1938-03-18 — Page 13

CHINA MAIL

FRIDAY SUPPLEMENT, MARCH 18, 1938

LD Joe went about the Boma snakes. Cobras,

O catching

ripers, adders, all were his prey. One variety Joe avoided: the big το mamba. “I don't mind 'em up three feet," he declared, “but over that they're too wild for me.?

His methods of dealing with reptiles were various and cunning, but mostly he favoured the fork- ed stick and canvas bag. When Joe found a snake, he induced it to stretch out in a dash for escape, then he pinned its head down firmly with his forked stick. The next performance was in seize it by the neck, in such a way that it could not bite him, and pop it into his canvas bag.

His hunting-ground was the Government Boma of Matunda in Southern Tanganyika. Here was - a large grassy clearing in the midst of sandy thorn-bush, a ter- rain prolific of the worst snakes in Africa. Maxwell, the District Officer, had cut away the long grass and bush for a square mile about the buildings; he had made roads leading out to the districts. The huts in the police lines, and the gapl, stood in an expanse of hard-packed murrum; it was all very tidy and sanitary beneath the fierce glare of the tropic sun. But the inhabitants were greatly worried by snakes.

They emerged from the nyika to invade the stronghold of offi cialdom, seeming to prefer the cleared ground and orderly sur- roundings. They guarded the bunkers on the nine-hole golf course, sunned themselves on the tennis court, and created panic on the parade ground, Everyone was in daily fear of treading on a basking puff-adder, or incurring the spite of a passing mamba.

Then came Joe Smith. He was nearly seventy, his face tanned and wrinkled like hide, his grey whiskers unruly as those of a highland terrier. He had been hunter, prospector, transport-- rider, and had not prospered. Now he caught snakes and sold them to zoos, jugglers, serum- makers, and witch doctors. The demand was greater than the supply, he said, and an agent at the coast would take all he could send.

Snake-ridden. Matunda was to him a fair and fruitful field: Max- -well paid him a small salary, he

became official snake catcher, a ́ member of the Administrative personnel.

Young Lance Dyke, the cadet, was fascinated by Joe and his profession. He had come straight from Cambridge to this outpost of Empire, had seen no wild crea- ture more dangerous than a stoat, and was astounded at the non- chalance of this old ruffian whose days were spent in hunting the deadliest of creatures. Dyke was a good-looking young man, with a manner which Grant Lindsay, the A.D.O., called effeminate.

Mrs. Lindsay thought it an im- on the phlegmatic, provement preoccupied behaviour of her husband and the D. O. "At last I have someone to talk to," she de- clared. “Someone who can think of other things than natives and elephants and hut tax.

She played tennis with Dyke every afternoon, or rode with him, while her husband played golf with his superior officer. At sun-downer time on the stoep of

Snakes

one of the bungalows, the young- er people talked books and plays, and dancing, and the older the absorbing topics of tribal rights. and native administration.

Still, Dyke had time to fre quent the company of Joe. He would rise early to join him on his before-breakfast hunt. On the first of these occasions Dyke was introduced to several deadly rep- tiles, and the correct manner of catching them.

"You've got to walk careful, and keep your eyes skinned," said joe. “Now there, you see, we have a beauty, first go off.”

They were traversing the parade ground and the "beauty" was a grey night-adder which Joe's practised eyes had discern- ed crawing round the corner of a hut. Soft though the men's

tread. the snake felt its vibra- tions, and coiled, lying still. and watchful.

"Wonderful sharp hearing they have," said Joe, putting down his bag. He held his forked stick in one hand, and in the other an im- plement like a dusting brush, made of guinea fowl feathers. This be extended slowly towards the snake. The adder writhed back, hissing warning. Then it struck, embedding its fangs in the feathers. Joe pushed its head down with his shield, held it firm- ly with his forked stick, and pick- -ed it up.

He carried the creature, twin- ing its three-foot length round

Short Story

Author of "Wanderings in Wild "Dwellers in the

arm and neck, to his bag, con- versing leisurely meanwhile, as though he handled nothing more. dangerous than a grass snake.

"He's a bit sluggish because he hasn't got warmed up yet. In you go, my lad". He popped the rep- tile into the bag and drew the string tight. "That's one," he said with satisfaction.

Dyke followed him with horri- fied interest.

"Now this is a ringals, and we've got to be careful," said Joe down by the stream. He neatly. cut off the snake's retreat and brought it to bay on a patch of sand, where it threatened kim with open jaws. "The spitting cobra is a bad feller, because he squirts his juice at your eyes and -blinds you. That's why I go up to him holding my coat, like this, and when he spits-ah, would you, my boy!" He shielded his face from the jet of venom, and threw his coat on to the snake, holding it down with his foot

The trouble is to find his -head.” He groped about through the cloth, and presently stood up holding the lashing captive.

