"Get up, you idiot!" I shouted, "and let us look for the others. This
is the end of your folly in making me attack a herd of buffalo in reeds.
Get up. Am I to stop here till I choke?"
"Do you mean to tell me that I have no mortal wound, Macumazahn?" he
asked, with a return of cheerfulness, accepting the castigation in good
part, for he was not one who bore malice. "Oh, I am glad to hear it, for
now I shall live to make those cowards who fired the reeds sorry that
they are not dead; also to finish off that wild beast, for I hit him,
Macumazahn, I hit him."
"I don't know whether you hit him; I know he hit you," I replied, as I
shoved him off the rock and ran towards the tilted tree where I had last
seen Scowl.
Here I beheld another strange sight. Scowl was still seated in the
eagle's nest that he shared with two nearly fledged young birds, one of
which, having been injured, was uttering piteous cries. Nor did it cry
in vain, for its parents, which were of that great variety of kite that
the Boers call "lammefange", or lamb-lifters, had just arrived to its
assistance, and were giving their new nestling, Scowl, the best doing
that man ever received at the beak and claws of feathered kind. Seen
through those rushing smoke wreaths, the combat looked perfectly
titanic; also it was one of the noisiest to which I ever listened, for
I don't know which shrieked the more loudly, the infuriated eagles or
their victim.
Seeing how things stood, I burst into a roar of laughter, and just then
Scowl grabbed the leg of the male bird, that was planted in his breast
while it removed tufts of his wool with its hooked beak, and leapt
boldly from the nest, which had become too hot to hold him. The eagle's
outspread wings broke his fall, for they acted as a parachute; and so
did Umbezi, upon whom he chanced to land. Springing from the prostrate
shape of the chief, who now had a bruise in front to match that behind,
Scowl, covered with pecks and scratches, ran like a lamp-lighter,
leaving me to collect my second gun, which he had dropped at the bottom
of the tree, but fortunately without injuring it. The Kafirs
gave him another name after that encounter, which meant
"He-who-fights-birds-and-gets-the-worst-of-it."
Well, we escaped from the line of the smoke, a dishevelled trio--indeed,
Umbezi had nothing left on him except his head ring--and shouted for the
others, if perchance they had not been trodden to death in the rush. The
first to arrive was Saduko, who looked quite calm and untroubled, but
stared at us in astonishment, and asked coolly what we had been doing
to get in such a state. I replied in appropriate language, and asked in
turn how he had managed to remain so nicely dressed.