hamilton showed Geoffrey and Holly Blacklaws and Lady Roxton several likely trees in which to hang leopard baits, and they shot two wildebeest (gnu) and three impala that were injured, old or otherwise desirable leopard bait, being less interesting as human fare or hunting trophies. Angus liked to keep the weak individuals thinned out and the herds on his land healthy and breeding well. Of course, natural predators did most of that work. Lions, leopards, and cheetahs all fed well there.
With some effort, the dead animals were hung in widely separated trees around the area where the big cattle-killing leopard was known to dwell. In a day or two, he would probably find a kill and begin feeding on it. The animals, especially the wildebeest, were large enough that they couldn't be finished in one meal, so the cat would have to return to relish his newfound free groceries. When it became evident on which tree's bait he was dining, Geoff and Marguerite would slip into a thorn bush blind or "hide" where they would wait almost motionless and soundless for the spotted devil to resume feeding on a kill. Then, Marguerite would hopefully shoot him, and end the depredations on Hardy's livestock and make the area safer for the nearby black children who might otherwise prove a temptation for a cat this bold.
Until they saw activity on the bait trees, Geoff and Marguerite were free to roam the land, taking photos, shooting a few antelope for the Hardy kitchen, and gunning sand grouse in the evening as they came to water holes. They also shot some francolin grouse, a larger, tastier bird that one author would eventually describe as being cursed with an abundance of white meat. (Robert C. Ruark, circa 1960) Ned Malone was especially fond of bird shooting and he and Veronica joined the others in getting some action for his shotguns.
Of course, the British members of the expedition also shot well, having trained in professional shooting schools run by such custom gunmakers as Holland & Holland, and being well practiced on grouse in Scotland each August. The Roxtons and the Challengers also raised pheasants on their land, making sure to breed enough to provide good shooting for them and for a few select guests. But none of them had seen such an abundance of wild birds as in Africa, where huge flocks seemed totally undiminished by any reasonable degree of shooting. What birds didn't go to feed Angus and the safari were given to the black squatters and employees on the land, but the safari, including the African employees, consumed much of what was shot. Nothing was wasted or left to become carrion to feed scavengers.
As some shot game or took photos, others built suitable thorn and grass blinds near the bait trees where the leopard would hopefully appear. The leopard would have to become accustomed to seeing these before any were occupied by hunters.
Ned was proud that he kept up well with the highly skilled British shotgunners, who fired matched pairs of double-barreled guns from James Purdey & Sons and from Holland & Holland and in Susan's case, an American Remington 20 gauge pump-action gun. The Remington was a good gun, but being machine made with less hand fitting than the largely hand-built double guns, it cost far less, something not lost on the girl, who was hardly wealthy. The Challengers paid her better than the bank where she had worked prior to being taken by slavers two years before, and she got her food and room free. But she was still not financially anywhere near in the position of any of the other safari members. But she was better off than she had ever expected to be, and was here in Kenya, doing things that most working girls could never hope for! She was euphoric, especially when Mrs. Challenger asked her to pose with some animals or scenery for photos in her next book. In some, John Roxton, a keen photographer, shot pictures of Finn with Susan and sometimes with the white hunters and their wives or the safari crew.
Jonas, a Kikuyu tribesman who was Susan's personal "boy" in camp, grinned widely when allowed to pose by her and he was ecstatic when presented with processed pictures of himself. Most of the other "boys" feared to pose, thinking the camera might steal their souls with white man's magic. Several shied away quickly when asked, mumbling of juju, evil magic. They were already skittish around Marguerite, whom they called Mem'Sahib Kifaru (Lady Rhino) for her occasional quick temper, rhinos being known for grouchiness. But the ancient Druidic ceremony that she had led to thwart the presumed magic of a now - dead witch doctor was even more frightening to them. (That Fic, "A Lion Comes" is not now on the Net.) They whispered among themselves and among Hardy's blacks that Mem'Sahib Marguerite was a juju woman, and she was avoided when possible.
Her prophecy that the witch doctor, who had led an insurrection earlier in the safari, would be torn into two pieces after fleeing troops and police, had come true, a hippo having bitten him in half when he had tried to escape by entering a grass tunnel that one traversed alongside a river. When word of this had spread, Lady Roxton was widely feared. But gifts of meat and smiles to the local Africans, especially children, had also made her loved by some. The Challengers also ran a free clinic to mend many minor wounds and other injuries among Hardy's Africans, so the safari was accepted. And the Roxtons' personal boy had gotten used to Marguerite's frequent grumbling when he brought tea and toast or croissants early each day, to wake the safari clients and warn them that breakfast would soon be served.
The party enjoyed sleeping indoors in their rooms at the Hardy estate, Marguerite delightedly refreshing herself in a real bath with shower, in lieu of the canvas bathing facilities when they were in camp. So, things went well for the time that they waited for the leopard to begin feeding on one of the proffered kills. The only real excitement came when Ned was startled by a black mamba (Dendroaspis polylepis, a very fast and deadly snake) while walking across the savannah in hopes of shooting a hare. He swung up his Winchester Model 12 shotgun and blew the advancing snake into whichever afterlife reptiles occupy as his terrified wife stood hand to mouth. Not much scared Veronica Malone, but snakes did, especially those with a reputation as grim as that of the black mamba. Much farther south in Africa, its Zulu name translated to Shadow of Death. Geoff told them that soberly after learning of the incident, during which Stuart Hamilton had been escorting the Malones. But Stuart and Diana had been too far back to shoot the snake, and all were glad that Ned's skill with shotguns had saved him. His fancy Winchester pump gun, with selected walnut for the stock and forearm, had paid for itself yet again.
Veronica amused herself by stalking a bushbuck and killing it with her bow, and they fished a day on a river near the Hardy land, catching barbels (catfish), Nile perch, and three savage tiger fish. Finn took close-up photos of the jaws of these, with the sharp, interlocking teeth that could shred flesh with a quick bite. Ned remarked that the coloration and some of the shape of the tiger fish reminded him of the American striped bass caught off the U.S.'s Atlantic coast. But the mouth, with its grim armament, was something quite else.
Finally, Geoff and Holly drove by one of the bait trees and saw through his binocular that the leopard had begun to feed on a wildebeest carcass. Geoff told Holly that this was ideal; for the meat would last longer than if the spotted cat had selected a tree baited with a smaller impala. They returned to the Hardy farm and Marguerite was very pleased to know that the time was near at hand for her final hunt for dangerous game on this safari.
What she could not know would have frightened her out of her wits, for there was more at stake than just a simple wait in the blind until she could fire a shot at an unsuspecting leopard.
Told that night at supper about the feeding cat, Marguerite was pleased; for she had feared that her last opportunity to shoot one might pass. Lord Roxton was enthusiastic, and asked if his wife wanted him at her side in the endeavor.
"Sorry, old man," explained Stuart Hamilton. "There's only room in those smaller thorn blinds for the client and one white hunter. Make one too large and it quite puts off the leopard, which has already no doubt examined the empty "hide" and seen that nothing is there. But they'll check out any changes in the terrain if they know it, and they have got incredibly keen senses of sight, hearing, and perhaps smell, if one is close, regarding the smell part. They certainly don't smell like herbivores do, but I know from dragging around dead zebras for them to scent that lions do smell pretty well at reasonable distances, and Old Spots probably can, too. At any rate, they sniff a scent better than we can. I say, Holly: do I smell a freshly baked pie?"