"Always keep his head turned away from you so he can't spit in your eye," he counselled.

First

Dyke went to breakfast plenty of information to think about.

In succeeding days he watched Joe catch puff-adders, cobras, and a tiny ring-snake, and he was also witness of the execution of a big black mamba. This latter was discovered crossing the road near the Government office. It was a six-foot specimen; it coiled and watched the men, hissing gently.

Joe stopped three yards away. "That's lightning death," he said soberly. "He can run faster than we can; he comes right off the ground at you; and if he bites you, goodbye and in a few min- utes, mark you. He's a tiger-he'd fight the whole world for two- pence.!"

"What happens if he attacks us?" asked Dyke uncertainly.

"We're gone coons, as like as- not. But we'll hope he won't. I'm going home to get my gún; can't leave him wandering about here."

A few minutes later, as Dyke was sitting down to breakfast, a loud report announced the death of the mamba. He ran out to see Joe standing over its headless body.

Apparently this was Joe's în- variable practice with the bigger He ex- members of this breed. plained that even if he could catch them no one would buy them. "They're that fierce and quick; they never calm down. Always trying for you. Take no

By C. T. Stoneham

Africa," "Elephant Brother,' Wilderness," etc.

chances with a big mamba; when he's dead, he's safe."

Maxwell told Dyke: "Lindsay has been hit by the sun a bit, I fancy. He was always susceptible. Don't take any notice if he is short with you; the poor fellow was badly used in the war, and this climate does not suit him. He won't take sick leave, but I shall have to insist, I'm afraid.” Dyke had much to put up with. Lindsay seldom addressed him, but when he did so it was in a vein of biting sarcasm. He com- plained about something every day: nothing this subordinate did pleased him.

me.

Mary said shortly that her hus- band was becoming impossible to

live with.

"He bullies the ser- vants, and he'll hardly speak to

I'm getting tired of it."" Dyke tried to console her; it was an easy, pleasant task. He had often philandered in a harm- less way with young married wo- men, finding their husbands tolerantly amused, or indifferent. He was unprepared for Lindsay's icy wrath when he came on them standing in the moonlit com pound, in each other's armss. It had been a goodnight salute, and not the firsİ.

"You go inside," said Lindsay to his wife, and, after a glance at his scowling face, she obeyed. The husband addressed Dyke: "We don't want a scandal, some- thing will have to be done. I suggest you apply for transfer to another district?

But it is all perfectly innocent. Lindsay

"Is it? We'll talk about that lates Im not blind”

The next day Lindsay did not come to the office in the mom- ing, and the duty of hearing cases devolved upon the cadet Dyke was unable to settle tribal dis- putes, but, on Maxwell's instruc- tions, he took-evidence and pre- pared copious notes.

He saw Joe Smith during the day. The snake catcher. was pleased, for he had received an order from an agent at the coast for a large mamba.

"What he wants it for Tm rranged if I know," said Joe, "but he's willing to pay a thumping price for it....

"How will you catch it?” ask- ed. Dyke interestedly.

"Easy. I know where there is a big one: in your office.”

"What?" The young man was startled, half incredulous.

Grant Lindsay weat off on a tour of the district to collect hut tax, and Dyke was invited to take Mary Lindsay riding in the early- mornings, so his excursions with the snake catcher were suspend- ed. He preferred Mary's COM- pany to that of snakes. But Joe, watching them walking their ponies past him, 50 ab-

"It's all right," said Joe calm- their sorbed in

talk that

ly. "He's got a hole in the cup- they were unaware of his inspec-

board floor, and he gets out into- tion, opined that snakes were

the compound through a rat hole. less dangerous, Plenty of dead-

near Lindsay's desk. I've known ly ones are beautiful," he reflect-

about him a long time, but he ed. “She's got hair like the yellow caly comes out at night, so there in a puff-adder, and may-he she'd

was no need to worry. Besides. I strike backwards sudden-like, hate working at night.” just the samę

Lindsay returned from his safari, bad-tempered, and com- plaining of headaches. "This sun, I hate it! All day and every day --and marching in it! I'd give anything for a damp, misty spell; but it's the bright moon by night and the glaring sun by day, and no let-up."

"Did you have a go of fever on this trip, Lindsay?" asked Max- well, eyeing his A.D.0 with con-

"I did, Sir-

"Well, the sooner you catch the brute, the better," said Dyke de- cidedly. "If old Maxwell knew, he'd have forty fits."

"Then it's just as well he don't know," said Joe philosophically. I'll get him to-night. You give me the key, and I'll sit up for him. A nice saucer of milk out- side the cup oard will fetch him

Dyke

that

to hand over the left the ued on Page