*Chapter VII.*
*ADVENTURES IN THE VELDT.*
They were now busily employed for the rest of that morning and some wayinto the afternoon in skinning and cutting up their game. The flesh ofan old bull giraffe is not good eating, and they were content to takeportions of the hide, the feet--which make excellent trophies--the tail,and the skin of the head. From the other two they took furthertrophies, and a large quantity of flesh. The wagons came up with thempresently, and the meat was loaded up. Then they trekked on for theriver, where they camped for the evening. After the oxen had grazed,they were brought in at sundown, and fastened to their yokes for thenight. Big fires were lighted, and the two parties, masters andservants, enjoyed a banquet of giraffe venison. The flesh of a freshyoung cow-giraffe is excellent, somewhat like good veal, with agame-like flavour of its own. But the _bonnes-bouches_ of the eveningmeal were the marrow-bones of these gigantic quadrupeds, roasted in thehot ashes. These were then sawn in half, and the marrow scooped outwith long spoons of wood improvised for the occasion.
"Why, father," exclaimed Tom, as he finished his second helping of thesavoury stuff, "this beats boiled beef marrow-bone out of the field. Inever tasted anything so delicious."
"No, I don't suppose you ever have," said Mr. Blakeney. "Giraffemarrow-bone is the king of veldt fare. There's nothing to equal it.But we must cry enough. It's rich food, and I've known men in the lowcountry bring on a fresh attack of fever simply from over-indulgingthemselves in too much of this good thing."
They sat after supper near the blazing fire--the boys writing up theirdiaries by its cheerful light, Mr. Blakeney smoking his pipe andskinning a beautiful crimson-breasted shrike which he had shot thatafternoon in some thorn bush along the river. He and the boys hadalready begun a collection of birds, which they meant to take home withthem.
There was no moon, but through the dark, velvety pall of the night-skymyriads of stars pricked forth in an array of marvellous brilliancy.Down the river there came the curious wailing titter of a jackal, thenanother. Not long after, a low moaning roar was heard from the samequarter. This was answered by another roar nearer the camp.
"Lions!" exclaimed Mr. Blakeney. "Seleti, put more wood on the fires.Do you, Mangwalaan, light another there, beyond the leading span ofoxen. We shall have to look out."
The Bechuana boys piled up the firewood, and soon had yet another blazegoing.
Just then Poeskop came up to his masters.
"I say, Poeskop," said Guy, who had finished his diary of the day'sdoings, "is it true that the jackal is the lion's provider, and goesahead for him and smells out his food, and lets his master know of it?"
The Bushman squatted down near the fire, and smiled a broad smile thatwrinkled up his whole face and nearly concealed his eyes.
"Nay, my baas," he said, "I don't think that. But the lion knows fromthe jackal's cry when he winds food, and comes after him."
Now, from the winding river, not more than a quarter of a mile away,there rose the loud roar of a single lion, then another, and then yetanother across the river. Then the three roared in unison, creating avolume of sound that was not only strangely majestic and awe-inspiring,but seemed to make the whole air vibrate and tremble.
"Ah!" said Poeskop quietly, "they won't hurt us to-night. When theyroar like that, lions have full stomachs, and are not hungry. It isonly when they purr and growl, or, still worse, when they are silent,that you must look out for them."
"They've got our wind, Poeskop," added Mr. Blakeney, "and they'retelling one another of the fact."
"Ja, baas," said the Bushman. "They smell meat and oxen; but they won'ttouch us to-night--at least, I don't think so. There's the old manikin,the father lion--that was the first roar; then his wife; and then ayoung, nearly full-grown lion, their son."
"How on earth do you know that, Poeskop?" exclaimed Tom.
"Well, Baas Tom," replied the little man with a snigger, "I was broughtup in a wild country, much wilder even than this, and I learned to knowevery sound in the veldt by day and night, and the voice of every beast,big and little. My food and my life depended on it; and my parents, andtheirs before them, knew all about these things, and told me of them.You may say I sucked them in with my mother's milk."
"Talking about jackals," he went on musingly; "they are funnybeasts--the cleverest and most quick-witted in the veldt. We Bushmenhave many tales about them. Shall I tell you one?"
