Mike Johnson, Country Music's No.1 Black Yodeler

                                  First there was THE JUNGLE BOOK!
                                                    Then TARZAN OF THE APES!
                                                                             And now...

Copyright 1979 Mike Johnson, Majj
First Print Limited Edition: 1979 Custom Hardback
Second Print Limited Edition: 1980 Paperback
Third Printing Limited Edition 1999 Paperback
Fourth Printing Limited Edition 2008 Paperback

Library of Congress Card Catalog Number: 79-91128
Cover Art & Design by Mike Johnson
Illustrations by Mike Johnson

All Rights Reserved. May not be copied or reproduced whole or in part by any means without the written permission of the Copyright Owner and or Publisher. Except for instances of periodical and literary review. MAJJ Productions, P.O. Box 100933, Arlington, Va. 22210.    #13MAJOO4

 
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1 Adopted
Chapter 2 The Early Years
Chapter 3 Discovery
Chapter 4 A Surprise Meeting
Chapter 5 When The Rhino Charged
Chapter 6 Kazar
Chapter 7  Natu's Secret
Chapter 8 Distracted
Chapter 9 Helping The Elephant
Chapter 10 When The Snake Struck
Chapter 11 Natu's Decision
Chapter 12 Fever
Chapter 13 A Search Begins
Chapter 14 What The Jungle Told
Chapter 15 A Little Boy's Anger
Chapter 16 And He Was Gone

CHAPTER 1 * ADOPTED
   The twin engines of the light blue private plane buzzed strongly as it zipped across the bright African sky. It flew low and fast almost two hundred feet above the ground in some places. Below it stretched the vast jungles, grassy plains, rolling hills, and winding rivers of the African Congo. Large herds of zebra, gnu, elephants, gazelles, buffalo and other creatures fled in the path of the growling iron bird.
   Piloting the craft was a thick mustached, middle-age man named Jock "Dropper" Malone. His Italian parents had migrated to the United States in the early 1900s. His father worked in the West Virginia mines and eventually died of lung cancer. His mother took Jock and his brother and two sisters and moved to the Philadelphia, Pennsylvania area. When war broke out Jock saw this as his opportunity to "be somebody" and he enlisted in the U.S. Army. Dropper was a nickname that he picked up during World War II during his tour as an Air Corp Bomber Pilot in the Pacific Theater.
   "Dropped more bombs than a flock of geese could lay eggs," as he would say.
   Near the end of the war Malone was honorably mustered out. Reluctantly he accepted his discharge and worked a few odd jobs before landing job as a commercial pilot. The air was in his blood and this was the pick-me-up that he needed. After a few years he took a gamble and went into the Commuter Air business for himself and purchased two planes with a GI Loan. Soon he had six good planes and a helicopter, which he obtained from an army surplus auction. He then moved his mother out of her old apartment into a small house of her own.
   Though business was good Jock was still restless. He craved excitement and the city just did not offer it. So he made his next big step. Selling three planes, he took the remainder and the helicopter and moved to a location on the Central East Coast of Africa, where he built up a Commuter and Safari Taxi Service. At last he had found his niche. There he found himself involved in enough adventure to last two lifetimes. Particularly when handling the big foreign-booked big game safaris.

   Jock removed his earphones and wiped his sweating forehead. He glanced at the young American couple in the back. A young man with his wife and their son. He scrutinized the man, whose complexion and features were causing him some consternation. More so out of curiosity than anything else. The wife he was certain was all to obviously Mexican. Or at least of some Latino descent.
   "So you're headed back to the good old U.S. of A., huh?" he started up a conversation. "I see you been traveling some. Hong Kong, India, South Africa..."
   "Yep! Home sweet home. Finally," the man sighed.
   "Business or pleasure trip?" subtly.
   "Both. I'm an art dealer in San Antonio."
   "Art? There's money in that?" he snorted.
   "Sure is if you know how to go about it. Especially in artifacts. Art objects," he quickly followed up, sensing that he was losing the man. "Masks, carvings, sculptures, and things like that. Not just paintings."
   "Damn! People pay money for that stuff! Must be rich snooty folks, huh? Never could see it myself."
   "Believe me, there's a gold mine there. And I'm just tapping into the main vein," he assured him.
   "I been to Texas once," Jock changed the subject. "Kinda hot and dry. You born there?"
   "No," the man's intuition clicked. "Patricia was. I'm an Army brat born and bred in Oklahoma. My father is Negro and my mother is Cherokee."
   Sensing that the art subject was going over the pilot's head he allowed the conversation to drift elsewhere.
   "I'm Gordon Edwards," he extended a hand, "and this is my wife, Patricia. Or Pat. Or... Patrick..." he ducked the anticipated swing with a chuckle.
   "Gordon!" she squealed and playfully poked him in the ribs.
   "Couldn't resist, honey!" he nestled his head against her chest momentarily. "And this little guy," he held the boy up, "is our son Kevin. He's four."
   Jock took it all in and eyed the boy who seemed small for his age.
   "Good looking kid. I'm Jock. Or you can call me by my call-sign, Dropper."
   "Say Jock, could you go down a little closer so we can get a better look at those antelope?" Gordon asked.
   "Roger," answered Jock, and pushing the stick forward, he nosed the craft down.
   Gordon and Patricia Edwards were returning home from a business vacation in South Africa. The couple had spent a two weeks in Cape Town and just a few weeks prior, they had been in parts of East India and in Hong Kong. For years Gordon had been a commercial artist for a large advertising firm in New York City. Then one day he decided to establish his own business, much to the surprise and dismay of his employers. Almost immediately came the pleas for reconsideration and subtle warnings.
   "Art is a tricky business, Edwards. You've done good and made something of yourself here. Are you sure you want to take a chance and give it all up? Think of your wife and child, man. This business is hard enough, but you... with a Mexican wife!"
   Gordon was undeterred by the remarks though. He knew deep down inside that this was something he had to do. Especially in order to create a non-dependent life for his wife and son. His mind wandered back to the turmoil and anxieties that his parents had faced raising their biracial children even on the military bases. So he took the plunge and slowly but surely the venture began to catch on and grow. His reliability and reputation grew and made him a very well known and respected arts and artifact dealer.
   Patricia Angelina Martinez grew up in El Paso, Texas. A "second generation Chicano" she proudly boasted, whose grandparents were from the Mexican state of Monterey. Her own parents came north in their early twenties, desperate to find better opportunities. She met Gordon in San Antonio, Texas during his enlistment in the U.S. Marine Corp Reserves. Too young for World War II, he did manage to get in on a little "police work" in Korea after the treaty.
   Up until the time they were married, Patricia worked in a military secretary pool. When the gold band was placed on her finger she seemed quite content to briefly settle down and become a housewife and mother to their son Kevin. Though she did set up a small home office to help Gordon monitor his business.
   "How's that for a close view?" inquired the pilot, bringing the plane level.
   "Great, just great!" answered Edwards. "Look honey, they're a better looking bunch than the last ones we saw."
   "Oh yeah! Look!" she exclaimed in an admiring tone. "Look at the little one, it's a darling."
   It was a baby gnu that had caught her gaze, and she went all to pieces admiring it. The mother gnu had slowed down until the young one caught up with her. From then on she ran close at its side.
   The plane switched from one herd to another, buzzing low over the plains, just missing the tops of some of the few taller trees on the veldt. Patricia placed Kevin up to the window and pointed to the panorama of wildlife fleeing before them.
   "Meda Kevin! Look. See the funny horses?" she sang. She tapped the glass to get his attention and pointed to a herd of zebras they were passing over. The boy laughed.
   "Si mama. Caballos! Horses," his eyes gleamed.
   Jock grinned and added, "Yeah sonny. When you get older you come over to my place and you can fly and see all the zebras you want."
   "Thank your Uncle," she pointed to the pilot. "Tio Jock!" she laughed.
   "Uncle!" quoted Gordon, his eyebrows arched.
   "I've just been adopted," beamed Jock, and everyone laughed. "Time to move up. Jungle! Don't want to roost in any trees!"
   The plane quickly responded to the controls and rose swiftly and smoothly. Below them they could see the tree tops rush at blinding speed beneath them.
   "Another six hours. Finally the last leg then homeward," Patricia sighed.
   "Aren't you glad dear?" asked her husband, placing an arm about his wife.
   "A little," she answered, and then continued as though dreaming. "I'm going to miss this place. I could, I..." she stopped sharply, a bit startled. Gordon was quick to notice and inquired with concern.
   "Pat, what's wrong?"
   "Oh," she cleared her throat. "Nada. Nothing. I just had something in my throat," she tried to seem natural, but the expression on her face showed otherwise. Something disturbing had crossed her mind and Gordon wanted to know.
   "Pat dear. Something's wrong," he insisted, "Was it South Africa? The hotel staff? Come on now, you can tell me. Que pasa?"
   Patricia looked long into her husband's eyes with a false expression and parted her lips to speak.
   "Nada," she quivered. "Notheeng at ... Oh Gordon!" she broke out in tears, falling into his arms.
   "There, there now, Patricia. Everything's all right," he assured her.
   "No it isn't," she cried. "We aren't going to make it back! Muerta! She whispered. "We're going to die..."
   "Patricia!" Gordon almost shouted. He sat upright and grasped her tightly by the shoulders.
   "What are you saying? Of course we're gonna make it back. Every last one of us! Jock said we'd be in at the airport in six hours and that's what he meant. Now dry up those tears," he smiled, "Or you're gonna have our son treading water!"
   Patricia looked down to see what her husband was talking about. A smile lit her face. Her tears had fallen upon Kevin who was steadfastly wiping them away and completely unaware of what was transpiring around him.
   "Oh darling, you're wet." She picked pulled the boy to her and kissed him.  "Mommy's sorry. Lo siento mucho. We've got to dry you up."
   Then turning to her husband she kissed him a short kiss upon his lips, making his eyes light up and he draped an arm about her shoulders and pressed her closer to him for a moment more.
   Jock shook his head approvingly and pulled a worn photograph from his breast pocket. It was a portrait of a good-looking middle-aged woman. He sighed and placed it back inside his pocket.
   "What was that kiss for?" beamed Gordon.
   "I'm apologizing for acting so childish. Why I shouldn't have given the idea a second thought."
   "Don't you worry none Mrs. Edwards," broke in Jock. "With old 'Dropper' Malone at the controls, you'll git where you're going." There was a tone of bravado in his voice.
   "And may I accept your apology?" Gordon kissed his wife on her cheek.
   "Well," she blushed.
   "There's the Ottawa River," pointed Jock. "It runs from east to southwest. We're in the southern part of the Congo territory now. Sure hate to have to set down there. Civil war is brewing and the whole country is bulging at the seams and ready to explode. The locals are trying to oust the Belgium political regime and many of the area tribes are trying to hold onto their ancestral lands. Folks are tired of being dictated to and abused. Bet you got that feeling in Cape Town too," he glanced into his mirror but got no facial reaction from the Edwards.
   As the plane buzzed its way towards the hazy pink shore it was Jock's turn to become disturbed for this was the first time he'd ever seen a pink shore at this hour of the day except when...
   "Flamingoes!" he muttered.
   "Say what?" replied Gordon, thinking that he was being addressed.
   "Oh nothing. Just muttering to myself."
   Actually Jock was thinking quickly and defensively. He was trying to convince himself that flamingoes nest only on the shores of lakes and rivers in the open country and not in the jungles. Still, the birds were there. Maybe they were just mixed up and didn't know what they were doing. Jock mumbled to himself and kept his course straight.
   "Say Gordon," he called presently. "Come up here a moment."
   "What's up?" he asked, sitting in the co-pilot's seat. "Hey, those are flamingoes!" he exclaimed.
   "Yeah, if we had had them in the war it would've been over a lot sooner."
   "You don't mean they could've carried bombs," laughed Gordon.
   "I'm serious Gordon. Those birds are worse than anti-aircraft flak. An airplane is to them like a hawk is to a grouse. Sometimes they'll sit, too paralyzed to move, and sometimes they'll take to wing to escape. And that's the real danger. They get so confused that they fly every which way, the majority of the time, right into the props and air scoops of the plane that spooked them."
   "You mean...?"
   "Yep. That's just what I mean. Now we've got to cross that river, and I'm praying to God that those birds don't take off. That's the only way we'll make it, because I am already too low and if I start to climb, the change in the engines pitch might be just enough to get them going."
   "Well, I hope for Pat's sake that they keep their long necks on the ground," the younger man breathed, glancing back at his wife.
   The little plane buzzed closer and closer to fate waiting on the banks of the Ottawa River. Had there been another way around without putting him way off the course, Jock would have taken it. But they must cross the river and at this point. The plane's fuel supply would not sustain a wide detour. And if forced to do so Jock knew that it would spell trouble out in the middle of this untamed and uncharted territory.
   The animals along the river bank, partially if not completely, ignored the oncoming plane. Flocks of lessor birds fluttered and squawked and moved to one side or into thicker foliage to let the plane pass. Antelope, gnu, zebras, and hippos gave it a suspicious glance and ambled along. Only the flamingoes stirred uneasily. Nervous eyes watched the droning iron bird. A few began pacing back and forth, some of them frantically knocking their fellows to the ground. A few old birds that were determined to stand their ground, flapped their broad wings in protest, in an effort to force their neighbors off in other directions. Others, either more determined, or bullies, forced their way through their fellows, which resulted in small combats breaking out among them.
   This proved to be the breaking point for the rest of the flock numbering some 8,000 birds, who, not wanting to be hit by an ill-timed beak or wing, rose as one solid pink wall into the path of the oncoming plane. Immediately Jock yanked the controls back and the plane nosed up in an effort to go over their heads, only to run into the thick wave ahead that had already reached that height before it.
   "Damn birds!" cursed Jock. "I knew some damn thing like this would happen. Y'all hang on now! Fasten your belts. I'm gonna try my best to ride it out!"
   Gordon took his wife and son to the middle of the plane. He rummaged though their luggage and pulled out a couple of blankets and a jacket and wrapped them around the boy while trying to keep his balance. He then secured them with two belts, and amid much stumbling from the pitching of the ship, he managed to buckle in mother and child together and then himself next to them.
   "Oh Gordon," squeaked Patricia, with a sad and fearful expression. "Was I right in thinking that, that..."
   "No! No dear," interrupted the man, taking pity on the frightened woman. "No dear," he muttered apprehensively as he placed his hand upon the silver locket attached to a chain about the boy's neck.
   Flamingoes by the dozen flew head-on into the twin propeller buzz saws. Jock was flying blind but with bitter determination and hope. He tried to dodge some, only to hit others. He knew what to expect as a result of this winged storm of Mother Nature. But he fought on, silently and bravely. Could he have seen he would have seen the rushing, foaming rapids of the mighty river over which he was almost three-fourths across.
   The plane shook and rocked and dipped and rose with each impact. Cold beads of sweat rolled down the old veteran's forehead and cheeks. The Edwards were silent and praying. Gordon had his wife engulfed in his arms. Patricia, in turn, embraced the boy tightly in her arms. The only one aboard who was unaware of the peril at hand.
   Jock cheeks swelled and he swore within. The onslaught of birds seemed eternal. He knew that sooner or later the engines would be so clogged with feathers and screaming birds that there would be nothing that he could do, even if they weren't forced down first. Yet he fought on for there was nothing else that he could do.
   Suddenly the waves of flamingoes seemed to thin out. Jock showed signs of relief. He wiped the sweat from his brows, and taking a deep breath, exhaled loudly. The wings of the plane became visible beneath the layers of pink feathers glued to its surface by matted blood. Then out of nowhere a single flamingo rose up directly in front of the plane. Jock banked hard to the right only to run right into a lone pair who tried desperately to dodge the iron bird. They hit the blades with a thud and the motor, after a short whining noise, followed by a loud cranking screech, shut suddenly off.
   "Damn buzzards!" he cursed as the plane tipped and went into a spin and plummeted earthward. The last human sound heard from the plane was that of Mrs. Patricia Angelina Edwards.
   "Madre de Dios!" she exclaimed and voiced a frightened and horrified scream.
   The small plane spun and tumbled downward toward the up-reaching trees of the emerald jungle. With a terrific echoing impact the craft plunged into a huge silver oak and bounced to the bottom, snapping and breaking limbs as though they were frail filaments of an electric light bulb. The plane landed hard, surrounded by broken parts and the limbs and branches that it had brought with it.
   At the first sound of the descending plane, the majority of the creatures in the area were no longer. The advent of this sudden intruder had chased away every creature within three miles of the scene. Only a few bolder monkeys and parrots dared to stay and scowl and screech at the strange creature entering their home. As suddenly as the noise had come, it died, and the jungle was engulfed in an eerie silence. Only after a long while and very cautiously did the timid creatures come forth to resume their activities.
   The noise of the crash had disturbed another who did not run. A large female leopard. She growled her displeasure and her tail twitched from side to side as she listened to the falling plane disturb the jungle peace. Behind her crouched two spotted kittens, meowing excitedly. They were the last survivors of a litter of five. Two had died of a sickness and the other, a little too curious, had stepped into the jaws of a waiting crocodile.
   The family had just recently moved into the area. The three were a sorry skinny lot. It had been a long hard journey from their former hunting territory, which was now bare of game, to find a place that would support them. Along the way the mother cat hunted feverishly day and night, killing rodents and finding partly decomposed carcasses. The father cat had disappeared a few weeks prior to the death of the second cub. By the time the four remaining leopards reached the river country, another of the cubs had died from exhaustion and lack of nourishment. But now it looked as if the hunting would be fruitful for many a year to come, for this country was rich with game. The two remaining cubs would fill out to the plump sleekness of real leopards, instead of the skeletons they'd been on their long journey.
   As the ruckus of the descending plane and the clamor of the fleeing jungle creatures subsided, the mother leopard rose and started towards the entrance of the den. Close behind her were the two cubs, crowding her legs as she stopped in the entrance. A low growl rumbled from her throat and immediately the cubs scampered off to the rear of the den where they sat with up-pricked ears and watched their great spotted mother disappear into the deep foliage beyond the entrance.
   The big spotted cat traveled by one of her regular underbrush paths that she used often when hunting or taking the cubs to and from the den. After attaining a certain distance from her home, she bounded out onto the open jungle trail. Lush green grasses and yellow reeds grew in clumps along the floor of the forest. Thick vines and thin creepers, with brightly colored flowers and blossoms, hung loose and swaying above the ground, while firmly attached to the branches and trunks of their hosts through an intricate network of roots. Noisy birds fluttered and screeched, while barking monkeys scampered throughout the foliage, tossing nuts and branches, warning others of the presence of the great spotted cat.
   The leopard took in all of this, but her attention was directed solely upon the strange scent of the new creature that had invaded her newly acquired domain. Rapidly her pace increased and her hide rippled over the gaunt muscles in her shoulders and legs as she glided along. Presently she came to the recently disturbed area which was now swarming with several species of curious simians. In the midst of the ruckus she saw her foe. The intruder in her domain. She screamed forth her defiance and instantly the monkeys broke into a panic, screaming and leaping wildly in their fleeing efforts. She stalked her way up to the remains of a once excellent flying machine. She did not know the thing for what it was, and had she, she still would have still regarded it the same as any other member of her kind would. An intruder! Subject to destruction!
   Cautiously and curiously, with every nerve alert, she crept nearer and nearer to the plane. She immediately sensed that it was not a flesh and blood creature. But what was it? She stalked around it sniffing at it anxiously. About fifteen feet from the slightly squashed door she was brought to a startled halt by a sudden cry from within. The cry was repeated, growing longer and louder each time. The leopard seemed puzzled. She sat back on her haunches with her large spotted head cocked to one side like a puppy dog with an inquisitive expression in her eyes. The longer she sat listening to the crying thing within the more relaxed she became. The cry was familiar to her as it was to all mothers. She knew it to be the cry of the young for comfort and nourishment.
   Having recently lost three from her litter, the mother cat was deeply touched by the wailing thing. The call of motherhood outweighing caution, she went to the side of the ship and placed a paw within. With little effort she was within and stood for a moment, stiff and alert, allowing her eyes to focus and give her a better picture of the strange cave.
   The smell of death was stronger than that of any other scent. This, for a moment made her nervous, but soon the sobbing of the living overcame her and she went to it. Her nape hairs bristled as she came into contact with the two bodies that lay next to the boy, for fear of man is instinctive in all creatures. The fierce as well as the timid. She looked inquisitively at the child and purring softly she first patted him and then began clawing at his wrappings. Gradually the young Kevin ceased his crying and commenced to giggle. The cat licked his face and he renewed his struggle to free himself from the blanket. Unable to, he began to sob again in frustration. His helpless plight reached out and touched the savage creature who in response to the mother instinct answered the pleading call willingly.
   And so it was that a savage female leopard took the young waif by the blanket in which he was secured and bounded out of the plane. She trotted off in the direction from which she had come, dragging her newly adopted cub whose silver locket gleamed brightly in the hot African sun.

