THE CLOSING CHAPTER.
After many days of difficult navigation the balza floated upon the broad
and mighty Amazon, whose yellowish-olive flood flowed yet fifteen
hundred miles farther to the Atlantic Ocean.
The current was in most places over four miles an hour, and the
navigation smooth and easy--so that our travellers rarely made less than
fifty miles a-day. There was considerable monotony in the landscape, on
account of the absence of mountains, as the Amazon, through most of its
course, runs through a level plain. The numerous bends and sudden
windings of the stream, however, continually opening out into new and
charming vistas, and the ever-changing variety of vegetation, formed
sources of delight to the travellers.
Almost every day they passed the mouth of some tributary river--many of
these appearing as large as the Amazon itself. Our travellers were
struck with a peculiarity in relation to these rivers--that is, their
variety of colour. Some were whitish, with a tinge of olive, like the
Amazon itself; others were blue and transparent; while a third kind had
waters as black as ink. Of the latter class is the great river of the
Rio Negro--which by means of a tributary (the Cassiquiare) joins the
Amazon with the Orinoco.
Indeed, the rivers of the Amazon valley have been classed into _white_,
_blue_, and _black_. _Red_ rivers, such as are common in the northern
division of the American continent, do not exist in the valley of the
Amazon.
There appears to be no other explanation for this difference in the
colour of rivers, except by supposing that they take their hue from the
nature of the soil through which these channels run.
But the _white_ rivers, as the Amazon itself, do not appear to be of
this hue merely because they are "muddy." On the contrary, they derive
their colour, or most of it, from some impalpable substance held in a
state of irreducible solution. This is proved from the fact, that even
when these waters enter a reservoir, and the earthy matter is allowed to
settle, they still retain the same tinge of yellowish olive. There are
some white rivers, as the Rio Branco, whose waters are almost as white
as milk itself!
The _blue_ rivers of the Amazon valley are those with clear transparent
waters, and the courses of these lie through rocky countries where there
is little or no alluvium to render them turbid.
The _black_ streams are the most remarkable of all. These, when deep,
look like rivers of ink; and when the bottom can be seen, which is
usually a sandy one, the sand has the appearance of gold. Even when
lifted in a vessel, the water retains its inky tinge, and resembles that
which may be found in the pools of peat-bogs. It is a general
supposition in South America that the black-water rivers get their
colour from the extract of sarsaparilla roots growing on their banks. It
is possible the sarsaparilla roots may have something to do with it, in
common with both the roots and leaves of many other vegetables. No other
explanation has yet been found to account for the dark colour of these
rivers, except the decay of vegetable substances carried in their
current; and it is a fact that all the black-water streams run through
the most thickly wooded regions.
A curious fact may be mentioned of the black rivers; that is, that
mosquitoes--the plague of tropical America--are not found on their
banks. This is not only a curious, but an important fact, and might be
sufficient to determine any one on the choice of a settlement. You may
deem a mosquito a very small thing, and its presence a trifling
annoyance. Let me tell you that settlements have been broken up and
deserted on account of the persecution experienced from these little
insects! They are the real "wild beasts" of South America, far more to
be dreaded than pumas, or crocodiles, or snakes, or even the fierce
jaguar himself.
Day after day our travellers kept on their course, meeting with many
incidents and adventures--too many to be recorded in this little volume.
After passing the mouth of the Rio Negro, they began to get a peep now
and then of high land, and even mountains, in the distance; for the
valley of the Amazon, on approaching its mouth, assumes a different
character from what it has farther up-stream. These mountains bend
towards it both from the Brazilian country on the south, and from Guiana
on the north, and these are often visible from the bosom of the stream
itself.
It was about a month from their entering the main stream of the Amazon,
and a little more than two from the first launching of their vessel,
when the balza was brought alongside the wharf of Grand Para, and Don
Pablo and his party stepped on shore at this Brazilian town. Here, of
course, Don Pablo was a free man--free to go where he pleased--free to
dispose of his cargo as he thought best. But he did _not_ dispose of it
at Grand Para.
A better plan presented itself. He was enabled to freight part of a
vessel starting for New York, and thither he went, taking his family and
cargo along with him. In New York he obtained a large price for his
bark, roots, and beans; in fact, when all were disposed of, he found
himself nearly twenty thousand dollars to the good. With this to live
upon, he determined to remain in the great Republic of the North until
such time as his own dear Peru might be freed from the Spanish
oppressor.
Ten years was the period of his exile. At the end of that time the
Spanish-American provinces struck almost simultaneously for liberty; and
in the ten years' struggle that followed, not only Don Pablo, but
Leon--now a young man--bore a conspicuous part. Both fought by the side
of Bolivar at the great battle of Junin, which crowned the patriot army
with victory.
At the close of the War of Independence, Don Pablo was a general of
division, while Leon had reached the grade of a colonel. But as soon as
the fighting was over, both resigned their military rank, as they were
men who did not believe in soldiering as a _mere profession_. In fact,
they regarded it as an unbecoming profession in time of peace, and in
this view _I_ quite agree with them.
Don Pablo returned to his studies; but Leon organised an expedition of
_cascarilleros_, and returned to the Montaña, where for many years he
employed himself in "bark-hunting." Through this he became one of the
richest of Peruvian "ricos."
Guapo, who at this time did not look a year older than when first
introduced, was as tough and sinewy as ever, and was at the head of the
cascarilleros; and many a _coceada_ did Guapo afterwards enjoy with his
mountain friend the "vaquero" while passing backward and forward between
Cuzco and the Montaña.
Doña Isidora lived for a long period an ornament to her sex, and the
little Leona had _her_ day as the "belle of Cuzco."
But Leon and Leona both got married at length; and were you to visit
Cuzco at the present time, you might see several little Leons and
Leonas, with round black eyes, and dark waving hair--all of them
descendants from our family of--
"FOREST EXILES."
THE BUSH-BOYS,
OR
ADVENTURES IN THE WILDS OF SOUTHERN AFRICA.
CHAPTER I.
THE BOERS.
Hendrik Von Bloom was a _boer_.
When I called Hendrik Von Bloom a boer, I did not mean him any
disrespect. Quite the contrary.
All the same it may be well to explain that Mynheer Hendrik had not
always been a boer. He could boast of a somewhat higher condition--that
is, he could boast of a better education than the mere Cape farmer
usually possesses, as well as some experience in wielding the sword. He
was not a native of the colony, but of Holland; and he had found his way
to the Cape, not as a poor adventurer seeking his fortune, but as an
officer in a Dutch regiment then stationed there.
His soldier-service in the colony was not of long duration. A certain
cherry-cheeked, flaxen-haired Gertrude--the daughter of a rich boer--had
taken a liking to the young lieutenant; and he in his turn became vastly
fond of her. The consequence was, that they got married. Gertrude's
father dying shortly after, the large farm, with its full stock of
horses, and Hottentots, broad-tailed sheep, and long-horned oxen, became
hers. This was an inducement for her soldier-husband to lay down the
sword and turn "vee-boer," or stock farmer, which he consequently did.
These incidents occurred many years previous to the English becoming
masters of the Cape colony. When that event came to pass, Hendrik Von
Bloom was already a man of influence in the colony and "field-cornet" of
his district, which lay in the beautiful county of Graaf Reinet. He was
then a widower, the father of a small family. The wife whom he had
fondly loved,--the cherry-cheeked, flaxen-haired Gertrude--no longer
lived.
History will tell you how the Dutch colonists, discontented with English
rule, rebelled against it. The ex-lieutenant and field-cornet was one of
the most prominent among these rebels. History will also tell you how
the rebellion was put down; and how several of those compromised were
brought to execution. Von Bloom escaped by flight; but his fine property
in the Graaf Reinet was confiscated and given to another.
Many years after we find him living in a remote district beyond the
great Orange River, leading the life of a "trek-boer,"--that is, a
nomade farmer, who has no fixed or permanent abode, but moves with his
flocks from place to place, wherever good pastures and water may tempt
him.
From about this time dates my knowledge of the field-cornet and his
family. Of his history previous to this I have stated all I know, but
for a period of many years after I am more minutely acquainted with it.
Most of its details I received from the lips of his own son. I was
greatly interested, and indeed instructed, by them. They were my first
lessons in African zoology.
Believing, boy reader, that they might also instruct and interest you, I
here lay them before you. You are not to regard them as merely fanciful.
The descriptions of the wild creatures that play their parts in this
little history, as well as the acts, habits, and instincts assigned to
them, you may regard as true to Nature. Young Von Bloom was a student of
Nature, and you may depend upon the fidelity of his descriptions.
Disgusted with politics, the field-cornet now dwelt on the remote
frontier--in fact, beyond the frontier, for the nearest settlement was
an hundred miles off. His "kraal" was in a district bordering the great
Kalihari desert--the Saära of Southern Africa. The region around, for
hundreds of miles, was uninhabited, for the thinly-scattered, half-human
Bushmen who dwelt within its limits, hardly deserved the name of
inhabitants any more than the wild beasts that howled around them.
I have said that Von Bloom now followed the occupation of a "trek-boer."
Farming in the Cape colony consists principally in the rearing of
horses, cattle, sheep, and goats; and these animals form the wealth of
the boer. But the stock of our field-cornet was now a very small one.
The proscription had swept away all his wealth, and he had not been
fortunate in his first essays as a nomade grazier. The emancipation law,
passed by the British Government, extended not only to the Negroes of
the West India Islands, but also to the Hottentots of the Cape; and the
result of it was that the servants of Mynheer Von Bloom had deserted
him. His cattle, no longer properly cared for, had strayed off. Some of
them fell a prey to wild beasts--some died of the _murrain_. His horses,
too, were decimated by that mysterious disease of Southern Africa, the
"horse-sickness;" while his sheep and goats were continually being
attacked and diminished in numbers by the earth-wolf, the wild hound,
and the hyena. A series of losses had he suffered until his horses,
oxen, sheep, and goats, scarce counted altogether an hundred head. A
very small stock for a vee-boer, or South African grazier.
Withal our field-cornet was not unhappy. He looked around upon his three
brave sons--Hans, Hendrik, and Jan. He looked upon his cherry-cheeked,
flaxen-haired daughter, Gertrude, the very type and image of what her
mother had been. From these he drew the hope of a happier future.
His two eldest boys were already helps to him in his daily occupations;
the youngest would soon be so likewise. In Gertrude,--or "Trüey," as she
was endearingly styled,--he would soon have a capital housekeeper. He
was not unhappy therefore; and if an occasional sigh escaped him, it was
when the face of little Trüey recalled the memory of that Gertrude who
was now in heaven.
But Hendrik Von Bloom was not the man to despair. Disappointments had
not succeeded in causing his spirits to droop. He only applied himself
more ardently to the task of once more building up his fortune.
For himself he had no ambition to be rich. He would have been contented
with the simple life he was leading, and would have cared but little to
increase his wealth. But other considerations weighed upon his
mind--the future of his little family. He could not suffer his children
to grow up in the midst of the wild plains without education.
No; they must one day return to the abodes of men, to act their part in
the drama of social and civilised life. This was his design.
But how was this design to be accomplished? Though his so called act of
treason had been pardoned, and he was now free to return within the
limits of the colony, he was ill prepared for such a purpose. His poor
wasted stock would not suffice to set him up within the settlements. It
would scarce keep him a month. To return would be to return a beggar!
Reflections of this kind sometimes gave him anxiety. But they also added
energy to his disposition, and rendered him more eager to overcome the
obstacles before him.
During the present year he had been very industrious. In order that his
cattle should be provided for in the season of winter he had planted a
large quantity of maize and buckwheat, and now the crops of both were in
the most prosperous condition. His garden, too, smiled, and promised a
profusion of fruits, and melons, and kitchen vegetables. In short, the
little homestead where he had fixed himself for a time, was a miniature
oäsis; and he rejoiced day after day, as his eyes rested upon the
ripening aspect around him. Once more he began to dream of
prosperity--once more to hope that his evil fortunes had come to an end.
