FOWLING AND FISHING.
The tents, which were made of light cloth intended to keep off the night dews rather than to afford warmth, were soon pitched, fires were lighted with fuel that had been brought with them in order to save time in searching for it, and Rabah went off to search for fish and fowl. He returned in half an hour with a peasant carrying four ducks and several fine fish.
“We shall do now,” he said; “with these and the stag our larder is complete. Everything but meat we have brought with us.”
Chebron, although he had kept on bravely, was fatigued with his walk and was glad to throw himself down on the sand and enjoy the prospect, which to him was a new one, for he had never before seen so wide an expanse of water.
When on the top of the hill he had made out a faint dark line in the distance, and this Rabah told him was the bank of sand that separated the lake from the Great Sea. Now from his present position this was invisible, and nothing but a wide expanse of water stretching away until it seemed to touch the sky met his view. Here and there it was dotted with dark patches which were, Rabah told him, clumps of waterfowl, and in the shallow water near the margin, which was but a quarter of a mile away, he could see vast numbers of wading birds, white cranes, and white and black ibises, while numbers of other waterfowl, looking like black specks, moved about briskly among them.
Sometimes with loud cries a number would rise on the wing, and either make off in a straight line across the water or circle round and settle again when they found that their alarm was groundless.
“It is lovely, is it not?” he exclaimed to Amuba, who was standing beside him leaning on his bow and looking over the water.
Amuba did not reply immediately, and Chebron looking up saw that there were tears on his cheeks.
“What is it, Amuba?” he asked anxiously.
“It is nothing, Chebron; but the sight of this wide water takes my thoughts homeward. Our city stood on a sea like this, not so large as they say is this Great Sea we are looking at, but far too large for the eye to see across, and it was just such a view as this that I looked upon daily from the walls of our palace, save that the shores were higher.”
“Maybe you will see it again some day, Amuba,” Chebron said gently.
Amuba shook his head.
“I fear the chances are small indeed, Chebron. Jethro and I have talked it over hundreds of times, and on our route hither we had determined that if we fell into the hands of harsh masters, we would at all hazards try some day to make our escape; but the journey is long and would lie through countries subject to Egypt. The people of the land to be passed over speak languages strange to us, and it would be well-nigh impossible to make the journey in safety. Still we would have tried it. As it is, we are well contented with our lot, and should be mad indeed to forsake it on the slender chances of finding our way back to the land of the Rebu, where, indeed, even if we reached it, I might not be well received, for who knows what king may now be reigning there?”
“And if you could get away and were sure of arriving there safely, would you exchange all the comforts of a civilized country like Egypt for a life such as you have described to me among your own people?”
“There can be no doubt, Chebron, that your life here is far more luxurious and that you are far more civilized than the Rebu. By the side of your palaces our houses are but huts. We are ignorant even of reading and writing. A pile of rushes for our beds and a rough table and stools constitute our furniture; but, perhaps, after all one is not really happier for all the things you have. You may have more enjoyments, but you have greater cares. I suppose every man loves his own country best, but I do not think that we can love ours as much as you do. In the first place, we have been settled there but a few generations, large numbers of our people constantly moving west, either by themselves or joining with one of the peoples who push past us from the far East; beside, wherever we went we should take our country with us, build houses like those we left behind, live by the chase or fishing in one place as another, while the Egyptians could nowhere find a country like Egypt. I suppose it is the people more than the country, the familiar language, and the familiar faces and ways. I grant freely that the Egyptians are a far greater people than we, more powerful, more learned, the masters of many arts, the owners of many comforts and luxuries, and yet one longs sometimes for one’s free life among the Rebu.”
“One thing is, Amuba, you were a prince there and you are not here. Had you been but a common man, born to labor, to toil, or to fight at the bidding of your king, you might perhaps find that the life even of an Egyptian peasant is easier and more pleasant than yours was.”
“That may be,” Amuba said thoughtfully, “and yet I think that the very poorest among us was far freer and more independent than the richest of your Egyptian peasants. He did not grovel on the ground when the king passed along. It was open to him if he was braver than his fellows to rise in rank. He could fish, or hunt, or till the ground, or fashion arms as he chose; his life was not tied down by usage or custom. He was a man, a poor one, perhaps—a half-savage one, if you will—but he was a man, while your Egyptian peasants, free as they may be in name, are the very slaves of law and custom. But I see that the meal is ready, and I have a grand appetite.”
“So have I, Amuba. It is almost worth while walking a long way for the sake of the appetite one gets at the end.”
The meal was an excellent one. One of the slaves who had been brought was an adept at cooking, and fish, birds, and venison were alike excellent, and for once the vegetables that formed so large a portion of the ordinary Egyptian repast were neglected.
“What are we going to do to-morrow, Rabah?” Chebron asked after the meal was concluded.
“I have arranged for to-morrow, if such is your pleasure, my lord, that you shall go fowling. A boat will take you along the lake to a point about three miles off where the best sport is to be had; then when the day is over it will carry you on another eight miles to the place I spoke to you of where good sport was to be obtained. I shall meet you on your landing there, and will have everything in readiness for you.”
“That will do well,” Chebron said. “Amuba and Jethro, you will, of course, come with me.”
As soon as it was daylight Rabah led Chebron down to the lake, and the lad with Amuba and Jethro entered the boat, which was constructed of rushes covered with pitch and drew only two or three inches of water. Two men with long poles were already in the boat; they were fowlers by profession, and skilled in all the various devices by which the waterfowl were captured. They had, during the night, been preparing the boat for the expedition by fastening rushes all round it; the lower ends of these dipped into the water, the upper ends were six feet above it, and the rushes were so thickly placed together as to form an impenetrable screen.
The boat was square at the stern, and here only was there an opening a few inches wide in the rushes to enable the boatman standing there to propel the boat with his pole. One of the men took his station here, the other at the bow, where he peered through a little opening between the rushes, and directed his comrade in the stern as to the course he should take. In the bottom of the boat lay two cats who, knowing that their part was presently to come, watched all that was being done with an air of intelligent interest. A basket well stored with provisions, and a jar of wine, were placed on board, and the boat then pushed noiselessly off.
