Only those who have been forcibly held back when filled with the deepest
anxiety to go forward, can form any thing like a conception of our state
of mind during the few days that succeeded that on which Peterkin met
with his accident.
We felt like chained hounds when the huntsmen pass by. We knew that
every hour increased the distance between us and the slave-dealer's
party, who, unless we succeeded in passing them and reaching the
villages first, would infallibly succeed in their villainous design.
But Peterkin was unable to proceed without great risk, as whenever he
attempted to walk steadily for any distance his head became giddy, and
we were compelled to halt, so that a day or two's rest was absolutely
necessary. Poor Makarooroo was nearly beside himself with impatience;
but to do him justice, he endeavoured to conceal the state of his
feelings when in Peterkin's presence.
During this period of forced inaction, although of course I had nothing
to do, I found it impossible to apply my mind closely to the study of
any of the strange and beautiful objects by which I was surrounded.
Anxiety banished from me almost entirely the love of study, as well as
the power of observation. Nevertheless, one or two things that I saw
were so curious that they could not but make a deep impression on my
memory.
I discovered a spider of a very remarkable kind, which was such an
ingenious creature as to be capable of making a door to the entrance of
its house. I came upon the animal one day while taking a stroll a short
distance from our camp. It was as large as a shilling, reddish in
colour, and from the fierce, rapid way in which it ran about hither and
thither as if in search of prey, it had an exceedingly horrible and
voracious aspect. The hole of this creature is visible only when its
owner is absent from home. It is quite evident either that there are no
thieves among the lower animals there, or that there is nothing in the
hole to steal, for when he goes out he leaves the door open behind him.
When he returns he shuts the door, and the hole becomes invisible, in
consequence of the door being coated with earth on the outside. Its
inside is lined with a pure white silky substance, which at once
attracted my attention as I passed. On trying to pick up the door, I
found that it was attached by a hinge to the hole, and on being shut it
fitted exactly.
Perhaps the most singular discovery I made was a tree, the stem of which
had been so completely surrounded by spiders' webs that it could not be
seen, and I had to cut through the network with my knife in order to get
at the tree. The lines of those webs were as thick as coarse threads,
and pretty strong, as I had reason to know; for when walking back to
camp the same evening, meditating deeply on our unfortunate detention, I
ran my head into the middle of a spider's web, and was completely
enveloped in it, so much so that it was with considerable difficulty I
succeeded in clearing it away. I was as regularly netted as if a gauze
veil had been thrown over me.
On our third morning after the accident we set forth again, and
continued our journey by forced marches as Peterkin could bear it.
Although the two past days and nights had been absolutely lost, and
could not now be recalled, yet the moment we set out and left our camp
behind us, the load of anxiety was at once lifted off our minds, and we
hurried forward with an elasticity of step and spirit that was quite
delightful. We felt like prisoners set free, and kept up a continual
flow of conversation, sometimes in reference to the scenery and objects
around us, at other times in regard to our future plans or our past
experiences.
"It seems to me," said Jack, breaking silence at the end of a long pause
which had succeeded an animated discussion as to whether it were better
to spend one's life in the civilised world or among the wilds of Africa,
in which discussion Peterkin, who advocated the wild life, was utterly,
though not admittedly, beaten--"it seems to me that, notwithstanding the
short time we stayed in the gorilla country, we have been pretty
successful. Haven't we bagged thirty-three altogether?"
"Thirty-six, if you count the babies in arms," responded Peterkin.
"Of course we are entitled to count these."
"I think you are both out in your reckoning," said I, drawing out my
note-book; "the last baby that I shot was our thirty-seventh."
"What!" cried Peterkin, "the one with the desperately black face and the
horrible squint, that nearly tore all the hair out of Jack's head before
he managed to strangle him? That wasn't a baby; it was a big boy, and I
have no doubt a big rascal besides."
"That may be so," I rejoined; "but whatever he was, I have him down as
number thirty-seven in my list."
"Pity we didn't make up the forty," observed Jack.
"Ah! yes indeed," said Peterkin. "But let me see: could we not manage
to make it up to that yet?"
"Impossible," said I. "We are far away from the gorilla land now, I
know; for, in addition to the fact that we have seen no traces of
gorillas for a long time, we have, within the last few days, seen
several lions, which, you are well aware, do not exist in the gorilla
country."
"True; but you mistake me," rejoined Peterkin. "I do not mean to make
up the number to forty by killing three more, but by proving, almost to
demonstration, that we have already been the death of that number, in
addition to those noted down."
"You'll find that rather difficult," said Jack, laughing.
"Not at all," cried Peterkin. "Let me think a minute. You remember
that enormously big, hairy fellow, that looked so like an ugly old man
that Ralph refused point-blank to fire at him, whereupon you fired at
him point-blank and wounded him in the shoulder as he was running away?"
"We treated several big fellows in that way," replied Jack; "which of
them do you allude to?--the one that roared so loud and terrified you so
much that you nearly ran away?"
"No, no; you know well enough which one I mean. The one that ran along
the edge of the stagnant pool into which you tumbled as we were coming
back."
"Oh yes! I remember," said Jack, laughing.