Alas! It was a false hope. A series of trials yet awaited him--a series
of misfortunes that deprived him of almost everything he possessed, and
completely changed his mode of existence.
Perhaps these occurrences could hardly be termed misfortunes, since in
the end they led to a happy result.
But you may judge for yourself, boy reader, after you have heard the
"history and adventures" of the "trek-boer" and his family.
CHAPTER II.
THE KRAAL.
The ex-field-cornet was seated in front of his _kraal_--for such is the
name of a South African homestead. From his lips protruded a large pipe,
with its huge bowl of _meerschaum_. Every boer is a smoker.
Notwithstanding the many losses and crosses of his past life, there was
contentment in his eye. He was gratified by the prosperous appearance of
his crops. The maize was now "in the milk," and the ears, folded within
the papyrus-like husks, looked full and large. It was delightful to hear
the rustling of the long green blades, and see the bright golden tassels
waving in the breeze. The heart of the farmer was glad as his eye
glanced over his promising crop of "mealies."
But there was another promising crop that still more gladdened his
heart--his fine children. There they are--all around him.
Hans--the oldest--steady, sober Hans, at work in the well-stocked
garden; while the diminutive but sprightly imp Jan, the youngest, is
looking on, and occasionally helping his brother. Hendrik--the dashing
Hendrik, with bright face and light curling hair--is busy among the
horses, in the "horse-kraal;" and Trüey--the beautiful, cherry-cheeked,
flaxen-haired Trüey--is engaged with her pet--a fawn of the springbok
gazelle--whose bright eyes rival her own in their expression of
innocence and loveliness.
Yes, the heart of the field-cornet is glad as he glances from one to the
other of these his children--and with reason. They are all fair to look
upon,--all give promise of goodness. If their father feels an occasional
pang, it is, as we have already said, when his eye rests upon the
cherry-cheeked, flaxen-haired Gertrude.
But time has long since subdued that grief to a gentle melancholy. Its
pang is short-lived, and the face of the field-cornet soon lightens up
again as he looks around upon his dear children, so full of hope and
promise.
Hans and Hendrik are already strong enough to assist him in his
occupations,--in fact, with the exception of "Swartboy," they are the
only help he has.
Who is Swartboy?
Look into the horse-kraal, and you will there see Swartboy engaged,
along with his young master Hendrik, in saddling a pair of horses. You
may notice that Swartboy appears to be about thirty years old, and he is
full that; but if you were to apply a measuring rule to him, you would
find him not much over four feet in height! He is stoutly built,
however, and would measure better in a horizontal direction. You may
notice that he is of a yellow complexion, although his name might lead
you to fancy he was black--for "Swartboy" means "black-boy."
You may observe that his nose is flat and sunk below the level of his
cheeks; that his cheeks are prominent, his lips very thick, his nostrils
wide, his face beardless, and his head almost hairless--for the small
kinky wool-knots thinly scattered over his skull can scarcely be
designated hair. You may notice, moreover, that his head is monstrously
large, with ears in proportion, and that the eyes are set obliquely, and
have a Chinese expression. You may notice about Swartboy all those
characteristics that distinguish the "Hottentots" of South Africa.
Yet Swartboy is not a Hottentot--though he is of the same race. He is a
Bushman.
How came this wild Bushman into the service of the ex-field-cornet Von
Bloom? About that there is a little romantic history. Thus:--
Among the savage tribes of Southern Africa there exists a very cruel
custom,--that of abandoning their aged or infirm, and often their sick
or wounded, to die in the desert. Children leave their parents behind
them, and the wounded are often forsaken by their comrades with no other
provision made for them beyond a day's food and a cup of water!
The Bushman Swartboy had been the victim of this custom. He had been
upon a hunting excursion with some of his own kindred, and had been
sadly mangled by a lion. His comrades, not expecting him to live, left
him on the plain to die; and most certainly would he have perished had
it not been for our field-cornet. The latter, as he was "trekking" over
the plains, found the wounded Bushman, lifted him into his wagon,
carried him on to his camp, dressed his wounds, and nursed him till he
became well. That is how Swartboy came to be in the service of the
field-cornet.
Though gratitude is not a characteristic of his race, Swartboy was not
ungrateful. When all the other servants ran away, he remained faithful
to his master; and since that time had been a most efficient and useful
hand. In fact, he was now the only one left, with the exception of the
girl, Totty--who was, of course, a Hottentot; and much about the same
height, size, and colour, as Swartboy himself.
We have said that Swartboy and the young Hendrik were saddling a pair of
horses. As soon as they had finished that job, they mounted them, and
riding out of the kraal, took their way straight across the plain. They
were followed by a couple of strong, rough-looking dogs.
Their purpose was to drive home the oxen and the other horses that were
feeding a good distance off. This they were in the habit of doing every
evening at the same hour,--for in South Africa it is necessary to shut
up all kinds of live stock at night, to protect them from beasts of
prey. For this purpose are built several enclosures with high
walls,--"kraals," as they are called,--a word of the same signification
as the Spanish "corral," and I fancy introduced into Africa by the
Portuguese--since it is not a native term.
These kraals are important structures about the homestead of a boer,
almost as much so as his own dwelling-house, which of itself also bears
the name of "kraal."
As young Hendrik and Swartboy rode off for the horses and cattle, Hans,
leaving his work in the garden, proceeded to collect the sheep and drive
them home. These browsed in a different direction; but, as they were
near, he went afoot, taking little Jan along with him.
Trüey having tied her pet to a post, had gone inside the house to help
Totty in preparing the supper. Thus the field-cornet was left to himself
and his pipe, which he still continued to smoke.
He sat in perfect silence, though he could scarce restrain from giving
expression to the satisfaction he felt at seeing his family thus
industriously employed. Though pleased with all his children, it must be
confessed he had some little partiality for the dashing Hendrik, who
bore his own name, and who reminded him more of his own youth than any
of the others. He was proud of Hendrik's gallant horsemanship, and his
eyes followed him over the plain until the riders were nearly a mile
off, and already mixing among the cattle.
At this moment an object came under the eyes of Von Bloom, that at once
arrested his attention. It was a curious appearance along the lower part
of the sky, in the direction in which Hendrik and Swartboy had gone, but
apparently beyond them. It resembled a dun-coloured mist or smoke, as if
the plain at a great distance was on fire!
Could that be so? Had some one fired the _karoo_ bushes? Or was it a
cloud of dust?
The wind was hardly strong enough to raise such a dust, and yet it had
that appearance. Was it caused by animals? Might it not be the dust
raised by a great herd of antelopes,--a migration of the springboks, for
instance? It extended for miles along the horizon, but Von Bloom knew
that these creatures often travel in flocks of greater extent than
miles. Still he could not think it was that.
He continued to gaze at the strange phenomenon, endeavouring to account
for it in various ways. It seemed to be rising higher against the blue
sky--now resembling dust, now like the smoke of a widely-spread
conflagration, and now like a reddish cloud. It was in the west, and
already the setting sun was obscured by it. It had passed over the sun's
disc like a screen, and his light no longer fell upon the plain. Was it
the forerunner of some terrible storm?--of an earthquake?
Such a thought crossed the mind of the field-cornet. It was not like an
ordinary cloud,--it was not like a cloud of dust,--it was not like
smoke. It was like nothing he had ever witnessed before. No wonder that
he became anxious and apprehensive.
All at once the dark-red mass seemed to envelope the cattle upon the
plain, and these could be seen running to and fro as if affrighted. Then
the two riders disappeared under its dun shadow!
Von Bloom rose to his feet, now seriously alarmed. What could it mean?
The exclamation to which he gave utterance brought little Trüey and
Totty from the house; and Hans with Jan had now got back with the sheep
and goats. All saw the singular phenomenon, but none of them could tell
what it was. All were in a state of alarm.
As they stood gazing, with hearts full of fear, the two riders appeared
coming out of the cloud, and then they were seen to gallop forward over
the plain in the direction of the house. They came on at full speed, but
long before they had got near, the voice of Swartboy could be heard
crying out,--
"Baas Von Bloom! _da springaans are comin'!--da springaan!--da
springaan!_"
CHAPTER III.
THE SPRING-HAAN.
"Ah _the springaan_!" cried Von Bloom, recognising the Dutch name for
the far-famed migratory locust.
The mystery was explained. The singular cloud that was spreading itself
over the plain was neither more nor less than a flight of locusts!
It was a sight that none of them, except Swartboy, had ever witnessed
before. His master had often seen locusts in small quantities, and of
several species,--for there are many kinds of these singular insects in
South Africa. But that which now appeared was a true migratory locust
(_Gryllus devastatorius_); and upon one of its great migrations--an
event of rarer occurrence than travellers would have you believe.
Swartboy knew them well; and, although he announced their approach in a
state of great excitement, it was not the excitement of terror.
Quite the contrary. His great thick lips were compressed athwart his
face in a grotesque expression of joy. The instincts of his wild race
were busy within him. To them a flight of locusts is not an object of
dread, but a source of rejoicing--their coming as welcome as a take of
shrimps to a Leigh fisherman, or harvest to the husband-man.
The dogs, too, barked and howled with joy, and frisked about as if they
were going out upon a hunt. On perceiving the cloud, their instinct
enabled them easily to recognise the locusts. They regarded them with
feelings similar to those that stirred Swartboy--for both dogs and
Bushmen eat the insects with avidity!
At the announcement that it was only locusts, all at once recovered from
their alarm. Little Trüey and Jan laughed, clapped their hands, and
waited with curiosity until they should come nearer. All had heard
enough of locusts to know that they were only grasshoppers that neither
bit nor stung any one, and therefore no one was afraid of them.
Even Von Bloom himself was at first very little concerned about them.
After his feelings of apprehension, the announcement that it was a
flight of locusts was a relief, and for a while he did not dwell upon
the nature of such a phenomenon, but only regarded it with feelings of
curiosity.
Of a sudden his thoughts took a new direction. His eye rested upon his
fields of maize and buckwheat, upon his garden of melons, and fruits,
and vegetables: a new alarm seized upon him; the memory of many stories
which he had heard in relation to these destructive creatures rushed
into his mind, and as the whole truth developed itself, he turned pale,
and uttered new exclamations of alarm.
The children changed countenance as well. They saw that their father
suffered; though they knew not why. They gathered inquiringly around
him.
"Alas! alas! Lost! lost!" exclaimed he; "yes, all our crop--our labour
of the year--gone, gone! O my dear children!"
"How lost, father?--how gone?" exclaimed several of them in a breath.
"See the springaan! they will eat up our crop--all--all!"
"'Tis true, indeed," said Hans, who being a great student had often read
accounts of the devastations committed by the locusts.
The joyous countenances of all once more wore a sad expression, and it
was no longer with curiosity that they gazed upon the distant cloud,
that so suddenly had clouded their joy.
Von Bloom had good cause for dread. Should the swarm come on, and settle
upon his fields, farewell to his prospects of a harvest. They would
strip the verdure from his whole farm in a twinkling. They would leave
neither seed, nor leaf, nor stalk behind them.
All stood watching the flight with painful emotions. The swarm was still
a full half-mile distant. They appeared to be coming no nearer,--good!
A ray of hope entered the mind of the field-cornet. He took off his
broad felt hat, and held it up to the full stretch of his arm. The wind
was blowing from the north, and the swarm was directly to the west of
the kraal. The cloud of locusts had approached from the north, as they
almost invariably do in the southern parts of Africa.
"Yes," said Hendrik, who having been in their midst could tell what way
they were drifting, "they came down upon us from a northerly direction.
