Read Online The Leopard Hunts in Darkness by Wilbur Smith - Free Book Online Page A

gone only half a mile when just beyond the wall of grey impenetrable bush that flanked the
narrow trail, there was a sudden hissing, churring outcry of alarm calls and a cloud of brown ox-peckers rose above the scrub. These noisy birds lived in a symbiotic relationship with the larger
African game animals, feeding exclusively on the ticks and bloodsucking flies that infested them, and in return acting as wary sentinels to warn of danger.
    Swiftly following the alarm, there was a deafening chuffing and snorting like that of a steam engine: with a crash, the bush parted and Craig got his longed-for sighting as an enormous grey
beast burst out onto the path not thirty paces ahead of him and, still uttering blasts of affronted indignation, peered short-sightedly over its long polished double horns for something to
charge.
    Aware that the beast’s weak eyes could not distinguish a motionless man at more than fifteen paces, and that the light breeze was blowing directly into his face, Craig stood frozen but
poised to hurl himself to one side if the charge came his way. The rhino was switching his grey bulk from side to side with startling agility, the din of his ire unabated, and in Craig’s
fevered imagination his horn seemed to grow longer and sharper every second. Stealthily he reached for the clasp-knife in his pocket. The beast sensed the movement and trotted a half dozen paces
closer, so that Craig was on the periphery of his effective vision and in serious danger at last.
    Using a short underhanded flick, he tossed the knife high over the beast’s head into the ebony thicket behind it, and there was a loud clatter as it struck a branch.
    Instantly the rhino spun around and launched its huge grey body in a full and furious charge at the sound. The bush opened as though before a centurion tank, and the clattering, crashing charge
dwindled swiftly as the rhinoceros kept going up the side of the hill and over the crest in search of an adversary. Craig sat down heavily in the middle of the path, and doubled over with
breathless laughter in which were echoes of mild hysteria.
    Within the next few hours, Craig had found three of the pans of stinking, stagnant water that these strange beasts prefer to the clean running water of the river, and he had decided where to
site the hides from which his tourists could view them at close range. Of course, he would furnish salt-licks beside the waterholes to make them even more attractive to the beasts, and bring them
in to be photographed and gawked at.
    Sitting on a log, beside one of the waterholes, he reviewed the factors that favoured his plans. It was under an hour’s flight from here to the Victoria Falls, one of the seven natural
wonders of the world, that already attracted thousands of tourists each month. It would be only a short detour to his camp here, so that added little to the tourists’ original airfare. He had
an animal that very few other reserves or camps could offer, together with most of the other varieties of game, concentrated in a relatively small area. He had undeveloped reservations on both
boundaries to ensure a permanent source of interesting animal life.
    What he had in mind was a champagne and caviar type of camp, on the lines of those private estates bordering the Kruger National Park in South Africa. He would put up small camps, sufficiently
isolated from each other so as to give the occupants the illusion of having the wilderness to themselves. He would provide charismatic and knowledgeable guides to take his tourists by Land-Rover
and on foot close to rare and potentially dangerous animals and make an adventure of it, and luxurious surroundings when they returned to camp in the evening – air-conditioning and fine food
and wines, pretty young hostesses to pamper them, wildlife movies and lectures by experts to instruct and entertain them. And he would charge them outrageously for it all, aiming at the very upper
level of the tourist