*Chapter X.*
*TOM'S STORY.--THE BABOON BOY.*
Quitting the camp at the first streaks of dawn, after a hurriedbreakfast, Mr. Blakeney and Jan Kokerboom, the Koranna, together withGuy and Poeskop, rode off along the wagon spoor, intending after a mileor two to turn off into the veldt and search in different directions.It was a sad and subdued party; Mr. Blakeney's distress of mind was tooobvious to be ignored, and Guy's usually buoyant spirits were depressedand clouded by anxiety for his cousin's fate. They had cantered twomiles along the wagon track, when suddenly Poeskop, who had been staringin front of him, ejaculated in his most cheerful voice,--
"_Baas, baas, daar kom Baas Tom_! Heep, hurrah!" and, letting off hisrifle in his excitement, the little man put spurs to his pony andgalloped off. It was true; the Bushman's sharp eyes had caught aglimpse of a figure far ahead of them among the bush. All gallopedafter him at headlong pace, and in three or four minutes they were offtheir nags and standing alongside the actual if somewhat dilapidatedfigure of Tom Blakeney. Mr. Blakeney was first up, in spite of Poeskop'sstart, and, jumping from his nag, had the boy in his arms and waspatting him affectionately on the back.
"My dear, dear old Tom!" he cried. "Thank God you are all right." ButTom was too far gone to speak. He could stand up, it was true, but afterforty-eight hours of burning thirst and exhaustion he was speechless.His dry, leathery tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. He tried toejaculate a word, but failed, and instead pointed to his mouth. Guy wasthe quickest to relieve him. Unstrapping his water-bottle from thesaddle, he unscrewed the stopper and handed Tom some lime juice andwater. The fierce, ravenous look in Tom's eyes, as he clutched thebottle, told eloquently enough what he had suffered and how great washis extremity. He took a long draught, and then his father touched hiselbow and said gently,--
"Take it by degrees, Tom, or you may do yourself injury. Have a restnow, and take it in nips. Sit you down for a bit." Tom sat down, andthey all sat around him. He was a pathetic sight, as he sat there,sipping at the water-bottle. His shirt was torn by thorns, and hung intatters about him. His cheeks had fallen in, and he looked gaunt andhaggard--a strangely altered figure from the fresh and comely lad whohad ridden away so gaily from camp just two mornings before. But thirstand anxiety, under a burning sun, will make a wreck of most people inthe space of forty-eight hours. At last he could get out a word.
"Thank God, I have reached you," he said. "I thought last night I wasnever going to see your faces again."
They put him on to Jan Kokerboom's pony, and took him back to thewagons, where there was immense rejoicing all round at the young baas'srecovery--for Tom was a general favourite. After more lime juice andwater, the lad ate some food and drank some tea; after which he lay downon a blanket, under the shade of a tree, and went fast asleep. Towardssundown he awoke, refreshed, cheerful, and nearly his normal self again.They had a merry supper together, and Tom told them his adventures, ofwhich the reader already knows some part.
"After Rufus had bolted," he said, "and I found I couldn't catch him, Iturned back and skinned the cow eland, cut off the head, trimmed it upas well as I could, and made ready a lot of meat. I had fired two shotsto try and attract Guy and Poeskop, and I kept thinking they would beriding up. Well, two hours passed and nobody came, and I thought ittime to be off. Taking some meat, I started on the spoor of the pony.After following it for nearly three hours, it became so mixed up with alot of game spoor, and then so faint, that I clean lost it. I huntedabout in every direction, and at last had to own myself beaten,although, as you know, I'm a pretty fair hand at the business.
"Well, what was to be done now? I had wandered about in so manydifferent directions on the tracks of the pony that I had by this timeclean lost my bearings. However, I took what I judged to be thedirection of your wagon route, after looking at my compass and the sun,and marched on. After skinning the eland I had acquired a tremendousthirst, and could have drunk gallons; before sundown I began to findserious inconvenience from want of water. You know it has beendesperately hot; and shut up in dense bush and forest on this light,sandy soil, it seemed blazing. I never felt the heat so much. Well, itcame to sundown that evening, and I knew I was lost. I began to feeluncomfortable. Still, I thought, I shall be all right in the morning,and shall hear guns going or find the road. I wouldn't let myselfbelieve that I was in really a serious mess. I lit a fire and cooked abit of meat, but I was too dry to make much of a meal. I slept fairlywell; but every now and again I awoke with my tongue, throat, and mouthhorribly parched, and feeling that I would give anything just for onelittle glass of clean water.