When we headed our horses homewards, we soon galloped out from them, and
they did not appear to fly after us; I am sure they were passing
southwards."
Von Bloom entertained hopes that as none appeared due north of the
kraal, the swarm might pass on without extending to the borders of his
farm. He knew that they usually followed the direction of the wind.
Unless the wind changed they would not swerve from their course.
He continued to observe them anxiously. He saw that the selvedge of the
cloud came no nearer. His hopes rose. His countenance grew brighter. The
children noticed this and were glad, but said nothing. All stood
silently watching.
An odd sight it was. There was not only the misty swarm of the insects
to gaze upon. The air above them was filled with birds--strange birds
and of many kinds. On slow, silent wing soared the brown "oricou," the
largest of Africa's vultures; and along with him the yellow "chasse
fiente," the vulture of Kolbé. There swept the bearded "lamvanger," on
broad extended wings. There shrieked the great "Caffre eagle," and side
by side with him the short-tailed and singular "bateleur." There, too
were hawks of different sizes and colours, and kites cutting through the
air, and crows and ravens, and many species of _insectivora_.
But far more numerous than all the rest could be seen the little
_springhaan-vogel_, a speckled bird of nearly the size and form of a
swallow. Myriads of these darkened the air above--hundreds of them
continually shooting down among the insects, and soaring up again each
with a victim in its beak. "Locust-vultures" are these creatures named,
though not vultures in kind. They feed exclusively on these insects, and
are never seen where the locusts are not. They follow them through all
their migrations, building their nests, and rearing their young, in the
midst of their prey!
It was, indeed, a curious sight to look upon, that swarm of winged
insects, and their numerous and varied enemies; and all stood gazing
upon it with feelings of wonder. Still the living cloud approached no
nearer, and the hopes of Von Bloom continued to rise.
The swarm kept extending to the south--in fact, it now stretched along
the whole western horizon; and all noticed that it was gradually getting
lower down--that is, its top edge was sinking in the heavens. Were the
locusts passing off to the west? No.
"Da am goin roost for da nacht--now we'll get 'em in bag-full," said
Swartboy, with a pleased look; for Swartboy was a regular locust-eater,
as fond of them as either eagle or kite,--aye, as the "springhaan-vogel"
itself.
It was as Swartboy had stated. The swarm was actually settling down on
the plain.
"Can't fly without sun," continued the Bushman. "Too cold now. Dey go
dead till da mornin."
And so it was. The sun had set. The cool breeze weakened the wings of
the insect travellers; and they were compelled to make halt for the
night upon the trees, bushes, and grass.
In a few minutes the dark mist that had hid the blue rim of the sky, was
seen no more; but the distant plain looked as if a fire had swept over
it. It was thickly covered with the bodies of the insects, that gave it
a blackened appearance as far as the eye could reach.
The attendant birds, perceiving the approach of night, screamed for
awhile, and then scattered away through the heavens. Some perched upon
the rocks, while others went to roost among the low thickets of mimosa;
and now for a short interval both earth and air were silent.
Von Bloom now bethought him of his cattle. Their forms were seen afar
off in the midst of the locust-covered plain.
"Let 'em feed um little while, baas," suggested Swartboy.
"On what?" inquired his master. "Don't you see the grass is covered!"
"On de springhaan demself, baas," replied the Bushman; "good for fatten
big ox--better dan grass--ya, better dan _mealies_."
But it was too late to leave the cattle longer out upon the plain. The
lions would soon be abroad--the sooner because of the locusts, for the
king of the beasts does not disdain to fill his royal stomach with these
insects--when he can find them.
Von Bloom saw the necessity of bringing his cattle at once to their
kraal.
A third horse was saddled, which the field-cornet himself mounted, and
rode off, followed by Hendrik and Swartboy.
On approaching the locusts they beheld a singular sight. The ground was
covered with these reddish-brown creatures, in some spots to the depth
of several inches. What bushes there were were clustered with them,--all
over the leaves and branches, as if swarms of bees had settled upon
them. Not a leaf or blade of grass that was not covered with their
bodies!
They moved not, but remained silent, as if torpid or asleep. The cold of
the evening had deprived them of the power of flight.
What was strangest of all to the eyes of Von Bloom and Hendrik, was the
conduct of their own horses and cattle. These were some distance out in
the midst of the sleeping host; but instead of being alarmed at their
odd situation, they were greedily gathering up the insects in mouthfuls,
and crunching them as though they had been corn!
It was with some difficulty that they could be driven off; but the roar
of a lion, that was just then heard over the plain, and the repeated
application of Swartboy's _jambok_, rendered them more tractable, and at
length they suffered themselves to be driven home, and lodged within
their kraals.
Swartboy had provided himself with a bag, which he carried back full of
locusts.
It was observed that in collecting the insects into the bag, he acted
with some caution, handling them very gingerly, as if he was afraid of
them. It was not them he feared, but snakes which, upon such occasions
are very plenteous, and very much to be dreaded--as the Bushman from
experience well knew.
CHAPTER IV.
A TALK ABOUT LOCUSTS.
It was a night of anxiety in the kraal of the field-cornet. Should the
wind veer round to the west, to a certainty the locusts would cover his
land in the morning, and the result would be the total destruction of
his crops. Perhaps worse than that. Perhaps the whole vegetation
around--for fifty miles or more--might be destroyed; and then how would
his cattle be fed? It would be no easy matter even to save their lives.
They might perish before he could drive them to any other pasturage!
Such a thing was by no means uncommon or improbable. In the history of
the Cape colony many a boer had lost his flocks in this very way. No
wonder there was anxiety that night in the kraal of the field-cornet.
At intervals Von Bloom went out to ascertain whether there was any
change in the wind. Up to a late hour he could perceive none. A gentle
breeze still blew from the north--from the great Kalihari
desert--whence, no doubt, the locusts had come. The moon was bright, and
her light gleamed over the host of insects that darkly covered the
plain. The roar of the lion could be heard mingling with the shrill
scream of the jackal and the maniac laugh of the hyena. All these
beasts, and many more, were enjoying a plenteous repast.
Perceiving no change in the wind, Von Bloom became less uneasy, and they
all conversed freely about the locusts. Swartboy took a leading part in
this conversation, as he was better acquainted with the subject than any
of them. It was far from being the first flight of locusts Swartboy had
seen, and many a bushel of them had he eaten. It was natural to suppose,
therefore, that he knew a good deal about them.
He knew not whence they came. That was a point about which Swartboy had
never troubled himself. The learned Hans offered an explanation of their
origin.
"They come from the desert," said he. "The eggs from which they are
produced, are deposited in the sands or dust; where they lie until rain
falls, and causes the herbage to spring up. Then the locusts are
hatched, and in their first stage are supported upon this herbage. When
it becomes exhausted, they are compelled to go in search of food. Hence
these 'migrations,' as they are called."
This explanation seemed clear enough.
"Now I have heard," said Hendrik, "of farmers kindling fires around
their crops to keep off the locusts. I can't see how fires would keep
them off--not even if a regular fence of fire were made all round a
field. These creatures have wings, and could easily fly over the fires."
"The fires," replied Hans, "are kindled, in order that the smoke may
prevent them from alighting; but the locusts to which these accounts
usually refer are without wings, called _voetgangers_ (foot-goers). They
are, in fact, the _larvæ_ of these locusts, before they have obtained
their wings. These have also their migrations, that are often more
destructive than those of the perfect insects, such as we see here. They
proceed over the ground by crawling and leaping like grasshoppers; for,
indeed, they are grasshoppers--a species of them. They keep on in one
direction, as if they were guided by instinct to follow a particular
course. Nothing can interrupt them in their onward march unless the sea
or some broad and rapid river. Small streams they can swim across; and
large ones, too, where they run sluggishly; walls and houses they can
climb--even the chimneys--going straight over them; and the moment they
have reached the other side of any obstacle, they continue straight
onward in the old direction.
"In attempting to cross broad rapid rivers, they are drowned in
countless myriads, and swept off to the sea. When it is only a small
migration, the farmers sometimes keep them off by means of fires, as you
have heard. On the contrary, when large numbers appear, even the fires
are of no avail."
"But how is that, brother?" inquired Hendrik. "I can understand how
fires would stop the kind you speak of, since you say they are without
wings. But since they are so, how do they get through the fires? Jump
them?"
"No, not so," replied Hans. "The fires are built too wide and large for
that."
"How then, brother?" asked Hendrik. "I'm puzzled."
"So am I," said little Jan.
"And I," added Trüey.
"Well, then," continued Hans, "millions of the insects crawl into the
fires and put them out!"
"Ho!" cried all in astonishment. "How? Are they not burned?"
"Of course," replied Hans. "They are scorched and killed--myriads of
them quite burned up. But their bodies crowded thickly on the fires
choke them out. The foremost ranks of the great host thus become
victims, and the others pass safely across upon the holocaust thus made.
So you see, even fires cannot stop the course of the locusts when they
are in great numbers.
"In many parts of Africa, where the natives cultivate the soil, as soon
as they discover a migration of these insects, and perceive that they
are heading in the direction of their fields and gardens, quite a panic
is produced among them. They know that they will lose their crops to a
certainty, and hence dread a visitation of locusts as they would an
earthquake, or some other great calamity."
"We can well understand their feelings upon such an occasion," remarked
Hendrik, with a significant look.
"The flying locusts," continued Hans, "seem less to follow a particular
direction than their larvæ. The former seem to be guided by the wind.
Frequently this carries them all into the sea, where they perish in vast
numbers. On some parts of the coast their dead bodies have been found
washed back to land in quantities incredible. At one place the sea threw
them upon the beach, until they lay piled up in a ridge four feet in
height, and fifty miles in length! It has been asserted by several
well-known travellers that the effluvium from this mass tainted the air
to such an extent that it was perceived one hundred and fifty miles
inland!"
"Heigh!" exclaimed little Jan. "I didn't think anybody had so good a
nose."
At little Jan's remark there was a general laugh. Von Bloom did not join
in their merriment. He was in too serious a mood just then.
"Papa," inquired little Trüey, perceiving that her father did not laugh,
and thinking to draw him into the conversation,--"Papa! were these the
kind of locusts eaten by John the Baptist when in the desert? His food,
the Bible says, was 'locusts and wild honey.'"
"I believe these are the same," replied the father.
"I think, papa," modestly rejoined Hans, "they are not exactly the same,
but a kindred species. The locust of Scripture was the true _Gryllus
migratorius_, and different from those of South Africa, though very
similar in its habits. But," continued he, "some writers dispute that
point altogether. The Abyssinians say that it was beans of the
locust-tree, and not insects, that were the food of St. John."
"What is your own opinion, Hans?" inquired Hendrik, who had a great
belief in his brother's book-knowledge.
"Why, I think," replied Hans, "there need be no question about it. It is
only torturing the meaning of a word to suppose that St. John ate the
locust fruit, and not the insect. I am decidedly of opinion that the
latter is meant in Scripture; and what makes me think so is, that these
two kinds of food, 'locusts and wild honey,' are often coupled together,
as forming at the present time the subsistence of many tribes who are
denizens of the desert. Besides, we have good evidence that both were
used as food by desert-dwelling people in the days of Scripture. It is,
therefore, but natural to suppose that St. John, when in the desert, was
forced to partake of this food; just as many a traveller of modern times
has eaten of it when crossing the deserts that surround us here in South
Africa.
"I have read a great many books about locusts," continued Hans; "and now
that the Bible has been mentioned, I must say for my part, I know no
account given of these insects so truthful and beautiful as that in the
Bible itself. Shall I read it, papa?"
"By all means, my boy," said the field-cornet, rather pleased at the
request which his son had made, and at the tenor of the conversation.
