NIGHT IN THE WILDERNESS--THE LIONS ROAR--THE SAVAGE OUTWITTED BY A
LION--THE PARTY TAKE UP A GOOD POSITION.
There are few more singular experiences to the civilised man than to
camp in the wilderness; and there are now but few countries in the world
where such an event can occur. Man has now spread so widely over our
planet, that but few spots can be found in the state in which nature
framed them. To find any spot so far removed from the residence of man
that no sound can reach it which is indicative of a human being, is
indeed a rarity. The distant bark of a dog, the tinkle of a bell, the
bleating of a sheep, or the sound of a signal gun, can all be heard on a
still night for many miles. Thus, when we say that to experience the
full effects of a night in the wilderness, we should be at least forty
or fifty miles from any residence of human beings, and in a country
where the wild animals are as yet no more than partially thinned by the
occasional visits of hunters, probably Africa alone of all the
continents yields to the hunter the thorough wilderness, with its
attendant thrilling additions. India is generally too much populated:
America somewhat destitute of numerous members of the ferae which abound
in Africa. Europe is the land of men and cities, and thus we return to
Africa as the true hunter's paradise.
Scarcely has the sun disappeared below the African horizon, than the
hunter realises the novelty of his position in the wilderness; for a
space of nearly half an hour the air vibrates with the sharp
cricket-like cry, or deep hum of hundreds of insect creatures who are
thus signalling their presence to each other. From amidst a lofty
ruined mass of rocks, which appeared by day deserted by every living
creature, except a few lizards and poisonous snakes, a grim gaunt figure
stalks out, and ascending a prominent block of stone, gazes around at
the domain over which darkness has again given it dominion. Man may by
day be monarch of the hill-side and plain, but by night the lion may
well be called monarch of all he surveys. From the dimly-seen,
statue-like figure on the rock, a few deep, dissatisfied growls come
rolling over the plain, strike the face of the rock, and echo back again
in confused murmurs, evincing the power of the mighty beast who thus,
with no apparent effort, speaks to all within a range of several miles.
From a far-distant and woody ravine, a fiend-like yell next breaks the
silence of the night, and is followed by a deep-drawn, howling sigh, as
the strand wolf wanders forth to search for the carrion of the day, or
to capture such prey as he is capable of doing. Busy, silent-moving
forms glide past the hunter, and, with a snort of terror or a growl of
anger, move away to the distance, scarce liking to let alone so
apparently defenceless a creature as man seems to be, yet awed by a
certain presence which the brute creation never thoroughly overcome.
Tiny creeping animals again crackle the crisp leaves as they scamper
about in their fastnesses among the bushes, and sniff the scent of the
strange intruder; whilst the noiseless flapping of wings attracts for an
instant the hunter's sight as some ghost-like moving night-bird flies
around him, and examines the strange being that has intruded into its
domain.
Suddenly the sound of a struggle startles the hunter, and a cry of
distress from a stricken creature is audible, whilst frightened animals
rush hither and thither for a time, and then again relapse into their
former indifference. A lion, perhaps, has captured its evening prey
from amongst a grazing herd; or a leopard has struck down the antelope
that it has been cautiously watching and stalking during the past
half-hour. And then again a silence so still, so unbroken, follows the
past turmoil, that the desert wanderer fancies he can hear the thin,
fleecy clouds moving above him, or the long-absent but deeply-loved
voice of one who should be near him. Amidst all the danger, all the
novelty of the scene, however, exhausted nature usually exerts her sway,
and the hyena's laugh or leopard's cry ceases to be heard, whilst the
traveller passes into the unconsciousness of sleep, and dreams probably
of scenes the very opposite of those amidst which he then is, and
awakes, scarcely knowing which is the reality--the dream of old,
well-known scenes, amidst which the greater part of his life has been
passed, or the wild, unusual events transpiring around him.
To men of adventure such as Hans and his companions, a night in the
desert was not unusual, and they experienced but few of the sensations
which a more civilised man undoubtedly would feel; yet to these hunters
there was something awe-inspiring in the calm stillness of the night,
broken only by the shrieks and cries of night wanderers among the wild
animals, or the snorts of terror from their horses as these sounds met
their ears.
It was past midnight when Hans commenced his watch, and was the only one
of the five who was awake. The sisters were sheltered from the dew by a
blanket supported by two or three sticks, and arranged so as to form a
kind of tent. The two Dutchmen were lying beneath some bushes with
merely the blanket over them that served during the day to protect their
horses' backs from a badly-stuffed saddle.
