up in a wild country, much wilder even than this, and I learned to know
every 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, and
theirs 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 funny
beasts--the cleverest and most quick-witted in the veldt. We Bushmen
have 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 that
lived in Namaqualand, not far from the sea. He saw one day a wagon
laden with fish; and as he was fond of fish, and wanted a change of
food, 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 ran
and lay in the road as if dead. He was a silver-backed jackal, and had
a beautiful skin; and the _fore-louper_ [ox-leader] came along and
picked him up, and said to the driver, 'Here's a fine jackal skin for
your vrouw!' 'Throw it up,' said the driver, and the boy threw the
jackal into the wagon. It was a fine night, just like this, and the
jackal busied himself in throwing the fish out of the wagon as far as he
was able, sniggering to himself as he did so. Then, presently, he
slipped 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 had
already found and eaten up most of the fish. Master Jackal thought a
little, and decided to hide his vexation, and then explained to the
hyaena his plan; and the hyaena said it was good, and he would try it
one of these days. So a little while after the hyaena saw the wagon
coming from the sea again, laden with fish, and, just as the jackal had
done, stretched himself out for dead on the road in front. The
fore-louper boy came up, and seeing a mangy hyaena said, 'Here's an ugly
brute!' As he said this, he dealt the hyaena a heavy kick. The hyaena
flinched, and the boy, smelling a rat, as you English say, ran back to
the wagon-driver and told him. The two returned with sticks, and
belaboured the hyaena within an inch of his life. But the hyaena, as he
had been told to do by the jackal, lay still till they had finished with
him. Then he got up, sore all over, and dragged himself off. He told
his 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, having
enjoyed a very pleasant revenge."
There was much laughter at this simple Bushman yarn.
"Poeskop," said Mr. Blakeney, "what part of the country do your people
come from, and what race are you?"
"Well, baas," returned the little man, "my people are San or hunting
Hottentots, and my clan is the Matsana Khoi-San, who lived once in the
country north-east of the Ovampo tribes. We say that our forefathers
were once paramount in all this country, from Ovampoland to the Orange
River. But we have had many wars and troubles, and have been hunted
about by stronger tribes, until there are few of us remaining. And so
we live in the deserts with the wild beasts, and pick up our living as
best 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 the
An-San, and others. They lead hard lives, and have many enemies. My
mother was taken by a lion one night, when I was a child, and my father
was killed soon after in a raid by the Ovampos. These people made a
slave 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 long
time, and he was a good master."
"How did you get your name, Poeskop?" queried Tom. "Did your father
give it you?"
"No, Baas Tom," said the Bushman. "That was given me by a Dutchman with
whom I worked for some time. He had been in the Old Colony, and knew
all about the coast. He said my face reminded him of a seafish called
poeskop, so he called me by that name, and it has stuck to me ever
since. My Bushman name was Akabip."
Poeskop pronounced this word with two appalling clicks of the tongue,
which Guy and Tom vainly tried to imitate. The little man went into
fits 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 to
retire by nine o'clock, often even earlier. Guy and Tom said
good-night, and betook themselves to the tent, in which stood their low
beds, constructed of iron and canvas. These folded up into wonderfully
small space, and were put away on the wagon each morning. The two lads
were at this time allowed to sleep the night through without being
disturbed. Mr. Blakeney, Jan Kokerboom, the driver, and Poeskop each
woke once in turn during the small hours, and saw to it that the fires
were kept up and the camp in safety. As Poeskop had predicted, they
were not disturbed by lions; and at dawn next morning the whole company
were awake and astir, vigorous and refreshed, and ready for the
adventures of another day.
Although they were now fairly in the land of big game, it was not part
of Mr. Blakeney's design to waste time by the way. Each day the wagon
was to trek steadily on under the guidance of Poeskop towards the
appointed goal, that mysterious kloof of gold of which they often talked
as they sat together round the camp fire. The wagon moved off after
breakfast, therefore, while Mr. Blakeney and the two boys, with
Poeskop--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 of
game grazing ahead of them, about a mile away in the distance, and
towards these they took their way.
Crossing the river which intersected the plain, and which at this the
dry season of the year held only a few pools of water here and there in
its sandy bed, the hunters rode on quietly till they came within half a
mile of the nearest troop. Mr. Blakeney took out his field-glass from
its case--this he carried slung over his shoulder--and surveyed the
prospect before them.