"Yes, yes," said Guy and Tom together. "Fire away, Poeskop!"
"Well," proceeded the little Bushman, "there was once a jackal thatlived in Namaqualand, not far from the sea. He saw one day a wagonladen with fish; and as he was fond of fish, and wanted a change offood, he tried to get into the wagon from behind. But it was filled up,and he could not do so. But he bethought himself of a plan. So he ranand lay in the road as if dead. He was a silver-backed jackal, and hada beautiful skin; and the _fore-louper_ [ox-leader] came along andpicked him up, and said to the driver, 'Here's a fine jackal skin foryour vrouw!' 'Throw it up,' said the driver, and the boy threw thejackal into the wagon. It was a fine night, just like this, and thejackal busied himself in throwing the fish out of the wagon as far as hewas able, sniggering to himself as he did so. Then, presently, heslipped down, and went back along the road to his feast. But he found,to his great annoyance, that a great spotted hyaena and his wife hadalready found and eaten up most of the fish. Master Jackal thought alittle, and decided to hide his vexation, and then explained to thehyaena his plan; and the hyaena said it was good, and he would try itone of these days. So a little while after the hyaena saw the wagoncoming from the sea again, laden with fish, and, just as the jackal haddone, stretched himself out for dead on the road in front. Thefore-louper boy came up, and seeing a mangy hyaena said, 'Here's an uglybrute!' As he said this, he dealt the hyaena a heavy kick. The hyaenaflinched, and the boy, smelling a rat, as you English say, ran back tothe wagon-driver and told him. The two returned with sticks, andbelaboured the hyaena within an inch of his life. But the hyaena, as hehad been told to do by the jackal, lay still till they had finished withhim. Then he got up, sore all over, and dragged himself off. He toldhis misfortune to the jackal, who pretended to sympathize.
"'Ah!' said the hyaena, 'it was your handsome skin that helped you.Never mind, I shall find another way next time.'
"The jackal sniggered to himself, and went off with his tail up, havingenjoyed a very pleasant revenge."
There was much laughter at this simple Bushman yarn.
"Poeskop," said Mr. Blakeney, "what part of the country do your peoplecome from, and what race are you?"
"Well, baas," returned the little man, "my people are San or huntingHottentots, and my clan is the Matsana Khoi-San, who lived once in thecountry north-east of the Ovampo tribes. We say that our forefatherswere once paramount in all this country, from Ovampoland to the OrangeRiver. But we have had many wars and troubles, and have been huntedabout by stronger tribes, until there are few of us remaining. And sowe live in the deserts with the wild beasts, and pick up our living asbest we can. There are other Bushmen tribes among us--that is,San-Hottentots--the Ai-San and the Kun-San, and the Au-ai-San and theAn-San, and others. They lead hard lives, and have many enemies. Mymother was taken by a lion one night, when I was a child, and my fatherwas killed soon after in a raid by the Ovampos. These people made aslave of me, and sold me afterwards to a white trader from Walfish Bay,who treated me well, and gave me my freedom. I was with him a longtime, and he was a good master."
"How did you get your name, Poeskop?" queried Tom. "Did your fathergive it you?"
"No, Baas Tom," said the Bushman. "That was given me by a Dutchman withwhom I worked for some time. He had been in the Old Colony, and knewall about the coast. He said my face reminded him of a seafish calledpoeskop, so he called me by that name, and it has stuck to me eversince. My Bushman name was Akabip."
Poes
kop pronounced this word with two appalling clicks of the tongue,which Guy and Tom vainly tried to imitate. The little man went intofits of laughter over their struggles, and they all roared together.
It was now time to turn in. In the hunting veldt most men are glad toretire by nine o'clock, often even earlier. Guy and Tom saidgood-night, and betook themselves to the tent, in which stood their lowbeds, constructed of iron and canvas. These folded up into wonderfullysmall space, and were put away on the wagon each morning. The two ladswere at this time allowed to sleep the night through without beingdisturbed. Mr. Blakeney, Jan Kokerboom, the driver, and Poeskop eachwoke once in turn during the small hours, and saw to it that the fireswere kept up and the camp in safety. As Poeskop had predicted, theywere not disturbed by lions; and at dawn next morning the whole companywere awake and astir, vigorous and refreshed, and ready for theadventures of another day.
