OSCAR IN AFRICA
BY
HARRY CASTLEMON
AUTHOR OF "GUNBOAT SERIES," "ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES,"
"WAR SERIES," ETC., ETC.
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.,
PHILADELPHIA,
CHICAGO, TORONTO.
Copyright, 1882, by JAMES ELVERSON.
Copyright, 1894, by PORTER & COATES.
[Illustration: OSCAR'S NARROW ESCAPE.]
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. AN INQUISITIVE LANDLORD, 1
II. AFRICAN TREACHERY, 12
III. A DISGUSTED SPORTSMAN, 23
IV. THE MUSEUM, 33
V. COMPLIMENTS AND ORDERS, 44
VI. AN ENGLISH NIMROD, 54
VII. OFF FOR AFRICA, 65
VIII. AN INCIDENT OF THE PAST, 77
IX. OSCAR MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE, 90
X. A BAFFLED SWINDLER, 103
XI. OSCAR COMPLETES HIS OUTFIT, 113
XII. OSCAR SEES A CHANCE TO GET EVEN, 124
XIII. HOW OSCAR GOT EVEN, 136
XIV. LETTERS FROM HOME, 148
XV. A GOOD SHOT AND A SURPRISE, 158
XVI. A TASTE OF CIVILIZED LIFE, 167
XVII. A MIDNIGHT ALARM, 177
XVIII. OSCAR REACHES HIS HUNTING-GROUNDS, 187
XIX. A FIGHT AND A RETREAT, 199
XX. A COWARDLY AFTER-RIDER, 210
XXI. AN AFRICAN CONCERT, 221
XXII. WHAT MCCANN DID, 232
XXIII. THE SENTINEL KOODOO, 244
XXIV. THE BATTLE IN THE GROVE, 254
XXV. MORE SPECIMENS, 264
XXVI. A CALL FROM A HONEY-BIRD, 273
XXVII. A SCRAP OF EVIDENCE, 284
XXVIII. OSCAR SHOWS HIS COURAGE, 296
XXIX. "THE CHARGE OF THE HEAVY BRIGADE," 306
XXX. OSCAR'S ASSISTANT HUNTERS, 315
XXXI. GOOD-BY, MCCANN, 325
XXXII. OFF FOR THE COAST, 337
OSCAR IN AFRICA.
CHAPTER I.
AN INQUISITIVE LANDLORD.
"Who is he, anyhow? Where does he hail from, and what is he doing here?"
The speaker leaned over the little bar in the hotel at Maritzburg, and
looked first at the landlord who stood behind it and then at half a
dozen roughly dressed companions who were congregated in front of it.
These men were cattle-dealers and speculators. They made it a business
to furnish oxen, wagons, supplies, and servants to hunters and
travellers who were bound up the country.
They claimed a monopoly in this line, and the stranger who ignored them
and exercised the right to purchase his outfit where he could do the
best was sure to suffer at their hands in one way or another.
"He is from America," answered two or three of the men at once; and the
tone in which the words were spoken betrayed both the pity and contempt
they felt for one who was willing to acknowledge that he came from so
benighted a region.
"Oh, he's a Yankee, is he?" exclaimed the first speaker. "I thought he
didn't look and act like an Englishman. Isn't there a chance to make a
few pounds out of him? He doesn't know the ropes, of course."
"If he doesn't know them all he knows a good many of them," replied the
landlord. "He has had nothing to do with anybody about the hotel since
he has been here, and has acted as independent as you please."
"What is his business?"
"That is the funny part of the story. I have heard, in a roundabout
way--_he_ has never said a word to me about himself or his affairs--that
he is going into the interior on a sporting expedition."
"He is!" exclaimed the first speaker. "Why, he's nothing but a boy!"
"And a foolish one at that," chimed in another of the cattle-dealers. "I
don't believe he ever fired a gun in his life."
"They say he has," replied the landlord. "The story goes that he has
spent a winter alone in the Rocky Mountains--wherever they may be--and
that he has killed bears and deer no end."
"I don't believe a word of it. Americans don't have money to spend in
hunting, as our gentlemen sportsmen do."
"He's got plenty of it, and has paid his bills regular. I'll say that
much for him," observed the landlord. "I am told that he is backed up by
some college in America, and that he is employed to stock a museum
there."
"Well, we don't want him here," said one of the cattle-dealers
decidedly. "Nobody but our own countrymen have the right to hunt in
Africa."
"I don't see how you are going to stop him."
"Oh, there are plenty of ways! We have stopped more than one hunter
from going over the town hill, and we can stop this one."
"I wouldn't fool with him if I were you," said the landlord. "Judging by
the way he acts, he has brought letters to somebody here in
Maritzburg--although where he got them _I_ don't know--and if he has you
had better let him alone, or you'll get into trouble."
"Be careful about what you do," said one of the men who had not spoken
before, and who answered to the name of Barlow. "He's smart, and better
posted than any stranger I ever saw. I met him in Durban. He bought an
outfit of me--oxen, wagon, and everything--all fair and square, and then
backed out."
We have introduced this man by name, because he bears a somewhat
important part in the history of Oscar's life in Africa. When we come to
speak of him again we shall see that he did not confine himself strictly
to the truth when he said that the boy had broken faith with him.
"I'd pay him for that if I were in your place," said the landlord.
