THE BATTLE IN THE GROVE.
No one but the most enthusiastic hunter would be willing to pass through
what Oscar did that day just for the sake of procuring a rare specimen
of natural history. He was half an hour in getting over the brow of the
first hill, and three hours more in coming within fair shooting distance
of the koodoos.
For thirty long minutes he lay there in the broiling sun, scarcely
daring to move a muscle, for the buck, whose suspicions had been aroused
by the sudden disappearance of the hunters, was constantly moving about
in a circle, as if he wanted to keep his head turned toward all points
of the compass at once.
Oscar began to grow thirsty and dizzy. His rifle-barrel felt as though
it had just come out of the fire, and his hands began to burn as if they
were blistered.
Stalking game in Africa was very different from stalking game in the
foot-hills when the snow was a foot deep on the ground, and more than
once Oscar was on the point of giving up in despair; but knowing that
one cannot be a successful hunter until he has learned to wait, and to
wait patiently, and that if he ever succeeded in shooting a koodoo it
would be by going through an ordeal just like the present, he endured
the broiling with as much fortitude as he could; and when at last the
sentinel turned his head away from him, and kept it turned away for a
moment longer than usual, he wormed his way rapidly over the hill and
threw himself, panting and almost exhausted, under the shade of a
friendly boulder.
"My goodness!" exclaimed Oscar, pulling off his hat and fanning his
flushed face vigorously; "this is more than I bargained for. My brains,
if I have any, were never intended to stand such a baking. I'd give
something now for a good drink from the brook that ran through the
valley in which Big Thompson and I camped while we were among the
foot-hills."
Oscar lay under the shade of the boulder for a quarter of an hour, and
then, fearing that the koodoos might wander away out of sight, or become
alarmed at something and run off, he picked up his rifle--which seemed
to have increased wonderfully in weight since he first shouldered it
that morning--and continued his weary stalk.
When he reached the top of the next hill he found the sentinel as alert
and uneasy as ever, but his erratic movements did not embarrass Oscar
now as they did a little while before, for he managed to place a big
rock between himself and the buck, and under cover of it he made more
rapid progress.
Still the sun was hot and the stalking difficult, and when, at last, the
young hunter arrived within easy range of the game and laid his rifle
carefully over the top of the boulder behind which he had crept for
concealment, he was so nearly overcome with heat and weariness that he
trembled all over, and it was a long time before he could hold his heavy
weapon steady.
"I'll make sure work of you, my vigilant friend," said Oscar to himself
as he cocked both barrels of his rifle and drew a fine sight on the
sentinel's shoulder. "If I can have the satisfaction of setting you up I
shall be in some measure repaid for this day's experience, which is
about the toughest I have had yet."
The rifle cracked, the bullet flew true to its aim, and the sentinel
koodoo fell dead in his tracks. Without waiting to see the effect of his
shot--for he was sure he had made a good one--Oscar turned his rifle
toward the other members of the herd, which had huddled together just as
our prong-horns do when they become alarmed and cannot make up their
minds where to look for the danger that threatens them. Taking a quick
aim at the largest buck, he fired his second barrel at it, and made
another good shot--at least he thought so at first, for when the smoke
cleared away he saw the buck struggling on the ground.
A minute later, however, he succeeded in regaining his feet and ran
after the rest of the herd, which were stepping out at their best pace
for the nearest grove, clearing all the obstacles that lay in their path
with the most surprising agility. Having put fresh cartridges into his
rifle, Oscar lay down under the boulder to await the coming of Big
Thompson with the dogs. Impatient as he was to make a close examination
of his prize, he could not go to him just then.
The excitement of the hunt being over, he became sensible of the fact
that he had done a good deal of hard work, and that he was very tired
and tormented with a raging thirst. Having always been so situated that
he could seek the shelter of his tent during the heat of the day, he had
never before realized how intensely hot the afternoon sun was at
meridian. Even the artificial breeze he raised with his hat, which he
had stripped of its covering of weeds and grass, did not afford him any
relief, for it felt like the blast of a furnace.
