The field-cornet was far from satisfied with his day's work. His first
attempt at elephant-hunting had proved a failure. Might it not be
always so?
Notwithstanding the interest with which he listened to Hans's narrative
of the day's adventures, he felt uneasy in his mind when he reflected
upon his own.
The elephant had escaped so easily. Their bullets seemed to have
injured him not the least. They had only served to render him furious,
and dangerous. Though both had hit him in places where their wounds
should have been mortal, no such effect was produced. The elephant
seemed to go off as unscathed, as if they had fired only boiled peas at
him!
Would it be always so?
True, they had given him but two shots. Two, if well directed, may
bring down a cow-elephant and sometimes a bull, but oftener it requires
ten times two before a strong old bull can be made to "bite the dust."
But would _any_ elephant wait until they could load and fire a
sufficient number of shots?
That was an undecided point with our tyro elephant-hunters. If _not_,
then they would be helpless indeed. It would be a tedious business
spooring the game afoot, after it had once been fired upon. In such
cases the elephant usually travels many miles before halting again; and
only mounted men can with any facility overtake him.
How Von Bloom sighed when he thought of his poor horses! Now more than
ever did he feel the want of them--now more than ever did he regret
their loss.
But he had heard that the elephant does not _always_ make off when
attacked. The old bull had shown no intention of retreating, after
receiving their shots. It was the odd conduct of Swartboy that had put
him to flight. But for that, he would no doubt have kept the ground,
until they had given him another volley, and perhaps his death-wound.
The field-cornet drew consolation from this last reflection. Perhaps
their next encounter would have a different ending. Perhaps a pair of
tusks would reward them.
The hope of such a result, as well as the anxiety about it, determined
Von Bloom to lose no time in making a fresh trial. Next morning,
therefore, before the sun was up, the hunters were once more upon the
trail of their giant game.
One precaution they had taken, which they had not thought of before.
All of them had heard that an ordinary leaden bullet will not penetrate
the tough thick skin of the great "pachyderm." Perhaps this had been
the cause of their failure on the preceding day. If so they had
provided against the recurrence of failure from such a cause. They had
moulded a new set of balls of harder material,--solder it should have
been, but they had none. They chanced, however, to be in possession of
what served the purpose equally well--the old "plate" that had often
graced the field-cornet's table in his better byegone days of the Graaf
Reinet. This consisted of candlesticks, and snuffer-trays, and
dish-covers, and cruet-stands, and a variety of articles of the real
"Dutch metal."
Some of these were condemned to the alembic of the melting-pan; and,
mixed with the common lead, produced a set of balls hard enough for the
hide of the rhinoceros itself--so that this day the hunters had no fears
of failure upon the score of soft bullets.
They went in the same direction as upon the preceding day, towards the
forest or "bush" (bosch), as they termed it.
They had not proceeded a mile when they came upon the spoor of elephants
nearly fresh. It passed through the very thickest of the thorny
jungle--where no creature but an elephant, a rhinoceros, or a man with
an axe, could have made way. A family must have passed, consisting of a
male, a female or two, and several young ones of different ages. They
had marched in single file, as elephants usually do; and had made a
regular lane several feet wide, which was quite clear of bushes, and
trampled by their immense footsteps. The old bull, Swartboy said, had
gone in advance, and had cleared the way of all obstructions, by means
of his trunk and tusks. This had evidently been the case, for the
hunters observed huge branches broken off, or still hanging and turned
to one side, out of the way--just as if the hand of man had done it.
Swartboy further affirmed, that such elephant-roads usually led to
water; and by the very easiest and shortest routes--as if they had been
planned and laid open by the skill of an engineer--showing the rare
instinct or sagacity of these animals.
The hunters, therefore, expected soon to arrive at some watering-place;
but it was equally probable the spoor might be leading them _from_ the
water.
They had not followed it more than a quarter of a mile, when they came
upon another road of a similar kind, that crossed the one they were
spooring upon. This had also been made by a number of elephants--a
family most likely--and the tracks upon it were as recent as those they
had been following.
They hesitated for a moment which to take; but at length concluded upon
keeping straight on; and so they moved forward as before.
To their great disappointment the trail at last led out into more open
ground, where the elephants had scattered about; and after following the
tracks of one, and then another without success, they got bewildered,
and lost the spoor altogether.
While casting about to find it in a place where the bush was thin and
straggling, Swartboy suddenly ran off to one side, calling to the others
to follow him. Von Bloom and Hendrik went after to see what the Bushman
was about. They thought he had seen an elephant, and both, considerably
excited, had already pulled the covers off their guns.
There was no elephant, however. When they came up with Swartboy, he was
standing under a tree, and pointing to the ground at its bottom.
The hunters looked down. They saw that the ground upon one side of the
tree was trampled, as though horses or some other animals had been tied
there for a long time, and had worn off the turf, and worked it into
dust with their hoofs. The bark of the tree--a full-topped shady
acacia--for some distance up was worn smooth upon one side, just as
though cattle had used it for a rubbing-post.
"What has done it?" asked the field-cornet and Hendrik in a breath.
"Da olifant's slapen-boom," (the elephant's sleeping-tree), replied
Swartboy.
No further explanation was necessary. The hunters remembered what they
had been told about a curious habit which the elephant has--of leaning
against a tree while asleep. This, then, was one of the sleeping-trees
of these animals.
But of what use to them, farther than to gratify a little curiosity?
The elephant was not there.
"Da ole karl come again," said Swartboy.
"Ha! you think so, Swart?" inquired Von Bloom.
"Ya, baas, lookee da! spoor fresh--da groot olifant hab slap here
yesterday."
"What then? you think we should lie in wait, and shoot him when he
returns."
"No, baas, better dan shoot, we make him bed--den wait see um lie down."
Swartboy grinned a laugh as he gave this piece of advice.
"Make his bed! what do you mean?" inquired his master.
"I tell you, baas, we get da olifant sure, if you leave da job to ole
Swart. I gib you de plan for take him, no waste powder, no waste
bullet."
The Bushman proceeded to communicate his plan, to which his master--
remembering their failure of yesterday--readily gave his consent.
Fortunately they had all the implements that would be necessary for
carrying it out,--a sharp axe, a strong rope or "rheim" of raw-hide, and
their knives--and they set about the business without loss of time.