A GOOD SHOT AND A SURPRISE.
"I wish that wagon and its contents were at the bottom of the sea, and
that I were safe in Eaton again," said Oscar to himself as he flew over
the plain. "If I had gone through with my expedition and was on my way
to the coast it would be bad enough; but as it is I don't wonder that
Leon Parker had to take his bed. The doctors say that people have died
of homesickness before now, and I believe it."
For a few minutes Oscar was certainly in a very bad way; but the fresh
air and Little Gray's easy, rapid motion seemed to have a soothing
effect on him, and after he had ridden a mile or more at a headlong
gallop he turned about and went back to the wagon.
He knew that he must do something to keep up his spirits, and for want
of something better he seated himself on the dissel-boom and talked to
Paddy O'Brian.
It was the best thing he could have done. Paddy was as witty as any of
his race, and after Oscar had enjoyed a few hearty laughs he climbed
into the wagon and finished the reading of his letters. Then he set to
work to answer them.
He was busy until long after midnight, writing by the light of a lantern
that stood on the fore-chest, and he did not complete his task until
three o'clock the next afternoon.
Then he took out of his trunk one of the extra suits of moleskin which
he had not yet worn, and after making his toilet with a great deal of
care, picked up his letters and climbed the hill to Harrismith to keep
his appointment with Mr. Hutchinson.
That gentleman, who was acquainted with almost everybody in the country,
gave him a letter to a friend who lived about a hundred and fifty miles
distant, and before the dew was off the grass the next morning Oscar had
left Harrismith a long way behind him.
Up to this time the young hunter had secured but a very few specimens,
and they were mostly birds.
He had not taken a rifle out of its holster but once, and that was to
shoot a baboon he saw frisking about in a rocky ravine through which the
wagon passed, and whose skin was now stowed away in one of his chests.
He was getting into a game country, and almost every day he saw small
herds of spring-bucks and wilde-beests feeding in plain view.
The temptation to stop and try a shot at them was strong, but he
resisted it, for the reason that he thought it would be a waste of time.
He did not know how to hunt African game, and his object was to reach
the home of Mr. Lawrence, a gentleman to whom he had been given letters
of introduction, and whom he hoped to induce to act as his instructor.
Mr. Lawrence was a prosperous farmer as well as an enthusiastic
sportsman. He had been in Africa long enough to know how to bag all the
different kinds of game with which the country abounded, and he was
engaged in his favorite recreation, riding to the hounds, when Oscar
met him. It came about in this way:
When on the march the young hunter always rode quite half a mile in
advance of the wagon, and one morning he had the good fortune to come
within easy shooting distance of the largest herd of spring-bucks he had
ever seen.
The little animals crossed the track not more than a hundred yards in
advance of him, and Oscar had a fair view of them. They ran at the top
of their speed, bounding along like so many rubber balls, and clearing
from twelve to fifteen feet at a jump without the least apparent effort.
When they reached the wagon-track they sailed over it as easily as if
they had been furnished with wings, and then trotted along with their
noses close to the ground, as if they felt in a very sportive mood.
Being unarmed, Oscar could do nothing but sit in his saddle and look at
them, reproaching himself the while for not bringing a rifle with him.
If he had had one of his double-barrels in his hands he could have
secured a couple of specimens and some fresh steaks for dinner without
the least difficulty.
When the afternoon march began he rode out with an Express rifle on his
shoulder, but he waited in vain for another herd of spring-bucks to
cross the track. There were plenty of them in sight, but they took care
to keep out of range.
The dogs, as usual, went off hunting on their own hook, but instead of
driving the game in his direction they drove it farther away, and
finally disappeared among the hills.
"Such a chance as I had this morning doesn't happen more than once in a
fellow's lifetime," thought Oscar regretfully. "However, I have learned
something by it. I know now how to set up a spring-buck if I ever get
one, and have been convinced that in this country a hunter had better
keep a rifle by him all the time."
Oscar went off into a revery, which lasted nearly an hour, and from
which he was finally aroused by the baying of a hound. He did not pay
much attention to it at first, but when he found that there was more
than one hound giving tongue, and that their music was growing louder
every moment, he straightened up and began to look about him.
All at once a large, dark-brown animal appeared over the brow of a hill
about a quarter of a mile to his right, and came toward him with the
speed of the wind.
In an instant Oscar dropped to the ground, and looking over his horse's
back, watched the movements of the game. He had scarcely taken up his
position before a number of dogs came into view. They did not run in a
compact body, as hounds usually do, but were spread out in a sort of
skirmish order so as to cover each flank of their quarry. Oscar was
quick to notice this, and he could not help congratulating himself on
the intelligence displayed by his pack of mongrels.
"I had no idea they had so much sense," said he to himself. "The game,
whatever it is, can't turn either way without running the risk of being
caught. Its only chance is to keep straight ahead and outrun the dogs;
but whether or not it can do that is a question. I never saw them move
so swiftly before."
Oscar drew his head further down behind the saddle as he cocked both
barrels of his rifle and waited with a beating heart for a chance to
shoot.
Just then the game, discovering an enemy in front, swerved from its
course, presenting a full broadside, and giving the excited young hunter
the first fair view of a wilde-beest (the gnu of the naturalist) he had
ever had.
This movement sealed its fate. As quick as thought Oscar sprang around
the head of his horse, which stood motionless in his tracks, raised his
rifle to his shoulder, and holding far enough in advance of the gnu to
make allowance for distance and motion, pressed the trigger.
The first shot was a clean miss, but the second bullet told loudly, and
when the smoke cleared away Oscar had the satisfaction of seeing the gnu
lying on the ground all in a heap.
"There's something for Yarmouth!" he shouted. "That was the best shot I
ever made."
Oscar at once ran forward to secure his prize and to prevent the dogs
when they came up from spoiling its skin. He was greatly delighted, as
well he might be, for he had secured a splendid specimen.
He straightened it out and looked at it, lost in admiration. It was a
little more than four feet in height at the shoulders, and its mane and
tail looked so much like those of a horse that, had it not been for its
horns and hoofs, it might have been taken for rather a long-legged
Shetland pony.
"It is a beautiful specimen," said Oscar aloud as he walked slowly
around the animal, so that he could view it from all sides.
"It certainly is, but I should like to know what business you have
shooting my game?" said a voice near him.
Oscar looked up in the greatest surprise and saw a horseman standing
within twenty feet of him. Where he came from so suddenly was a mystery.
"That's my wilde-beest," continued the stranger. "I have been following
him for more than an hour. Turn him over and you will see the mark of
my bullet in his flank."
Oscar acted like a boy who had just been awakened out of a sound sleep.
He rubbed his eyes to make sure that he was not dreaming, and then he
saw that the dogs which had gathered about him, and whose speed and
style of hunting he had so much admired, were not his own.
They were magnificent Scotch deer-hounds, and looked about as much like
the members of his own pack as Oscar looked like the grinning little
Hottentot who sat on his horse a short distance behind the man whose
sudden and unexpected appearance had so startled and surprised him.