In a few minutes the three hunters had lost sight of one another, Karl
and Caspar proceeding round the lake by opposite sides, but both keeping
under cover of the bushes; while Ossaroo wended his way along the bottom
of the cliff--thinking he might have a better chance in that direction.
The game which Caspar expected first might fall in his way was the
"kakur," or barking-deer. These little animals appeared to be more
numerous in the valley than any other creatures. Caspar had scarcely
ever been abroad upon a shooting excursion without seeing one; and on
several occasions a kakur had constituted his whole "bag." He had
learnt an ingenious way of bringing them within range of his gun--simply
by placing himself in ambush and imitating their call; which, as may be
deduced from one of their common names, is a sort of bark. It is a
sound very much resembling the bark of a fox, only that it is much
louder. This the kakur sends forth, whenever it suspects the presence
of an enemy in its neighbourhood; and keeps repeating it at short
intervals, until it believes either that the danger has been withdrawn,
or withdraws itself from the danger.
The simple little ruminant does not seem to be aware that this sound--
perhaps intended as a note of warning to its companions--too often
becomes its own death-signal, by betraying its whereabouts to the
sportsman or other deadly enemy. Not only the hunter, man, but the
tiger, the leopard, the cheetah, and other predatory creatures, take
advantage of this foolish habit of the barking-deer; and stealing upon
it unawares, make it their victim.
The bark is very easily imitated by the human voice; and after a single
lesson, with Ossaroo as instructor, not only could Caspar do the decoy
to a nicety, but even Karl, who only overheard the shikaree instructing
his pupil, was able to produce a sound precisely similar.
Present hunger prompted Caspar to go in search of the kakur, as that
would be the game most likely to turn up first. There were other
quadrupeds, and some birds too, whose flesh would have served better, as
being of superior delicacy: for the venison of the barking-deer is none
of the sweetest. In the autumn it is not bad--nor up to a late period
in the winter--though it is never very delicious at any season.
On that morning, however, Caspar was not at all fastidious; and he knew
that neither were the others--hunger having robbed them of all delicacy
of appetite. Even kakur venison would be palatable enough, could he
procure it; and for this purpose was he going in a particular direction,
and not wandering hither and thither, as sportsmen usually do when in
search of game.
He knew of a spot where kakur were almost sure of being found. It was a
pretty glade, surrounded by thick evergreen shrubbery--not far from the
edge of the lake, and on the side opposite to that where the hut was
built.
Caspar had never entered this glade--and he had gone through it several
times--without seeing kakur browsing upon the grassy turf, or lying in
the shade of the bushes that grew around its edge. It was but fair to
presume, therefore, that on that morning, as upon others, the glade
would furnish him with this species of game.
Without making stop anywhere else, he walked on till he had got within a
few rods of the spot where he expected to procure the materials of the
breakfast; and then, entering among the underwood, he advanced more
slowly and with greater caution. To ensure success, he even dropped
upon his knees, and crawled cat-like, using his arms as forelegs and his
hands as paws! After this fashion he worked his way forward to the edge
of the opening--all the while keeping a thick leafy bush before his body
to screen himself from the eyes of any creature--kakur or other animal--
that might be within the glade.
On getting close up behind the bush, he came to a halt; and then,
cautiously raising his shoulders, he peeped through between the leafy
branches.
It took him some seconds of time to survey the whole surface of the
glade; but when he had finished his scrutiny, a shadow of disappointment
might have been seen passing over his countenance. There was no game
there--neither kakur nor animals of any other kind.
Not without a certain feeling of chagrin did the young hunter perceive
that the opening was empty: for, to say nothing of the annoyance he felt
on not being able to procure a joint of venison for breakfast, he had
been flattering himself that, from his superior knowledge of the ground,
he would be the first to find the material for their matutinal meal--
about which he had some little feeling of hunter-pride and rivalry.
He did not permit this preliminary disappointment to rob him of all
hope. If there were no kakur within the glade, there might be some in
the bushes near its edge; and perhaps, by adopting the decoy he had
several times already practised--that of imitating their call--he might
entice one out into the open ground.
Acting upon this idea, he squatted close behind the bush, and commenced
barking, as near as he could, _a la kakur_.