CHAPTER 2 * THE EARLY YEARS
   Six years had passed since the young boy's departure into the jungle with the leopard mother whom he had named L'Naura, in response to a vague and confused recollection lingering just out of his reach. His first year with his adopted family was the most troubling. He longed for his parents. He cried often and desperately searched for his mother. One day he stumbled upon the wreckage and spent a very distraught two days there before finally concluding that his parents were no where to be found. He returned to the plane several times for nearly a year, only to face continued disappointment. Thereafter he avoided it altogether, though the memory of his dark-haired smiling mother would linger strongly in forefront of his mind for several more years.
   Over the years Kevin often delighted himself with the sound of his own voice. He talked to his parents and sang fragments of Mexican songs that his mother had sang to him. He held conversations with imaginary friends, with L'Naura and the cubs, and with other local creatures. However, since none of them could respond this soon reverted to a boyish, made-up gibberish purely for his own amusement when he was bored. This was also how he came to name the cubs in each litter. Gradually he talked less and less, mostly for self-comfort when nightmares of vaguely familiar things haunted his sleep.
   Kevin had grown healthy and strong and was well schooled in the wild ways of the jungle. His body was richly tanned from exposure and his limbs were lithe and strong. His black hair had the deep hue of a raven's feathers, and his gleaming white teeth reflected the sun's rays when he smiled. Compared to other boys of the age of nine, he was a magnificent specimen of a child.
   But his health was hard earned. He had grown up with two litters of cubs and had become rather well versed in the hard-knock intricacies of leopard living. His foster-mother was now raising and teaching her third litter the art of survival. Already they were a year old. Within a year or so they would be leaving to make lives of their own, seeking out mates and establishing their own hunting grounds.
   Kevin though, not so soon. He was still dependent on his great spotted mother. It is true that he could hunt and provide for himself, and was aware of many of the secrets and dangers of his beautiful home. But he was still a child, with the emotions and whims of a child. However, with the persistent teaching and cuffing from L'Naura, he was learning. For had he not survived thus far the long periods of drought, intense rains that lasted days and sometimes weeks? Floods, fever, lacerations, and numerous scratches and bruises from falls and fights with his brothers. And of the latter, he had had his share of spats to establish himself in the pecking order of litters past and the present. Hand to claw he was no match with his peers when they grew older. But as a human with a calculating intellect he had other means of leveling the score. This he did quite well, establishing himself for the better part, a more or less dominant figure in each litter, though he was still somewhat physically inferior. L'Naura seemed to realize this and kept a close eye on her adopted cub. In the years to come he would doubtless be able to handle any situation, but for now he was still just a cub.
   There were five cubs in the current litter. Normally a female will have only two cubs and sometimes three. Perhaps this was a reflection of the plentiful food supply. It did however make L'Naura work harder to feed and take care of her large brood. There were two males, one spotted, one black, and three spotted females. The cubs and the boy were pretty close to each other and would play for hours in the cool tall grasses of the jungle, or in the small, secluded clearings where the sun peeped through. The boy was the only thing the cubs looked to besides their mother since they were born since he was there when they first opened their eyes to the world. He slept and ate with them and could speak their language, so he must be one of them they reasoned. Even though he looked a little strange for a leopard. Since mother accepted him, they did too.
   Kevin's closest companion was Safeer, the panther. They were always together, wrestling and stalking each other and the smaller creatures. They were forever getting into routine cub mischief. Their sister Rena was always following them, the result being the same as with most human kids. The boys just didn't want little sister tagging a-long all the time so at times they tried to out-distance her or chase her away. Sometimes neither worked.
   L'Naura kept a close watch over all of her brood. There was game aplenty and she had no trouble providing for them. Their den was the hollow of a great forest giant that had been struck down by lightning some years ago. Since then it had served as a home for the leopard family.
   The evening came on rapidly this day. Dark clouds swelled up in the sky. Treetops swayed to the pushing of the wind, while the birds flew restlessly about. L'Naura called to her cubs and they obediently followed her down the trail. One by one they followed, the boy in the middle with Safeer at his heels. All were silent and walked in the footprints of their mother. She did not hurry, nor was she meaning to take her time. Presently they came to a very thick clump of undergrowth that hid a barely discernable path leading into it. L'Naura squirmed into the maze, followed by the rest, the boy on his hands and knees at this point. Presently the growth opened up to reveal the giant charred tree that was their home. L'Naura growled and the cubs scampered inside. Then she entered.
   The inside was roomy and dry. A few remnants of gnawed bones were scattered about. Other than that it was fairly clean, a trait common to even the big cats. Betu, the other male, and Salira and Voota, the two females, resigned themselves to the bones, wrestling and gnawing on them. The boy and Safeer lay together facing the entrance. Safeer was dozing and the boy was watching his mother. Rena lay a few feet from them, her tail flickering mischievously.
   L'Naura was at the entrance watching the sky and the trees as they bent and swayed in the wind. She could sense the oncoming storm. She had been through them before and so had her cubs. The only real problem that it posed was that a prolonged period over several days would make hunting for her brood all but impossible. She glanced at her cubs, then yawned and stretched out at length in the entrance to wait for the inevitable.
   The jungle was dark now. No moon was in the sky that night. The winds howled and blew fiercely and the trees bent and cracked in submission. Thunder boomed and jagged streaks of lightening flashed, silhouetting the great trees against the black skies. All was quiet in the leopard den. They were either sleeping or watching the streaks of light slip by. Kevin had crept up behind his mother and laid with his head upon her broad back. Through drooping eyes he  watched the spectacle that always fascinated him. And thus he fell asleep, while the forces of Mother Nature stalked the jungle that night.
   L'Naura was out early the following morning. She examined the ground. It was moist from the little rain that had fallen later the night before. She looked around. A few birds fluttered among the branches. The sky was cloudy but blue. L'Naura's whole body emerged from the den and she called her cubs to follow. Towards the waterhole they headed. Surely there would be a tempting antelope or zebra or something. The cubs walked cautiously in the example of their mother, and most cautious of all, was the boy himself, his tanned muscular skin rippling gracefully with his every move.
   About a half a mile ahead of the family was the waterhole. It was a fairly large pool fed from an underground spring that ran from a river many miles away. Countless antelope and zebra, and many of the smaller creatures drank there. The waterhole drew its share of predators also. Leopards and snakes. Hyenas and Jackals and occasionally lions drifted in territories on the grassy veldt.
   This morning, a small herd of forest zebra came first to drink. They approached and ran away many times before they finally decided that there was no danger about. Others came. Antelope, monkeys, and a odd assortment of birds. And as always, each group had its own sentries. One never knew who was lurking behind the nearest bush, or in the most innocent looking clump of grass.
   L'Naura and her family approached from downwind so as not to give premature warning of their approach. One of her many lessons to the cubs. Only a flying bird or monkey watching from the treetops had the chance of spotting them. Finally reaching a position of favor, L'Naura crouched, her muscles tense and the tip of her tail flicking as she inched forward. The cubs followed her example, constantly watching their great savage mother. All seemed to know which animal had been singled out. This was one of the wonders of nature, that silent communication between animals. Slowly, cautiously, every muscle fiber tense and controlled, the cats crept forward. Kevin, also on all fours was very much the savage beast as his family, his nostrils straining for a scent, the short hairs on the nape of his neck bristling to match the intent look of the killer in his deep brown eyes.
   A few of the creatures departed and more came in their place. Still the victim lingered on. His companions had left to graze away from the water. The distance between him and death decreased. There was only a slight waving of the grasses to his rear which, had he noticed he probably would have attributed to the wind. But it was L'Naura gathering her mighty steel coiled muscles beneath her for the fatal spring. The cubs watched intently, waiting for their mother. The colt's head went down to drink again and L'Naura sprang.
   With a screaming snarl, she landed on the young zebra whose large brown eyes opened wide with panic as he bolted forward, to rid himself of the tearing, gripping talons engulfing him. Then of a sudden the rest of the family joined in. This was sport! Rena and Betu went for the quarters. Safeer, Voota, and Salira, worried the beast in an effort to trip it in its flight, while the boy, the savage little four and a half foot adopted cub, went straight for the head. Grabbing it, he held on, and his firm white teeth found a grip on the colt's neck. The combined weight of the cubs made it possible for L'Naura to move up to the colt's neck and pierce the jugular vein with hardly an effort. The colt fell heavily and L'Naura shook it violently, locked her jaws and held fast until the animal ceased its struggling. Then, satisfied that no life existed, she dragged the animal of into the protecting foliage, her young ones anxiously following.
   For what seemed a long time to the cubs finally ended. L'Naura dropped the carcass and began to eat, first eviscerating it. Then all joined in on the feast, tearing off large chunks of dripping red meat greedily, chopping them in two, then devouring them with one swallow. The boy ate like the rest, tearing what he could with his strong teeth. Only he had the added advantage of hands to use to help him eat easier. Still he was a leopard. His handsome young face was smeared red with the thick blood that dripped down his jaws to his chest, and stained the silver locket suspended around his neck as he crammed the warm flesh into his small mouth, growling all the while.
   When the meal was completed L'Naura hid the rest of the carcass in a tall tree at the edge of the jungle. They would come back to it when hungry again. Now she headed along the edge of the jungle. The way led to a small stream. Here they in turn satisfied their thirst, the boy taking the opportunity as he always did when near water, jumped in and splashed about laughing and throwing water at his brothers. It was in this method that he kept crudely clean, for the cool waters soothed his tender, hairless skin and made it feel good in the burning heat of the sun. He had tried to clean himself in the manner of his kind when he was younger. Somehow that method did not please him too well. Then one day when he was about five years old, while trying to get a drink from a slight bank, he slipped into the water. Shocked at first, he quickly overcame it and realized another use for the water besides drinking and gazing at his reflection. Thereafter, whenever possible, he never missed an opportunity to go into the water.
   L'Naura dozed as the cubs wrestled. Recently she slept more often, for the cubs were maturing and learning well how to take care of themselves. She did not have to watch them as much as when they were younger. Sometimes they would take off and be gone for an hour or two, but they always came back. L'Naura would survey them, yawn, and then go back to sleep. And it is probable that she slept light, for she was still a mother with young ones, the boy in her primitive terms, being the youngest.
   The cubs split up today. Betu and the two females went off on a romp. The ever-insistent Rena followed the boy and Safeer at a distance. The bronze colored boy and the glossy black panther trotted along the edge of the jungle watching the plains life engaged in their morning activities. Rena still followed. Safeer, noticing, hastened his pace. The boy picked it up, glancing back with a smile. It was fun to him. And maybe to Safeer too. Who knows?
   A slanting tree bole tempted them to climb and they did. Up to a broad branch they went and waited. The boy was just as nimble as the panther when it came to climbing. It was not long before they saw Rena loping along below them. She kept going. Evidently she was using her eyes and ears, for if she had of used her nose she might have noticed that her brothers' scent stopped at the tree that she just passed. At any rate she missed it and loped on by. The two cubs in the tree waited until she was out of sight then descended and started back in the other direction. This time they would get away and not have Rena along to get in the way.
   Rena loped along for a few hundred yards when she decided that she was on the wrong trail. She stopped and sniffed the ground and looked around. There was nothing in sight but the animals on the plains. And her brothers were not there, she could tell. She started back in the direction from which she'd come. Just before she reached the tree in which her brothers had hidden she heard something moving in the grasses to her right. She froze, ears pricked forward, her eyes searching the grass vainly. She whined and again movement came. Ah! It was the boy and Safeer! She sprang toward the grasses and out burst four squealing warthogs. Straight at her!
   The first one ran right into her leap and she gripped him with her claws. He squealed in pain and began to buck, slashing with his long tusks. The other hogs closed in around her and made passes at her with their sharp tusks. Rena loosened her grip and stood defiantly, snarling, surrounded by the now enraged hogs. They circled and rushed in. Rena met them with tooth and claw, driving them off as quickly and as painfully as she could. For a leopard, pound for pound, is one of the most savage fighters in all the jungle. Afraid of nothing!
   Safeer and the boy were beating a hasty retreat when Rena's scream came to their ears. They stopped to get the meaning of it then swiftly rushed off in her direction. The two arrived on the scene just in the nick of time. Rena was holding one pig by the neck and one lay dead at her feet. The other two were closing in on her for the kill.
   Like thunderbolts the boy and the panther joined the melee. Safeer hit the old sow, bowling her over with a mighty blow of his paw, then sought the neck as she lay half-stunned. The boy grabbed the other one, grasped its tail and ran around in circles with it until the animal was dizzy enough for him to straddle its back. His strong fingers choked and twisted, savage growls emitted from his throat, mingling with the squeals of the excited young hog.
   Rena had dispatched the pig she held and with newly found strength rushed to the aid of the boy. She hit the pig hard, knocking it to the ground with a blow that also sent the boy rolling across the ground. Just as quickly he was up and rushed again to quarters with his sister. She held the pig fast with her long claws while tearing at the thick neck with her sharp teeth. The boy grabbed the head and twisted with all his might. Suddenly it shuddered and lay still. Without hesitation their attention turned to the sow and Safeer.
   Safeer had been knocked down twice and was bleeding from the shoulder. But still he pressed the issue. As he sprung, so did Rena and the boy, all snarling loudly. That was the breaking point for the sow. She shook and twisted herself violently and started off into the jungle at a dead run. The cubs did not follow, but stood panting and relieved that the ruckus was over. Safeer licked his wounds the best he could, as did the other two. And here again the boy was an asset because he could rub the coats of his companions with grasses. After nosing the dead hogs for a second or two the three started back towards the clearing where their mother lay sleeping.
   The sun was high and hot when they returned. L'Naura was cleaning her coat. Salira was sleep, but Betu and Voota where nowhere to be found. L'Naura did not seem concerned and the three adventure-some cubs flopped down in the shade to nap.
   A little gray monkey in the tree above dropped a fruit that hit Kevin on the head, disturbing his rest. Snarling, he looked up, then smiled when he saw what had caused it. Monkeys had always fascinated him. They were funny little creatures, very nimble and agile in the trees. He would spend hours watching and even trying to imitate them. He delighted in the fact that they in turn would try to imitate him. This caused him many hours of enjoyment. He had also noticed that he much more closely resembled them than he did his own family. This puzzled him to no end, but eventually something would distract his thoughts and he'd dismiss it as any normal kid would do and pursue another interests.
   It was from the monkeys that he started climbing trees. In his persistent effort to imitate them and through a lot of falls and bruises, he learned to climb quite well, scampering along the branches almost as well as they could, or fling himself through space, from one branch to another.
   Once he got tangled in some vines that left him spinning in space some twelve feet above the ground, hanging by his ankle. After freeing himself there dawned upon his active mind a new sport. Swinging on vines to and fro as high as he could go. What a life the boy thought he had! A mother who would give her life to protect him, plenty to eat, plenty to drink, and day after day of fun! What more could a leopard cub want?
   About the early part of the evening L'Naura stirred. She was ready to move on. Voota had returned but Betu had not. She called and the monkeys set up a loud chattering. She bared her fangs at them. The animals on the veldt trotted off a little farther into the distance. A cloud of dust rose across the mountains in the distance.
   L'Naura started off in the direction that Betu had taken, the cubs in tow. They knew well enough what her intentions were. The leaves and grass crackled under their paws. Birds rose in front of them but they were ignored. A drop of water fell on L'Naura's right ear. She twitched it. Another drop fell. Followed by another and another. L'Naura paused long enough to look up. The clouds were forming again and the sky was growing darker every moment. She meowed and started for the den. The cubs followed silently one by one. The rain fell heavily and faster. L'Naura broke into a trot. The rain kept coming. Suddenly, a thunderous roar followed by a blinding flash filled the air. Then the rain seemed to come down in one solid mass. L'Naura broke into a gallop, her brood close on her heels. She soon darted into the thick underbrush that guarded the path to her den. The growth afforded temporary shelter until they reached the end of the maze.
  Finally, the water-soaked clan reached the den. Shaking off the excess water, they settled in the rear of the space and huddled together, the boy in the middle, watching the entrance and listening to the fury of nature gone wild. All that is, except Betu.
   The rain beat down heavily upon the jungle, stripping the leaves from the trees and pushing plants into the earth with its heavy drops. Lightning flashed and struck in a half dozen places while the thunder echoed and the wind howled a long and mournful howl. The sky was black and forbidding. All night the leopards watched as the rain beat down. All night they watched the entrance of the den but no Betu returned. Finally, towards morning, they drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep. It was as if they knew the unanswered answer.
   The storm raged on for two days. Day was just as dark as night. The jungle was dark and flooded with water. Fortunately the leopards' den was on high ground above the water level, the only thing that saved them from being washed out. Elsewhere and around them, trees were being uprooted and tossed about like toothpicks. Nowhere a creature stirred.
   L'Naura paced restlessly in front of the cubs. It had been two days and she had not hunted. Two days without food was not too bad but soon the cubs would become restless and irritable, fighting and bickering among themselves from being cramped inside for so long. Then the suggestion of hunger would make things worse. L'Naura growled and snarled at the storm, but it did not heed.
   On the night of the third day the lightning and thunder stopped. L'Naura noticed and immediately went to the entrance of the den. It was still raining but not as heavy. She stood there for a long time sniffing the air and listening. Safeer and Kevin came up behind her. She growled and Safeer went back to the rear of the den. The boy kept coming until he reached his mother's side. He whined fearfully and a snarling L'Naura cuffed him a blow that sent him reeling. With a snarling scowl the boy retreated and flopped down beside his brother.
   Presently the rain slowed enough to allow L'Naura to leave the den. She disappeared into the jungle night, a shadow among shadows. All was quiet. Not a creature stirred. L'Naura prowled the jungle alone that night.
   It was a tired mother that returned to the den in the morning. Her cubs came forth to greet her as she entered the den but there was no reward. She had made no kill. The cubs snarled their disapproval. They were hungry. L'Naura growled back and led them from the den, from which they were all too eager to leave. In the direction of the waterhole they traveled, silent and watchful. The whole jungle was silent and still, not even a bird flew.
   A ray of sunlight broke through the clouds and a strong wind pushed them along. A rainbow showed on the horizon and the wind faltered and began to whisper softly. But this meant nothing to the cats for they were hungry and that was all. Except Kevin. The shinning sun meant warmth for him and he welcomed it for his naked body did not have the fine, warm coat of his family.
   Every now and then L'Naura would stop to look, listen and sniff. Nowhere could she find sign of game, living or dead. Surely the storm had taken its toll and left death behind. But this time there was no trace. On they went. The waterhole was to the left of them and toward this they headed. Cautiously, lest they warn some creature that might be drinking. Like shadows they melted through the tall grasses, their eyes, noses, and ears all tuned in ahead of them. Right to the very edge of cover they crept to a spot where they could get a view of the watering place and its occupants.
   L'Naura voiced a snarl of disapproval. The place was abandoned. Branches and half a tree lay in the pool. There were no tracks of any kind. The cubs sniffed around the pool in an effort to find something. All to no avail. Nothing! L'Naura turned towards the veldt. She broke into a swift swinging trot. She quickened pace to force the cubs to keep up.
   The veldt was bare. Not one sign of life showed itself. She snarled and started across towards the big river, the cubs trailing in single file. They growled and snarled at each other, sometimes swatting the unlucky one nearest them. And Kevin received as well as gave his share of the punishment. They were all in an ugly mood and L'Naura sensed that it would be best to keep them moving, lest they fall to serious fighting among themselves.
   About a hundred yards from the river L'Naura stopped, her ears pricked forward. The cubs followed her example. Crouching, she stalked forward towards the still object lying in the flattened grass. The thing had not moved since she'd spotted it and being upwind she could not catch its scent. Cautiously she moved, only her tail twitching erratically with excitement. The yardage melted down, still the thing did not move. L'Naura was about ten yards away as she crouched for the spring. Suddenly the wind shifted. The big cat moaned and stood up. The thing still did not move and she knew it would never move again.
   It was Betu. Water-soaked and broken, a branch protruding from his left ribcage. L'Naura called her brood and led them on. They passed their brother with indifference. All except the boy. Had it been another creature of the wild he would not have given it a glance. But here the human emotions of something close stirred within the lad. He could not explain his feelings, but they were there, however slight. However, the law of survival was stronger even to this small feral boy, and with only a slight pause at Betu's carcass, he turned and followed in the wake of his family.
   The trek across the veldt to the river turned out to have some luck. On the way they found three fallen birds and quickly consumed them amidst angry squabbling. This little amount only further irritated them as they chased the scattered feathers, for their hunger was still unfulfilled.
   The river had over-run its banks and was running swiftly. Uprooted trees sailed swiftly along in the rapid current, twisting and turning as they went. Nowhere was there a creature to be seen. Not even a crocodile. The whole world seemed deserted. There would be no survival in a land without food. L'Naura growled and started off down river, crossing it at a log jammed bend.
   They followed the river for three days, occasionally coming across a partly decomposed carcass or a dead rodent or two. Though leopards prefer fresh killed meat or meat from one of their cached kills, in a time of need they will eat carrion. And this they did, the boy included. Again the boy had a slight advantage. Along the way he'd occasionally find edible fruits or roots or nuts, which would help to keep him sustained until they could make a kill and feast on the hot warm flesh he enjoyed so well. Meat was the main diet of the hunter, and hunter was young Kevin Michael Edwards, the leopard's cub.
   By the end of the fourth day signs of life began to reappear. The storm had reached far, driving many animals from their homes. The night of the fourth day they made a kill.
   Having stuffed themselves until they could hold no more the family slept well into the next day. That evening they ate what was left and started inland led by L'Naura.
   For the better part of five weeks the cats went on, hunting as they went. The farther they went the more prey they found. It was ideal country. They crossed many hills and valleys full of game of all varieties. The cubs became stronger and healthier than ever as a result of this land of plenty.
   L'Naura found an ideal place in a thickly forested plateau above a fertile valley that opened at one end to a broad plain upon which dwelt numerous elephants, antelopes, zebra, and buffalo, the latter of which the boy had never seen before. Something inside though told him that these animals were dangerous indeed and not to be taken lightly.
   The other end of the plateau held a beautiful lake surrounded by  rich green plants and huge trees with long curving branches. The area teemed with monkeys and birds of all sorts as well as numerous hoofed animals. The lake also contained a few crocodiles. They seemed to concentrate near the many streams the lake branched into, some of them in turn forming a couple of well foliaged lagoons.
   It was near one of these lagoons that L'Naura found the new home. A cave covered by moss and ferns and its entrance partly protected by creepers and tall grasses. L'Naura inspected the new place. She entered cautiously and emerged a few moments later and lay down in front of it thereby staking her claim. The cubs immediately made themselves right at home. The curious Kevin entered the cave, his heart pounding with excitement. He stalked around it, examining as much as he could in the light that was available with Safeer right at his side.
   The following months were spent exploring the new territory. Everywhere there was game enough for a lifetime. They explored every possible nook and cranny of their small secluded world looking for the best ambush places, the local drinking holes, game trails, and the best places to sun their bodies while napping. During that time they were fortunate enough to make kills at the lagoon near the den. But repeated hunts soon impressed upon the local creatures that the lagoon now held an added amount of danger for them. Now they came more cautiously and sometimes not at all. So L'Naura and her brood had to adjust their hunting tactics. Instead of frequenting the same place time after time they found it better to rotate around the area. This way they were assured of success.
   The monkeys continued to frequent the area. Nothing seemed to stop them. Bold and daring they were. Even on occasions taunting the leopards at their den. Sometimes they went a little too far and fell prey to one of the cats who readily made quick disposal of them. All except the boy that is. Since he was six years old, he had not touched a monkey, as far as eating one. He liked them. They were amusing and funny. They stirred his imagination and curiosity and brought out the boyish mischief in him. Though it would be safe to assume that if he were hard pressed with hunger, he would not hesitate to eat one.
   Occasionally Kevin would take to the trees in an attempt to catch and play with one of the little nuisances. Always they went to the highest thinnest branches where the boy's weight could not be supported. But still he tried, enjoying it to the fullest. And always like a haunting ghost came that feeling of familiarity. He wondered if he were not truly some kind of strange monkey that perhaps L'Naura had captured to raise. He could not fully understand what he was trying to comprehend so the thought never lasted long in his mind. He only enjoyed life and living it.
   Kicking Safeer playfully, he leaped upon his back and the two rolled across the mouth of the den in mock battle, the snarls of the two mingling, sounding as one. The boy carried bruises from such rough play to be sure, but they were hardly noticed because of the tropical sun's healing powers. The boy's rich brown tan blended them right in. These were his medals of combat, a testimony of the experience and prowess he was developing to fend for himself.

 CHAPTER 3 * DISCOVERY
   Early one evening about a year later found young Kevin sitting by the edge of the lagoon thoroughly engrossed with the silver locket that hung from his neck. While drinking he had noticed its reflection in the water. This called his attention again to the shinny thing that had caused him many hours of wonderment and perplexity. He would sniff it, turn it over and over, and inspect it intently, yearning to unravel its deep secret. That it had remained around his neck during his early years was somewhat of a miracle in itself. And when he did finally become aware of its presence, it was a prized possession. One that he constantly checked to make sure was still there.
   How it got there he was not sure, though somewhere in the recesses of his memory, it seemed as though something was trying to surface from his inner depths, though it never came. Scattered and fragmented images of the wrecked airplane swirled in his head in the form of nightmares. He had visited the wreck only twice and thereafter avoided it because of the inner turmoil that it caused him. Even though this was the only clue he had that this shiny babble held a link to his being. But none the less though, while he did not unduly trouble himself over the matter, he was proud of his trinket and the way it reflected the rays of the sun, casting little rays of light upon himself and nearby objects.
   Even the cubs were at times fascinated by the glittering object and the tiny rays of light it reflected about. Sometimes the boy would let them nose or paw it. Other times he would mostly bare his fangs, snarling his warning in protection of his cherished possession. And what a sight that ten year old made, his sleek brown back arched like his spotted brothers, a menacing snarl wrinkling his handsome face, while from his throat rumbled the forbidding gutturals of an angry leopard ready to fight to the death. And this the boy would do, even though pitifully inadequate in comparison with his brothers. Still, he was very much a leopard as the leopards he lived with.
   A lone warrior trotted into the valley from the veldt. He was tall and muscular, his skin a rich dark brown, and glistened in the light of the yellow sun. A zebra-skinned loincloth covered his otherwise nakedness, while from his neck and arms suspended several necklaces and wristbands of gold, copper, and leather. On his back hung a quiver of arrows and in it a short bow. In his right hand he carried a long stout spear, its blade the better part of two feet long. At this side was a little leather pouch and tied through one of the thongs of the pouch was a crucifix.
   There was no fear upon his face. Only caution. For one must always be alert if he wishes to survive in the jungle. He made his way easily for the trail was open and worn, and the man seemed tireless as he glided along, his ebon muscles flowing freely as he moved. Evidently he knew the country for he would turn upon each new trail without the slightest hesitation. His only concern was the time, for he constantly watched the sun as it began its steady descent. It was growing late.
   Within an hour, he had succeeded in getting to the far end of the lake and was proceeding towards the jungle bordering the hills. Once, he stopped to rest, leaning against a tree. Within minutes he was up, gazed at the sun, nodded approvingly with a smile and started out again. A little path veered off to the right and this he took, his skin soaked under beads of sweat.
   Up ahead by the lagoon L'Naura and her cubs were feeding on an antelope that had strayed from the main herd. Having devoured enough to satisfy himself Kevin had gone to the water's edge to slake his thirst and lay there running his hands back and forth, rippling his image each time the water stilled. Why the image came back he could not imagine. But it did and the pleasure in seeing it distorted and then reappear excited him to no end. Such a life!
   Suddenly all heads turned towards the jungle! Something was coming. Swiftly. Boldly. L'Naura moved a few paces from the antelope and crouched, waiting and watching the direction from which the noise was coming. The cubs were all attention. Kevin, his nostrils flared, tried to catch a scent as he moved up behind the great spotted body of his mother. The trail passed right by the lagoon and ran on along the edge rather than to the water's edge. Whatever was coming would pass right before the cats. Their interest however was one of curiosity rather than hunger since they had just made a kill. So they waited patiently as the sounds of the visitor became louder and louder. Now he was just beyond the bend.
   The warrior came swiftly on, a very confident expression upon his face, his spear held nimbly in hand. He must have known the lagoon was there for instead of turning right with the path he cut off to the left of it just as it began its turn and came to a startling halt. A shocked and unbelieving expression, undoubtedly mingled with a little fear, distorted his once relaxed face as he came face to face with six snarling leopards! No! Five leopards and... A boy! A boy from whose throat came the same menacing snarls as the spotted cats! L'Naura rose from her crouch. The boy rose also and started towards the man, whose feet suddenly became unglued. He spun around and sped away, occasionally glancing over his shoulder.
   Kevin was a little dumbfounded. Here was a thing in his exact image though his skin was darker and he was much larger than himself. He was also elated, puzzled and goaded with a curiosity to find out more about this thing that fate had suddenly thrust upon him. Inside him there seemed to be a yearning, a sensation of belonging that was tugging at him. His mind reverted back to the times he had compared himself to the monkeys and apes. Now he knew he was not an ape. He was much more related to this creature with the strange things on its body. He would have to find out!
   From the time that the man had appeared and disappeared, it was only a matter of a minute or two for Kevin to make up his mind as to what course of action to take. With an excited whine of anticipation he started out after the retreating figure. Safeer was on his heels. Rena started after her brothers, but a snarl from L'Naura brought her back. The boy and Safeer only growled their objections and kept going.
   Soon they were within earshot of the fleeing man, whom it sounded, had settled down to a swift trot. The boy and the panther loped along not really wanting to over take the man but not wanting to lose him either.
   Once, Rama stopped to rest and gather his thoughts. And when he chanced to look down the trail some hundred yards and saw the panther and the boy stalking him he was all too convinced that his eyes had not deceived him. Rising, he launched his spear. It fell short by twenty yards. With renewed strength Rama continued down the trail, at the same time snatching his bow from his quiver, along with an arrow, which he notched on the string. All in one swift motion.
   When Kevin reached the point where the spear protruded from the ground he halted, his muscles stiff, his nose sniffing. He stalked stiff-legged around the slender thing, glaring and suspicious. In some ways it almost resembled a sapling, but it wasn't. Safeer held back, snarling. But the curiosity of the boy got the better of him finally and he had to grab it. When he did he seized it swiftly and tightly in both hands, his teeth bared, ready to bite in case it should seek to free itself.
   When the spear made no effort to defend itself the boy stood it on end and let it go. It fell to the ground. Kevin eyed it intently, looking for signs of life. Finally noting that the man was getting further down the trail and that since this strange stick had been carried by him, it must not be harmful. So the boy picked up his new found possession, taller than him by nearly three feet, and started down the trail, beaming brightly, though he was not sure of its purpose.
   All night long Rama kept up his grueling pace, glancing over his shoulder, alert to every sound, convinced that at any moment he would be overtaken by his strange pursuers. Some time well into the morning Rama had slowed his pace. The daylight had lifted his confidence. And he was sure that the strange creature no longer followed him. With this in mind he stopped to rest and presently dozed off.
   In a way he was correct, for Kevin, though determined to learn more, was still a youth, and he yielded to youthful needs. Food and sleep! He could pick up the spoor afterwards for it was very fresh.
  Rama awoke with a start, his face drenched in sweat. He grabbed his bow, jumped to his feet, and backed away slowly. There, not more than fifty yards away was a naked, black haired boy with a silver locket suspended from a silver chain hanging around his neck, staring at him. Beside him stood a large panther, growling deeply, its tail lashing back and forth. Kevin stepped forward, a snarl escaping his lips, and Rama turned and fled.
   The setting sun peeped on the strange travelers. The boy and the panther following doggedly and Rama the warrior, trotting swiftly to reach his village and leave his pursuers behind. Even though Kevin had never been to this part of the valley before it bothered him not, for he was determined to see this strange creature again. It was an answer to a lot of his yearnings and questions. And he was not about to give up.
   Once he had to stop for Safeer because the big cat was not accustomed to such continued exertion. But it did not matter for the scent spoor of the man was strong upon the trail, and because of this, sight of the quarry was not needed. The trail led up to the hills and into them. The jungle became thicker and the ferns were huge and sweet smelling. Monkeys were scolding and birds screeched while settling themselves for the night. Far off in the distance a lion roared. He was in turn answered by another not so far off. But this was of no concern to the boy. He knew that he could be well out of reach in a great tree before a lion got within striking distance. And then too, lions rarely traveled the deep jungle.
   Even in the dark Rama knew his way. He had heard the distant roar of the lion and the closer one. But this did not deter him for lions were real. As he reached the top of the hill he stopped and breathed a sigh of relief, then started down the long trail towards the many fires that flickered in the village.
   As Rama entered the village, Kevin and Safeer had reached the top of the hill overlooking it. The boy's eyes opened wide with wonder and astonishment at the sight that they beheld. Never before in his entire life had he seen anything as remarkable as this. The many fires glowing in the village and the way the creatures there traveled around them and fed them sticks caused a tingling sensation up and down his spine. He could not locate his quarry, but no need now, for that place with all the fires must be where he was headed. Fire had always meant death to him, but these creatures seemed to be not the least bit afraid or concerned by it. And so many of them too!
   Excitedly the boy descended towards the village for a closer look, his curiosity raised to its peak. Safeer went solely because he was strongly attached to his strange brother, though he was wont to understand some of the things that the youth did. But togetherness is a strong bond among brothers and these two were no different.
   When Rama entered the village several of its occupants noticed him and ran to greet him, jabbering excitedly, gesturing. Rama jabbered back, keeping his dogged trot towards the adobe house near the center of the village. He ran up the stairs of the wooden porch, followed by a crowd of curious people who had been aroused by the man's excited appearance.
   "Brother Ragal! Brother Ragal!" he banged on the big wooden door. "Brother Ragal come quick!"
   A larger crowd had now gathered and some were beginning to wonder what was troubling Rama, as they looked doubtfully and expectantly into the jungle. Others taunted and teased the man. Finally an old man stepped forward and laid a hand upon Rama's shoulder. The result was electrifying. Rama stiffened, then tried to run up the door. The old man drew back then reached out again, grabbing Rama by the shoulder and spinning him around. Rama relaxed and slumped into a chair next to the door. He breathed a long sigh of relief.
   "I thought you were the Kazar-Cowhini grabbing me, M'gato!"
   "What Leopard god?" demanded the old man, plucking his brows. "Perhaps your journey has exhausted you."
   The door opened behind him and out stepped a tall, bearded man in black. A ruddy colored man of the cloth obviously, from the white collar, and the brown wooden crucifix that hung from his neck.
   "What's the trouble here?" he came right to the point.
   "Brother Ragal, I have just escaped from the claws of the Kazar-Cowhini out there in the jungle! He and his black brother sought to devour me! But I outran them," he stated proudly.
   "Now hold on. Let me get this straight. You say that you were almost eaten by a Leopard god and a panther?"
   "Yes Brother Ragal. By the Blue Lagoon," he pointed in the direction from which he'd just come.
   Brother Ragal sat on the porch stairs and casually leaned against the porch pillar. He crossed his arms and sighed. "Now, tell me from the beginning how you met this Leopard god."
   "I was coming through the valley from the Tuari plains. I took the short cut. There was plenty of wildlife. Two bulls fighting over a herd of cow buffalo. Elephants. A lioness gnawing on a bone. And a few leopard tracks. I was going to stop at the Blue Lagoon to drink and rest before continuing. It was there by the feeder stream that I almost ran into their mouths. A large mother leopard with four nearly grown cubs. They were feeding on an antelope. The mother rose and growled. Then the cubs also rose and growled. It was then that the Cowhini appeared. He growled as savagely as the cats themselves and I could not tell their voices apart. He was very fierce Brother."
   "What did this god look like Rama?" interrupted Ragal.
   "A boy, Brother! He was very brown! With long black hair! Wearing a silver locket on a chain around his neck. A strong, good-looking boy. But a young boy too! I think that maybe he was a white boy, Brother. About eight or ten years old. But..." he scratched his head.
   "What do you mean, Rama? You think he was white?" Ragal probed.
   "He was very brown, but not like the brown of a white man who has been in the sun a lot. Not the same type of brown as you have, Brother.
   "Hmmm," Ragal mused. "And then what happened?"
   "When he came towards me I turned and left quickly for I knew that boys do not live with leopards. So then I knew that it must be a Cowhini. Even my spear that I threw at them fell short. And all in the village knows that none can cast a spear as far or as accurate as I. Then the Cowhini and the panther followed me all night and day. They are probably out there somewhere now," he gazed beyond the village. "Watching!"
   At this suggestion several of the interested onlookers cast suspicious glances out toward the escarpment from which Rama had just come. Rama was one of the greatest warriors in the village and not easily shaken so it was no wonder that some took his words to heart. But then too he had been on a very long journey, and possibly the strain of the trip had began to take its toll towards the end, making him imagine things. Such was not uncommon, for the jungle can be a friend or a relentless foe, especially if pushed to the end of one's endurance. The villagers were muttering and mumbling to themselves while Rama sat silently watching the bearded man, his forehead wrinkled in thought as he stroked his beard.
   "Well," shrugged Brother Ragal. "That's a pretty amazing story. You might have seen the panther stalking you. He was curious probably. There are plenty of leopards around here you know. But a boy! It's hard enough for an African boy to survive here, let alone a white boy or whatever. And living with leopards out there in the jungle! I don't know. But we'll see."
   "But I saw him Brother! With my own eyes! By the gods I swear it," he said solemnly.
   "By what?" Brother Ragal snapped.
   "By Almighty God, Brother," the man returned, half-apologetic.
   Brother Ragal addressed the milling crowd and told them that everything was all right. That Rama was overly exhausted from his long journey and needed some rest. He assured them, or at least tried to assure them, as much as their superstitions would be swayed, that there was no Kazar-Cowhini, And if so, that he would find him. Turning to Rama he bid him to go to his house and rest, for it was evident that he was on the verge of collapsing. Rama was all too willing to turn in for the night, and made his way to his house, with a small following behind him.
   Chief Bulan stood silently leaning against the doorframe of his house, then disappeared within. Brother Ragal watched the people as they went departed for their own houses. Gradually the night noises in the surrounding jungles drowned the diminishing voices of the villagers as they turned in. Rama was a great hunter and fearless warrior, this he knew. But even the strong can fall prey to hallucinations from fatigue and over exhaustion. Turning, he went back into his house.
   "Leopard god," he chuckled, shaking is head in amusement. He wondered what Chief Bulan was thinking.

   Kevin and Safeer had halted at the jungle's edge, just outside of the village, and climbed into a tree overlooking it. Though it was dark, the lights from the fires gave enough so that he could see fairly well, some of the activity within. A crowd of people he saw flocking towards the center of the strange place. He could also hear their strange jabbering. Propping the spear against the bole, he climbed higher that he might better observe what was going on. His little heart beat rapidly with excitement as his eyes took in the sights before him. There were many such creatures like the one that he had followed. Big ones, little ones like him, and thin bent ones, evidently old ones. Stretching out on a stout limb he laid his nut-brown chin on his crossed hands and watched the excitement beyond.
   One thing that he did notice as the congregation went towards the center of the village was that of all the creatures there, only the little ones like him went naked as he did. The rest had the skins of animals about their middles, and or shoulders. He saw that some of them wore what appeared to be little, round, shiny-colored stones and odd-shaped bits of colored wood around their arms, legs, and necks! Then he remembered his locket. Yes, he must be one of them too, for was he not wearing something similar around his neck!
   His head perked up when he recognized Rama. An excited whine escaped his lips. Then he saw the strange cave suddenly open up and out stepped another creature as they, except that he was covered all over with even stranger skins. Skins he found vaguely familiar from his elusive past. And his face was covered with hairs! As the light of the fires flickered leaping up and down, the features of the man became more visible to the boy. This creature was even more like him! His skin, though dark from exposure, as was his, somewhat the same color as his. Now Kevin knew that he was not some strange monkey or ape. But neither was he sure of what he was!
   It was a much fulfilled and excited little leopard boy who fell asleep in the crotch of a great forest giant as the village fires flickered and faded into the jungle night. Beside him lay Safeer the panther, quickly becoming a sleek and powerful cat as his sire was before him.
   Somewhere in the distance an elephant trumpeted and was answered by the cough of a lion out on the veldt. The night loon cooed to the rising moon, while beneath it, the little sun-browned body of a boy lay in a deep and peaceful slumber, dreaming dreams of one of the most exciting days of his life.

CHAPTER 4 * A SUPPRISE MEETING
   Morning found the boy wide-awake and keenly interested in the activities of the villagers as they began their day. The women and children came forth, gathering wood and water for the cooking fires and breakfast, while the men strutted about yawning and stretching, waiting impatiently for their meals to be prepared. As the flames of the cooking fires began to leap into the new day Kevin was reminded that he too was hungry. He looked around for Safeer and after a while saw him sitting on the ground beneath him. With a smile he grabbed the spear that he had procured the day before and descended, landing lightly beside the great black panther. Poking the big cat with the butt of the weapon he started off in search of food. Down towards the village the trail led him and the cat, their ears and noses ever alert, straining to catch the least sound and scent of nearby game.
   As they made their way the wind shifted, bringing to their nostrils the fragrant scent of buffalo? No! The two tested the smell again. There was a familiarity in the odor, yet it was strange. But tantalizing indeed it was! Slowly the boy and the panther began to stalk the odor, determined to find the author of so delicious a scent.
   The edge of the jungle gave way to a short flat stretch of grassy plain. There were a few scattered clumps of brush and an occasional tree, most of which were bordering the other end of the village. Hesitating but a brief second the boy started immediately across the open space towards the first clump of bushes. Safeer paused, his upper lip curled slightly. The boy glanced back, growled and kept going. Reaching the first clump of brush he crouched within its sheltering leafy branches. Safeer paced to and fro at the jungle's edge then bounded out onto the plains and joined his brother. From there the two went together, testing the wind, watching the village and its inhabitants, and melting from cover to cover in an effort to stay undetected. The blood flowed fast and hot within the boy. His mind was spinning and reeling with wonder, question and excitement as they neared the village.
   Just a few yards from the palisade fence that encircled the houses, the two halted. Every muscle was tense, ready for flight or combat, for one must always be alert in the jungle to survive. It was the only way.
   Peering through the wooden fence, the boy's mouth dropped, while his eyes opened wide in amazement at the sights he beheld. The majority of the people were sitting or squatting in front of their houses, eating. Others jabbered back and forth to each other in a strange jargon that the boy could not understand. The chattering of monkeys it reminded him of. As the aroma of the cooked food drifted to his nostrils, his stomach tugged at him, reminding him again that he too was hungry.
   Following the fence, he picked up the original scent he had been following. It became stronger and more tempting as they went. Safeer licked his chops in anticipation and Kevin flashed one of his quick shinning smiles, his eyes searching vainly for the author of the strange new scent. Finally the noise of animals came to their ears among the other sounds of the village. Buffalo? No. But certainly similar. However, they were nearby and a few more feet would unfold the answer. Through the fence they saw. No, they were not buffalo, but there was a resemblance. Safeer meowed subtly. He paced along a short section of the fence, occasionally testing a pole with an armed paw. The bristling hairs standing on his back signaled his excitement. He was hungry and this new game was subduing his instinctive caution so that his nerves were near shattered. A few feet further revealed a hole in the fence just big enough for the two to squeeze through. He did not know it, nor would it probably have mattered that some kid whose job it was to tend the cattle and goats had made this gap in order to briefly escape the responsibility at hand.
   The two sat before the gap, the boy peering through at the villagers, his mind tossing end over end. For some time they sat, then once again the pains of hunger spoke. The boy eyed the cattle greedily, as did Safeer. But neither could muster the courage to pass through the gap. Finally after what seemed an eternity, the two turned simultaneously and started back towards the jungle a little farther from where they had exited.
   Within an hour, an antelope fell prey to the two deadly creatures. After filling themselves, water was the next step. After satisfying the first important call of the day, Kevin started back to the village. He skirted the fence, peering intently, so as not to miss a thing as he circumvented the palisade. As he neared the gate to the village, he halted. Several people were entering and leaving, carrying sticks and bundles in their arms and on their heads. Some of the men, the older ones particularly, carried the long slender sticks such as the one that had been thrown at him the other day. He gazed at the spear in his hand. Maybe he would find a purpose for the thing at that.
   A boy came wandering in their direction. Kevin's whole attention was riveted on him. He was about Kevin's size, nut brown, and naked like himself. He was humming to himself as he fumbled his way through the tall grasses. Safeer growled and instinctively drew back. It seems that all wild creatures are born with knowledge of the one creature that instills fear and hatred into everything that it comes in contact with. The boy, however, shoved him aside and started towards the child, the spear loosely grasped in his hand.
   The child was fumbling with a copper bracelet as he went so he did not notice the figure standing before him. That is not until he bumped into him. His little brown eyes opened wide with astonishment and his mouth dropped almost a foot as he beheld the figure before him. A naked black haired boy holding a spear and wearing a bright smile that should have conveyed friendly intentions. And maybe it would have until Safeer strolled into view and sat at the boy's side. Kevin did not move. He stared at the trembling youngster who was now secreting great beads of sweat. The copper bracelet slipped from his hand, forgotten in the face of this sudden terror. Kevin spotted the shinny thing the moment it fell and he stooped to pick it up. He held it out to the boy who thrust his hands behind his back, shaking his head negatively back and forth.
   For an instance the smile on Kevin's face faded in puzzlement, then reappeared when he noted that the boy was very keenly regarding Safeer sitting behind him. Standing, he placed a hand on the lad's shoulder and snarled, pointing to the cat sitting there almost indifferently. The boy trembled at contact of Kevin's hand. But then he realized that there was no pressure or force behind it and some of his shivering ceased and a little ray of confidence began to shine on his face. Kevin, quick to notice the change, stepped back a few paces to the side of the panther and sat down beside him. He motioned to the boy to come closer. Again the boy began to show signs of nervousness. Again Kevin smiled and motioned the boy over to him.  But still the boy eyed the cat with suspicion and fear.
   Safeer, being a cat, was also quick to notice the fear and like any of the jungle bred, was an opportunist and sought to impress others with his great strength and ferocity. Rising, he started towards the trembling child, who was now on his hands and knees crying. Kevin watched them intently. Since they had just fed he knew that the boy was in no danger of being eaten. But he knew that Safeer sometimes had his moods and this prompted him to leap to the cat's side and grab a handful of neck hair.
   Safeer glared at the small puny man-child kneeling before him and grumbled. He pulled away from Kevin's grasp and stalked a circle around the frightened child. Presently, he moved right up to the boy and licked his hand, then flopped down beside him and placed his great head at his knees. Kevin laughed out loud and poked the boy on the shoulder. Slowly the boy uncovered his face to look into that of the panther who was purring softly as he rubbed his head against his naked brown thigh, much like a house cat would do. This, plus Kevin's laugh seemed to re-assure the youth that maybe all was well after all. He reached out and touched the great cat's head. Safeer closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide, yawning, showing his huge pearly white fangs. The boy momentarily drew back and Kevin flopped down beside him and tugged Safeer on the ear, laughing as a schoolboy would who had just put a frog in the teacher's desk drawer.
   Almost immediately Safeer was up and he and his brother were engaged in a wrestling match, much to the surprise of the village boy, who presently was laughing and then jumping up and down clapping his hands in excitement.
   Presently, the tumbling ceased and the two sat panting, the boy smiling at his new audience who was like-wise smiling at him. Then the younger boy strode over to the two and placed a hand on Kevin's shoulder, uttering a sound to which the black haired boy shook his head.
   "Jambo."
   The boy repeated the same sound as he patted the head of the big cat panting at the boy's side. Though he could not understand the boy, Kevin knew that it was good, the strange gesture. Especially since it was accompanied with a smile. He was equally elated by the sound of the boy's voice. It conjured up long suppressed memories that cried out to him. He struggled briefly to repeat the boy's words.
   "Ja-a-am-bo."
   Then as though remembering something, he searched the ground around them until he found the bracelet again and picking it up, he handed it to the boy. The boy gazed at it in slight thought then reached out and took Kevin's left arm and slipped the bracelet around his wrist, again repeating the strange sound.
   Kevin flashed a smile in return and again haltingly repeated the word. Picking up his spear he handed it to the boy who accepted it with a pleasing smile. When he examined it his eyes opened wide with astonishment, for in the carvings and designs on the shaft was the mark of his Uncle Rama! The boy gazed at the cat and the black haired boy, then the spear. He then broke out into a long, loud laugh. Kevin, not understanding, but equally excited, joined in just to be part of things, for no child likes to be left out, and Kevin, the leopard's cub was no different in this regard.
   "Rama," the boy shook the spear with a grin. "Rama. Tekumbe," he poked himself in the chest with a thumb. Kevin had no idea what he was saying but sensed that it meant something good.
   "B-b-bu-en-o," a vaguely familiar word struggled out of his mouth, surprising even him.
   Presently there came loud sounds from the village and the little native boy turned with a start, a serious expression upon his face. Motioning towards the village he uttered some strange sounds to Kevin and started off in that direction. Kevin snarled and the boy halted and turning towards him waved, at the same time repeating the warm sounding "Jambo," with a big smile on his handsome face. Instinctively, Kevin waved back and repeated, "Jam-bo," with a satisfying smile.
   As the little native boy departed towards the village, Kevin and Safeer trotted out across the plains towards the jungle, his little heart beating rapidly, his body quivering with excitement. This day would long be remembered. And so it was that fate had begun to kindle the fires of a long and binding friendship.
   When Kevin and Safeer reached the jungle, the boy paused to look back towards the village. It was alive with life, but nowhere could he see signs of his new found friend. With a shrug he turned towards the jungle hills that led back to his den. He would return, of this he was certain. Nothing could keep him from doing so. Fingering his bracelet he trotted on, glancing back repeatedly over his shoulders at the village until the thick jungle hid it from view. Yes, he would return he thought as he fingered the copper bracelet.

