The Chief presently left me, as he, too, had to take up his station. He
begged me to keep myself hidden, as a premature exposure might easily
spoil the entire drive.
I lay flat on the ant-heap, looking through a small gap which I made in
the tall grass which crowned it. I could see admirably, but could not be
seen.
It was a long time before I could discern any movement, even at the
mouth of the funnel. I could hear the cries of the beaters as they
approached, faintly at first, then a hum, then a roar.
Presently I saw a single reed-buck ram pacing very slowly towards the
concealed assegais. From time to time he stopped, stamped, sniffed and
whistled, scenting danger. What became of him, I don't know. I lost
sight of him.
Looking through my glasses towards the entrance of the funnel again, I
saw a sight which made me gasp. Although the most distant beaters had
not yet appeared, a huge herd of Lechwe seemed literally to block the
funnel and were trotting steadily down it. Half way they stopped. A fine
ram turned and walked towards the left-hand wall. A man stood up and the
antelope turned in the direction of the opposite wall; he went at a trot
again and the immense herd followed him. When within twenty yards of the
palmleaf tape, some dozen men stood up. All the antelope but the ram
stopped. He, fine fellow that he was, made a bold bid for liberty. He
dashed on, gathered himself together, and cleared the fence. One of the
men in a canoe made a movement. It was too far off to see anything
clearly, but as the Lechwe landed in a heap, I realised that he had been
transfixed in mid-air by one of those heavy hunting assegais.
The herd was not leaderless for long. Another ram forged ahead and
trotted straight towards the narrow end of the funnel. Immediately every
man sat down. It was clear that these hunters had been very well
drilled.
After moving rapidly for a hundred yards the Lechwe came to a halt. They
were not as yet frightened, but highly suspicious.
First, they turned at a walk towards the right-hand wall: a man stood
up. They moved across to the left: the first man sat down and his
opposite number stood up. The antelope broke into a trot. After heading
to the right again for a little way, some hundreds broke back, and this,
I think, is where the mistake was made, for, instead of leaving them to
the beaters, who were approaching, driving many more herds of Lechwe
before them, man after man stood up, shouting and waving their arms
wildly.
This had the effect of breaking up the whole of the antelope formation.
They dashed here and there, thoroughly frightened; some broke through
the wall, some cleared it, some dashed right back, and others came on
towards the trap.
I watched these last. There were several hundred of them. They came
along at a very fast trot, the rams with their heads forward, noses up,
and horns lying along their backs. A ram led. He struck one of the
hidden pikes full with his chest and gave a mighty leap into the air,
bleeding from a terrible wound in the brisket. He landed on the point of
another pike and bounded up from it, his entrails dragging behind him.
Much weakened, he leaped and leaped again until, completely
disembowelled, he fell and lay still.
There was no escape, the pikes were set so closely together: not a foot
apart. They reached right across the gap in the funnel and to the depth
of forty or fifty yards. I do not think a single one of this part of the
large herd escaped. For the space of two minutes they were dashing past
me and on to the hidden pikes. Every one was disembowelled before it
fell dead--rams, ewes, and young alike. It was a disgusting sight.
The natives were in a frenzy of excitement. No doubt their one idea was
to drive the Lechwe to the trap and in that they succeeded; but they
also drove a considerable part of the herd back upon the beaters, who
were pressing other herds before them. The confusion was complete.
Lechwe were dashing in all directions. Men were shouting and hurling
their assegais. A deafening roar rose from the beaters, now close in.
From time to time a score or so Lechwe dashed upon the pikes and added
to the slaughter.
I saw a Setutunga approach the pikes leisurely out of the confusion. He
lifted his feet high at every step, a habit bred of life in the papyrus
swamps. A native appeared from nowhere in particular and running him
down killed him with a club.
The drive was over.
That evening when I met the Chief he was still furious. Someone had
blundered and most of the Lechwe had escaped. Moreover, a man in a small
canoe, hurling his heavy assegai at a Lechwe, had missed the beast and
killed his brother. The Chief's own cook and several of his companions
had been mauled out in the plain by a leopard. No, the drive had not
been a success by any means.
I wondered what the bag would have been if all had gone well with the
Chief's plans. I had personally counted three hundred mutilated
carcasses, but, feeling sick, had given up the tally and returned to
camp.