Little Trüey ran into the inner room and brought out an immense volume
bound in gemsbok skin, with a couple of brass clasps upon it to keep it
closed. This was the family Bible; and here let me observe, that a
similar book may be found in the house of nearly every boer, for these
Dutch colonists are a Protestant and Bible-loving people--so much so,
that they think nothing of going a hundred miles, four times in the
year, to attend the _nacht-maal_, or sacramental supper! What do you
think of that?
Hans opened the volume, and turned at once to the book of the prophet
Joel. From the readiness with which he found the passage, it was
evident he was well acquainted with the book he held in his hands.
He read as follows:
"A day of darkness and of gloominess, a day of clouds and of
thick darkness, as the morning spread upon the mountains; a great
people and a strong: there hath not been ever the like, neither
shall be any more after it, even to the years of many
generations. A fire devoureth before them, and behind them a
flame burneth: the land is as the garden of Eden before them, and
behind them a desolate wilderness; yea, and nothing shall escape
them. The appearance of them is as the appearance of horses; and
as horsemen, so shall they run. Like the noise of chariots on the
tops of mountains shall they leap, like the noise of a flame of
fire that devoureth the stubble, as a strong people set in battle
array. The earth shall quake before them; the heavens shall
tremble; the sun and the moon shall be dark, and the stars shall
withdraw their shining. How do the beasts groan! the herds of
cattle are perplexed, because they have no pasture; yea, the
flocks of sheep are made desolate."
Even the rude Swartboy could perceive the poetic beauty of this
description.
But Swartboy had much to say about the locusts, as well as the inspired
Joel.
Thus spoke Swartboy:--
"Bushman no fear da springhaan. Bushman hab no garden--no maize--no
buckwheat--no nothing for da springhaan to eat. Bushman eat locust
himself--he grow fat on da locust. Ebery thing eat dem dar springhaan.
Ebery thing grow fat in da locust season. Ho! den for dem springhaan!"
These remarks of Swartboy were true enough. The locusts are eaten by
almost every species of animal known in South Africa. Not only do the
_carnivora_ greedily devour them, but also animals and birds of the game
kind--such as antelopes, partridges, guinea-fowls, bustards, and,
strange to say, the giant of all--the huge elephant--will travel for
miles to overtake a migration of locusts! Domestic fowls, sheep, horses,
and dogs, devour them with equal greediness. Still another strange
fact--the locusts eat one another! If any one of them gets hurt, so as
to impede his progress, the others immediately turn upon him and eat him
up!
The Bushmen and other native races of Africa submit the locusts to a
process of cookery before eating them; and during the whole evening
Swartboy had been engaged in preparing the bagful which he had
collected. He "cooked" them thus:--
He first boiled, or rather steamed them, for only a small quantity of
water was put into the pot. This process lasted two hours. They were
then taken out, and allowed to dry; and after that shaken about in a
pan, until all the legs and wings were broken off from the bodies. A
winnowing process--Swartboy's thick lips acting as a fan--was next gone
through; and the legs and wings were thus got rid of. The locusts were
then ready for eating.
A little salt only was required to render them more palatable, when all
present made trial of, and some of the children even liked them. By
many, locusts prepared in this way are considered quite equal to
shrimps!
Sometimes they are pounded when quite dry into a sort of meal, and with
water added to them, are made into a kind of stirabout.
When well dried, they will keep for a long time; and they frequently
form the only store of food which the poorer natives have to depend upon
for a whole season.
Among many tribes--particularly among those who are not
agricultural--the coming of the locusts is a source of rejoicing. These
people turn out with sacks, and often with pack-oxen to collect and
bring them to the villages; and on such occasions vast heaps of them are
accumulated and stored, in the same way as grain!
Conversing of these things the night passed on until it was time for
going to bed. The field-cornet went out once again to observe the wind;
and then the door of the little kraal was closed, and the family retired
to rest.
CHAPTER V.
THE LOCUST-FLIGHT.
The field-cornet slept but little. Anxiety kept him awake. He turned and
tossed, and thought of the locusts. He napped at intervals, and dreamt
about locusts, and crickets, and grasshoppers, and all manner of great
long-legged, goggle-eyed insects. He was glad when the first ray of
light penetrated through the little window of his chamber.
He sprang to his feet; and, scarce staying to dress himself, rushed out
into the open air. It was still dark, but he did not require to see the
wind. He did not need to toss a feather or hold up his hat. The truth
was too plain. A strong breeze was blowing--it was blowing _from the
west_!
Half distracted, he ran farther out to assure himself. He ran until
clear of the walls that enclosed the kraals and garden.
He halted and felt the air. Alas! his first impression was correct. The
breeze blew directly from the west--directly from the locusts. He could
perceive the effluvium borne from the hateful insects: there was no
longer cause to doubt.
Groaning in spirit, Von Bloom returned to his house. He had no longer
any hope of escaping the terrible visitation.
His first directions were to collect all the loose pieces of linen or
clothing in the house, and pack them within the family chests. What!
would the locusts be likely to eat them?
Indeed, yes--for these voracious creatures are not fastidious. No
particular vegetable seems to be chosen by them. The leaves of the
bitter tobacco plant appear to be as much to their liking as the sweet
and succulent blades of maize! Pieces of linen, cotton, and even
flannel, are devoured by them, as though they were the tender shoots of
plants. Stones, iron, and hard wood, are about the only objects that
escape their fierce masticators.
Von Bloom had heard this, Hans had read of it, and Swartboy confirmed it
from his own experience.
Consequently, everything that was at all destructible was carefully
stowed away; and then breakfast was cooked and eaten in silence.
There was a gloom over the faces of all, because he who was the head of
all was silent and dejected. What a change within a few hours! But the
evening before the field-cornet and his little family were in the full
enjoyment of happiness.
There was still one hope, though a slight one. Might it yet rain? Or
might the day turn out cold?
In either case Swartboy said the locusts could not take wing--for they
cannot fly in cold or rainy weather. In the event of a cold or wet day
they would have to remain as they were, and perhaps the wind might
change round again before they resumed their flight. Oh, for a torrent
of rain, or a cold cloudy day!
Vain wish! vain hope! In half-an-hour after the sun rose up in African
splendour, and his hot rays, slanting down upon the sleeping host,
warmed them into life and activity. They commenced to crawl, to hop
about, and then, as if by one impulse, myriads rose into the air. The
breeze impelled them in the direction in which it was blowing,--in the
direction of the devoted maize fields.
In less than five minutes, from the time they had taken wing, they were
over the kraal, and dropping in tens of thousands upon the surrounding
fields. Slow was their flight, and gentle their descent, and to the eyes
of those beneath they presented the appearance of a shower of _black_
snow, falling in large feathery flakes. In a few moments the ground was
completely covered, until every stalk of maize, every plant and bush,
carried its hundreds. On the outer plains too, as far as eye could see,
the pasture was strewed thickly; and as the great flight had now passed
to the eastward of the house, the sun's disk was again hidden by them as
if by an eclipse!
They seemed to move in a kind of _echelon_, the bands in the rear
constantly flying to the front, and then halting to feed, until in turn
these were headed by others that had advanced over them in a similar
manner.
The noise produced by their wings was not the least curious phenomenon;
and resembled a steady breeze playing among the leaves of the forest, or
the sound of a water-wheel.
For two hours this passage continued. During most of that time, Von
Bloom and his people had remained within the house, with closed doors
and windows. This they did to avoid the unpleasant shower, as the
creatures impelled by the breeze, often strike the cheek so forcibly as
to cause a feeling of pain. Moreover, they did not like treading upon
the unwelcome intruders, and crushing them under their feet, which they
must have done, had they moved about outside where the ground was
thickly covered.
Many of the insects even crawled inside, through the chinks of the door
and windows, and greedily devoured any vegetable substance which
happened to be lying about the floor.
At the end of two hours Von Bloom looked forth. The thickest of the
flight had passed. The sun was again shining; but upon what was he
shining? No longer upon green fields and a flowery garden. No. Around
the house, on every side, north, south, east, and west, the eye rested
only on black desolation. Not a blade of grass, not a leaf could be
seen--even the very bark was stripped from the trees, that now stood as
if withered by the hand of God! Had fire swept the surface, it could not
have left it more naked and desolate. There was no garden, there were no
fields of maize or buckwheat, there was no longer a farm--the kraal
stood in the midst of a desert!
Words cannot depict the emotions of the field-cornet at that moment. The
pen cannot describe his painful feelings.
Such a change in two hours! He could scarce credit his senses--he could
scarce believe in its reality. He knew that the locusts would eat up his
maize, and his wheat, and the vegetables of his garden; but his fancy
had fallen far short of the extreme desolation that had actually been
produced. The whole landscape was metamorphosed--grass was out of the
question--trees, whose delicate foliage had played in the soft breeze
but two short hours before, now stood leafless, scathed by worse than
winter. The very ground seemed altered in shape! He would not have known
it as his own farm. Most certainly had the owner been absent during the
period of the locust-flight, and approached without any information of
what had been passing, he would not have recognised the place of his own
habitation!
With the phlegm peculiar to his race, the field-cornet sat down, and
remained for a long time without speech or movement.
His children gathered near, and looked on--their young hearts painfully
throbbing. They could not fully appreciate the difficult circumstances
in which this occurrence had placed them; nor did their father himself
at first. He thought only of the loss he had sustained, in the
destruction of his fine crops; and this of itself, when we consider his
isolated situation, and the hopelessness of restoring them, was enough
to cause him very great chagrin.
"Gone! all gone!" he exclaimed, in a sorrowing voice. "Oh!
Fortune--Fortune--again art thou cruel!"
"Papa! do not grieve," said a soft voice; "we are all alive yet, we are
here by your side;" and with the words a little white hand was laid upon
his shoulder. It was the hand of the beautiful Trüey.
It seemed as if an angel had smiled upon him. He lifted the child in
his arms, and in a paroxysm of fondness pressed her to his heart. That
heart felt relieved.
"Bring me the Book," said he, addressing one of the boys.
[Illustration: THE SHOWER OF LOCUSTS.]
The Bible was brought--its massive covers were opened--a verse was
chosen--and the song of praise rose up in the midst of the desert.
The Book was closed; and for some minutes all knelt in prayer.
When Von Bloom again stood upon his feet, and looked around him, the
desert seemed once more to "rejoice and blossom as the rose."
Upon the human heart such is the magic influence of resignation and
humility.
CHAPTER VI.
"INSPANN AND TREK!"
With all his confidence in the protection of a Supreme Being, Von Bloom
knew that he was not to leave everything to the Divine hand. That was
not the religion he had been taught; and he at once set about taking
measures to extricate himself from the unpleasant position in which he
was placed.
Unpleasant position! Ha! It was more than unpleasant, as the
field-cornet began to perceive. It was a position of peril!
The more Von Bloom reflected, the more was he convinced of this. There
they were, in the middle of a black naked plain, that without a green
spot extended beyond the limits of vision. How much farther he could not
guess; but he knew that the devastations of the migratory locust
sometimes cover an area of thousands of miles! It was certain that the
one that had just swept past was on a very extensive scale.
It was evident he could no longer remain by his kraal. His horses, and
cattle, and sheep, could not live without food; and should these perish,
upon what were he and his family to subsist? He must leave the kraal. He
must go in search of pasture, without loss of time,--at once. Already
the animals, shut up beyond their usual hour, were uttering their varied
cries, impatient to be let out. They would soon hunger; and it was hard
to say when food could be procured for them.
There was no time to be lost. Every hour was of great importance,--even
minutes must not be wasted in dubious hesitation.
The field-cornet spent but a few minutes in consideration. Whether
should he mount one of his best horses, and ride off alone in search of
pasture? or whether would it not be better to "inspann" his wagon, and
take everything along with him at once?
He soon decided in favour of the latter course. In any case he would
have been compelled to move from his present location,--to leave the
kraal altogether.