His partner's wife laughed and admitted that she and Diana Hardy Hamilton had indeed baked pies that day after Holly and Geoff had returned from scouting the blinds.
Finn had a rather keen nose for a human and she ventured that one pie smelled like blackberries were the ingredient. "I know where you can get rid of some of it," she laughed, smiling at her husband, a devotee of such items. Indeed, Finn was also fond of blackberries, whether in pies, plain, or as preserves. The Challengers had given standing orders to their personal boy to bring croissants with blackberry preserves and honey with the morning tea in camp, whenever they had the preserves.
Dessert with coffee led to further discussion of Marguerite's chances and John decided to go with the Challengers and the Malones the next day and drive about the estate and a lake on it, in hopes of getting additional photos and perhaps some movies for Finn's lectures back in Britain. It was with these and her adventure books that the slender young blonde contributed to the family income, her husband's inventions being the primary source of their living.
"Suits me," declared the Countess. "I think I'll sew a bit in the morning with Holly and write a letter to Amanda Musgrave. Then, I want a nap after lunch, before we set out for the blind."
"We'll take sandwiches and ginger ale with us," Geoff said. "We'll have time to eat those before we head on to the blind, and if we eat, Bwana Chui (Swahili for leopard) won't hear our tummies growling if he passes right by us en route to dine on his wildebeest repast. By the by, we'd ought to leave our watches in the hunting car. Some hunters believe that a leopard can hear them tick if he gets close enough. And I'm not joking. This has to be a totally stealthy event."
CHAPTER THREE
In bed that night, Marguerite begged off of making love. "John, I want just the solace of your arms around me more than I want raw passion tonight, if you can agree. I'm afraid that my nerves are a bit on edge. That cat is a crafty one of a crafty species, and I'm trying to connect with my inner woman and tell myself that I can do this cleanly. If I wound the leopard, poor Geoff will have to go into that long yellow grass after it, and if anything happens to him, I'd be devastated. Not to mention Holly. How could I face her again if Geoff gets mauled or killed? They are so much in love, and such a sweet couple, as are Stuart and Diana. But the one I fear most to face if I prove incompetent is you, Darling. I have my responsibiity as a Roxton riding heavily on me, as your wife and your Countess. And I don't much fancy looking in a mirror for a long time and seeing myself there if I'm the one whose lousy shooting or whose inopportune sneeze gets Geoff savaged by that cat. This is a tremendous responsibility. And this cat has been prowling around the huts in the African area at night. Ali ( a gunbearer) told me this afternoon that its pug marks (tracks) have been recognized there. It's probably only a matter of time until it takes a human victim."
"Marguerite, I feel confident that you can do this," replied the Earl. "You are a fine shot, cool-headed, and aware of the responsibility. We've taken seven leopards on this safari already, and you shot one. You can do it again."
"Yes, John, but the only leopard that came easy was that shot by Veronica as it sunned on a big rock in the middle of the afternoon. What are the odds of that happening often? I must say, Ned has handled it well that she shot a bigger tom than he did. Most men would have ego problems if their wives killed a bigger animal than they had. Your sex is driven to that, to feel macho and in charge. Ned is so sweet to her! To be sure, he has taken some exceptional trophies, too, and he shot that elephant that almost got her when she insisted on playing jungle princess. (See, "The Night of the Lions" in our Mature stories.) Look, are you and Finny still going after that caracal that's been stealing Angus's lambs? Do we have time for it?" (A caracal or rooikat, in Afrikaans, is an African lynx, famed for its speed and ferocity.)
"Yes," said Roxton. "But Finnykins and I discussed it after dinner tonight. We're going to wait until you have this leopard in the bag. The Challengers and I are going to wait in a car as near as we can reasonably get to your blind. If anything goes awry, we're coming to your aid immediately. George and Finn will stay with you and I'll go with Geoff after the cat, if you wound it. You will stay where it's safe, with the car. Is that clear, Marguerite?"
She bristled at his masculine protectiveness and husbandly authority, but said calmly, "And what if Geoff or I are mauled, or worse, by the time that you arrive?"
John held her to him and said softly, "That, Darling is a possibility that may keep me from sleeping well tonight. But I have vast faith in you and in Bwana Blacklaws. I'm sure that you'll acquit yourselves nicely. But, no worries: if you're both killed, I'll marry Holly. I'm sure that you wouldn't want her to wither as a beautiful widow."
He winked at her and Marguerite squealed, "John! You beast! Don't you even speculate about me leaving you so easily!" She laughed and hit him with her pillow. The stress was broken and she soon slept, held in his arms, feeling more content than she had dreamed that she ever might, before marrying this remarkable man. But an hour into her slumber, a dream of a big leopard, its teeth and claws bloody, invaded her mind and she squirmed restlessly. John held her until she lapsed again into peaceful rest, then he lay awake, worried that the possibility of the cat reaching her was more than he should risk. But he would be so proud of her if she succeeded in her mission! Marguerite was his love, his life. The mother of his two children now in the care of their nannies back in England... He prayed that all would go well on the next afternoon. In time, he, too, slept.
Two miles away, a large leopard stalked and killed a 40 pound duiker in a patch of bush on Hardy's estate. Would he be satisfied with this meat, or would he come again to the rotting wildebeest in the bait tree? The big cat licked his lips and began to feed on the small antelope. The moon looked down on the farm and the leopard snarled softly as he heard a pair of lions exchange roars in the stillness of the African night. All creatures have their nightmares and their dreads in the primeval darkness on the savannah.
CHAPTER FOUR
In the morning, they breakfasted together, then went their separate ways. Marguerite and Holly Blacklaws helped Angus around the house, including attending his injured neighbor, Hendrik van der Meer. Hendrik had been mauled by a lion while en route to visit Angus, and had been near death when the explorers noticed vultures swirling above him. Finn watched in her Zeiss 8X30 binocular as a bullet from van der Meer's 7mm Mauser sporting rifle exploded one bird in flight, and the group decided to investigate. They saved the man, whose truck had broken down. He told how he had tried to walk to the Hardy farm, but encountered a lion that had evidently lost a male dominance fight to a rival and was ejected from a pride. In a foul mood, the wounded simba charged the man that he had found on foot. The old Boer had hit the charging cat twice in the chest, but the dying lion reached him just as it expired. That gave the angry beast two or three seconds to claw van der Meer seriously and to inflict a bad bite to his left leg. (For the full story of this event and the aftermath, see, "The Night of the Lions" in the Mature Rated TLW fiction here.)
After seeing that van der Meer had eaten and was resting, Marguerite and Holly sewed and gossiped, then Marguerite wrote a letter to her friend Amanda Musgrave, wife of the local District Commissioner, and a familiar figure to those who have read the previous stories in this safari series among the author's many TLW tales. Marguerite promised Amanda to send some dresses from her London maker, with some of the daring (for the times) lingerie that she and Finn designed along 21st Century lines. Then, the Countess ate a light lunch and went to bed until time to rise and depart for the leopard blind.
A little after two PM, Marguerite dressed for the hunt. She and Finn debated whether to wear jodhpurs and boots or trimmer, feminine - tailored trousers like the mens that Finn favored, with shorter boots. Shorts and skirts received scant consideration. "I don't want some bug, maybe a scorpion, to bumble up my dress or shorts," declared Marguerite when Roxton asked.
