To the hunters time was a consideration. If the elephant should return
that day, it would be just before the hottest hours of noon. They had,
therefore, scarce an hour left to prepare for him--to "make his bed," as
Swartboy had jocosely termed it. So they went to work with alacrity,
the Bushman acting as director-general, while the other two received
their orders from him with the utmost obedience.
The first work which Swartboy assigned to them was, to cut and prepare
three stakes of hard wood. They were to be each about three feet long,
as thick as a man's arm, and pointed at one end. These were soon
procured. The iron-wood (_Olca undulata_) which grew in abundance in
the neighbourhood, furnished the very material; and after three pieces
of sufficient length had been cut down with the axe, they were reduced
to the proper size, and pointed by the knives of the hunters.
Meanwhile Swartboy had not been idle. First with his knife he had cut a
large section of bark from the elephant's tree, upon the side against
which the animal had been in the habit of leaning, and about three feet
from the ground. Then with the axe he made a deep notch, where the bark
had been removed--in fact, such a notch as would have caused the tree to
fall had it been left to itself. But it was not, for before advancing
so far in his work, Swartboy had taken measures to prevent that. He had
stayed the tree by fastening the rheim to its upper branches on the
_opposite_ side, and then carrying the rope to the limbs of another tree
that stood out in that direction.
Thus adjusted, the elephant's tree was only kept from falling by the
rheim-stay; and a slight push, in the direction of the latter, would
have thrown over.
Swartboy now replaced the section of bark, which he had preserved; and
after carefully collecting the chips, no one, without close examination,
could have told that the tree had ever felt the edge of an axe.
Another operation yet remained to be performed--that was the planting of
the stakes, already prepared by Von Bloom and Hendrik. To set these
firmly deep holes had to be made. But Swartboy was just the man to make
a hole; and in less than ten minutes he had sunk three, each over a foot
deep, and not a half-inch wider than the thickness of the stakes!
You may be curious to know how he accomplished this. You would have dug
a hole with a spade, and necessarily as wide as the spade itself. But
Swartboy had no spade, and would not have used it if there had been
one--since it would have made the holes too large for his purpose.
Swartboy sunk his holes by "crowing"--which process he performed by
means of a small pointed stick. With this he first loosened the earth
in a circle of the proper size. He then took out the detached mould,
flung it away, and used the point of the "crowing stick" as before.
Another clearing out of mould, another application of the stick; and so
on, till the narrow hole was deemed of sufficient depth. That was how
Swartboy "crowed" the holes.
They were sunk in a kind of triangle near the bottom of the tree, but on
the side opposite to that where the elephant would stand, should he
occupy his old ground.
In each hole Swartboy now set a stake, thick end down and point upwards;
some small pebbles, and a little mould worked in at the sides, wedged
them as firmly as if they had grown there.
The stakes were now daubed over with soft earth, to conceal the white
colour of the wood; the remaining chips were picked up, and all traces
of the work completely obliterated. This done, the hunters withdraw
from the spot.
They did not go far; but choosing a large bushy tree to leeward, all
three climbed up into it, and sat concealed among its branches.
The field-cornet held his long "roer" in readiness, and so did Hendrik
his rifle. In case the ingenious trap of Swartboy should fail, they
intended to use their guns, but not otherwise.
It was now quite noon, and the day had turned into one of the hottest.
But for the shade afforded by the leaves, they would have felt it very
distressing. Swartboy prognosticated favourably from this. The great
heat would be more likely than anything else to send the elephant to his
favourite sleeping-place under the cool shady cover of the cameel-doorn.
It was now quite noon. He could not be long in coming, thought they.
Sure enough he came, and soon, too.
They had not been twenty minutes on their perch, when they heard a
strange, rumbling noise, which they knew proceeded from the stomach of
an elephant. The next moment they saw one emerge from the jungle, and
walk, with sweeping step, straight up to the tree. He seemed to have no
suspicion of any danger; but placed himself at once alongside the trunk
of the acacia--in the very position and on the side Swartboy had said he
would take. From his spoor the Bushman knew he had been in the habit of
so standing.
His head was turned from the hunters, but not so much as to prevent them
from seeing a pair of splendid tusks,--six feet long at the least.
While gazing in admiration at these rich trophies, they saw the animal
point his proboscis upward, and discharge a vast shower of water into
the leaves, which afterwards fell dripping in bright globules over his
body!
Swartboy said that he drew the water from his stomach. Although
closet-naturalists deny this, it must have been so; for shortly after,
he repeated the act again and again--the quantity of water at each
discharge being as great as before. It was plain that his trunk, large
as it was, could not have contained it all.
He seemed to enjoy this "shower-bath;" and the hunters did not wonder at
it, for they themselves, suffering at the time from heat and thirst,
would have relished something of a similar kind. As the crystal drops
fell back from the acacia leaves, the huge animal was heard to utter a
low grunt expressive of gratification. The hunters hoped that this was
the prelude to his sleep, and watched him with intense earnestness.
It proved to be so.
As they sat gazing, they noticed that his head sunk a little, his ears
ceased their flapping, his tail hung motionless, and his trunk, now
twined around his tusks, remained at rest.
They gaze intently. Now they see his body droop a little to one side--
now it touches the tree--there is heard a loud crack, followed by a
confused crashing of branches--and the huge dark body of the elephant
sinks upon its side.
At the same instant a terrible scream drowns all other sounds, causing
the forest to echo, and the very leaves to quake. Then follows a
confused roaring, mingled with the noise of cracking branches, and the
struggles of the mighty brute where he lies kicking his giant limbs
along the earth, in the agonies of death!
The hunters remain in the tree. They see that the elephant is down--
that he is impaled. There will be no need for their puny weapons.
Their game has already received the death-wound.
The struggle is of short duration. The painful breathing that precedes
death is heard issuing from the long proboscis; and then follows a deep
ominous silence.
The hunters leap down, and approach the prostrate body. They see that
it still lies upon the terrible _chevaux de frise_, where it had fallen.
The stakes have done their work most effectively. The elephant
breathes no more. He is dead!
It was the work of an hour to cut out those splendid tusks. But our
hunters thought nothing of that; and they were only the more pleased to
find each of them a heavy load--as much as a man could carry!
Von Bloom shouldered one, Swartboy the other while Hendrik loaded
himself with the guns and implements; and all three, leaving the carcass
of the dead elephant behind them, returned triumphantly to camp.