Eagle in the Sky - Smith Wilbur - Страница 61

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The only excuse for violence is to protect that which belongs to you. He

banked steeply away and lined up for his approach to the landing-strip

at Jabulani.

Conrad Berg called again to sample the Old Buck gin, and to tell David

that his application to have Jabulani declared a private nature reserve

had been approved by the Board and that the necessary documentation

would soon be ready for signature.  Do you want me to pull the fence out

now.  'No, David answered grimly.  Let it stand.  I don't want Akkers

frightened off.  Ja, Conrad agreed heavily.  We have got to get him.  He

called Zulu to him and examined the scar that was ridged and shaped like

forked lightning across the pup's belly.  The bastard, 'he muttered, and

then glanced guiltily at Debra.

Sorry, Mrs. Morgan.  I I couldn't agree more, Mr. Berg, she said softly,

and Zulu watched her lips attentively when she spoke, his head cocked to

one side.

Like all young things, he had healed cleanly and quickly.

The morula grove that ran thickly along the base of

the hills about the String of Pearls came -into flower.

The holes were straight and sturdy, each crowned with a fully rounded,

many-branched head of dense foliage, and the red flowers made a royal

show.

Almost daily David and Debra would wander together through the groves,

down the rude track to the pools, and Zulu regained his strength on

these leisurely strolls which always culminated in a swim and a lusty

shaking off of water droplets, usually on to the nearest bystander.

Then the green plum-shaped fruits that covered the female marulas

thickly began to turn yellow as they ripened, and their yeasty smell was

heavy on the warm evening breeze.

The herd came up from the Sabi, forsaking the lush reed beds for the

promise of the morula harvest.  They were led by two old bulls, who for

forty years had made the annual pilgrimage to the String of Pearls, and

there were fifteen breeding cows with calves running at heel and as many

adolescents.

They moved up slowly from the south, feeding spread out, sailing like

ghostly grey galleons through the open bush, overloaded bellies

rumbling.  Occasionally a tall tree would catch the attention of one of

the bulls and he would place his forehead upon the thick trunk and,

swaying rhythmically as he built up momentum, he would strain suddenly

and bring it crackling and crashing down.  A few mouthfuls of the tender

tip leaves would satisfy him, or he might strip the bark and stuff it

Untidily into his mouth before moving on northwards.

When they reached Conrad Berg's fence the two bulls moved forward and

examined it, standing shoulder to shoulder as though in consultation,

fanning their great grey ears, and every few minutes picking up a large

pinch of sand in their trunks to throw over their own backs against the

worrisome attention of the stinging flies.

In forty years they had travelled, and knew exactly all the boundaries

of their reserve.  As they stood there contemplating the game fence, it

was as though they were fully aware that its destruction would be a

criminal act, and injurious to their reputations and good standing.

Conrad Berg was deadly serious when he discussed his elephants sense of

right and wrong with David.  He spoke of them like schoolboys who had to

be placed on good behaviour, and disciplined when they transgressed.

The Discipline might take the form of driving, darting with drugs, or

formal execution with a heavy rifle.  This ultimate punishment was

reserved for the incorrigibles who raided cultivated crops, chased

motor-cars or otherwise endangered human life.

Sorely tempted, the two old bulls left the fence and ambled back to the

breeding herd that waited patiently for their decision amongst the thorn

trees.  For three days the herd drifted back and forth along the fence,

feeding and resting and waiting, then suddenly the wind turned westerly

and it came to them laden with the thick, cloyingly sweet smell of the

morula berries.

David parked the Land-Rover on the firebreak road and laughed with

delight.

So much for Connie's fence!  " For reasons of pachyderm prestige, or

perhaps merely for the mischievous delight of destruction, no adult

elephant would accept the breach made by another.

Each of them had selected his own fence pole, hard wood uprights

embedded in concrete, and had effortlessly snapped it off level with the

ground.  Over a length of a mile the fence was flattened, and the wire

mesh lay across the firebreak.

Each elephant had used his broken pole like a tightrope, to avoid

treading on the sharp points of the barbed wire.  Then once across the

fence they had streamed in a tight bunch down to the pools to spend a

night in feasting, an elephantine gorge on the yellow berries, which

ended at dawn when they had bunched up into close order and dashed back

across the ruined fence into the safety of the Park, perhaps pursued by

guilt and remorse and hoping that Conrad Berg would lay the blame on

some other herd.

However, the downed fence provided ready access for many others who had

long hankered after the sweet untouched grazing and deep water holes.

Ugly little blue wildebeest with monstrous heads, absurdly warlike manes

and curved horns in imitation of the mighty buffalo.  Clowns of the

bush, they capered with glee and chased each other in circles.  Their

companions the zebra were more dignified, ignoring their antics, and

trotted in businesslike fashion down to the pools.  Their rumps were

striped and glossy and plump, their heads up and ears pricked.

Conrad Berg met David at the remains of his fence, climbing out of his

own truck and picking his way carefully over the wire.  Sam, the African

ranger, followed him.

Conrad shook his head as he surveyed the destruction, chuckling

ruefully.

It's old Mahommed and his pal One-Eye, I'd know that spoor anywhere.

They just couldn't help themselves, the bastards - He glanced quickly at

Debra in the Land-Rover.

That's perfectly all right, Mr. Berg, she forestalled his apology.

Sam had been casting back and forth along the soft break road and now he

came to where they stood.

Hello, Sam, David greeted him.  It had taken a lot of persuasion to get

Sam to accept that this terribly disfigured face belonged to the young

nkosi David who he had taught to track, and shoot and rob a wild beehive

without destroying the bees.

Sam saluted David with a flourish.  He took his uniform very seriously

and conducted himself like a guardsman now.  It was difficult to tell

his age, for he had the broad smooth moonface of the Nguni, the

aristocratic warrior tribes of Africa, but there was a frosting of

purest white on the close-curled hair of his temples under the slouch

hat, and David knew he had worked at Jabulani for forty years before

leaving.  The man must be approaching sixty years of age.

Quickly he made his report to Conrad, describing the animals and the

numbers which had crossed into Jabulani.

There is also a herd of buffalo, forty-three of them, Sam spoke in

simple Zulu that David could still follow.  They are the ones who drank

before Ripape Dam near Hlangulene.  That will bring Akkers running, the

sirloin of a young buffalo makes the finest biltong there is, Conrad

observed dryly.

How long will it be before he knows the fence is down?  David asked, and

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