"That nearest troop, now getting fidgety," he said, "are tsesseby. It's
no use running them across this big flat. They're the fleetest of all
the antelopes, and stay for ever. Yonder are ostriches and Burchell's
zebra. 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 within
shot. But they may pull up when they get over the dip yonder, and give
you a chance. Now then, Tom, away we go."
Guy and Poeskop cantered quietly in the direction of the blue
wildebeest, a troop of some eighty of which were grazing quietly about a
mile and a half away. They approached without difficulty to within some
six hundred yards, and then, from the left of them, came the report of a
rifle, then another, and yet another. Already, then, Mr. Blakeney and
Tom were engaged! Guy looked in that direction, but could see no more
than the distant figures of his uncle and cousin scouring away after
some specks--the game they were pursuing--in front of them. He now
turned his attention to the wildebeest of which he was in pursuit. The
noise of the shooting had already disturbed them. Their heads were up,
scenting the air for danger, and those animals which had been lying down
had sprung to their feet. There was no time to be lost. "We must
_hart-loup_ [gallop]," said Poeskop quietly; and shaking up the willing
nags, the two dashed headlong for the game. Now, at last, the wildebeest
took real alarm. Bunching together in a big phalanx, plunging and
capering, and whisking their long black tails, the troop set off at what
looked 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, as
he galloped, watched the herd with intense interest. It was the first
time he had run blue wildebeest, or, as he had been accustomed to call
them in England, brindled gnu. Their big, heavy, somewhat buffalo-like
heads, carried low as they ran, and the masses of dark hair that covered
their necks, throats, and faces, gave them a cumbrous appearance; but
there was no mistake about the pace they went. They swept over the
grass plain as fast as the ponies could gallop, and they were evidently
not yet stretching themselves out. It was going to be a long and a
stern chase. Pursued and pursuers had run somewhat over a mile, still
bending towards the river, with its thick fringe of bush and low timber;
five hundred yards separated Guy from the nearest wildebeest. They were
stringing out now; it was useless to think of firing just yet; and then
a diversion happened.
Disturbed by the trample of four-score fleeing wildebeest, a troop of
buffalo, which had been resting in the shade of the river bush, suddenly
emerged from their concealment and began to run up wind, taking very
much the course of the retreating gnu. They had not gone a hundred
yards when there burst from the seclusion of the river greenery, just in
advance of them, two huge, unwieldy figures. It needed not Poeskop's
excited exclamation of "Rhinoster, baas!" to convince Guy that he now
saw before him a brace of rhinoceroses, as well as buffaloes and blue
wildebeest. It was a thrilling moment; and the lad, with blithe
countenance and the light of supreme joy--the wild joy of the hunter--in
his blue eyes, shook up his good pony to yet a faster pace. The blue
wildebeest were neglected now; which should he first go for, the
buffaloes or the rhinoceroses? His mind was instantly made up. The
buffaloes were nearest, no more than two hundred yards away; he would
have a try at them first. With a press of the knees and a touch of the
spur, Guy sent his pony at his hardest gallop. In less than ten minutes
he was close up to the herd. Suddenly reining up, and jumping from his
nag, 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 turned
aside, galloped on for another fifty yards, and stood.
"Baas, get on the horse again," whispered Poeskop, who had ridden up
with 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 on
to his pony again, he took the Martini rifle from Poeskop, handing him
his Mannlicher in return, and moved to the right to get a better shot at
the beast's shoulder.
Suddenly and without warning the bull charged, galloping down upon them
at a pace that, considering its short legs and enormously massive frame,
seemed little short of marvellous. The fleeing hunters, looking back as
they 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 the
beast 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 walked
his pony to within fifty paces of the bull, and then, getting a quick
but steady aim from his saddle, fired. As the loud report of the rifle
rattled out upon the hot air, the sturdy brute staggered, sank to the
veldt, and, with the strange moaning bellow characteristic of these
animals in their last moments, yielded up his breath.
