A LION'S CHARGE
They turned in very early after banking up leaves over the fires
under the biltong strips, to give them a good smoking during the
night, but in the small hours, when the night is at its quietest,
the moonlight, shining on Venning's face, woke him. The fires were
glowing bright, altogether too bright for safety, and he rose to
cover the glare with some green leaves. He looked at his sleeping
companions, for all, tired out by disturbed nights, slept on, except
the jackal, which had one eye open.
Venning sat awhile looking down upon the dim uncertain shadows that
came and went, as a fleecy mist-like cloud passed overhead. Beyond
the fitful murmur of the wind there was no sound but the hooting of
a great homed owl somewhere from the woods above. Drawing his
blanket round him, and picking up his gun, he walked to a point on
the right overlooking the bed of the little river, and there he sat
down with his back to a rock and his gun over his knees. Scarcely
was he seated when the jackal startled him by its sudden appearance
at his side. He scratched its ears, and it sat close to him, staring
fixedly down on the river. Just below there was a stretch of sand in
the bed gleaming white under the moonlight, and Venning watched this
with the eye of a naturalist, in the hope of seeing some of the
great forms of animal life. And he had his hope, for several
creatures crossed the white patch, and each time the jackal was the
first to see them. The round ears would suddenly prick forward, the
sharp nose would twitch, and then Venning would dimly discover
something down there in the uncertain light. A porcupine he made
out, its quills gleaming and rustling as it went down to the water;
then a great wart-pig with curved tusks; and next, after a long
interval, a fine buck with long powerful horns. A water-buck he
judged it to be from the length of its horns, and it stood there
long with its face up-stream, motionless, save for the constant
twitching of the large ears. He rested his elbows on his knees as he
sat and aimed at the shoulders, but did not fire, for fear of
alarming the camp; and presently the buck, even as he watched,
vanished as softly and silently as it came. Then Venning's eyes
closed, his chin dropped, the gun settled between his knees, and he
was asleep.
He was asleep, and he was awake again so suddenly that he did not
know he had slept until he saw the position of the gun. The jackal
plucked at his blanket. He remembered that something had disturbed
him, and he judged that the jackal had done the same thing just
before. He yawned and patted its head; but, instead of sitting down,
it ran a few yards, sniffed the air, whined, came back, glanced long
over its shoulder into the riverbed, looked into Venning's face,
then ran off in the direction of the camp. As soon as it was gone
Venning felt lonely. He stood up, thinking to return to the camp,
then sat down again, for he heard the sharp stamp that an antelope
makes when alarmed, and he hoped to see it come into the moonlight.
So he settled down to watch again, and drowsiness fell upon his
eyes. He could see the white patch of sand, and as his heavy lids
were lowered and lifted between the drowsy intervals, he became
dimly conscious that there was something on the sand. Yes; there it
was, something grey, short, and thick. A donkey, he told himself.
He smiled sleepily. A donkey! It was strange to see the old familiar
form out there in the wilderness. He wondered dreamily where it came
from; then a shadow cast by the moon on a passing cloud blotted out
the river-bed. He rubbed his eyes, and when the cloud had gone there
were two animals--donkeys, unmistakably--one larger than the other,
both with their heads turned upwards towards him. Another cloud
sailed by, and when it had passed he missed them, and, his curiosity
roused, he rubbed his eyes again for a closer scrutiny. Surely that
was not a bush on the bank? No! it moved. The donkeys were coming
towards him. One of them, the larger, moved forward quickly, then
stopped. Then a chill ran through him, his heart grew weak, his
breathing grew sharp, and the sweat suddenly started out all over
his face and body. That was no donkey standing there, with its huge
head now sunk almost to the ground, now lifted high, as it tried to
make out what manner of living creature it was crouching there by
the rock above!
Venning felt the hair stir on his head as the two animals stood
gazing at him, and then he knew. The one behind sank to the ground,
and with long steps began to creep round to the right. The moon
struck along its side, and showed the tawny hide and the whitish
under-parts of a lioness. The other, then, was a lion! With a sort
of gurgling in his throat he turned his eyes to it, and he saw it
trotting up straight for him, its shaggy mane giving to its head and
shoulders an enormous size. He felt spell-bound, incapable of moving
hand or foot. It was the silence of the ferocious beasts that
paralyzed him. Then the jackal howled behind him, and his blood
rushed through his veins. His tongue no longer clave to the roof of
his mouth, and when the great beast was within ten yards of him, he
let forth a terrific yell and jumped to his feet, with his rifle in
his hands.
