The Bafut Beagles

wellI he said in a pleased tone of voice. Isn't that a strange thing? Last time I was on leave I got some serum. Thought it might come in useful. It's been sitting in the fridge for the last six months.

Well, thank heaven for that.

Come into the house, my dear fellow. I shall be most interested to see if it works.

So shall I,I admitted.

We went into the house, and I sat down in a chair while the doctor and his wife busied themselves with methylated spirits, hypodermic needles, and the other accoutrements necessary for the operation. Then the doctor gave me three injections in the thumb, as near to the bite as was possible, and a couple more in my arm. These hurt me considerably more than the original bite had done.

Made you feel a bit rocky? inquired the doctor cheerfully, feeling my pulse.

They've made me feel bloody, I said bitterly.

what you need is a good stiff whisky.

I thought one wasn't allowed spirits?

Oh, yes. It won't hurt you, he said, and poured me out a liberal glassful. I can never remember a drink tasting so good.

and now, the doctor went on, you're to spend the night in the spare room. I want you in bed in five minutes. You can have a bath if you feel like it.

Can't I go back to Bafut? I asked. I've got all my animals there, and there's no one really competent to look after them.

you're in no state to go back to Bafut, or to look after animals, he said firmly. now no arguments, into bed. You can go back in the morning, if I think you're well enough.

To my surprise, I slept soundly, and when I awoke the next day I felt extremely well, though my arm was still swollen and mildly painful. I had breakfast in bed, and then the doctor came to have a look at me.

how dyou feel? he asked.

fine. I'm feeling so well that I'm beginning to think the snake must have been harmless.

no, it was poisonous all right. You said it only got you with one fang, and you probably dropped it so quickly that it didn't have time to inject the full shot of venom. If it had, it might have been another story.

 Can I go back to Bafut?

well, yes, if you feel up to it, but I shouldn't think that arm will be up to much for a day or two. Anyway, if it worries you, come in and see me.

Spurred on by the thought of my precious collection waiting at Bafut, uncleaned and unfed, I goaded the unfortunate driver so that he got us back in record time. As we drew up in the road below the villa, I saw a figure seated on the bottom step. It was my fat girl friend of the day before.

Iseeya, Mammy, I said, as I stepped down into the road.

Iseeya, Masa, she replied, hoisting herself to her feet and waddling towards me.

na what you de want? I asked, for I was impatient to get up to my animals.

Masa done forget? she inquired, surprised.

forget what, Mammy?

eh, Masa! she said accusingly, Masa never pay me for dat fine snake I done bring.

CHAPTER NINE The Fon and the Golden Cat

My stay in Bafut eventually drew to a close. I had collected a vast quantity of animal life, and it was time to take it all back to the base camp, where it could be re-caged and got ready for the voyage. Reluctantly I informed all the hunters that I would be leaving in a week, so that they would not bring in any specimens after I had left. I ordered the lorry, and sent a note to Smith, telling him to expect me. The Fon, when he heard the news, came flying over, clasping a bottle of gin, and did his best to persuade me to stay. But, as I explained to him, I could not stay any longer, much as I would like to do so; our return passages were booked, and that meant the whole collection had to be ready to move down country on the prescribed date. If there was any hitch we would miss the ship, and we might not be able to get another one for a couple of months, a delay which the trip's budget was not designed to cope with.

ah I my friend, I sorry too much you go, said the Fon, pouring gin into my glass with the gay abandon of a fountain.

I sorry too much as well, I said with truth; but I no get chance for stay Bafut any more.

you go remember Bafut, said the Fon, pointing a long finger at me; you go remember Bafut fine. Na for Bafut you done get plenty fine beef, no be so ?

na so, I said, pointing at my vast piles of cages; I done get beef too much for Bafut.

The Fon nodded benignly. Then he leant forward and clasped my hand.

when you go for your country, sometime you go tell your people de Fon of Bafut na your friend, an e done get you all dis fine beef, eh?

I go tell um all, I promised, and I go tell um dat de Fon be fine hunter man, better pass all hunter for Cameroons.

foine, foine! said the Fon delightedly.

na one beef I never get for here, I said; I sorry too much.

na whatee, my friend ? he asked, leaning forward anxiously.

na dat big bush cat dat get skin like gold and mark-mark for e belly. I done show you photograph, you remember?

ah! Dat beef! he said; you speak true. Dat beef you never get yet.