He might as well take everything at once. Should he go out alone, it
might cost him a long time to find grass and water--for both would be
necessary--and, meantime, his stock would be suffering.
These and other considerations decided him at once to "inspann" and
"trek" away, with his wagon, his horses, his cattle, his sheep, his
"household goods," and his whole family circle.
"Inspann and trek!" was the command: and Swartboy, who was proud of the
reputation he had earned as a wagon-driver, was now seen waving his
bamboo whip like a great fishing-rod.
"Inspann and trek!" echoed Swartboy, tying upon his twenty-feet lash a
new cracker, which he had twisted out of the skin of the hartebeest
antelope.
"Inspann and trek!" he repeated, making his vast whip crack like a
pistol; "yes, baas, I'll inspann;" and, having satisfied himself that
his "voor-slag" was properly adjusted, Swartboy rested the bamboo handle
against the side of the house, and proceeded to the kraal to collect the
yoke-oxen.
A large wagon, of a sort that is the pride and property of every Cape
farmer, stood to one side of the house. It was a vehicle of the first
class,--a regular "cap-tent" wagon,--that had been made for the
field-cornet in his better days, and in which he had been used to drive
his wife and children to the "nacht-maal," and upon _vrolykheids_
(parties of pleasure). In those days a team of eight fine horses used to
draw it along at a rattling rate. Alas! oxen had now to take their
place; for Von Bloom had but five horses in his whole stud, and these
were required for the saddle.
But the wagon was almost as good as ever it had been,--almost as good as
when it used to be the envy of the field-cornet's neighbours, the boers
of Graaf Reinet. Nothing was broken. Everything was in its
place,--"voor-kist," and "achter-kist," and side-chests. There was the
snow-white cap, with its "fore-clap" and "after-clap," and its inside
pockets, all complete; and the wheels neatly carved, and the well-planed
boxing and "disselboom," and the strong "trektow" of buffalo-hide.
Nothing was wanting that ought to be found about a wagon. It was, in
fact, the best part of the field-cornet's property that remained to
him,--for it was equal in value to all the oxen, cattle, and sheep, upon
his establishment.
While Swartboy, assisted by Hendrik, was catching up the twelve
yoke-oxen, and attaching them to the disselboom and trektow of the
wagon, the "baas" himself, aided by Hans, Totty, and also by Trüey and
little Jan, was loading up the furniture and implements. This was not a
difficult task. The _Penates_ of the little kraal were not numerous, and
were all soon packed either inside or around the roomy vehicle.
In about an hour's time the wagon was loaded up, the oxen were
inspanned, the horses saddled, and everything was ready for "trekking."
And now arose the question, _whither_?
Up to this time Von Bloom had only thought of getting away from the
spot--of escaping beyond the naked waste that surrounded him.
It now became necessary to determine the direction in which they were to
travel--a most important consideration.
Important, indeed, as a little reflection showed. They might go in the
direction in which the locusts had gone, or that in which they had come?
On either route they might travel for scores of miles without meeting
with a mouthful of grass for the hungry animals; and in such a case
these would break down and perish.
Or the travellers might move in some other direction, and find grass,
but not water. Without water, not only would they have to fear for the
cattle, but for themselves--for their own lives. How important then it
was, which way they turned their faces!
At first the field-cornet bethought him of heading towards the
settlements. The nearest water in that direction was almost fifty miles
off. It lay to the eastward of the kraal. The locusts had just gone that
way. They would by this time have laid waste the whole country--perhaps
to the water or beyond it!
It would be a great risk going in that direction.
Northward lay the Kalihari desert. It would be hopeless to steer north.
Von Bloom knew of no oäsis in the desert. Besides the locusts had come
from the north. They were drifting southward when first seen; and from
the time they had been observed passing in this last direction, they had
no doubt ere this wasted the plains far to the south.
The thoughts of the field-cornet were now turned to the west. It is true
the swarm had last approached from the west; but Von Bloom fancied that
they had first come down from the north, and that the sudden veering
round of the wind had caused them to change direction. He thought that
by trekking westward he would soon get beyond the ground they had laid
bare.
He knew something of the plains to the west--not much indeed, but he
knew that at about forty miles distance there was a spring with good
pasturage around it, upon whose water he could depend. He had once
visited it, while on a search for some of his cattle, that had wandered
thus far. Indeed, it then appeared to him a better situation for cattle
than the one he held, and he had often thought of moving to it. Its
great distance from any civilized settlement was the reason why he had
not done so. Although he was already far beyond the frontier, he still
kept up a sort of communication with the settlements, whereas at the
more distant point such a communication would be extremely difficult.
Now that other considerations weighed with him, his thoughts once more
returned to this spring; and after spending a few minutes more in
earnest deliberation, he decided upon "trekking" westward.
Swartboy was ordered to head round, and strike to the west. The Bushman
promptly leaped to his seat upon the voor-kist, cracked his mighty whip,
straightened out his long team, and moved off over the plain.
Hans and Hendrik were already in their saddles; and having cleared the
kraals of all their live stock, with the assistance of the dogs, drove
the lowing and bleating animals before them.
Trüey and little Jan sat beside Swartboy on the fore-chest of the wagon;
and the round full eyes of the pretty springbok could be seen peeping
curiously out from under the cap-tent.
Casting a last look upon his desolate kraal, the field-cornet turned his
horse's head, and rode after the wagon.
CHAPTER VII.
WATER! WATER!
On moved the little caravan, but not in silence. Swartboy's voice and
whip made an almost continual noise. The latter could be plainly heard
more than a mile over the plain, like repeated discharges of a musket.
Hendrik, too, did a good deal in the way of shouting; and even the
usually quiet Hans was under the necessity of using his voice to urge
the flock forward in the right direction.
Occasionally both the boys were called upon to give Swartboy a help with
the leading oxen when those became obstinate or restive, and would turn
out of the track. At such times either Hans or Hendrik would gallop up,
set the heads of the animals right again, and ply the "jamboks" upon
their sides.
This "jambok" is a severe chastener to an obstinate ox. It is an elastic
whip made of rhinoceros or hippopotamus skin,--hippopotamus is the
best,--near six feet long, and tapering regularly from butt to tip.
Whenever the led oxen misbehaved, and Swartboy could not reach them with
his long "voor-slag," Hendrik was ever ready to tickle them with his
tough jambok; and, by this means, frighten them into good behaviour.
Indeed, one of the boys was obliged to be at their head nearly all the
time.
A leader is used to accompany most teams of oxen in South Africa. But
those of the field-cornet had been accustomed to draw the wagon without
one, ever since the Hottentot servants ran away; and Swartboy had driven
many miles with no other help than his long whip. But the strange look
of everything, since the locusts passed, had made the oxen shy and wild;
besides the insects had obliterated every track or path which oxen would
have followed. The whole surface was alike,--there was neither trace nor
mark. Even Von Bloom himself could with difficulty recognise the
features of the country, and had to guide himself by the sun in the sky.
Hendrik stayed mostly by the head of the leading oxen. Hans had no
difficulty in driving the flock when once fairly started. A sense of
fear kept all together, and as there was no herbage upon any side to
tempt them to stray, they moved regularly on.
Von Bloom rode in front to guide the caravan. Neither he nor any of them
had made any change in their costume, but travelled in their everyday
dress. The field-cornet himself was habited after the manner of most
boers, in wide leathern trousers, termed in that country "crackers;" a
large roomy jacket of green cloth, with ample outside pockets; a
fawn-skin waistcoat; a huge white felt hat, with the broadest of brims;
and upon his feet a pair of brogans of African unstained leather, known
among the boers as "feldt-schoenen" (country shoes). Over his saddle lay
a "kaross," or robe of leopard-skins, and upon his shoulder he carried
his "roer"--a large smooth-bore gun, about six feet in length, with an
old-fashioned flint-lock,--quite a load of itself.
This is the gun in which the boer puts all his trust; and although an
American backwoodsman would at first sight be disposed to laugh at such
a weapon, a little knowledge of the boer's country would change his
opinion of the "roer." His own weapon--the small-bore rifle, with a
bullet less than a pea--would be almost useless among the large game
that inhabits the country of the boer. Upon the "karoos" of Africa there
are crack shots and sterling hunters, as well as in the backwoods or on
the prairies of America.
Curving round under the field-cornet's left arm, and resting against his
side, was an immense powder-horn--of such size as could only be produced
upon the head of an African ox. It was from the country of the
Bechuanas, though nearly all Cape oxen grow horns of vast dimensions. Of
course it was used to carry the field-cornet's powder, and, if full, it
must have contained half-a-dozen pounds at least! A leopard-skin pouch
hanging under his right arm, a hunting-knife stuck in his waist-belt,
and a large meerschaum pipe through the band of his hat, completed the
equipments of the trek-boer, Von Bloom.
Hans and Hendrik were very similarly attired, armed, and equipped. Of
course their trousers were of dressed sheep-skin, wide--like the
trousers of all young boers--and they also wore jackets and
"feldt-schoenen," and broad-brimmed white hats. Hans carried a light
fowling-piece, while Hendrik's gun was a stout rifle of the kind known
as a "yäger" an excellent gun for large game. In this piece Hendrik had
great pride, and had learnt to drive a nail with it at nearly a hundred
paces. Hendrik was _par excellence_ the marksman of the party. Each of
the boys also carried a large crescent-shaped powder-horn, with a pouch
for bullets; and over the saddle of each was strapped the robe or
kaross, differing only from their father's in that his was of the rarer
leopard-skin, while theirs were a commoner sort, one of antelope, and
the other of jackal-skin.
Little Jan also wore wide trousers, jacket, "feldt-schoenen," and
broad-brimmed beaver,--in fact, Jan, although scarce a yard high, was,
in point of costume, a type of his father,--a diminutive type of the
boer. Trüey was habited in a skirt of blue woollen stuff, with a neat
bodice elaborately stitched and embroidered after the Dutch fashion, and
over her fair locks she wore a light sun-hat of straw with a ribbon and
strings. Totty was very plainly attired in strong homespun, without any
head-dress. As for Swartboy, a pair of old leathern "crackers" and a
striped shirt were all the clothing he carried, beside his sheep-skin
kaross. Such were the costumes of our travellers.
For full twenty miles the plain was wasted bare. Not a bite could the
beasts obtain, and water there was none. The sun during the day shone
brightly,--too brightly, for his beams were as hot as within the
tropics. The travellers could scarce have borne them had it not been
that a stiff breeze was blowing all day long. But this unfortunately
blew directly in their faces, and the dry karoos are never without dust.
The constant hopping of the locusts with their millions of tiny feet had
loosened the crust of earth: and now the dust rose freely upon the wind.
Clouds of it enveloped the little caravan, and rendered their forward
movement both difficult and disagreeable. Long before night their
clothes were covered, their mouths filled, and their eyes sore.
But all that was nothing. Long before night a far greater grievance was
felt,--the want of water!
In their hurry to escape from the desolate scene at the kraal, Von Bloom
had not thought of bringing a supply in the wagon--a sad oversight, in a
country like South Africa, where springs are so rare, and running
streams so uncertain. A sad oversight indeed, as they now learnt--for
long before night they were all crying out for water--all were equally
suffering from the pangs of thirst.
Von Bloom thirsted, but he did not think of himself, except that he
suffered from self-accusation. He blamed himself for neglecting to bring
a needful supply of water. He was the cause of the sufferings of all the
rest. He felt sad and humbled on account of his thoughtless negligence.
He could promise them no relief--at least none until they should reach
the spring. He knew of no water nearer.
It would be impossible to reach the spring that night. It was late when
they started. Oxen travel slowly. Half the distance would be as much as
they could make by sundown.
To reach the water they would have to travel all night; but they could
not do that for many reasons. The oxen would require to rest--the more
so that they were hungered; and now Von Bloom thought, when too late, of
another neglect he had committed--that was, in not collecting, during
the flight of the locusts, a sufficient quantity of them to have given
his cattle a feed.