Although they were now fairly in the land of big game, it was not partof Mr. Blakeney's design to waste time by the way. Each day the wagonwas to trek steadily on under the guidance of Poeskop towards theappointed goal, that mysterious kloof of gold of which they often talkedas they sat together round the camp fire. The wagon moved off afterbreakfast, therefore, while Mr. Blakeney and the two boys, withPoeskop--who had meanwhile set the course for the day--as after-rider,rode off into the veldt to the right front. They could see clumps ofgame grazing ahead of them, about a mile away in the distance, andtowards these they took their way.
Crossing the river which intersected the plain, and which at this thedry season of the year held only a few pools of water here and there inits sandy bed, the hunters rode on quietly till they came within half amile of the nearest troop. Mr. Blakeney took out his field-glass fromits case--this he carried slung over his shoulder--and surveyed theprospect before them.
"That nearest troop, now getting fidgety," he said, "are tsesseby. It'sno use running them across this big flat. They're the fleetest of allthe antelopes, and stay for ever. Yonder are ostriches and Burchell'szebra. Tom and I will have a try at those. Do you, Guy, take Poeskop,and ride quietly for the big troop of blue wildebeest on the right.You'll have to ride hard, if they begin to run before you get withinshot. But they may pull up when they get over the dip yonder, and giveyou a chance. Now then, Tom, away we go."
Guy and Poeskop cantered quietly in the direction of the bluewildebeest, a troop of some eighty of which were grazing quietly about amile and a half away. They approached without difficulty to within somesix hundred yards, and then, from the left of them, came the report of arifle, then another, and yet another. Already, then, Mr. Blakeney andTom were engaged! Guy looked in that direction, but could see no morethan the distant figures of his uncle and cousin scouring away aftersome specks--the game they were pursuing--in front of them. He nowturned his attention to the wildebeest of which he was in pursuit. Thenoise of the shooting had already disturbed them. Their heads were up,scenting the air for danger, and those animals which had been lying downhad sprung to their feet. There was no time to be lost. "We must_hart-loup_ [gallop]," said Poeskop quietly; and shaking up the willingnags, the two dashed headlong for the game. Now, at last, the wildebeesttook real alarm. Bunching together in a big phalanx, plunging andcapering, and whisking their long black tails, the troop set off at whatlooked like a heavy lumbering gallop, but was in reality a swift pace,taking a course right-handed in the direction of the river-bed. Guy, ashe galloped, watched the herd with intense interest. It was the firsttime he had run blue wildebeest, or, as he had been accustomed to callthem in England, brindled gnu. Their big, heavy, somewhat buffalo-likeheads, carried low as they ran, and the masses of dark hair that coveredtheir necks, throats, and faces, gave them a cumbrous appearance; butthere was no mistake about the pace they went. They swept over thegrass plain as fast as the ponies could gallop, and they were evidentlynot yet stretching themselves out. It was going to be a long and astern chase. Pursued and pursuers had run somewhat over a mile, stillbending towards the river, with its thick fringe of bush and low timber;five hundred yards separated Guy from the nearest wildebeest. They werestringing out now; it was useless to think of firing just yet; and thena diversion happened.
Disturbed by the trample of four-score fleeing wildebeest, a troop ofbuffalo, which had been resting in the shade of the river bush, suddenlyemerged from their concealment and began to run up wind, taking verymuch the course of the retreating gnu. They had not gone a hundredyards when there burst from the seclusion of the river greenery, just inadvance of them, two huge, unwieldy figures. It needed not Poeskop'sexcited exclamation of "Rhinoster, baas!" to convince Guy that he nowsaw before him a brace of rhinoceroses, as well as buffaloes and bluewildebeest. It was a thrilling moment; and the lad, with blithecountenance and the light of supreme joy--the wild joy of the hunter--inhis blue eyes, shook up his good pony to yet a faster pace. The bluewildebeest were neglected now; which should he first go for, thebuffaloes or the rhinoceroses? His mind was instantly made up. Thebuffaloes were nearest, no more than two hundred yards away; he wouldhave a try at them first. With a press of the knees and a touch of thespur, Guy sent his pony at his hardest gallop. In less than ten minuteshe was close up to the herd. Suddenly reining up, and jumping from hisnag, he took aim at a huge old bull, carrying a pair of massive horns.The shot was a good one; and as the troop thundered on, the bull turnedaside, galloped on for another fifty yards, and stood.