Parting the reeds with their fingers and peeping out, the boys saw that the boat was not making out into the deeper part of the lake, but was skirting the edge, keeping only a few yards out from the band of rushes at its margin.
“Do you keep this distance all the way?” Chebron asked the man with the pole.
The man nodded.
“As long as we are close to the rushes the waterfowl do not notice our approach, while were we to push out into the middle they might take the alarm; although we often do capture them in that way, but in that case we get to windward of the flock we want to reach, and then drift down slowly upon them, but we shall get more sport now by keeping close in. The birds are numerous, and you will soon be at work.”
In five minutes the man at the bow motioned his passengers that they were approaching a flock of waterfowl. Each of them took up his bow and arrows and stood in readiness, while the man in the stern used his pole even more quickly and silently than before. Presently at a signal from his comrades he ceased poling. All round the boat there were slight sounds—low contented quackings, and fluttering of wings, as the birds raised themselves and shook the water from their backs. Parting the rushes in front of them, the two lads and Jethro peeped through them.
They were right in the middle of a flock of wildfowl who were feeding without a thought of danger from the clump of rushes in their midst. The arrows were already in their notches, the rushes were parted a little further, and the three shafts were loosed. The twangs of the bows startled the ducks, and stopping feeding they gazed at the rushes with heads on one side. Three more arrows glanced out, but this time one of the birds aimed at was wounded only, and uttering a cry of pain and terror it flapped along the surface of the water.
Instantly, with wild cries of alarm, the whole flock arose, but before they had fairly settled in their flight, two more fell pierced with arrows. The cats had been standing on the alert, and as the cry of alarm was given leaped overboard from the stern, and proceeded to pick up the dead ducks, among which were included that which had at first flown away, for it had dropped in the water about fifty yards from the boat. A dozen times the same scene was repeated until some three score ducks and geese lay in the bottom of the boat. By this time the party had had enough of sport, and had indeed lost the greater part of their arrows, as all which failed to strike the bird aimed at went far down into the deep mud at the bottom and could not be recovered.
“Now let the men show us their skill with their throwing-sticks,” Chebron said. “You will see they will do better with them than we with our arrows.”
The men at once turned the boat’s head toward a patch of rushes growing from the shallow water a hundred yards out in the lake. Numbers of ducks and geese were feeding round it, and the whole rushes were in movement from those swimming and feeding among them, for the plants were just at that time in seed. The birds were too much occupied to mark the approach of this fresh clump of rushes. The men had removed the screen from the side of the boat furthest from the birds, and now stood in readiness, each holding half a dozen sticks about two feet long, made of curved and crooked wood.
When close to the birds the boat was swung round, and at once with deafening cries the birds rose; but as they did so the men with great rapidity hurled their sticks one after another among them, the last being directed at the birds which, feeding among the rushes, were not able to rise as rapidly as their companions. The lads were astonished at the effect produced by these simple missiles. So closely packed were the birds that each stick, after striking one, whirled and twisted among the others, one missile frequently bringing down three or four birds.
The cats were in an instant at work. The flapping and noise was prodigious, for although many of the birds were killed outright, others struck in the wing or leg were but slightly injured. Some made off along the surface of the water, others succeeded in getting up and flying away, but the greater part were either killed by the cats, or knocked on the head by the poles of the two fowlers. Altogether twenty-seven birds were added to the store in the boat.
“That puts our arrows to shame altogether, Amuba,” Chebron said. “I have always heard that the fowlers on these lakes were very skilled with these throwing-sticks of theirs, but I could not have believed it possible that two men should in so short a space have effected such a slaughter; but then I had no idea of the enormous quantities of birds on these lakes.”
Jethro was examining the sticks which, as well as the ducks, had been retrieved by the cats.
“They are curious things,” he said to Amuba. “I was thinking before the men used them that straight sticks would be much better, and was wondering why they chose curved wood, but I have no doubt now the shape has something to do with it. You see, as the men threw they gave them a strong spinning motion. That seems the secret of their action. It was wonderful to see how they whirled about among the fowl, striking one on the head, another on the leg, another on the wing, until they happened to hit one plump on the body; that seemed to stop them. I am sure one of those sticks that I kept my eyes fixed on must have knocked down six birds. I will practice with these things, and if I ever get back home I will teach their use to our people. There are almost as many waterfowl on our sea as there are here. I have seen it almost black with them down at the southern end, where it is bordered by swamps and reed-covered marshes.”
“How do they catch them there, Jethro?” Chebron asked.
“They net them in decoys, and sometimes wade out among them with their heads hidden among floating boughs, and so get near enough to seize them by the legs and pull them under water; in that way a man will catch a score of them before their comrades are any the wiser.”
“We catch them the same way here,” one of the fowlers who had been listening remarked. “We weave little bowers just large enough for our heads and shoulders to go into, and leave three or four of them floating about for some days near the spot where we mean to work. The wild fowl get accustomed to them, and after that we can easily go among them and capture numbers.”
“I should think fowling must be a good trade,” Chebron said.
“It is good enough at times,” the man replied; “but the ducks are not here all the year. The long-legged birds are always to be found here in numbers, but the ducks are uncertain, so are the geese. At certain times in the year they leave us altogether. Some say they go across the Great Sea to the north; others that they go far south into Nubia. Then even when they are here they are uncertain. Sometimes they are thick here, then again there is scarce one to be seen, and we hear they are swarming on the lakes further to the west. Of course the wading birds are of no use for food; so you see when the ducks and geese are scarce, we have a hard time of it. Then, again, even when we have got a boat-load we have a long way to take it to market, and when the weather is hot all may get spoiled before we can sell them; and the price is so low in these parts when the flocks are here that it is hard to lay by enough money to keep us and our families during the slack time. If the great cities Thebes and Memphis lay near to us, it would be different. They could consume all we could catch, and we should get better prices, but unless under very favorable circumstances there is no hope of the fowl keeping good during the long passage up the river to Thebes. In fact, were it not for our decoys we should starve. In these, of course, we take them alive, and send them in baskets to Thebes, and in that way get a fair price for them.”
“What sort of decoys do you use?” Jethro asked.