She opted for a khaki blouse and bush jacket, a white shirt being too likely to be detected by the leopard. And white clothes often frightened or angered animals, whereas khaki went unnoticed. The other girls and all the men chose khaki trousers with light blue shirts, their usual hunting attire. Their light khaki bush jackets carried their compasses, spare ammunition, and such nicities as matches. Everyone wore pistols and hunting knives on their belts, and took their binoculars.
"Rifle?" inquired the male Roxton. "You want a .275 or something more?"
"I'll shoot my 'scope-sighted Rigby .275," the huntress decided. "The range to the branch where the cat is probably going to be is about 50 yards, enough to let me have a wide enough field of view in that 4X 'scope to see him well, and the glass sight will not just magnify; it'll draw added light. That may be crucial if he comes near dusk, at the edge of the light. Geoff says that they often do. I'll take my iron-sighted .303, too, lest we have to follow him up, so I can get the sights on target quicker if he comes for us."
John looked carefully at his wife and said, "Marguerite, we've discussed this. Take the .303, but you let Geoff go after the beast if that's needed. You stay in the blind until the rest of us arrive."
Marguerite stuck out her tongue and quipped, "Yes, oh, lord and master. I hear and will obey." She executed a humble curtsy, to her mate's embarrassment and pique.
Veronica rolled her eyes. "Well, that'll be a first. You're hardly known for meek obedience! Look, can we take another car and not mess things up? Ned and I want to be nearby, too, if we're needed, or just to get an early view of that leopard if you get it."
The group decided to have the Challengers, Roxton, and Holly in one car, with the Malones and the Hamiltons in another. Both cars would park in cover about a half mile from the bait tree, and Challenger provided examples of his new spotlight lantern for each vehicle. "Inasmuch as Marguerite has mentioned that she'll be operating at the edge of the light, she may need the added advantage that the new lantern gives if the shadows get too dark," he warned.
Geoff agreed and cheerfuly accepted the lantern, which he knew cast a bright, broad beam from batteries that Challenger kept charged with a portable generator. He had been impressed with several of the great scientist's inventions, but this was among the best, in his opinion. And it was one that might be needed tonight!
The party motored out most of the way to the bait tree, stopping well away to brew tea and eat sandwiches of succulent Guinea fowl breast meat and snack on fruit.
Finn amused herself by looking at passing birds and studying small groups of antelope that drifted past, followed by a herd of zebras. But she kept an eye on Marguerite from the corner of her eye and winked encourgingly when she saw the brunette woman glance her way. Marguerite grinned and looked more relaxed.
Veronica ate more than she'd intended, normally being careful of her figure, as she tended to gain weight more easily than her "sisters." But the sandwiches and German potato salad were good, and she was a little stressed over how the evening would go. And she was just plain excited, as was Ned. They knew that Roxton was pretending to be blase and unalarmed, while he was probably really anxious that Marguerite do everything right and impress everyone there, especially herself.
Finally, Geoff checked his watch and suggested that anyone needing to relieve themselves do so, especially the two who would have to sit for two or three hours in that thorn and grass structure, awaiting a ghostly cat that might or might not appear. He and Marguerite could not move, let alone leave the blind, until time to depart it for the night. Dead leopard or not, they would leave as darkness fell, hopefully blocking the cat seeing them exit if it was close enough.
When they were all ready, Holly drove the car with the hunters past the blind and paused just a few seconds as Marguerite and the male Blacklaws bailed out and crept quickly into their shelter. They spent only a minute or so in arranging their jackets, canteens, a blanket, and the spare rifles, then gave one another an encouraging look. Marguerite propped her .275 Rigby atop two crossed wooden sticks that were previously implanted in line with the bait and cycled the bolt to load her rifle. She would not engage the safety, lest any motion to release it might attract the cat's sharp eyes or ears. And they had indeed left their wristwatches in the car, lest the faint ticking prove audible to their intended victim if he passed directly by the blind.
Marguerite heard Geoff cycle the bolt to his .375 Magnum Holland & Holland and then silence reigned until the bush began to stir in the aftermath of the car's brief visit.
Some bird began a repetitive call that soon had the Countess's nerves on edge. It reminded her of an Asian "brain fever" bird, and she tried to block out the ongoing noise, hoping that it wasn't an alarm call that might warn the leopard or other animals in the area. She had good peripheral vision and sneaked a glance at Blacklaws. He was taking no notice of the avian intruder, and he did this sort of thing routinely, helping clients to bag their leopards. Apparently, the bird was just maddening to hear. In fact, to Geoff, who loved this place and its sights and sounds, the bird wasn't even an issue. Then, Marguerite had another thought: what if Geoff was waiting for the bird to become quiet? Would that sudden silence mean that the leopard had arrived and was even then stalking the tree...or the hunters?
Far away, Prof. George Challenger stood in the car and braced his elbows on the windscreen, the canvas top of the vehicle rolled back. He was staring through his big binocular, a Zeiss 15X60. It was too heavy to hold truly steady without muscle tremor, sans the rest or a tripod, but Challenger was a strong man and the sturdy metal frame of the window enabled him to hold well enough to make out the hunting blind in the distance. This did not amaze anyone in the car, for they all knew that the American optical company Bausch & Lomb advertised that a man could see an apple on a tree at a range of one mile with their fine binoculars. And B&L referred to their smaller glasses of seven or eight power magnification. Indeed, Ned Malone had a B&L 7x35, and he had proven that claim to himself. The Carl Zeiss Optik binoculars used by the others were on par, and Challenger's astronomical model offered twice the magnification of Ned's 7X35, with its big objective lenses drinking in and providing even more light to the viewer's eyes. (This old ad claim by Bausch & Lomb is valid; the author has tested it. The apple is difficult to see, but can be detected! This does require a very steady hold or a rest for the instrument.)
Presently, Roxton asked if Challenger saw anything of consequence. The big ginger-haired man shook his head slightly. "Just a large kori bustard and a couple of secretary birds a hundred yards from our heroes."
"Then sit down, Genius, and play tic-tac-toe with me," said his wife. "I'll get us ginger ales from the chop box, too. We put some in with ice when we left Angus's place."
Holly Blacklaws and John Roxton looked at one another and at Finn, then Roxton shrugged and asked for a ginger ale, too. There was really nothing that they could do but wait. And for them, the wait was easier than for those huddling silently in the blind, as a gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the tree that they watched.
CHAPTER FIVE
Earlier that day, the big leopard with the duiker kill had been driven off from his improvised lair when a herd of buffalo came by. One big bull had scented the leopard and the dead antelope and taken objection. He pursued the spotted cat through the patch of brush and up a tree, where the M'bogo had snorted ferociously until his band wanted to leave. The leopard waited, hiding when a herd of elephant also passed nearby. When he returned to his kill, a honey badger had taken it over and was clearly ready to dispute ownership. The honey badger or ratel is a fierce beast, and even a leopard hesitates to tackle one if it can be avoided. The ratel is sort of the African equivalent to the North American wolverine, and is a formidable threat to any animal that arouses its ire. The leopard thought that he could kill the badger, but only at the cost of being seriously wounded, and a wounded predator is in dire straits.
Sawing viciously, the leopard backed off and went to nap in a nearby rock formation. Thus, he passed the heat of the day. When he woke, he drank at a small stream issuing from a fissure in the rocks and decided to go to the bait tree and claim a meal from the hundred or so pounds of flesh left on the wildebeest bait. He was both hungry and grouchy, after losing his duiker kill to the honey badger and the interference of the other animals. Always potentially dangerous, he was now especially so, his mood foul.