   When Moganu awoke that morning she did not see her little Natu on his cot. So she figured he had risen early and gone fishing, as he was sometimes prone to do in the mornings. She went about the business of preparing the breakfast fire for him, and her husband who was probably out hunting with some of the other warriors. Humming a favorite folk tune she went about her chores, as did the other women of the village.
   Brother Ragal was also up and about, making his rounds, checking the livestock and the sick. He laughed and joked with the women as their meals were being prepared. He also went down to the river every so often during the week to check on some of the early rising children who went there to fish or swim without supervision. It was not a very large river but it did have its dangers at one time, the most notable being crocodiles. This was one of the main reasons for his frequent visits.
   When he first came to the village four years ago, the river was literally crawling with the huge reptiles. The village lived in concerned fear when they bathed and drew water, for a few would fall prey to those nasty rows of jagged teeth when one was off their guard. Though the hunters of the village would hunt and kill as many as they could, it seemed that the reptiles thrived on being hunted and persisted on staying within easy reach of so easy a prey.
   The change came about after Brother Ragal arrival. This was one of the first problems that he had to solve. And this he did with his 30-06 Winchester. For three weeks he shot crocodiles. Those that could be retrieved were taken and skinned for their hides and the tail meat for food. When it seemed that they were thinned out they seemed to re-appear again in goodly numbers. This caused some concern to the tribe who tried to convince the good Brother that nothing could get rid of the beasts. But Brother Ragal was not one to give up easily. So again he shot more crocodiles. Then something occurred to him. These reptiles were living in an area where few if any creatures would molest them. Particularly the young. Yes there were the occasional hawks, eagles, and large lizards that preyed upon the young crocodiles during the hatching season. Other than that, adult crocodiles had no natural enemies. Except man. So that the reptiles bred quite freely and even over-bred, which it seemed they were doing.
   So Brother Ragal got to thinking and sent for some material on the mating and nesting habits of crocodiles. After going through several books, he considered himself better equipped to handle the situation. One important thing he did learn was that they made their dens under the banks of the river with a little air hole to the surface. That explained why they appeared and disappeared, especially when the hunting pressure was on. It was based on this knowledge mostly that the plans were formulated to rid the bulk of the reptiles from this stretch of the river within a few miles either side of the village.
   Having dynamite sent in, he had the warriors search the banks on both sides for the air holes of the dens. Of those that could be located, a few were dug out just to make sure that they were on the right track. Then the charges were placed and the dens ripped from the earth. After several days of this, not a self-respecting crocodile within five miles in either direction dared show himself. Since then only a few had been sighted occasionally. Nor did this upset the people as long as there was no buildup of the horde that had once lived there.
   It was while coming from the river, after seeing that the few children there were alright, that Brother Ragal ran into Moganu searching for Natu. No, he had not seen him at the river with the other children. Maybe he was up the river at the spot he liked best. Moganu seemed to agree with this and went her way, mumbling how she would punish the boy for not returning for breakfast. Brother Ragal smiled and started for his house and his own breakfast.
   Moganu made her way up to the rock outcroppings that had been caused years ago by the dynamiting for crocodiles. She called out occasionally for Natu. Deep within her was a fear of this place. She had lost a child here to the jaws of one of the reptiles while he was bathing, right before her very eyes. Why the boy Natu, would pick this spot to fish was beyond her, for there were many other places along the village that yielded just as good a catch. But boys being complex in their very nature seem to delight in doing the easiest in the most difficult fashion.
   Reaching the rock outcroppings Moganu found no Natu. Calling aloud, her fears began to rise with each cry. And when she saw the water churn a few feet off the shore and what appeared to be the tail of a crocodile, the last nerve snapped. Screaming, she turned and flew towards the village, shouting at the top of her lungs. A vibrant, physical woman, little wings sprouted from her feet as she fairly flew over the ground the half-mile to the village. The people at the river behind the village were the first to notice her and they joined in with her as she made her way up the street towards her house and her husband.
   Gallo came forth at the familiar sound of his wife, spear in hand, his face tense. Moganu buried her face in his deep chest and sobbed loud and long. Finally Gallo succeeded in calming her sufficiently enough to find out what had excited her. Throngs of people were gathered waiting anxiously. Moganu told her story, finishing just as Brother Ragal approached. All eyes were immediately on him as Gallo briefly repeated what his wife had told him. Chief Bulan was away and some of the village business fell on the Brother. A worried sigh escaped the man's lips.
   "Hmm," he mused, addressing the woman. "Are you sure it was a crocodile, Moganu?"
   "Yes, yes, Brother! I saw its tail as he dragged down my Natu beneath the waters! Oh Brother! Am I not to have children? I am a good wife and I am a good mother. Why do these things happen to me?"
   "There, there, now," soothed the man, placing an arm around her shoulder. "Yes, you are a good wife. And you are a good mother. But you know that the Lord sometimes has a reason for the things he does though a lot of it I don't quite understand myself. Now, tell me what you saw after I left you this morning."
   "Go to the river!" someone shouted, "Kill the crocodiles!"
   "Kill the crocodiles! Kill the crocodiles!" others began chanting. Spear butts began pounding the ground and smacking stiff bull-hide shields in unison.
   "Hold on," shouted Ragal. "We're not sure yet! Maybe Natu did not go to the river. His fishing lines were not there! There was no bait!"
   "They were probably eaten!" shouted another. "Crocodiles eat anything!"
   Regal couldn't argue there, for like sharks, crocodiles were prone to eat just about anything that came in front of their jaws.
   "Has anybody seen Natu this morning?" shouted the Brother. "Has anybody seen..." and his repetition was interrupted by a voice shouting from the rear of the crowd.
   "Yo! Who calls Natu?"
   The crowd split into, jabbering excitedly, pointing and whispering at the small brown figure of Natu, as he strolled through them, a smile on his bright handsome face. In one hand he clutched the long, seven-foot spear of his Uncle Rama. Moganu, her eyes wide with disbelief, fell to her knees with outstretched arms. Big drops of tears rolled from her eyes as she took her child into her arms, squeezed him tightly and smothered him with kisses, his punishment forgotten.
   "Natu! Natu! Natu!" she sniffed. "Where have you been? I thought that the crocodiles in the river had taken you! You are alright?
   "Yes Moganu. I Natu, am fine. Why does everyone gather here? Is there a celebration?"
   "Yes, young man!" Brother Ragal sighed, "And you're it!"
   The boy returned a puzzled stare. About this time Rama approached, as did the rest of the curious. When his eyes fell upon his spear, they opened wide in amazement.
   "My spear! Where did you get it? It is the spear that I threw at the Kazar-Cowhini!" and he held it up for all to see.
   "Where?" he turned to the boy.
   "It was giv..." and he hesitated, glancing at the expectant people. He had heard of the Kazar-Cowhini yesterday and it was obvious that some were afraid of him. Should he tell them that he had seen him and that he played with him and the great panther that was with him? They would laugh at him and his Uncle might strike him, thinking that he sought to humiliate him. Ten year olds are imaginative it's true, but to what extent will they be taken seriously. Natu decided to keep the Kazar-Cowhini his secret. One day he would tell. But for now it was something that only he would know.
   "Natu?" Rama prodded. "The spear. Where did you find my spear?" Did you see the Kazar-Cowhini?"
   "No Uncle, I did not see the Kazar-Cowhini. I found the spear over in the jungle by the trail that leads to the valley. There were no leopards. I saw only deer and a python in a tree waiting for a monkey. There were lots of pretty flowers and bees, but no Cowhini or leopards Uncle. Why do you ask?"
   "Hmm," replied the man, thinking deeply. "It is not wise for one so young to go to the jungle by himself. I have seen the Kazar-Cowhini and lived. You, Natu, may not be so lucky," and he held out his hand for the spear. The boy turned it over to him, a curious smile on his face, which indeed puzzled the man, for he indeed noticed it.
   Turning to his mother, the boy rubbed his stomach. "I'm hungry," he said, and grabbing her by the arm, led her off towards their house. His mother only to anxious to feed him and deeply relieved that her little Natu was safe led him off without question.
   The gathering began to break up, leaving Brother Ragal and Rama together, the latter with a puzzled look on his face. Ragal noted and piped up, "Cheer up Rama, at least you didn't lose a good spear after all."
   "That is what puzzles me Brother. It was over in the valley, a day away that I cast this. And yet Natu says that he found it by the edge of the jungle. How is that so?"
   "I don't know, Rama. You were pretty ragged out. Maybe you didn't throw it there after all. The thing is, Natu is safe, and he found it. I don't think that he went clear to the valley myself."
   Rama nodded, mumbling something as the two men parted while before his own house little Natu squatted, with a bowl of stewed antelope, yams and baked corn cakes. All the while his mind vividly recounting his adventure with the black haired brown skinned boy wearing the silver locket, and the great panther who walked beside him. In that same instance, little Kevin Edwards trotted swiftly towards his den, his mind fixed on the smiling face of the little brown skinned native boy who gave him the shinny copper bracelet he now wore on his left wrist.

CHAPTER 5 * WHEN THE RHINO CHARGED
   As young Kevin neared the den he slowed his pace to that of a quick stalk. He was always prone to do such after long absences, for it seemed that his family never learned to cope with being surprised. Nor should they have to either, for were they not the most feared of all jungle creatures. Still Kevin delighted in his sneak attacks upon his mother and sisters.
   Silently, listening to every bird, every wisp of wind in the grasses, he crept along, Safeer right beside him. He paused. The den was just ahead. Ah! Now the real fun. He could barely make out the form of his great spotted mother lying in the grasses beyond the cave. On all fours he crouched and began his stalk. Was she sleeping or dozing?  Her long tail twitched occasionally. But then...? A few more feet and he would be within springing distance. Not a blade of grass rustled nor a twig snapped under the trained and skilled motions of the boy. His handsome face taunt with intent, his deep eyes locked upon his quarry. Now his lithe brown body settled down and he gathered his legs beneath him, their muscles tightening for the final spring. Safeer, quiet as ever, was right behind him. There was a crosswind so L'Naura could not get his scent. But neither could he get hers, nor any of the others at the den. This was just right!
   The spotted tail twitched again, a sign of contentment, and young Kevin the leopard sprang, a shrill snarl emitting from his throat. Of a sudden, the big cat was up on the defensive, and in that instance, the boy realized his mistake. The moment he touched the strange cat's body, he vaulted himself as quickly as he could, away from the strange animal, who was at the same time leaping to the attack. As quick as it all happened, quick was Safeer to come to the defense of his brother who was quickly scrambling for the nearest tree. Brave and valiant he was, but foolish no. Against a full-grown leopard he stood not a chance, and he knew it.
   Safeer bowled the big cat over, himself almost as big as the tom, who met this new challenge with tooth and claw. Then a flashing blur of orange and black appeared and joined in. It was L'Naura, attracted by the sounds of her offspring. Between Safeer and herself, the big tom was driven off, a somewhat puzzled look on his face. He settled down some fifty yards away and watched the two cats nudging each other. When the naked little man-thing dropped from the tree above them, he showed a renewed interest, which turned to puzzlement when the two cats did not turn upon him. Instead the same nudging was repeated between the three.
   The tom had arrived not long after the boy and Safeer had left to follow Rama. It was more than obvious that he had courting on his mind though L'Naura was not in a receptive mood. Still the big cat persisted, several times, only to be physically driven off by tooth and claw. Now with the advent of Safeer and the boy, as well as the presence of the other strange cub, the reason became quite clear. She still had young and therefore was not ready to take another mate. Maybe it would be better to search elsewhere after all.
   The big cat turned and disappeared into the jungle, leaving a puzzled Kevin scratching his head. He also decided that he would not pull any more surprises for a while.
   After a brief tussle with his sister, Kevin flopped down to nap. His mind was still reeling on the things he had seen. The boy who had given him the bracelet, the village, the cook fires, and all the other creatures that dwelled in the strange caves made of mud, stone, and straw. Yes, he would go back. He would see and learn as much as he could. He would find Natu, for in him, he was sure, would be the key to a lot of things that puzzled him.
   Later that evening a reed buck was brought down and the family feasted. Kevin played with his newly acquired possession, studying it intently. Then he remembered his silver locket. Yes, though he could not explain it, there was a connection in all of this. With his mind made up that he would return he went to the lagoon and splashed around in the water to rid himself of the blood and dirt on his body. That night he slept the whole night, dreaming far into the future about himself and the wondrous things he had seen.

   For two days now Natu watched the path from the jungle where the strange boy and the panther had gone. He was sure that it was only an ordinary boy. Well, not ordinary, for ordinary boys do not live with leopards. But he was sure that this boy was not a Kazar-Cowhini, but living flesh as was he. But where did he come from? How did he get here? He should like to find out. So with this thought in mind little Natu would check the trail everyday and hoped that the boy would come back. After two days and no one, Natu decided that maybe he should go and search for him. But what would he tell his parents. But would they have to know? No, not really. Yes, tomorrow he will go to the hills in search of this new friend. His mind made up, he went down the street to play with some of his village friends.

   A slight fever had caught the boy Kevin and he lay in the den for two days hardly eating or drinking. Being a strong lad it passed as quickly as it had grabbed him and once more he was on his feet and ready to go. Now, it was for meat, and he set out on the trail of game, trotting purposely in the direction of the village.
   While the two cubs were hunting Natu was trying to decide how to go about his adventure. Sitting on the edge of the back fence of the cattle kraal, he kept formulating plans in his head, only to dismiss them in search of a better one. Some of his friends tried to engage him in a game, but he merely waved them on with "next time." Soon he fell asleep, having thought himself into exhaustion.

   Kevin looked down upon the village with the same wonderment that he had first looked upon it. His lithe, brown body tingled with excitement as he started for the edge of the jungle. The biggest tree he could find provided a nice view where he could be close by but unobserved. Vainly he searched the masses looking for the face of Rama, and especially for Natu. He fingered the bracelet, turning it round and round his wrist.
   For a couple of hours he sat watching the activities of the villagers, but still no sign of Natu. Well, maybe he might get a glimpse of him from another position. He dropped lightly to the ground and started across the sparsely tree-dotted plains. The grasses were taller than the boy to a good degree. He had missed the worn game trail, one of the many which went from the village to the jungle, the river, and elsewhere. But it did not matter for he had his nose and ears to guide him and warn him of any impeding danger. Or so he thought, when all of a sudden a loud "whoosh!" broke over his head. Instinctively he froze. Then he saw the author, a huge bull elephant. How in the world did he miss something that big? The fact was that he did and it could have been fatal. Silently, he and Safeer flattened themselves against the ground while the giant bull swayed to and fro, his trunk testing the air before him and to the side of him.
   Kevin waited patiently. He knew that the wind was in his favor and that the elephant had poor eyesight. He also knew that this giant was also a timid creature, sometimes taking flight at the slightest odd thing, and a other times he could be a raging demon of destruction, destroying everything in his path. Presently the bull shook his head defiantly, his big ears flapping, and wheeling about, trotted from view. Kevin continued on, looking over to Safeer some ten yards behind.
   Another five minutes put them near the rear of the village. Silently and cautiously they worked their way to the cattle kraal. A big smile lit the boy's face as he saw the figure of Natu propped against the inner fence, sleeping. Wanting to communicate, but knowing that he couldn't the boy sat and watched trying to find a way to get Natu's attention, while Safeer greedily eyed the cattle.
   To enter the hole in the fence was a thought, but the beastly instincts within the boy warned him not to. So he sat and waited and watched.
   Two youths about Natu's age came up and woke him talking excitedly. Natu rubbed his eyes and followed after them at a trot. Kevin was all smiles, but at the same time disheartened. He watched as the boy sped out of sight, and sat on his haunches frowning. Finally, he started back across the plains towards the jungle. Later he would try again.
   As he departed, the sounds of shouting and chanting and beating drums from the village attracted his attention. Presently he could sense several bodies moving through the tall grasses in his direction. He listened intently to make sure. Yes, they were coming in his direction. Was he discovered? No, that could not be! There was no air of hostility that he could detect, either from the approaching bodies or the villagers' shouts. Silently the boy and panther faded into the grasses so as to avoid yet keep contact with the approaching men. Soon they passed him. The sounds of the people in the village told him that no one else was coming. He had no idea that what he heard was just a send off for a hunting party. A common ritual with the villagers. But he was sure that he'd like to see what they were up too. So with renewed interest in these fascinating creatures, he took up the spoor. Safeer trotted at his side.
   Presently, he came to the path upon which the men were traveling. This made the going easier, for now the boy could see better what was ahead. Slowly, but not wanting to get too close, he followed the three singing, laughing men who trotted towards the jungle's edge. The trail led along the edge of the jungle and they followed, their slick ebony skins glistening in the sun. Each carried a long spear in his hand. Across their backs hung a quiver of arrows and a bow, while in a sheath on their hips suspended a long knife. They wore copper bracelets similar to the one given to Kevin by Natu, along with necklaces made of many little colored beads. Over their heads, towered large plums from some unfortunate ostrich, held in place by a broad, leather headband. Them too adorned with multi-colored beadwork and etchings.
   The wind whistled lightly as numerous monkeys scampered and scolded from the safety of their lofty perches. Brightly colored birds fluttered from tree to tree screeching and preening their feathers, adding their brilliant colors to the vibrantly stunning foliage surrounding them.
   Gradually the mood of the men changed from jovial to a serious look of intent. The glare of the hunter, the killer, the provider. At one point they huddled in a semi-circle, gesturing at the ground and then into the distance, nodding in agreement with each other. They would follow these tracks, for they were very fresh. Each grabbed his bow from his quiver and placed an arrow across it as they went. Single file they went, stopping occasionally to study the tracks of their quarry and make sure that they did not surprise it prematurely.
   Kevin instinctively knew that they were hunting. It was no real mental feat to realize that. He was however more concerned with the role that the strange sticks they carried held in their hunting. He followed ever so cautiously, careful not to get too close lest he be discovered. The men were so involved that the chances of that were slim.
   The men halted, laid their spears aside, and fanned out in a semi-circle and move towards the tall grasses. Yes, they were hunting. He recognized well the co-operative tactics the men were employing, as they crept forward, softly, purposely, the muscles in their legs rippling with grace at their finely controlled movements. The brush before them rustled and they froze, each regarding the other's position, and at the same time seeking to pinpoint the quarry ahead. Again the brush rustled, then ceased.
   A dark form began to thin out the thickness of the grasses. A long horned head poked into view, a dark stripe running down from the eye to the chin. Soon the whole body of the eland came into view. Slowly but ever so gracefully, the three men drew their bows to full length as the bull snorted to a halt. Simultaneously they released, and three arrows sped with the quickness of thought and buried themselves into the chest and lungs of the big bull.
   Kevin was stunned beyond belief as he watched the big creature lurch forward upon its face and fall dead after the three little sticks struck it. Now this was something! They didn't even have to touch the animal to kill it, as he would have had to. He watched intently as the men approached the bull, their bows drawn. Nodding to each other the men retrieved their arrows and dragged the animal off a ways. They then took up the trail again. Kazar and Safeer went to investigate the eland. Yes, there was no doubt that it was dead. Three little holes and it was dead! His excitement keyed, he started out after them again to witness another exhibition of the strange little sticks.
   A little farther on a water buck was shot and the men gutted it, scattered the entrails then dragged it back to the site of their first kill. Placing their weapons aside they set about the task of dressing both animals and hanging them to bleed and cool. While two worked on the eland, the third man started building a fire. From the pouch he had been carrying, a small water gord was produced and passed around, man each taking long sips. The eland was skinned and the meat cut into pieces. The hide would be used to carry the choice cuts of meat. The water buck would be left intact and lashed to a pole, for it was a smaller animal. A portion of the eland's hind quarter was sliced off and placed over the fire, while from an over hanging branch not more than thirty yards away, a silent but interested figure watched.
   The men talked and joked with each other, recounting the stalk and the kill while the rump cooked. Every now and then one of them would turn it over. The other meat was near finished drying, and one of the men sprinkled sand on it to keep it from blistering and spoiling in the hot sun. When the quarter was ready, the three cut off healthy portions and ate well. The gord was passed again and the men settled down to nap and gather strength for the trip back to the village.

   A silent brown figure swung into the tree over the three sleeping men. Working his way down to the lower branches he paused to survey the scene. The scent of the fresh killed bucks drifted to his delicate nostrils, as well as the scent of the cooked meat, which caused his spine to tingle. He had never tasted cooked food before and the aroma had a very definite and tempting pull.
   The three men were snoring heavily. They had eaten well. About them lay their spears and their bows and arrows, the latter of which had caused the boy so much wonderment. These "little sticks" that killed at a distance held his awe, and concern also, for he was not sure that they would not fly at him also.
   Stretching out on the limb, he scrutinized the sleeping figures and the ornaments and clothing that adorned their bodies. The many strands of beads about their necks, the anklets, the bracelets, and the beautiful loincloths, two of them made from the hide of a zebra and the other from the hide of a leopard. But always his attention went back to the fascinating "little sticks" that flew.
   Slowly the fires of desire began to kindle within his little breast. The desire to possess. But would the sticks fly at him? Hmm. He did remember seeing how they were used. The crooked one with the vine was bent and then the long slender one was placed on or across the crooked one and pulled back to the men's mouth. Undoubtedly they were telling the sticks where to go before letting them fly. Yes, he was safe, for the crooked feathered sticks were not bent by the vines. So with this in mind and somewhat satisfied, he dropped lightly to the ground.
   Searching about for Safeer, he finally saw the great cat still sitting in the other tree about thirty yards away, obviously uninterested. The boy turned his attention to the figures before him. One of the men turning in his sleep caused the boy to stop short, tense for fight or flight. As rigid as a statue, his deep brown eyes narrow slits, as he watched the man toss listlessly for a few seconds then settle back into his rhythmic snoring.
   Kevin then started towards the hanging water buck, widely skirting round the crackling fire, which he held in as much and even more respect then he did the "little sticks", for fire he always knew, brought pain and death. That these creatures like himself, for he was now sure that there was a relation, even though they were darker and larger than he, could sleep in such close proximity to so sure a danger, amazed him to the fullest.
   Again he inspected the water buck for the holes that the arrows made. A little gleam twinkled in his eyes and he started back towards the men, his attention fixed on one of the bow's and a quiver of arrows. As silent as he would have stalked his prey, he stole between the sleeping men and very deftly lifted a quiver and a bow. A few feet away he inspected his prize, gingerly fingering it with the perpetual curiosity of youth. A low whine of satisfaction escaped his lips. Of a sudden he turned and faced the fire. Beside it, hanging from a stick was some of the cooked meat, its scent having drifted to his nostrils the delicate flavor of the sweet meat. Laying down the bow and quiver he went to the meat, his eyes locked on the fire. Within three feet of it he paused, eyeing the meat and the fire. Then he looked to the sleeping figures.
   Kevin was cautious but not dumb. Somehow he reasoned that if they could sleep with utter indifference to this thing that it would not hurt him to take some of the meat next to it. And did he not see them produce it anyway? Closing the gap, his strong brown hands closed around the warm cooked meat. After a second of sniffing and visual inspection, he tore off a large chunk with his strong white teeth. Ah, it was good! Hot raw flesh he craved, but there was definitely something appealing to it after being burnt in the fire.
   Several more mouthfuls he took and was almost so involved in feasting himself when a shinny object on the ground at his feet caught his attention. Dropping the meat, he stooped to pick up the knife that of one of the men had used to cut the meat. He had watched them use this thing so he was aware of one of the methods of its use. Picking up the meat he imitated what he had seen done earlier and neatly cut off a slice of meat, miraculously missing his thumb in the process. Again he cut another slice, this time nicking the back of his left thumb. In that instance he learned that his hand was in the way and that the sharp blade held no discrimination as to what it cut.
   As he was about to cut another piece, a snarl from Safeer caused him to freeze. He dropped the meat, froze, and glared intently about. The big cat was standing on the tree limb, his tail lashing back and forth excitedly, his fangs bared. Kevin shot a quick glance at the men. They were still asleep. His ears strained and his nose strained to pick up the cause of his brother's annoyance. Presently, very faintly, his ears picked up the sound of a body moving along the jungle's edge. What it was he could not tell, for the wind was not in his favor. But he reasoned that Safeer would not be alarmed if it were only an antelope, zebra, or other harmless creature.
   Safeer dropped to the ground and entered another tree closer to the boy, again showing the same anxiety. This was enough for the boy, who, not bothering to look back started for the tree in which the black cat stood. But not before grabbing up the quiver and shoving the knife and bow into it, and slinging it across his shoulders in the manner he had seen. Like a shadow he disappeared into the green foliage above.
   Squatting beside the cat the boy stroked the great head and peered long and inquisitively in the direction he had heard the noise. Over the noise of the dying fire and the other creatures he could hear the movement of some great body coming towards the sleeping men. The wind was still not in his favor so a scent could not be gained, though now, like Safeer, the boy could sense that the creature was one to be reckoned with.
   Presently his patience was rewarded with a broad gray back and shoulders, topping the shrubs and tall grasses. Soon the full body of the armored car of the plains and forests, the rhino, came into view. Yes, Safeer had been right again, for this cranky, irritable, unpredictable beast was nothing to play around with.
   The beast trotted directly towards the fire and the sleeping men. Kevin watched with interest. Would the beast charge among them? Would the men hear it in time? There seemed to be a struggle within the boy's head, but no solution. For whatever reason one of the men stirred, and half sitting up, he saw the large form of the square-lip rhino approaching him. His hand instinctively reached back for his bow and quiver, which was not there. Looking swiftly around he noted that it was so. Only his spear was there. His two companions were still asleep and their weapons were out of his reach.
   Slowly, he lowered himself as though sleeping, his eyes locked on the approaching beast, his hand firmly grasped around his spear. Maybe the fire would cause it to pass by. And if no one moved, there might not be a provocation. But the rhino's path did not change and Shombie feinted sleep, his squinted gaze locked on the beast, hoping and praying that the big animal would pass by.
   And that's exactly what the animal did not do. Straight up to the fire he trotted, his big head weaving, his nostrils gathering a nose full of smoke, causing him to back off a few paces. Not being a meat-eater, the smell of the eland and waterbuck did not concern him. But the man-scent which hung there was a source of irritation, causing his little ears to twitch almost as fast as his tail. Shaking his head violently, he snorted and pawed the ground. Shombie tensed, his grip almost breaking the spear, while above and beyond, a silent, interested figure watched intently.
   A hundred thoughts raced through the man's head. Should he wake his companions? Should he attempt to chase the brute off by a sudden surprise attack? Or should he wait it out and see how far the situation would continue? As though to make up his mind for him, the rhino turned and trotted off, shaking his head from side to side. Shombie breathed a deep sigh and slumped down and simultaneously the rhino turned about and charged.
   Kevin was tingling with excitement as he watched the man jump up shouting, and sprint off at a dead run from his companions. The rhino, now having a target, pursued the man at a gallop. About this time the other two awoke and immediately took in all that was transpiring. Shouting encouragement to the fleeing Shombie, the men tried to direct the rhino's attention to them. The beast slowed his pace at the new sounds. Shombie shot a glance over his shoulder to the voice of his companions and in that instance, tripped over a hidden creeper. Instantly he was on his feet. But the rhino however, had returned his attention to him and bore down upon him. He rapidly closed the gap on the slightly limping man who could hear the shouts of his pursuing companions trying to turn the great beast, but still staying within reach of a climbable tree.
   Poor Shombie, only twenty yards to safety and the rhino was rapidly eating up the distance. All was lost now. Turning about, the man faced the brute with spear in hand. His muscled brown arm flung back and tensed, the blade of the spear shined in the sun. He shouted a loud defiant shout as the beast closed in. This was his only chance and he knew that he must take it or be trampled and gored trying to run away. He was a Wazi Warrior and if it were his time, he would die like a Warrior. Fighting!
   The rhino came lumbering on, growing larger in the man's eyes with each stride. Suddenly the scream of a leopard pierced the air and caused the beast to break his stride. Simultaneously, as though from nowhere, the naked, brown body of a black haired boy, a silver locket around his neck and copper bracelet around his wrist, dropped full in the path of the charging beast. At his side was a huge black, panther. The rhino skidded to an abrupt halt, shook his head violently, then charged the two newcomers.
   Shombie made it into the safety of the tree. His two companions were standing in the background watching in wide-eyed wonder at the strange apparition. The rhino's charge was no match for the swiftness of the lad who was just short of a gazelle in swiftness. Nimbly he dodged to one side as the big brute rushed past where he had been. The rhino turned to charge again and laughing youth, again leaped nimbly aside and darted for the protecting foliage of the trees. Safeer followed only after swatting the big brute on the nose as the animal stood in utter bewilderment and confusion.
   Having reached the tree in which the bow was stashed, Kevin slung it across his shoulder and without a backward glance, swung into the higher branches and off into the jungle. Calling to Safeer who followed on the ground at a run, they left behind three frightened, shocked, and confused Warriors scratching their heads. The rhino trotted in short circles for a minute, shaking his head vigorously and snorting loudly. Presently he turned away and trotted off onto the plains.
   When the animal disappeared the three men gathered at their camp. Shombie was shocked but grateful to the "spirit" that had delivered him in his hour of need. Death was certain but then fate dropped its wild card. All were in definite agreement that they had just witnessed the Kazari-Cowhini, the Leopard god that Rama had seen by the Blue Lagoon.
   Then began the search for Shombie's bow and arrows, and Barcuna's knife. A study around the fire where the meat was lying unfolded to the story. There were footprints about the size of... a boy! The Leopard god? He had eaten the meat and taken the knife and the bow? Maybe, they surmised, that this strange creature was no god at all. God's do not leave footprints they reasoned. Puzzled but relieved, they packed up their belongings and prepared to start their journey home, while off in a forest giant, the little nut-brown boy inspected his new possessions.

