In hopes of getting a shot at it on the wing, the boys crouched behind
the boulders as it flew round, holding their guns in readiness. It
passed them at too great a distance, and none of them fired.
They expected to see it fly off, and wing its way towards the
neighbouring mountains--as it could only be a stray visitor to the hill,
some hungry old eagle out upon a hunt.
It was about to do this; for it had already risen to a considerable
elevation, and was heading away, when all at once it stopped suddenly in
its flight, and balanced itself for some moments in the air, with neck
bent downward, as if it had taken a fresh interest in some object that
had just come under its eye below.
Had the rock-rabbits ventured forth again? No. It could not be they;
for the eagle was hovering over a different quarter--quite the opposite
side of the mountain. If rock-rabbits were in sight, they must be a
different party. That was not improbable. There might be others upon
the mountain. And yet the eagle would not hover above _them_ in that
way. The habit of this species is not to "swoop" from on high, but to
watch from a perch upon some neighbouring rock, and dash upon the hyrax,
when it comes out to feed or bask--precisely as the boys had seen it do.
So quick is the rock-rabbit in escaping to its retreat, that even an
eagle, darting from a high elevation, would fail to clutch it. Had
there been rock-rabbits below, they would have perceived the great black
bird above, and would have secured themselves at once. It could not be
they that were now occupying the attention of the vulture-eagle.
It was _not_ they. Hans, who with his double-barrel had hoped to obtain
a shot at the eagle, and had crept ahead of his companions to the other
side of the tower-rock, saw that it was not rock-rabbits that had caused
the eagle to pause in its flight, but some creatures of a very different
character.
About half-way down the slope grew a sandal-wood tree, one of the
largest upon the mountain, with a full bushy top. Directly, under this
tree was a mass of tabular rock, with a smooth top, quite horizontal,
and several yards in length and breadth. Over this, and nearly covering
its whole extent, the sandal-wood threw its protecting shadow; so that
while the hot sun baked down upon the surrounding slope, the surface of
the rock was kept shaded and cool. It was just such a spot as one would
have chosen to have rested upon, commanding a far view of plains and
picturesque mountains, and sweetly shaded from the burning noonday
beams--just such a spot as the contemplative mind would have desired,
and in which, freed from care, it could have delivered itself up to
pleasant meditations.
One cannot help fancying that many of God's wild creatures, in selecting
their haunts and homes, have an eye to the picturesque. I can tell at a
glance the cliff in which an eagle will make its eyrie, the glade that
will be haunted by the stag or the fallow-deer, the tree under which he
will repose, and oft times it has appeared to me that these favourite
haunts are chosen by animals less for the security they afford, than for
the picturesque beauty that surrounds them.
One could hardly have fancied that lone wild mountain--that smooth
table-rock--that fragrant sandal-wood tree--without some living thing
placed there by Nature to enjoy the scene, and give life to the
picture--which would otherwise have been incomplete.
It was not incomplete. It was crowned and perfect. The shade of the
sandal-wood fell not in vain. Upon the surface of the table-rock was a
group of living creatures born to enjoy that wild and lovely scene--
created, as it were, to give a finish to the picture.
There were three individuals in this group--three quadrupeds of a kind
that had not been seen by the young yagers since the setting out of
their expedition. Though these animals wore a similar coat of hair, and
were of the same yellowish olive colour, all three were of different
sizes. The largest was scarce so tall as a pointer-dog, while the
smallest was still less than a tiny young kid. The second was not
half-way between the two, but nearly equal in size to the largest. The
principal difference between the latter two lay in the fact that the
large one had a pair of horns upon its head, which the other wanted.
There were no horns neither upon their tiny little companion. For all
this difference, the three were evidently of the same genus and species,
nay, nearer relations still--of the same _family_. They were a family
of _klipspringers_.
Hans knew at once it was the klipspringer, (_Oreotragus saltatrix_), and
so did all the others--for this interesting antelope is still found
within the settled districts of the Cape Colony--wherever high
inaccessible cliffs and rock-covered mountains afford it a secure
retreat from dog, hunter, and hyena.
Among the many interesting forms of the antelope tribe, that present
themselves in South Africa, the klipspringer is not the least
interesting. Though a very small creature, and of no great value to the
hunter, it differs so much in its haunts and habits from others of the
antelope race, as to make it an object of curiosity, even where it is
common and often seen. Unlike the oryx, the gnoo, the hartebeest, the
blesbok, the eland, and a host of others, the klipspringer never appears
upon the plain. It is purely a mountain-dwelling animal, and the crag
and cliff are its favourite haunts. There it is safe from the
carnivorous beasts--the lion, the hyena, the wild-hounds, and the
jackal--none of which can reach its secure retreat upon the ledges of
the beetling precipice. Even the leopard cannot follow it there--
notwithstanding his recurved claws that enable him to climb like a cat.