Back in the blind, the minutes passed into hours as the hunters tried their best not to move. Finally, Marguerite smacked a fly on her face with a quick gesture that drew a baleful look from Blacklaws. But he then smiled, shaking his head minutely, as if to say that he understood. The infernal bird continued to call, and Marguerite tried to blot out its cries by thinking of her children. What might Johnny and Elizabeth be doing at this moment, back in England? Were they behaving? Did they miss her, or were they by now so used to the servants that their parents would seem strangers when they saw them again? And come to think of it, what was Lord Roxton doing while she sat confined in this thatch contraption, waiting for either darkness or a leopard to end her uncomfortable vigil?
At the cars, Roxton half wished that he smoked, so that he'd have something to do to let him figit productively while he passed his own vigil, hoping fervently that his wife would succeed in killing the huge leopard that had made himself too much at home among their host's livestock. He glanced at the Challengers playing tic-tac-toe and thought how ridiculous it was for a scientist of George's caliber to waste his time at that child's game. He could see Finn and Veronica doing it, but it seemed beneath a grown man's dignity.
Finn whooped softly as she won a game and said, "My turn to drink", and swilled a swallow of her ginger ale. It dawned on Roxton that she and George were taking turns drinking, the winner of a match getting to have the next drink from his or her bottle. He wondered whether Marguerite would make a blonde joke out of that, but maybe not. Challenger was among her favorite people and his wry young wife was also a close friend of both Roxtons. And Finn might have a reply cocked and ready in case of just such a barb from Lady Roxton. She was blonde, but very sharp mentally in spite of a willingness to play silly games to relieve stress at times like this. She even got George to grudgingly take an interest in the game, probably to humor her because she was so dear to him. Goodness knew, that was a two-way street, for Finn was often teased by Marguerite and Veronica for her frequent nurturing of her mate.
Roxton became aware that Veronica was watching something moving in the grass some 75 yards distant from the lead car. He reached for his .416 Rigby, but Holly said, "No worries, John. I just had a look at that with my glass and it's a serval. It won't bother us. Probably hunting mice. "
She, Veronica, and the Hamiltons were playing bridge on the hood of the hunting car while Ned dozed, his head on a rolled blanket that served as an improvised pillow. But the bridge foursome were looking around frequently, staying alert. They knew better than to take too much for granted in a land where danger walked or slithered in many forms.
Finn looked at the Earl with compassion and concern and said, "Want tea, Johnny? I can brew some. What about you, Genius?" The last query was to her brilliant husband, who was also her father figure, mentor, and an icon of sorts to her. But Stuart Hamilton said not to make tea, as something might happen any time at the bait tree, and they needed to be ready to roll to assist the hunters there. Roxton settled for a ginger ale, which Holly brought him from the big water bag in the other car, filled with ice.
Ned opened an eye and looked at his watch, prompting the male Challenger to take out his gold Heuer hunter and also consult the time.
"We'll give it another 45 minutes, then we'd better go after our nimrods," said Stuart. "If the leopard is going to arrive, he won't be much longer. If he is, it'll be too dark to shoot, and the last thing we want is a wounded cat in that long grass and thick bush."
"Do they ever just wait until dark and make it impossible to shoot them over a bait?" wondered Veronica Malone.
"Unfortunately, yes," replied the white hunter. "They can be absolute buggers to tag, especially if one turns out man-eater. There was one in India that played havoc with Hindu religious pilgrims who had to take a certain route to some holy shrine. The cat began eating people in 1918, probably having fed on the bodies of flu victims thrown out in the jungle after an epidemic. Normally, that lot burn their dead, of course, but not when so many die so quickly. Anyway, this damned leopard went on gobbling the unwary until some chap named Corbett shot him in 1926. The cat had a field day for eight years, collecting some 125 known people. That must have been a long, stressful ordeal for poor Corbett, who had to hunt the animal when he could take time off from his job on the railway. He ought to write a book about it. I'd buy a copy, and I daresay that most of you would, too. It has to be a fascinating story, how he finally caught up to that devil and finished his career ." (The remarkable Jim Corbett did eventually write that book. It is called, "The Man-Eating Leopard of Rudraprayag" and reprints are sometimes available from Safari Press or Oxford University Press of India. Originals are quite collectible. and sell for a considerable sum. Corbett's other books are also wonderful accounts of true pursuits of man-eating tigers and leopards. One tigress had eaten a known 436 people, a leopard over 400 by the time he ended their bloody careers. Ironically, the Leopard of Panar had killed far more often than the one at Rudraprayag, but lived in more remote terrain and was less in the news.)
"If it's all the same to you, Stuart, I'd just as soon not reflect on leopards that eat people, not just on this particular afternoon." Roxton was uneasy enough without being reminded how bad a leopard can be. He wondered how Geoff and Marguerite were coping.
CHAPTER SIX
At the tree, Marguerite suddenly became aware that the cursed bird had stopped calling. The bush around her had suddenly gone quiet. As she registered this, Geoff touched her right leg lightly and gestured with his lips toward the bait. Marguerite bent her head slightly to the 'riflescope, a 4X32mm Hensoldt. She half heard, half sensed, a scurry of claws on bark and then the leopard was suddenly just there, its spotted hide filling the field of view of her sight. She eased her eye closer to the ocular lens and saw that the cat was looking right at her. She froze, and in a few seconds, the head turned and gazed around. The leopard was apparently just giving the area a visual going-over before settling down to feed. Marguerite moved her hands slowly and carefully onto the rifle and she moved it slightly on the aiming sticks, seeking a lethal spot on the cat before firing. She could almost hear Blacklaws holding his breath, willing her to do good shooting.
A branch was in line with the shoulder shot that she wanted, to break the bone and impair a charge if the cat survived her initial shot. She eased the rifle farther back until the crosshairs of the telescopic sight settled on the area of the heart, low in the chest, just behind the left foreleg as the leopard lay on the limb. The 'scope reticle was a European type with the three lower limbs thicker, to allow quick sighting in low light, with the upper crosshair the usual thin diameter. This allowed taking shots in the jungle or forest, while allowing a good aim with the upper crosshair when shooting plains game in good light. Marguerite held the junction of the crosshairs steady on the heart of her prey and began squeezing the trigger...
BLAM! spoke the rifle, sending a 140 grain patented controlled expansion bullet where she had held.
At first, nothing happened, and the Countess was afraid that she had missed and that the leopard was looking to see from where the shot had come. Then, the image of the cat began to slide in her field of view and she heard a slithering sound as it slipped off of the branch and fell solidly the 20 feet to the ground. She had heard the bullet impact flesh and had definitely heard the body hit the earth beyond the tree.
"Right, reload, quick," came Geoff's voice as Marguerite's ears began to recover from the slap of sound as the rifle fired. She lifted the bolt handle and cycled the action, flipping out the fired brass cartridge case and ramming home a fresh cartridge in the chamber.
"I think I got him," she whispered, and Geoff nodded.
"I heard the bullet hit and I heard him fall," the professional hunter whispered back. "Look, I'll just slip out of the blind and walk around a bit to get my legs functioning again. They've gone to sleep a little, sitting here without moving. Then, I'll cover you as you do the same. Watch to the left of the tree. I'll look mainly to the right. If he's alive and comes for us, we should be able to get in a shot or two in time to stop him."