Although Hans believed that any attack from an enemy was unlikely, yet,
being a man who knew the value of guarding against every possible, not
every likely danger only, he placed himself within a few yards of
Katrine and her sister, and there listened attentively to every sound
that broke the silence of the night.
When darkness spreads her mantle over the earth it is by sound alone
that an enemy can be discovered; for sight is then useless, and a man
who has thoroughly trained his hearing can distinguish sounds which are
inaudible and unintelligible to the mere tyro. To the ears of Hans the
tread of an animal with a hoof would have been recognised from that of a
soft-footed animal, such as a lion or leopard, and the footsteps of a
man could have been distinguished from those of a quadruped. It is
almost impossible for the civilised man to realise the acuteness of the
senses of one accustomed to trust his life to his senses, the sight,
hearing, and even scent seem to become added to in power, and in fact to
have an additional sense given to each. We all know how we can readily
distinguish the footstep of some particular friend from that of a
stranger, though how we do so it would puzzle us to explain; but thus it
is that the trained hunter can instantly decide that a hyaena or
antelope is walking past him, that a man is near, or that some other
animal is moving in his vicinity.
It was with mingled feelings of surprise and half-doubt that Hans heard
what he was confident was the footstep of a man soon after he had taken
his position near Katrine. For several minutes not a sound disturbed
the stillness of the night except the somewhat heavy breathing of the
sleepers; this, however, was a source of great danger. To the acute
ears of a lion, or even of a Kaffir, this heavy breathing could have
been heard at a distance of several yards, and could thus serve as a
guide to either dangerous enemy. Hans, however, did not like to disturb
the sleepers until the last moment, or unless he found he alone was
unable to deal with the foe. It was evident to Hans that whoever or
whatever was the foe who approached, it was one who used the greatest
caution: but two or three steps at a time were taken, and then all was
quiet. From this fact Hans was convinced that a man was the enemy who
was near him, for no other creature could act with so much caution. He
was also aware of the peculiar individual daring of members of the
Kaffir race. Many men are brave in a crowd, and when led on by example
or enthusiasm, but the Kaffir is an epicure in excitement. He likes to
venture upon feats of daring alone, and the night is to him the most
suitable time for such deeds. It matters not how great is the risk, the
greater the risk the greater seems to be the excitement. Knowing this,
Hans believed it possible that one single Kaffir might have followed on
their spoor, have watched him as he halted for the night, and was now
desirous of capturing his guns or assagying some of the sleepers, and
then retreating, boast at his kraal of his deeds. Believing this, Hans
had an additional reason for remaining silent, for he knew that should
he awake his companions, the Kaffir would readily escape, or wait for a
more favourable opportunity for attack.
Grasping his hunting-knife firmly, Hans crouched close to the ground and
waited anxiously for the nearer approach of his foe. The slow, stealthy
tread of the man was evidently guided by the sound of the sleepers, for
no eyes could distinguish forms amidst the darkness, and Hans soon found
that light as was the breathing of Katrine and her sister, yet this
sound was guiding the man towards them.
For several minutes Hans could hear no sound, and he began to fancy the
man feared to approach nearer, but at length to his surprise and almost
fear, he could distinguish within ten feet of him the figure of a man
with arm erect, and in his hand a spear ready to cast. The figure
seemed to have risen out of the earth, so silently had it gained its
position in the midst of the party; and had not a man as well-trained
and as keenly sensed as Hans been on watch, a complete surprise could
have been effected.
With a movement as slow and cautious as that of the Kaffir, Hans
gathered himself together for a spring on his enemy, who stood listening
to the sleepers' long-drawn breaths, then with a sudden bound he dashed
forward, and stabbed with his long knife at where he believed he would
reach the Kaffir. He had however either miscalculated his distance, or
his enemy was too quick for him, for nothing resisted his stabs, and he
fell headlong to the ground, having stumbled over the underwood before
him. In an instant he was on his feet again, and crouched down to catch
sight if possible of his foe, but nothing was to be seen, and had it not
been for a slight rustling of the leaves and the crushing of a few
sticks, he would have doubted whether his eyes had not been deceived.
These sounds, however, would have convinced him, had he been in doubt,
that no vision had crossed his sight, but a substantial and quick-witted
enemy; and thus when Victor and Bernhard, awakened by the noise made by
Hans' fall, inquired what was the matter, he was able to whisper in
reply, "A single Matabili has tried to becroup us as we slept."
"Where is he?" said Victor: "has he escaped?"