“Many kinds,” the man replied. “Sometimes we arch over the rushes, tie them together at the top so as to form long passages over little channels among the rushes; then we strew corn over the water, and place near the entrance ducks which are trained to swim about outside until a flock comes near; then they enter the passage feeding, and the others follow. There is a sort of door which they can push aside easily as they pass up, but cannot open on their return.”
“That is the sort of decoy they use in our country,” Jethro said.
“Another way,” the fowler went on, “is to choose a spot where the rushes form a thick screen twenty yards deep along the bank; then a light net two or three hundred feet long is pegged down on to the shore behind them, and thrown over the tops of the rushes, reaching to within a foot or two of the water. Here it is rolled up, so that when it is shaken out it will go down into the water. Then two men stand among the rushes at the ends of the net, while another goes out far on to the lake in a boat. When he sees a flock of ducks swimming near the shore he poles the boat toward them; not so rapidly as to frighten them into taking flight, but enough so to attract their attention and cause uneasiness. He goes backward and forward, gradually approaching the shore, and of course managing so as to drive them toward the point where the net is. When they are opposite this he closes in faster, and the ducks all swim in among the rushes. Directly they are in, the men at the ends of the net shake down the rolled-up part, and then the whole flock are prisoners. After that the fowlers have only to enter the rushes, and take them as they try to fly upward and are stopped by the net. With luck two or three catches can be made in a day, and a thousand ducks and sometimes double that number can be captured. Then they are put into flat baskets just high enough for them to stand in with their heads out through the openings at the top, and so put on board the boat and taken up the Nile.”
“Yes, I have often seen the baskets taken out of the boats,” Chebron said, “and thought how cruel it was to pack them so closely. But how do they feed them for they must often be a fortnight on the way?”
“The trader who has bought them of us and other fowlers waits until he has got enough together to freight a large craft—for it would not pay to work upon a small scale—accompanies them up the river, and feeds them regularly with little balls made of moistened flour, just in the same way that they do at the establishments in Upper Egypt, where they raise fowl and stuff them for the markets. If the boat is a large one, and is taking up forty or fifty thousand fowl, of course he takes two or three boys to help him, for it is no light matter to feed such a number, and each must have a little water as well as the meal. It seems strange to us here, where fowl are so abundant, that people should raise and feed them just as if they were bullocks. But I suppose it is true.”
“It is quite true,” Chebron replied. “Amuba and I went to one of the great breeding-farms two or three months ago. There are two sorts—one where they hatch, the other where they fat them. The one we went to embraced both branches, but this is unusual. From the hatching-places collectors go round to all the people who keep fowls for miles round and bring in eggs, and beside these they buy them from others at a greater distance. The eggs are placed on sand laid on the floor of a low chamber, and this is heated by means of flues from a fire underneath. It requires great care to keep the temperature exactly right; but of course men who pass their lives at this work can regulate it exactly, and know by the feel just what is the heat at which the eggs should be kept.
“There are eight or ten such chambers in the place we visited, so that every two or three days one or other of them hatches out and is ready for fresh eggs to be put down. The people who send the eggs come in at the proper time and receive each a number of chickens in proportion to the eggs they have sent, one chicken being given for each two eggs. Some hatchers give more, some less; what remain over are payment for their work; so you see they have to be very careful about the hatching. If they can hatch ninety chickens out of every hundred eggs, it pays them very well; but if, owing to the heat being too great or too little, only twenty or thirty out of every hundred are raised, they have to make good the loss. Of course they always put in a great many of the eggs they have themselves bought. They are thus able to give the right number to their customers even if the eggs have not turned out well.
“Those that remain after the proper number has been given to the farmers the breeders sell to them or to others, it being no part of their business to bring up the chickens. The fattening business is quite different. At these places there are long rows of little boxes piled up on each other into a wall five feet high. The door of each of these boxes has a hole in it through which the fowl can put its head, with a little sort of shutter that closes down on it. A fowl is placed in each box. Then the attendants go around two together; one carries a basket filled with little balls of meal, the other lifts the shutter, and as the fowl puts its head out catches it by the neck, makes it open its beak, and with his other hand pushes the ball of meal down its throat. They are so skillful that the operation takes scarce a moment; then they go on to the next, and so on down the long rows until they have fed the last of those under their charge. Then they begin again afresh.”
“Why do they keep them in the dark?” the fowler asked.
“They told us that they did it because in the dark they were not restless, and slept all the time between their meals. Then each time the flap is lifted they think it is daylight, and pop out their heads at once to see. In about ten days they get quite fat and plump, and are ready for market.”
“It seems a wonderful deal of trouble,” the fowler said. “But I suppose, as they have a fine market close at hand, and can get good prices, it pays them. It seems more reasonable to me than the hatching business. Why they should not let the fowls hatch their own eggs is more than I can imagine.”
“Fowls will lay a vastly greater number of eggs than they will hatch,” Chebron said. “A well-fed fowl should lay two hundred and fifty eggs in the year; and, left to herself, she will not hatch more than two broods of fifteen eggs in each. Thus, you see, as it pays the peasants much better to rear fowls than to sell eggs, it is to their profit to send their eggs to the hatching-places, and so to get a hundred and twenty-five chickens a year instead of thirty.”
“I suppose it does,” the fowler agreed. “But here we are, my lord, at the end of our journey. There is the point where we are to land, and your servant who hired us is standing there in readiness for you. I hope that you are satisfied with your day’s sport.”
Chebron said they had been greatly pleased, and in a few minutes the boat reached the landing-place, where Rabah was awaiting them. One of the fowlers, carrying a dozen of the finest fowl they had killed, accompanied them to the spot Rabah had chosen for the encampment. Like the last, it stood at the foot of the sandhills, a few hundred yards from the lake.
“Is the place where we are going to hunt near here?” was Chebron’s first question.
“No, my lord; it is two miles away. But, in accordance with your order last night, I have arranged for you to fish to-morrow. In the afternoon I will move the tents a mile nearer to the country where you will hunt, but it is best not to go too close, for near the edge of these great swamps the air is unhealthy to those who are not accustomed to it.”
“I long to get at the hunting,” Chebron said; “but it is better, as you say, to have the day’s fishing first, for the work would seem tame after the excitement of hunting the river-horse. We shall be glad of our dinner as soon as we can get it, for although we have done justice to the food you put on board, we are quite ready again. Twelve hours of this fresh air from the sea gives one the appetite of a hyena.”
