Free 1972 - A Story Like the Wind by Laurens Van Der Post, Prefers to remain anonymous Page B

gasping voice which frightened François into thinking that he might be dying. But all that he was doing was trying, in broken sentences, first to warn that there was a leopard about and to say that all night long he had been threatened by the animal; and then to plead with François not to let him fall into the hands of any black man or other strangers.
    François quickly reassured him on this last point because he shared the man’s fears himself in that regard. Then immediately he took precautions about the leopard, perhaps just in time, because he noticed that Hintza was already aware of something dangerous creeping up on them under cover of the bush near at hand. He was indeed trying to attract François’s attention, pointing with his head and tail a-quiver in the direction of the grass and shrub beyond the marula trees.
    ‘Good Hin,’ François whispered to him. ‘Watch! I’ll get the gun at once.’
    Quickly reassuring the Bushman that he would never let him fall into strange hands, he stepped over the trap, picked up the gun and joined Hintza. The dog by this time was standing beside the Bushman with the ridge of hair along the supple and tawny back erect and electric, while there came from him an angry murmur of protest at the self-restraint imposed upon him by his training, preventing him from dashing into the bush to grapple with the invisible enemy.
    ‘Beware, it’s Xkdueydken [the leopard] coming back again. Take care!’ The Bushman, obviously an experienced hunter, exhorted François in words fainter and uttered with greater difficulty than before.
    This was a complication François would have given anything to avoid at that moment. He could hardly have thought of anything more dangerous. He would even have preferred to meet a lion just then, not only because it was easier to hit, but also because as a rule at that hour of the day it was capable of being discouraged from attack. Lions, unlike leopards, felt more relaxed in the day than at night and consequently were more placid and also lazier.
    Leopards on the other hand were essentially nocturnal. They did not see at all well by day and accordingly felt insecure. Brave as they were they were inclined to panic in daylight and became more aggressive than at night, for which their senses were so superbly attuned. This applied particularly when hunger drove leopards, against their instinctive preferences, to search for food by day. And obviously this leopard, of which the Bushman had warned him, would not have contrived prowling around the trap all night and into the first light of day, if it were not extremely hungry.
    François clearly had to be ready for the worst. Even so, he might not have been ready if it had not been for Hintza. The dog’s attitude suddenly had changed significantly. Instead of looking deep into the bush in front, his head was slowly tilting upwards, his tail sinking into line accordingly, until tip of tail and point of his quickened nose, creased and quivering with apprehension were aligned, like the needle of a compass, on the middle of a particularly dense spreading tree which stood ahead of them with an enormous branch thick in leaves leaning over the track just in front of François’s head.
    The play of light and shade among the leaves upon the tree was itself as dappled and spotted as a leopard’s coat. No leopard could ever have chosen better camouflage for a line of attack. Alternatively watching Hintza and then the tree, Francis’s eyes were ultimately rewarded. Suddenly a substance too solid for either leaf or shadow moved. The outline of the back of an animal chequered with sun and shadow, emerged crawling slowly along the branch towards them. As François identified it, the animal suddenly halted, crouching so low that its head appeared resting on the branch. Watching it so intently Fran-fois’s eyes had become more accustomed to the nuances of shapes, shades and colours of the bush in front of him. The leopard was