The lion stopped suddenly in its charge with a low harsh grunt of
surprise. Never before in its hunting had it heard such a wild
uncanny noise. In one motion it stopped in its charge and swerved to
the right, and as it swerved the boy fired. The lion gave a mighty
bound, he heard it strike the ground with a heavy thud, and then it
seemed to disappear, though he knew it was near from the low
growling it set up.
From the camp there came a confused shouting, followed by the sound
of a man running.
Venning moistened his lips. "Look out," he shouted, "there is a lion
here."
"Where are you?"
"Here, by this rock."
"Stay there, and keep quite still."
The growling increased, and once more the same paralysis attacked
the boy so that he could scarcely breathe. Then some one stood at
his side, and the fear went from him at once.
"He's over there, somewhere; but I can't see him."
"I can. Get round the rock, my boy. He's lying flat with his head
between his paws, and it's a mercy you did not fire again and draw
his charge."
Venning moved round the rock, and Mr. Hume slowly followed. He
stopped awhile to listen to the incessant growling.
"You've hit him, but not, I think, mortally; anyway, we'll leave
him, if he will leave us. Move on towards the camp quietly--don't
run."
"No, sir," said Venning; but it required an effort not to make a
bolt for it when he saw the friendly gleam of the fire.
Mr. Hume followed slowly, with his head over his shoulder, towards
the place where the growling came from. When he reached the fire he
gave a great sigh of relief.
"Thank God. Now tell us what happened, my boy;" and he put his hand
on Venning's arm.
Venning started violently, for just then from the river there came a
harsh, growling call; and no sooner had it ceased than the ground
shook to a terrific roar.
"The lion answers the lioness," said the chief, calmly.
"Throw a little wood on the fire, Muata. Now, my lad."
Venning told his story, and Compton listened with intense
excitement; but the hunter treated the whole thing calmly, with set
purpose. He had in his experience seen the effect of a terrible
shock, in the complete breakdown of the victim, and, personally, he
had known one man die from the shock to his system caused exactly by
the sudden and unexpected appearance of a lion at night. He kept
Venning's thoughts off the mental picture of the charging lion until
dawn, when all hands prepared for the hunt.
"If you hit him hard he will be lying near, and I guess it will be a
different matter meeting him by daylight--eh, my lad?"
Venning looked into the hunter's calm eyes, and felt strong. He went
straight to the rock against which he had crouched, and pointed to
the deep scars made in the hard ground by the sharp claws as the
lion had stopped his charge and wheeled.
Compton measured the distance from the rock to the claw-marks.
"Fifteen feet! By Jove! it was a narrow squeak. I would have yelled
like fits."
"I did yell."
Muata pointed to the ground.
"Blood spoor, eh? You did hit him. Put the jackal on the track,
chief," said Mr. Hume.
The jackal took one sniff at the ground, stared sharply around, then
peered up into his master's face.
"Search," said the chief, in his own tongue. "Follow the great one,
O little friend. The trail is laid; the great one has sought out a
moist spot; he lies angry and sore in the shade. Search and find."
The jackal looked intently into the chiefs face, sniffed at the
ground, ran forward a few yards, stopped, sniffed again with lifted
mane at a spot where the grass was pressed down, threw up his head
with eyes half closed, then ran down towards the river, stopping on
the bank to look back.
"That is where he joined his mate. There is the spoor on the sand
going and returning. That is the round pad of the lion; just note
and compare it with the pads of the lioness over there. Just look,
and read the writing."
The two boys looked at the marks in the sand, and followed them down
to the moist ground on the edge of the water.
"They entered the river side by side," they said.
"That is plain; but the writing tells another story. See, this
footprint here is faint--very faint, eh? He did not rest his weight
on his left fore-foot. Why, eh?"
"Because the bullet struck the left front leg," they both said.
"They learn the signs, Muata. They will be hunters yet. Tell them if
the lion be hard hit, chief."
Muata waded into the river, which reached to his armpits at the
deepest, and bent over something on the further shore. They
undressed, and waded through to him.
"Congela," he said, pointing to the bank. "The great ones came out
here. The great, great one was not sore hurt, for he came right
through, using all his feet to swim."
"It will be luck, then, if we find him," said the hunter.
"Bad luck," muttered Compton to Venning, with a grin.
