So a leopard-hunt was swiftly organized. I rode with Robin and Tilly to the scene of the escape, where a lot of people had already assembled. The leopard had not dragged the trap away, as we had supposed. There it was, on the end of its chain, with a lot of fur and blood on it. Where it had been concealed, the bush was trampled and uprooted, grass carried the rusty stains of blood, and bits of yellow fur clung to thorns. There had been a terrific lashing about, a scene of turmoil, rage, and agony, until the beast had freed himself by the most desperate expedient imaginable. He had evidently bitten off his own torn, bleeding foot to gain his freedom. Even Mr Roos shook his head. ‘Never known it happen before. Man, he’s a kali one, this is.’ Kali was another word we made much use of, it meant fierce or bold, savage or bad-tempered, and on the whole it was a term of respect. Most of the Palmers’ Kikuyu labour had turned back into warriors, simply by abandoning their pangas, bringing out their long-bladed spears, and wearing their vermilion-sheathed swords, and they were standing about excitedly talking, or else without words, as tense as coiled springs, staring into the bush with eyes brightened by anticipation, and all the old dreams of warriors’ glory flooding back into their hearts.
What do You think about The Flame Trees Of Thika (2000)?
