The Mzungu Boy by Meja Mwangi

biscuits, scooping them out of Nigel’s pockets in handfuls. The running and the falling about had broken them to powder.
    We sat there a long time while the dogs dug.
    Unnoticed by us, thunder rolled from the mountain and down the river valleys.
    Nine
    WHEN THE ENTRANCE to the warthog’s hole was wide enough, Salt pushed his head and shoulders through and barked in the hole.
    There was a sudden quiet from within. We got down on our knees and put our ears to the ground to listen. We heard the sound we had heard once before, the rumbling of approaching thunder. The sound grew louder as it came nearer, and the earth shook.
    We jumped to our feet and prepared to run. Then Salt gave a yelp. He shot backwards out of the hole and went spinning in the air. He crashed into Pepper and both dogs went down in a cloud of dust.
    Old Moses stuck his head out of the burrow and shook his tusks at us. Then he retreated and crashed to the bottom of the hole with a thud.
    The dogs picked themselves up from the dust. They were shivering from the shock. Salt limped over to Nigel, but Pepper dove angrily into the hole, pushing his way in until only his tail was left wagging in the air.
    Again the deep, expectant silence. Pepper was older and wiser than Salt. He did not bark in the hole. He listened, as we did, to the start of the rumbling that would warn us of the approaching thunder.
    We heard it coming, the ground shaking from its force, and we jumped back as before.
    Pepper wriggled out of the hole and sprang away from the mouth of the den at the very last second.
    With a loud whooshing sound, Old Moses shot out of the hole and into the air. Pepper had timed the moment just right. He leapt onto the old warthog’s back and sank his teeth into the massive mane. They landed ten yards away from us. Pepper was still on top, trying desperately to sink his killer fangs into the warthog’s thick neck.
    Old Moses charged on through the grassland. We waited for him to turn around and come charging back to his den.
    It took us a moment to realize that he had no intention of returning to his hole. Then we ran.
    Salt had by now fully recovered from shock and he dashed forward to help his brother.
    Then Old Moses stopped so suddenly that Pepper flew off his back and went crashing into the dust. Old Moses veered to the right and made for the first line of bush, about half a mile away along the river valley. When the dust cleared, we saw Pepper pick himself up and go furiously after Old Moses, with Salt right behind him.
    We ran after them. I stepped into a mole hole and fell down. Nigel was fifty paces behind me and doing his best to keep up. I stopped to wait for him. He was panting heavily, and his arms and his legs were almost black with sweat and dust.
    â€œShall we go home now?” I asked while he caught his breath.
    â€œNo.” His face was red with excitement. “We almost have him now.”
    â€œBut he is gone. We’ll never see him again.”
    â€œWe shall,” he said. “The dogs will catch him now.”
    â€œIt will be dark soon,” I pleaded. “We must go home.”
    He looked around and for the first time seemed to realize where he was. The sun was sinking over the hills and we were still miles away from home. Way up in the east, thunderclouds poured from the mountains into the valleys. Lightning flashed and thunder clashed. There was the smell of dust in the air, a sign that the rain had started its gradual descent into the plains.
    I worried about flash floods. I worried about the river flooding.
    â€œWe must go home now,” I said to Nigel.
    â€œBut the dogs,” he said. “We must get the dogs.”
    â€œIt will soon be dark,” I told him.
    â€œWe must get the dogs,” he insisted. “We can’t go home without them.”
    We ran on.
    The old warthog had disappeared in the forest. Salt and Pepper dove in after him. We came up