When the hounds came up Oscar led them across the intervening gully and
put them upon the trail of the koodoos. They took up the scent at once,
and followed it at a rate of speed that seemed to argue well for the
ultimate capture of the wounded member of the herd. In a few minutes
they were out of sight in the grove, and just then Big Thompson galloped
up, leading Oscar's horse.
"I've got one of them, sure; there he is, and I want you to take him in
front of you on your horse, and go with me in pursuit of the one I have
wounded," said Oscar as he sprang upon Little Gray's back. "I must have
both of them, for I am resolved that I'll never again hunt koodoos, or
anything else, in the middle of the day."
Although Oscar had often read about koodoos and heard them described
more times than he could remember, he was by no means prepared to see
what he did see when he rode up to his prize. The buck looked more like
a small ox than an antelope, and Oscar saw at a glance that his work was
not yet finished. It was plain that the Kaffir's horse could not carry
him, even if they had muscle enough between them to put him on the
animal's back.
"I must either skin him right here, in this hot sun, or else set my wits
at work and think up some way to get him to the wagon without dragging
him on the ground," said Oscar in deep perplexity. "Thompson, you stay
here and keep the vultures off, and I will go and see what has become of
the other one. When I come back I shall have to go to camp."
So saying, Oscar put Little Gray to the top of his speed and rode toward
the grove, in which both koodoos and hounds had disappeared but a few
minutes before. As he drew near to it he became aware that there was
something going on in there. He heard the bleating of the koodoos,
mingled with a chorus of barks, growls, and whines, the like of which he
had never heard two dogs utter before. If his whole pack had been in
there baying the koodoos they could not have created a greater uproar.
"They've got him!" said Oscar gleefully as he threw himself from his
horse and pulled the reins over his head, so that the animal would step
on them and check himself if he attempted to stray away during his
master's absence. "If I don't make haste they'll tear him all to pieces.
What was that? I declare, he has given one of them a prod with his
horns!"
Just then a piercing howl of pain came from the gloomy depths of the
grove, bearing testimony to the fact that one of the hounds had been
severely wounded. With it came other sounds that ought to have made
Oscar very cautious, but in his excitement he did not hear them. The
only thought in his mind was that there was a desperate fight going on
in the thorn bushes, a short distance away, between the wounded antelope
and the hounds, and that, if he did not put in an appearance and bring
it to a speedy close, the koodoo would kill both his dogs, or else the
dogs would kill the koodoo and tear his skin, so that one of his prizes,
for which he had worked so hard, would be useless as a specimen.
Holding his rifle in one hand and parting the bushes before his face
with the other, Oscar worked his way into the grove, making as little
noise as possible, for fear that the koodoo would make off if he became
aware that the dogs he was so gallantly fighting were about to receive
assistance. Louder grew the noise of the conflict as the young hunter
drew nearer to the combatants, and now he noticed that he could hear the
baying of but one dog, and that the koodoo, having ceased his bleating,
was giving utterance to very strange sounds. They resembled----
"Great Scott!" ejaculated Oscar.
For a moment his heart stood still and his hand trembled, like a leaf
shaken by the wind. Just then he reached the edge of the thicket, and
saw, in a little open space before him, the battle-ground and all the
animals that had taken part in the struggle.
There were seven of them--three that would never do battle again, and
four that were still alive and full of fight. The dead ones were Rover,
who was so badly torn that he might have been taken for almost anything
except a Scotch deer-hound, the koodoo, and an immense spotted hyena,
which was impaled upon its powerful horns. In falling the buck had
pinned his antagonist to the ground in such a way that he could not
release himself, and the two had died there together.
The survivors of the fight were three other hyenas, which were
ravenously devouring the antelope, and Ralph, who, unharmed and angry,
bounded lightly about them, nimbly eluding the savage dashes they made
at him, and protesting with all his might against such a desecration of
his master's property. It was a most unexpected sight, and Oscar was so
surprised and startled by it that, for a moment, he did not know whether
to stand his ground or take to his heels.