The Clever Jackal and the Pigs: An African Tale

A Troubling Morning

The pigs had been very troublesome all morning, almost destroying the gate of the garden in their efforts to get at the tempting show within. It was in reward for the children’s help in driving the marauders away that Old Hendrik finally yielded to Annie’s question and told them another tale.

“But you never told us, Ou’ Ta,” said the little girl, “what Old Jackal did for something to eat in the rinderpest time, after he crossed the drift in the pumpkin. What did he do?”

The Jackal’s Predicament

“Well,” replied the old Hottentot, scratching his head, “I’ll tell you what he didn’t do—he didn’t hoe. An’ I’ll tell you now that whatever he does, it’s going to be something skellum. Of course, he had to find something to eat, now that the game’s all dead from the rinderpest, and he had to do it quickly too. So he went roaming around, trotting this way and that, and the only chance he could see at all was at a farm where there were some pigs.

“Those pigs were always sneaking into the lands, rooting up the crops, and the farmer would chase them out with a long ox-whip until he nearly burst. Then he’d stand and mop his face, swearing about what he was going to do with those pigs if he didn’t get someone to look after them soon.

A New Plan

Of course, if Ou’ Jackal had been Ou’ Wolf, he would have gone right up and asked for the job himself, straight out, and the thing would be done. But he wasn’t; he was just Ou’ Jackal, and he had a plan.

The next time the man chased the pigs, Ou’ Jackal waited until they got into a little grass-pan, and then he tried to drive them off further. But the man had seen him stalking, and he ran along with his whip, giving Ou’ Jackal such a close cut near his tail that he nearly jumped out of his skin and made a dash for some sugar cane to hide.

Seeking Help

Well, there he sat, thinking and studying until he finally came up with a plan. “I’ll have to get Ou’ Wolf here,” he said, breaking off a piece of sugar cane and biting into it. “I reckon that’s what I’ll have to do; then I’ll get those pigs right.”

Off he went to the riverside and shouted for Ou’ Wolf. After a while, Ou’ Wolf came and stood on the other bank, and Ou’ Jackal pretended to be surprised to see him.

“Why, what’s the matter with you?” said Ou’ Jackal. “You look mighty bad.”

The Wolf’s Condition

“I don’t,” replied Ou’ Wolf. “I feel just that good and fat I wish there was buck to hunt, even if I didn’t catch any.”

“Don’t you believe it,” said Ou’ Jackal, feigning concern. “You just look bad. Look at your eyes; they’re all red and yellow, like you’re in a terrible state. And look at the skin under your jaws, and then at the hair on the top of your head, and you’ll see straight off how bad you are.”

The Wolf’s Doubt

Ou’ Jackal spoke so seriously that Ou’ Wolf tried to check himself. But he didn’t have a looking-glass, and he tried to look without one. He squinted so hard, trying to see with one eye into the other, that he nearly lost all the skin along both sides of his ribs and stiffened his tail right up from the strain.

When he realized that his eyes couldn’t see into one another, he began to wonder if he wasn’t feeling a bit bad after all.

Desperate Measures

Then he tried to see the skin under his jaws, twisting and snaking until he was standing on his head and scratching the air—but he still couldn’t get a look at it. This made him feel even worse. When he tried to examine the hair on the top of his head, he became so desperate that he threw a double back somersault and landed himself clean into the muddy river.

When he crawled onto a rock and stood for a bit, he decided he really wasn’t feeling well at all.

“What’ll I have to do for it?” he asked Ou’ Jackal, since Ou’ Jackal was King Lion’s doctor.

A Cure Suggested

“Well,” said Ou’ Jackal, “you see what it is. It comes from your eating only those berries and pumpkins; and pumpkins are mighty bad without some meat with them. You’ll have to eat meat for a while, that’s what you’ll have to do. I’m sorry for that, because I just found out where some is, and there’s hardly more than enough for me. But, being as it is, and being as it’s you, I suppose I’ll have to share with you now, being such old chummies. All right then; if I have to do it, I have to, so come on across and we’ll get it done.”

The Wolf’s Gratefulness

Ou’ Wolf thought to himself that Ou’ Jackal was just about the decentest chap he’d seen for a long time. “It’s mighty good of you to do it,” he said; “and I’m not going to forget it either.” Then he plunged into the drift and came out on the bank.

“Where’s this meat at?” he asked.

“Well,” said Ou’ Jackal, looking kind of far away over his shoulder, “it’s this way. Over on the other side of that spruit there’s a farm where they have some pigs, and these pigs are making terrible trouble, rooting up the mealie lands, and the sugar cane, and the watermelons; and the baas says he wants somebody to look after them. You should hear him swear about it! Well now, you go and take the job of minding them. Then you drive them down to the spruit to look after them, and I’ll be there, and we’ll see what we do next.”

The Plan in Motion

“Right-o!” said Ou’ Wolf, and off he went.

He got the job. “Mind now and keep your eye open for a Jackal that’s somewhere about,” said the man. “I’ve seen him already having a try for them.”

“Oh, I’ll be on the lookout for that Jackal,” said Ou’ Wolf. “I’ve seen him myself already, and he’s not going to get the best of me.”