This plan is often adopted under similar circumstances; but the
field-cornet had not thought of it: and as but few locusts fell in the
trails where the animals had been confined, they had therefore been
without food since the previous day. The oxen in particular showed
symptoms of weakness, and drew the wagon sluggishly; so that Swartboy's
voice and long whip were kept in constant action.
But there were other reasons why they would have to halt when night came
on. The field-cornet was not so sure of the direction. He would not be
able to follow it by night, as there was not the semblance of a track to
guide him. Besides it would be dangerous to travel by night, for then
the nocturnal robber of Africa--the fierce lion--is abroad.
They would be under the necessity, therefore, of halting for the night,
water or no water.
It wanted yet half-an-hour of sundown when Von Bloom had arrived at this
decision. He only kept on a little farther in hopes of reaching a spot
where there was grass. They were now more than twenty miles from their
starting-point, and still the black "spoor" of the locusts covered the
plain. Still no grass to be seen, still the bushes bare of their leaves,
and barked!
The field-cornet began to think that he was trekking right in the way
the locusts had come. Westward he was heading for certain; he knew that.
But he was not yet certain that the flight had not advanced from the
west instead of the north. If so, they might go for days before coming
upon a patch of grass!
These thoughts troubled him, and with anxious eyes he swept the plain in
front, as well as to the right and left.
A shout from the keen-eyed Bushman produced a joyful effect. He saw
grass in front. He saw some bushes with leaves! They were still a mile
off, but the oxen, as if the announcement had been understood by them,
moved more briskly forward.
Another mile passed over, and they came upon grass, sure enough. It was
a very scanty pasture, though--a few scattered blades growing over the
reddish surface, but in no place a mouthful for an ox. There was just
enough to tantalize the poor brutes without filling their stomachs. It
assured Von Bloom, however, that they had now got beyond the track of
the locusts; and he kept on a little farther in hopes that the pasture
might get better.
It did not, however. The country through which they advanced was a wild,
sterile plain--almost as destitute of vegetation as that over which they
had hitherto been travelling. It no longer owed its nakedness to the
locusts, but to the absence of water.
They had no more time to search for pasture. The sun was already below
the horizon when they halted to "outspan."
A "kraal" should have been built for the cattle, and another for the
sheep and goats. There were bushes enough to have constructed them, but
who of that tired party had the heart to cut them down and drag them to
the spot?
It was labour enough--the slaughtering a sheep for supper, and
collecting sufficient wood to cook it. No kraal was made. The horses
were tied around the wagon. The oxen, cattle, and sheep and goats, were
left free to go where they pleased. As there was no pasture near to
tempt them, it was hoped that, after the fatigue of their long journey,
they would not stray far from the camp-fire, which was kept burning
throughout the night.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE FATE OF THE HERD.
But they did stray.
When day broke, and the travellers looked around them, not a head of the
oxen or cattle was to be seen. Yes, there was one, and one only--the
milch-cow. Totty, after milking her on the previous night, had left her
tied to a bush where she still remained. All the rest were gone, and the
sheep and goats as well.
Whither had they strayed?
The horses were mounted, and search was made. The sheep and goats were
found among some bushes not far off; but it soon appeared that the other
animals had gone clean away.
Their spoor was traced for a mile or two. It led back on the very track
they had come; and no doubt any longer existed that they had returned to
the kraal.
To overtake them before reaching that point, would be difficult, if at
all possible. Their tracks showed that they had gone off early in the
night, and had travelled at a rapid rate--so that by this time they had
most likely arrived at their old home.
This was a sad discovery. To have followed them on the thirsting and
hungry horses would have been a useless work; yet without the yoke-oxen
how was the wagon to be taken forward to the spring?
It appeared to be a sad dilemma they were in; but after a short
consultation the thoughtful Hans suggested a solution of it.
"Can we not attach the horses to the wagon?" inquired he. "The five
could surely draw it on to the spring?"
"What! and leave the cattle behind?" said Hendrik. "If we do not go
after them, they will be all lost, and then----"
"We could go for them afterwards," replied Hans; "but it is not better
first to push forward to the spring; and, after resting the horses a
while, return then for the oxen? They will have reached the kraal by
this time. There they will be sure of water anyhow, and that will keep
them alive till we get there."
The course suggested by Hans seemed feasible enough. At all events, it
was the best plan they could pursue; so they at once set about putting
it in execution. The horses were attached to the wagon in the best way
they could think of. Fortunately some old horse-harness formed part of
the contents of the vehicle, and these were brought out and fitted on,
as well as could be done.
Two horses were made fast to the disselboom as "wheelers;" two others to
the trektow cut to the proper length; and the fifth horse was placed in
front as a leader.
When all was ready, Swartboy again mounted the voor-kist, gathered up
his reins, cracked his whip, and set his team in motion. To the delight
of every one, the huge heavy-laden wagon moved off as freely as if a
full team had been inspanned.
Von Bloom, Hendrik, and Hans, cheered as it passed them; and setting the
milch-cow and the flock of sheep and goats in motion, moved briskly
after. Little Jan and Trüey still rode in the wagon; but the others now
travelled afoot, partly because they had the flock to drive, and partly
that they might not increase the load upon the horses.
They all suffered greatly from thirst, but they would have suffered
still more had it not been for that valuable creature that trotted along
behind the wagon--the cow--"old Graaf," as she was called. She had
yielded several pints of milk, both the night before and that morning;
and this well-timed supply had given considerable relief to the
travellers.
The horses behaved beautifully. Notwithstanding that their harness was
both incomplete and ill-fitted, they pulled the wagon along after them
as if not a strap or buckle had been wanting. They appeared to know that
their kind master was in a dilemma, and were determined to draw him out
of it. Perhaps, too, they smelt the spring-water before them. At all
events, before they had been many hours in harness, they were drawing
the wagon through a pretty little valley covered with green,
meadow-looking sward; and in five minutes more were standing halted near
a cool crystal spring.
In a short time all had drunk heartily, and were refreshed. The horses
were turned out upon the grass, and the other animals browsed over the
meadow. A good fire was made near the spring, and a quarter of mutton
cooked--upon which the travellers dined--and then all sat waiting for
the horses to fill themselves.
The field-cornet, seated upon one of the wagon-chests, smoked his great
pipe. He could have been contented, but for one thing--the absence of
his cattle.
He had arrived at a beautiful pasture-ground--a sort of oäsis in the
wild plains, where there were wood, water, and grass,--everything that
the heart of a "vee-boer" could desire. It did not appear to be a large
tract, but enough to have sustained many hundred head of cattle--enough
for a very fine "stock farm." It would have answered his purpose
admirably; and had he succeeded in bringing on his oxen and cattle, he
would at that moment have felt happy enough. But without them what
availed the fine pasturage? What could he do there without them to stock
it? They were his wealth--at least, he had hoped in time that their
increase would become wealth. They were all of excellent breeds; and,
with the exception of his twelve yoke-oxen, and one or two long-horned
Bechuana bulls, all the others were fine young cows calculated soon to
produce a large herd.
Of course his anxiety about these animals rendered it impossible for him
to enjoy a moment's peace of mind, until he should start back in search
of them. He had only taken out his pipe to pass the time, while the
horses were gathering a bite of grass. As soon as their strength should
be recruited a little, it was his design to take three of the strongest
of them, and with Hendrik and Swartboy, ride back to the old kraal.
As soon, therefore, as the horses were ready for the road again, they
were caught and saddled up; and Von Bloom, Hendrik, and Swartboy,
mounted and set out, while Hans remained in charge of the camp.
They rode at a brisk rate, determined to travel all night, and, if
possible, reach the kraal before morning. At the last point on the route
where there was grass, they off-saddled, and allowed their horses to
rest and refresh themselves. They had brought with them some slices of
the roast mutton, and this time they had not forgotten to fill their
gourd-canteens with water--so that they should not again suffer from
thirst. After an hour's halt they continued their journey.
It was quite night when they arrived at the spot where the oxen had
deserted them; but a clear moon was in the sky, and they were able to
follow back the wheel-tracks of the wagon, that were quite conspicuous
under the moonlight. Now and then to be satisfied, Von Bloom requested
Swartboy to examine the spoor, and see whether the cattle had still kept
the back-track. To answer this gave no great trouble to the Bushman. He
would drop from his horse, and bending over the ground, would reply in
an instant. In every case the answer was in the affirmative. The animals
had certainly gone back to their old home.
Von Bloom believed they would be sure to find them there, but should
they find them _alive_? That was the question that rendered him anxious.
The creatures could obtain water by the spring, but food--where? Not a
bite would they find anywhere, and would not hunger have destroyed them
all before this?
Day was breaking when they came in sight of the old homestead. It
presented a very odd appearance. Not one of the three would have
recognised it. After the invasion of the locusts it showed a very
altered look, but now there was something else that added to the
singularity of its appearance. A row of strange objects seemed to be
placed upon the roof ridge, and along the walls of the kraals. What were
these strange objects, for they certainly did not belong to the
buildings? This question was put by Von Bloom, partly to himself, but
loud enough for the others to hear him.
"_Da vogels_!" (the vultures), replied Swartboy.
Sure enough, it was a string of vultures that appeared along the walls.
The sight of these filthy birds was more than ominous. It filled Von
Bloom with apprehension. What could they be doing there? There must be
carrion near?
The party rode forward. The day was now up, and the vultures had grown
busy. They flapped their shadowy wings, rose from the walls, and
alighted at different points around the house.
"Surely there must be carrion," muttered Von Bloom.
There was carrion, and plenty of it. As the horsemen drew near the
vultures rose into the air, and a score of half-devoured carcasses could
be seen upon the ground. The long curving horns that appeared beside
each carcass, rendered it easy to tell to what sort of animals they
belonged. In the torn and mutilated fragments, Von Bloom recognised the
remains of his lost herd!
Not one was left alive. There could be seen the remains of all of them,
both cows and oxen, lying near the enclosures and on the adjacent
plain--each where it had fallen.
But how had they fallen? That was the mystery.
Surely they could not have perished of hunger, and so suddenly? They
could not have died of thirst, for there was the spring bubbling up
just beside where they lay? The vultures had not killed them! What then?
Von Bloom did not ask many questions. He was not left long in doubt. As
he and his companions rode over the ground, the mystery was explained.
The tracks of lions, hyenas, and jackals, made everything clear enough.
A large troop of these animals had been upon the ground. The scarcity of
game, caused by the migration of the locusts, had no doubt rendered them
more than usually ravenous, and in consequence the cattle became their
prey.
Where were they now? The morning light, and the sight of the house
perhaps, had driven them off. But their spoor was quite fresh. They were
near at hand, and would be certain to return again upon the following
night.
Von Bloom felt a strong desire to be revenged upon the hideous brutes;
and, under other circumstances, would have remained to get a shot at
them. But just then that would have been both imprudent and unprofitable
work. It would be as much as their horses could accomplish, to get back
to camp that night; so, without even entering the old house, they
watered their animals, refilled their calabashes at the spring, and with
heavy hearts once more rode away from the kraal.
CHAPTER IX.
A LION COUCHANT.
They had not proceeded an hundred steps when an object appeared before
them that caused all three to draw bridle suddenly and simultaneously.
That object was a lion!
He was couched upon the plain directly in the path they intended to
take--the very same path by which they had come!
How was it they had not seen him before? He was under the lee of a low
bush; but, thanks to the locusts, this bush was leafless, and its thin
naked twigs formed no concealment for so large a creature as a lion. His
tawny hide shone conspicuously through them.
The truth is, he had not been there when the horsemen passed towards the
kraal. He had just fled from among the carcasses, on seeing them
approach; and had skulked around the walls, and then run to their rear.