On the steep cliffs, and along the dizzy heights, the klipspringer has
no equal in South Africa; he can scale them as no other quadruped; he
fears no four-footed _beast_ of prey. Three birds alone are his
dangerous enemies--and these are the eagle of Verreaux, the Kaffir
eagle, and the lammergeyer.
The klipspringer stands about twenty inches in height is strongly and
compactly built, with stouter limbs than the small antelopes of the
plain. His horns are but four inches in length, rise vertically up from
his head, and incline slightly forward. They are wrinkled at the base,
and ringed in the middle. The hair that covers his body is long, wiry,
and thickly placed upon the skin; and standing out upon end, gives the
animal somewhat of a porcupine appearance. The colour is a nearly
uniform yellowish olive, caused by the individual hairs being
ash-coloured at the base, brown in the middle, and yellow at the tips.
One of the most characteristic points about the klipspringer is the
formation of its hoofs. These, instead of being long and pointed--as is
the case with most antelopes--are cylindrical in form, and rest
vertically upon their bases. They are jagged at the edges--so as to
give the animal the power of adhering to the smoothest rock, without
danger of slipping. Like every piece of Nature's handiwork, they are
perfectly adapted to the use for which they are intended.
The klipspringer is not gregarious; but is seen in pairs, or _families_,
as they now appeared under the eyes of the young yagers.
When Hans first noticed them, they were in different attitudes. The
buck was standing upon the rock looking out over the plain below, but
had not as yet perceived the eagle--as the thick leafy top of the
sandal-wood interposed between him and it.
The doe was lying down; while, kneeling beside her, and drawing
nourishment from her teats, was the little kidling.
Presently, the black shadow of the soaring bird passed over the
greensward of the plain. It moved under the eyes of the buck, who,
perceiving it, started suddenly, uttered a kind of hissing snort, and
struck the rock with his hoof. This movement on his part brought the
doe at once to her feet, as well as the little fawn; and all three stood
in an attitude of observation, turning their eyes now upon the shadow
below, and now glancing suspiciously above. After a moment they all
commenced leaping about, though they still kept upon the rock. They saw
the eagle, for it had now moved out some distance over the plain, so
that the foliage of the tree was no longer interposed between it and
them.
It was just at this moment that the eagle had paused in its flight, and
hung poised in the air. It had for the first time placed its eyes upon
the klipspringers.
In a moment the rapacious creature perceived the little fawn, cowering
close behind the body of its mother; and without more ado, the bird
directed its flight downward; and, when nearer, swooped straight at the
group upon the rock.
Sudden as was the dash of the bird, it was a fruitless effort, and it
rose again without having made a victim.
But when the spectators looked for the antelopes, not one of the three
remained upon the table, where they had stood the moment before! As
quick as the flight of the bird, all three had sprung off from the rock,
and thus escaped from its dreaded claws.
One would have supposed that the klipspringers would have hid themselves
in crevices, as the conies had done. Not so. All three were seen--each
standing conspicuously upon the top of a rock, and seeming to await the
further action of the bird. With heads erect, and eyes turned upward,
they stood, evidently expecting a renewal of the attack. The eagle,
after hovering around and calculating its distance, swooped again.
In this fresh attempt of the tyrant the little fawn alone was aimed at.
Had it been the others, they would have sprung out of reach as before;
and so, too, did the fawn repeatedly, bounding from rock to rock, with
the elasticity of an india-rubber ball. But the wily bird continued the
attack, turning each time in shorter circles, until the tiny limbs of
the youthful antelope trembled with weariness. During all this time the
old ones leaped about, bounding high in the air, and descending upon the
sharpest edges of the rocks, as if they had alighted from a flight with
wings. The object of their movements evidently was to draw the attack
of the eagle upon themselves, and thus save their offspring.
It was to no purpose, however. The cunning ravisher preferred making a
victim of the kid, and paid no attention to the manoeuvres of the old
ones. No doubt, there were eaglets on the neighbouring mountain, and
the tenderest venison was wanted for their dinner.
At all events, the eagle continued to assail the poor little fawn, until
the latter had no longer strength left to leap from the rock upon which
it had taken its last stand.
Another dash made the eagle--a last and final swoop. Its talons closed
like a cramp upon the vertebrae of the tiny quadruped, which the next
moment was borne aloft into the air!
A shrill sad bleating was heard from below--drowned for an instant by
the discharge of several guns, whose reports echoed like thunder from
the rocks; and then the winged robber, with his victim still clutched in
his talons, was seen falling with fluttering wings to the earth!