CHAPTER 6 * KAZAR
   For weeks the story of the rhino encounter was the big item in the village. In each telling it grew more and more exciting. The villagers, in spite of the pleadings of Brother Ragal, thought that they were on the verge of something special. Some great disaster or a great benefit. Of which it was, they were not certain. But they were sure something was in the making.
   Most that is. One of the doubters of course was Natu. He could not help but chuckle to himself when he heard Shombie, Barcuna, D'Argo, and his Uncle Rama describe the fierce Leopard god. Ten feet tall! Long yellow fangs! About the only thing he noted that they came close to in truth was, the huge panther, for huge he was, a deep satin black, with blazing yellow orbs.
   But Natu knew better of the rest of the tales. For he had seen the Kazar-Cowhini and laughed with him. He surely seemed like a boy to him. He was! And Natu should know! As he counted the cattle again for the sixth time he wondered if he'd ever again see the boy who walked with the great panther.

   During the week following the rhino encounter Kevin spent around his den trying to master his new possessions, the bow and the little sticks that flew. It only took him a day to figure out that he did not have to "talk" to the arrows to make them go. The rest of the week was spent in learning how to make the arrows go where he wanted them. He spent hours with his deadly toy, stopping only to sleep, eat, or swim.
   The second week showed marked improvement. He was hitting more of the targets he had selected and had learned the bow's limitations. He learned that the arrows were quite effective in getting to the target at some distances over others. And that a twig, a branch, or even a stiff breeze was enough to deflect the little sticks from their target. Also that they would not stick into everything. There was still much to learn, for he had not shot an animal or anything moving as yet. Kazar did not kill for pleasure, only to satisfy his hunger, or to defend himself, as did the other jungle creatures.
   The idea was there though, for he had seen the method in which the men he had it from, used it. And though he had intended on using it the next time he was hungry, he would forget and hunt as he usually did. By his own prowess.
   One day while target practicing by the Blue Lagoon, something happened to solve a problem that had occasionally bothered him for some time. While drawing a shaft to its full length, the bowstring anchored under his ear. The wind suddenly picked up as he released, and locks of his long black hair became tangled in the bowstring, causing the arrow to go haywire, and stinging burn on his ear. He snarled in disgust and grappled with the thing in an effort to free himself.
   Kevin's dark hair fell across his shoulders in the front and below his shoulder blades in the rear. It would have been longer, but years of living and traveling through the dense, tangled underbrush had taken care of that, trimming it sparingly. But the real problem was that it got in the way of his vision. More than once in the past it happened at critical moments. Once, while chasing a small piglet, he almost ran into a lying python. Another time, while traversing the tree ways, he misjudged his distance and fell twenty feet. He was bruised and humiliated, but not seriously hurt. At least no bones broken.
   Kevin continued to untangle his hair, scowling and snarling all the while. Dropping his bow, he grabbed a strand in each hand and twisted them behind his head as he had done hundreds of times before. Then he took off the quiver and jumped into the Lagoon. Water had always solved it for him before. Temporarily that is, making it slick behind his head and out of his eyes.
   Sitting on the bank, he brushed his long shock of hair behind him while admiring his reflection in the water. A snapping twig behind him caused him to turn suddenly, crouching. He relaxed, smiling, as the fawn tiptoed past him. In his turning he had kicked the quiver and knocked out some of the arrows and the knife he had placed there.
   The boy's eyes lit up as he seized the shinning blade. His mind went back to another day. Ah! Using the mirror reflection of the water he grabbed a handful of hair and began to hack it away. The strands parted easily at the touch of the keen blade. Within a few minutes he'd given himself a satisfactory if not crude haircut. The hair that normally fell in his face was cut to a shaggy set of bangs, while much of the rear was cut to shoulder-length. Grinning with satisfaction, the boy shook his head and himself to rid the stray hairs. Still itching, he jumped into the water again and splashed about, yelling and laughing.

   Brother Ragal was sitting at his desk going through some papers in a folder. A thin wisp of smoke spiraled upward from his pipe sitting on the ashtray next to his right hand. His right thumb was thumping the desk repeatedly.
"Darn it," he sighed, shifting the papers. "I know it's here somewhere."
   Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his forehead briefly and yawned. Gathering up the papers he stacked them neatly and replaced them in the folder, patting it as he rose from his chair and went to the door.
   "I'll look some more tomorrow," he thought as he leaned on the porch rail and gazed out into the calm jungle night. The village was quiet except for the occasional bark of a dog and bawl of a calf. In the distance, an elephant trumpeted and a hyena laughed. The moon was full, dominating a cloudless sky. Brother Ragal took a deep breath of the crisp air and turned towards the door. "Leopard god," he chuckled.

   It happened about a month after the rhino incident. Kevin had just passed his tenth year, though he was unaware of it. He did know in a way that he was growing, for the cubs were leaving the den for longer periods. Rena had not returned after three weeks absence. He doubted that she would. Salira and Voota were extending their absences also, though they returned periodically. But they seldom shared the den with him and his mother. Even Safeer, the boy's constant companion, left for long periods on his own.
   The leaving of the others did not bother the boy much, for he had seen this before with previous litters. It was their time. It also made him wonder when he would go, for he knew that surely he must, as the rest had before him. He knew that Safeer would go for good one day, though he wished it would not happen, for they were truly close. At least the boy was truly close to Safeer.
   Little boy's feelings mend well and he adjusted and made due on his own. When Safeer was there, the two would romp and hunt as they had always done. When he wasn't, he would still carry on by himself, inventing things to do. But he also noticed that the big cat haunted the area near the den. So they were pretty much together as of old, except when Safeer got into his brooding moods and was intolerable.

   One bright morning found the two together, the boy with his bow in hand and a arrow notched, prowling the riverbank about a mile from Natu's Village. Along the way they spooked flocks of feeding cranes and storks. Two crocodiles were sent sliding into the water by a few well-aimed rocks from the dark-haired boy's hand.
   Along the way Kevin was shooting and retrieving his arrows also. There was hardly a target he didn't hit. His marksmanship had greatly improved.
   Safeer grumbled and halted. The youth stopped, sniffing the air. Crouching, he stalked forward, moving into the protective covering of the jungle foliage, followed by the great panther. Ahead was an outcropping of rocks that jutted into the river. Partly hidden was a figure throwing something onto the water. Kevin crept closer, peering around a tree, the only cover between him and the rocks. His eyes opened wide with delight as he leaped from behind the tree with a big smile on his handsome brown face.
   "Jam-bo!" he shouted. "Jam-bo. Jambo," he repeated, standing in front of the tree.
   The figure in the rocks stood up to see. It was Natu!
   "Jambo!" he shouted, raising his right hand and waving. "Jambo," and he scampered over the rocks towards the smiling dark-haired boy.
   Kevin was all smiles as he watched the boy skip nimbly over the rocks and land lightly on the bank. He advanced to meet him. The two boys stood facing each other, smiling brightly between "jambo's" while patting each other familiarly on the shoulder.  Safeer yawned and flopped down behind them. Natu, seeing the cat, eyed him, then Kevin, who immediately interpreted his expression. Kneeling beside the cat he motioned Natu over. The boy's eyes sparkled as he approached the cat who was gazing at him indifferently. He sat down beside the two and stroked the big head, softly repeating "Jambo."
   For a few minutes the three sat in silence. They watched the water, the birds, the monkeys, and regarded each other. Natu recognized Shombie's bow and arrows and pointed to them. Kevin handed the bow to him with a snarl, then a smile, and struck his chest with a fist.
   "K... K... Kev..." he stuttered trying hard to surface his elusive past.
   Natu laughed.
   "They are afraid of you in the village," he said.
   Kevin wrinkled his brow, puzzled.
   "Oh," frowned Natu, "I forgot. You cannot speak our language."
   Kevin cocked his head, his brow still wrinkled. Handing the bow back, Natu jumped to his feet and struck his chest. He smiled broadly and extended his hand to his friend as an idea came to him. Kevin took the pro-offered hand and stood facing the boy, and returning the smile.
   "I, Natu, will teach you to speak," boasted the younger boy. He pointed to the bow and said, "Bow."
Kevin looked at the bow, and Natu repeated it again. "Bow."
   "Bo-ow," repeated Kevin.
   "Good!" exclaimed the younger boy.
   He took his finger and placed it on his chest. "Natu," and he repeated it twice. Kevin smiled and pointed to his own chest, "Na-tu."
   "No, no, no," Natu laughed and took Kevin's hand and placed it to his chest.
   "Natu," he repeated and tapped his chest three times.
   "Na-tu," Kevin repeated, this time pointing to Natu's chest. Natu swelled with pride smiling, making the boy repeat it several times.
   Then he pointed to Kevin's chest, but stopped puzzled. He looked into the boy's eager eyes regarding him. Natu frowned.
   "Hmm. I do not know your name. They call you the Kazar-Cowhini in the village. But I am sure that you are no Cowhini. Ah!" a smile came to him. "Kazar, for you are a leopard's cub! Kazar!" he beamed.
   "Kazar," he tapped Kevin's chest. "Kazar."
   "K... K... ...Ka-zar," Kevin repeated slowly. Natu took the boy's hand and placed his finger on his chest. "Kazar," he pressed it.
   Soon the youth was poking himself and repeating, "Ka-zar, Kazar, Kazar!" Then he poked Natu, "Natu, Natu, Natu!"
   Presently the two were poking each other and repeating their names, laughing all the while.
   "Come," said Natu, and he started towards the jungle. He pointed to various things and named them until his pupil repeated them. It was thus that young Kevin Michael Edwards came by his new name, Kazar. It was also the beginning of his re-education in the language and ways of man.

   For the next year and a half Kazar absorbed all that he could from his youthful teacher. He made frequent trips to the outskirts of the Wazi village, meeting Natu by the river at the rock outcropping, or near the hole in the stockade fence. They would spend hours in the jungle, Natu teaching, Kazar learning. Other times the lessons were combined with the fishing trips that Kazar had come to enjoy. When they were not walking or stalking something, they sat under or in some great tree while Natu taught the eager pupil the language of his tribe and the English that he was being taught in the village school.
   Kazar was a willing and progressive pupil, hardly forgetting a thing said as he mastered the Wazi dialect. Natu was as amazed as Kazar at how quickly his English was progressing. Both were equally puzzled by the sudden outbursts of the strange melodic words. Kazar's Latino heritage was subtly reaching out to him. He would often amuse Natu with the vaguely familiar words to break the monotony then get back to the business at hand. Kazar was determined to learn all he could so that he could eventually discover the secret of the strange words.
   Natu was an eager and enthusiastic teacher. His eagerness sparked a sudden new level in the village school that made him thirst for more knowledge so that he could show Kazar. His teachers and parents alike were amazed at his sudden exuberance. That he was very bright was well known, though they knew that he could do a lot better than he had been of late. But bright students will sometimes lag or complete a task just to be done when lessons do not keep their active minds occupied. Now there was a marked difference and it pleased everyone. His longer absences along the river and into the near-by jungle raised a few eyebrows, though not enough to stir up any real suspicions.
   Little Natu glowed within at the thought of his great secret. He was the friend of the Kazar-Cowhini, the Leopard god, the fearsome jungle creature whom a number of the villagers feared or doubted the existence of. He laughed at the thought. He longed for the day when he could make this known. But now was not the time.
   During that year Kazar had been seen occasionally, but never in the company of Natu. They always met in some secluded spot, not likely to be visited by any of the tribe. Kazar would take Natu hunting with him. Sometimes Safeer would accompany them. Natu marveled at the prowess and reckless savagery of the boy when it came to the hunt. The boy sounded, killed, and ate as a leopard would, then afterwards, he was a boy again.
   Kazar also taught Natu what he knew of the jungle. Of the secrets, beauties, and dangers, that he knew while Natu continued to teach him his customs, language, and folklore.
   It was also during this time of teaching that Natu presented Kazar with a beautiful leopard skin loincloth and a sheath for his knife. Natu himself now wore a soft zebra-skin loincloth, telling his friend that he was no longer a child.
   "Warriors," he explained, "do not run naked as children do!"
   Kazar accepted the gifts with great pride, pledging an undying loyalty to his friend. A mutual agreement to say the least.
   The boys hunted and fished, wrestled and talked, and sometimes napped under some great tree for long hours when they were together. The evenings were sad though, for it meant parting. Natu to his house in the village, and Kazar to his den, though sometimes he would curl up in a tree near the village instead of making the long journey back to his den, for it was a day's travel.
   But when he did go, it made him that much more eager to return. He would spend a couple of days with L'Naura and hunt with her, bringing down game for her with his bow. But that urge would tug at him and he'd start back to the village. Sometimes Safeer was with him and sometimes not. Occasionally he'd meet with him on the way and if the great cat followed, fine. If not, it was okay until the next time.
   But either way, the boy Kazar was pleased. He felt different. Something was swelling inside of him that he could not explain. But he did not worry, for it felt good.

CHAPTER 7 * NATU'S SECRET
   The hot tropical sun beat heavily down upon the dense jungle and the open plains. Great herds of zebra, gnu, gazelle, elephants and other veldt dwellers moved restlessly about, their tails twitching, steadily swatting the ever-present hordes of flies and other annoying insects. The water buffalo and the warthogs wallowed in the murky shallows and the mud while the elephants stripped trees and threw dust upon their backs to rid themselves of flying insects. A pride of lions lay at the jungle's edge, panting, ears twitching, and tongues handing. A cheetah paced back and forth eyeing the skittish herd of reed bucks beyond and kept a watchful eye on the lions.
   High in a large tree, not far from Natu's village, a small hut built upon a rough-hewn platform, swayed slightly in the gentle breeze that moved through the tops of the jungle giants. It had been built by Kazar to protect him from the elements on the nights that he did not return to his den. It also provided a hide-a-way where he and Natu could be assured of not being discovered by anyone from the village, as well as a refuge from the stifling jungle heat below.
   Today found the two stretched out on their bellies in the entrance of the hut, propped up on their elbows, their heads in their hands.
   "Hot!" sighed Natu.
   "Not for long. Look." Kazar nodded towards the distant mountains. Natu saw the dark mass forming, but the overhead sun did not convince him of his friend's convictions.
   "You think that it will rain Kazar?"
   "Am I ever wrong?" the boy smiled.
   Natu hunched his shoulders and poked his friend.
   "I do not know how you do it. But I hope that you are right. They have been complaining in the village for two weeks now. If it does not rain soon, that will be too bad for the crops. Even Brother Ragal says so."
   "It will rain. A day, maybe two," he concluded. Then, "Natu? I should like to meet this Brother Ragal. He sounds... Sounds..." he hesitated. "Good! Yes, good!"
  "Ah yes, friend. He is good. He is a very wise man. I guess it would be good for you to meet him. You would like him."
   Kazar sat up, stretching his arms and shaking his head. He brushed his hair back and yawned.
   "Natu," he smacked his friend lightly on the calf. "Why is it that you do not wish me to go to your village? We have been friends for a time now, and each time I bring up the matter, you change the subject."
   Natu rolled over and sat up. He took a deep breath, then sighed heavily.
   "Yes, I know," he bowed his head. Then peering out from under his brows. "I guess it was fear," he started. "And selfishness mostly."
   Kazar's brow wrinkled in puzzlement. Natu held a hand up for silence, seeing that the boy was about to speak.
   "Yes, fear. I was afraid for you at first. When I first met you, you were the feared Kazar-Cowhini with a giant panther for a companion. Most of the people in the village were either afraid or suspicious of you. Some even thought of hunting you down."
   Kazar laughed.
   "But," Natu continued. "Either their own fears or Chief Bulan or Brother Ragal managed to talk them out of it. They said that you had not harmed anyone or attempted too, so why bother you. If you did indeed exist.
   "But mostly it was selfishness. When we became friends, I had something in all the jungle that no one else had! A legend for a friend. It made me feel more powerful than Chief Bulan, for I have the Kazar-Cowhini for a friend.
   "I did want you to come to the village so that all could see you and know that you meant no harm. And to show them how brave I was. But since you were not familiar with our language, I did not think it was time then."
   Natu placed a hand upon Kazar's shoulder. "I feared losing a friend such as I have never had. This is why I have kept you from the village. But now, there is no longer a reason."
   Kazar looked long and searchingly into his friend's moist eyes. A slight suggestion of moisture began to build up in his own. For awhile the two sat silently reflecting, their heads slightly bowed. Presently Kazar reached out and placed a hand upon Natu's shoulder. He squeezed it a little until the boy looked up at him.
   "I am glad Natu. For you have taught me much. Though I have often wondered, I knew that had good reason. Only L'Naura, my mother, and Safeer, my brother, are closer to me.
   "Jambo," after a slight pause. "Jambo, my brother Natu."
   "Jambo," Natu beamed. "Jambo, my brother, Kazar."

   A tall bearded man closed the door of the Flight Office behind him and strolled over to the waiting blue CJ-5 Jeep. The engine was running. Another man was tying a strap over the tarp-covered gear that was stacked in the rear.
   "Everything ready Joshua?" the bearded man grinned.
   "Ready Bwana," he hopped into the passenger seat. The Bwana slid behind the wheel, jammed the shifter into low gear and pulled off.
   "Damn hot huh," he jabbed Joshua with an elbow and wiped the sweat from his brow. The jeep sped towards the gates of the small airport and zipped down the two-lane road towards the mountains in the far horizon.
   Kazar was crouched in the grasses by the waterhole. He had been sitting there for sometime, an arrow notched on his bow. The wind had begun to pick up considerably, whistling through the branches overhead. So much so that he did not hear the light steps of the doe as she neared his concealment. Then suddenly she halted, wheeled about and bolted into the jungle beyond. Kazar grit his teeth and stood up. He surveyed his surroundings and the sky above. Placing the arrow and bow back into his quiver, he leaped to a low hanging branch and disappeared into the foliage above.

   "Here is the letter I think you were waiting for Brother," Rama handed the envelope to him.
   "Wait," called the man. "I think this may interest you also."
   "Oh?"
   "Yes. The Leopard Boy. I've got a hunch about his identity and this letter may help," he said, while pulling out the contents.
   Rama watched with interest as the man read the letter, his eyebrows raising occasionally. Sitting on the porch steps, the man smacked the papers with the back of one hand, then handed them to Rama. The man read with careful deliberation.
   "I tell you Rama, this could be it!"
   "I do not understand fully Brother. It tells of a plane crash some ten years ago. Not even the plane wreckage was found, much less survivors."
   "True Rama, true. But see here. There was a three-year old boy in the plane also."
   "And you think that the boy is the Leopard Boy? True, that happened about ten years ago, but they are not sure where the plane went down exactly."
   "Yes," interrupted the other. "But according to the flight reports, they had to cross the Owatta River, almost a hundred miles from here. And the last transmission from the pilot puts them in that vicinity.
   "Now you saw him with a panther? So have others. Not to mention the family of leopards that you saw him with. And I've heard similar stories from M'Otobe's village."
   "But a hundred miles, Brother!"
   "Just suppose now. Say the boy somehow survived the crash. It's quite possible that a nursing female leopard took the child in. And just suppose that the boy did survive his early years with the leopards. It wouldn't be the first time a child is raised in the wilds by an animal. Now lets say, that just maybe the plane didn't crash near the Owatta River, but near here. Pilot error. Say over near the Blue Lagoon where you first saw the boy. Maybe the wreckage is sunk in the water. But on the other hand, if it did go down near the Owatta River where most people think, it would not be unusual for the cats to have traveled that far to somewhere near here. Leopards are prone to changing their hunting grounds depending on the availability of game. Or because of something like that storm a few years back. It damaged a lot of territory and could have forced them to move out. And the boy would have been old enough to trek such a distance."
   "Yes," Rama hesitated. "But that's really a... how do you say? Long shot. It seems possible, but?"
   "I can understand how you feel Rama, but I have one piece of evidence that I recall that gives me pretty strong feelings about this in particular," he baited.
   "That being?"
   "Before I came here Rama, I was in Cape Town. I met the Edwards, mentioned in this letter. It was in a Gift Shop where I was looking for a present for my sister in Baltimore. Well, them being from the States and myself also, we got into quite a conversation about home."
   "But what makes you think this is the same child? He was only a baby then?"
   "True. He was about three years old I recall. While we were talking, they were having a silver locket engraved for the boy, Kevin. That stands out in my mind vividly, for the boy's father wasn't too enthused about his son wearing a locket and I got dragged into the matter also," he laughed. "Oh wow! The boy is Mexican!" he snapped his fingers.
   "What?" Rama was startled.
   "You mentioned his long black hair! The boy's parents were having a debate over this outrageously ornamented religious medallion she insisted would protect the boy from harm.
   "What did you suggest?" Rama cocked an eye at him.
   "Well," he drawled. "I didn't want them fighting or on my back so I went into one of my evasive short sermons and suggested the silver one."
   "And?"
   "Patricia is a Mexican American, and necklaces and medallions, are as popular with them as they are with Italians. Generally there's a religious motif on them. So I knew where she was coming from. I sort of reminded Gordon of such, and ended up by telling them that with today's fashions, I thought it would be ok till the boy was old enough to decide for himself if he wanted to keep wearing it. So they agreed.
   "But as I was about to say, the silver locket. It was also one of the things that you mentioned about the boy. As have most of the other people who have seen him. They all remembered the locket!"
   "But it could also be someone else Brother. A different locket, or one found on the body of a dead child." Rama concluded.
   Brother Ragal gazed up into the sky and pointed to the gathering clouds and stated, "We'll need that." He then turned to Rama. "They were a nice couple Rama. They really were. Now I've got to find out. I've really got to know who this kid is."

   As the first drops of rain fell Kazar had just landed on the platform of his hut. Entering, he removed his quiver and bow and hung them on the wall. From the pouch he had been carrying, he removed a piece of fresh red meat, still hot and dripping. Cupping his hands, so as not to spill too much blood on the skins that covered his floor, he went and sat in the entrance of his hut. As the rain splattered lightly upon his legs and chest he tore off pieces of the flesh with his strong white teeth, chewing once or twice, then swallowing the chunks down. Though he had learned to cook his food, Kazar still relished the hot, raw flesh of a fresh kill.
  
   Natu was staring out of the front window of his house while Moganu, his mother was busy preparing the meal. She was here and there, almost two places at once, not missing a thing. Including her handsome growing son. Her bosom swelled with pride as she crossed the space to stand behind the boy, her hands on his shoulders.
   "Dreaming?" she asked. "Little boys are full of dreams."
   Natu sighed knowingly. "He was right," he muttered.
   "Who was right?"
   "Oh! Ah! A friend." The startled boy returned quickly. "He told me that it would rain today is all."
   "Hmm," the woman patted his head. "Little boys. Well, the meal will be done soon, do not leave," she said turning back to her chores.
   Natu nodded. He was watching the tree tops swaying in the wind, trying vainly to see one tree top in particular through the big heavy drops of falling rain.

   Far away, two men sat before a crackling blaze. It was not raining. Each sipped from a cup of steaming coffee and gazed longingly into the fire. The flickering yellow flames threw their shadows about the dark recesses of the jungle and reflected off the chrome and glass of the jeep. The darker man spoke.
   "Bwana. You think hard?"
   The bearded man turned to him, grasping his cup in both hands, and bowing his head.
   "Just weighing the odds Josh. Just weighing the odds." His companion picked up another log and threw it onto the fire, causing numerous cinders to leap skyward into the darkness.

   For several days the rain fell, and the grateful earth soaked up the cooling, penetrating waters. Rivers, lakes, and streams rose and flooded the low-lying areas and ran rapidly towards some unknown destiny. Creatures that could not find shelter stood placidly waiting for the drenching to quit. Monkeys huddled close together under the thickest canopies they could find or desperately grasped each other and strategically perched beneath large broad branches. Others not so fortunate howled their protests to the heavens, while young Kazar slept very soundly.
   Life in the village went on in spite of the rain. The small discomfort it caused was overlooked for the greater relief that it brought. Namely the saving of the crops, and a much welcomed relief from the stifling heat.
   Brother Ragal had been spending his time going over the numerous papers he had gathered about the Edwards plane crash. After a determined effort he finally unearthed the newspaper clippings on the incident that he had stashed away so long ago. These he shared with Rama, and Gallo, Natu's father, who had suddenly picked up an interest in the story. They discussed many possibilities and had suggested a search party to find the boy or more evidence, whichever they could. Chief Bulan remained because he had other pressing priorities.
   Natu had heard such conversations before, but never had anyone shown as much an interest as they were now displaying. Especially the seriousness of the search party. But on this day however, he sat listening very intently, and at one point chuckled half aloud to himself. Nor did it go unnoticed by Brother Ragal.
   "Natu," he addressed the youth.
   Natu swallowed hard at the mention of his, name, for he thought that he had not been heard.
   "Perhaps you know something of importance?"
   "Youth!" scoffed Rama. "No respect!"
   "I, ah, caught something in my throat, Brother. Excuse me please."
   "Hmm," the Brother scratched his chin. "You spend a lot of time along the river and in the nearby jungle. Have you ever seen this leopard boy we are talking about?"
   Natu hesitated. He searched the faces of the men watching him, his final gaze resting on Gallo, his father.
   "Well," demanded the man.
   Natu rose from his seat at the table. Never had he been asked about the leopard boy nor had he brought him up in conversations, except fleetingly once or twice. Now he thought he was on the spot. What should he do? What should he say? He knew that he should not lie, unless... But then, would they believe him if he told the truth? And then again he reasoned, he didn't have to tell everything. But he also reasoned that they would want to know when, where, and why. And why he had never mentioned this to anyone before.
   "Well," he finally decided, "It is about time anyway. The secret would not last forever."
   "Natu!" a voice brought him back to wakefulness.
   "Yes!" he responded as an elder entered the room.
   "Have you seen this leopard boy before?"
   "Yes," he started, watching intently, "I have seen Kazar before. I mean the leopard boy."
   Eyebrows picked up and the men looked at each other astonished. Then all eyes locked upon the boy. Gallo winked at the other men then addressed the boy.
   "Kazar?" he asked. "You speak as though you know this boy? Tell me, do you know something that we do not? You call him Kazar. Like a name?"
   Natu sucked in a deep breath, watching his watchers, and began.
   "Yes father, I know him. He is my friend. Kazar is the name that I gave him for he did not have one. Or at least he did not know his real one."
   The mouths of the men dropped. Rama stood up and slammed the table with a fist. Others who had entered whispered excitedly among themselves.
   "Enough of this nonsense!" growled Rama. "Must we sit here and be toyed with by a boy!"
   Rama," interjected the Brother. "I'd kinda like to hear this. We may just have something. I don't know what, but do you think a boy could make up something of this nature without a little truth mixed in? I'd like to hear him out," and he turned to Gallo and some of the others who were standing there. They agreed, and Rama seated himself, a little disgruntled indeed.
   "Natu?" the Brother asked the boy. "You do know what a lie is don't you?"
   "Yes. But I do not lie, Brother Ragal."
   "But you have never mentioned seeing this boy before?"
   "That is true.  No one has asked me before. Besides, it was a secret," he smiled. "Until I taught him the language of our people and the English that I learn in school, it was to be kept a secret."
   "Secret huh. How many times have you see him? How long have you known him?"
   "Many times Brother. Many times! For almost two years! We were even together a few days ago, before it rained. He, Kazar, told me that it would rain. We were..." he hesitated.
   "Were what?" Gallo asked.
   "Sitting," he crossed his fingers behind his back. "Sitting near the river," he smiled. 'Whew!' he thought at his clever answer. He hadn't lied, for the tree house was by the river. At least some of their secrets he could still keep to himself.
   "Describe him Natu. What does he look like? Where does he come from? What does he talk of? You said he speaks?"
   "Oh yes," he smiled proudly, swelling his chest. "He speaks well. I taught him!"
   "Yes, you did mention that," the Brother commented.
   "Yes," continued the boy. "He speaks both of our languages well. And sometimes he spoke another strange tongue. But we do not know this one."
   This raised the brother's eyes with interest and he urged the boy on.
   "He is a little taller than I. His hair is very black and his eyes very dark brown. He smells animals and plants before we are even near them. And he can hear the slightest sounds better than our village dogs, and walks with the silence of the great panther that is sometimes with him. When he kills his food," the boy grimly lowered his voice, hesitating for a second, "he leaps upon its back with a snarl and tears out its flesh at the throat! Then he twists its neck and breaks it. Then he eats his bloody meat, raw!"
   "You've seen all of this? The boy and the panther together? Eating raw meat?"
   "Sure," he bragged, puffing out his tight chest. "I have even patted the great cat and wrestled with the two of them!" he paused to note the expressions on the faces of his growing audience.
   "He has wanted to come here many times but I would not let him."
   For the first time, a trace of doubt came from the eyes of his listeners. But Natu was quick, and continued before anyone could voice an opinion. He told them that he feared for the boy's safety because of the general attitude of the villagers and neighboring tribes, when the boy's existence became evident.
   "Brother. How much of this can we believe?" Rama almost pleaded. He turned to the others in the room attempting to elicit their support.
   "I know," said the Brother. "It's quite a story. But somehow I think there's something to this."
   "You do not believe me?" inquired the boy. "I do not lie!"
   "Not that we do not believe you Natu. It's just that..." Ragal paused. "That... Well... Considering that no one else has talked to this boy. Or even been as close to him as you claim. Much less seen him for long..."
   "I will bring him here! When the rains stop!" the boy almost snapped. "He will be wearing the loincloth and the copper bracelet that I gave him. And the sun will shine off the silver locket on his chest, as bright as the brightest star in the night sky!"
   Brother Ragal snapped his fingers as though remembering something.
   "Natu," he called. "Wait!"
   The boy halted, turning, facing the crowd.
   "The necklace! The silver locket!"
   "Yes, it was silver."
   "Was there anything special or unusual about the locket? I mean, was it... Did... Describe it!"
   "It was round and shinny. He let me hold and touch it and look at it, while it was on his neck. But he never took it off. He said it was with him as long as he could remember. He treasured it, but," he hesitated. "It also puzzled him too."
   "How do you mean?"
   "The writings on it had bothered him for a long time. He thought that it had something to do with him and where he came from. When he could finally understand me he asked me what it said, for he had not learned to read yet. One side said 'Love always. Mom and Dad', the other side had the initials K.E. with the date 1 March 1962 underneath. There was something else he had been trying to remember he kept saying, but it always slipped away before he recognized it."
   Brother Ragal smiled at Rama. The man nodded approvingly.
   "No one else here knows of the engravings on the locket except you. Is it so Brother?"
   "It also opened," interrupted the boy quickly. "There were two pictures within! A man... and a woman. We figured they must be his parents. But there were no names."
   Brother Ragal shook his head in disbelief, but with obvious elation. He grabbed the startled boy and hugged him and patted him on the back.
   "It is so Rama! I have seen the locket myself, and there are two photos inside! The boy is obviously telling the truth. This is something he could not have possibly known otherwise.
   "Natu," he addressed the boy. "Do you recall any of the strange words your friend said?"
   "Hmm. Usually when he was in a troubled sleep, he would say something like 'Mamita.' Or 'Poppi.' Most of it I couldn't understand and it seemed to puzzle and confuse him."
   Brother Ragal beamed with satisfaction. Then to Natu, "Would you mind telling your story from the beginning. When you first met your friend Kazar?"
   He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and handed it to the boy. Natu grinned from ear to ear. Right now he was truly the most important person in the village. Even Chief Bulan was present, now keenly interested in the story that was about to unfold.
   Natu began his strange, interesting tale to a multitude of eager ears, starting from the very beginning when he literally bumped into the leopard boy in the fields by the stockade. As he recounted the event, certain things began to make sense. Natu's frequent fishing trips, and hikes and overnighters into the nearby jungle by himself! The way he sometimes skipped his chores, or was late in doing them. His increased interest in school. And that on nearly every occasion it was recalled that Natu had a book and or writing papers with him!
   When the boy finished his astonishing tale, the crowd gazed upon him a long moment in silent awe, then began whispering to each other in hushed tones. Brother Ragal was shaking his head and tapping the table with his fingers. Natu slipped to the front and door peered out into the rain, wishing that it would stop so that he could see his friend Kazar.