Marguerite nodded, shoving a thorn bush aside to give her a better field of fire as Geoff crawled out and stood precariously, balancing carefully as he began walking in place to restore his constricted circulation. He passed her something and she realized that it was the ejected cartridge case, lying gleaming in her hand as the sun moved toward the receding horizon, just at the edge of the light, dusk fast encroaching.
"Keep that," he spoke softly. "It will make a nice souvenir of this momentous occasion. I think you shot well. In a few moments, we'll stroll over, rifles ready, and see the results of your handiwork. If I'm lucky as I precede you, I'll see a dead leopard on the ground. If we're less lucky, I'll see him in the air, aiming right for my face, his lower claws poised to rip out my guts as his teeth go for my throat. I'll happily forego that thrill, if possible."
Marguerite took his proffered hand as he helped her to leave the blind and stand, bracing her as she got her feet well under her and did a silly jig to restore circulation in her legs. She brushed a few leaves off the khaki fabric of her jodhpur trousers.
"How does it feel, assuming that you got a clean kill?" he asked.
"Pretty good," she admitted. "Almost post orgasmic. Was it good for you, too, Geoff?" She winked at his embarrassment, then he laughed.
"Well, I expect that I'd better get over there and have a look at His Leopardness," he said, balancing the .375 Magnum Holland & Holland rifle, ready to snap the butt to his shoulder and fire on a second's notice. "Turn on the lantern and keep it aimed just to the left of the tree. I'll amble over and see what's to be seen. If the cat is definitely kuisha (finished), I'll call you over and we can gloat over your success before our chums arrive. They'll have heard the shot and be underway by now."
But he had taken just a few steps before they realized that something was very wrong!
Something moved in the grass, low and fast, then they heard a series of coughing roars that were characteristic of a very angry leopard! Suddenly, they saw the big cat, larger than Marguerite had imagined, headed straight for Blacklaws, who was raising his rifle, a look of raw shock on his handsome face.
Marguerite dropped the lantern and snap-shot as the cat hurtled past a few feet away, her Rigby held at waist level. There was no time to shoulder the rifle, let alone to find the charging cat in the restricted field of view afforded by the telescopic sight. She sensed more than saw that Blacklaws had also fired, the hefty muzzle blast of the .375 assailing her ears, the hot air of it warming her skin for a split second, the orange flame of the flash reminding Marguerite of someone having set off a camera. Then she had the bolt open, struggling to feed a fresh cartridge into the chamber as the cat rolled, snarling viciously, obviously still alive and very desirous of reaching a human to turn into what would look like raw hamburger, if more bloody.
WHAM! spoke the .375 as Blacklaws leaned over the cat, firing into its chest from a frontal angle at a range of barely two feet! Marguerite stepped over and, being careful not to hit Geoff, fired again, this time breaking the right shoulder blade and doing vast damage to the internal organs. Geoff shot once more, this time through the outstretched nose, the 270 grain bullet blowing out the back of the cat's skull, taking a considerable chunk of the brain in its passage. The leopard flopped, as dead as last night's chicken dinner.
"Reload!" commanded the hunter, taking his own advice, snatching three cartridges from their loops sewn to the front of his bush jacket.
"What do you bloody think I'm doing?" snapped Lady Roxton, fumbling to get the flap of her leather ammo pouch open. She carried ten rounds in this belt pouch as well as two full reloads for her Smith & Wesson .38 revolver. She got the new rounds in the magazine of her rifle and snapped the bolt shut, watching the now inert leopard.
"This might be a good time to shine that lantern on him," suggested the hunter. "Then, I think if he's truly dead, we ought to go look behind that tree. I don't see how he could have fallen that convincingly and still come for us with so much vim and vigor. I know the saying about cats having nine lives, but that seems to be stretching things a bit."
Marguerite got the lantern and set the rifle against a log, the safety on. She couldn't see the sight in this light, so close to the target. She drew the Smith & Wesson, hoping that the .38 would prove powerful enough if the bullet was placed just right, if the demon moved again. Geoff's .375 had conventional iron sights, so he was able to use it well at close quarters.
He waited as she shined the light over the beautiful body of the ferocious feline, then said, "I think, Marguerite, you should holster the revolver and step inside the blind and acquire your open-sighted .303. We may not be done here yet tonight."
She looked at him in horror and asked, "Are you saying that there's another of these spotted devils?"
Back at the cars, the hunters heard the first shot and Stuart Hamilton said, "That's it, lads. You, too, ladies. Off of our duffs and off to see the circus! Knowing Marguerite, I expect to see a dead leopard. But either way, the one shot has either bagged her game or spooked him and he's buggered off into the bush."
The group hastily cleaned up their bottles and snacks and got underway for the bait tree, Stuart driving one vehicle and Holly the other. Roxton had started to drive, but Finn pointed out that the fading light required sharp eyesight at that hour and Holly was barely 20. Roxton was twice that age, and his pupils wouldn't open as wide in dim light. Also, she was much more familiar with the ground, being a close friend and business partner of the Hamiltons.
They had barely gotten underway when a fresh fuisilade of shots rang out. "Upon my word!" exclaimed the male Challenger."That is most irregular, I think? Holly, how soon can we get there? I rather fancy that our assistance may be needed." To Finn, he added, "Darling, I think we had better have a first aid kit ready. Get that close to hand with your rifle. We may require both."
"I'm totally on that, Genius," Finn answered, brandishing the medical kit, which she had already located and placed under her seat. She also had her .275 Rigby at hand, her .400 Jeffery double rifle in the hands of the only gunbearer in the car, a reliable man named Metheke. Finn had also gotten one of her mate's advanced design lanterns ready. Ever the survivor, her mind was sometmes ahead of even those of her friends, who were all experienced hunters and survivors of perils in primitive conditions.
She reached into the seat ahead of her and patted Roxton's shoulder. "No worries, Johnny. We'll get there fast, and Marguerite and Geoff are both good shots. They're probably fine."
The nobleman was less sanguine about the hunters' prospects. He always worried about Marguerite, and his instincts told him that something had gone wrong. His expression was tense as he said, "Finny, I hope to God that you're right. I'm going to say a quick prayer along those lines. We all love those people, but Holly and I have the most at stake. That's the price of love, I suppose."
CHAPTER SEVEN
"I expect that we'd better wait for the others or my husband will act all macho and protective and yell at us for taking unneccesary chances. How long do you fancy the cars will take to arrive? And if the cat is lying out there wounded, will it lie in wait for us, or come after us?" Marguerite was anxious. She ducked into the blind and came out with the BSA .303, a sporting rifle based on the military Lee-Enfield action. (Note: Marguerite had one of these on the show, but the stock style was developed much later than the period of history represented on the program, circa 1950. The prop house must have been unable to obtain an earlier example with a period-appropriate stock and a longer barrel.) She cycled the bolt to load a 174 grain softnosed bullet into the chamber and looked to see if she could detect the headlights of the incoming vehicles.
Holly followed Stuart across a shallow gully that ran wet during the rainy months, but was dry at this time of year. They had to find a place with shallow banks to enable the vehicles to pass, even with their high ground clearance for cars. But they did cross and soon saw Marguerite shining a lantern at them, flicking the on-off switch to send a Morse code for S-O-S. Roxton stood, holding to a bar on the dash of the car for steadiness, and signalled back with a few flashes.