He had executed this manoeuvre to avoid an encounter--for a lion reasons
as a man does, though not to the same extent. Seeing the horsemen come
that way, his reasoning powers were strong enough to tell him that they
were not likely to return by the same path. It was more natural they
should continue on. A man, ignorant of all the preceding events
connected with their journey, would have reasoned much in the same way.
If you have been at all observant, you have seen other animals--such as
dogs, deer, hares, or even birds--act just as the lion did on this
occasion.
Beyond a doubt the intellectual process described passed through the
mind of this lion; and he had skulked round to shun an encounter with
the three travellers.
Now a lion will not always act so--though he will in five cases out of
six, or oftener. Hence very erroneous views are held in relation to the
courage of this animal. Some naturalists, led away by what appears to be
a feeling of envy or anger, accuse the lion of downright _cowardice_,
denying him a single noble quality of all those that have from earliest
times been ascribed to him! Others, on the contrary, assert that he
knows no fear, either of man or beast; and these endow him with many
virtues besides courage. Both parties back up their views, not by mere
assertions, but by an ample narration of well-attested facts!
How is this? There is a dilemma here. Both cannot be right in their
opinions? And yet, odd as it may appear to say so, both _are_ right in a
certain sense.
The fact is, some lions are cowardly while others are brave.
The truth of this might be shown by whole pages of facts, but in this
little volume we have no room. I think, however, boy reader, I can
satisfy you with an analogy.
Answer me--Do you know any species of animal, the individuals of which
are exactly alike in character? Think over the dogs of your
acquaintance! Are they alike, or anything near it? Are not some of them
noble, generous, faithful, brave to the death? Are not others mean,
sneaking, cowardly curs? So is it with lions. Now, you are satisfied
that my statement about the lions may be true.
There are many causes to affect the courage and ferocity of the lion.
His age--the state of his stomach--the season of the year--the hour of
the day--but, above all, the sort of hunters that belong to the district
he inhabits.
This last fact appears quite natural to those who believe in the
intellect of animals, which of course _I_ do. It is perfectly natural
that the lion, as well as other animals, should soon learn the character
of his enemy, and fear him or not, as the case may be. Is this not an
old story with us? If I remember aright, we had a talk upon this subject
when speaking of the crocodiles of America. We remarked that the
alligator of the Mississippi rarely attacks man in modern times; but it
has not been always so. The rifle of the alligator-leather hunter has
tamed its ferocity. The very _same species_ in South America eats
Indians by scores every year; and the crocodile of Africa is dreaded in
some parts even more than the lion!
It is asserted that the lions of the Cape are more cowardly in some
districts than in others. They are less brave in those districts where
they have been "jaged" by the courageous and stalwart boer with his long
loud-cracking "roer."
Beyond the frontier, where they have no enemy but the tiny arrow of the
Bushman (who does not desire to kill them!) and the slender "assegai" of
the Bechuana, the lion has little or no fear of man.
Whether the one, before the eyes of our party, was naturally a brave
one, could not yet be told. He was one with a huge black mane, or
"schwart-fore life," as the boers term it; and these are esteemed the
fiercest and most dangerous. The "yellow-maned,"--for there is
considerable variety in the colour of the Cape lions--is regarded as
possessing less courage; but there is some doubt about the truth of
this. The young "black-manes" may often be mistaken for the true yellow
variety, and their character ascribed to him to his prejudice,--for the
swarthy colour of the mane only comes after the lion is many years of
age.
Whether the "schwart-fore life" was a fierce and brave one, Von Bloom
did not stay to think about. It was evident that the edge had been taken
off the animal's appetite. It was evident he did not meditate an attack;
and that had the horsemen chosen to make a détour, and ride peacefully
away, they might have continued their journey without ever seeing or
hearing of him again.
But the field-cornet had no such intention. He had lost his precious
oxen and cattle. _That_ lion had pulled down some of them, at least. The
Dutch blood was up, and if the beast had been the strongest and fiercest
of his tribe, he was bound to be brought out of that bush.
Ordering the others to remain where they were, Von Bloom advanced on
horseback until within about fifty paces of where the lion lay. Here he
drew up, coolly dismounted, passed the bridle over his arm, stuck his
loading-rod into the ground, and knelt down behind it.
You will fancy he would have been safer to have kept his saddle, as the
lion cannot overtake a horse. True; but the lion would have been safer
too. It is no easy matter to fire correctly from any horse; but when the
mark happens to be a grim lion, he is a well-trained steed that will
stand sufficiently firm to admit of a true aim. A shot from the saddle
under such circumstances is a mere chance shot; and the field-cornet was
not in the mood to be satisfied with a chance shot. Laying his roer
athwart the loading-rod, and holding the long barrel steady against it,
he took deliberate aim through the ivory sights.
During all this time the lion had not stirred. The bush was between him
and the hunter; but he could hardly have believed that it sufficed to
conceal him. Far from it. His yellow flanks were distinctly visible
through the thorny twigs, and his head could be seen with his muzzle and
whiskers stained red with the blood of the oxen.
No--he did not believe himself hid. A slight growl, with one or two
shakes of his tail, proved the contrary. He lay still, however, as lions
usually do, until more nearly approached. The hunter, as already stated,
was full fifty yards from him.
Excepting the motion of his tail, he made no other until Von Bloom
pulled trigger; and then with a scream he sprang several feet into the
air. The hunter had been afraid of the twigs causing his bullet to
glance off; but it was plain it had told truly, for he saw the fur fly
from the side of the lion where it struck him.
It was but a wound; and not deadly, as soon appeared.
With long bounds the angry brute came on--lashing his tail, and showing
his fearful teeth. His mane, now on end, seemed to have doubled his
size. He looked as large as a bull!
In a few seconds' time he had crossed the distance that separated him
from the hunter, but the latter was gone far from that spot. The moment
he had delivered his fire, he leaped upon his well-trained horse, and
rode off towards the others.
All three were for a short while together--Hendrik holding his yäger
cocked and ready, while Swartboy grasped his bow and arrows. But the
lion dashed forward before either could fire; and they were obliged to
spur and gallop out of his way.
Swartboy had ridden to one side, while Von Bloom and Hendrik took the
other; and the game was now between the two parties--both of which had
pulled up at some distance off.
The lion, after the failure of his charge, halted, and looked first at
one, then at the other--as if uncertain which to pursue.
His appearance at this moment was terrible beyond expression. His whole
fierce nature was roused. His mane stood erect--his tail lashed his
flanks--his mouth, widely open, showed the firm-set trenchant
teeth--their white spikes contrasting with the red blood that clotted
his cheeks and snout, while his angry roaring added horror to his
appearance.
But none of the three were terrified out of their senses. Hendrik at
this moment covered him with his rifle, took cool aim, and fired; while
at the same instant Swartboy sent an arrow whistling through the air.
Both had aimed truly. Both bullet and arrow struck; and the shaft of the
latter could be seen sticking in the lion's thigh.
The fierce brute that up to this time had exhibited the most determined
courage, now seemed overcome with a sudden fear. Either the arrow or one
of the bullets must have sickened him with the combat; for, dropping his
mop-like tail to a level with the line of his back, he broke away; and,
trotting sulkily forward, sprang in at the door of the kraal!
CHAPTER X.
THE LION IN THE TRAP.
There was something singular in the lion seeking shelter in so unusual a
place; but it showed his sagacity. There was no other cover within
convenient distance, and to have reached any bush that would have
afforded him concealment, since the passage of the locusts, would have
been difficult. The mounted hunters could easily have overtaken him, had
he attempted to run off. He was aware that the house was uninhabited. He
had been prowling around it all the night--perhaps within it--and
therefore knew what sort of a place it was.
The brute's instinct was correct. The walls of the house would protect
him from the guns of his enemies at a distance; and for these to
approach near would be his advantage and their danger.
An odd incident occurred as the lion entered the kraal. There was a
large window in one end of the house. Of course it was not glazed--it
never had been. A glass window is a rarity in these parts. A strong
wooden shutter alone closed it. This was still hanging on its hinges,
but in the hurried "flitting," the window had been left open. The door
also had been standing ajar. As the lion sprang in at the latter, a
string of small foxy wolf-like creatures came pouring out through the
former, and ran with all their might across the plain. They were
jackals!
As it afterwards appeared, one of the oxen had either been chased into
the house by lions or hyenas, and killed there. His carcass had been
overlooked by the larger carnivora, and the cunning jackals had been
making a quiet breakfast upon it, when so unceremoniously disturbed.
The entrance of their terrible king in such angry mood, by the door,
caused the fox-wolves to beat a quick retreat by the window; and the
appearance of the horsemen without had still further frightened these
cowardly brutes, so that they ran away from the kraal at top speed, and
never halted until they were out of sight!
The three hunters could not restrain a laugh; but their tone was
suddenly changed by another incident that happened almost at the same
moment.
Von Bloom had brought with him his two fine dogs, to assist in driving
back the cattle.
During the short halt the party had made by the spring, these had
fastened upon a half-eaten carcass behind the walls; and, being
extremely hungry, had stuck to it, even after the horsemen had ridden
off. Neither of the dogs had seen the lion, until the moment when the
savage brute charged forward, and was making for the kraal. The shots,
the growling of the lion, and the loud wings of the vultures as they
flew off affrighted, told the dogs that something was going on in front,
at which they ought to be present; and, forsaking their pleasant meal,
both came bounding over the walls.
They reached the open space in front, just as the lion leaped into the
door; and without hesitation the brave noble animals rushed on, and
followed him inside the house.
For some moments there was heard a confused chorus of noises--the
barking and worrying of the dogs, the growling and roaring of the lion.
Then a dull sound followed as of some heavy object dashed against the
wall. Then came a mournful howl--another, another--a noise like the
crackling of bones--the "purr" of the great brute with its loud rough
bass--and then a deep silence. The struggle was over. This was evident,
as the dogs no longer gave tongue. Most likely they were killed.
The hunters remained watching the door with feelings of intense anxiety.
The laugh had died upon their lips, as they listened to those hideous
sounds, the signs of the fearful combat. They called their dogs by name.
They hoped to see them issue forth, even if wounded. But no. The dogs
came not forth--they never came forth--they were dead!
A long-continued silence followed the noise of the conflict. Von Bloom
could no longer doubt that his favourite and only dogs had been killed.
Excited by this new misfortune he almost lost prudence. He was about to
rush forward to the door, where he might deliver his fire close to the
hated enemy, when a bright idea came into the brain of Swartboy; and the
Bushman was heard calling out,--
"Baas! baas! we shut him up! we close da skellum up!"
There was good sense in this suggestion--there was plausibility in it.
Von Bloom saw this; and, desisting from his previous intention, he
determined to adopt Swartboy's plan.
But how was it to be executed? The door still hung upon its hinges, as
also the window-shutter. If they could only get hold of these, and shut
them fast, they would have the lion secure, and might destroy him at
their leisure.
But how to shut either door or window in safety? That was the difficulty
that now presented itself.
Should they approach either, the lion would be certain to see them from
within; and, enraged as he now was, would be sure to spring upon them.
Even if they approached on horseback to effect their purpose, they would
not be much safer. The horses would not stand quiet while they stretched
out to lay hold of latch or handle. All three of the animals were
already dancing with excitement. They knew the lion was inside, an
occasional growl announced his presence there--they would not approach
either door or window with sufficient coolness; and their stamping and
snorting would have the effect of bringing the angry beast out upon
them.
It was clear, then, that to shut either door or window would be an
operation of great danger. So long as the horsemen were in open ground,
and at some distance from the lion, they had no cause to fear; but
should they approach near and get entangled among the walls, some one of
them would be most likely to fall a victim to the ferocious brute.
