Henderson the Rain King - Saul Bellow [141]
them?" I asked the king. "I have said to the Bunam I would accomplish my purpose notwithstanding." "You should give them each a kick in the tail," I said, scowling at the two guys. "Come, Henderson, my friend," Dahfu said, and we began to walk. The three men with spears fell in behind us. "What are these fellows for?" "To help maneuver in the hopo," he said. "You will see when we come to the small end of the place. That is better than explanation." As we went down into the high grass of the bush he raised his sloping face with the smooth low-bridged nose and scented the air. I breathed it in, too. Dry and fine, it had an odor like fermented sugar. I began to be aware of the tremble of insects as they played their instruments underneath the stems, down at the very base of the heat. The king began to go quickly, not so much walking as bounding, and as we followed, the spearmen and I, it occurred to me that the grass was high enough to conceal almost any animal except an elephant and that I didn't have so much as a diaper pin to defend myself with. "King," I said. "Hisst. Wait a minute." I couldn't raise my voice here; I sensed that this was not the time to make a noise. He probably didn't like this, for he wouldn't stop, but I kept on calling in low tones and finally he waited for me. Greatly worked up, I stared into his eyes at close range, fought a few moments for air, and then said, "Not even a weapon? Just like this? Are you supposed to catch this animal by the tail?" He decided to be patient with me. I could see the decision being taken. This I would swear to. "The animal, and I hope it is Gmilo, is probably within the area of the hopo. See here, Henderson, I must not be armed. What if I were to wound Gmilo?" He spoke of this possibility with horror. I had failed before (what was the matter with me?) to observe how profoundly excited he was. I had not seen through his cordiality. "What if?" "My life would be required as for any harm to a living king." "And what about me--I'm not supposed to defend myself either?" He did not answer for a moment. Then he said, "You are with me." There was nothing I could say after that. I decided that I would do the best I could with my helmet, which would be to strike the animal on the muzzle and confuse it. I grumbled that he would have been better off in Syria or Lebanon as a mere student, and, although I spoke unclearly, he understood me and said, "Oh, no, Henderson-Sungo. I am lucky and you know it." In his close-fitting breeches, he set off again. My trousers hampered me as I rushed over the ground behind him. As for the three men with spears, they gave me very little confidence. Any minute I expected the lion to burst on me like an eruption of fire, to knock me down and tear me into flames of blood. The king mounted on a boulder and drew me up with him. He said, "We are near the north wall of the hopo." He pointed it out. It was built of ragged thorns and dead growths of all sorts, heaped and piled to a thickness of two or three feet. Coarse, croaky-looking flowers grew there; they were red and orange and at the center they were blotted with black, and it gave me a sore throat just to look at them. This hopo was a giant funnel or triangle. At the base it was open, while at the apex or spout was the trap. Only one of the two sides was built by human hands. The other was a natural formation of rock, the bank of an old river, probably, which rose to the height of a cliff. Beside the high wall of brush and thorn was a path which the king's feet found under the spiky yellow grass. We continued toward the small end of the hopo over fallen ribs of branches and twists of vine. From the hips, which were small, his figure broadened or loomed greatly toward the shoulders. He walked with powerful legs and small buttocks. "You certainly are on fire to come to grips with this animal," I said. Sometimes I think that pleasure comes only from having your own way, and I couldn't help feeling that this was assimilated by the king from the lions. To have your will, that's what pleasure is, in spite