"Morning came, and I got up and went on my way. I was too thirsty toeat: my tongue, throat, and lips were very much swollen, and the mereaction of swallowing was most painful; and so I just tramped on. I tookthe direction by sun and compass again, but I was this time so 'bushed,'and had wandered so far from where we had started, that I knew it wouldbe a mere chance if I hit off the wagon track again. As for water,there was none, of course, in that miserable wilderness. Nor, at thistime of year, was there the least speck of dew--everything as dry as abone, including myself. Well, I wandered on and on that day, seldomresting, and gradually getting slower and weaker. All the afternoon Itired steadily, and by two o'clock could scarcely drag one leg afteranother. The veldt was the same: endless bush and mopani forest.
"I rested for an hour, and then, looking at my watch, I determined towalk for another two hours in as straight a direction as I could manage.Of course bush and timber divert one constantly from one's course, but Ipushed steadily on at a slow pace. All this afternoon I kept onthinking of pleasant drinks. Cricket matches came constantly to mymind, with huge refreshing draughts of shandy-gaff, and so on. Andoften I pictured to myself the big dam at Bamborough, and imaginedmyself wading in up to my neck and drinking till I could drink nolonger. My thirst, somehow, was not quite so bad as in the morning, butmy mouth and tongue bothered me a great deal--they were just like somuch leather--and my throat was horribly sore.
"Well, I marched steadily from three till close on five o'clock; then Ifelt so done that I sank down on the ground, and lay in a kind of stuporfor some minutes. I had done my best. It seemed to me that I was beat,and that the vultures would soon be picking my bones. Suddenly I pulledmyself together and looked at my watch, which was still going. It wasnow five minutes to five. With the three minutes' rest I had taken, Iwas still short of the two hours' task I had set myself. Somehow astubborn fit took possession of me. I had said I would walk for twohours. I always had rather a mania for finishing up a task and gettingdone with it. Feeble as I felt, I determined, in sheer doggedness, towalk another eight minutes. Then I would lie down, and for therest--well, the worst must come to the worst. So I got up and pulledmyself together, and stumbled on. It was a wonderful thing, but myblessed obstinacy saved me. In five minutes I came suddenly on thewagon spoor, going north-east. I could scarcely believe my good luck. Istared at the tracks of the wheels, at the spoor of the good old oxen.Never have I seen anything more beautiful. Then, throwing myself on thesand, I patted the spoor as if it were a friend and a living thing. Itseems absurd now, but that is actually what I did.
"Well, the rest is soon told. It was now nearly sunset. I walked ontill the light went; then I lay down and slept, waiting for the moon torise. I awoke just as she climbed up from behind the bush, towardstwelve o'clock. Somehow I felt wonderfully better. I knew that Ishould now see home and friends again, which I had begun seriously todoubt all day yesterday. I could hold the spoor all right in themoonlight, and tramped along slowly and wearily, but still steadily,till four o'clock. Then I rested for an hour and a half. Little did Ithink I was now within a few miles of camp, or I should have fired arifle shot. As soon as dawn began to come I walked on again, and then,after twenty minutes, looking up, I saw Poeskop and you, dear old pater,galloping up towards me."
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bsp; "Well, my boy," said Mr. Blakeney solemnly, "it was a wonderfully luckyescape. This thirst-land is a terrible country to get lost in, and manya man has died of thirst in it and left his bones. I think your suddenresolution to get up and finish your two hours' walk was a kind ofmiracle. I see the hand of God in it, my boy, and we ought to be, asindeed we are, truly thankful for it. I can't tell you what a load isoff my mind. All yesterday and last night I was in an agony of anxiety,wondering what was to become of you."
"If you hadn't taken that sudden resolution to go on for another eightminutes, Tom," said Guy, "should you have ever got up again?"
"No, I don't think I should," returned Tom. "I was so dead beat, and Ihad practically given up all hope."
"Well, thank God you stuck to your task and went on," said Guy."Otherwise you might have lain there, and died actually within fiveminutes' walk of salvation. It's a wonderful thing, whichever way youlook at it."
