There was no longer anything to hinder the field-cornet from commencing
the real business of his new life, viz. the hunting of the elephant. He
resolved, therefore, to begin at once; for until he should succeed in
"bagging" a few of these giant animals, he was not easy in his mind. He
might not be able to kill a single one; and then what would become of
all his grand hopes and calculations? They would end in disappointment,
and he should find himself in as bad a condition as ever. Indeed worse:
for to fail in any undertaking is not only to lose time, but energy of
mind. Success begets genius, courage, and self-reliance--all of which
contribute to new successes; while failure intimidates and leads to
despair. In a psychological point of view it is a dangerous thing to
fail in any undertaking; and, therefore, before undertaking anything,
one should be well assured of its being possible and practicable.
Now Von Bloom was not sure that the great design he had formed was
practicable. But in this case, he had no choice. No other means of
livelihood was open to him just then; and he had resolved to make trial
of this. He had faith in his calculations, and he had also good reason
to hope he would succeed; but the thing was yet untried. No wonder he
was in haste to begin the business--in haste to know what were his
chances of success.
By early day, therefore, he was up and out. Hendrik and Swartboy only
accompanied him, for he could not yet bring himself to leave the
children with no other protection than Totty--almost as much a child as
themselves. Hans, therefore, remained by the camp.
At first the hunters followed the little rivulet that ran from the
spring and vley. They did so, because in this direction there was more
"bush;" and they knew that elephants would be more likely to be found in
woods than in open places. Indeed, it was only near the banks of the
stream that any great quantity of wood was to be seen. A broad belt of
jungle extended upon each side of it. After that, there were straggling
groves and clumps; and then came the open plains, almost treeless,
though covered with a rich carpet of grass for some distance farther.
To this succeeded the wild karoo, stretching eastward and westward
beyond the reach of vision. Along the north, as already mentioned,
trended the line of "bluffs;" and beyond these there was nothing but the
parched and waterless desert. To the south there lay the only thing
that could be called "woods;" and although such a low jungle could lay
no claim to the title of "forest," it was, nevertheless, a likely enough
haunt for elephants.
The trees consisted chiefly of mimosas--of several species; upon the
leaves, roots, and tender shoots of which the great ruminant loves to
browse. There were some "cameel-doorn" trees, with their shady
umbrella-like tops. But above all rose the massive heads of the nwanas,
giving a peculiar character to the landscape.
The hunters noticed, as they went on, that the channel of the rivulet
became wider and larger and that at times--no doubt after great rains--a
large quantity of water must have run in its bed, forming a considerable
river. But as the channel grew larger, the reverse was the case with
the quantity of running water. The farther down they proceeded this
became less and less; until, at the distance of a mile from camp, the
current ceased altogether.
For half-a-mile farther on they found water in stagnant pools, but none
running. The wide, dry channel, however, continued on as before; and
the "bush" extended on both sides without interruption, so thick that
they could only make way by keeping in the channel itself.
As they walked along, several kinds of small game were started. Hendrik
would gladly have taken a shot at some of these, but his father would
not permit him to fire just then. It might frighten away the great
"game" they were in search of, and which they might fall in with at any
moment. On their return Hendrik might do his best; and then the
field-cornet intended to assist him in procuring an antelope, as there
was no fresh venison in the camp. This, however, was a consideration of
secondary importance, and the first thing to be done was to try and get
a pair of tusks.
There was no objection to Swartboy using his bow, as that silent weapon
would cause no alarm. Swartboy had been taken along to carry the axe
and other implements, as well as to assist in the hunt. Of course he
had brought his bow and quiver with him; and he was constantly on the
watch for something at which to let fly on of his little poisoned
arrows.
He found a mark at length worthy of his attention. On crossing the
plain to avoid a large bend in the channel, they came upon a glade or
opening of considerable size, and in the middle of this glade a huge
bird appeared standing erect. "An ostrich!" exclaimed Hendrik. "No,"
replied Swartboy; "um ar da pauw."
"Yes," said Von Bloom, confirming Swartboy's statement, "it is the
pauw."
Now a "pauw" in the Dutch language is a "peacock." But there are no
peacocks in Africa. The peacock in its wild state inhabits only
Southern Asia and the islands of the Indian Archipelago. The bird they
saw, then, could not be a peacock.
Neither was it one. And yet it bore some resemblance to a peacock, with
its long heavy tail and wings speckled and ocellated in a very striking
manner, and something like the "marbled" feathers that adorn the
peacock's back. It had none of the brilliant colours, however, of that
proudest of birds, though it was quite as stately, and much larger and
taller. In fact, its great height and erect attitude was why Hendrik at
first glance had taken it for an ostrich. It was neither peacock nor
ostrich, but belonging to a different genus from either--to the genus
_Otis_ or bustard. It was the great bustard of South Africa--the _Otis
kori_--called "pauw" by the Dutch colonists, on account of its ocellated
plumage and other points of resemblance to the Indian peacock.
