he stooped, gathering up his things.
For some weeks he had wandered alone across the vast, scorching centre of the Kalahari Desert. It was a test of how strong he was in body and in spirit. Like all the boys of his tribe, he had to go by himself and face sandstorms and hunger and thirst and treacherous paths and mirages. He had been stalked by wildcats and mobbed by packs of dancing jackals. He had leaped over lunging snakes and felt the sting of porcupine quills. So far, he had come through every test bravely and confidently. And without a map or a companion or any sort of help, he had found his way to an ancient oasis. The Really Mads called the place Green Island.
On his walkabout, Shadow had witnessed some strange and wonderful things and in his head he was already turning them into stories to tell round the fire when he returned home to his family. His favourites were about the bravery of three little meerkat kits. They were so small that they could have stood altogether in the palms of his hands. Yet by working together, they had saved a lion cub who was helpless, lost and starving. And when the cub was captured by hunters, they had set him free.
That was the story he most wanted to tell.
“Soon,” he told himself. “I must go home soon.”
Radiant thoroughly enjoyed the snacks they brought back to the Whiffy Old Scrape for her and they all sat together, happily munching in the sunshine.
“If you haven’t sucked the juice out of a frill-necked lizard, you haven’t lived!” said Skeema with a satisfied sigh as he smacked his lips.
Uncle would have agreed, only he had just bitten the head off a barking gecko and he thought it would set a bad example if he talked with his mouth full.
“A feast, for me, for Mimi!” cried his niece. Her sharp claws had swept aside a mound of damp sand to reveal a clutch of wiggling white larvae. She gobbled them up like sweets.
“Oh, do hurry up, Mimi!” squeaked Little Dream, who was on top of a drie doring bush taking his turn as look-out. “It’s way past time for you to take over from me!” He took off his sunglasses and rubbed his tired eyes, but only for a moment. Unlike most meerkats, he had been born without the dark eye-patches that protect the sky-watcher from the dazzling rays of the desert sun. Many a suntime ago, he had dug a Safari-man action-doll out of the sand near the pointy mounds where the Blah-blahs camped – far away in the kingdom of the Sharpeyes. He simply could not have managed without Safari-man’s cool-looking eye-wear. And Uncle felt the same about Safari-man’s stylish pith helmet and safari scarf: he never went anywhere without them.
“Skeema!” said Uncle. “You’re pretty good at the scorpion dance these days! Show the babies how it’s done.”
“Skeema dance, Skeema dance,” chirped the babies, clambering over each other to get a front-row seat.
Skeema gave a very nice demonstration of sniffing, listening, turning stones, rapidly moving the sand and… turning up… a scorpion!
“Nice work, Skeema. Now, babies, watch how he dances him. That’s it, Skeema, dart and dodge. Quick and tricky or he’ll sting your nose!
Forward-forward – JUMP!
In-in – and – BACK!
You see, Zora? Watch Skeema, Quickpaws. Up comes the sting and WHOOPS! – mind-yer-nose! And
Up comes the sting and WHOOPS! – missed-again! And
Up comes the sting and BITE-it-right-off! Hooray! Well danced, Skeema! Now give Bundle a taste of what you caught. Nice, Bundle? Yum-yum-scrummy, eh? Just wait your turn, Trouble. Trouble! Don’t throw sand on Bundle. TROUBLE! Now look. You’ve buried him! You’ve made him cough. That’s not nice, is it? No, and it’s not funny!”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