Before Hans could reply, a sound struck upon the ears of the three men
which caused them to grasp their rifles with firmness, whilst the two
girls started up with a shriek of terror. This noise was the savage
roar of a lion, followed by the agonised yell of a human being in fear
and suffering, a momentary struggle, the cracking of some brittle
substance, and then the deep, guttural, satisfied grunts of a monster
which has captured its prey.
"The Matabili is killed by a man-eater," whispered Hans; "and perhaps he
has saved one of us. I believed I smelt a lion some two hours ago, and
perhaps he has been crouching near us, watching for one of us."
"Katie, dear," exclaimed Hans, "don't be afraid. There is no danger:
keep quiet, and lie and rest, and, if you can, sleep. We need not start
for two hours yet."
"What was that fearful noise, Hans? I dreamed you were killed."
"No, Katie, I am well, thank God, and ready to do good service yet: it
was only some wild animal made a noise; but trust us three to keep you
safe. Don't talk, dear, but try and sleep, at least keep quiet; for a
human voice in this place is so unusual, that even the bats will come
and look at us if they hear it. Sleep again, Katie, all is safe."
"We must all keep awake now," Hans whispered to his companions: "that
lion may attract others. Let us sit back to back, and let no man speak
without a cause, and then let it be in the lowest whisper: our lives and
those of the poor girls depend now upon such apparent trifles as these."
The three men sat back to back, and thus each had one-third of the
horizon to examine, so that no enemy could approach from any direction
where a pair of eyes were not on watch. The night was a still and clear
one, and sounds were audible from a considerable distance; near them,
however, were noises which kept these hardy hunters in a state of
excitement. The lion having captured its prey, had dragged it but a few
yards, and had then commenced feasting on it. The sound of the powerful
brute's jaws was distinctly heard as it crunched the bones of its
victim, and when at length it had satisfied its hunger, and seemed to
have retired a short distance to sleep, other and smaller carnivora
squabbled over the remains of the monarch's feast, and with even more
noise fought for their supper.
The poor half-starved horses were carefully hobbled and made fast to
each other and to the bushes near, and thus could not escape. Their
snorting and uneasiness showed that they were well aware of the presence
of their formidable enemy; but the feeble state to which they were
reduced caused them to seem almost indifferent to dangers which at other
times would have rendered them almost frantic.
After a long silence and most intent listening had convinced the hunters
that no immediate danger threatened them, Hans, speaking in a whisper,
said--
"That lion must have been stalking our horses when the Matabili came in
his way. I wonder was there another man with this one? they often
venture alone on these risky journeys. This man, however, will never
hunt again in these fields."
"It is strange that he should have been thus trapped by a lion whilst
trying to stalk us," whispered Victor: "it is the first time I ever
found a lion to be my friend, but he has saved us powder and shot. Tell
us, Hans, how the man approached us."
Hans gave a brief description of the manner in which he had heard the
man approaching, and of his precautions to prevent an accident, and
explained all details until the roar of the lion announced the
unexpected termination of the Matabili's expedition.
"The morning will soon break now," said Hans; "the Eastern sky is
getting lighter; it will be an anxious moment to see how the horses are,
for on them mainly depends our safety. How far, think you, are we from
our people?"
"We shall take three days' riding at least to reach them, I think," said
Bernhard.
"Yes, quite that," said Victor, "and more too, if there are enemies in
the way, for then we may have to ride round."
"There is light enough now to look about us; so let us examine the
horses, and allow them to feed if they will," said Hans; "we shall want
all their strength."
The three men arose, and stretching themselves after their somewhat
cramped positions, examined their horses, which were standing quietly
near. To the experienced eyes of the hunters, these animals presented a
very pitiable condition. Out of the five horses one only seemed lively,
and inclined to eat; the remaining four, with hanging heads, lustreless
eyes, and drooping ears, seemed indifferent to all around them. A look
of despair was exchanged by the three men, as this fact was presented to
them.
"In a few hours we shall have but one horse," exclaimed Hans; "strong as
Katie is, her sister is weak, and they can never walk to our people. If
the Matabili follow us, we must die. Can you see a remedy, men?"
"We can sell our lives dearly," exclaimed Bernhard; "that we can at
least do. I have thirty bullets at least in my pouch, and in my horn
thirty charges of powder. We may beat off a large party of the enemy."
"The Matabili are not easily beaten off," remarked Hans: "they rush on
in a body, and though you may kill some, the others are upon you before
you can have time to load. If we could have some of those
many-barrelled guns that I have heard of which fire off several times
one after the other, we could do nothing but kill more before we were
killed; but with our roers only, we can do but little."
