Ki-Gor and the Nirvana of the Seven Voodoos | Page 2

jungle, the aged beast would have presented no problem to Ki-Gor.
But here on the veldt, there was no cover, and Ki-Gor's only weapon
against those great raking claws, was the Pygmy spear.
The brute looked hungry. Evidently it had been unable to knock down
any of the gnus as they galloped to safety, and now it intended to take
Ki-Gor's prize away from him. Stealthily Ki-Gor picked up the light
spear and gripped it. Hungry man and hungry beast glared at each other
across the fallen body of the gnu.
Then, with a strangled roar, the old lion sprang. Ki-Gor poised--waiting.
And, as the lion hit the ground in front of him, Ki-Gor jammed the
spear down the red, gaping maw. At the same time, he made a twisting
leap, just missing a murderous swipe from a heavy front paw. The lion
thrashed its great head in agony, and quickly snapped the slender haft
in two. But the spearhead remained imbedded far down the beast's
gullet. A torrent of blood poured out of the lion's mouth, and it
staggered away, coughing and shaking its head.
Ki-Gor watched it until it disappeared in the tall grass, then he turned
his attention back to the motionless form of the gnu. He knelt down
with a smile of satisfaction. It was a fat young buck. Its meat would not
be tender, eaten fresh, but it would have a fine flavor, and it would be
nourishing. Ki-Gor debated with himself whether to attempt to carry
the big antelope back to the camp where he had left Helene, or whether
to cut it up on the spot. A foreleg in each hand, he tested the weight of
the animal. He shook his head. Strong as he was, it would be too great a

load to carry the distance of over a mile.
Suddenly, the smile of satisfaction died off Ki-Gor's bronzed face, to be
replaced by an expression of troubled concern. How was he going to
cut it up? He could have used the blade of the Pygmy spear to carve off
some slabs of meat from the gnu's flanks, but the blade of the Pygmy
spear was far down the throat of the dying lion!
Ki-Gor kicked petulantly at the body of the gnu. After all his patience
and his care in bringing down the antelope, he was now to be cheated
out of eating it. So near, and yet so far.
His lips drawn back in a snarl, Ki-Gor reached down and once more
seized the animal's forelegs. Whether he could cut it up or not, he
wasn't going to leave it behind for the dogs or the lions to eat. He
heaved upward and rolled the animal over. As he did, he saw
something glint in the antelope's thick mane--something which
reflected the sunlight. A brown hand swiftly explored the thick, matted
hairs behind the horns. With a shout of triumph, Ki-Gor extricated a
flat piece of metal. It was the wide, shovel-shaped blade of a Bantu
assegai. A few splinters of wood in the hollow socket at the rear end
told the story. Some black hunter had had much the same experience as
Ki-Gor had had with the lion. Except that in this case, the blade of the
spear, instead of piercing the thick hide of the gnu, had merely become
caught in the thick tangle of hair in the creature's head. The antelope
had got away, carrying the spear in it mane, and eventually the haft had
worked loose, or broken off.
Ki-Gor wasted no time conjecturing about what had happened to the
haft of the spear, however. He whetted both edges of the broad blade,
energetically, on a smooth stone, until he had them razorsharp. Then he
set to work skinning the antelope, after which he began carving great
strips of meat from its sides. As he cut each slab free, he placed it on
the spread out hide. When he had finished, he gathered up the ends of
the skin, slung the bundle over one shoulder, and headed across the
veldt toward a thin column of smoke which represented his camp. In
the antelope-hide bundle there was over twenty pounds of meat.

Helene Vaughn looked up with a quick cry, as Ki-Gor walked into the
little thicket where she was crouching over a little fire. She was
carefully feeding it twigs to keep it alive.
"Ki-Gor!" she exclaimed. "You brought home something!"
"Yes," said Ki-Gor, subduing a complacent smile that rose to his mouth.
"See? Meat. Antelope." And he dropped the bundle on the ground
beside Helene.
"Oh! Ki-Gor, that's wonderful," she said, in heartfelt tones. "I can
hardly believe we're actually going to eat meat again. Did you have
much trouble?"
"No trouble" said Ki-Gor loftily. "It was