Somehow The Distance Across That Flat Did Not Seem Quite As
Tremendous As At First.
Finally I picked up the shotgun and
sauntered across to investigate.
The cause of action I soon
determined. The owner of that rape field turned out to be an
emaciated, gray-haired but spry old savage. He was armed with a
spear; and at the moment his chief business in life seemed to be
chasing a large flock of white birds off his grain. Since he had
no assistance, and since the birds held his spear in justifiable
contempt as a fowling piece, he was getting much exercise and few
results. The birds gave way before his direct charge, flopped
over to the other side, and continued their meal. They had
already occasioned considerable damage; the rape heads were bent
and destroyed for a space of perhaps ten feet from the outer edge
of the field. As this grain probably constituted the old man's food supply
for a season, I did not wonder at the vehemence with which he shook
his spear at his enemies, nor the apparent flavour of his language,
though I did marvel at his physical endurance. As for the birds,
they had become cynical and impudent; they barely fluttered out
of the way.
I halted the old gentleman and hastened to explain that I was
neither a pirate, a robber, nor an oppressor of the poor. This as
counter-check to his tendency to flee, leaving me in sole charge.
He understood a little Swahili, and talked a few words of
something he intended for that language.
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