“Everything is already in readiness, my lord. I thought it better not to wait for the game you brought home, which will do well to-morrow, and so purchased fish and fowl from the peasants. As we have seen your boat for the last two or three hours, we were able to calculate the time of your arrival, and thus have everything in readiness.”
The dinner was similar to that on the previous day, except that a hare took the place of the venison—a change for the better, as the hare was a delicacy much appreciated by the Egyptians. The following day was spent in fishing. For this purpose a long net was used, and the method was precisely similar to that in use in modern times. One end of the net was fastened to the shore, the net itself being coiled up in the boat. This was rowed out into the lake, the fishermen paying out the net as it went. A circuit was then made back to the shore, where the men seized the two ends of the net and hauled it to land, capturing the fish inclosed within its sweep. After seeing two or three hauls made, the lads went with Jethro on board the boat. They were provided by the fishermen with long two-pronged spears.
The boat was then quietly rowed along the edge of the rushes, where the water was deeper than usual. It was, however, so clear that they could see to the bottom, and with their spears they struck at the fish swimming there. At first they were uniformly unsuccessful, as they were ignorant that allowance must be made for diffraction, and were puzzled at finding that their spears instead of going straight down at the fish they struck at seemed to bend off at an angle at the water’s edge. The fishermen, however, explained to them that an allowance must be made for this, the allowance being all the greater the greater the distance the fish was from the boat, and that it was only when it lay precisely under them that they could strike directly at it. But even after being instructed in the matter they succeeded but poorly, and presently laid down their spears and contented themselves with watching their boatmen, who rarely failed in striking and bringing up the prey they aimed at.
Presently their attention was attracted to four boats, each containing from six to eight men. Two had come from either direction, and when they neared each other volleys of abuse were exchanged between their occupants.
“What is all this about?” Chebron asked as the two fishermen laid by their spears, and with faces full of excitement turned round to watch the boats.
“The boats come from two villages, my lord, between which at present there is a feud arising out of some fishing-nets that were carried away. They sent a regular challenge to each other a few days since, as is the custom here, and their champions are going to fight it out. You see the number of men on one side are equal to those on the other, and the boats are about the same size.”
Amuba and Jethro looked on with great interest, for they had seen painted on the walls representations of these fights between boatmen, which were of common occurrence, the Egyptians being a very combative race, and fierce feuds being often carried on for a long time between neighboring villages. The men were armed with poles some ten feet in length, and about an inch and a half in diameter, their favorite weapons on occasions of this kind. The boats had now come in close contact, and a furious battle at once commenced, the clattering of the sticks, the heavy thuds of the blows, and the shouts of the combatants creating a clamor that caused all the waterfowl within a circle of half a mile to fly screaming away across the lake. The men all used their heavy weapons with considerable ability, the greater part of the blows being warded off. Many, however, took effect, some of the combatants being knocked into the water, others fell prostrate in their boats, while some dropped their long staves after a disabling blow on the arm.
“It is marvelous that they do not all kill each other,” Jethro said. “Surely this shaving of the head, Amuba, which has always struck us as being very peculiar, has its uses, for it must tend to thicken the skull, for surely the heads of no other men could have borne such blows without being crushed like water-jars.”
That there was certainly some ground for Jethro’s supposition is proved by the fact that Herodotus, long afterward writing of the desperate conflicts between the villagers of Egypt, asserted that their skulls were thicker than those of any other people.
Most of the men who fell into the water scrambled back into the boats and renewed the fight, but some sank immediately and were seen no more. At last, when fully half the men on each side had been put hors de combat, four or five having been killed or drowned, the boats separated, no advantage resting with either party; and still shouting defiance and jeers at each other, the men poled in the direction of their respective villages.
“Are such desperate fights as these common?” Chebron asked the fishermen.
“Yes; there are often quarrels,” one of them replied, quietly resuming his fishing as if nothing out of the ordinary way had taken place. “If they are water-side villages their champions fight in boats, as you have seen; if not, equal parties meet at a spot halfway between the villages and decide it on foot. Sometimes they fight with short sticks, the hand being protected by a basket hilt, while on the left arm a piece of wood, extending from the elbow to the tips of the fingers, is fastened on by straps serving as a shield; but more usually they fight with the long pole, which we call the neboot.”
“It is a fine weapon,” Jethro said, “and they guard their heads with it admirably, sliding their hands far apart. If I were back again, Amuba, I should like to organize a regiment of men armed with those weapons. It would need that the part used as a guard should be covered with light iron to prevent a sword or ax from cutting through it; but with that addition they would make splendid weapons, and footmen armed with sword and shield would find it hard indeed to repel an assault by them.”
“The drawback would be,” Amuba observed, “that each man would require so much room to wield his weapon that they must stand far apart, and each would be opposed to three or four swordsmen in the enemy’s line.”
“That is true, Amuba, and you have certainly hit upon the weak point in the use of such a weapon; but for single combat, or the fighting of broken ranks, they would be grand. When we get back to Thebes if I can find any peasant who can instruct me in the use of these neboots I will certainly learn it.”
“You ought to make a fine player,” one of the fishermen said, looking at Jethro’s powerful figure. “I should not like a crack on the head from a neboot in your hands. But the sun is getting low, and we had best be moving to the point where you are to disembark.”
“We have had another capital day, Rabah,” Chebron said when they reached their new encampment. “I hope that the rest will turn out as successful.”
“I think that I can promise you that they will, my lord. I have been making inquiries among the villagers, and find that the swamp in the river bed abounds with hippopotami.”
“How do you hunt them—on foot?”
“No, my lord. There is enough water in the river bed for the flat boats made of bundles of rushes to pass up, while in many places are deep pools in which the animals lie during the heat of the day.”
“Are they ferocious animals?” Amuba asked. “I have never yet seen one; for though they say that they are common in the Upper Nile, as well as found in swamps like this at its mouth, there are none anywhere in the neighborhood of Thebes. I suppose that there is too much traffic for them, and that they are afraid of showing themselves in such water.”
