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affaire d’amour
with old Grurck here to an end, but
you know how it is.”
“No I
don’t
know how it is, you despicable savage,” Major Fritch say.
“Where do you get off, anyway? You oughta be ashamed of yoursef!”
“Perhaps we can serve you an Grurck on the same platter,” Big Sam
chuckled, “a little light an dark meat—myself, I’ll take a thigh, or
possibly a breast—now that would be a nice touch.”
“You vile, unspeakable ass!” say Major Fritch.
“Whatever,” Big Sam says. “And now, let the feast begin!”
They begun untyin us an a bunch of them jiggaboos hauled us towards
the cookin pot. They lifted up po ole Sue first, cause Big Sam say he will
make good “stock,” an they was holdin him above the cauldron about to
thow him in, when lo an behole, a arrow come out of noplace an strike
one of the fellers hoistin up Sue. The feller fall down an Sue drop on top
of him. Then more arrows come rainin down on us from the edge of the
jungle, an everbody is in a panic.
“It is the pygmies!” shout Big Sam. “Get to your arms!” an everbody
run to get they spears an knives.
Since we ain’t got no spears or knives, Major Fritch, me an Sue an
Grurck start runnin down towards the river again, but we ain’t no more
than ten feet down the path when all of a sudden we is snatched up feet
first by some kind of snares set in the trees.
We is hangin there, upside down like bats, an all the blood rushin to
our heads, when this little guy come out of the brush an he be laughin
an gigglin at us all trussed up. All sorts of savage sounds are comin from
the village, but after a wile, everthing quiet down. Then a bunch of other
pygmies come an cut us down an tie our hans an feet an lead us back to
the village.
It is a sight! They has captured Big Sam an all his natives an has them
tied up han an foot too. Look like they is bout to thow them into the
boilin pot.
“Well, old sport,” Big Sam say, “seems like you were saved in the nick
of time, doesn’t it?”
I nod my head, but I ain’t sure if we isn’t jus out of the fryin pan an
into the fire.
“Tell you what,” says Big Sam, “looks like it’s all over for me an my
fellers, but maybe you have a chance. If you can get to that harmonica of
yours an play a little tune or two, it might save your life. The king of the
pygmies is crazy for American music.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Don’t mention it, old sport,” Big Sam say. They lifted him up high an
was holdin him over the boilin cauldron, an suddenly he call out to me,
“Knight to bishop three—then rook ten to king seven—that’s how I beat
you!”
They was a big splash, and then all Big Sam’s trussed-up natives begun
chantin “boola-boola” again. Things are lookin down for us all.
After they done finished cookin Big Sam’s tribe, an shrinkin they heads,
the pygmies slung us between long poles an carried us off like pigs into
the jungle.
“What do you spose they intend to do with us?” Major Fritch call out
to me.
“I don’t know, an I don’t give a shit,” I call back, an that were about
the truth. I’m tired of all this crappola. A man can take jus so much.
Anyhow, after about a day or so we come to the village of the
pygmies, an as you might expec, they has got a bunch of little tiny huts
in a clearin in the jungle. They truck us up to a hut in the center of the
clearin where there is a bunch of pygmies standin aroun—an one little
ole feller with a long white beard an no teeth settin up in a high chair
like a baby. I figger him to be the king of the pygmies.
They tumped us out onto the groun an untied us, an we stood up an
dusted ourselfs off an the king of the pygmies commence jabberin some
gibberish an then he get down from his chair an go straight up to Sue an
kick him in the balls.
“How come he done that?” I axed Grurck, who had learnt to speak
some English wile he was livin with Major Fritch.
“Him want to know if ape is boy or girl,” Grurck say.
I figger there must be a nicer way to find that out, but I ain’t sayin
nothin.
Then the king, he come up to me an start talkin some of that gibberish
—pygmalion, or whatever it is—an I’m preparing to get kicked in the
balls too, but Grurck say, “Him want to know why you livin with them
awful cannibals.”
“Tell him it weren’t exactly our idea,” Major Fritch pipe up an say.
“I got a idea,” I says. “Tell him we is American musicians.”
Grurck say this to the king an he be peerin at us real hard, an then he
axe Grurck somethin.
“What’s he say?” Major Fritch want to know.
“Him axe what the ape plays,” say Grurck.
“Tell him the ape plays the spears,” I say, an Grurck do that, an then
the king of the pygmies announce he want to hear us perform.
I get out my harmonica an start playin a little tune—“De Camptown
Races.” King of the pygmies listen for a minute, then he start clappin his
hans an doin what look to be a clog dance.
After I’m finished, he say he wants to know what Major Fritch an
Grurck plays, an I tell Grurck to say Major Fritch plays the knives an that
Grurck don’t play nothin—he is the manager.
King of the pygmies look sort of puzzled an say he ain’t never heard of
anybody playin knives or spears before, but he tell his men to give Sue
some spears an Major Fritch some knives an let’s see what sort of music
we come up with.
Soon as we get the spears an knives, I say, “Okay—now!” an ole Sue
conk the king of the pygmies over the head with his spear an Major
Fritch threatened a couple of pygmies with her knives an we run off into
the jungle with the pygmies in hot pursuit.
The pygmies be thowin all sorts of rocks an shit at us from behin, an
shootin they bows an arrows an darts from blowguns an such. Suddenly
we come out on the bank of a river an ain’t no place to go, an the
pygmies are catchin up fast. We is bout to jump into the river an swim
for it, when suddenly from the opposite side of the river a rifle shot ring
out.
The pygmies are right on top of us, but another rifle shot ring out an
they turn tail an run back into the jungle. We be lookin across the river
an lo an behole on the other bank they is a couple of fellers wearin bush
jackets an them white pith helmets like you used to see in
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