"Yes, I doubt whether Tom would have got through another day," said Mr.Blakeney. "Thirst, in this thirsty country, kills a man. The heat andthe terrible anxiety both add to the danger. In most parts of the veldtyou know that if you walk for a certain distance you will strike water.Here, if you get bushed, as you easily can, it's a matter ofimpossibility to find your way to perhaps one waterpit in hundreds ofsquare miles of country. In 1879 a friend of Selous, the famous hunter,a Mr. French, died of thirst in very similar country, near the ChobeRiver, in less than two days. And in the same year, in the samecountry, three Kaffirs died of thirst within twenty-four hours of thetime they had left the last water. This was in September, before therains fall, when the heat is always terrific. Thank God once more thatyou are so well out of it, Tom. I shall always be chary of letting youhunt in thirst country again, and it's a lesson never to go out withoutfull water-bottles. There's just one other thing. Many hunters,including Selous, in hunting in such country, always have a piece ofcord fastened to the cheek ring of their horse's bridle, and attached atthe other end to the hunting belt. By this precaution, which in futurewe will all adopt, you can't lose your horse, as Tom had the bad luck todo. I'll see to the cords at once, and to-morrow you shall begin to usethem."
They stood at the water, where they were now outspanned, for a fulltwenty-four hours longer. By this time the oxen and horses, which hadsuffered a good deal from the trek through the thirst, had recovered.During that day, at Tom's particular request, Poeskop rode back alongthe wagon spoor with the freshest pony, and recovered and brought in thehead of the bull eland which Tom had first shot. It was a magnificenthead, and Tom was rightly proud of it; and, in addition, it would be areminder to him of a very perilous episode in his life history.
Poeskop turned up late at night with the trophy. He found the body ofthe bull picked nearly clean by vultures. The skin of the head wasspoiled, but the horns were, of course, intact, and Tom welcomed themwith an exceeding great joy.
Taking five shillings from his purse, he gave it to the little Bushman."There, Poeskop," he said; "you've done a good day's work, and I'm muchobliged to you. I can see by the look of the pony that you've had atough ride of it."
The Bushman, tired though he was, grinned his hugest and most pleasantgrin.
"The baas is very welcome," he said, "and I am well paid for my trouble.And when the baas gets home again and sticks up the horns, as he says hewill, he will remember Poeskop and the hunt in the thirst-land."
"Yes, that I will, Poeskop," said Tom quickly. "You're a good fellow tobring in the head. It's a fine one, isn't it?"
"Ja, Baas Tom," added Poeskop; "a right good head. That eland was abig, full-grown bull, seven years old at least."
They trekked next morning, and, travelling for two days over more opencountry, reached a picturesque region of hills and kopjes. It was amongthese hills that a somewhat singular adventure overtook them. Tom, whohad quite recovered his spirits, had been out with his father, Guy, andPoeskop in search of klipspringer. They had bagged a brace of thesecharming little antelopes, and were now passing through a poort or passto another range of hills. On the rocky heights above a troop ofbaboons barked angrily at them, from the shelter of some dark bush andgreenery, through which their hideous, satyr-like faces could beoccasionally seen.
"Shall I have a shot at one, uncle?" said Guy. "It would serve thebrutes right for making that hideous row. One might think the placebelonged to them."
"No, don't fire, Guy," answered Mr. Blakeney. "They're troublesomerascals; but they won't interfere with us, and it's a pity to waste acartridge. After all, they are so seldom molested here that I supposethey consider the place belongs to them. Here they are harmless. Downin Cape Colony they are a pest, and one is bound to get rid of them.Years ago some baboon discovered that the milk paunch of a young kid wasa pleasant thing to devour. His discovery spread, and farmers now losehundreds of unfortunate goats, killed in this way by baboons. And sothey have to be shot or poisoned, or otherwise got rid of. They'reartful brutes, and very difficult to circumvent."
Guy and Tom looked rather longingly at the big apes, running excitedlythrough the bushes above them, and making the while a most unpleasantdin. Presently they crossed the smooth, sandy bed of a periodicalstream. Here Poeskop, who was a little ahead, halted, and began toexamine the ground very curiously. An exclamation or two escaped him.He moved forward, took a turn towards the hillside, and came back.
"What is it, Poeskop?" asked Mr. Blakeney, who had been watching thelittle man curiously.
"Come with me, baas," said the Bushman, with a puzzled look on his face."I will show you a strange thing." They walked forward, and Poeskopdirected their attention to the spoor of some animals which had beenmoving about the valley. "What does the baas see?" queried the Bushman.