CHAPTER 8 * DISTRACTED
     Kazar was up with the sun, eager and hungry. As he went to the entrance he paused at the bow and arrows hanging on the wall. He fingered them, then left, leaving them. Standing on the edge of the platform, hands on his hips, he took in deep breaths of the crisp morning air. The jungle was warm and bright, as though it had never rained. Gaily colored birds fluttered through the middle terraces, screeching loudly. The roar of the rushing waters of the swollen river echoed through the air. Spirals of smoke rose from the rooftops of the huts in the Wazi village. Occasionally Kazar would see a woman rush from their house and then back again, carrying large metal vessels. This reminded him that he was hungry.
   Entering the hut, he went to a box in the corner, opened it, and removed a paper tablet and a pencil. Tearing off a sheet, he used the box top as a table and wrote on the paper. When he finished, he placed the tablet and the pencil back inside the box and held up the paper, admiring it. He went to the entrance and drew his knife and hacked off a splinter of wood. This he used to tack the paper to the doorway.
   "There," he said proudly, and turning, he leaped from the platform to a nearby branch and swung off through the trees. The boy traveled leisurely, stopping occasionally to scold or tease with some monkeys along the way. One branch he landed upon contained a python about twenty feet in length, crawling into position to wait for an unsuspecting monkey.
   Kazar could not resist. Grabbing the reptile's tail he shook it back and forth like a cowboy snakes a rope. The snake turned to face him, his head raised in the familiar striking position. Kazar shook him again, vigorously, and the snake lashed out, quick as the eye. But the boy was quicker and leaped nimbly away.
   "You are slow today!" he laughed and swung off.
   Presently the boy descended towards the ground. Pausing momentarily on a limb about ten feet off the ground he sniffed the air and listened. Satisfied, he dropped lightly to the ground. He walked boldly towards the fruit trees where a family of baboons was feeding. The sentinel, upon spying him, barked a warning. Others in the family ceased their feeding to watch the dark haired boy approach. Some bared their fangs, snapping their jaws savagely.
   Kazar halted about seven yards away and extended his hand, palm forward.
   "It is I friend. Remember me? I am Kazar."
   At the sound of his voice, a large male strutted up to the boy, bristling, growling, and standing on his toes. Kazar did not move as the animal stalked about him sniffing and inspecting to reassure him that his ears and eyes were not deceiving him. Kazar continued to speak in soft tones.
   "It is I, Bedar. Kazar. Your friend. I bring you nuts and fruits."
   The old male paused and sniffed intently at the boy's legs. He sneezed and then barked, then sat back upon his haunches. Presently he reached up and took the boy's hand. Kazar smiled and knelt to his level. He stroked and briefly groomed the animal's head as the other did like-wise to him.
   "Yes. It is I old friend. You remember," he said. The other members of the troop resumed their feeding, all but ignoring the boy. Presently the male went back to his feeding, and the boy sat in among them eating the ripe fruit.
   One of the younger baboons engaged the boy in a game of tag which lasted a few minutes until the boy realized that what he wanted was meat. Bidding his friends farewell he trotted off to the river where he found a calm place to drink and soak himself away from the swift current.
   An elephant trumpeted in the distance, followed by the roar of a lion. When the elephant trumpeted again, Kazar emerged from the water, a brow wrinkled, listening. Again the elephant trumpeted, followed by the roar of a lion again. This time it was a different lion!
   The boy trotted off in the direction of the sounds, a very curious look upon his face. The vegetation was lush and the ground soft and spongy, still full of water from the recent rains. Soon the growth began to thin as the ground turned into a swampy bog. He carefully picked his way along, following the sounds of the lions and the elephant. As the ground hardened again, the forest gave way to a sizable clearing half covered with water. At one end, a young bull elephant stood knee-deep in the mucky bog, while just out of reach on firm ground, paced two lionesses.
   The boy studied the situation before moving. His ears were alert to every sound, while his eyes and nose tried to pick up what his ears did not. After a minute or two he stalked closer, then leaped into a tree and swung to within thirty yards of the incident. The two cats could not get to the elephant for fear of getting stuck in the mud, or coming too close to the formidable trunk of the huge beast.
   Kazar stretched out prone upon the limb, his keen brown eyes watching. A movement beneath him caught his attention. A small antelope. As quick and as silent as a shadow, the boy dropped to the animal's back, grabbed its head and twisted it in his strong, brown hands. There was a bleat, a sharp snap, and the animal relaxed and fell limp. Kazar seized it by the neck with his teeth and shook the carcass vigorously. Then he gutted it with his knife and then took it into the tree to a crouch above the limb on which he'd been sitting.
   The two cats stopped to watch the momentary distraction then returned their attention to the elephant. Kazar cut off a hindquarter and jammed the rest of the carcass in the crouch of the tree. Then he dropped to the branch he'd been previously sitting and resumed his seat, and watched the lioness and the elephant, while he tore off and swallowed chunks of the juicy raw flesh.
   The blue jeep was grinding its way up the hill in second gear. Occasionally it would lose traction, causing the wheels to spin. The bearded man would let the vehicle roll backwards a few feet, then start forward again, gaining more yardage. It was a steep grade and the man eventually succeeded in reaching the top. Once on level ground, the man stopped the vehicle and hopped out. He went to the edge of the grade, looking down it first, then out over the vast land before him. The greens, oranges, purples, and yellows of the jungle foliage stood out strikingly against the dull browns, yellows, and blues of the plains and mountains beyond.
   Joshua was standing beside the bearded man who said nothing. Turning in the other direction the man pointed. The scene was similar as the other though the mountains were closer, with just a glimpse of a river visible. Reaching into the rear of the jeep he pulled out a pair of field glasses and scanned the area before him.
   "There," he pointed, handing the glasses to Joshua, who took them, looking in the same direction.
   "Let's go," the bearded man jumped into the jeep. "We should be able to take a couple of grouse or some hens for dinner, huh?"
   "Yes Bwana,"
   The jeep roared off over the rough terrain, bouncing and kicking up a cloud of dust behind it. At the other end of the plateau, the vehicle halted. The men got out and went to the edge and scanned the terrain.
   "I think its best we leave the jeep here," the bearded man was saying. "I think we were really lucky to be able to drive this far in. Not bad."
   "Too good I think sometimes, Bwana," Joshua returned.
   "I think we can hack it. We'll camp here for a day or two. That'll give us time to get some meat, sort out the gear we'll need, and plot our course. We can leave the jeep under that tree. I don't think it'll go anywhere. From here on, its Shank's Mare. Think you're up to it?" he slapped the man on the back.
   "Of course not," Joshua laughed. "But I want to see if you are!"
   "Ha! If I could..." he cut himself short. "Come on Joshua, I'll help you get some firewood. Afterwards, we hunt!"
  
   Natu, usually an early riser, slept late into the morning. When he did awake the first thing he realized was that the rain had ceased. He rushed to a window for confirmation. Turning, he started for the door, only to be stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.
   "I do think it would be nice that you eat first," his mother said. "You cannot stay healthy on an empty stomach."
   "But I..." the boy protested.
   "But nothing! First you eat. When you are finished, Brother Ragal wishes to speak with you."
   The boy went and sat down. When he was served, he bolted the food down like a lobo wolf then rushed to the door, shouting, "I am finished!" 
   His mother shook her head smiling as Natu sped down the street to Brother Ragal's house.
  
   "The boy said that he could bring him here," Ragal was saying to Gallo and Rama. "Let's let him do it his way first."
   "But what if he does not? What if he does not really know this boy?" Gallo spoke.
   "I thought we agreed that he did. He must," Ragal was casual. "After the description of the locket, I'm convinced that he at least knows someone out there. Ah!" he gestured, pointing to the running figure of Natu approaching.
   The boy almost stumbled trying to halt at the bottom of the stairs. He stood before the appraising men, panting heavily and regaining his composure before speaking.
   "You wish to speak with me Brother Ragal?"
   "Yes Natu. It's about Kazar. Do you believe you can get him to come to the village?"
   "Yes Brother! He has wished it for so long! That is...." he paused. The men eyed him evenly.
   "That is, if he comes today. He may be at the cave of his mother. That is a day's journey away, next to the Blue Lagoon. Though sometimes he stays in the jungle nearby."
   "So you are not sure?"
   "Only because we have not seen each other for a couple of days. After the rain, I know he is hungry and will go to hunt, wherever he is. But if he is nearby, I will see him," he smiled.
   "Okay. But be careful. Should someone go with you? I mean...."
   "I will be fine. Besides, you could not go some of the places we do," he laughed and spun about and sped off towards the river.

   As Natu dashed through the village gates he did not notice the two boys hiding behind the wall of a nearby hut. When he disappeared around the bend the two figures, poking each other with subdued giggles, followed him.
   Natu trotted along at a leisurely pace, a bright smile on his face. No one could deny that he was not happy. No one! As he neared the banks of the river, the boy slowed to a walk. A slight noise to his rear came to his attention. He kept walking, listening intently. Presently, his eyebrows arched and a mischievous smile flashed across his face. He was being followed! He concentrated on the subtle sounds and they grew more distinct. Two people! Small people! Must be boys from the village. Natu beamed. The lessons he had learned from Kazar were paying off. He had learned well.
   "I will show them. Think they could fool me and find our secret place." Turning, he stood in the middle of the trail, his hands upon his hips. Presently the two boys came into view, halting, startled to find Natu standing there.
   "Natu!" the taller boy greeted. "We were..."
   "Spying," Natu interrupted. "You hoped to see where I meet with my friend, the Kazar-Cowhini!" he tried to impress them.
   "Not Cowhini!" the boy snapped. "Just a boy! Ganda and I do not believe you know him." Ganda looked to the taller boy, nodding.
   "You will see him when he comes to the village, not before, or he may eat you raw! Go back to the village!"
   "No!" insisted L'Kevo. "We will follow you. You cannot stop us!"
   Natu thought quickly. One eye was on the two boys grinning at him, the other was on his surroundings. A smile flickered on his lips.
   "No, I cannot stop you. But it would be foolish for you to try and follow me further, for you would not be able to keep up," a definite challenge in his voice.
   The two boys laughed loudly then started towards Natu. Just as suddenly, they froze in their tracks with astonished expressions upon their startled faces, as Natu turned and leaped to a low hanging branch, and swung up into the concealing foliage.
   "Bye," he flung as he disappeared from view. Ganda and L'Kevo stared blankly at the empty space, then themselves, and then turned and raced towards the village with all haste.

CHAPTER 9 * HELPING THE ELEPHANT
   Kazar had napped, for the encounter between the lions and the elephant had begun to bore him. He had been thinking of leaving but the idea of missing something wonderful bid him to stay. The elephant had begun its struggling anew, trumpeting and swaying in a desperate effort to free itself. The two cats roared their defiance, pacing back and forth.
   It was this noise that had awaken the boy. He yawned and stretched, and crawled out from the crouch where he had nestled himself. Surprisingly, the bone from the hindquarter of the buck was still clutched in his hand. He took a mouthful of the meat on it as he moved out to where the branch began to sway. From his lips came the piercing scream of a leopard and his brown arm shot forward, releasing the bone and it slammed full into the upturned face of one of the cats who had looked up to find the author of the scream.
   "Go away Simba! Go away! You cannot reach Tembo! If you do, he would crush you with his trunk!" And he screamed forth the challenge of the leopard again.
   The two cats seemed puzzled. Clearly was the voice of a leopard coming from the branches above, but all they could see was a little brown-skinned boy. This was definitely strange. One of the lions went beneath the limb on which the boy stood and sat on her haunches and stared up at him. Kazar growled deeply and snapped off a piece of a nearby branch. Taking careful aim he threw it at the unsuspecting beast. She roared her disapproval and leaped to the boy. But the distance was too great. After two more attempts, she rejoined her companion, ignoring the taunts and jeers of the strange snarling leopard. Kazar continued to throw whatever was available at them, while the elephant rocked and trumpeted, making little headway in the sticky muck.
   After a few minutes the boy sat down, a frown on his face. Then turning, he ascended to the carcass and cut off a slice with his knife. He wiped the blade on the blistering animal, which was beginning to draw flies in the African heat.
   "Natu!" he suddenly remembered, and dropped from branch to branch to the ground. With a final look at the elephant he departed in the direction of the village. Once out of the marsh and into the dense forest the boy took to the trees. This would make it faster he thought, for he had not seen Natu in a few days. There would be much to talk about. Kazar was swelling with anxiety as he swung along through the middle terraces. As he progressed the sounds of the elephant and the cats began to fade. Suddenly he stopped, hanging from a swaying branch, listening, his dark brows wrinkled as he looked first in the direction Natu's village then over his shoulder to the elephant. An idea seemed to be forming in his young mind.
   Swinging back and forth several times to gain momentum, he did a reverse flip and started off in the direction of the elephant at a fairly rapid pace. His movements were as quick and as graceful as any of the monkeys or apes of the jungle. His pace was so fast that he covered the distance in half the time it took him when he left.
   Reaching the edge of the jungle he dropped lightly to the ground and made his way through the sparse tree-dotted marsh. When he reached the tree in which he had cached the buck he began gathering up any lying wood that was available. After several minutes he had quite a sizable pile at his feet.
   "I hope this works," he sighed. Kneeling, the boy began to sort the wood into different piles. Then he placed some small twigs in a teepee fashion over a mound of dried reeds and grasses. To this he added some slightly larger pieces. Grabbing a long stick about an inch in diameter he cut it to a length of about a foot and a half. Taking his knife he rounded one end and tapered the other to almost a point. Another stick, about two feet long, he took and fastened to each end a loose strip of hide that he had taken from the buck. Two more pieces of wood he broke and planed off as flat as possible on one side, drilling a shallow hole in each with the tip of his knife.
   Sitting back and resting a minute, he admired his handiwork proudly. It was a fire-making bow that Natu had taught him to make and use. He almost wished that he had his bow and arrows with him, for there was flint and steel in the quiver. But young Kazar did not complain, for he knew that he could make due without. After a few minutes of concentrated effort the boy produced a hot ash in his tinder. Blowing very gently a small yellow flame appeared and engulfed the tinder. Carefully but quickly he placed this to his layout and soon had a blazing little fire.
   The lionesses had been intently watching him but made no effort to approach the boy, who kept a wary eye on the pair during his labors. Kazar gathered more wood, adding some to the fire until the flames fairly leaped above his chest.
   "Tembo! Do not fear! They will not get you! I, Kazar will help you! I will drive Simba away! I will not let you starve either, for I will bring you food, and help you free yourself."
   After throwing more wood on the flames, Kazar went to gather the tender shoots, twigs, and grasses that elephants like. For two hours he labored. This was almost as much work as when he built his tree house. But it was worth it he reasoned.

   Natu was very thrilled and excited as he swung away from his followers. He could not help but laugh at the startled faces he knew he had left behind. But he was very proud for he was doing something he had in the past thought almost impossible. But Kazar was a patient teacher so Natu learned slowly but surely. He was no match yet for Kazar in the trees, this he knew. But no one else in his village or the jungle could match him either. This he knew too.
   Natu traveled a straight line away from the river and tree-hut. After a time he paused and listened, peering down to the jungle floor below. Satisfied that he was not followed he swung off deliberately to the hut. As he neared the river he went higher into the giant trees, slowing his pace. Ahead and slightly above him he could see the hut. His heart began to beat faster as he made his way up the precarious height. He would see his friend. He would sneak up on him and surprise him, as Kazar was prone to do to him.
   Very lightly the boy Natu landed on the platform. Crouching he stalked towards the entrance only to be halted by a piece of paper tacked to the outside of the doorframe. Straightening up he read the note.
   "Natu, I am hungry and have gone to hunt. I will return soon. P.S. Did I write this right?"
   Natu smiled.
   "Yes," he folded the note and tucked it inside the waistband of his loincloth. "I will wait for you," and he entered the hut and sat in the corner upon the soft skins, gazing around and smiling contently. A book sitting by the box caught his attention. He picked it up. It was one that he had given Kazar to practice reading with. Natu thumbed through several pages then set it aside and went out and sat on the platform in the bright evening sun. He was the happiest youngster in the world.

   At about the same time Natu arrived at the hut Kazar was putting his bold plan into action. He had located the trees he had been looking for that held the sticky sap the natives used to make torches with. Using some large leaves he fashioned a rude bowl to carry the substance in. Once back at his fire he took the half dozen stakes that he had made and wrapped each end with the dried vegetation he had gathered and then smeared them heavily with the stick sap.
   The two cats were now interested spectators. Them seemed to have forgotten the elephant who had also ceased his struggling to watch the busy youth.
   "Now Simba. We will see who is boss!" Picking up a bare stick he lit it and tossed it at the cats. They split up, allowing the burning spear to fall harmlessly between them. The boy tossed another and another burning spear in rapid secession, hitting his targets. The two cats paced back and forth nervously, roaring their defiance, not sure what to do. Kazar, on the other hand, did not venture too far from the security of the tree or the fire. He knew that the big cats were very unpredictable, subject to many mood swings within minutes. At one time they might run away, another time, charge. Still at another time they might just plop down indifferently. So he kept his guard up. He was no match physically for a half-grown leopard, let alone a full-grown lioness. But he would use his head and try to bend the will of the cats with his superior intellect and their natural fear. Taking a shorter stick he covered the end with the sticky substance and placed it in the fire, bringing out a blazing little torch.
   "Well," he swallowed, "here goes," and he lit another torch and began advancing towards the cats who were now regarding him with a concerned interest. At about half the distance the boy halted and poked the blazing torches at the cats. The burning stench of the sap drifted to their nostrils and they shied away. Kazar pressed the issue.
   "Go! Go!" he shouted. "Simba! Go! Go on! Get out of here!" The cats held their ground, deep rumbles came from their throats.
   "I warn you!" and the boy flung the torch in his right hand, and it landed full into the face of the lioness in the rear. This caused the advancing cat to stop and she turned to see her companion yowling and rolling her face in the ground. Just as quickly, Kazar threw the remaining torch at the other cat, striking her in the shoulder. The big cat hopped about, rolling and rubbing its shoulder on the ground.
   Kazar backed away smiling. His plan might work. Some of the burning sap was sticking to the feline's coats and singeing them. If he could burn them enough maybe they would leave. Gathering two more torches he advanced again, pelting the beasts. After a third time and one of the cats started off across the clearing.
   "Stubborn huh?" the boy snarled as he started for the remaining cat with another torch. He had just stepped around the fire when the cat charged. A thunderous roar shook the earl as she bounded towards him. Kazar did not panic nor did he turn and run. He stood his ground, torch in an outstretched hand behind his head. A little under ten yards from the boy, the cat leaped, flying towards him with outstretched claws and gapping jaws. A charging lion is swift, but swift too was Kazar, who had waited until the cat was in midair before he let fly his fiery missile before leaping to the overhead branch and safety. And not a second too soon. He could feel the hairs of the great tawny body brush the bottoms of his feet.
   The hot torch hit the leaping cat squarely in the face. But its pain and frustrations were compounded as she landed in the middle of the blazing fire in front of which the boy had been standing when she leaped. Leaping, yowling, and roaring, she ran off after her companion, sometimes rolling or dragging her burnt rear end across the ground as she went.
   An elated Kazar jumped up and down upon his swaying perch and he shouted a long drawn out Texas rebel yell that he had once heard Natu do when he was describing a motion picture that he had seen in the village. Dropping to the ground and still laughing, he gathered up some shoots and twigs and carried them over to the trapped elephant.
   "Here," he tossed them to the beast. The grateful animal trumpeted loudly.
   "Do not be afraid. I will not harm you. Eat. I will return," and he went to save what was left of his fire. Then he took two of the long torches he'd made and lit them. Taking them over to the edge of the bank by the elephant, he stuck them into the ground about five feet apart. He continued to do this until he had a semi-circle of torches around the elephant on the solid bank. Next he prepared a fire within the ring and lit it from one of the torches.
   Kazar labored, transferring the wood to his new fire, gathering more wood until he had a pile nearly as tall as he. He gathered more shoots and twigs and threw them to the great beast, who accepted them with a low rumble. Then he went and gathered more sap and also fashioned another bowl. When he finished he had two bowls of the sticky substance and four extra torch poles. Hands folded across his chest he looked around to see if he had forgotten anything.
   "Well," he addressed the elephant. "Simba is gone and you are fed. I will stay with you until I can free you. I could go to the village of Natu and have him help me. But the torches may die. And if they do, Simba might return."
   The elephant eyed the black-haired youth standing there almost within reach of his trunk, speaking in soft tones. The boy eyed him just as intently. What was going on in its brain the boy could not venture to guess but he knew that he dare not come in contact with the outstretched trunk. Yet.
   "I shall eat now Tembo. Then I shall return and stay the night." Turning, the boy went to the tree where the antelope was stashed and ate.

   As the hours went by Natu began to worry. Kazar should have returned long since. He had never hunted this long or stayed so long after leaving a note! Maybe he went to his cave at the Blue Lagoon. To spend a couple of days in the rain away from home would surely make him want to go home too. Or maybe he was at one of their other meeting places looking for him.
   With that thought in mind Natu stood and stretched. He would check the other places also and return later. His stomach rumbled. Looking inside the hut he found no fruit, so he leaped to a nearby branch and descended to the jungle floor. Listening and looking, he made his way to their favorite fishing spot where he would quench his thirst before continuing on.

   Ganda and L'Kevo trotted down the jungle trail at a steady pace. Behind them were several warriors from the village including Gallo, Rama, and Brother Ragal. All were armed, silent and determined. Presently they halted in the middle of the trail. The youths pointed to the ground, then the trees beyond.
   "This is where he disappeared," they said in unison.
   "He was standing right here when something snatched him from the ground, right into the trees!" L'Kevo continued.
   The men grouped around the spot studying it keenly. They eyed the boys, then examined the ground again.
   "Are you sure that something snatched Natu?" a dubious Gallo asked.
   "Yes, yes," offered Ganda. "He was standing right there! And then he was gone! Up there!" he pointed.
   All eyes peered up into the tree.
   "Up there?" repeated Brother Ragal.
   "Yes, Brother Ragal. I think the Leopard boy snatched him!"
   "Oh no, not again!" scowled Rama. "Did you see him?"
   "Well... Ah... We..."
   "Hmm," mused Gallo. "Natu's tracks do end here. There are no more down the trail for at least fifty yards. Either he was carried away or jumped up there himself. But that seems just a little high for him to reach. Brother?"
   "Well maybe he jumped on the trunk Gallo, then climbed up. But that's a good thought Gallo. Let's continue on and see what we coming up with."
   The party started off and had scarcely covered a hundred yards when they were halted by a cheerful, "Hey!" from above.
   Looking up into the foliage they saw the smiling face of Natu peering at them. He descended through the tangled maze and landed lightly upon the trail in front of their astonished faces.
   "Where are you going?" he asked, a slight smirk in the corner of his mouth.

CHAPTER 10 * WHEN THE SNAKE STRUCK
   The two men, drenched in their own sweat, hacked their way through the dense undergrowth. Full knapsacks hung on their backs and a heavy caliber rifle was slung from their shoulders. A holstered .44 revolver hung from their belts along with a small first aid kit, a machete, and a leather pouch of spare ammunition. A large Bowie knife was strapped each man's boot. They seemed prepared for everything. Except the resistance of the thick growth.
   "Damn!" the bearded man swore. "Rain sure makes this stuff grow back quick! We could sure use a chain saw in this soup!"
   "But who should carry it, Bwana?" Joshua returned.
   "Yeah," breathed the man. "We should be hitting one of those trails soon, Joshua. If not, our map's off or our compass bearing is screwed. But I think we're close."
   The two continued, wiping the sweat from their brows and eyes, gritting their teeth and relentlessly hacking away at the tangled vegetation. Strong healthy men sometimes don't know their limitations when faced with an overwhelming task. They were tired to the point of exhaustion and too stubborn to quit, sensing that they were so close to their objective. They paused a brief minute for a breath of humid air and mutual encouragement.
   "Just a little more, Joshua. I know it!"
   "Well, don't stand here, man. Let's do it!"
   Five minutes seemed like an hour but finally the two fell through the tangle unto the trail their map had indicated. They slipped out of their packs and dropped them against a Boab tree. Weak knees collapsed and they flopped down and propped themselves against the packs. They gulped air deeply as though it would be their last. After a spell Joshua removed his canteen, unscrewed it and sipped the precious liquid. He then extended it to his companion who did likewise.
   "I think we deserve a long rest," he gasped, his chest rising and falling heavily.
   Joshua nodded approvingly and slouched down and stretched his legs and closed his eyes.
   A troop of monkeys scolded each other in the tree above them, while parrots and other birds darted and whirled about going nowhere and anywhere. A lion roared off in the distance as the two drifted into a sound sleep. So exhausted that their senses were dull to their surroundings and the potential dangers it might hold. Not an ideal state to be in deep in the jungle.
   There was a movement in the grasses behind their tree. A slight movement, but one none the less. A troop of monkeys descended closer to the sleeping pair and set up a loud ruckus of screeching and howling. They scampered back and forth frantically, scolding and screeching. The breaded man stirred and reached out his hand to grab his canteen, but it fell heavily to the ground. In that instance something seized it and sent a bolt of icy pain straight up his arm. It was followed by a sudden heavy and crushing feeling around his chest and waist.
   The bearded man was instantly awake and immediately recognized the huge head of a large python chewing on his left arm while his thick body was encircling him with in his deadly coils.
   "JOSHUA!" he rolled away, kicking his companion. The weigh of the snake kept the man on his knees, for he was still worn out. Only his fear gave him the strength he needed.
   Joshua, tired as he was, joined the melee, grabbing the reptile in both hands in an effort to remove the deadly coils. After a minute he succeeded, only to have himself included in the snake's suffocating grasp.
   "He's too big Joshua! My hand's numbing!"
   "Bring his head to me, Bwana! It's our only chance!"
   Bravely, desperately the men fought, but the big reptile hung on persistently, draining them with each readjustment of his massive constricting body. The men were still on their knees, the snake's weight making it all but impossible to gain their feet. The bearded man's other arm was pinned in such a way that he could not reach his revolver. And his back was to Joshua's. Slowly the two inched their bodies around to face each other. It was their only chance.
   "A little more Josh! Can you reach it?"
   "Just a little more Bwana! Can you bend down?' and he slid his revolver from its holster, repeatedly squeezing the grip to convince himself that he actually had it in his hand.
   "A little more," Joshua grunted and he placed the bore of the .44 to the base of the python's head. Joshua squeezed the trigger and the big Colt roared and bloody pieces of flesh and bone fragments splattered them. The snake's body trashed wildly about banging the men for a few brief moments then fell limp upon the leafy ground. The men grinned triumphantly at each other and passed out still wrapped in reptile's limp coils.

   Evening found young Kazar still gathering wood and food for the trapped elephant. As the sun began its descent he went and gathered another bowl of sap. From the tree he fetched the remainder of the antelope and placed it by the woodpile. He wished for his sling, for it would aid him in driving off some of the marauding creatures that he knew would come with the darkness. He vowed he would never be without it again. So he set about making two spears and hardened their tips in the fire. Satisfied he flopped down and waited the approaching night. He talked softly to the giant beast and tossed it fodder. He could have gone he knew, or sought safety in the trees. But he had committed himself and he would not change his mind, so strong willed was he.
   "Tomorrow I will free you," he told the bull. He stacked more wood upon the fire until the blaze leaped higher than his height. Then he made his rounds to each torch to make sure they were well caked with the sticky sap. Kazar placed himself between the fire and the elephant and lay down upon a bed of soft grasses he had prepared earlier. His ears listened to the night sounds and the gurgle of the young bull, and the warmth and apparent security of his inferno lulled him to sleep, a spear clutched in one hand.

   "Natu!" shouted Gallo. "Where have you been? What... How did you get up there?"
   The others crowded around the smiling lad, who was obviously enjoying the attention.
   "Ganda and L"Kevo said that you were carried off by..."
   Natu interrupted. "But that cannot be Father, for I am here!"
   "Yes, Natu. We see you." Brother Ragal answered. "But what did happen after you talked to these two tall-talers?"
   The two boys blushed, their brown faces a deep glow. Natu laughed.
   "They followed me and I caught them and told them to go back. When they insisted I went into the trees as Kazar had taught me. Nothing grabbed me!" he glared at the two who were trying to make themselves as small as possible.
   "You went into the trees?" one Warrior asked.
   "Yes. Like Kazar showed me. Come, I will show you." And he started back to the place where he had left the startled youth.
   "I was here. When Ganda and L'Kevo insisted on following me, I leaped to that branch and swung away."
  The men looked at the boy, then the height of the branch, some ten feet above the ground. Natu read their expressions and before anyone else could say a word he leaped to the branch and swung off into the next tree. He stood balancing on a swaying limb above the shocked, dumbfounded spectators.
   "Natu does not lie!" he shouted. And at that, he dove to a lower branch, descending almost as rapidly as he had ascended. When he landed before them, the warriors surrounded him dancing, and pounding their spear butts on the ground. Natu was elated. His little chest swelled so, that he thought it would burst. Ganda and L'Kevo scowled.
   The little ceremony was short-lived when someone mentioned Kazar. The dancing ceased and the ring of jubilant men looked questionably at the boy. For the first time L'Kevo and Ganda showed some signs of life, eager to find out how Natu would explain the absence of Kazar, if he did indeed know him!
   "He went hunting this morning and did not return," Natu explained. "I think he may have went home to his cave, for I have never known him to stay away so long. Unless. . ."
   "What?"
   "Well, I thought that something may have happened to him. It couldn't..." his eyes softened.
   "So what did he say when he left?" his father asked.
   "Well. I did not talk to him, exactly." Again the skeptical stares.
   Ganda smirks, "Again he tells a tale with no proof."
   Natu pulled the note out from the waist of his loincloth and handed it to his father. "He left this note."
   Gallo read it and passed it to Brother Ragal.
   "And you haven't seen him?"
   "No, Brother."
   "Well, it's getting late. We should go back to the village. If he does not show up tonight or tomorrow, we will search for him at the Blue Lagoon first. Okay?"
   "Okay," Natu hung his head and started towards the village.
   Brother Ragal scratched his chin. Rama shrugged his shoulders.
   "Maybe the boy is hurt?" he offered.
   "After all these years, let's hope not, Rama," answered Brother and they fell in behind the column.
  
   While the Warriors of Chief Bulan were returning to their village, Joshua was picking out the python's teeth from his companion's arm. They had slept for a couple of hours and upon awakening found themselves quite refreshed. Except for the burning pain from the snake's teeth and the tingling in their bruised ribs. After extricating themselves from the reptile's still body, the two set to work administering first aid to the wound.
   "Man, I thought a bolt of lighting hit me!" the bearded man was saying. "He really picked a hell of a time to pull that little stunt. Both of us wiped out and all! Joshua, I owe you one. He had me for sure, buddy. If it hadn't been for you!"
   "He could have hit me first, Bwana. We were fortunate to be together. A very big snake indeed. We must have disturbed him."
   "Whatever. But you call me JD from now on Joshua. Okay?"
   "Okay Bwana," he smiled.
   "Dang it Josuha! I owe you my life! Besides, damn it, Bwana sounds kind of silly these days. And I've been meaning to get around to that, only I didn't know how to approach the matter. You know, without insulting or making fun or crossing some taboo line, or whatever. Come on now," he almost pleaded. "It's JD From now on. Okay?
   "Hey! That feels good! I guess this arm will be a little stiff for a while. At least we're on the right trail now. Things should be alright now, as long as we don't have anymore escapades like today's.
   "Help me stretch this turkey out, Joshua."
   "Turkey?"
   "The snake," he chuckled. "Here, give me a hand."
   When the two finished unraveling the mass, they could hardly believe their eyes. They stared in numb disbelief. The huge reptile was nearly three feet in diameter at the widest point, and as close as they could guess, about twenty-six feet long.
   "Damn!" JD kept muttering to himself. Both men knew they were lucky indeed. Had either of them been alone, and as exhausted as they were, the reptile would have surely won. Even had they not been tired, the odds would still have been slim with a snake that size.
   "The jungle is also a good provider," Joshua beamed as he slipped his knife from his boot. He sliced out a half-foot section several feet beyond the head and removed the skin and insides.
   JD removed a small canvas pouch from his pack and stuffed the meat inside.
   "Supper tonight. Hmm, can't wait!"
   Counting their blessings, Joshua and JD donned their packs and started off down the path, occasionally looking back over their shoulders in disbelief towards the giant nemesis and surprise provider. They mutually agreed they would set up camp several miles further, and with a little more scrutiny. They had come quite a distance and the sun was also setting. Plus both were looking forward to the roasted snake meat and a long night's rest.