"I'm worried about that first cat, if there is one," grumbled Geoff. "If he is out there and alive, he's suffering, and that's not something that a sportsman or any decent human being likes to think about. But to answer your question, Marguerite, he may either charge from a distance or at point blank range. Depends on how injured he is and how angry. We'd better be ready for any possibility. And I heard lions out there, a few hundred yards away. I particularly don't want them joining the party. There are probably more stimulating things to do than have to shoot lions in bad light, but I can't offhand think of any. At least, none that I've faced since the war." Marguerite knew that Geoff was among the South African troops who had fought the Germans under Gen. von Lettow-Vorbeck, mainly in Tanganyika, then a German colony. He had settled in Kenya after the war, during which he had been awarded the Military Cross and other decorations for gallantry in action. Stuart Hamilton had received that award and the higher Distinguished Service Order, just beneath the Victoria Cross itself. Both men had proven their extreme bravery even before they began guiding safari clients, substituting the risk of a charge by a lion or an elephant for German bullets. Marguerite thought about that as she waited, glad for Holly and Diana that they had married such bold, often funny men who loved them dearly. They also loved Africa and the animals, both the game that they hunted and the others, like the secretary birds and the eagles that drew their eyes as they encountered them.
Something stirred in the bush 20 feet away and Marguerite started and aimed the lantern at the noise, Geoff bringing up his .375 rifle in concern. Might this be the leopard? A puff adder crawling within reach, its deadly fangs a threat? A cruising black mamba? Or just a hare or springhaas?
"Genet," said Geoff as the light caught the vivverid as it reached a small clearing. The genet started, flipped backwards and was off like a rocket. But something else moved, back behind the tree, where the wounded leopard might be lying in wait!
Marguerite brought up the .303, muttering, "Can this day possibly get any better?" She flicked off the safety catch and waited for more noise in the tall yellow grass.
Geoff set the electric lantern on the ground at an angle that let the beam reach behind the tree and which would allow them to see the cat if it charged. Then, the hunters stood by, rifles ready, until their friends pulled up a few minutes later.
Lord Roxton was first out of a car, calling, "Marguerite! Damn it all! What on earth is happening? We saw your S-O-S signal. Is anyone hurt?"
"Yes," she smiled, smugly gesturing to the huge leopard to their right. "Him. I think he's had a fatal attack of lead poisoning. But he made a very serious attempt to get at us before he died, and he very nearly succeeded."
Roxton counted the bullet holes, noting that the back of the head was blown out by a powerful rifle. Big cats are measured for the record books by the size of their skulls as well as the weight and the size of the pelt. In shooting the leopard in the head, Geoff had probably ruined its chances of scoring high in Rowland Ward's, Records of Big Game.
"Must have been a pretty serious thing for you to take a head shot," he remarked drily.
"As serious as the taxman," Blacklaws retorted. "Look, I'm awfully sorry, but it was that or let him make a mess of both of us. He came out of the night, from the right. He couldn't possibly have been behind that tree unless he did a very masterful sneak from where he landed, then worked around the tree and came in at us from that angle. John, I think there may be a second cat lying about where the one that Marguerite shot fell. I have no idea why there were two, unless it's a mated pair, which happens sometimes during breeding season."
"Geoff! Good Lord, look!" Holly pointed to the hunter's left boot, which bore the scars of the leopard's claws, which had just reached him as he fired into its head. "Are you hurt, Darling?" Her face was pale.
Blacklaws was surprised to see his bloody boot with the claw marks evident. He was so adrenalized that he had felt no pain as yet, and expressed the hope that the blood was all the leopard's, that the claws hadn't penetrated the leather of his boot. He wanted to get the remaining leopard or see what had become of it, but Challenger insisted that he sit down and get the boot off and let them see how badly, if at all, he was injured. This was important, for wounds inflicted by carnivora become infected. In those days, most mauled by big cats died. Hendrik van der Meer was alive only because of Challenger's antibiotic medicine developed from plants that he had found in the Amazon, on that Plateau where many of the group had met years before.
With Holly's insistence, they convinced Geoff to sit in a car, where Holly and George got his boot off as Finn stood with rifle ready. When they saw that the foot was indeed bleeding, with claw furrows along the dorsal surface, Finn changed places with Holly, to let her work with her mate in cleaning the wounds and bandaging the foot. Finn used tweezers from the medical kit to pluck out fabric from Geoff's sock and they tried to let the oozing blood flow for a few seconds, to clean the wounds.
"The boot leather and the sock probably removed a lot of the rotting animal matter from the claws," observed Challenger. "You very likely got a great deal fewer pathogens in your hide than would normally be the case. But we'll keep an eye on this and I'll administer antibiotics later.. And we'll wash this out with red wine when we get back to Angus's house. That will help to kill any bacteria in the rips, and may alone suffice to let you heal."
As they spoke, Stuart led the Roxtons after what might be another big cat with a grudge. Marguerite had raised enough of a ruckus that her husband had finally relented and allowed her to come with him and their second hunter to stalk the remaining leopard, which she felt certain that she had hit. They advanced, Stuart Hamilton on the right, where the cat would probably go when found. John walked in the center, with Marguerite on his left, where she could cover if the cat broke out for the rear. It was safest for her to take that position, while letting her feel included in the pursuit. As she had vehemently pointed out, her bullet had begun this event, and she was determined to see it through.
As they advancd, they found a dead leopard, right where it should have been. It was was large for a leopard, a solid 160 pounds, Stuart thought. After ensuring that it was dead, Marguerite shined her flashlight into its eyes and commented that the eyes of leopards and lions always looked like glowing ports into Hell.
Geoff agreed, having limped over to see the cat. They were shining one of Challenger's lanterns on it, admiring the beauty combined with ferocity and congratulating Marguerite on the kill when somethng rustled in the grass to their left. A series of savage snarls made it evident that another big cat was charging!
Stuart raised his .465 H&H double barreled rifle but couldn't see anything but the moving grass. Finn stepped forward and shined her lantern at the attacker and Marguerite fired her .303, cycling the bolt rapidly for a second shot. Challenger and Diana ran forward, brandishing their rifles, wondering what the devil was happening. The Malones grabbed for their guns and a spare lantern, Ned cursing as he fumbled for a rifle in the dark.
"Marguerite!" yelled Roxton. But his only answer was a bloodcurdling cough from a leopard and the report of his wife's rifle!
The cat flipped over and skidded a couple of feet as the second bullet hit it in the chest, destroying the heart and angling back into other vital organs. A quick check with the lanterns and a prod from a gunbearer's spear established that it was dead. But why was it here at all? Three leopards here, at the same time?! But there was little time to speculate on this, for the lions detected earlier were moving closer. Holly slung her .350 Rigby Magnum on her shoulder and peered into the growing darkness with her binocular. She reported seeing tawny bodies crossing a clearing, then they heard a roar from one of the big felines.
"I don't half like this," muttered Geoff, his damaged boot now back on his foot. "Let's get these cats loaded into the cars and vacate the premises. I don't want to shoot any lions in the dark. My insurance agent disapproves of doing that."
Everyone chuckled politely, and Marguerite quipped. "Well, at least none of the leopards mauled me. That would be awful for my complexion. The sun out here is bad enough. I really need to ask my members in Parliament to pass an act limiting the violence of the tropical sun."
Challenger smiled and said, "Now that, Marguerite, might just be beyond even Parliament, although some of the members do seem to think they are rather special. But I think that such action might require an Act by a Higher Power. In His wisdom, the Almighty has decided that this place needs that sun, and I rather enjoy it. I'm looking forward to seeing a bit more of it before we return to our somewhat dreary Sceptered Isles and the winter rains, snow, and fog."