"I see the spoor of _baviaans_ [baboons]," answered Mr. Blakeney,examining the soil.
"Yes," broke in Tom, "baboons, right enough. But what'sthis?--something besides baboons."
Mr. Blakeney and Guy moved forward to where Tom stood, and saw instantlythat other footprints were mingled with those of the great apes. Mr.Blakeney stooped, and examined critically the smooth sand and the wholetracery of footprints displayed so clearly.
"It's a strange thing," he said, half to himself; "but one could almostswear that here was the spoor of a child."
He glanced sharply at Poeskop, who had remained silent, but was nowregarding him with an odd smile on his yellow face.
"Yes," said the little Bushman, in response to his master's look; "thatis the spoor of a child--a baboon boy!"
"A baboon boy, Poeskop?" reiterated Mr. Blakeney. "What do you mean?"
"Well, baas," answered Poeskop, "I mean this. We Bushmen, and othernatives of this country, know that sometimes the baboons carry off achild and bring it up with them, and the creature lives with them andgrows wild and picks up their habits. It is not often that it happens,but it does sometimes. There is a baboon boy here, among thesehills--that is certain. Here, you see, is his spoor, as plain asdaylight. There are his footmarks, and there the prints of his fingers.He runs on all fours, just like a baviaan."
"It seems a queer yarn," said Mr. Blakeney, looking at the spoormusingly, "and I never heard of such a thing before. Can it be true?What becomes of the poor thing?"
"Well, baas," answered Poeskop, "I don't think they often grow up. Thelife is too hard for them. But my father once told me that he knew of awild man who lived among the baboons, far away yonder"--the Bushmanpointed north-east--"and was called the King of the Baboons. He waskilled by a native tribe, who began to be afraid of him and the apes helived with."
"A strange story, indeed," said Mr. Blakeney. "Well, we can't let thispoor wretch stay with these baboons. We must hunt them up and try to gethold of him."
"It will be a tough job, baas," said Poeskop; "but we will try."
"How shall we do it, Poeskop?" said Guy. "Go after them now, and try toshoot the old men baboons?"
"No, Baas Guy," said the Bushman,
"that would be no good. We shouldnever catch them up these hills, and we might shoot the wrong baboon andkill the boy. Leave it to me. I will hide up here among the rocks, andfollow up the troop. They will go to rest at sundown in some cave; andif I can mark the place, we can go for them at night, and perhaps takethe boy."
So Poeskop was left among the wild hills, while Mr. Blakeney and theboys strolled quietly back to the wagon--which was now outspanned at theentrance to the kopjes--and made ready for the evening. They hadsupper, and presently, a little before eight o'clock, Poeskop walkedquietly into the camp.
"Well, Poeskop," chorused the two boys, "what's the news? Have youmarked them down?"
"Ja, baas," said the Bushman, a pleased smile playing on his features,"I have marked them down."
"Baboon boy and all?"
"Ja, baboon boy and all. They are gone to sleep in a big cave, not farfrom where we saw them, and we shall find them presently."
"That's excellent," said Mr. Blakeney. "Now, Poeskop, get your supperand have a pipe. When shall we start?"
"Not till the moon gets up a bit, baas," answered the Bushman. "We canthen find our way better, and the baviaans will all be fast asleep."
They waited a couple of hours, till ten o'clock. The moon rose slowlybehind the hills and shed a glorious light, tipping the wild kopjes withpale silver, and casting blue-black shadows from bush and tree andant-hill. Mr. Blakeney had delved among the wagon stores and brought outsome blue lights, with which, as well as with a couple of lanterns, theywere provided for the assault. Three-quarters of an hour's walk broughtthem near to the scene of operations. Sheltering behind some bush, theynow lit the two lanterns, and moved forward for the final act. It was astirring moment. Not a sound was heard through the vast solitude ofthese lonely hills, save for the ceaseless droning of a cicada in a bushhard by. The very night birds were asleep or absent. The clear moongazed down upon the little group of serious men with placid serenity.Very silently they moved forward, Poeskop and Mr. Blakeney leading.Turning an angle of bush, Poeskop nudged his master. Mr. Blakeneyswiftly lighted a blue light at his open lantern, and the pair dashedforward. They stooped and entered a dark cavern, the boys close attheir heels, and then a weird scene, indeed, met their gaze.