Guy rode up to the dead bull, and gazed with interest upon its mighty
proportions, and especially at its grand horns, so gnarled about the
centre 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 as
pleased 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 black
figures 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 overhauled
the two black figures ahead of them. Far to their left front, the herd
of wildebeest were vanishing into the heart of the great plain; the
buffaloes had sheered away yet more to the left, and were standing at
gaze a quarter of a mile away, evidently meditating a rush for the
coveted shelter of the river bush. Galloping on, the hunters were
presently within a quarter of a mile of the rhinos, which, considering
their gigantic size and unwieldy shape, moved at an astonishingly fast
pace. Now the two beasts swerved suddenly to the right hand, and were
presently lost to view among the river jungle. As Guy and the Bushman
approached the place where the animals had disappeared, Poeskop
whispered,--
"They stand somewhere in there, baas. You must look out, for the
rhinoster is a nasty-tempered fellow, and they may go for us."
They turned, and rode very quietly into the bush. After two hundred
yards of spooring, they were about to emerge from the denser thickets
into an open glade, when Poeskop, who was leading, lifted up his right
hand. Guy peered from behind their screen of shrubbery, and saw one of
the two rhinoceroses standing facing their way. It was evidently
scenting the air for danger, and listening intently; its huge misshapen
head, garnished, as Guy noted, with a magnificent fore-horn, turning
swiftly from side to side, as if peering this way and that. Guy knew
from his uncle what poor sight these creatures have, and, dismounting,
crept round to obtain a fairer and a closer shot. Poeskop meanwhile
remained with the horses. Guy succeeded admirably in his stalk, and
getting 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 a
steam-engine, charged for the smoke of the rifle.
Guy had jumped aside behind a tree and reloaded. So quick was the charge
that the monster had vanished into the dense bush almost before its
assailant had realized that it was past him. He ran for his pony, and
met Poeskop bringing the nag to meet him.
"He's turned, baas, and gone up wind again," said the Bushman. "We will
follow him up; but you must keep a sharp lookout."
They took the blood spoor, and went on for about a mile, and then
crossed another opening in the bush. Suddenly, without a sound of
warning, the rhinoceros started from a clump of thorn scrub in their
front, and came straight for them. Poeskop's horse whipped smartly
round, and took its rider soon out of danger. Not so Guy's mount, which
seemed for some seconds paralyzed with fear, and stood rooted in its
tracks, staring at the approaching monster. By dint of a violent wrench
of the bridle, and fierce spurring, Guy got the affrighted pony's head
round. It moved at last. It was too late, however; the rhinoceros,
snorting loudly, was upon them. Guy, looking backward out of the tail
of his eye, caught a glimpse of a huge, pig-like head and a massive
fore-horn close to his pony's flank, and then he was hoisted into the
air. There was a violent crash, and he remembered no more.
When he came to himself he was lying on the ground, his head supported
by a saddle, and Poeskop looking anxiously into his face.
"That's better, my baas," said the little Bushman cheerfully. "Now you
will 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, and
felt 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 did
as he was told, and then the Bushman went on. "Well, what happened was
this," he said. "That rhinoster caught you, and just ran his horn
through your horse, and threw you both over his head. I caught sight of
you 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 white
face. "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 horn
ran right through his lungs and heart, and I saw he was dying, and put a
bullet into him to hasten his end and save him suffering. He was a
fool, and might easily have escaped. As it was, he nearly did for you
as well as himself by his stupidity. It's a pity. He was a right good
pony, and could gallop like a springbuck."
"Poor Bantam!" groaned Guy, "what an untimely end. He was a duffer to
behave as he did, but I shall miss him badly. What's happened to the
rhinoceros, Poeskop?"
"He is dead, too," said the Bushman. "That was his last charge. He
lies in the bush yonder, two hundred yards away. Now you must rest here
while I make a fire and get some food for you. Baas Blakeney will see
the smoke presently, and will come this way in search of us. Let me see
if 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 aid
of the Bushman's hand. He felt strangely stiff and sore and much
shaken, but he had no broken bones, and his severest injury, beyond the
shock of the fall, was a sprained thumb.
"On the whole, Poeskop," he said, as he sat down against a tree, "I
think I got off rattling well. A toss from a rhinoster isn't an
every-day sort of a business, is it?"
"No," returned the Bushman, grinning hugely, "it isn't. I have known
two men tossed by rhinosters, and they were both dead men after it. But
you are born to be lucky as well as rich. I saw it in your face when
first I set eyes on you. You will be a great hunter, and have already
made a first-class beginning. But you must beware of three things in the
hunting veldt--a wounded buffalo, a wounded rhinoceros, and a hungry
lion on a dark or stormy night. The last is the worst of all, and
nothing, neither guns nor fires nor thorn kraal, will stop him."