Low as may be the standard of a Bushman's intellect, there is a species
peculiar to him in which he appears to excel. In all matters of
hunter-craft, his intelligence, or instinct you might almost call it, is
quite a match for the more highly-developed mind of the Caucasian. This
arises, no doubt, from the keen and frequent exercise of those
particular faculties,--keen and frequent, because his very existence
often depends on their successful employment.
Huge ill-shapen head that Swartboy carried on his shoulders, there was
an ample stock of brains in it; and a life of keen endeavour to keep his
stomach supplied had taught him their exercise. At that moment
Swartboy's brains came to the relief of the party.
"Baas!" he said, endeavouring to restrain the impatience of his master,
"vyacht um bige, mein baas! Leave it to da ole Bushy to close da door.
He do it."
"How?" inquired Von Bloom.
"Vyacht um bige, mein baas! no long to wait,--you see."
All three had ridden up together within less than an hundred yards of
the kraal. Von Bloom and Hendrik sat silent, and watched the proceedings
of the Bushman.
The latter drew from his pocket a clue of small cord, and, having
carefully uncoiled it, attached one end to an arrow. He then rode up to
within thirty yards of the house, and dismounted--not directly opposite
the entrance, but a little to one side--so that the face of the wooden
door, which was fortunately but three-quarters open, was thus fair
before him. Keeping the bridle over his arm, he now bent his bow, and
sent the arrow into the woodwork of the door. There it was, sticking
near the edge, and just under the latch!
As soon as Swartboy delivered the shaft, he had leaped back into his
saddle--to be ready for retreat in case the lion should charge out. He
still, however, kept hold of the string, one end of which was attached
to the arrow.
The "thud" of the arrow, as it struck the door, had drawn the attention
of the lion. Of course, none of them saw him, but his angry growl told
them that it was so. He did not show himself, however, and was again
silent.
Swartboy now drew the string taut,--first felt it with a steady pull;
and then, satisfied of its strength, gave it a stronger jerk, and
brought the door to. The latch acted beautifully, and the door remained
shut even after the strain was taken off the cord.
To have opened the door now the lion must have had the sagacity to lift
the latch, or else must have broken through the thick, strong
planks--neither of which things was to be feared.
But the window still remained open, and through it the lion could easily
leap out. Swartboy, of course, designed closing it in the same manner as
he had done the door.
But now arose a particular danger. He had only one piece of cord. That
was attached to the arrow that still stuck fast. How was he to detach
and get possession of it?
There appeared to be no other way but by going up to the door and
cutting it from the shaft. In this lay the danger; for, should the lion
perceive him and rush out by the window, it would be all over with the
Bushman.
Like most of his race, Swartboy was more cunning than brave--though he
was far from being a coward. Still he was by no means inclined at that
moment to go up to the door of the kraal.
The angry growls from within would have made a stouter heart than
Swartboy's quail with fear.
In this dilemma Hendrik came to his relief. Hendrik had conceived a way
of getting possession of the string, without going near the door!
Calling to Swartboy to be on his guard, he rode within thirty yards of
the entrance--but on the other side from where Swartboy was--and there
halted. At the place there stood a post with several forks upon it, that
had been used as a bridle-post.
Hendrik dismounted, hooked his rein over one of these forks; rested his
yäger across another; and then, sighting the shaft of the arrow, pulled
trigger. The rifle cracked, the broken stick was seen to fly out from
the door, and the string was set free!
All were ready to gallop off; but the lion, although he growled fiercely
on hearing the shot, still lay close.
Swartboy now drew in the string; and, having adjusted it to a fresh
arrow, moved round so as to command a view of the window. In a few
minutes the shaft had cut through the air and stuck deep into the
yielding wood, and then the shutter swung round on its hinges, and was
drawn close.
All three now dismounted, ran silently and rapidly up, and secured both
door and shutter with strong rheins of raw hide.
"Hurrah! the lion was caged."
CHAPTER XI.
THE DEATH OF THE LION.
Yes, the fierce brute was fairly in the trap. The three hunters breathed
freely.
But how was the affair to end? Both door and window-shutter fitted
strongly and closely; and, although it was possible to glance through
the chinks, nothing could be seen inside--since, both being shut, it was
quite dark within.
Even could the lion have been seen, there was no hole through which to
thrust the muzzle of a gun and fire at him. He was just as safe as his
captors; and, so long as the door remained closed, they could do him no
more harm than he could them.
They might leave him shut up, and let him starve. He could live for a
while upon what the jackals had left, with the carcasses of the two
dogs, but that would not sustain him long, and in the end he would have
to give up and miserably perish. After all, this did not seem so certain
to Von Bloom and his companions. Finding that he was caged in earnest,
the brute might attack the door, and with his sharp claws and teeth
manage to cut his way through.
But the angry field-cornet had not the slightest intention of leaving
the lion such a chance. He was determined to destroy the beast before
leaving the ground; and he now set to thinking how this could be
accomplished in the speediest and most effectual manner.
At first he thought of cutting a hole in the door with his knife, large
enough to see through and admit the barrel of his roer. Should he not
succeed in getting a view of the beast through that one, he would make
another in the window-shutter. The two being on adjacent sides of the
house, would give him the command of the whole interior--for the former
dwelling of the field-cornet comprised only a single apartment. During
his residence there, there had been two, thanks to a partition of
zebra-skins; but these had been removed, and all was now in one room.
At first Von Bloom could think of no other plan to get at the enemy, and
yet this one did not quite please him. It was safe enough, and, if
carried out, could only end in the death of the lion.
A hole in both door and window-shutter would enable them to fire at the
brute as many bullets as they pleased, while they would be quite secure
from his attack. But the time that would be required to cut these
holes--that was why the plan did not please the field-cornet. He and his
party had no time to spare; their horses were weak with hunger, and a
long journey lay before them ere a morsel could be obtained. No,--the
time could not be spared for making a breach. Some more expeditious mode
of attack must be devised.
"Father," said Hendrik, "suppose we set the house on fire?"
Good. The suggestion was a good one. Von Bloom cast his eyes up to the
roof--a sloping structure with long eaves. It consisted of heavy beams
of dry wood with rafters and laths, and all covered over with a thatch
of rushes, a foot in thickness. It would make a tremendous blaze, and
the smoke would be likely enough to suffocate the lion even before the
blaze could get at him.
The suggestion of Hendrik was adopted. They prepared to fire the house.
There was still a large quantity of rubbish,--the collected firewood
which the locusts had not devoured. This would enable them to carry out
their purpose; and all three immediately set about hauling it up, and
piling it against the door.
One might almost have fancied that the lion had fathomed their design;
for, although he had been for a long while quite silent, he now
commenced a fresh spell of roaring. Perhaps the noise of the logs,
striking against the door outside, had set him at it; and, finding
himself thus shut up and baited, he had grown impatient. What he had
sought as a shelter had been turned into a trap, and he was now anxious
to get out of it.
This was evident by the demonstrations he began to make. They could hear
him rushing about--passing from door to window--striking both with his
huge paws, and causing them to shake upon their hinges--all the while
uttering the most fiendish roars.
Though not without some apprehensions, the three continued their work.
They had their horses at hand, ready to be mounted in case the lion
might make his way through the fire. In fact, they intended to take to
their saddles--as soon as the fire should be fairly under way--and watch
the conflagration from a safe distance.
They had dragged up all the bush and dry wood, and had piled them in
front of the door. Swartboy had taken out his flint and steel, and was
about to strike, when a loud scratching was heard from the inside,
unlike anything that had yet reached their ears. It was the rattling of
the lion's claws against the wall, but it had an odd sound as if the
animal was struggling violently; at the same time his voice seemed
hoarse and smothered, and appeared to come from a distance.
[Illustration: THE LION IN A FIX.]
What was the brute doing?
They stood for a moment, looking anxiously in each other's faces.
The scratching continued--the hoarse growling at intervals--but this
ended at length; and then came a snort, followed by a roar so loud and
clear, that all three started in affright. They could not believe that
walls were between them and their dangerous enemy!
Again echoed that horrid cry. Great Heaven! It proceeded no longer from
the inside--it came from above them!
Was the lion upon the roof?
All three rushed backward a step or two, and looked up. A sight was
before them that rendered them almost speechless with surprise and
terror.
Above the funnel of the chimney appeared the head of the lion; his
glaring yellow eyes and white teeth showing more fearful from contrast
with the black soot that begrimed him. He was dragging his body up. One
foot was already above the capstone; and with this and his teeth he was
widening the aperture around him.
It was a terrible sight to behold--at least to those below.
As already stated they were alarmed; and would have taken to their
horses, had they not perceived that the animal was stuck fast!
It was evident that this was the case, but it was equally evident that
in a few moments he would succeed in clearing himself from the chimney.
His teeth and claws were hard at work, and the stones and mortar were
flying in all directions. The funnel would soon be down below his broad
chest, and then----
Von Bloom did not stay to think what then. He and Hendrik, guns in hand,
ran up near the bottom of the wall. The chimney was but a score of feet
in height; the long roer was pointed upward, reaching nearly half that
distance. The yäger was also aimed. Both cracked together. The lion's
eyes suddenly closed, his head shook convulsively, his paw dropped loose
over the capstone, his jaws fell open, and blood trickled down his
tongue. In a few moments he was dead!
This was apparent to every one. But Swartboy was not satisfied, until he
had discharged about a score of his arrows at the head of the animal,
causing it to assume the appearance of a porcupine.
So tightly had the huge beast wedged himself, that even after death he
still remained in his singular situation.
Under other circumstances he would have been dragged down for the sake
of his skin. But there was no time to spare for skinning him; and
without further delay, Von Bloom and his companions mounted their horses
and rode off.
CHAPTER XII.
THE TRAVELLERS BENIGHTED
Our travellers would have talked much about lions, but for the condition
of their horses. This made them feel uneasy. With the exception of a few
hours grazing, the poor brutes had been without food since the
appearance of the locusts. Horses do not travel well upon soft grass,
and of course they were now suffering severely.
It would be far in the night before the horsemen could reach the
camp--although they were pushing on as fast as the horses could travel.
It was quite dark, when they arrived at the spot where they had halted
the previous evening. In fact, it was very dark. Neither moon nor stars
were to be seen in the sky; and thick black clouds covered the whole
canopy of the heavens. It looked as though a rain-storm might be
expected--still no rain had as yet fallen.
It was the intention of the travellers to halt at this place, and let
their horses graze a while. With this view they all dismounted; but,
after trying one or two places, they could find no grass!
This appeared strange, as they had certainly observed grass at that very
spot the day before. Now there was none!
The horses put their noses to the ground, but raised them up again,
snorting as they did so, and evidently disappointed. They were hungry
enough to have eaten grass had there been any, for they eagerly snatched
at the leaves of the bushes as they passed along!
Had the locusts been there also? No. The mimosa-bushes still retained
their delicate foliage, which would not have been the case had the
locusts visited the spot.
Our travellers were astonished that there was no grass. Surely there was
some the day before? Had they got upon a new track?
The darkness prevented them from having a view of the ground; yet Von
Bloom could not be mistaken about the route--having travelled it four
times already. Though he could not see the surface, every now and again
he caught a glimpse of some tree or bush, which he had marked in his
former journeys, and these assured him they were still upon the right
track.
Surprised at the absence of grass where they had so lately observed it,
they would have examined the surface more carefully; but they were
anxious to push on to the spring, and at length gave up the idea of
halting. The water in their gourds had been used up long before this;
and both they and their horses were once more suffering from thirst.
Besides, Von Bloom was not without some anxiety about the children at
the wagon. He had been separated from them now a full day and a half,
and many a change might take place--many a danger might arise in that
time. In fact, he began to blame himself for having left them alone. It
would have been better to have let his cattle perish. So thought he now.
A presentiment that all was not right was gradually forming in his mind;
and he grew more anxious to proceed as he reflected.