'Careful, Masa,' the hunter warned; 'na bad beef dat. 'E get power too much.'
'You done get rope for 'e foot?' I asked, and he nodded.
I unwound the last bit of cord, and then slowly opened the sack and peered inside.
Glaring at me was a face of such beauty that I gasped. The fur was short, smooth, and the rich golden-brown of wild honey. The pointed ears were flattened close to the skull, and the upper lip was drawn back in a series of fine ripples from milk-white teeth and pink gums. But it was the eyes I noticed more than anything else: large, and set at a slight slant in the golden face, they stared up at me with a look of such cold fury that I was thankful the animal's feet were tied. They were green, the green of leaves under ice, and they glittered like mica in the evening sun. For a second we stared at each other, then the Golden Cat drew back her lips even farther away from her gums, opened her mouth and gave another of those loud and frightening cries. Hastily I tied the sack up again, for I did not know if her bonds were really strong or not, and, judging by her eyes, she would not deal with me very kindly if she got free.
' You like? ' asked the Fon.
' Wah! I like dis beef too much' I replied.
We carried the precious sack up on to the veranda, and I hastily turned a specimen out of the largest and strongest cage I had. Then we emptied the Golden Cat gently out of the sack and rolled her inside, shutting and bolting the door. She lay on her side, hissing and snarling, but unable to move, for her front and back legs were neatly tied together with strong raffia-like cord. By fixing a knife to the end of a stick I managed to saw through these cords, and as they fell away she got to her feet in one smooth movement, leapt at the bars, stuck a fat golden paw through, and took a swipe at my face. I drew back only just in time,
'Aha 1' said the Fon, chuckling,' dis beef get angry too much.'
''E fit chop man time no dere,' said the hunter.
''E get power,' agreed the Fon, nodding, ''e get plenty power for 'e foot. You go watch um, my friend, less 'e go wound you.'
I sent down to the kitchen for a small chicken, and this, freshly killed and warm, I dangled near the bars of the cage. A golden paw again shot out between the bars, white claws buried themselves in the fowl and it was jerked up against the bars. Leaning forward, the cat got a grip on the neck of the bird, and with one quick heave the entire fowl vanished into the cage, and clouds of feathers started to pour out from between the bars as the Golden Cat began to feed. Reverently I covered the front of the cage with a sack and we left her in peace to enjoy her meal.
'How you done catch dis beef?' I asked the hunter. He gave a grin and wiggled his toes with embarrassment.
'You no de hear?' asked the Fon, 'you no get mouth? Speak now!'
'Masa,' began the man, scratching his stomach, 'de Fon done tell me Masa want dis kind of beef too much, an' so three days I done go for bush, I look um. I done walka, walka, I done tire too much, but I never see dis beef. Yesterday, for evening time, dis bushcat 'e done come softly for my farm, an' 'e done chop three chicken. Dis morning I see 'e foot for de mud, an' I done follow for bush. Far too much I done follow um, Masa, an' den, for some big hill, I done see um.'
The Fon shifted in his chair and fixed the man with a glittering eye.
'You speak true?' he asked sternly.
'Yes, Masa,' protested the hunter, 'I speak true.'
'Good!' said the Fon.
'I done see dis bush cat,' the man went on; ''e done walka for dis big hill. Den 'e done go for some-place dere be rock too much. 'E done go for hole in de ground. I look dis hole, but man no fit pass, 'e tight too much. I done go back for my house an' I done bring fine clog and catchnet, den I go back for dis place. I done put catchnet for de hole, an' den I done make small fire an' put smoke for de hole.'
He paused and hopped on one leg, clicking his fingers.
'Wah! Dat beef fierce too much! When 'e done smell de smoke'e de hollar an' 'e de hollar, time nef dere. My dog dey de fear an' de yall done run. I de fear bushcat go catch me an' I done run also. Small time I hear de beef 'e hollar an' hollar, an' so I done go softly softly for look um. Wah! Masa, dat beef 'e run run for inside catchnet, an' decatchnet done hold um fine. When I see um for catchnet I no get fear again, an' so I done go an' tie 'e foot with rope, an' I done bring um one time for Masa.'
The man ended his story and stood watching us anxiously, twisting his short spear in both hands.
'My friend,' I told him, 'I tink you be fine hunter man, an' I go pay you good money for dis beef
'Na so, na so,' agreed the Fon, waving a lordly hand, 'dis man done make fine hunting for you.'
I paid him a handsome sum of money, and made him a present of several packets of cigarettes, and he went off grinning and ejaculating, 'Tank you, Masa, tank you," all the way down the steps and along the road until he was out of earshot. Then I turned to the Fon, who was sitting back watching me with a smug expression on his face.
'My friend, I tank you too much for dis ting you done do,' I said.
The Fon waved his hands deprecatingly.
'No, no, my friend, na small ting dis. It no be good ting if you go leave Bafut and you never get alldebeef you want. I sorry too much you do go leave. But, when you lookdis finebeef you go tink of Bafut, no be so?'
'Na true,' I said, 'and now, my friend, you go drink with me?'
' Foine, foine,' said the Fon.
As if to compensate for the dreariness of the early part of the day, the sunset was one of the finest I have ever seen. The sun sank down behind a grid of pale, elongated clouds, and as it sank, the clouds turned from white to pearly pink, and then flushed to crimson edged with gold. The sky itself was washed with the palest of blues and greens, smudged here and there with a touch of gold, with pale, trembling stars gaining strength as the world darkened. Presently the moon came up, blood-red at first, changing to yellow and then silver as she rose, turning the world a frosty silver, with shadows as black as charcoal.
The Fon and I sat drinking in the misty moonlight until it was late. Then he turned to me, pointing towards his villa.
'I tink sometime you like to dance,' he said, ' so I done tell um to make musica. You like we go dance before you leave, eh?'
'Yes, I like to dance,' I said.
The Fon lurched to his feet, and, leaning perilously over the veranda rail, he shouted an order to someone waiting below. In a short time a cluster of lights moved across the great courtyard, and the Fon's all-female band assembled in the road below and started to play. Soon they were joined by numerous others, including most of the council members. The Fon listened to the music for a bit, waving his hands and smiling, and then he got up and held out his hand to me.
'Come!' he said, ' we go dance, eh?'
'Foine, foine!' I mimicked him, and he crowed with glee.
We made our way across the moon-misty veranda to the head of the steps; the Fon draped a long arm over my shoulders, partly out of affection and partly for support, and we started to descend. Half-way down, my companion stopped to execute a short dance to the music. His foot got tangled up in his impressive robes, and, but for his firm grip round my neck he would have rolled down the steps into the road. As it was, we struggled there for a moment, swaying violently, as we tried to regain our balance; the crowd of wives, offspring, and councillors gave a great gasp of horror and consternation at the sight of their lord in such peril, and the band stopped playing.