“There would be no food for them,” Rabah said. “They are found only in swamps like this, or in places on the Upper Nile where the river is shallow and bordered with aquatic plants, on whose roots they principally live. They are timid creatures and are found only in little-frequented places. When struck they generally try to make their escape; for although occasionally they will rush with their enormous mouth open at a boat, tear it in pieces, and kill the hunter, this very seldom happens. As a rule they try only to fly.”
“They must be cowardly beasts!” Jethro said scornfully. “I would rather hunt an animal, be it ever so small, that will make a fight for its life. However, we shall see.”
Upon the following morning they started for the scene of action. An exclamation of surprise broke from them simultaneously when, on ascending a sandhill, they saw before them a plain a mile wide extending at their feet. It was covered with rushes and other aquatic plants, and extended south as far as the eye could see.
“For one month in the year,” Rabah said, “this is a river, for eleven it is little more than a swamp, though the shallower boats can make their way up it many miles. But a little water always finds its way down, either from the Nile itself or from the canals. It is one of the few places of Northern Egypt where the river-horse is still found, and none are allowed to hunt them unless they are of sufficient rank to obtain the permission of the governor of the province. The steward wrote for and obtained this as soon as he knew by letter from your father that you were accompanying him and would desire to have some sport.”
“Are there crocodiles there?” Amuba asked.
“Many,” Rabah replied, “although few are now found in the lakes. The people here are not like those of the Theban zone, who hold them in high respect—here they regard them as dangerous enemies, and kill them without mercy.”
HIPPOPOTAMUS AND CROCODILE.
Guided by Rabah the party now descended to the edge of the swamp. Here in the shallow water lay three boats, or rather rafts, constructed of bundles of bulrushes. They were turned up in front so as to form a sort of swan-necked bow, and in outline were exactly similar to the iron of modern skates. Upon each stood a native with a pole for pushing the rafts along, and three or four spears. These were of unusual shape, and the lads examined them with curiosity. They had broad short blades, and these were loosely attached to the shafts, so that when the animal was struck the shaft would drop out, leaving the head imbedded in its flesh. To the head was attached a cord which was wound up on a spindle passing through a handle.
“Those rafts do not look as if they would carry three,” Chebron said.
“They will do so at a push,” the man replied; “but they are better with two only.”
“I will stop onshore, with your permission, Chebron,” Jethro said. “I see there are a number of men here with ropes. I suppose they have something to do with the business, and I will accompany them.”
“The ropes are for hauling the beasts ashore after we have struck them.”
“Well, I will go and help pull them. I can do my share at that, and should be of no use on one of those little rafts; indeed, I think that my weight would bury it under the water.”
“We have been out this morning, my lord,” the boatman said, addressing Chebron, “and have found out that there is a river-horse lying in a pool a mile up the river. I think he is a large one and will give us good sport.”
Chebron and Amuba now took their places on the two rafts; and the men, laying down the spears and taking the poles, pushed off from the shore. Noiselessly they made their way among the rushes. Sometimes the channels were so narrow that the reeds almost brushed the rafts on both sides; then they opened out into wide pools, and here the water deepened so much that the poles could scarce touch the bottom. Not a word was spoken, as the men had warned them that the slightest noise would scare the hippopotami and cause them to sink to the bottom of the pools, where they would be difficult to capture. After half an hour’s poling they reached a pool larger than any that they had hitherto passed, and extending on one side almost to the bank of the river.
The man on his raft now signed to Chebron to take up one of the spears; but the lad shook his head and motioned to him to undertake the attack, for he felt that, ignorant as he was of the habits of the animal, it would be folly for him to engage in such an adventure. The man nodded, for he had indeed been doubting as to the course which the affair would take, for it needed a thrust with a very powerful arm to drive the spear through the thick hide of the hippopotamus. Amuba imitated Chebron’s example, preferring to be a spectator instead of an actor in this unknown sport.
For three or four minutes the boats lay motionless, then a blowing sound was heard, and the boatman pointed to what seemed to the boys two lumps of black mud projecting an inch or two above the water near the margin of the rushes. They could not have believed that these formed part of an animal but that slight ripples widening out on the glassy water showed that there had been a movement at the spot indicated. With a noiseless push Chebron’s hunter sent the boat in that direction, and then handed the end of the pole to Chebron, signing to him to push the boat back when he gave the signal.
When within ten yards of the two little black patches there was a sudden movement; they widened into an enormous head, and a huge beast rose to his feet, startled at the discovery he had just made that men were close at hand. In an instant the hunter hurled his spear with all his force. Tough as was the animal’s hide, the sharp head cut its way through. With a roar the beast plunged into the rushes, the shaft of the spear falling out of its socket as it did so, and the strong cord ran out rapidly from the reel held by the hunter. Presently the strain ceased. “He has laid down again in shelter,” the hunter said; “we will now follow him and give him a second spear.”
Pushing the rushes aside the boat was forced along until they again caught sight of the hippopotamus, that was standing up to its belly in water.
“Is he going to charge?” Chebron asked, grasping a spear.
“No, there is little chance of that. Should he do so and upset the boat, throw yourself among the rushes and lie there with only your face above water. I will divert his attention and come back and get you into the boat when he has made off.”
Another spear was thrown with good effect. There was a roar and a great splash. Chebron thought that the animal was upon them; but he turned off and dashed back to the pool where he had been first lying.
“I thought that was what he would do,” the hunter said. “They always seek shelter in the bottom of the deep pools; and here, you see, the water is not deep enough to cover him.”
The boat again followed the hippopotamus. Amuba was still on his raft on the pool.
“What has become of him?” Chebron asked as they passed beyond the rushes.
“He has sunk to the bottom of the pool,” Amuba replied. “He gave me a start, I can tell you. We heard him bursting through the rushes, and then he rushed out with his mouth open—a mouth like a cavern; and then, just as I thought he was going to charge us, he turned off and sank to the bottom of the pool.”
“How long will he lie there?” Chebron asked the hunter.
“A long time if he is left to himself, but we are going to stir him up.”
So saying he directed the boat toward the rushes nearest to the bank and pushed the boat through them.
“Oh, here you are, Jethro!” Chebron said, seeing the Rebu and the men he had accompanied standing on the bank.
“What has happened, Chebron—have you killed one of them? We heard a sort of roar and a great splashing.”