   The steady rumble of the elephant awoke the boy Kazar. Instinctively, he peered into the darkness beyond, bringing up his spear at the same time. Vaguely he could make out the shadows of several stealthy bodies just outside the torchlight.
   "Have our friends Simba returned?" he asked of the elephant. He tossed more wood on the receding flames. Within seconds, a bright blaze leaped skyward, illuminating deeper into the darkness. Next, he added more sap to his torches, bringing new life to them also.
   Kazar was not afraid as you or I might have been. He was merely concerned for his predicament. He had spent all of his life in the jungle at night. He knew its secrets, its benefits and its dangers, and he prepared himself accordingly to the situation. The fire, besides being warm and comforting, did offer him a decided advantage of being one of the few natural things that most creatures feared.
   "It is only the hyena," he told the elephant. "They will not bother us. I will see to that."
   The bull rumbled, extending his trunk to the boy, who for some strange unknown reason, reached out his hand to the extremity. The tip paused just above Kazar's palm, sniffing. The boy raised his hand until it just barely touched the sensitive organ. At the touch, it drew back suddenly, then slowly extended itself again, going lightly over the boy's hand. Kazar smiled as he watched the trunk inspect him. It also tickled, causing him to giggle. Slowly, the boy closed his hand. The bull offered no resistance. As the boy opened his hand, the bull's trunk wrapped gently around his wrist then released it.
   "Jambo," Kazar smiled. "Jambo friend."
   The bull curled his trunk over his head and trumpeted long and loud, several times. The hyenas scurried away into the night, a lion roared on the plains, followed by the faded thunder of many hoof beats.
   Kazar heaped more wood onto the fire, then laid down upon his grass bed, gazing at the big beast swaying back and forth. The spear slipped from his grasp as he again drifted off to sleep, a smile upon his handsome face.

CHAPTER 11 * NATU'S DECISION
   Safeer the panther sniffed the jungle night. Many scents came to his nostrils, all familiar, some pleasing. A lion off in the distance roared, followed by the laugh of a hyena. The moonlight glowed on the swaying tree-tops and filtered its way down to the jungle floor, casting its silver rays upon the sleek, glossy coat of the panther and his spotted mate.
   Safeer had come of age and followed the hereditary pattern of his kind, seeking out and securing a mate. Now the big cat seemed content and somewhat settled. A lot more than he had been the past few weeks. Of this Kazar knew well, for at times, his brother was unbearable. So the two would split up and go their separate ways, until their moods would allow a compatible relationship.
   And moody was Safeer this night. To every sound he turned, sniffing intently at every changing breeze, his blazing orbs piercing the darkness. A thin wisp of a cloud passed before the moon, casting a shadow across the cat. As though triggered by some strange force, the panther leaped to his feet, startling his mate. A low rumble escaped the black cat's throat as he nuzzled her, turned and trotted off onto the darkness. The female made no attempt to follow. She yawned and stretched, and lay down, her eyes blinking in the direction of her mate who had faded into the shadows.

   Natu slept a restless night, waking constantly, standing at the window, peering out into the night. Once his mother had awakened and saw him standing there with his elbows propped on the sill, staring. She understood. Rising, she went to offer him what comfort she could.
   "Natu," she placed an arm about him. The boy nestled closer to the warm body.
   "I know you worry. But maybe there is no real reason. I am sure your Kazar is alright." The boy looked into his mother's eyes smiling.
   "You believe me? You believe that I know Kazar. I think the others doubt me mother."
   "Yes, I believe you son. Do not judge the others harshly, for it is difficult at times for older men," she emphasized, "to believe what is so obvious before them. Especially when they are so busy with the duties of being men!" she squeezed and massaged his shoulder tenderly. Natu smiled and nestled closer to her warm body.
   "But how..." he started and was interrupted by Moganu.
   "Sleep Natu. Mothers have more time to know such things, as well as their young ones. You will see your friend again, and all will be well."
   She kissed him on the forehead and returned to her bed, leaving the sleepy-eyed boy leaning on the windowsill. Natu yawned, his eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open as the shadow of a cloud stole across his handsome face.

   The long night gave way to a dark forbidding dawn. Dark clouds dominated the skies. The wind began to increase, kicking up swirls of dust on the open plains. Herds of zebra, gnu, antelope and other veldt dwellers moved restlessly back and forth, milling together, then scattering unpredictably. Numerous vultures and eagles and other large birds perched upon rocks and in the safety of the heavily foliaged trees, hesitant to take wing in the ever darkening sky. A pride of lions set up a chorus of roars that echoed across the plains, to be joined by another and another, and the trumpeting of elephants.

   The coolness of the morning air awoke Kazar. He sat up shivering, rubbing his shoulders. He gazed at the dark clouds rolling swiftly in his direction.
   "Storm," he muttered. Reaching over, he grabbed some wood and threw it onto the coals and stoked them with the butt of his spear. Then he knelt and blew upon the coals and presently was rewarded with a flickering flame. He nursed this until he again had a roaring blaze, before which he bathed himself in the comforting heat. The elephant in the muck rumbled. Kazar grabbed the remainder of the bamboo shoots and tossed them to him.
   "Jambo," he shouted. "I had not forgotten you." And he stretched out his hand, standing on the edge of the Bog. The young bull extended his trunk to the boy, who in turn stroked it, cooing softly.
   "Eat now, for we must free you today."
   Turning, he grabbed the antelope and sliced off several pieces of meat and placed them on the tip of his spear and propped it over the blaze. While the meat cooked, he re-supplied his torches with sap and then went to gather more wood and bamboo shoots for the elephant. Satisfied, he sat and ate, quietly watching the clouds accumulate. The wind increased and began to sing a hollow song through the forest.
   Kazar's gaze went from the elephant to the plains, to the skies and to the shelter of the trees beyond. His mind began to wander back. He saw lightning flash across the skies, heard the deafening roar of the thunder, saw trees crack and fall, and felt the cold chill of the pouring, relentless rain. Kazar shuddered involuntarily and his stomach grumbled. He remembered that storm years ago. A fierce storm that had claimed his brother Betu. The long days spent without food, and the long journey to find game to provide for them.
   Then there was the vision of something else. Just a flash! A loud, roaring sound. A strange piece of metal half hidden in the jungle. Pink! And that long agonizing scream! Kazar shook himself and leaped to his feet. He rubbed his face and shook his head vigorously. His chest expanded and he sighed aloud, a lost look fell upon on his face. Suddenly he wished he were back at his den with L'Naura and Safeer. His body tensed, the muscles in his calves tightened and he raised up on his toes and clenched his fists. His angry face turned skyward and from his throat came the blood chilling challenge of the leopard. Over and over several times until the trumpeting of the elephant caught his attention. As though released from a spell Kazar eyed the beast evenly and then smiled sheepishly. And Mother Nature, as if in answer to the small defiant figure, unleashed her lightning and thunder and poured down a torrent of rain.

   The knock at the door was followed by, "It's open! Ah! Rama. What brings you out so early on such a surly day?"
   "Natu's friend, Kazar, Brother."
   "Ah ha, so you're believing it after all, huh?"
   The man grinned. "It is hard not to believe it. Once you think about it. And Natu, out there yesterday in the jungle. It does not seem possible that the boy could learn something like that on his own. Without some help or influence."
   "Yes Rama, I quite agree. I believe he has more than just seen our Leopard boy. I believe he really does know him. And that note is not Natu's handwriting either!"
   "So what now Brother?"
   "Well, I doubt if we'll be seeing him today. Not with that storm kicking up. And we sure wouldn't stand a ghost of a chance out there either, looking. We'll just have to wait it out and hope for the best."
   Rama seated himself, nodding. The other man poured two cups of coffee. They drank for a while in silence. Then Rama spoke.
   "Imagine. A boy that age surviving all this time! With leopards, no less. And how many of us perish in the care of our own kind? It is sort of like the story of..." and he was cut short by Brother Ragal.
   "No Rama. This one's for real!"
  
   Natu picked at his breakfast, staring out of the window at each flash of lightning. His mother watched with interest, for she could sense the growing apprehension in the child. Gallo noted too, but said nothing. He looked to his wife who patted him on the shoulder, assuring him he had done the right thing.
   As the day went on the foul weather seemed to increase. The lightning streaked across the sky in broad bands of light while the thunder echoed over and over and shook the ground with its mighty force wherever it landed. Treetops bent and swayed, some of them snapping to the force of the howling, relentless wind.
   Not a creature in the jungle stirred. Each found some hole or hollow in which to hide, while others less fortunate, flattened themselves against the ground, pressed themselves against trees or huddled tightly together as did the plains dwellers, as they braved the fury of Mother Nature, from whom there was no escape. And even the great panther Safeer, was forced to cower and hide from a force mightier than him, of which there were few.

   Kazar fought desperately to keep his fire and torches going. But the relentless downpour won out, extinguishing everything and drenching the boy to the bone. Gathering the rest of the fodder, he tossed it to the young bull.
   "I shall return," and he grabbed up a spear and retreated to the trees. Sticking the shaft into the ground, he ascended to a deep crouch and huddled there clinging and shivering, as Mother Nature raged about his cold, half-naked body.

   The night was cold and damp. The rain had ceased. Thunder continued to roar and lightning flashed, momentarily lighting the black world. Other than that, all was quiet. Not a creature stirred upon the plains or in the jungle. In the tree by the bog, huddled a cramped, cold and shivering little boy, clad in only a leopard skin loincloth. He rubbed his shoulders and legs, and peered out angrily at the heavens. In the flashes of lightning he could see the young bull, swaying slowly back and forth. Kazar wished for the soft, warm furs of his hut, or the warm body of his mother L"Naura. But he did not complain. It would do no good. He half smiled as he thought of Natu whom he figured to be quite worried at his absence.

   And correct he was. Natu was at the point of being unbearable, pacing the room, tapping the windowsill, and refusing to eat or rest. Gallo's patience was wearing thin with the boy, but the cool, calmness of Moganu, kept things in balance.
   At times, Natu would come and sit next to her, silent, his head on her bosom. And she would cradle him and tenderly caress his back and arms, and rock him gently in front of the warm fire. Thus passed the night for little Natu, troubled but warm, and concerned with the fate of his friend who huddled cold, but uncomplaining, in the dark damp jungle that was so much a party of him.

   Many miles away, Joshua and JD were hiking along the well worn trail towards the river. The sun was high and hot, but the shelter of the overhanging foliage and the breeze, kept them from its intensity. Joshua stopped short and dropped to a crouch. JD followed suit. Both listened intently. Presently, the faint sounds of footsteps could be heard ahead of them. The two men looked at each other, slightly puzzled. As the sounds increased, the men relaxed somewhat, straightened up. And swung their rifles from their shoulders.
   "I didn't think anyone lived in this region anymore, Joshua?"
   "I am not sure JD. Anyone could have moved here in the last few years. Whoever it is though is herding cattle. Listen, hear the bell?"
   Very faintly and occasionally, came the dull tinker of a crudely made iron cowbell.
   "Yeah," answered JD "We may be closer to the river than I thought. Here, let's check this," and he pulled out his map and compass, and spread the former on the ground. The two knelt over the map and oriented it, then began to check their relative bearings.
   And as they were doing so, about a dozen oxen came plodding along, and behind them followed two tall youths, one carrying a staff, and the other, a spear and a pouch suspended from a leather strap slung across his shoulder. The boy holding the spear dropped his weapon to the defensive position, while his companion stood a little behind him.
   Joshua and JD stood up and slung their rifles back onto their shoulders. They smiled at the boldness of the youth. Joshua addressed them in Swahili, one of the common trade dialects throughout the Congo area. The taller boy answered. JD poked Joshua, asking him to find out where they were from and how far they were from the Owatta River.
   The boys told them that they were from a tribe that had newly settled there a few years ago after fleeing from the northeast coast from Arab pirates and slavers. The tribe was split into two villages since the death of their chief. They were on their way to deliver cattle to the daughter of the slain chief, who ruled the other half of the tribe. It was one of numerous gifts from Dakati, who ruled the other half, to entice her to reunite the two tribes by marrying him. She had been strongly refusing, until recently. And Dakati had been increasing his bribes, as the boys put it, to help persuade her to his favor.
   The men and the youth picked out a clearing and sat and ate, talking for hours. The two men surely enjoyed seeing and talking to some other beings beside themselves. And the youths were fascinated at the tales told by the two men on their strange journey. Though it was never said exactly what they were searching for, one of the boys jokingly offered to his companion, that they were probably after the mythical "Kazar-Cowhini." A remark that brought a startled stare from JD that went unnoticed by the boys in their laughter, but not by Joshua. He rarely missed a thing.
   After a time, the two parties parted, each wishing the other a safe, and prosperous journey. Joshua and JD had learned that in their zealous attempt at bushwhacking, they had hit the trail well beyond where they had planned. This explained why they had not passed the fork in the trail. The one trail the youths told them about led to Princess Letti's village. But now they were a couple of days to the better, and that was good.
   Joshua started to say something, but caught himself. He glanced at his companion in concentrated thought as the two made their way to their next camp. Along the way, a small deer fell to Joshua's gun. This would hold them until they reached Dakati's village.

   Before the dawn, the rains had come again. Not as heavily as before, but just as chilling. Thunder rumbled in the distance and an occasional flash of lightning lit the sky. Kazar shook himself and dropped to the ground. He began gathering up as much wood that was available and began fashioning a rude lean-to in the light drizzle. Gathering grasses and leafy branches, he stuffed them in the cracks of the roof and walls of his crude shelter. With the wind down, it would provide a little comfort, for no creatures would be about in this weather to threaten him. More grasses he gathered and placed on the soggy floor of the shelter. Though they were wet, some of them would dry after contact with his body.
   Then, remembering something, he snapped his fingers, and raced over to his old fireplace by the elephant. The bull grumbled and swayed, exerting himself, trying to lift his feet.
   "Yo!" greeted the boy. "It might work. The rain will free you. Soon the water will loosen the mud and you should be free."
   He turned to the baskets of pitch he had gathered. They were mostly washed out, but of what was left, he scraped into one bowl and took to his lean-to. Then he returned to the bull with more food he had gathered and tossed it to him. Finding his fire-starting bow, he snatched it up, pausing briefly at the decomposing carcass of the antelope. Slicing off a small portion, he bolted it down, and left the remainder with a frown. It was spoiled.
   Placing the bow in the shelter, he looked around in the increasing drizzle. No, there would be no hunting today. Or maybe not until later if the rain ceased. So the boy went back to his lean-to and sat upon the wet grasses, his bow set up in front of him, and began the long process of generating enough heat to start a fire, while the rain fell softly about him.

   Natu had been on pins and needles. He swore under his breath. His mother Moganu kept a wary eye on him. Something inside alarmed her.
   "Mother," the boy spoke. "I will go to Brother Ragal's house and ask advice of him."
   "Advice?"
   "Yes, about Kazar, Mother." he almost pleaded.
   "You may go, but do not be difficult for I am sure he is as concerned as you." And she pointed to a robe as the boy started towards the door. Natu snatched it and disappeared.
   "Do you think that was wise?" Gallo questioned.
   "Of course. At least he will feel that he is doing something other than sitting around waiting. Besides, you look like you could use the relief."
   Gallo nodded, frowning. It was one of those times when a father's authority had no solution.
   Brother Regal was sitting on the screened veranda, telling one of his war stories to a group of children. Natu shed his robe and plopped down on the matted floor. Ganda poked L'Kevo and pointed to Natu, giggling.
   "I think he lost his leopard!" Ganda teased.
   In an instance, Natu was up and sprung at the older boy, bowling him over and pounding him on the chest, while the rest of the children jumped up and down, clapping and shouting encouragement. L'Kevo shrank to the rear of the crowd as Natu rose and started toward him, a very determined glint in his eyes. What he would have done may never be known, for Brother Ragal grabbed him just as he lunged.
   "Whoa tiger!" Or should I say leopard!" as he lifted the youth under his arm, and turning to the rest, "Okay, story time is over. Next time."
   The children left, laughing, squealing, and splashing in the rain. Brother Ragal placed Natu down in front of him, eyeing him silently. Finally the boy spoke up.
   "He deserved it, Brother."
   The man nodded, for Ganda was sort of a bully with the younger kids. But it looked as though Natu's sudden attack would keep him in check for a while.
   "I am tired of people teasing me and doubting my word. I do know Kazar! He is my friend! You will see."
   "Natu! I believe you. I must admit, with this weather, we have had some pretty rotten luck. Be patient lad. If he's out there, we'll find him."
   "IF!" Natu glared at the Brother. Turning, he seized his robe and ran from the veranda, down the dusty Village Street to his house.
   "Natu! Wait!" Ragal called. "Damn! Me and my big mouth!"

   Natu stole up to the rear of his house and crawled through an open window. Within a minute, he emerged with his bow and arrows. Keeping in the shadows, he slipped down the village streets and out through the village gates right behind the dozing sentries.

   On a hill overlooking the village of Bulan a huge black panther sat. In the drizzle he could make out a few creatures on the plains, the flickering lights of the village fires, and a stealthy figure making its way towards the jungle. The big cat licked his lips and started downhill towards the figure.

CHAPTER 12 * FEVER
   "Well, there it is," JD gestured, indicating the Ottawa River. Both men watched the lazy current for a while in collected silence before Joshua finally spoke.
   "And now that we have found it?"
   "Now the real search begins," stated JD and he shed his knapsack and pulled his map from his breast pocket. "I've got to check our bearings and find a landmark. An important one mind you. Then I believe it's that way," he pointed. "Maybe two weeks of hiking. Unless... Let's pitch camp over there, I've got to double check something. We can work from here until I find my marker."
   "Sure," answered Joshua. "Can I ask you something?"
   "Shoot."
   "I know that when I took this job, it was no questions asked. But I cannot help but wonder. Are you chasing a myth?"
   "Myth?"
   "One of the cattle tenders jokingly mentioned the Kazar-Cowhini. But your reaction did not take it as such."
   "Oh," chuckled JD. So that's what's bothering you. I think they may have caught me in one of my deep thinking moods. Why?"
   "Cannot say Bwana. Africa is old and has many myths and legends. It is sometimes hard to separate truth from fiction," he replied with a thick native accent. JD regarded the comment with a questioned look.
  
   Natu trotted down the slippery path rather carelessly. He was lucky it was raining and cool, for on a clear day, he may have wound up in the clutches of a big cat prowling the river area, or worse. But on this rainy day, fate was on the concerned youngster's side. Straight to the giant tree that held Kazar's hut he went. Disrobing, he wrapped the garment about his shoulder and chest and began the slippery climb upwards. Once, he lost his grip and fell six feet into a crouch. Uncomplaining, he grit his teeth and continued on until he was just below the hut. Pausing, he gathered his remaining strength, breathing deeply. At first he started to call. Very nimbly he swung himself to the platform, slipping on the slick surface.
   His bow and quiver, he hung next to Kazar's, and his robe in a corner. Then he remembered that there was no fruit or anything to eat. Picking up the book, he thumbed through its pages then laid it aside to gaze out the window at the pouring rain. He pulled Kazar's note from his waistband, re-read it then tucked it back inside his waistband.
   "I shall not go home until I find you," he muttered, staring the direction of his village.

   As the gray day gave way to a dark night, Kazar was somewhat snuggled inside his lean-to, with a small blaze crackling within. The rain had slowed, allowing him to make a few trips to gather more food for the elephant. His own stomach was calling to him also. But there was no game. Nothing. Except! He remembered the spoiled antelope carcass. No! He would wait! But his stomach insisted. The boy fought, but there are certain cravings hard to resist. Finally, he darted from his shelter to the carcass and sliced off a large portion of the shoulder. Then grabbing the remainder of the carcass he flung it into the bog beyond the elephant in an effort to compensate for his weakness. After talking briefly to the young bull, the boy retreated to his shelter where he added more wood to his own fire to cook his meal.
   For a moment the moon peeped through the clouds, its silver rays illuminating the earth. Then it disappeared, engulfed by darker clouds. Kazar noted all of this while enjoying his repast. He seemed neither upset nor concerned. Eventually it would have to cease. Complaining would not change things. Finishing his meal, he piled more wood onto his fire and moved further back into his shelter and curled up like a kitten and slept.

   The rain had ceased and begun several times during the night. The sky began to appear as the clouds parted and allowed the precious moon light to seep through. As dawn approached, more and more of the sky became visible, its brightness forcing the shadows away. The clouds parted swiftly with the stiff breeze.
   The elephant in the bog stirred and moved towards the edge. The rain had done its work loosening the muck sufficiently enough for him to force his way to solid ground. He trumpeted loudly as he made his way, one foot at a time.
   This, plus a loud creaking sound awoke Kazar. His fire was out and he noted that the rain had also ceased. As he began to rise an awful pain knotted his stomach. His head throbbed strongly. The wind increased briefly and there was a sharp crack above him. All of the boy's instincts and pre-monitions told him to move fast, but his body did not seem to want to cooperate. It seemed as though something was holding him by the ankles as he dove from the leanto as it collapsed behind him. His shoulder radiated in pain and something heavy hit him upon the back of his head. The boy struggled to rise to all fours, his teeth gritted and muscles straining. The nape hairs on the back of his neck bristled a warning. He could barely make out the huge, bulky, gray form in front of him before he collapsed.

   A herd of zebras thundered across the veldt below, kicking up clouds of dust in their wake. The blue waters of a river reflected the bright sun. Suddenly there were flamingoes. Hundreds of them! Everywhere! Screeching, flapping, and thumping. Things began to spin. A scream! A long horrified scream. Then silence. Nothing!
   A touch. A soft tickling sensation. Kazar awoke with a start. The back of his head ached. He rubbed his heavy eyes and rolled over onto his back. Oh, how it ached. He stiffened as the tickling started again on his leg. Raising himself on an elbow, he focused his blurred vision on a huge gray mass towering above him. He blinked his eyes and rubbed them again to clear his vision, though his nose had already told him the story. The elephant was free and standing there before him.
   Gradually his senses returned and the boy sat up, his body tingling with excitement as the tip of the trunk ran across it.
   "Ah my friend. You are free! Good!"
   The bull rumbled. Kazar grabbed the hanging trunk, using it to help him stand. He patted the great beast, leaning his body against a tusk.
   "You are free to go back to your people friend. I must return to mine. "Ow!" he grimaced rubbing the back of his aching head.
   One look at the lean-to told the story. It had been smashed by a huge limb that had fallen from the tree. One of its branches had caught him on the head. Again his stomach knotted and the boy doubled over, grasping it, grimacing. He fell to his knees, breathing heavily. For awhile he sat thus, trying to heave though nothing happened. Kazar knew that it was the meat. It could be nothing else. He had survived before, so he would survive now. Of this he was sure.
   Looking around, he found one of his spears and used it to stagger to his feet. Noting that the elephant was still there he stroked it gently on the trunk and bade him farewell.
   "Maybe we shall meet again friend. I must go. My..." he paused, gasping. "Must find Natu. Farewell friend," and he started across the flooded bog towards the jungle, one feeble step at a time, leaving the huge young bull swaying and grumbling, watching pained youth.
   Poor little leopard's cub. Hurt and alone, yet determined, as he sloshed his way through the swamp. Twice he fell, only to drag himself up by his spear shaft to continue on.
   The jungle began to come alive with the new day. Creatures came forth to greet the warm rising sun, satisfy their hunger and cleanse and dry their wet bodies. Monkeys picked and groomed each other, while brightly colored birds preened themselves, stretching their aching wings in the welcomed warmth. All of the jungle seemed quite content and at peace with the new day. All except one half-naked staggering little boy who made his way slowly through the jungle. His body was burning with pain and his vision blurred, but still he kept on.
   A rumbling behind him caused him to turn, spear on guard. And in doing so he lost his balance and fell to the wet turf in the path of the approaching elephant. Kazar propped himself up, spear pointed at the ponderous beast, a snarl escaping his lips. Hurt and wounded, a leopard is the most dangerous of beasts, ready to fight to the end. And such was the delirious Kazar, the leopard cub, defiant to the end.
  
   Moganu was very agitated and worried. Natu had not returned, and it was late. She went to the houses of his friends first and then to Brother Ragal's, remembering that he did mention going there. The man listened patiently, trying to calm her at the same time. He told her that Natu had been there, and of the fight, and that he had left afterwards in the direction of his house. Maybe he was somewhere in the village, sulking. Moganu looked at the Brother then the jungle beyond.
   Gallo entered the room. When he told them that the boy's bow and arrows were missing this confirmed Moganu's fears. Her Natu had run off into the jungle to find Kazar. That was the only answer.
   Gallo hugged her to comfort her, for he knew that she would break down in tears as soon as the realization of the situation fully hit her. But she surprised him and Brother Ragal. Throwing back her head haughtily, she squared her shoulders and stated.
   "We should not worry. Natu is the friend of Kazar, who was raised in the jungle. The boy must have learned well to survive this long. So Natu having learned from him, will be well. He is not a little boy!" Though deep down inside she did not really believe that last remark. But she left the two men quite impressed, as she squared her shoulders and marched off to her house.
   "It is late Gallo. I must rest to prepare a meal for our young man when he returns tomorrow," she flung. The dark shadows hid the one salty, moist teardrop that slid down her smooth brown cheek.
  
   Natu felt good snuggled beneath the soft, warm furs. A scolding parrot perched on the windowsill told him that the rain had ceased. Turning over as though expecting someone, he stood up momentarily puzzled. Then grabbing his bow and quiver, he started for the doorway, pausing long enough to tack a note on the frame. In the distance he saw the smoke from the cook fires rising from the houses of his village. He sighed at the thought of his mother worrying, then leaped to a lower branch and descended to the ground where he searched for a fresh spoor of game in the direction of the river.
   By his favorite fishing hole he stoned a lizard, which he roasted along with some roots he had dug up along the forest edge. His belly satisfied he scattered the remains of the fire so as to leave no trace of his presence.
   "Now, I will check our other place, and then the Blue Lagoon. That is the only place he could be...  Unless. No! It cannot be!"
   Gazing at the rising sun, Natu started off on his quest, bow in hand, while in his house, an expectant mother waited.

   The swaying motion woke the boy. The ground was passing beneath him. Kazar blinked and attempted to stand, but his feet could not find the ground. Something firm held him by the waist. He twisted about, grasping the thing and stared into the dark beady eyes of the bull elephant from the bog. He remembered the beast approaching him, but nothing afterwards. He smiled faintly, tapping the beast on the trunk.
   "Hey! Hey, stop! Let me down!" he tapped the trunk again. The beast halted and released him, dropping him to the ground. Kazar sat there a moment rubbing his throbbing head.
   "I must have passed out. I still feel dizzy. Thank you friend." He reached out to the trunk, using it to help him stand up.
   "I am thirsty. My throat feels like fire." The bull stood silent, swaying gently and lifted his trunk into the wind. The boy stroked behind an ear and the beast gurgled, caressed him with his trunk.
   "Come," he tugged on an ear and started off. The bull followed, snatching up tender shoots and ripping branches off as he went. Some fruit the boy picked along the way to hold him until he found water. His stomach still grumbled and his head still ached. But it would pass he reasoned. Though now would not be too soon.
   Once, the boy stumbled, momentarily blacking out. After a few minutes rest he was up and on his way, the elephant dogging his footsteps. He was thankful for the company of the great bull. Especially for the protection he afforded. Though he told himself that he was fine, he knew better. If he were suddenly confronted it was doubtful that he could adequately defend himself. Eventually the two came upon a stream and Kazar fell into it burying his burning head for seconds at a time. Ah! The cool waters were refreshing! This was good! The boy splashed himself repeatedly, rubbing his sore body.
   The elephant's trunk went up. Kazar was quick to notice. He froze. Something was coming. He crouched, stalking toward it. A yearling gazelle tiptoed into view. Kazar drew his knife and leaped. His weight crushed the animal to the ground, but his hands failed to cooperate. After a minimum amount of struggling and two sharp blows to the chest, the gazelle sprang free, leaving a startled and dazed little boy. He sheathed his knife and stood up, only to fall to his knees and heave up the fruit he had eaten earlier. His stomach tightened and knotted as he gagged, finally forcing up some of the spoiled meat. Kazar reeled back and forth, shivering, and hurting, trying to regain his feet.
   "Ma... Mamita!" he cried and passed out.

   JD and Joshua found the village of Dakati quite pleasant. It was a welcome relief from camping out along the river where they had originally intended. Warm shelters, food and people! People to talk to, to listen too!
   Chief Dakati didn't seem such a bad fellow, though he did boast a bit. To hear him tell it, he routed the whole Arab nation so that his people could escape. Everyone has their own hang-ups so Joshua and JD let the Chief have his moment of glory.
   For the two days that they stayed the two men went afield and brought down game for the village larder in return for the hospitality. The Dakui villagers were very pleased, for the men had bagged over a month's supply of meat for them. Each of them was graciously presented with tokens of appreciation. Bracelets, necklaces, blankets, some of which they had to leave or refuse for lack of space in their packs. And for a box of ammunition for Dakati's old '06 Springfield, each were given a half a dozen uncut diamonds the size of jellybeans. The men were elated and bid Chief Dakati and his people many good fortunes when they departed.
   Every few minutes JD would pull the pouch from his pocket and peer into it in disbelief. Joshua smiled one of his slow smiles.    
   "Other men would kill for them and they just give them to us for some ammo."
   "Yeah. Strange the way different people value things. I wonder how much they would have paid for a gun?" he mused.
   "Right," Joshua grinned.
   JD chuckled and hunched his companion. Then something caught his eye. He halted the man with a hand gesture and peered long and hard into the foliage. There was a hesitant but longing look in his eyes. He seemed frozen in place. Presently he turned to his companion who nodded towards the jungle.
   "If you don't need me, I'll wait here."
   "Thanks." JD shed his pack and rifle. He removed a camera from a side pocket on the pack and departed into the growth. Joshua gathered the man's gear and went over to a tall tree where he shed his own gear and sat. He produced a little book from his pack and removing his canteen he uncapped it and sipped casually.
   "Pow! Pow!" two shots rang from the jungle. Joshua was up in a flash and running towards the sounds. He crammed the book into his pocket and clicked the safety off of his rifle.
   When JD entered the undergrowth he felt a tingling sensation as he drew near the clearing. A sensation that caused him to halt speechless as his eyes fell to rest on the rusted remains of a light aircraft protruding boldly from the forest floor. Off to the left were two graves. What was that? JD stepped from his concealment and as he did so a hyena, half hidden in the partially dug up grave rose and walked off. Silently and swiftly, JD whipped his revolver from its holster and fired two shots. The animal dropped without a sound.
   These were the shots that Joshua had heard. When he reached the clearing, he saw the kneeling figure of JD slumped over one of the graves. Beyond them he saw the body of the hyena. A glint of shinning metal on one of the wooden crosses caught his eye as he approached. He stood silent behind the man. JD rose, his head bowed, his eyes slightly puffed. Two moist lines trailing from the corners of his eyes disappeared into his beard. Joshua placed a hand upon his shoulder.
   "I'm okay Josh. Just got carried away. Let's pitch camp here as soon as I get some pictures.
   "Sure," and he went to get the gear.
   That night after dinner, while sipping the strong native coffee, JD offered a partial explanation.
   "Guess you're convinced now that I'm after that Kazar-Cowhini, huh Joshua?"
   "Yes, it would seem so JD. The people in the plane, you know them?"
   "You could say that Joshua. This boy that they call the Kazar-Cowhini. He could have come from here. It's a hunch I've been working on for some time. A pretty good one too. But I have to prove it first. You might say I owe it to someone."
   "I think I understand. We should turn in. Big task starts tomorrow. A lot of walking. Unless you know a faster way." He nodded towards the rusted skeleton.
   "Yes I believe there is, Joshua. I'll show you tomorrow on the map. I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight after sleeping on that soft grass bed the last two nights. Damn," he grumbled.
   "Well. We can always go back to the village. I did see something there that interested me."
   "Good night Josh!"

CHAPTER 13* A SEARCH BEGINS
   By noon the search party was leaving the village to look for Natu. Moganu watched silently, expressionless, as the half dozen men disappeared into the jungle. There was nothing to do but wait. Wait and worry and...  Moganu's chest rose and fell heavily as she sighed hard with finality, snatched a short spear from a passing youth and marched through the village gates into the jungle.