"Without that sun at our disposal just now, the lions have an advantage," reminded Stuart. "Geoff is right. We need to stop joking and get the cats loaded and be off. Besides, I quite look forward to supper with some of Angus's superior wine. Marguerite, with three leopards to your credit, I think he might open a special bottle or two tonight. One of these beggars, I think the bigger male, is quite probably his stock killer."
And so, they hastened to get the spotted cats into the back of the cars and departed the bait tree, driving slowly and carefully to avoid an accident in the dark. As they went, Finn offered Marguerite and Geoff bottles of ginger ale, some of Ned's stash of the Canada Dry brand that he had insisted on bringing. (Note: Canada Dry has made ginger ale from 1907.)
Marguerite, thirsty, accepted a bottle, but said, "Finny, I had hoped that you might provide champagne. I think my little feat warrants that. But this at least has bubbles."
The only response was a loud, frightening roar from a male lion, now stalking around the ground that they had just left. Marguerite shuddered and replaced the fired cartridges in her .303. "Damned Africa," she complained. "Everything bites. I do hope that dinner is ready. Being terrified gives me an appetite."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Back at the estate, they were warmly received, everyone admiring the remarkable bag of three leopards, a most unusual feat. Marguerite found herself hoisted aloft by their Africans, who sang praise songs for the huntress for several minutes until she could convince them to set her down. But Susan had news of her own.
"Ma'am," she addressed Finn, "Mynheer van der Meer and I have good news and bad news. The good news is that we, mainly I, shot that marauding caracal lynx. The bad news is, I hope that I didn't upset you and Lord Roxton in doing that, if you two were really counting on that, yourselves."
She was told not to worry; that if John and Finn wanted to shoot a caracal, they could probably still manage. And they admired the big (42 pound) rooikat, with Susan's .275 bullet having hit it through the lungs as it had been intercepted en route to the hen house.
Angus was jubilant, with the three leopards and the lynx all down on the same night. "My livestock will rest easier now," he proclaimed joyfully. "Well, have your skinners get busy on those trophies, and lets adjourn to the supper table and some fine wine!"
This met with universal approval, and they went in to clean up, enjoying the savory odors from the kitchen.
Once seated, the group exchanged news of the day, Susan telling how she had heard Hendrik van der Meer call for help after he'd seen a caracal from out of the window by his sick bed. He had gotten his pistol, a Luger (Parabellum; P-08) with a longer barrel than usual, it being a naval model with a six-inch (15cm) barrel and adjustable rear sight. The German Army model had only a four-inch (10cm) barrel and a fixed rear sight, like most guns not meant for target shooting. This one had come to him from a dead German sailor who had taken it from the arms room of a cruiser that had come up a river in Tanganyika in 1914, only to become stuck when the river sank below the expected level for that time of year. Moreover, the Royal Navy had learned of its presence and was patrolling the river mouth to prevent its escape. Eventually, British river monitor warships found the ship (SMS Konigsberg) and shelled it.
Faced with that situation, the German captain ordered his crew to take whatever they could salvage, abandon ship, and join Gen. von Lettow-Vorbeck's Schutztruppe ashore. In time, this sailor was one of an ill-fated group on their way to ambush a British camp when they were discovered by a South African patrol led by van der Meer. A fierce fight ensued, with all the Germans but four being killed. The Boer officer had taken the Luger as loot, intrigued with its longer barrel and nice balance. He already owned one of the regular Army model, and now, a decade after that war ended, he sometimes used the gun to shoot snakes or small game. He thought that if the caracal came closer to his open window, he could shoot it and save his friend Hardy any more loss of the lambs and chickens that the rooikat was taking. And it would restore his pride, for he was embarrassed to be an invalid at Hardy's expense and to accept the caretaking charity of his foreign friends who would soon depart.
He managed to cock the gun, but was still so weak from the lion's mauling that he found he couldn't hold it steady enough for an accurate shot as the cat passed perhaps fifty meters away. Seeing Susan as she came to ask if he needed anything, he signalled her to silence and hurriedly motioned for her to come look out the window. When she leaned over him to do so, he whispered in her ear about the cat. She saw immediately what was needed, and raced to her room for a rifle.
Armed, she fled out the back door, stalking quickly to a position where she could shoot the feline intruder as it crept toward the henhouse. This worked perfectly, the bullet taking the cat in the lungs as it turned to look toward her from nearly a hundred yards off.
Hardy and several of his African help had heard the shot and come running. To say that Angus was delighted was an understatement! He praised both Hendrik and Susan, hoping that this caracal was the one that had been such a nuisance. But a tracker from the safari who had seen the tracks of the cat compared those just left by the decedent and assured the gentleman farmer that Susan had indeed slain his intruder. An injured, splayed toe on a rear foot made the pug marks distinctive.
"And," concluded a pleased host, "I'm having that cat mounted for Susan at my expense. We'll ship it to her with your other trophies as soon as they're ready. And I'm giving Hendrik a bottle of my best brandy, of which he's rather fond."
The assembly applauded, Hendrik having limped in to eat at the table for the first time since his arrival. He used a cane, but was pleased not to be eating this meal in bed. Finn hugged Susan, making the blushing girl flush even more, but she was very proud not only of her accomplishment, but that it had so impressed her host and the Challengers. (Susan, after all, had a fairly advanced case of heroine worship of Finn.)
Lord Roxton lifted his glass and proposed a toast to Hendrik van der Meer and Susan Wilson, predator control team extraordinaire.
"I'll drink to that," said Ned Malone. To which his wife replied, "Oh, Neddy, you'd drink to anything." But she was laughing as they raised their glasses.
CHAPTER NINE
The talk soon turned to why there were three leopards at the bait tree, a most unusual event.
Roxton summed up what most of the men thought. "I rather fancy that the larger male was the original cat on that tree. It's consistent with the tracks we saw before the hunt began, and he was coming from the same direction as he had before. I think the other male was an interloper, who found the kill and was eating another cat's groceries. The female was either mated with one of the others, or was trying to get the one feeding to let her join him. By the by, I've wondered why she didn't just slink off before we shot her. I rather think it may be that she felt trapped between us and those approaching lions. Probably meant to go through us and into better cover, away from the lion pride. But she'd have mauled or killed anyone who was in her way. That was a very real charge!"
Geoff nodded. "I had a look at her when we got back. I think she was in estrus. She was indeed either looking for a mate or a meal, probably both. Likely was mated with the smaller male, who weighed 164 pounds when we got him on Angus's scales. Oh, Marguerite: your big male weighed 202 pounds, easily the largest leopard that I've seen, and I've been at this for a while." (Author's Note: the largest leopard of which I've found mention is 213 pounds.)
Hardy shrugged. "Bloody large leopard, I must say. I've farmed and hunted here for years, and agree that even the 164 pounder is quite large. The female, incidentally, went 124 pounds on my scales. I checked as you cleaned up for supper. All three cats are in absolutely top condition and are beautiful. Marguerite, you have a remarkable bag there. And a good story to go with it!"
Finn said softly, "And that caracal is big, too. Susan did very well with that matter. Hendrik, you have a keen eye. I don't miss getting him, given the circumstances. Susan, when we get home, I may come visit him mounted in your room. I love the looks of those cats, the ruddy or bay color, the long tufts on the ears."
