The Nirvana of the Seven Voodoos

Inch by inch, The GIANT figure in the leopard skin crept forward
through the waving prairie grass. The fierce tropical sun beat down
mercilessly on the mighty shoulders, but a fresh easterly breeze
cooled the bronze forehead. Ki-Gor froze momentarily and hugged the
ground, as a chorus of snorts and the thud of many sharp hoofs
stamping the turf told him that the quarry he was stalking was getting
uneasy. Ki-Gor cursed the inadequate little spear beside him, his sole
weapon. It was a small, flimsy assegai the Pygmies had given him, and
it was all but useless in the important business of hunting game. Not
heavy enough to throw, not strong enough to kill anything bigger than
a jackal.

But, weapon or not, game had to be killed today. Ki-Gor was hungry.
His nostrils twitched and his mouth watered as the breeze bore to him
the scent of his prey, the herd of white-throated wildebeests--the
giant antelope of the East African plateau. With infinite caution he
raised his head and peered through the swaying grass tops. Fifteen
feet away, a young, full-grown buck stared suspiciously upwind toward
the rest of the herd. He was nearly five feet tall at his thick
shoulders, and the coarse, matted hairs of his mane fell over but did
not conceal the cruel horns that dipped downward from his forehead,
then upward and outward.

It was going to be no easy task to subdue this creature barehanded,
but Ki-Gor was desperate. He and Helene had not eaten meat for over a
week, ever since they had left the friendly back of Marmo, the
elephant, at the edge of the Congo jungle to trek on foot, ever
eastward through the grassy uplands of East Africa. There had been
game in plenty, but Ki-Gor had been remarkably unlucky in his hunting.
Five times he had patiently stalked plump gazelles, only to be cheated
out of his prey at the last minute by roving packs of wild dogs. On
two other occasions, he had lain hidden, after dark, beside water-
holes, hoping to make a kill undisturbed by the dogs who would be
asleep. But each of those times he had found himself dangerously close
to a half dozen lions, who apparently had the same idea. That many
lions was too much competition, and Ki-Gor had gone back to Helene
empty-handed, and with a very empty stomach.

Hardly breathing, Ki-Gor slid forward another six inches through the
grass. He must get that buck. For if he and Helene did not eat pretty
soon, they would be so weakened from fasting, that they, too, would
fall prey to some prowling carnivores, and their bones would bleach on
the wind-swept veldt. Closer and closer to the gnu, the jungle man
crept. If only I had a fire-stick, Ki-Gor thought--rifles, Helene
calls them. They have a potent magic which kills at incredible
distances.

But he had no rifle, only the toy spear of the Pygmies, so that he
must be close enough to the gnu to be able to reach it in one spring.
Once the herd discovered him, even his powerful legs could never
overtake them.

Closer and closer, Ki-Gor crept, muscles tensed for action. Suddenly,
the herd upwind of him grew ominously silent. Something had disturbed
the gnus. Was it he? Had they discovered him? Again, he raised his
head to peer through the grass stalks. No, it wasn't he the antelopes
were worried about. They were all facing away from him, muzzles
raised, testing the air. A few does danced about nervously, ready at
any second to break into a headlong gallop. Ki-Gor decided it was now
or never.

Gathering his feet under him, he crouched on his haunches for one
precious moment. Then, noiselessly, he sprang. As he did, the entire
herd jumped forward. Ki-Gor's leap carried just short of the young
buck's back--and the buck was going away. Desperately, Ki-Gor clutched
at a flying hind hoof, and held on for dear life. The buck went down
with a crash. Instantly Ki-Gor leaped for its head and seized a horn
with each hand. The buck lunged upward, sharp hoofs scrambling. They
were levers in Ki-Gor's hands. Using all his mighty strength, he
twisted the shaggy head viciously around. There was a tearing sound,
and a snap. The gnu sank to the ground trembling--its neck broken.