So Ou’ Wolf drove the pigs down to the spruit, and there was Ou’ Jackal waiting for him. “What do we have to do next?” asked Ou’ Wolf.

A Devious Trick

Ou’ Jackal stopped chewing on his piece of sugar cane and laughed right out. “I’ll show you,” said he. “Now we’ll just drive the pigs into the donga here, and we’ll catch them and cut off all their tails; every last one of them.”

Well, they did it, and it was mighty hard work on such a hot day too. Ou’ Wolf noticed every now and again that he was doing most of the work while Ou’ Jackal was doing very little but bossing. But he didn’t say anything yet, because he figured he would just have to get cured.

“And what do we do with these tails now?” he asked when they finished.

“See that mud hole?” said Ou’ Jackal. “Well, you stick the tails all about in the mud, with their little curls curling in the air. Do that now.”

Ou’ Wolf obeyed. “And what’s the next thing?” he asked.

“Well, the next thing is one thing, but there’s another thing before that,” said Ou’ Jackal. “The next thing is for you to go and tell the man that the wild dogs came and chased the pigs until they ran plunk-clunk right into the mud hole, and there they all are, head down and dead down, smothered, with only their little curly tails sticking out. That’s the next thing, but the thing before that is this: the man will say—‘Why didn’t you pull them out?’ And you’ll say you tried to and came mighty near being smothered yourself. Then he’ll say—‘Where’s the mud on you?’ And—well, there you are, where is that mud?” Ou’ Jackal looked very businesslike.

The Wolf’s Dilemma

“Then I have to daub myself with mud?” asked Ou’ Wolf, contemplating whether he would do it or not.

“Daub yourself?” said Ou’ Jackal. “Daub isn’t no sort of word for it. You’ve got to roll in it and squirm in it until you look like you came so near being smothered that there wasn't any fun in it at all. But I’ll help you,” said he. “Here you are now, and over you go,” and before Ou’ Wolf knew what was happening, Ou’ Jackal landed in his ribs, biff! head first, and he went smack into the mud.

With Ou’ Wolf being taken by surprise like that, he had his mouth open and was shouting when he hit the mud, and his ears and eyes were wide open, squashing them all so full of mud, inside and out, that he thought he surely was a goner. Ou’ Jackal just lay down on the bank and flopped with laughter, feeling so good that he began to throw more mud at Ou’ Wolf while he was digging himself out.

The Aftermath

Eventually, Ou’ Wolf got out, and he stood there trying to scrape the mud out of his eyes until he could look at Ou’ Jackal. But Ou’ Jackal looked at him like he was a horse he was buying. “That’s about it,” said he. “You’re just about right now. The man will see right off that you did all you could to save those pigs, and he’ll give you something for it. You’re about the most miserable-looking thing in the veldt right now, but you’re about the most useful chummy there ever was.”

“Oh, I am, am I?” said Ou’ Wolf, unsure whether he was going to fight or just use some words. But the mud in his tummy made him feel so sick that he did neither. He only said, “And what are you going to do all this time?”

“Oh, while you’re gone, I’ll take the pigs and light out for the kraal at your house. Then when you come and find me there, we’ll have meat; all the meat we want. And that’s what’ll cure you; you think of that now,” said he.

Ou’ Wolf thought. “Well, all right this time,” he said, and off he slithered, for he was so thick and heavy with the mud he couldn’t trot at all.

The Confrontation

When he came to the man, he told him how the pigs were smothered, and the man came back with him to have a look. He looked at the mud hole and at all the little curly tails sticking up, and then he looked at Ou’ Wolf. “You’re sure the pigs are smothered in there?” he asked.

“There are their little curly tails sticking out,” said Ou’ Wolf. “They’re all down under there, head first.”

“Well,” said the man, “that’s mighty funny now; because yesterday I rode through that mud hole, and it wasn’t knee-deep.” Then he made a grab for a tail, and there it was in his hand, clean cut off.

Ou’ Wolf thought it was about time to slink out of there, but he hadn’t made the second stride before the man had him. “Their little curly tails are sticking out, are they?” said he, and bash! he biffed him in the ribs. “The wild dogs chased them into the mud, did they?” and he just smashed the wind out of him. “They’re smothered, are they?” said he, and he grabbed Ou’ Wolf up in the air and slammed him down on the ground, and then he fair wiped up the scenery with him. Then he left what was left and went off back to the house.

The Sad Conclusion

After a while, Ou’ Wolf scraped up what was left of him, and he slinked off home, mighty slow and mighty sorry, but he thought, well, he was going to get that meat now to cure himself with, as soon as he got to the kraal and the pigs.

But he got to the kraal and didn’t find the pigs, because they weren’t there, and there wasn’t a sign of Ou’ Jackal either. “That’s funny,” said he. Then he sat down to wait, and he waited until it got dark, and still there wasn’t any Jackal and no pigs. “If he doesn’t come before long,” said Ou’ Wolf, gritting his teeth.

But long or short, Ou’ Jackal didn’t come—neither that night nor the next morning. And what’s more,” ended Old Hendrik, “he hasn’t come yet. But from that day to this, he’s always had plenty of lard in his house to keep his nose well greased. I don’t say how he has it, but he has it—that’s all.”