Susan beamed and asked for more wine. Hardy cheerfully poured for her, a Chateau Petrus, from Pomerol in Bordeaux. It was one of the world's most expensive and superlative wines. Their host was evidently very impressed with the cats, and this was also a farewell dinner, as well as a celebration of the hunters' success.
That night, Marguerite seemed much more relaxed than before, and she and John did things in the privacy of their room which transcend the Teen Rating of this story. Let us just say that the Roxtons rested well that night, having expended considerable energy in other activities before sleeping. Much the same can be said of the other couples, save that Holly Blacklaws was worried about Geoff's foot and insisted on cleaning the claw wounds again and bandaging the foot before she let him partake of her favors. But she then made up for it, telling him that he was her hero, as he had been since rescuing her from Khalid's slavers two years before. Like Finn, Holly somewhat worshipped her mate, both men seeming a little larger than life to their ladies. And both made sure that their men knew the extent of their affections on this night when three leopards had been dispatched without any serious human injuries! But Geoff decided to accept Challenger's offer of his antibiotic pills.
Following a sumptuous breakfast the next morning, the safari finished packing, their trophies being destined for processing and mounting at Zimmerman's taxidermy studios in Nairobi.
The group spent several days in Nairobi, shopping and seeing their gear loaded for transport to their ship in Mombasa harbor, after which they boarded the S.S. Prince of Wales for the journey home. Well, for the Malones, to their friends' homes, where they would stay three more weeks before taking ship for Brazil and the Plateau.
Roxton treated the others to a final dinner at the New Stanley Hotel, with the Hamiltons and the Blacklaws couples saddened to bid their friends farewell at the docks the next morning.
"We'll do it again," promised Marguerite. "I thought that I should give you advance warning, in case you want to seek absolution for your sins before I take you in harm's way once more."
Diana laughed. "I daresay that all of the sins aren't ours, Countess. But you'll be welcome back. Kwaheri." She used the Swahili term for farewell automatically, as many Kenya residents did.
As the ship was towed out to sea, Susan Wilson stood on the stern, looking back as Africa receded. She had mixed feelings, having enjoyed the safari, but remembering, too, the days of terror during which she had been held as a slave girl by Khalid's men two years ago. She decided that this was her last look at a land where she had lived for some ten years. On her pay, she was unlikely to see this coast again. The breeze came up as the ship increased speed, and she put on her jacket. Like the other women, she was wearing a white dress and had a matching coat and hat. She held a hand to her skirt, lest the wind raise it beyond modest levels.
"Penny for your thoughts?" came Lady Roxton's unexpected voice. Susan had not heard Marguerite arrive, with the wind and the noise of the ship's engines.
"Oh, Lady Roxton! I was just thinking that I'll never see this country again, and thinking about what all it's meant to me. After my father drank himself to death, I was pretty lonely, then Khalid captured me and I still have nightmares about that. Had you not escaped with Diana and led the others to save us, Holly, Veronica, and I would all be sluts serving in Amarrah now, and the Sultan would never have been deposed and that awful nation made a British Protectorate! Isn't it funny how small events can change the world? But I''ll miss things here, too. I loved being on this safari and seeing old friends. Every time I look at the mounted animals that I took on this trip, it'll mean the world to me. You've all been so nice to me, especially the Challengers. I'd better go find Mrs. Challenger and see if she needs me. Are we eating together tonight, or in our rooms, do you know?"
"Actually," sad Marguerite, "I was coming to tell you that the captain has asked for us to join him at his table tonight. I think it's because he wants to be seen with John and me and the Challengers. We're rich and famous and John and I have titles, after all. We're frequent targets for social climbers. The other possibility is that he wants to have you and the other blondes present. And I'm serious, Susan. You've been turning male heads since we came aboard. I've seen several ladies give their husbands fairly venomous looks, and you got your share of those, too. But whichever the cause, we're due to dine with the big man with the gold stripes on his epaulets. I think it's safe to say that they'll set a good table. Look: on a different note, why don't you let me take you to get a few dresses made the next time we're both in London? I quite like you, and if anything ever happens to George and Finn, you'd have a job with me. I'm thinking of opening a small but exclusive jewelry shop in the West End, and I think you might do very well as a manager there. But the dresses are just to give you a decent wardrobe, which you deserve. I've discussed it with Finn, and she'll join us."
"Oh, ma'am!" replied a startled Susan, "I don't deserve that! You already paid off my .375 H&H rifle! That means the world to me. I'd be embarrassed to accept other expensive gifts that I haven't earned."
"No worries, Susan. You've earned a few things by being yourself and a fine companion for my best friend as well as being her secretary. You remind me a little of myself at your age, although you're nicer. And you shot a lioness that was about to ruin my afternoon and kill Finn as well. That carried a lot of weight with me. Now, run get ready and join John and me in our room at six and we'll all go into the dining room together. Ask Finny what to wear. By the way, I don't think you've seen the last of Africa. We'll discuss that later." And Lady Roxton hailed down the Malones across the deck and rushed to deliver the dinner message to them.
Dinner, in fact, went splendidly. If the captain had social climbing in mind,he was subtle about it, and proved to be a chaming, witty host with a surprisingly wide menu on offer. And the Roxtons felt better after meeting the Duke and Duchess of Rutherford at the table. They were not the only titled couple present, and felt more relaxed for it.
In their cabin that night, Marguerite asked John whether he had accomplished all that he'd wanted on the safari and if he was surprised that she was willing to go again.
He leaned back in a chair and watched her brush her hair. "Not too surprised. I always knew that you were a glutton for punishment. Or at least, for adventure coupled with luxury. Diamonds don't always have to be the goal. I think this little shauri (Swahili for "affair") brought out a good side of you, and let you have more thrills than expected. Tell me, how was it when you realized that there were three leopards at the last hunt? Were you frightened too much at that charge that almost sent Geoff to the Happy Hunting Grounds? You know, leopards bounce from one human victim to another at times like that. A lion locks onto one target and does him or her to death before looking around to see who else's life he can take. The spotted devil rips up everyone he can reach in short order, whether each is mortally wounded, or not. Keeps people from getting a clean shot at him, I expect. Leopards are smart in that way."
"I was too busy to think," she admitted. "I just shot as fast and as well as I could. That female at the finale almost got me, too. Really, I'm probably quite mad to want to return. But I can't wait to see how Zimmerman uses a carved ivory cap to patch that big one's skull and mend the hide there. I want to show everyone we know that leopard, so big and so beautiful and so deadly and say, 'look, I killed this thing.' It makes me feel more fulilled as a person, to know that I was brave enough to deal with that situation. That I'm not just a countess now, living in indolent luxury with the man of most womens' dreams. Look appreciative at that last bit. Most men probably never receive such praise from their wives." She smirked.
Roxton smiled. "I bet that George does. He got himself a real deal when he married Finn. But I quite like being appreciated, too. Why don't you put away that brush and we'll turn off the lights and you can show me how much you appreciate me?"
Later, Marguerite woke and thought about the leopard charges. She shivered and clung to her sleeping husband. Then, she felt a sense of having faced mortal danger and acquitted herself well. She knew that John was very proud of her, and it mattered to see the awe in Susan's and Angus's faces when they heard the tale of the bait tree and what had happened there, at the edge of the light. She saw again in her mind's eye the big cat as it charged, then the smaller, equally determined female. She breathed deeply and knew the joy of having survived dreadful events and triumphed. Damn it, I really admire myself, she realized. That felt so good that she soon slept with a smile on her tired face, already planning the next safari as she lapsed into slumber.
The End