So talking to his young master, Poeskop busied himself in making a big
fire and getting some food out of the saddle-bags. Guy having eaten
some bread and meat, and drunk a little more brandy and water, felt
vastly stronger. Poeskop now set to work, and with a light native
hatchet chopped the horns from the snout of the dead rhinoceros. Then,
taking some of the flesh, he made a neat bundle against the coming of
the other hunters. By three o'clock Mr. Blakeney and Tom had ridden up
and learned the story of Guy's adventure.
*Chapter VIII.*
*THE ELEPHANT COUNTRY.*
"It's a bad job," said Mr. Blakeney, after hearing the news, "but it
might have been worse. The pony is a loss, it is true; but I'm heartily
glad you got through with so little damage, Guy. The fact is, I never
imagined we were going to encounter rhinoceros so soon. I should never
have forgiven myself if anything had happened to you. You must go
steady, my lad, and don't be too adventurous. And in future, as we are
likely to tackle rhinoceros and elephant, it will be better to have
always in reserve a heavier gun, the double .500 or the eight-bore
'Paradox,' for a second shot. Poeskop, or whoever is with you two boys
as after-rider, can carry it for you. Few beasts, not even rhinos, or
elephant, or buffalo, can stand up against the smashing blow dealt by
such a bullet. Still, these are heavy guns, and kick a good bit, and
you needn't use them except in case of emergency, to turn a charge or
stagger an animal at close quarters." As for Tom, he was so much
overjoyed by Guy's supreme feat in slaying a rhinoceros, that he felt he
would gladly have accepted the risk of that adventure, even to the
extent of being tossed bodily into the air--horse, foot, and artillery.
The wagon came along presently, and they loaded up the trophies, and
some meat from the buffalo and rhinoceros. Then they moved across the
plain, making a long trek far into the evening before they outspanned
for the night. Next day, after a rather restless and uncomfortable
night, Guy felt far too stiff and sore from his fall to sit a horse. He
remained with the wagon, therefore, taking things easily, and amusing
himself by skinning half a dozen birds which Tom and Mr. Blakeney had
recently shot. These included several very interesting species. First,
there was a most lovely roller, a bird usually known to South African
colonists as a blue jay. This, as Guy discovered by looking up the
species in "Layard's Birds of South Africa," a most valuable book for
the bird collector, turned out to be the lilac-breasted roller
(_Coracias caudata_), a bird more than ordinarily remarkable, even in a
country thronging with brilliant birds, for the beauties of its plumage.
The upper colouring was a ferruginous green, the reddish hue showing
most strongly on the back; the under parts were pale, bluish green, as
were the tail feathers; the rump was bright blue, the lilac breast
touched with streaks of white and rufous, the forehead and chin buff.
At each outer edge of the blue-green tail feathers there extended a
single long feather of dark, blackish green. These are much sought
after by certain native chiefs, of whom one was the redoubted
Moselikatse, father of Lobengula, king of the Matabele. For this reason
this roller is known as Moselikatse's bird.
Having finished with this handsome species, which is about the size of
our English jay, Guy took next in hand a perfect little gem of a
feathered creature--one of the curious bee-eaters, known to naturalists
as _Merops bullockoides_. The upper colouring of this diminutive bird
was a light green, the rump and vent blue, the throat a brilliant
scarlet, the front, chin, and moustache white, with a greenish tint.
The back of the head was rufous. These tiny creatures, which in the
wonders of their colouring remind their captors of the glorious
humming-birds, take their names from their family habit of devouring
bees. They have longish bills, and, seizing the bee deftly across the
body, give it a sharp squeeze and swallow it. There are various kinds
to be found in Africa, all distinguished by most beautiful colouring.
One species, the European bee-eater (_Merops apiaster_), passes to and
fro between South Africa and South Europe. In the former country it
exists largely on a red wasp, of which it seems particularly fond. All
these little creatures, none of which measure more than eight or ten
inches in length, including a tail of four to five and a half inches,
are fond of water, and are often to be seen flitting after their prey
over some deep river pool or quiet lagoon.