"Forward, little friend!" cried Muata. "Search and find. It is a
great hunt this day. We follow the hunter of all things."
They slipped into their clothes and followed at a trot after the
jackal, which ran straight on, its bushy tail held low. It followed
the river down for a mile or so, then stopped, looking back at its
master.
Mr. Hume and the chief stood silently inspecting the hard ground,
then they walked on a few yards. The same thoughts seemed to come to
each, as the boys judged from their actions; for from the ground
their eyes ranged over the land, then were turned skywards. Muata
pointed a finger at a ringed crow flying with bent head.
"They killed," said Mr. Hume.
"Oh!! They killed."
"You see," said the hunter to the two boys, "the pair crouched here;
these circular marks in the sand were made by the swing of the
tails. They sighted game. One of them--the lioness, no doubt--worked
round to drive the game towards the lion."
"It is a guess," said Compton. "Perhaps the lion stopped because of
his hurt."
"No; the bleeding has stopped. They not only sighted game, but the
lioness drove it from the river-bed towards the lion, and the lion
brought it down."
"Oh, come," said Compton. "How can you tell that?"
"From the spoor"--laconically. "He sprang twice--here, where he
alighted the first time; and the second spring landed him on to the
neck of an antelope powerful enough to struggle on into that thicket
of reeds. There the two of them pulled it down."
"And there he is!" shouted Venning.
He pointed to the right of the reeds, and there was a great
yellowish beast walking away at a slow walk, with its head sunk.
"The lioness," said the hunter. "Venning, keep by me, but a little
behind. Compton, when I whistle, fire into the reeds."
Compton nodded his head, and the two went off, while Muata sat down
as a spectator.
Mr. Hume walked steadily up to within fifty paces of the reeds on
the upper side, then whistled. Immediately Compton fired.
The lion was there. He signified his presence by a low growl, but he
did not move. Compton fired again, and this time the reeds shook,
and a great shaggy head appeared, with its yellow eyes fixed on the
boy. Mr. Hume made a slight noise, and the great head turned at once
in his direction. For a moment the lion exchanged glances, then with
a growl he turned into the reeds to reappear further on, going
slowly in the direction of the lioness.
"It is your shot, Godfrey; take him just behind the shoulder."
Venning's heart was thumping against his ribs; but he steadied
himself for the shot, and fired. The lion sprang forward, snarling,
and faced about towards his enemies. Then up went his tail, and with
a savage growl he charged straight down to within about thirty feet,
when he stood for a moment, as is the way of the charging lion if
his enemy stands fast. The pause was enough; and before the huge
muscles of the flanks and backs could be set in motion to hurl the
great body forward, a bullet, crashing into his breast, laid him out
helpless in the throes of death.
"Your first lion, Godfrey."
"But you killed him," said Venning, pulling himself together with a
great effort; for he had been through a very severe ordeal.
"The first hit counts. See here, your bullet last night struck him
above the elbow, just missing the bone, and your second shot hit him
low down in the ribs."
"My word," said Compton, as he came up, his eyes blazing with
excitement, "it was grand to see that charge. Yes, and to see how
you two stood. My heart was in my mouth."
"It's a simple shot," said the hunter. "All you have to do is to
keep perfectly cool and wait for the lion to come to his stand."
"Very easy," muttered Compton, with a grimace, as he looked at the
white fangs and the cruel-looking claws, finishing off that mighty
weapon the lion's forearm, capable of battering in a man's head at
one blow.
The chief stood looking from the lion to the hunter. "Ye be
brothers," he said, "ye two; both great men of the hunt; chiefs by
your own right wherever you go."
"When I was young," said Mr. Hume, "I shot lions for the pride of
the victory; but long since I gave that up, and only when a lion
seeks me have I gone out to kill him."
"Ye be brothers," said the chief. "The great one stands alone, for
he is merciful in his strength. The spotted one kills for the love
of killing. He will kill, if the chance comes, many times more than
he can eat. The warrior will slay of his enemies all his spear can
reach. The great one eats and is satisfied. The rest may live till
he be hungry. I know, for I have met him face to face in the path. I
say to him, '''Inkose' (chief), the path is yours.' I have stood
aside, and the 'inkose' has gone on his way in peace.'
"If you carried a rifle, chief, it might be otherwise. Take the
claws, Venning; we cannot find room for the skin."
The claws were cut off, and they returned to the camp for breakfast.