They stood in a large cave some thirty yards square. The roof was fairlylofty, once they had passed the portal, and the wonderful illuminationof the blue light, now held upwards by Mr. Blakeney, lit up every nookand cranny of the place. In the corner, huddled together as if formutual encouragement and protection, was a troop of some score ofbaboons, big and little. All the creatures were alarmed and angry. Theolder and bigger beasts showed their teeth threateningly, and_quah-quahed_ fiercely at the intruders. In the centre of the group theeyes of the onlookers were instantly fixed, on a figure which, as allcould clearly see, differed somewhat from the rest of the apes. It hada black face, but it was human, and, undoubtedly, the baboon boy.
"Now, lads," said Mr. Blakeney, "you guard the entrance. Let all escapethat will, but whatever happens seize the boy yonder. Shoot any of thebrutes that go for you. I'll stir them up."
As he spoke these words the fury of the baboons seemed to be redoubled;they barked fiercely, their raucous voices resounding hoarsely throughthe cavern. Holding the blue light aloft in his left hand and a revolverin his right, Mr. Blakeney advanced upon the group. Poeskop kept pacewith him. Two grim old men baboons suddenly quitted the group and ranat a shamble swiftly upon Mr. Blakeney. The first barrel of hisrevolver accounted for the leader at close quarters; before he couldpress the trigger again, the second, a huge baboon, leaped for histhroat. Mr. Blakeney somehow managed to elbow the brute off, and itsteeth met in the fleshy part of his shoulder. At the same moment abullet from Poeskop's carbine, the barrel pressed against the baboon'sribs, pierced its body. It relaxed its grip and dropped dead.
A huge baboon leaped for his throat.]
The commotion set up by these attacks and by the firing wasindescribable. It seemed to the two lads guarding the entrance thatthey stood in some wild inferno. The hoarse barkings of the olderbeasts; the howls and shrieks of the young animals; the smoke driftingacross the startling illumination of the blue light; the dark, rough,uncouth figures of the apes, now beginning to scatter for flight--allthese things seemed like the strange semblance of some wild dream. Nowthe baboons were separating. They ran in two parties round the walls ofthe cavern. Eight of the biggest, snapping and feinting in savageaffright, Guy and Tom allowed to pass and escape out at the cave mouth.Two or three half-grown beasts and some mother baboons, with some quitesmall animals, went next. Next came a huge old female, with the baboonboy running at her heels. Guy and Tom ran back for the entrance, andplanted themselves there. The baboon, grunting savagely and showing herformidable teeth, ran at Tom, and was in the act of springing at histhroat, when a terrific kick from the lad caught her fairly on the pointof the jaw and stretched her on the sand. Guy fired his Mannlicherinstantly at the creature's head, and the thin bullet at once stretchedher dead. At this the dark figure behind her--the baboon boy--turnedand fled, seeking the farthest corner of the cave. By this time thereseemed little fight left in the small remnant of baboons. The boys cameforward from the entrance once more, and the maddened creatures sweptout and away into the night. Besides themselves, but one figure remainedin the cavern--the baboon boy.
"Now, lads, back to the entrance again!" cried Mr. Blakeney, "and we'llsoon finish the business."
Kindling another blue light, he and Poeskop advanced upon the darkfigure crouching behind a big projection of rock. As they approached,the thing, with a strange inhuman, angry grunt, manifestly copied fromthe baboons, darted away and ran round the cave wall. Poeskop flung downhis carbine and rushed in pursuit. The three Englishmen, the ludicrousside of the chase overmastering the element of horror in this weirdscene, burst into laughter as the Bushman chased the preternaturallyactive baboon boy round and round the cavern. Twice as it passed theentrance one of the boys made a grab at the creature. It sheered off,however, and, as they hesitated to leave their post, ran on. ButPoeskop, suddenly ceasing from his pursuit, now made a cut across. Mr.Blakeney barred the way to the fleeing figure, and the Bushman, throwinghimself upon the naked, black-skinned thing, held it in a grip thatnever relaxed. The creature bit, fought, scratched, and struggledfiercely. It was all of no avail. In five minutes Poeskop and Mr.Blakeney had the wild thing fastened up securely. Between them theycarried it moaning down the hill and through the valley, and presentlygot it to their camp fire. There, surrounded by their curious nativeservants, who had heard the tale from Poeskop, they examined theircapture with an interest strangely sharpened by amazement.