Whilst the men were thus talking in the twilight, Katie and her sister,
fully awake, joined them before their presence was known; and hearing
this last remark, the quick-witted girl at once suspected that the
horses were unfit to continue their journey.
"We can walk, Hans," said Katrine, as she touched his shoulder, "we can
walk, though, perhaps, not so fast as you can; but we can walk ever so
far."
"If it were walking only, Katie, it would not be much; but it may be we
should have to run, and that at a greater speed than a Matabili could
follow; that is why I fear."
"Well, leave us here, and you go on, and bring us back help. The
`_Mensch_' will soon come to us, and we could stop here till they
arrive."
"We live or die together, Katie; I will never leave you here," exclaimed
Hans. "But there is something to be thought of, though. Victor and
Bernhard, let me tell you my plan."
The two men turned from the horses, whose pitiable condition they had
been contemplating, to Hans, and waited for his words. After a moment's
thought, Hans exclaimed, "It is our best chance, and it will succeed.
This is the plan:--The black horse is as yet well. You Bernhard, or you
Victor, as you may choose, upsaddle at once, and ride for our lager. As
soon as you reach it, tell Maritz, or any one who is our friend, of our
being left in the desert. I have horses among the people, and there are
those who will help us. Come back with help and with horses, and we
will get safe again among our people."
"And where will you be, Hans?" was Victor's inquiry.
"I," said Hans, "will move on to that range of hills; there are kloofs
and rocks there amidst which I can easily find a place of security for
Katie and her sister; for the rest trust a hunter. They shall neither
starve nor be made prisoners whilst I live. So now, which of you will
go? it is the post of danger to go as much as to remain. You, Bernhard,
are the lightest man, and ought thus to ride fastest. In six days you
should be back, and by that time we shall be accustomed to a rough
life."
"If Victor agrees to this, I will go," said Bernhard; "and the sooner I
go the better: first, though, shall we shoot the lion that killed the
Kaffir? otherwise he might be an unpleasant neighbour to you, as he has
tasted human flesh."
"We had better let him stand," said Hans: "a shot fired here now might
be heard on this still day twenty miles. We need not tell every pair of
ears within twenty miles that white men are about, for then, perhaps, we
might have curious eyes coming to look at us; besides, the lion may be
useful to us again."
"How?" exclaimed the two hunters; "not in killing another Matabili?"
"No," said Hans; "but the sooner our horses are eaten the better. The
vultures will be streaming in this direction very shortly, and as long
as a scrap of flesh is on the bones of the animals the _vogels_ will be
hovering around this spot. A Matabili would naturally come to see what
was dead here, and might find our spoor; so, instead of one, I wish
there were twenty lions ready to feast on our horses. I have no fear of
lions when I get to those hills, for I will soon make a place there
suitable for our safety. So we had better save our powder and bullets
for even more cruel enemies than a lion."
"That is true," exclaimed Hans' two companions: "so we will not seek to
kill him. Let us look at the spot where he struck down the Matabili."
The three hunters walked cautiously in the direction in which the lion
might be yet concealed, and examined every bush and patch of grass
around them. The footprints of the Matabili could be easily traced by
these expert spoorers, and they soon found the spot on which the man had
been killed. The lion had apparently followed the man from the
direction of the hunters, and had struck him down at once, the assagies
of the savage being found in a cluster, as though dropped from the
helpless hand of the stricken man; the body had then been dragged away
about forty yards to some long grass, where the lion had commenced his
feast, which had been finished by hyenas and jackalls; so that except a
few bones, nothing remained to indicate that a human being had been,
sacrificed to the fury of a wild beast. "This might have been the fate
of one of us," said Hans, as he pointed to the few remains before him.
"It is the will of God to have spared us, and to have destroyed our
enemy. We will trust that our fate may not be like his. We had better
return now and make our arrangements at once. We will conceal the
saddles and bridles, and then they may be of use if you bring spare
horses. So now for work, men, and you, Bernhard, had better ride on.
You will not mistake your way, will you?"
"No. I shall find the line easy, and my only fear is whether the horse
will carry me. I will bring you help, and that very shortly, or my life
will be lost in the attempt--trust me, Hans;" and with a hearty farewell
to the party, Bernhard rode off, on an expedition fraught with no little
danger, for he had pathless plains to traverse, rivers to cross,
mountain-ranges to find a pass through, and all this with the constant
possibility of enemies around him, who would follow him till a chance
occurred of taking him at a disadvantage.