"Baas, get on the horse again," whispered Poeskop, who had ridden upwith Guy's second rifle. "If he charges you on foot he'll catch you."
Guy looked at the grim beast, standing moodily waiting for his foes,with head down and eye askance, and thought the advice good. Jumping onto his pony again, he took the Martini rifle from Poeskop, handing himhis Mannlicher in return, and moved to the right to get a better shot atthe beast's shoulder.
Suddenly and without warning the bull charged, galloping down upon themat a pace that, considering its short legs and enormously massive frame,seemed little short of marvellous. The fleeing hunters, looking back asthey rode, saw the bull within twenty yards of their horses' tails.Would he catch them?
"_Pas op_ [look out]!" cried the Bushman, as they both turned and fled,digging their rowels into the flanks of their startled steeds. But thebeast was too sorely wounded to run far. The charge was a short one,and the buffalo, dripping blood from his distended nostrils and mouth,stood again. Again Guy approached, this time very warily. He walkedhis pony to within fifty paces of the bull, and then, getting a quickbut steady aim from his saddle, fired. As the loud report of the riflerattled out upon the hot air, the sturdy brute staggered, sank to theveldt, and, with the strange moaning bellow characteristic of theseanimals in their last moments, yielded up his breath.
Guy rode up to the dead bull, and gazed with interest upon its mightyproportions, and especially at its grand horns, so gnarled about thecentre as to remind him of the roots of some tough oak. They were,indeed, trophies to be proud of. Poeskop, who had ridden up, looking aspleased as Punch, was thinking of yet other feats.
"Baas," he said, his bleared eyes gleaming, "you must shoot a rhinoster.Look!" He pointed towards the river-bed, skirting along which two blackfigures were still plunging heavily.
"Yes, Poeskop, of course," replied Guy; "the rhinoster, by all means.Come along; forrard on! I'll keep the Martini for the present."
Once more they set their ponies at the gallop, and rapidly overhauledthe two black figures ahead of them. Far to their left front, the herdof wildebeest were vanishing into the heart of the great plain; thebuffaloes had sheered away yet more to the left, and were standing atgaze a quarter of a mile away, evidently meditating a rush for thecoveted shelter of the river bush. Galloping on, the hunters werepresently within a quarter of a mile of the rhinos, which, consideringtheir gigantic size and unwieldy shape, moved at an astonishingly fastpace. Now the two beasts swerved suddenly to the right hand, and werepresently lost to view among the rive
r jungle. As Guy and the Bushmanapproached the place where the animals had disappeared, Poeskopwhispered,--
"They stand somewhere in there, baas. You must look out, for therhinoster is a nasty-tempered fellow, and they may go for us."
They turned, and rode very quietly into the bush. After two hundredyards of spooring, they were about to emerge from the denser thicketsinto an open glade, when Poeskop, who was leading, lifted up his righthand. Guy peered from behind their screen of shrubbery, and saw one ofthe two rhinoceroses standing facing their way. It was evidentlyscenting the air for danger, and listening intently; its huge misshapenhead, garnished, as Guy noted, with a magnificent fore-horn, turningswiftly from side to side, as if peering this way and that. Guy knewfrom his uncle what poor sight these creatures have, and, dismounting,crept round to obtain a fairer and a closer shot. Poeskop meanwhileremained with the horses. Guy succeeded admirably in his stalk, andgetting within thirty paces of the monster, let drive for its heart.The Martini bullet clapped loudly as it struck the animal's thick hide;and upon the instant, the infuriated beast, snorting like asteam-engine, charged for the smoke of the rifle.
Guy had jumped aside behind a tree and reloaded. So quick was the chargethat the monster had vanished into the dense bush almost before itsassailant had realized that it was past him. He ran for his pony, andmet Poeskop bringing the nag to meet him.