   The big panther paused beneath the tree, sniffing its base with much concern. He leaped straight up to the lowest branch, again sniffing. A snarl escaped his lips. He continued upwards not quitting until he was perched upon a swaying branch overlooking Kazar's hut. A short leap placed him in the entrance, ears pricked forward. Entering, he searched the place and emerged, rumbling deeply, ending with a loud snarl. The jungle was momentarily quiet, then resumed its activities as the big cat descended.
   The cumbersome robe caused Natu to cache it in the crouch of a tree, blazing its trunk with his knife. He would fetch it later he thought, gazing at the sky, seeming to know that the rains had spent themselves. At a small clearing in the forest, the boy halted, notching an arrow on his bow as he peered through the foliage, stepping lightly.
   "Kazar," he whispered. Nothing. "Kazar!" he called. Still nothing.
   A fruit fell to the ground in front of him. Looking up he saw a small monkey hanging by its tail, arms out-stretched. Natu smiled, picked up the fruit and handed it to the little creature, who in turn threw it back to him. Natu handed it to him again. And again the monkey threw it to him. Once more he picked up the fruit, this time pausing.
   "It looks good enough to me," and he took a bite, watching the monkey out of the corners of his eyes.
   "Very good! Thank you friend," he bit into the fruit again. The monkey screeched and scolded, scampering up and down the branch, and then returned, to swing by his tail in front of the laughing youth.
   "Here," offered the boy. The monkey snatched the fruit with a grimace and scampered off.
   "Well," sighed Natu. "I guess it is the Blue Lagoon. He must be there."
   Replacing his arrow inside the quiver he crossed the clearing confidently and disappeared into the forest on the other side. The humid warmth of the forest felt good on his body. The going was easy for the underbrush was sparse, leaving a small path to run uninterrupted between the great trees. Natu was confident that he would succeed in his quest. His mind ran back to his first encounter with Kazar and the great panther. He relived all the times they had spent learning from each other. Him teaching, Kazar learning. Kazar teaching, him learning. Each thirsting for more than their impatient minds could hold. He could still see the shocked faces of his parents and the villagers when he described his relationship with the leopard boy. Then he imagined their faces when he and Kazar would enter the village for the first time together. He would be very proud. And the center of attention too. Yes, it would be good, dreamed Natu as he trotted along.
   "Hisss!" very loud and unmistakable was the sound, followed by a rustle and movement on the ground. Natu leaped quickly and nimbly to one side, almost stumbling when he landed. Gaining his balance, his eyes focused on a dark cobra rising before him, hood spread and mouth open.
   "Whew!" Natu breathed deeply. Removing an arrow from his quiver and backing off at the same time he checked the ground around him as he did so. Cobras he knew to be quite temperamental and could be rather aggressive in comparison with other snakes. And they sometimes traveled in pairs. He was also well aware of the deadly venom that could kill a grown man in a matter of minutes. Surely it would not take half that time on a small boy such as himself.
   "Yes," he thought, he had been very lucky not to have... A tingling sensation in his right foot caused his leg to buckle beneath him momentarily. What a time for his leg to fall asleep he swore.  The big snake moved slowly toward him, its two tiny fangs showing from its open mouth and the dark expressionless eyes staring through him.
   The tingle increased to a slow burning pain that intensified each time he placed weight upon his foot. Natu looked at his foot. He eyes went wide when he saw the scar on his ankle. He had been bitten! Suddenly he felt sick, afraid, and then angry, as he thought of Moganu, Gallo and Kazar. He would never find him now! Nor would anyone find him either.
   Drawing his bow to its full length Natu released the deadly shaft, the point of which had its own potent medicine. It imbedded itself in the middle of the lunging cobra. Fortunately cobras are slow strikers, which made moving out of its way rather easy for the groggy youth who was notching another arrow and aiming at the thrashing reptile. But Natu did not shoot. He watched a second, then turned and staggered on his way. Water! He must have water to ease his burning body.
   As the boy staggered on the thrashing snake attracted a passing secretary bird. The long-legged bird eagerly completed the arrow's job and dragged the body off under a bush to feed. After a hundred yards or so Natu found a stream. He drank and splashed himself. Taking his knife he sliced open the wound on his ankle, now so numb that he did not feel the blade slicing his flesh. He was lucky. He had only been nicked. He knew that he would survive. But now he knew that he would never want to take a full bite. If a scratch felt this bad it wasn't hard to imagine how a full bite felt. Natu propped his back against the bole of a tree closed his heavy eyelids and passed out.
   JD was showing Joshua the proposed route they might take.
   "While you were out socializing the other night, I was talking with one of the elders who had heard some of the rumors of the Kazar-Cowhini. He also told me that the river would cut our journey considerably cause it goes near the territory of Chief Bulan and the Wazi. There we should get all the cooperation we need. The Blue Lagoon, where the boy is supposed to live, isn't far from his village. But it seems that he frequents the vicinity of the village.
   "Hmm," mused Joshua. "This Chief Bulan. What sort is he?"
   "From what I hear, he's a pretty powerful man. Educated in Europe also. Has the largest tribe in the area. And he's a Christian. There's a Missionary and a small hospital there. So we won't be exactly be dealing with savages. They say he's pretty sharp."
   "I'll bet his spear is too," chuckled Joshua. "So we'll be eaten by holy savages, huh."
   "Well, let's get going. There'll be a dugout on the bank by a Wickka tree."
   Joshua raised his brows. "You have been busy."
   The two packed their gear and after a final look at the rusted fuselage of the plane and the faintly visible graves, departed to the river bank where there was indeed a canoe, tended to by a boy who ran off when they approached. Joshua picked up the sack lying beside it, opened it and peered in, smelling. He passed it to JD
   "Smell!"
   JD poked his nose in and sniffed. A pleasant but questioned look on his covered his face.
   "That's what socializing can do for you also. She must have known of the canoe, because she was supposed to leave it on the trail," Joshua smiled.
   The men inspected the craft and the paddles. Convinced that it was seaworthy they lashed their gear inside and shoved off into the lazy current. From concealment near the river bank a rather attractive female watched as the canoe carried the two men out of sight, while far away, a young bull elephant stood quietly over the crumbled form of an unconscious Kazar.

   Gallo was the first to rise, stretching, and yawning. Others began to follow suit. The party had gone first to the place where Natu had disappeared the other day. From there they went to the boy's favorite fishing spot, and after a rather diligent search, found fragments of Natu's fire. It didn't take Rama long to read the story.
   "Smart boy," he remarked. "He does not wish to be followed."
   Gallo nodded, beaming. It took the rest of the day for them to find what tracks they could and follow them until they ceased. So this new morning found them refreshed and ready to take up the slow search again, trying to decide where they should proceed.
   "Yes, the trees!" exclaimed Brother Ragal. "He went into the trees! That's why we've been losing his trail so much. And he knows we could never find his trail up there. Smart lad indeed."
   "But," replied Gallo. "Where is he headed? Where do we...?"
   "The Blue Lagoon," interrupted a voice from behind. The startled men turned to see Moganu strolling towards them.
   "Moganu!" Gallo exclaimed.
   "The Blue Lagoon is where Natu went," she continued. "I am almost sure of it."
   "Moganu," Gallo repeated. "What are you doing here?"
   "Looking for our son!" she snapped impatiently. Then. "Did you hear what I said? The Blue Lagoon is where the boy Kazar lives. So that is where Natu is going. Otherwise he would have returned home sooner."
   "But that is over a day's journey!" protested Gallo.
   "Quiet Gallo! When will you not admit that little Natu is growing up, instead of always seeing him as a helpless child? Enough talk! Let us go to the Blue Lagoon!" and she shook her short spear in her husband's face.
   "But... But you can't..." he started but was cut off by Moganu's "He is my son also!"
   The party started off, leaving a bewildered if not surprised Gallo standing alone. Finally snapping too, the man trotted off after the party, pride glowing on his ebony face.

   The wart hog trotted up to the waterhole and drank loudly, his tail switching back and forth. When he finished he looked around then trotted off. Not ten paces had he gone when something heavy hit him, knocking him off his feet. The hog squealed and kicked violently as he felt the hot pain, which started from his neck, shoot through his body. He heard the deep grumbling growls but never once saw the big panther that was straddling him before he closed his eyes for the last time.
   Safeer shook the carcass roughly then released it. He glared about menacingly then settled down to feast. This was the first large kill he had made since the rains and he stuffed himself. After finishing he retreated to the cool shade and stretched out and purred in contentment. He dared to allow the evening breeze to lull him to sleep on the ground instead in the safety of a high tree branch.

   Natu awoke sluggishly. He rubbed his eyes and yawned an exhausted yawn. His eyes slowly focused and he surveyed his surroundings. Then he remembered the cobra. Drawing his leg up he checked his ankle. The swelling was gone and the cut had clotted. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. Yes, he was fine. There would be a scar. But what of it he mused? A badge of accomplishment! A trophy of battle! Not many people survive a cobra bite.
   Refreshed, the spirited youth jumped to his feet, snatched up his bow, tested his leg and trotted off towards the thick jungle. His pace was steady and sure for he was determined, even convinced that his mother was right. He would find Kazar.
   As Natu reached the jungle a peculiar odor came to his nostrils. A very strong odor. He then recognized it as the decaying vegetation of a swamp. Leaping into a tree the boy swung along over the trail. This would take him to the veldt that he must cross to get to the hills that separated his village from the valley of the Blue Lagoon. Below, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a leopard. Stalking something no doubt. In the distance a lion roared, followed by another. Parrots fluttered restlessly through the foliage and monkeys scolded and taunted the passing youth who occasionally took enough time to mock them.
   Presently the lithe youngster dropped to the ground. Silent as a cat was he, his soft brown skin taunt and muscles stiff as he stalked his prey, his bow ready. A doe glided across his path but he did not shoot. Natu was hungry but he did not see the need in shooting something he could not completely consume. So he went on, picking his way as Kazar had taught him, and listening intently.
   Off to his left he picked up the sound of snapping twigs and brittle brush rubbing against each other. Silently, cautiously, he slipped towards the noise, which increased as he drew nearer. The boy wrinkled his brow. What? Then as he peeped around a tree he saw the huge form of a young bull elephant with a handsome set of tusks stripping the thin branches off the saplings around him. Beyond him, in the small clearing, he could make out a small stream, reflected in the sun's rays. Then, just as he was about to leave, he saw it. Just barely in the grasses, he could make out part of the spotted coat of a leopard.
   "Ha!" he laughed half aloud. "Foolish cat. The elephant will crush you!" And in that instance the young bull's trunk went up and he turned in Natu's direction, trumpeted loudly, and charged.
   "Oh, oh," the boy turned and beat a hasty retreat. He scrambled up a slanting bole and leaped to a springy branch and swung off as fast as he could, leaving the huge beast standing beneath the tree, trumpeting and shaking his head vigorously. Natu did not bother to look back to see the bull turn and retreat back into the thicket to the clearing by the stream. But he thought of the surprise that the leopard would get when discovered. Yet that thought also caused him a brief unexplained feeling that he casually dismissed.
   Just as the sun began to die Natu succeeded in shooting a hen. After eating he retreated to the branch of a large tree where he could sleep unmolested. In the morning he would cross the veldt.

   Night found Natu's searchers sitting around a blazing fire, talking softly. Moganu had walked to the edge of the light and leaned against a tree, staring out into the jungle night. She turned at the sound of someone approaching from behind. It was Brother Ragal, a lit pipe in his mouth.
   "Moganu?"
   "Brother Ragal," she smiled. "I thought you were talking with the others?"
   "I was until I saw you leave."
   "Oh? I am fine. I just wanted to be alone. To think."
   "Of Natu. Of course." he placed a hand upon her shoulder. "I'm sure that he's ok. You should be proud to have such a son. And you too believe he's okay. But your mother's emotion won't let you. Trust in God. You and Gallo are very fortunate indeed. Hmm, it looks as though the others are turning in," he glanced over his shoulder. "Coming?"
   Moganu blushed, bowing her head slightly. "In a little while."
   Ragal nodded and returned to the fireside, leaving the woman to her thoughts.
   Gallo shot a questioning look to the returning man, who in turn jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Gallo rose and went to his wife standing just out of the light of the dying fire.
   The silver moonlight filtered through the trees, falling partially upon two silent figures embraced on the soft grasses of the forest floor.

CHAPTER 14 * WHAT THE JUNGLE TOLD
   The night was a restless disturbing one for young Kazar. He tossed and turned, sweated and shivered. His head and stomach throbbed with pain and caused him to do something he had rarely ever done. Cry. Once, he rolled into the stream and would have drowned had it not been for the ever-faithful young bull elephant steadfastly guarding his troubled, confusing little friend.
   Various night creatures attracted by the boy's sobs, slipped up to investigate, only to be routed by the bull with an ear-shattering trumpet and swash-buckling tusk display. Nothing passed his great ears and sensitive trunk unnoticed. Fortunately for the boy.
   Sometime before dawn Kazar fell into a deep undisturbed sleep, his breathing relaxed. The young elephant went to drink and feed, but always with an eye or ear towards the sleeping youth. Then he would return to hover over the small figure like some huge over-sized spirit.
   Kazar awoke in the hot noon sun. Slowly at first, rubbing his eyes. When he saw the elephant he smiled and reached for the beast's trunk, using it to help him stand up. Leaning against the beast, he stroked its thick hide. The elephant rumbled his approval.
   "I guess I got sick. You are a good friend. I should be dead, for surely some cat or maybe the python would have taken me had you not been here. Thank you friend," he caressed the thick trunk. Looking around to collect his bearings first, the boy then took a step. He stumbled and grabbed onto the trunk momentarily to regain his balance then continued on. At the stream he knelt and drank, at times submerging his head completely. Having satisfied his thirst and cooled his hot body, he stood and stretched, and let out a boyish whoop that echoed through the treetops.
   "I am hungry," he told the bull, visually checking the area. A couple of frogs he stoned by the stream and hastily consumed them. On the other side he dug up some casava roots and tore into them. After an hour of foraging Kazar re-crossed the stream and sat down in the soft grasses by its edge. He shook his head as though trying to rid himself of something. His eyes blinked rapidly. His stomach twitched and his head seemed to swell. Jumping up, he ran to a sapling and grabbed it and stooped over and heaved up the frogs, the roots, the fruit, and the rest of the spoiled antelope. Wobbly and looking somewhat groggy, he went back to the stream, flopped on his belly and drank very long. After finishing, he rolled over on his back, arms outspread, and laughed.
   "Foolish Kazar. You are lucky indeed." And then to the elephant. "I will sleep friend. In a few hours we will go to the village of my friend Natu. So eat big one, I shall be fine. I am well now, and nothing will pass my ears."
   The bull eyed the youth evenly and stood there as the youth curled up and was soon fast asleep, snoring lightly in relaxed slumber. Nor did Kazar wake in a few hours as he normally would have. His body demanded rest to properly recover from his fever, so he slept.
   Having removed all of the available browse in the immediate vicinity the elephant strolled into the nearby thicket to strip the saplings. He fed into the evening, occasionally stopping to listen and look to the sleeping boy. It was just before he started to return to the stream that he heard a noise. He turned, lifting his trunk into the air sniffing. He picked up a scent and charged towards it, trumpeting loudly. A small brown figure, much like that of his sleeping friend, darted from cover and disappeared into the protecting foliage above. It was Natu!
   Poor little Natu! So close, yet so far away. Could he have but known that the leopard he saw in the grasses was the loincloth of his own friend, Kazar! So on he went, determined to find his friend, unaware of the strange trick that fate had played upon them. And Kazar slept well that night, waking twice to drink, then curling up beneath the protective bulk of his giant friend.

   JD and Joshua had been several days on the river, paddling from sun-up well into the night. JD was excited as was evident in each vigorous stroke. Joshua, in his quiet way, was beginning to show some outward signs of enthusiasm.
   Several times along the banks, they came across travelers or small villages. They inquired about Chief Bulan's village and the Kazar-Cowhini. Always the answer was the same! Yes! They all knew him. Chief Bulan was the leader of the mighty Wazi, a people second only to the mighty Zulu who once ruled in the entire south.
   It was Bulan's grandfather who had begun the wars against the Arab slave traders. But it was Bulan's father, who, upon the death of his father, during a major battle, succeeded in defeating them and driving them from the Congo region forever. The Kazar-Cowhini they were told lives in the Wazi territory and protects them from outsiders, for they were allies. Though none of them had ever seen the leopard boy, they were sure of his existence. Especially if he came from so large a domain as Chief Bulan's.
   This information excited the men considerably. It also cleared up some of the gray areas in Chief Dakati's tale about the routing the slavers. Seems he was merely a small player supporting a larger force. The Wazi.
   Another snatch of talk they had picked up did cause JD some concern. Several times they caught talk of a band of men who were traveling through the jungle in search of the leopard boy. Who they were, or where they had come from, the men could not find suitable answers. Only that they were a heavily armed rough, mean looking lot.  And it was the mutual consensus that they meant the boy no good. The two men increased their pace, determined to reach the village of Bulan to enlist his aid.
   Evening caught them nearing a large waterfall. Most of the rapids were negotiable, but it would be suicide to jump these falls. They would have to portage. In the face of the new information about another search party, JD swore. It was a mile trip around the falls. Delays! Joshua said nothing, just cooperated.
   That night in camp JD shaved his beard away, blaming the heat. He also apologized for this temper offering only that it was important that they find this boy before the others did. He agreed that they do relax their pace rather than charge along recklessly, for they could not accomplish anything injured or dead.
   To this latter part Joshua agreed, recalling to his companion to keep in mind how rumors come and go in the brush. Specifically indicating the motives and validity of the other searchers. This JD conceded, but he did not wish to dismiss the thought completely. Just before he fell asleep, he noticed Joshua write briefly into a small notebook then quickly place it into his pack.

   Natu had crossed the tree dotted veldt with the rising sun and was well into the jungle, while his father's party was just getting under way. The thick jungle vegetation gave way finally to an open forest. This made their going easier. They knew that the veldt would not be far beyond.
   Moganu strolled beside her husband whose determined countenance could not hide the soft gleam in his eyes when he looked at her. Brother Ragal was walking with Rama, chatting about their progress. A smoking pipe hung from his mouth and his 30-06 Savage rifle was slung from his shoulder.
   Something in the brush caught Rama's eye. He paused and hand signaled the rest to halt.  Stalking carefully, his eyes alert, he eased forward. A few yards away he stooped and picked up Natu's arrow from the half-consumed carcass of a dead cobra.
   "Natu's," he held up the shaft. And toeing the snake, "He shot it. And it looks as though the Snake-bird finished it!" The others crowded around for a closer look.
   "Seems we've stumbled on his trail again," offered Ragal. He removed his hat and wiped his forehead and the inner hatband. "And it does appear that he's headed for the Blue Lagoon. See.  His tracks."
   "But why did he shoot the cobra?" asked Moganu, fearful the answer. "Or come this way?"
   "Because it attacked him," Rama answered the first question. "Look here! He was running. Then jumped here, where the tracks cease. See here, where he landed. The snake must have been lying here by the bush. This is where the Snakebird got the snake. See how the ground is scattered," he pointed, but offered no explanation to the second part of the question.
   "Is he hurt? Can you tell?" Moganu asked.
   "No. I do not think so," offered her husband. He placed a comforting around her shoulder. "You are right. Our son is no longer a little child. Look here, his tracks go that way," he continued. "Towards the plains."
   As the party followed the tracks doubt began to surface about the boy's condition. An occasional dragging mark indicated that something was wrong with his right foot. Moganu watched and listened but kept silent. The boy was mobile so he was alive. At the tree where Natu had slept, their questions were answered. The boy had been injured. The traces of dried blood told that. But was it from the snake or what?
   The continuing tracks told a different story though, for they progressed in the pattern of a normal healthy child. Puzzled, but satisfied that he was at least alive, the party hastened their pace to the plains, but not before sending Ahmed back to the village with news of their progress.

   Kazar sprang up full of life, stretching, yawning. He breathed in deeply and expelled loud gushes of air. He vigorously rubbed his arms shoulders and chest and threw his head back and shouted, shaking his clenched fists in the air. The young bull raised his trunk and trumpeted and reached down and picked the boy up by the waist with his trunk.
   "Hey!" the boy laughed. "Come! I am hungry." He slapped the trunk. "Down," he squirmed.
   The bull eyed him and slowly raised his trunk. Kazar eyed the beast directly and slapped him again on the trunk. "Down!" he commanded. Then softly, "Please?"
   The bull lowered him gently, though the boy braced himself, remembering the last time the elephant had dropped him.
   "Jambo," the boy patted the trunk. "Come!" and he trotted off in the direction of Natu's village. The young bull elephant followed close upon his heels.
   On the way a dik-dik fell to the blade of the boy's knife. His attack was swift and silent. Kazar was elated for this strength and speed had returned. He was alive! Once again he had survived against the savageness of his savage home. He hacked off a large portion of the quarter and tore into it with his strong white teeth. Crimson blood smeared his face and rolled down his chest. Ah, the hot raw flesh was delicious, satisfying, and fulfilling. He ate heartily while the young bull browsed. After eating his fill, he relieved himself, stashed the remainder of the antelope in a tree, then called to his companion and trotted off with haste towards the Wazi village.

   Natu halted, shocked. There was no water here before! Then he remembered that it was a creek bed. But usually it was dry having only an occasional stream of water running through it. Now it was a swift running river nearly fifty yards wide. The rains! He could not wade across he knew, from having walked across it when it was dry, and climbing the steep banks. The rapid torrent made swimming out of the question.
   He looked overhead. There! The perfect tree, a large silver oak a few yards away, with long thick branches spanning over most of the water. Placing his bow inside his quiver, he scampered up the twisting trunk to the top. There, perched near the end of a long springy limb, the boy surveyed the opposite side, looking for a likely branch. The only one that seemed able to support his weight appeared to be too far. Natu frowned. A stiff breeze rocked his branch, causing him to rock up and down. There was a sharp crack and at that sound Natu leaped. He sailed gracefully to the other side with grace, just barely catching the intended limb. Nimbly, the boy swung himself to the ground and continued on his way in the slowly descending sunlight.

   Along the way an idea hit Kazar. Halting his great friend, he tapped its knee and grabbed his trunk. The beast swayed and grumbled. Again the boy repeated his action. The elephant repeated his. A third time and the elephant raised his knee, curling his trunk to the side. Kazar grabbed the ear and quickly scrambled up to the neck and straddled it. He patted the beast approvingly on the head.
   "Good friend," he rubbed behind the great ears, causing the animal to gurgle and rock back and forth. The boy laughed. "Your tribal dance?"
   He rubbed the ears harder. The bull trumpeted loudly, curled his trunk over his head and rubbed the boy's chest with its tip.
   "Ok, ok. I give! I will not tickle you anymore if you will not tickle me," he fenced off the trunk. "Let's go!" he shouted. "To Natu, friend."
   The bull stood fast.
   "Come on!" the boy urged, slapping the broad back. The bull did not move. And when he kicked him the beast lurched forward, almost knocking the startled youth to the ground. Now he had the secret. Kicking harder, he urged the beast into a trot. Along the way he also learned that he could change directions by pulling on the ear in the direction he wanted to go. For instance, if he wished to go right, he yanked on the right ear and the beast would turn right to relieve the tugging on his big sensitive ear. Kazar was not abusive, just enthusiastic, as are most boys his age. Much like the ranch boy who gets his first horse. And this he showed by keeping the beast trotting almost all the way to the village.
   The sun was receding, but the boy kept on past his hut, for he knew that Natu would not be there after such a long absence. The boy's chest swelled and his face glowed as he thought of seeing his friend and the surprised look he would get riding on an elephant. Yes, things would be very well thought little Kazar as the great gray beast lumbered along the river trail to the village.

   Joshua and JD had been on the trail for two days, the river having taken them as close as it could before going off in the opposite direction. Part of the way they had to bushwhack a new trail until they finally came across the one they sought. The going was now easier. The probability of success was the main topic. Was the boy still in the vicinity or had he left? Was he alive? If indeed he were real! But JD was convinced that it was no hoax. At any rate, he'd come this far and he was determined to see it through to the end.
   The men decided to go to the Blue Lagoon first and scout the area for some signs. Then if they found nothing they would go to the village of Bulan and attempt to enlist their aid. So the two men proceeded, trying to cover as much distance as they could before dark, at the same time passing completely unaware and unnoticed by a camp site containing a half a dozen rough looking, heavily armed men.

   Natu's search party was nearing the bottom of the first hill. They decided to push on up the next hill as far as possible before the night finally dropped. Natu's trail was bolder now. He had been staying on the ground more often. Maybe he was no longer concerned about being followed, Gallo reasoned. The boy had an objective in mind and it was obvious that he had every intention of accomplishing it. Moganu's worrying had ceased altogether. The sureness and confidence that the men read in the boy's trail made her proud. Her Natu was something else! Quite a boy! This she knew!
    As they prepared to set camp, Natu far ahead of them had eaten and was already settled in the crouch of a great tree. He was thankful for a breezy, insect free night. Out in the jungle a leopard wailed. Natu thought of Kazar and fell asleep to the night noises.

   A woman passing the front gate of the village happened to look up. There, walking leisurely toward the gate was a young bull elephant. She stared harder, thinking that maybe the fading sunlight was playing tricks on her. But when the figure of a black haired, brown skinned boy sat up, she screamed and flew down the village street, shouting, "Tembo! Tembo!" drawing a curious crowd as she went.
   Kazar had been dozing as the great beast made his way up the river trail towards the village. It was the working noise of the village that had caused him to sit up when he did. But he did not mean to frighten the woman. Presently the whole village was aroused and a score of warriors came forth to meet the intruder, arrows notched and spears bristling. They stopped short as their eyes fell upon the young bull with the gleaming tusks and the brown skin, black haired youth standing on the beast's head.
   "I am Kazar!" the boy spoke first, to let them know his intentions were friendly. "I have come to see my friend Natu."
   The crowd was a large whisper, trading comments with each other and staring wide-eyed at the boy standing atop the swaying, nervous beast.
   "We have heard of you Kazar." returned a deep voice. The crowd split in two and out emerged a tall muscular man adorned with gold and copper armbands and anklets, and a Ivory necklace about his neck. A rifle hung from his right shoulder.
   "I am Chief Bulan. This is the village of the Wazi. Natu has spoken of you Kazar. But he is not here".
   "And I have heard of you, mighty Chief Bulan. Where is Natu?"
   "He left the other day to search for you and has not returned. We believe he goes to the Blue Lagoon. A party is searching for him this minute. How is it that you are here?"
   Kazar frowned, not answering. Ahmed came forth and whispered to the Chief. Kazar sat down on the elephant's neck and started to say something but was interrupted by the Chief.
   "Ahmed here was with the search party from the beginning. They found Natu's tracks not far from his favorite fishing place and followed them to the jungle where they disappeared but lead towards the swamp. By chance they picked up his tracks again in the forest beyond..."
   The whole time that Chief Bulan was speaking, Kazar was in deep thought. Ah! Their other hiding place was near the swamp, not far from where he lay sick! Natu had passed by there! Then a feeling of something familiar crossed his mind, but he could not pinpoint it. But he was not so deeply involved that he did not miss the words, "Cobra...  Bite."
   "Cobra!" he interrupted the Chief.
   "Yes. The signs look as though Natu has been bitten by a cobra. They found his arrow in the snake, and blood..."
   "Natu!" Kazar leaped from the elephant, startling everyone. "I shall find him and bring him back!" and he spun around and raced through the village gates into the fading light of the jungle, leaving the elephant facing the tense crowd. Then suddenly, with a little squeal, the young tusker turned and trotted off after the boy.
   Kazar went straight to his hut. In his rush to grab his sling and his bow and arrows, he almost overlooked the note tacked to the door. He read it in the dim light, tucked it inside his waistband and leaped into space, swinging as swift as the wind, towards the Blue Lagoon.
  
   Safeer had been trotting steadily along when a movement to his rear caught his attention. It was coming swiftly, as noiseless as possible, but the big cat's ears picked up the sounds. He crouched, sniffing the breeze, searching for a scent. Ah ha! There it was! Safeer moved into the concealing brush and lay still. A low whine escaped his lips and his tail twitched slowly back and forth. As the silent creature came boldly on the big panther's muscles tensed as tight as coiled springs, his tail stiffened and he leaped.

CHAPTER 15 * A LITTLE BOY'S ANGER
   Kazar traveled swiftly, leaping great spaces with uncanny skill and easiness in the jungle night. Where the way was too thick dark, he would drop to the ground and continue on confidently and purposefully, his grueling pace enough to exhaust a marathon runner. Something dark rose from the shadows straight at him. The boy ducked, knife drawn, its keen blade momentarily flashing in the moonlight. But it never struck, as the huge form brushed him, knocking him to the ground. Kazar rolled away and sat up, a big grin on his face. He sheathed his knife and grabbed the big, purring panther, and hugged him and stroked his fur as only a young boy could do.
   "Safeer brother. Only you could surprise me so," he squeezed. The big cat purred loudly, rubbing his head in the boy's chest. Briefly they wrestled then Kazar, remembering, snatched up his bow, felt for his locket and started off down the trail.
   "Come!" he beckoned his brother. "Natu, our friend needs us!"
   The youth traveled most of the night, the big panther dogging his trail. Quite remarkable, for the big cats are not prone to extended marches. In the far distance an elephant trumpeted.
   Several hours before dawn Kazar finally stopped to sleep, curling up against the warm belly of the big cat. He had covered a pretty good distance in almost half of his usual time he was sure. He was determined to reach his friend to be certain that he was safe. But he also knew that his body needed to rest. So he yielded to the logical solution and slept. If Natu did indeed need help an exhausted Kazar would be of no use.

   Natu was up with the sun. His heart beat faster for he was nearing Kazar's cave. He was sure that the boy was there. Where else could he be? But why did he to return to the hut first, like his note said? That, he reasoned, he would find out when they talked.
   The still waters of the Blue Lagoon resembled a sheet of glass, its surface strongly reflecting the new sun. Natu did not bother to stop there as he was sometimes prone to do, but went straight for the cave. As he neared it he climbed into a tree and proceeded slowly and cautiously as Kazar had taught him, lest he wind up in the claws of a very protective L'Naura. Safeer was the only one of the cats who had accepted him. Natu did not wish to be a meal for his best friend's mother!
   Listening and peering, Natu heard every sound, studied every bush, tree, and clumps of grass for any telltale sign of a spotted cat. Finding none he moved closer and softly called, "Kazar!" He repeated himself a couple of times then finally shouted out loud, "Kazar!"
   His only reply was the sound of a nearby rifle shot, shortly followed by another and a scream of pain. He went to investigate, thinking that it was his father, searching for him. But no, it could not be! No one from the village could have reached here before him. It had to be someone else! But who?
   As he was leaving, there came a third shot and a big spotted leopard bounded into view, and paused at the den's entrance. Natu recognized it to be L'Naura, the mother of Kazar. She glanced over her shoulder and snarled. Three half-grown cubs burst from the brush behind her and scrambled into the cave. L'Naura paced back and forth snarling loudly, then entered behind them.
   Someone was shooting at the leopard family! Kazar? The thought goaded Natu into action. Circling the cave he headed straight towards the direction of the shots. As he approached he heard voices. Rough unfamiliar voices. Instinctively the boy slowed down and descended to the lower branches to obtain a clear view. Here he was not so lucky for the foliage was very thick. The jumble of voices was loud and abusive. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of someone moving. Natu knew from what he was hearing that he did not wish to be seen by these men. But he had to find out if Kazar was, for some reason, among them. Hurt maybe...
   Natu retreated several yards and dropped to the ground and began his stalk through the underbrush towards the men. Natu was just as skillful as Kazar when it came to the art of stealth. Maybe too careful, for in his intentions not to be discovered by the known danger, he failed to note the unseen peril. As the boy got his first real glimpse of these men he eased his way to a small tree for the added protection it would afford. And as he did, he stepped on a slim creeper running across the ground. Ordinary at first glance, but when his full weight fell upon it, it moved swiftly. Natu knew, even before he felt the noose tighten around his ankle and his body jerked upwards to dangle upside down, that it was a cleverly laid snare. His bow and arrows fell from his quiver as he hung there, partly dazed, watching them scattered beneath him.
   The numbness in his leg, and the sounds of approaching bodies brought him back to the business at hand. Pulling his knife, he pulled his limber body up and started slicing on the taunt creeper. Finally the vine parted and Natu dropped to the ground. Before he could gain his feet, a rough, hairy hand grabbed his face, while a huge arm encircled his waist.
   "Well looky here!" a coarse voice boomed.
   An icy chill shot down the boy's spine and he was spun around to face the meanest group of men he knew he had ever seen.
   "I think we've found our Leopard boy!"

   Joshua and JD were scouting around the Lagoon when they heard the gun shots. They looked at each other in agreement. The other men they had heard of!
   "How far you figure Joshua?"
   "Mile. Maybe two. Considering the way sound carries around here. But it may be closer than we think."
   "Well, we've got to go anyway, so let's git!"
   Both men checked their rifles and made sure they were loaded and started around the long lagoon. JD's eyes were narrow slits, his jaws were set hard as they trotted towards the sounds.

   Brother Ragal and his group had started with the rising sun. Their pace was swifter than ever and their expectations high as they trotted along, knowing they were nearing their destination. Moganu's spirits were highest. She began to sing, and presently the rest of the party joined in. So involved were they that they failed to hear the gunshots in the distance that would have concerned them greatly.

   Kazar heard, and recognized the sounds as gunshots. On occasion he and Natu had followed Brother Ragal and some of the warriors on their hunting trips. The loud noise impressed him. But most impressive was the great distance from which the guns killed with deadly effect. Yes, he knew the sound of the gun. And to him it meant only one thing. Death! But who? L'Naura? Natu? And who was shooting? He had long since passed Natu's parents. In hindsight he wondered if he should have stopped to talk to them. But since they were headed in the same direction it did not seem to matter. Delay would not help his friend if he needed it. So Kazar sped on, urged by his friend's fresh spoor and the echoing gunshots, while the big panther loped swiftly and silently along the ground.