“We have not killed him, but there are two spear-heads sticking into him.”
The hunter handed the cords to the men and told them to pull steadily, but not hard enough to break the cords. Then he took from them the end of the rope they carried and poled back into the pool.
“Those cords are not strong enough to pull the great beast to the shore, are they?” Chebron asked.
“Oh, no, they would not move him; but by pulling on them it causes the spear-heads to give him pain, he gets uneasy, and rises to the surface in anger. Then, you see, I throw this noose over his head, and they can pull upon that.”
In two or three minutes the animal’s head appeared above the water. The instant it did so the hunter threw the noose. The aim was correct, and with a jerk he tightened it round the neck.
“Now pull!” he shouted.
The peasants pulled, and gradually the hippopotamus was drawn toward the bank, although struggling to swim in the opposite direction.
As soon, however, as he reached the shallow water and his feet touched the ground he threw his whole weight upon the rope. The peasants were thrown to the ground and the rope dragged through their fingers as the hippopotamus again made his way to the bottom of the pool. The peasants regained their feet and pulled on the rope and cords. Again the hippopotamus rose and was dragged to the shallow, only to break away again. For eight or ten times this happened.
“He is getting tired now,” the hunter said. “Next time or the time after they will get him on shore. We will land then and attack him with spears and arrows.”
The hippopotamus was indeed exhausted, and allowed itself to be dragged ashore at the next effort without opposition. As soon as it did so he was attacked with spears by the hunters, Jethro, and the boys. The latter found that they were unable to drive their weapons through the thick skin, and betook themselves to their bows and arrows. The hunters, however, knew the points at which the skin was thinnest, and drove their spears deep into the animal just behind the fore leg, while the boys shot their arrows at its mouth. Another noose had been thrown over its head as it issued from the water, and the peasants pulling on the ropes prevented it from charging. Three or four more thrusts were given from the hunters; then one of the spears touched a vital part—the hippopotamus sank on its knees and rolled over dead.
The peasants sent up a shout of joy, for the flesh of the hippopotamus is by no means bad eating, and here was a store of food sufficient for the whole neighborhood.
“Shall we search for another, my lord?” the hunter asked Chebron.
“No. I think I have had enough of this. There is no fun in killing an animal that has not spirit to defend itself. What do you think, Amuba?”
“I quite agree with you, Chebron. One might almost as well slaughter a cow. What is that?” he exclaimed suddenly as a loud scream was heard at a short distance away. “It is a woman’s voice.”
Chebron darted off in full speed in the direction of the sound, closely followed by Amuba and Jethro. They ran about a hundred yards along the bank, when they saw the cause of the outcry. An immense crocodile was making his way toward the river, dragging along with it the figure of a woman.
In spite of his reverence for the crocodile Chebron did not hesitate a moment, but rushing forward smote the crocodile on the nose with all his strength with the shaft of his spear. The crocodile dropped its victim and turned upon its assailant, but Jethro and Amuba were close behind, and these also attacked him. The crocodile seeing this accession of enemies now set out for the river, snapping its jaws together.
“Mind its tail!” one of the hunters exclaimed, running up.
But the warning was too late, for the next moment Amuba received a tremendous blow which sent him to the ground. The hunter at the same moment plunged his spear into the animal through the soft skin at the back of its leg. Jethro followed his example on the other side. The animal checked its flight, and turning round and round lashed with its tail in all directions.
“Keep clear of it!” the hunter shouted. “It is mortally wounded and will need no more blows.”
In fact, the crocodile had received its death-wound. Its movements became more languid, it ceased to lash its tail, though it still snapped at those nearest to it, but gradually this action also ceased, its head sank, and it was dead. Jethro as soon as he had delivered his blow ran to Amuba.
“Are you hurt?” he asked anxiously.
“No, I don’t think so,” Amuba gasped. “The brute has knocked all the breath out of my body; but that’s better than if he had hit me in the leg, for I think he would have broken it had he done so. How is the woman—is she dead?”
“I have not had time to see,” Jethro replied. “Let me help you to your feet, and let us see if any of your ribs are broken. I will see about her afterward.”
Amuba on getting up declared that he did not think he was seriously hurt, although unable for the time to stand upright.
“I expect I am only bruised, Jethro. It was certainly a tremendous whack he gave me, and I expect I shall not be able to take part in any sporting for the next few days. The crocodile was worth a dozen hippopotami. There was some courage about him.”
They now walked across to Chebron, who was stooping over the figure of the crocodile’s victim.
“Why, she is but a girl!” Amuba exclaimed. “She is no older than your sister, Chebron.”
“Do you think she is dead?” Chebron asked in hushed tones.
“I think she has only fainted,” Jethro replied. “Here,” he shouted to one of the peasants who were gathered round the crocodile, “one of you run down to the water and bring up a gourdful.”
“I don’t think she is dead,” Amuba said. “It seemed to me that the crocodile had seized her by the leg.”
“We must carry her somewhere,” Jethro said, “and get some woman to attend to her. I will see if there is a hut near.” He sprang up to the top of some rising ground and looked round. “There is a cottage close at hand,” he said as he returned. “I dare say she belongs there.”
Bidding two of the peasants run to fetch some women, he lifted up the slight figure and carried her up the slope, the two lads following. On turning round the foot of a sandhill they saw a cottage lying nestled behind it. It was neater and better kept than the majority of the huts of the peasants. The walls of baked clay had been whitewashed and were half-covered with bright flowers. A patch of carefully cultivated ground lay around it. Jethro entered the cottage. On a settle at the further end a man was sitting. He was apparently of great age; his hair and long beard were snowy white.
“What is it?” he exclaimed as Jethro entered. “Has the God of our fathers again smitten me in my old age, and taken from me my pet lamb? I heard her cry, but my limbs have lost their power, and I could not rise to come to her aid.”
“I trust that the child is not severely injured,” Jethro said. “We had just killed a hippopotamus when we heard her scream, and running up found a great crocodile dragging her to the river, but we soon made him drop her. I trust that she is not severely hurt. The beast seemed to us to have seized her by the leg. We have sent to fetch some women. Doubtless they will be here immediately. Ah! here’s the water.”