"He's turned, baas, and gone up wind again," said the Bushman. "We willfollow him up; but you must keep a sharp lookout."
They took the blood spoor, and went on for about a mile, and thencrossed another opening in the bush. Suddenly, without a sound ofwarning, the rhinoceros started from a clump of thorn scrub in theirfront, and came straight for them. Poeskop's horse whipped smartlyround, and took its rider soon out of danger. Not so Guy's mount, whichseemed for some seconds paralyzed with fear, and stood rooted in itstracks, staring at the approaching monster. By dint of a violent wrenchof the bridle, and fierce spurring, Guy got the affrighted pony's headround. It moved at last. It was too late, however; the rhinoceros,snorting loudly, was upon them. Guy, looking backward out of the tailof his eye, caught a glimpse of a huge, pig-like head and a massivefore-horn close to his pony's flank, and then he was hoisted into theair. There was a violent crash, and he remembered no more.
When he came to himself he was lying on the ground, his head supportedby a saddle, and Poeskop looking anxiously into his face.
"That's better, my baas," said the little Bushman cheerfully. "Now youwill soon be your own man again. Here, drink some more of this."
Guy drank from a flask of brandy, which Poeskop put to his lips, andfelt better. His mind and recollection came back to him.
"What's happened?" he asked.
"Take another soupje, and I'll tell you," replied Poeskop. The lad didas he was told, and then the Bushman went on. "Well, what happened wasthis," he said. "That rhinoster caught you, and just ran his hornthrough your horse, and threw you both over his head. I caught sight ofyou flying through the air, and I thought, Well, Baas Guy is done for,and his hunting has soon come to an end."
"Not quite yet, Poeskop," returned Guy, a smile flitting over his whiteface. "I feel better already. Here, help me to sit up."
Poeskop lifted him up, and propped him in a sitting posture.
"Why!" exclaimed the lad, rubbing his eyes, and looking at his pony,which lay near, "there's Bantam--dead!"
"Yes, baas," added the Bushman. "Bantam is dead. The rhinoster's hornran right through his lungs and heart, and I saw he was dying, and put abullet into him to hasten his end and save him suffering. He was afool, and might easily have escaped. As it was, he nearly did for youas well as himself by his stupidity. It's a pity. He was a right goodpony, and could gallop like a springbuck."
"Poor Bantam!" groaned Guy, "what an untimely end. He was a duffer tobehave as he did, but I shall miss him badly. What's happened to therhinoceros, Poeskop?"
"He is dead, too," said the Bushman. "That was his last charge. Helies in the bush yonder, two hundred yards away. Now you must rest herewhile I make a fire and get some food for you. Baas Blakeney will seethe smoke presently, and will come this way in search of us. Let me seeif you can get to your feet, and you shall rest against yonder tree."
Guy, who was already feeling much better, rose to his feet with the aidof the Bushman's hand. He felt strangely stiff and sore and muchshaken, but he had no broken bones, and his severest injury, beyond theshock of the fall, was a sprained thumb.
"On the whole, Poeskop," he said, as he sat down against a tree, "Ithink I got off rattling well. A toss from a rhinoster isn't anevery-day sort of a business, is it?"
"No," returned the Bushman, grinning hugely, "it isn't. I have knowntwo men tossed by rhinosters, and they were both dead men after it. Butyou are born to be lucky as well as rich. I saw it in your face whenfirst I set eyes on you. You will be a great hunter, and have alreadymade a first-class beginning. But you must beware of three things in thehunting veldt--a wounded buffalo, a wounded rhinoceros, and a hungrylion on a dark or stormy night. The last is the worst of all, andnothing, neither guns nor fires nor thorn kraal, will stop him."
So talking to his young master, Poeskop busied himself in making a bigfire and getting some food out of the saddle-bags. Guy having eatensome bread and meat, and drunk a little more brandy and water, feltvastly stronger. Poeskop now set to work, and with a light nativehatchet chopped the horns from the snout of the dead rhinoceros. Then,taking some of the flesh, he made a neat bundle against the coming ofthe other hunters. By three o'clock Mr. Blakeney and Tom had ridden upand learned the story of Guy's adventure.