   JD and Joshua were examining the ground around the snare. They were convinced that it was the other search party they heard was also searching for the Kazar-Cowhini. Especially when they saw the tracks of a young boy and then the two dead leopards a hundred yards away. A live goat was tethered nearby. From the jumble of footprints they judged that there were at least six men in the party.
   "Well, looks like Chief Bulan's village is out for now," JD sighed and cut the goat loose.
   "Yes," agreed Joshua. "It looks as though they have the boy. Or...  A boy."
   JD shot a quizzical look at his companion.
   "I know what you're thinking," Joshua continued. "But did you consider the possibility that it might not be the leopard boy? Very slim chance, but worth considering. What we do know is that they have a boy out there?"
   "I guess you're right Joshua. We'll never find out though, standing here gabbin'. Come on, the tracks go that way."

   Natu sat on the opposite side of the fire glaring at his captors. His hands and feet were tied with a rope, which he feverishly tried to wiggle free of, between glances at two of the men who periodically glanced at him to make sure that he was still secure. One man's arm was being bandaged, while two of the others were arguing quite loudly, occasionally pointing to the tied youth.
   "Damn it! That kid ain't the Leopard boy!" shrieked the tall thin man wearing a straw cowboy hat.
   "And I tell you he is!" roared the big, burly one who had grabbed Natu. "Then how come he was runnin' 'round here at the Lagoon, near them cats we killed?
   "Dang it, I don't know! But I do know he ain't no Leopard boy! Cy, your head's so damn thick, an idea would beat itself to death trying to git in!"
   "And what makes you so all-fired smart, Slim? Huh', Mr. Brains, tell us!"
   "Yeah," spoke up one of the others, strolling over to join them. "Look like he lives here to me. Little kid, ten, twelve years old. Ain't seen no other kid truckin' 'round here the past few days."
   "Listen," said Slim. "'Member all them stories we heard? Well, that leopard boy is supposed to have long black hair and a locket. A silver locket 'round his damn neck. And that!" he pointed to Natu, "He ain't got!"
   "Well," offered Powell, rubbing his stubble. "You know how facts get sorta distorted here. And if'en he ain't then who the hell is he? An' what's he doing here?"
   Slim's eyes lit up. "Maybe," he drawled, "Maybe he knows this leopard boy."
   Everyone seemed to like that suggestion.
   "Well," growled Cy. "There's only one damn way to find out," and he started towards Natu who sensed no good fortune from this brute of a man approaching him. Cy towered over the boy, his huge, hairy hands on his big barrel waist.
   "Now listen here, young'un," he tried to talk as soft and soothing as possible, but it still came out as a threatening growl to Natu. "Who are you?"
   Natu remained silent. The man fingered the big knife on his belt. Natu eyed him apprehensively but remained silent.
   Slim bent down to the boy and half-whispered into his ear. "Now listen here you little black boy, tell the big man what he wants ta know. We ain't gonna hurt you none. Lest you don't quit being so uppity an' speak to us," he snarled.
   He grabbed the boy's face and squeezed it briefly. Natu's eyes narrowed and he pulled away and spit defiantly into Slim's eyes.
   "Dog!" Natu snapped.
   Slim scowled and wiped his face amid the heckling laughter of his companions. Then turning to the boy, who instinctively drew back, he raised his hand and sang.
   "Well, well. He talks!" Slim snarled and then slapped him. "Now that weren't nice, you spitting on old Uncle Slim that-a-way. I was gonna be your friend boy. We was gonna be pals," he cooed as his hand snaked slowly towards the boy's throat, an act that was never completed, for several things happened in the twinkling of an eye.
   Two arrows, swift and silent, buried themselves deep into Slim's chest. The ear-shattering scream of a leopard split the air, and the dark form of Safeer the panther leaped full into the face of Cy. A rain of arrows fell into the remainder of the party. Two men were killed almost instantly, another was seriously wounded, and a very frightened bearer fled into the jungle, screaming hysterically.
   Two swift bites ripped away Cy's face and Safeer dropped the lifeless form and leaped to the wounded man who was firing wildly into the jungle. Natu rolled himself towards the jungle as the panther smacked the man with a blow that could be heard for a hundred yards. He then leaped protectively to the side of the bounded youth, glaring, snarling. A black-haired boy dropped lightly to the ground beside them, a knife in his hand.

   When Kazar reached his den he called to his mother, as was customary in his long absences. She greeted him nervously and the boy stroked her fine coat. When he saw only three cubs, an angry look came over him as he recalled the gunshots. And what of Natu? Quickly, he hugged his great spotted mother and left. He immediately picked up Natu's spoor.
   The cut snare rope told the story and he locked it in his memory. The bodies of the two cubs triggered an anger within that he had never known. Another scent came to him also, which momentarily distracted him. Somehow vaguely familiar, but it was dismissed as the youth heard the loud sounds of people ahead.
   He slowed his pace as he approached and circled to the right before dropping to the ground. Men! Strange men! Who were they? Then amongst them he saw Natu with his hands and feet bound. So shocked was he that he almost cried out. Safeer brushed the boy's side. Kazar whispered into the great cat's ear then moved silently and swiftly around the camp in the protective foliage, then climbed into a tree quite close to the gathered men.
   He saw Natu spit into Slim's face and the man slap him in return. A deep menacing growl rumbled from the boy's throat as he withdrew several arrows from his quiver and notched one. The growl intensified when he saw the man's hand reaching for his friend's throat. No longer was this a smiling little boy, but a very savage and deadly creature, whose only intention was to kill to protect what was his.
  Just as Slim's hand was about to reach Natu's throat Kazar released his silent messengers of death in quick secession, and Safeer leaped into view. The fracas lasted only a few seconds and Kazar dropped beside his friend, glaring and snarling at the bodies around them.
   "Natu!" he turned to his friend and severed his bonds. "Natu my friend. Are you well?"
   "I am now! I knew that it was you! Where have you been? I have searched..."
   "I will explain later Natu. It is a long story. First, let us go to your parents. I passed them on the way," he stated. Sheathing his knife and withdrawing his arrows from the dead men he wiped them clean and placed them inside his quiver. Natu rubbed his wrists and retrieved his own weapons.
   "One of them fled to the jungle."
   Kazar glared across the camp in the general direction. "If he returns, I will kill him!" and he placed an arm about Natu's shoulder.
   "Jambo!" the two smiled, grasping each other by the shoulders.
   "Jambo!" they departed the camp.

   The wounded man that had been smacked by Safeer, stirred with a moan. His face was twisted in great pain as he slowly removed his revolver and cocked the hammer. His shirt was a bloody mess as was the ground beneath him, stained crimson by his life's supporting fluids draining from him. His fall had broken the arrow shaft and shoved it further into him, aggravating his misery. It was because of this that Kazar had passed him up, the broken arrow being of no use to him. Coble gasped and choked, breathing hard as he extended his gun arm at the two retreating boys he could barely make out through his blurred vision.
   "Damn Kids!" he swore softly and squeezed the trigger.

   It was upon this scene that JD and Joshua arrived. Coble squeezing the trigger. In a glance, JD saw the target and raised his rifle and fired almost at the same instance the dying man did. Cable's body jerked violently at the impact of the .45-70 bullet. Kazar flinched, grabbing his head and stumbled into Natu, who grabbed him and threw an arm about his waist.
   "My God! No!" exclaimed JD as he started into the campsite. "KEVIN!"
   The two boy's stopped long enough to shoot a quick glance over their shoulders at the approaching figures, noted that they had guns, and then quickly disappeared into the jungle.
   The two men rushed to the spot where the boys and the panther had slipped from view and found only faint leopard's tracks. JD drew a long labored breath and rubbed his forehead, shaking his head in misery.
   "NO! NO! NO!" he beat his palm with a fist. "Joshua!  It was him! It was Kevin! I just know it! Did you see the locket? I'd know that locket anywhere! So close damn it. So damn close and now he's just vanished!"
   Joshua stood silently watching his distressed companion. He knew that there was nothing he could say at that moment that would comfort the man, so he kept silent. Presently JD came around and the two of them went about inspecting the bodies of the dead men. At Coble's corpse, JD lingered and placed the muzzle of this rifle into the man's ear. Joshua read his cold stare.
   "He's already dead," Joshua whispered. "But out there is a young boy. Two young boys. One of them probably hurt."
   JD forced a weak apologetic smile, slapped his companion on the back and started off.
   "Yep. It may not be too late huh?" the men disappeared into the jungle following Safeer's broken trail.

CHAPTER 16 * AND HE WAS GONE
   There were two boys out there. But neither was seriously hurt. Coble's bullet had only grazed the side of Kazar's head, nicking the top of his ear in the process. Other than that, he was fine. He had found his friend and there was no need to linger, though the other two men who had appeared caused Kazar some wonder. The taller man in particular. And the word "Kevin!" It rang a familiar bell somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind. But removing his friend out of harm's way was his first priority and so he pressed on. When they finally dropped to the ground they stood panting and collecting themselves. The Natu told his friend of all that had taken place since the rains. Kazar in turn told him of the events that had befallen him during his absence. The incident with the elephant convinced the two that fate had indeed played a cruel trick on them. But when the conversation came to Natu's captors both were somewhat puzzled. What Natu did know was that they sought Kazar. And that they did not seem to have good intentions. But why, he did not know, nor did the boys dwell upon it for long, typical of youngsters their age.
   But who were the two other men? They were not with the others they were sure. Kazar fingered his locket, his brows wrinkled in deep thought as they walked. Natu was about to speak when a loud familiar, "Natu! Natu!" interrupted the jungle noises.
   It was Moganu racing towards him with her arms outspread. Natu's handsome face lit up with the biggest and brightest smile ever and he raced to his mother and buried himself in her strong but tender embrace. Kazar stood silently, smiling and pleased. He stroked the ear of the great panther while the excited search party surrounded the young Wazi boy and bombarded him with many questions.
   Natu managed to push his way through the tangle and pointed to the bronze skinned black haired boy clad in a leopard skin loincloth and wearing a silver locket, stroking the head of the largest panther any of them had ever seen.
   "Kazar," Natu stated and strolled over and stood beside his friend. He faced the awed crowd, stroked the head of the big cat and placed a hand on his companion's shoulder.
   "This is my friend, Kazar," he beamed proudly. "And this is his brother, Safeer."
  Brother Ragal was the first to speak. "Kazar?" he started towards the boy, his eyes mostly upon the cat. Kazar flashed one of his quick smiles and flicked Safeer on the ear. The cat wheeled about and trotted off into the jungle and took up a position on a low hanging branch.
   "He does not like many people," the boy stated. "But he would not harm you unless I tell him too."
   "Well, let's hope that won't be necessary," Ragal exhaled a sigh of relief . He stood before the boy studying his features and staring at the locket. Then he extended his hand and introduced himself. Kazar took the hand, sniffing it and the cuff of his shirt. He looked into the man's eyes and stated, "Natu says that you are a good man. I feel that he is right."
   Brother Ragal accepted the compliment with a nod and half turned towards the rest of the searchers and pointed them out as he called their names. He beckoned them to approach. As they did so, Kazar singled out Moganu and stood before her searching and thinking deeply. Finally he spoke to her. "You are Natu's mother. I feel warmth and security in you. Natu is very lucky to have you. My mother L'Naura is the only mother I know. The woman in the picture is my mother also but I do not know where she is," he bowed his head. His lips quivered and his body trembled involuntarily as feelings he had not known and was at a loss to explain began to surface. Moganu placed a consoling hand upon his head and ran it down to his chin and lifted it with a finger. You are a very brave boy and a brother to my Natu. You will always be welcome in our house."
   She spread her arms and both boys nestled themselves under them and against her warm loving body.
   Finding a comfortable spot, the boys plopped down and eagerly narrated their adventures to the equally eager and excited group. All the while Brother Ragal was intently studying the features of dark-haired boy and gazing at the silver locket. When he suggested that they should go back to the camp of the intruders to check for survivors and the other two men, he was met with a growl that made his blood chill in disbelief when he realized that it was coming from the boy.
   "The jungle will take care of them!" his voice was low and icy.
   Ragal explained to the boy that they had a moral obligation, which he did not understand, to do so. Especially so that they might try and determine who these intruders were and why they were searching for him. Natu assured him that this was the way things were done among men. And that they were now safe under the protection of the mighty Wazi.
   Gallo reminded them that they had a long journey home and suggested that they should make camp for the night and get a fresh start in the morning. Kazar eagerly offered to show them a safe place, explaining that this was the territory of his mother, and that she sometimes took offense at intruders. So they agreed and followed the two youths to a place near the Blue Lagoon where they were assured that they would not be molested.
   While some of the party prepared camp, Brother Ragal engaged Kazar in a conversation about his early life and his meeting of Natu. Kazar was elated at being the center of attention and surrounded by beings like himself. He started from as far back as he could remember and told all. Anxious ears were very impressed with his tale and his vocabulary in Wazi, Swahili, and English. Natu had tutored him well.
   A shifting breeze caused the boy to jump up, grabbing the hilt of his knife and startling his audience. Safeer growled from his perch.
   "Someone comes there," he pointed.
   They looked but saw nothing. Natu stood also his nostrils flared.
   "How do you know this?" asked Gallo, and was even more startled by the boys' reply.
   "Their scent! Now I hear them. It is the other men!"
   The warriors stared quizzically at each other with a shrug. Kazar tapped Natu on the shoulder. "Tell them!"
   Natu listened. "Yes," he shook his head affirmatively. "The two men are coming from there," he pointed and unsheathed his knife.
   Brother Ragal was about to protest, for he felt they were being toyed with by the two sharp youths. But a greeting from just beyond the shrubbery stopped him cold.
   "Jambo!" two men stepped into view. "We're friends."
   Kazar growled, brandishing his knife and touching his injured earl with his other hand. He advanced menacingly towards them.
   "Wait Kazar," Moganu placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. She shot a glance at Rama and Gallo. The men rose clutching their weapons.
   "Let's see who they are and what they want first." Rama stepped forward, his bow at the ready. The boy relaxed slightly, but did not sheath his blade.
   "Come on in, "Regal beckoned, his thumb in the strap of the rifle sling. The rest of the Warriors had retrieved their spears and were leaning on them, keenly regarding the approaching men.
   As the men neared, Brother Ragal's eyes opened wide and his mouth dropped in disbelief.
   "My God!" he made the sign of the cross. "It's true! I... I don't believe it! Is it...?
   JD came to a stunned halt, a similar expression on his face. And then as though waking from a trance! "That voice!" he snapped. "I know that voice! It's haunted me for years!"
   Joshua eyed the men evenly, waiting. Finally, with a sigh, "Well damn it, Gordon, say something!"
   JD's reaction was electric! "You knew?" he glared at him. "You knew all the time! How... Who are you?"
   "I'll explain later. You know this man?" he nodded towards Brother Ragal who was briskly approaching him with extended arms.
   "Gordon! Gordon Edwards! My God, my God! It's really you! Brother Ragal! South Africa! Remember?"
   The two men embraced briefly.
   "Yes! Yes! I do! That was sometime ago!"
   "Over ten years! But you were assumed dead! You! Your wife! And your... son..."  his voice trailed off and he turned towards the boys. "What... where... Where is he? Natu?" Everyone looked around. Both boys had disappeared.
   "Natu!" called Moganu. "Natu! Kazar!
   "Kazar?" Gordon asked excitedly. "The leopard boy called the Kazar-Cowhini? You've seen him?"
   "He was just here! He and Natu, Moganu's son!" Ragal snapped his fingers, pointing to the man, who nodded affirmatively.
   "Yes Brother. I believe that boy might be Kevin. You don't know how hard it's been all these years. Like a never-ending nightmare. As far as the rest of world knows, I'm still dead. It wasn't until about two years or so ago that I began to hear rumors of a boy living in the Congo jungles and running with leopards. Far away places have their legends. Like we've got Bigfoot where I come from. So I dismissed it as just another "Tarzan" story. But every now and then, I'd hear the same tale over in more convincing tones. It wasn't until recently when a lot of focus was on the locket that I became interested. I started checking for the origins and locations of the tales. That was the biggest long shot, but for some reason it persisted in haunting me. It was a direct link to the boy. Could he have survived or did someone else find the locket. Or...  So I finally decided to take the gamble."
   "But the plane crash? There was no mention of survivors or...
   "Oh," continued Edwards. "Flamingoes. The plane crashed because of a flock of flamingoes. I must've been out for a day or two. The pilot and my wife were dead. I think I passed out again. I was pretty battered. When I finally came too, I searched for the boy, but didn't find a trace. There were animal tracks all around but I couldn't make and sense of them. And I didn't see any human footprints so I assumed the worst. Then I remembered that we had wrapped Kevin up in several blankets to cushion his impact. And I didn't see any blood trails leading from the wreckage. Only our puddle of blood inside.
   So I buried Patricia and Jock and left my wife's earrings tied on the cross over her grave. For what reason, I don't know," he fingered them. "But then I went back and retrieved them," he placed them back in his pocket.
   "I searched the plane for what equipment I could find to help me survive. My body ached something terrible. I found the pilot's revolver and some spare ammo, along with a knife and compass, and some food. I also took the flight maps. They proved to be my biggest help. I camped at the crash site for a week I guess, keeping a huge fire going day and night, in the hopes of search planes spotting it. I made circular forays from camp hoping I'd come across a clue of Kevin's fate. He just disappeared! I was really on the verge of checking out man.
   "After exhausting the provisions I'd found, I decided no one was coming, or they were searching in the wrong direction. So I started walking. For days that seemed like months I hacked my way along. I caught some kinda fever and passed out. When I awoke I was in a grass bed in a native village. A small tribe of cattle herders called the Padaba. I must have been there a month while they nursed me back to health. With their help I was able to reach a larger outpost and from there on to Nairobi.
   "I telegraphed my brother under a fictitious name, telling him that I had information about my disappearance, but that he must come himself, and alone."
   "And he did? Just like that?"
   "Yes. I included something in the gram that only he and I know. You know, childhood secret. He was quite shocked to see me alive. And glad too! But rather upset about Patricia and Kevin."
   Edwards explained how he swore his brother to secrecy, let him take over the Art Company and Estate, but not claim the Insurance because of possible legal problems that would arise should he be found out. And he assumed the name of JD Preston and received living allowances from his brother David, while he secluded himself in his self-pity and misery. The continuous rumors of the jungle boy were what brought him out of his exile, so here he was. But he admitted he had to weigh those tales also as embellishments coming from war torn nations embroiled in civil unrest, as was the Congo and other regions. Just like Cambodia and Vietnam was bickering with each other and the French who were still trying to maintain a colonial hold in Asia. Not to mention the ever-rising racial conflicts in South Africa.
   "There's some truth in fiction, and a lot of fiction can come from a little bit of truth!" Gordon summed it up.
   Gordon related the events that had just recently passed when he first saw the boy. He wondered why the boy had left.
   "He thinks you shot him, I believe," Ragal informed him. "Considering what you told me, it was an easy mistake. I really don't think he's gone far. He's a pretty sharp boy."
   "I can feel it Brother. I really believe it's Kevin!"
   "I think so myself. Even without the locket. Just a gut feeling I got from talking with him. And Natu mentioning that he sometimes spoke in a strange tongue. Usually during a troubled sleep."
   "Spanish?" Gordon inquired.
   "Yes, I'm sure of it. And I do remember that your wife is Mexican?"
   "Yeah. God I miss her!" Edwards sighed heavily. "She'd be really proud to know that his past is speaking to him too. He must be pretty confused about everything right now," he sighed.
   "Well, Natu is out there with him, so I'm sure we'll get some answers. We'll just have to be patient."
   "Ah! Home cooking!" Joshua patted his stomach, accepting his bowl. "Thank you," he smiled at Moganu, making her blush.
   "There is plenty. Eat well. You men have had a rough time of it."
   "Lady, you don't know the half of it," Joshua dug onto the meaty stew. "My, my, my! Just like Mama makes it!"
   "That reminds me," Edwards spun on Joshua, noting the change in his accent. "I believe you've got something to tell me Josh? You got mighty southern all of a sudden. Or is that an alias, buddy?"
   Before the man could answer Natu dropped into sight, opposite the fire, startling them.
   "Natu!" his mother half-scolded. "Where have you been? Why are you always disappearing like a little monkey? And where is your friend, Kazar?"
   The boy pointed over his head. Everyone looked up. There was a slight rustle, and Kazar dropped down beside Natu.
   Gordon Edwards froze, then half rose. Brother Ragal cautioned him with a hand gesture, for the boy was very suspicious of him. All eyes went from the little black haired boy to the tall Edwards as they both stood silently regarding each other.
   Kazar fingered his locket, his brows wrinkled in deep thought as he tried desperately to grasp that fleeting link.
   "Kevin?" the man spoke softly. "Chamaco?"
   Kazar's head began to spin. His mind whirled and he saw flamingoes and gnu, and elephants, and zebra running through clouds of dust. He saw the ground rapidly spinning and rushing up to meet him! He saw large branches reach out around him and heard the giant branches snap and crack about him. And he heard frantic voices, crying, and a scream.
   "Madre de Dios! Mi nino! No!" followed by a long agonizing wail. "Ayuda me! Kevin! Kevin!"
   Kevin? There was something about that word, Kevin. A face flashed across his mind. This time it lingered. He opened his locket and studied the two faces within, glancing up at Edwards and back at the photos. Turning the locket over he read the inscription to himself.
   "A mi nino..."
   "Love always. Mom and Dad," Edwards spoke, startling the youth.
   A strange feeling engulfed the boy and surged rapidly through his body. A lump swelled in his throat as a moist drop ran from the corner of one eye down one sun brown cheek. Gordon Edwards took a step forward, his arms outstretched slightly.
   "Siempre nino."
   Kazar approached the man slowly, one hand still clutching his precious locket. He halted in front of Edwards and searched his face long and intently. That strange feeling racing through him intensified. His body tingled excitedly. Something within was tugging and urging and hollering at him. His lips trembled but no sound emitted. Instead, he reached out and clutched the man tightly in his strong, little brown arms and his now swollen eyes unleashed a torrent of tears as he poured out all of the love that had been bottled up in his little heart for so many years.
   Gordon Edwards clutched his young son very long and tenderly, caressing his back, shoulders, and satin black hair, and kissed him on the top of his head.
   "Mi hijo. My son, my son! My God I've found you. It's alright now. It's over now," he choked, his own face streaked and soaked with his own tears.
   Moganu hugged her Natu, while the others looked on in approving silence at the long overdue reunion.
   Brother Ragal glanced up at the heavens, winked, and gave a thumbs up gesture with his right hand. "Thank you, Big Guy," he crossed himself with the Sign Of The Cross.

   The moon shinned its brightest on a very joyous party that night. There was singing and dancing and clapping and laughter, and plenty of food and talk. And of the latter, there was the most, which proved very interesting indeed. Particularly Joshua's story.
   Joshua it turned out was really an adventurer-journalist name Mike Johnson. It was only by accident that he had discovered that Gordon Edwards was alive. His curiosity led him to keep the man under surveillance for he wondered why the man had kept his survival a secret. And when he almost prematurely exposed him, stories of young Kevin began to surface. Edwards's interest in those tales caused his continued silence and undivided attention. And when the man went back to the Dark Continent, Johnson knew that he had come upon something big.
   Having had some bush experience before, he decided on a bold plan. With some skillful maneuvering he enlisted the aid of some reliable resources to help him pose as a Guide and have himself recommended to Edwards as a reliable companion to accompany him. Money talks!
   "This is our part of the story, Gordon," he handed the man the little black book that he had guarded so closely. "And he's the rest," he pointed to Kevin.
   Edwards smiled reflectively. "I remember when I first saw you writing in this. It puzzled me to no end. And it seemed that every time I meant to bring up the matter something always happened to distract us. And even long before that, I had my suspicious about you being just a native guide. You just seemed too savvy. You really had me going Joshua. I mean Micheal," he laughed.
   "Mike," Johnson laughed. "Only my Mom calls me Micheal. And usually I'm in for it when she does," he winked. Eyeing the book he offered, "Maybe you'd like to keep that?"
   Gordon looked puzzled. "But your story? You..."
   "This is a story I could never forget, Gordon. It's all up here," he tapped his head. "Besides. I'm not so sure that the world is ready for it yet. Or the boy is ready for the world. He'll have adjustments to make, remember? And people will demand and attempt to make a spectacle of him and exploit him. You don't want that. It may be better for awhile at least, for the both of you, that the Kazar-Cowhini remains a legend," and he winked at the youth who flashed him one of his warm smiles and elbowed Natu.
   The warm flickering light of the night fires danced upon the sun browned figure of a very happy and content Kevin Miguel Edwards curled up next to his father, sleeping without a want or care in the world for the first time in many, many long years.
   Natu and Kazar were the first to awake. The sounds of their laughter and splashing in the Lagoon waters aroused the others. Breakfast was light, everyone full from the past night's feast. They were ready to leave within an hour.
   When asked of his immediate plans, Edwards admitted that he did not know right off. Brother Ragal offered him and Johnson the hospitality of the village, and the men accepted. Edwards conceded that he could use a vacation before making any major decisions. The two boys could not have been happier, shrieking their delight to the whole world. In the distance an elephant trumpeted, its voice muffled by the jungle noises.
   As the group passed near L'Naura's cave Kazar halted and asked them to wait. He trotted to the entrance of the cave and called. Three half-grown cubs emerged and bowled him over, enthusiastically pawing and mauling him. They wrestled each other briefly until L'Naura appeared. She growled her discontentment at the strong, strange man-scent around her den and on her adopted cub. She glared at the search party and further growled her displeasure. The boy hugged the big cat and stroked her head. She relaxed slightly and purred loudly as he stroked her behind the ears the way she liked, talking to her softly, sincerely.
    What seemed like forever lasted only a few minutes. Rising, Kazar looked to his father, Natu and the others, the big spotted cat standing beside him, the three cubs, and the jungle around him and the cave. Many thoughts raced through his head and his expression conveyed mixture of confusion and anxiety. Silently, his head bowed, he walked inside.
   Brother Ragal rolled his head in Edwards direction and the man shrugged his shoulders.
    "I've got to let him make his own choice Brother. This is very difficult for me, but I can't interfere. I've been tryin' to prepare myself for this last night while he slept, cause I knew that it might come to this. This has been his home for ten years and those cats are the only family he's really known. I just can't snatch him away without..."
   "Look," interrupted Natu, pointing.
   Kazar was emerging from the cave with L'Naura at his side. He stroked the big cat once more then started towards his father and the waiting party. Half way between them he paused and glanced back at the great spotted cat who had been the only mother he had known well. A half smile flickered across his face as he turned away.
   "Well son. Are you ready to go?" Edwards addressed the approaching youth.
   Kazar halted just beyond the man's hand. He studied his face and casually eyed the rest. Natu stepped forward. Kazar placed a hand on his shoulder but said nothing. Edwards was about to speak when his son started.
   "Poppi? Fa-ther. I... I think that I... I love you. For many years I have searched for someone, but I was not sure who or why. It must be you for I feel different. Content. But this has been my home for many years," he waved with one hand, "All of its creatures have been my friends and enemies. I know them well. This place you live? America? Is it far away?"
   "Yes son. Very far away. Across this continent and across a great ocean of water. But I think that you'll like it."
   Kazar looked to Natu, a frown forming. "Then I would not see Natu again?"
   Gordon bowed his head knowingly.
   Kazar folded his arms across his chest. His head slumped slightly and he took a deep breath and exhaled through his nostrils. Lifting his head he faced Natu and placed both hands on the boy's shoulders.
   "Natu my friend. Brother. You have taught me much and you have taught well. I am grateful. I shall see you soon."
   Natu smiled. "We have shared much that cannot be so easily forgotten my brother."
   Kazar turned to his father, fingered the silver locket, and then embraced the man briefly.
   "I... I... I love you father," and he gently pulled away.
   Edwards trembled involuntarily as he released the dark-haired youth. A lump came to his throat, but he did not speak.
   "Do not worry father. I was raised here. I... I want to be with you, but I need time."
   Edwards nodded through watery eyes as the whole purpose of his entire life turned and trotted off a few feet then disappeared into the dense foliage of the treetops above. A deafening silence fell upon the surrounding jungle as the party gathered around to offer what comfort and support they could to the sunken man who sank to his knees with his head buried in his hands.
  
   It was a very subdued and solemn group indeed that finally started out from the Blue Lagoon while from above, a little black-haired boy watched through sad brown eyes, while tears rolled down his brown cheeks. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists tightly and grit his teeth. A beautiful dark-haired woman spoke to him. Soft and soothing, her gentle fingers caressed his body.
   "Kevin," rose the firm reassuring voice of his father. He felt secure. Then suddenly it was dark! Lions roared, leopards screamed, baboons and monkeys howled, and the rains fell heavily. Kazar shivered. The hot sun burned his skin, the insects stung and bruised him, and his stomach ached from hunger and spoiled meat. He felt the soft, warm coat of L'Naura, heard her purring, and then there was a silence. He was alone!
   Kazar stood upon his swaying perch and surveyed the surrounding jungle. He raised his head skyward, his mouth open, but no sound came forth. Peering down the trail through the interlaced greenery he saw the last member of the search party disappearing from view. Silently and purposefully young Kevin Edwards dropped lightly to the ground and trotted swiftly after them.
   And L'Naura, whatever emotions she had, if that could be said, did not show as she eyed the departing boy briefly then turned her attention to her remaining cubs, cuffing the nearest one playfully. She would provide, protect, and teach them as she had done for the boy Kazar, until he was old enough to leave her.
   Now that time had come, and he was gone.         

                                                                                The End

Origin of "The Leopard's Cub":
   I began this story in 1963 during my Junior Year at Mackin Catholic High School. It originally started out as an illustrated comic book. I believe I became frustrated with all of the drawings required and my difficulty in adequately capturing the human physic in those drawings so I dropped it and started the text version. Then I ran into the obvious problem of it sounding too much like all the jungle movies and books I had seen and read! Edgar Rice Burroughs, make no mistake about it, was one of my favorite authors at the time. But I needed something original.
   After returning from the military in 1969 I toyed with it for a frustrated spell. Then in April 1979 while I was working the night dispatch shift I sat down and re-read what I had done and knew I had to finish it. Only this time my approach would be to present it like a movie I would want to see. I put the paper in the typewriter and finished the story on 7 May 1979! A search through my original manuscript drafts revealed that I re-wrote the ending twice. Once on 8 July 1979 and the final time on 14 August 1979. I copyrighted the work on 9 October 1979 and began publishing preparations.
   In 1979 I made about 300 handmade hardback copies and sold them all for $15.oo each! The following year I came out with a paperback edition but after 100 copies I pulled them because I had only reduced the original typewriter text and it made for very eye-straining reading. But I did get an endorsement from Big Jim Pierce, ex-movie Tarzan of 1927, whom I had met once while in the Navy in the 1960s. We corresponded over the years and I sent him one of the first paperback copies and he wrote to tell me how much he enjoyed it. He was the husband of Joan Burroughs, the daughter of Tarzan's creator, Edgar Rice Burroughs.
   Many times over the years I had attempted to enlarge the print and produce another paperback version but other endeavors like motorcycling, hunting, trucking, and my music seemed to get in the way. Finally in 2002 I decided that I had to get the story back into print one last time. As well as finally getting the two sequels into print. I wrote "What The Jungle Saw" in about week, almost a year after the original. "Deadly Vengeance" was written in the late 1980s. It also took about a week. I again used my "movie vision" to create two equally fast paced adventures involving poachers, revenge, bloody coups, and family bonding. I hope to have them ready by the fall of 2006.
   It was with the utmost restraint that I did not re-write The Leopard's Cub. One voice said that now my writing maturity warranted it and the other voice compelled me to preserve the originality of my youthful imagination. So I compromised and corrected the spelling, grammar, sentence structures, and added some background information on some of the characters in a couple of places.
   I'd like to thank Brother David Warneke, my Senior Year English Teacher for encouraging my writing, even though he shuddered at my overuse of Edgar Rice Burroughs' "mile-long" sentences! Ha! And to Richard Lyons, a well-known Science Fiction author that I had the pleasure of relocating to New Jersey when I was a driver for Newlon's Transfer back in the 1980s. He read it and gave me an honest in-your-face page by page critique of The Leopard's Cub. I still have that critique and occasionally pull it out to re-read. It's a good yardstick and has helped me a lot with my later writings. I haven't heard from Richard in years but I'd like to think that he knows I learned something along the way.
   The Leopard's Cub. A fast paced action adventure like no other! I hope you enjoyed it!

                                                                                                         Mike Johnson, 13 August 2005

 The paperback edition of “The Leopard’s Cub” #13MAJ004 is available for $14.49 from
MAJJ Productions, P.O. Box 100933, Arlington, Va. 22210

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