He laid the girl down upon a couch in the corner of the room, and taking the gourd from the peasant who brought it sprinkled some water on her face, while Amuba, by his direction, rubbed her hands. It was some minutes before she opened her eyes, and just as she did so two women entered the hut. Leaving the girl to their care, Jethro and the boys left the cottage.
“I trust that the little maid is not greatly hurt,” Amuba said. “By her dress it seems to me that she is an Israelite, though I thought we had left their land behind us on the other side of the desert. Still her dress resembles those of the women we saw in the village as we passed, and it is well for her it does so, for they wear more and thicker garments than the Egyptian peasant women, and the brute’s teeth may not have torn her severely.”
In a few minutes one of the women came out and told them that the maid had now recovered and that she was almost unhurt. “The crocodile seems to have seized her by her garments rather than her flesh, and although the teeth have bruised her, the skin is unbroken. Her grandfather would fain thank you for the service you have rendered him.”
They re-entered the cottage. The girl was sitting on the ground at her grandfather’s feet holding one of his hands in hers, while with his other he was stroking her head. As they entered, the women, seeing that their services were no longer required, left the cottage.
“Who are those to whom I owe the life of my grandchild?” the old man asked.
“I am Chebron, the son of Ameres, the high priest of the temple of Osiris at Thebes. These are my friends, Amuba and Jethro, two of the Rebu nation who were brought to Egypt and now live in my father’s household.”
“We are his servants,” Amuba said, “though he is good enough to call us his friends.”
“’Tis strange,” the old man said, “that the son of a priest of Osiris should thus come to gladden the last few hours of one who has always withstood the Egyptian gods. And yet had the crocodile carried off my Ruth, it might have been better for her, seeing that ere the sun has risen and set many times she will be alone in the world.”
The girl uttered a little cry, and rising on her knees threw her arms round the old man’s neck.
“It must be so, my Ruth. I have lived a hundred and ten years in this land of the heathen, and my course is run; and were it not for your sake I should be glad that it is so, for my life has been sorrow and bitterness. I call her my grandchild, but she is in truth the daughter of my grandchild, and all who stood between her and me have passed away before me and left us alone together. But she trusts in the God of Abraham, and he will raise up a protector for her.”
Chebron, who had learned something of the traditions of the Israelites dwelling in Egypt, saw by the old man’s words that Jethro’s surmises were correct and that he belonged to that race.
“You are an Israelite,” he said gently. “How is it that you are not dwelling among your people instead of alone among strangers?”
“I left them thirty years back when Ruth’s mother was but a tottering child. They would not suffer me to dwell in peace among them, but drove me out because I testified against them.”
“Because you testified against them?” Chebron repeated in surprise.
“Yes. My father was already an old man when I was born, and he was one of the few who still clung to the faith of our fathers. He taught me that there was but one God, the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, and that all other gods were but images of wood and stone. To that faith I clung, though after awhile I alone of all our people held to the belief. The others had forgotten their God and worshiped the gods of the Egyptians. When I would speak to them they treated my words as ravings and as casting dishonor on the gods they served.
“My sons went with the rest, but my daughter learned the true faith from my lips and clung to it. She taught her daughter after her, and ten years ago, when she too lay dying, she sent Ruth by a messenger to me, praying me to bring her up in the faith of our fathers, and saying that though she knew I was of a great age, she doubted not that when my time came God would raise up protectors for the child. So for ten years we have dwelt here together, tilling and watering our ground and living on its fruit and by the sale of baskets that we weave and exchange for fish with our neighbors. The child worships the God of our fathers, and has grown and thriven here for ten years; but my heart is heavy at the thought that my hours are numbered and that I see no way after me but that Ruth shall return to our people, who will assuredly in time wean her from her faith.”
“Never, grandfather,” the girl said firmly. “They may beat me and persecute me, but I will never deny my God.”
“They are hard people the Israelites,” the old man said, shaking his head, “and they are stubborn and must needs prevail against one so tender. However, all matters are in the hands of God, who will again reveal himself in his due time to his people who have forgotten him.”
Amuba, looking at the girl, thought that she had more power of resistance than the old man gave her credit for. Her face was of the same style of beauty as that of some of the young women he had seen in the villages of the Israelites, but of a higher and finer type. Her face was almost oval, with soft black hair, and delicately marked eyebrows running almost in a straight line below her forehead. Her eyes were large and soft, with long lashes veiling them, but there was a firmness about the lips and chin that spoke of a determined will, and gave strength to her declaration “Never.”
There was silence a moment, and then Chebron said almost timidly:
“My father, although high priest of Osiris, is not a bigot in his religion. He is wise and learned, and views all things temperately, as my friends here can tell you. He knows of your religion; for I have heard him say that when they first came into this land the Israelites worshiped one God only. I have a sister who is of about the same age as Ruth, and is gentle and kind. I am sure that if I ask my father he will take your grandchild into his household to be a friend and companion to Mysa, and I am certain that he would never try to shake her religion, but would let her worship as she chooses.”
The old man looked fixedly at Chebron.
“Your speech is pleasant and kind, young sir, and your voice has an honest ring. A few years back I would have said that I would rather the maiden were dead than a handmaid in the house of an Egyptian; but as death approaches we see things differently, and it may be that she would be better there than among those who once having known the true God have forgotten him and taken to the worship of idols. I have always prayed and believed that God would raise up protectors for Ruth, and it seems to me now that the way you have been brought hither in these latter days of my life is the answer to my prayer. Ruth, my child, you have heard the offer, and it is for you to decide. Will you go with this young Egyptian lord and serve his sister as a handmaiden, or will you return to the villages of our people?”
Ruth had risen to her feet now, and was looking earnestly at Chebron, then her eyes turned to the faces of Amuba and Jethro, and then slowly went back again to Chebron.
“I believe that God has chosen for me,” she said at last, “and has sent them here not only to save my life, but to be protectors to me; their faces are all honest and good. If the father of this youth will receive me, I will, when you leave me, go and be the handmaid of his daughter.”
“It is well,” the old man said. “Now I am ready to depart, for my prayers have been heard. May God deal with you and yours, Egyptian, even as you deal with my child.”
“May it be so,” Chebron replied reverently.