He was in league with these cattle-dealers, who were swindlers without
exception, and received a share in the profits of the business he was
able to throw into their hands.
"Don't you worry," replied Barlow. "He hasn't left the colony yet."
"If I ran this hotel I would know something about him before he went
away," said one of the men. "It may be that he is a convict, and that
the story he tells about his doings in America is false."
"I have often thought of speaking to him about his object in coming
here, and as he is going away to-day, perhaps I had better do it now,"
said the landlord.
Encouraged by the approving winks and nods of his friends, all of whom
were burning with a desire to learn something authentic regarding the
silent stranger, the landlord opened the door of the bar and walked
through it toward the opposite side of the dingy little parlor, where
the subject of these uncomplimentary remarks was standing in front of
one of the windows, watching what was going on in the stable-yard.
Although one of the cattle-dealers had declared that he was nothing but
a boy, he was large enough to be called a man. He was tall and
broad-shouldered, and his tight-fitting jacket and trousers of moleskin,
with top-boots, revealed the outlines of a figure that was built for
strength and activity.
On his head he wore a light leathern helmet, with a peak before and
behind. His dress, from head to foot, had been selected with due regard
for the climate and rough life he expected to lead in the wilds of
Africa. A casual observer would not only have discovered a good-natured
face, but a bold and resolute one, and you could not look at it without
telling yourself that its owner was a boy who would dare anything. It
was our old friend Oscar Preston.
Since he left his native land, three months ago, he had learned to love
it and the people in it as he had never loved them before; and perhaps,
when we come to describe some of the incidents that happened during his
long journey, we shall see why it was so.
He looked around when the landlord came up and laid his hand familiarly
on his shoulder, but did not say anything.
"Mr. Preston," said the landlord, "as you are about to leave my house, I
should like to ask you a few questions, if you have no objections."
"Mr. Dibbits," replied Oscar, "how much do I owe you?"
"It isn't that, sir; I assure you it isn't that. You have paid your
bills like a gentleman. But when a guest comes and goes in such a
mysterious way----"
"There is nothing mysterious about me or my movements," interrupted
Oscar. "You won't let a fellow mind his own business even if he wants
to, will you? You must have heard--for it is all over town, and in
everybody's mouth--that I came here to procure specimens of natural
history for a museum in America. That much I am at liberty to tell
anybody; but my private affairs I decline to talk about. If you want to
learn anything more concerning me go to Mr. Donahue, Mr. Morgan, or Mr.
McElroy; and, if you are intimate with them, perhaps they will satisfy
your curiosity."
The landlord began to open his eyes when he heard this. Mr. Donahue was
the magistrate, Mr. Morgan was the editor of the leading political paper
in Durban, and Mr. McElroy was the delegate for the colony.
An Englishman has the greatest respect for big names, and a guest who
could speak of these gentlemen as Oscar did was one that could not be
treated with too much familiarity.
"I meant no offence, Mr. Preston," the landlord hastened to say; "but
you will acknowledge----"
"Yes, I will have to acknowledge it, for everybody tells me so," replied
Oscar. "Folks look sideways at me, and say, 'Are you not rather young
for such business, Mr. Preston?' When I first met Mr. Donahue, and told
him where I had been, and what I had done in the way of hunting in my
own country, he looked the very picture of astonishment, and said my
story was almost incredible. Perhaps he wouldn't have believed a word of
it if I hadn't brought the proofs with me. I suppose I am young in
years for such work; but what I have done, and still hope to do, will
bear no comparison with what another American boy has done--and he
didn't brag about it, either. He left his home in New England when he
was only seventeen years old, went to the La Plata River, in South
America, and walked from there to Valparaiso--a distance of more than a
thousand miles--in the face of all sorts of dangers and difficulties. I
suppose you never heard of that before?"
No; Mr. Dibbits couldn't say he had.
"Of course you never heard of it, for he wasn't an English boy. If he
had been the whole world would have heard of it. One of your own authors
says of the book he wrote about that walk, as near as I can recall the
words, 'Sir Francis Head went over this same ground on horseback, and
gave us a good account of it; but the quiet walk of this American boy is
worth infinitely more than the rough rides of the British baronet.' What
do you think of that, Mr. Dibbits?"
"It's very extraordinary--very!" replied the landlord.
"I should say it was; but it is true, and it shows that American boys
have some get-up about them, doesn't it?"
"It certainly does. I know that you will go through with your
undertaking as he did with his, for I can see by your face that you are
a brave lad."
"If you were an Irishman I should say that was blarney," thought Oscar.
"You've got an axe to grind."
"You'll be needing cattle and salted horses," continued Mr. Dibbits,
"and if I could be of any assistance now----"
"I thought there was something of that sort in the wind," said Oscar to
himself; then aloud he answered, "I have everything I need, thank you;
and even if I hadn't I should not think of dealing with any of those men
who are now standing at your bar. I know one of them; I met him in
Durban, and I know he is angry at me because I did not buy my outfit and
hire my men of him. I know, too, that he and his fellows have a way of
breaking up the hunting expeditions of men they do not like; but I
didn't come here to be broken up, and I won't be, either. If anybody
interferes with me---- Mr. Dibbits, just look at that!"
While Oscar was speaking he chanced to turn his eyes toward the
stable-yard and saw a sight that astonished and enraged him.