Now Swartboy, as well as Von Bloom, knew that the pauw was one of the
most delicious of fowls for the table. But they knew at the same time
that it was one of the shyest of birds,--so shy that it is very
difficult to get even a long shot at one. How, then, was it to be
approached within range of the Bushman's arrow? That was the point to
be considered.
Where it stood, it was full two hundred yards from them; and had it
perceived them, it would soon have widened that distance, by running off
two hundred more. I say _running_ off, for birds of the bustard family
rarely take to wing, but use their long legs to escape from an enemy.
On this account they are often hunted by dogs, and caught after a severe
chase. Although but poor flyers, they are splendid runners,--swift
almost as the ostrich itself.
The pauw, however, had not observed the hunters as yet. They had caught
a glimpse of it, before appearing out of the bushes, and had halted as
soon as they saw it.
How was Swartboy to approach it? It was two hundred yards from any
cover, and the ground was as clean as a new-raked meadow. True, the
plain was not a large one. Indeed, Swartboy was rather surprised to see
a pauw upon so small a one, for these birds frequent only the wide open
karoos, where they can sight their enemy at a great distance. The glade
was not large, but, after watching the bustard for some minutes, the
hunters saw that it was resolved to keep near the centre, and showed no
disposition to feed in the direction of the thicket on either side.
Any one but a Bushman would have despaired of getting a shot at this
kori; but Swartboy did not despair.
Begging the others to remain quiet, he crept forward to the edge of the
jungle, and placed himself behind a thick leafy bush. He then commenced
uttering a call, exactly similar to that made by the male of the kori
when challenging an adversary to combat.
Like the grouse, the bustard is polygamous, and of course terribly
jealous and pugnacious, at certain seasons of the year. Swartboy knew
that it was just then the "fighting season" among the pauws, and hoped
by imitating their challenge to draw the bird--a cock he saw it was--
within reach of his arrow.
As soon as the kori heard the call, he raised himself to his full
height, spread his immense tail, dropped his wings until the primary
feathers trailed along the grass, and replied to the challenge.
But what now astonished Swartboy was, that instead of one answer to his
call, he fancied he heard _two_, simultaneously uttered!
It proved to be no fancy, for before he could repeat the decoy the bird
again gave out its note of defiance, and was answered by a similar call
from another quarter.
Swartboy looked in the direction whence came the latter; and there, sure
enough, was a second kori, that seemed to have dropped from the region
of the clouds, or, more likely, had run out from the shelter of the
bushes. At all events, it was a good way towards the centre of the
plain, before the hunter had observed it.
The two were now in full view of each other; and by their movements any
one might see that a combat was certain to come off.
Sure of this, Swartboy did not call again; but remained silent behind
his bush.
After a good while spent in strutting, and wheeling round and round, and
putting themselves in the most threatening attitudes, and uttering the
most insulting expressions, the two koris became sufficiently provoked
to begin the battle. They "clinched" in gallant style, using all three
weapons,--wings, beak, and feet. Now they struck each other with their
wings, now pecked with their bills; and at intervals, when a good
opportunity offered, gave each other a smart kick--which, with their
long muscular legs, they were enabled to deliver with considerable
force.
Swartboy knew that when they were well into the fight, he might stalk in
upon them unobserved; so he waited patiently, till the proper moment
should arrive.
In a few seconds it became evident, he would not have to move from his
ambush; for the birds were fighting towards him. He adjusted his arrow
to the string, and waited.
In five minutes the birds were fighting within thirty yards of the spot
where the Bushman lay. The twang of a bowstring might have been heard
by one of the koris, had he been listening. The other could not
possibly have heard it; for before the sound could have reached him, a
poisoned arrow was sticking through his ears. The barb had passed
through, and the shaft remained in his head, piercing it crosswise!
Of course the bird dropped dead upon the grass, less astonished than his
antagonist.
The latter at first imagined _he_ had done it, and began to strut very
triumphantly around his fallen foe.
But his eye now fell upon the arrow sticking through the head of the
latter. He knew nothing about that. _He_ had not done _that_! What
the deuce--
Perhaps if he had been allowed another moment's reflection, he would
have taken to his heels; but before he could make up his mind about the
matter, there was another "twang" of the bowstring, another arrow
whistled through the air, and another kori lay stretched upon the grass.
Swartboy now rushed forward, and took possession of the game; which
proved to be a pair of young cocks, in prime condition for roasting.
Having hung the birds over a high branch, so as to secure them from
jackals and hyenas, the hunters continued on; and shortly after, having
re-entered the channel of the stream, continued to follow it downward.