“I can tell you,” Jethro said to the old man, “that in no household in Egypt could your daughter be happier than in that of Ameres. He is the lord and master of Amuba and myself, and yet, as you see, his son treats us not as servants, but as friends. Ameres is one of the kindest of men; and as to his daughter Mysa, whose special attendant I am, I would lay down my life to shield her from harm. Your grandchild could not be in better hands. As to her religion, although Ameres has often questioned Amuba and myself respecting the gods of our people, he has never once shown the slightest desire that we should abandon them for those of Egypt.”
“And now,” Chebron said, “we will leave you; for doubtless the excitement has wearied you, and Ruth needs rest and quiet after her fright. We are encamped a mile away near the lake, and will come and see you to-morrow.”
Not a word was spoken for some time after they left the house, and then Chebron said:
“It really would almost seem as if what that old man said was true, and that his God had sent us there that a protector might be found for his daughter. It was certainly strange that we should happen to be within sound of her voice when she was seized by that crocodile, and be able to rescue her just in time. It needed, you see, first, that we should be there, then that the crocodile should seize her at that moment, and, lastly, that we should be just in time to save her being dragged into the river. A crocodile might have carried her away ten thousand times without any one being within reach to save her and the chances were enormously against any one who did save her being in a position to offer her a suitable home at her grandfather’s death.”
“It is certainly strange. You do not think that your father will have any objection to take her?” Amuba asked.
“Oh, no; he may say that he does not want any more servants in the house, but I am sure that when he sees her he will be pleased to have such a companion for Mysa. If it was my mother I do not know. Most likely she would say no; but when she hears that it has all been settled, she will not trouble one way or the other about it. I will write my father a letter telling him all about it, and send off one of the slaves with it at once. He can get back to-morrow, and it will gladden the old man’s heart to know that it is all arranged. I wish to tell my father, too, of my trouble.”
“What trouble?” Amuba asked in surprise. “You have told me nothing about anything troubling you.”
“Do you not understand, Amuba? I am in trouble because I struck the crocodile; it is an impious action, and yet what could I do?”
Amuba repressed an inclination to smile.
“You could do nothing else, Chebron, for there was no time to mince matters. He was going too fast for you to explain to him that he was doing wrong in carrying off a girl, and you therefore took the only means in your power of stopping him; besides, the blow you dealt him did him no injury whatever. It was Jethro and the hunter who killed him.”
“But had I not delayed his flight they could not have done so.”
“That is true enough, Chebron; but in that case he would have reached the water with his burden and devoured her at his leisure. Unless you think that his life is of much more importance than hers, I cannot see that you have anything to reproach yourself with.”
“You do not understand me, Amuba,” Chebron said pettishly. “Of course I do not think that the life of an ordinary animal is of as much importance as that of a human being; but the crocodiles are sacred, and misfortune falls upon those who injure them.”
“Then in that case, Chebron, misfortune must fall very heavily on the inhabitants of those districts where the crocodile is killed wherever he is found. I have not heard that pestilence and famine visit those parts of Egypt with more frequency than they do the districts where the crocodile is venerated.”
Chebron made no answer. What Amuba said was doubtless true; but upon the other hand, he had always been taught that the crocodile was sacred, and if so he could not account for the impunity with which these creatures were destroyed in other parts of Egypt. It was another of the puzzles that he so constantly met with. After a long pause he replied:
“It may seem to be as you say; but you see, Amuba, there are some gods specially worshiped in one district, others in another. In the district that a god specially protects he would naturally be indignant were the animals sacred to him to be slain, while he might pay no heed to the doings in those parts in which he is little concerned.”
“In that case, Chebron, you can clearly set your mind at rest. Let us allow that it is wrong to kill a crocodile in the district in which he is sacred and where a god is concerned about his welfare, but that no evil consequences can follow the slaying of him in districts in which he is not sacred, and where his god, as you say, feels little interest in him.”
“I hope that is so, Amuba; and that as the crocodile is not a sacred animal here no harm may come from my striking one, though I would give much that I had not been obliged to do so. I hope that my father will regard the matter in the same light.”
“I have no doubt that he will do so, Chebron, especially as we agreed that you did no real harm to the beast.”
“Is it not strange, Jethro,” Amuba said when Chebron had gone into the tent, “that wise and learned people like the Egyptians should be so silly regarding animals?”
“It is strange, Amuba, and it was hard to keep from laughing to hear you so gravely arguing the question with Chebron. If all the people held the same belief I should not be surprised; but as almost every animal worshiped in one of the districts is hated and slain in another, and that without any evil consequences arising, one would have thought that they could not but see for themselves the folly of their belief. What are we going to do to-morrow?”
“I do not think that it is settled; we have had one day at each of the sports. Rabah said that to-morrow we could either go out and see new modes of fishing, or accompany the fowlers and watch them catching birds in the clap nets, or go out into the desert and hunt ibex. Chebron did not decide, but I suppose when he has finished his letter we shall hear what he intends to do.”
After Chebron had finished his letter, which was a long one, he called Rabah and asked him to dispatch it at once by the fleetest-footed of the slaves.
“He will get there,” he said, “before my father retires to rest. If he does not reply at once, he will probably answer in the morning, and at any rate the man ought to be back before midday.”
At dinner Amuba asked Chebron whether he had decided what they should do the next day.
“We might go and look at the men with the clap nets,” Chebron answered. “They have several sorts in use, and take numbers of pigeons and other birds. I think that will be enough for to-morrow. We have had four days’ hard work, and a quiet day will be pleasant, and if we find the time goes slowly, we can take a boat across the lake and look at the Great Sea beyond the sandhills that divide the lake from it; beside, I hope we shall get my father’s answer, and I should like some further talk with that old Israelite. It is interesting to learn about the religion that his forefathers believed in, and in which it seems that he and his grandchild are now the last who have faith.”
“It will suit me very well to have a quiet day, Chebron; for in any case I do not think I could have accompanied you. My ribs are sore from the whack the crocodile gave me with his tail, and I doubt whether I shall be able to walk to-morrow.”
Indeed, the next morning Amuba was so stiff and sore that he was unable to rise from his couch.
Soon after breakfast the messenger returned, bringing a letter from Ameres. It was as follows: