'Masa, beef done chop me.'
' Beef? What kind of beef? '
'Eh! Masa, I no savvay. 'E de bite too much, sah.'
I examined his hand and found that a chunk the size of a shilling had been neatly removed from the palm. I rendered primitive first-aid, and then went into the matter of the animal that had bitten him.
'Which side dis beef?'
"E dere dere for dat hole, sah,' said the wounded one, pointing at a cleft in the base of a large –rock.
'You no savvay what kind of beef?'
'No, sah,' he said aggrievedly, 'I no see um. I go come for dis place an' I see dat hole. I tink sometime dere go be beef for inside, so I done put ma hand for dere. Den dis beef 'e done chop me.'
'Whah! Dis man no get fear,' I said, turning to the other hunters, 'he no go look de hole first. He done put his hand for inside and beef done chop him.'
The other hunters giggled. I turned to the wounded man again.
'Ma friend, you done put your hand for dish ole, eh? Now, sometimes you go find snake for dis kind of place, no be so? If snake done chop you what you go do?'
'I no savvay, Masa,' he said, grinning.
'I no want dead hunter man, ma friend, so you no go do dis sort of foolish thing again, you hear?'
'I hear, sah.'
'Allright. Now we go look dis beef that done chop you.'
Taking a torch from the collecting bag I crouched down by the hole and peered up it. In the torch beam a pair of small eyes glowed ruby red, and then a little, pointed, ginger-coloured face appeared round them, uttered a shrill, snarling screech, and disappeared into the gloom at the back of the hole.
'Ah!' said one of the hunters who had heard the noise, 'dis na bush dog. Dis beef 'e fierce too much, sah.'
Unfortunately, the pidgin English term 'bush dog' is used indiscriminately to describe a great variety of small mammals, few of which are even remotely related to dogs, so the hunter's remark left me none the wiser as to what sort of an animal it was. After some argument, we decided that the best way to get the beast to show itself was to light a fire outside the hole, and then blow smoke into it by fanning with a bunch of leaves. This we proceeded to do, having first hung a small net over the mouth of the hole. The first whiff of smoke had hardly drifted in amongst the rocks when the beast shot out of the hole and into the net with such force that it was torn from its moorings, and the animal rolled down the slope into the long grass, carrying the net with him. The dogs scrambled after him, barking uproariously with excitement, and we followed close on their heels, yelling threats as to what punishment they would receive if they harmed the quarry. However, the beast hardly needed our help, for he was perfectly capable of looking after himself, as we soon found out.
He shook himself free of the folds of netting, and stood up on his hind legs, revealing himself as a slim ginger mongoose, about the size of a stoat. He stood there, swaying slightly from side to side, his mouth wide open, uttering the shrillest and most ear-piercing shrieks I have ever heard from an animal of that size. The dogs pulled up short and surveyed him in consternation as he swayed and shrieked before them; one, slightly braver than the rest, moved forward gingerly and sniffed at this strange creature. This was obviously what the mongoose had been waiting for; he dropped flat in the grass and slid forward like a snake, disappearing among the long grass stalks, and then suddenly reappearing in between the feet of our noble pack, where he proceeded to whirl round like a top, biting at every paw and leg in sight, and keeping up an incessant yarring scream as he did so. The dogs did their best to avoid his jaws, but they were at a disadvantage, for the long grass hid his approach, and all they could do was leap wildly in the air. Then, suddenly, their courage failed them, and they all turned tail and fled up the hill again, leaving the mongoose standing on his hind legs in the field of battle, panting slightly, but still able to screech taunts at their retreating tails.
The pack having thus been vanquished, it was left to us to try to capture this fierce, if diminutive, adversary. This we accomplished more easily than I had thought possible: I attracted his attention, and then got him to attack a canvas collecting bag, and while he was busily engaged in biting this, one of the hunters crept round behind him and threw a net over him. During the time we were disentangling the mongoose from the net and getting him into a bag, he nearly deafened us with his screams of rage, and he kept up this ghastly noise all the way home, though mercifully it was slightly muffled by the thick canvas. He did not stop until, on reaching Bafut, I tipped him into a large cage and threw in a gory chicken's head. He settled down to eat this in a very philosophical manner, and soon finished it. After that he remained silent, except when he caught sight of anyone, and then he would rush to the bars and start to scream abuse at them. It became so nerve-racking in the end that I was forced to cover the front of his cage with a bit of sacking until he had become more used to human company. Three days later I heard those familiar screeches echoing down the road, and long before the native hunter appeared hi sight I knew that another Dwarf Mongoose was being brought in. I was pleased to find that this second one was a young female, so I put her in with the one we had already captured. This was rather unwise of me, for they took to screaming in chorus, each trying to outdo the other, until the noise was as soothing as a knife drawn sideways across a plate, magnified several thousand times.
On arrival back at Bafut after my first day out with the Beagles, I received a note from the Fon asking me to go over to his house for a drink and to give him any hunting news there might be, so when I had eaten and changed I set off across the great courtyard and presently came to the Fon's little villa. He was seated on the veranda, holding a bottle of gin up to the light to see what the contents were.
'Ah, ma friend!’ he said, 'you done come? You done have good hunting for bush?'
'Yes,' I said, taking the chair he offered, 'hunter man for Bafut savvay catch fine beef. We done catch three beef
'Foine, foine,' said the Fon, pouring out five fingers of gin into a glass and handing it to me. You go stay here small time you go get plenty beef. I go tell all ma peoples.'
'Na so. I think Bafut people savvay catch beef pass all people for Cameroons.'
'Na true, na true,' said the Fon delightedly; 'you speak true, ma friend.'
We raised our glasses, chinked them together, beamed at one another, and then drank deeply. The Fon filled up the glasses again, and then sent one of his numerous retinue in search of a fresh bottle. By the time we had worked our way through most of this bottle we had mellowed considerably, and the Fon turned to me:
'You like musica?' he inquired.
'Yes, too much,' I said, truthfully, for I had heard that the Fon possessed a band of more than usual skill.
'Good! We go have some musica,' he said, and issued a terse command to one of his servants.
Presently the band filed into the compound below the veranda, and to my surprise it consisted of about twenty of the Fon's wives, all naked except for meagre loin-cloths. They were armed with a tremendous variety of drums, ranging from one the size of a small saucepan to the great deep-bellied specimens that required two people to carry them; there were also wooden and bamboo flutes that had a curious sweetness of tone, and large bamboo boxes filled with dried maize that gave forth a wonderful rustling rattle when shaken. But the most curious instrument in the band was a wooden pipe about four feet long. This was held upright, one end resting on the ground, and blown into in a special way, producing a deep, vibrating noise that was quite astonishing, for it was the sort of sound you would expect to come only from a lavatory with exceptional acoustics.