"Well, that fellow flew into such a horrible rage when he was wounded,"
continued Peterkin, "that I am perfectly certain he went straight home
and murdered his wife in a passion; which brings up the number to
thirty-eight. Then there was that old woman-gorilla that I brought down
when we were descending yon hill that was covered with such splendid
vines. You remember? Well, I'm quite certain that the young
man-gorilla beside her, who ran off and escaped, was her son, and that
he went home straightway and died of grief. That makes thirty-nine.
Then--"
"Oh, do be quiet, Peterkin, please," said I, with a shudder. "You put
things in such a fearfully dark and murderous light that I feel quite as
if I were a murderer. I feel quite uneasy, I assure you; and if it were
not that we have killed all these creatures in the cause of science, I
should be perfectly miserable."
"In the cause of science!" repeated Peterkin; "humph! I suspect that a
good deal of wickedness is perpetrated under the wing of science."
"Come, come," said Jack; "don't you begin to grow sarcastic, Master
Peterkin. I abominate sarcasm, and cannot tolerate sarcastic people.
If you adopt that style, I shall revert to my natural habits as a
gorilla, and tear you in pieces."
"There you exhibit your unnatural ignorance of your own natural habits,"
retorted Peterkin; "for you ought to know that gorillas never tear men
in pieces--their usual mode being to knock you down with a blow of their
huge paws."
"Well, I will knock you down if you prefer it."
"Thank you; I'd rather not. Besides, you have almost knocked me up
already; so pray call a halt and let me rest a bit."
We were all very willing to agree to this request, having walked the
last two or three miles at a very quick pace. Seating ourselves on the
trunk of a fallen tree, we enjoyed the beautiful prospect before us. An
open vista enabled us to see beyond the wood in which we were travelling
into an extensive sweep of prairie-land on which the sinking sun was
shedding a rich flood of light. It happened to be a deliciously cool
evening, and the chattering of numerous parrots as well as the
twittering songs of other birds--less gorgeous, perhaps, but more
musical than they--refreshed our ears as the glories of the landscape
did our eyes. While we were gazing dreamily before us in silent
enjoyment, Jack suddenly interrupted our meditations by exclaiming--
"Hist! look yonder!"
He pointed as he spoke to a distant part of the plain on which the
forest closely pressed.
"A zebra!" cried I, with delight; for besides the feeling of pleasure at
seeing this splendid creature, I entertained a hope that we might shoot
him and procure a steak for supper, of which at that time we stood much
in need.
"I'm too tired to stalk it now," said Peterkin, with an air of
chagrin.--"Are you up to it, Jack?"
"Quite; but I fear he's an animal that's very difficult to stalk in such
an open country.--What say you, Mak?"
"Hims no be cotched dis yer night, massa; hims too far away an' too wide
'wake."
"What say you to a long shot, Peterkin? Your rifle is sighted for four
hundred yards, and he seems to be little more than six hundred off."
"I'll try," said our friend, going down on one knee and adjusting the
sight of his piece. Taking a long, steady aim, he fired, and in another
instant the zebra lay dead on the plain. I need hardly add that our
amazement was excessive. Even Peterkin himself could scarcely believe
his eyes. Had his rifle been sighted for such a distance, the shot,
although a splendid one, would not have amazed us so much, because we
knew that our friend's aim was deadly; but as he had to elevate the
muzzle above the object fired at and guess the amount of elevation, the
shot was indeed wonderful. It was a long time before our guide could
move, but when he did recover himself he danced and shouted like a
madman with delight, and then, setting off with a bound, sped across the
plain like a deer.
"Come along," cried Jack with a laugh--"let's follow; for Mak looked so
rabid when he went off that I believe he'll eat the beast raw before we
can claim our share, if we don't look sharp."
We all of us set off at a smart trot, and soon came to the spot where
our prize lay. It was a splendid creature, and in prime condition.
After examining it carefully, and descanting on the beauty of its
striped skin, I sat down beside it and pulled out my note-book, while my
comrades entered the forest to search for a suitable place on which to
encamp, and to kindle a fire. A spot was quickly found, and I had
scarcely finished making notes when they returned to carry the zebra
into the encampment. We accomplished this with some difficulty, and
laid it beside the fire. Then cutting four large steaks from its flanks
we proceeded to sup, after which we made our arrangements for spending
the night there. We little knew the startling surprise that was in
store for us that night.
As the forest in that place happened to be swarming with wild animals of
every kind, we deemed it prudent to set a watch as well as to keep up a
blazing fire. Jack and I and the negro kept watch by turns; Peterkin,
being still sufficiently an invalid to claim exemption from laborious
duties, was permitted to rest undisturbed.
About midnight I aroused Jack, and having made him sit up, in order to
show that he was thoroughly awake, I lay down and went to sleep.
How long I slept I cannot tell, but I was suddenly awakened by one of
the most tremendous roars I ever heard. It was so chose to me that, in
the confusion of my sleepy brain, it seemed to be far more terrible than
that even of the gorilla. I was mistaken in this, however, and no doubt
my semi-somnolent condition tended to increase its awfulness.
Springing into a sitting posture, and by an involuntary impulse reaching
out my hand for my gun which lay close to me, I beheld a sight that was
calculated to appal the stoutest heart. A lion of the largest size was
in the very act of springing over the bushes and alighting on the zebra,
which, as I have said, lay on the other side of the fire and not four
yards off from us. As the light glared in the brute's eyes, and, as it
were, sparkled in gleams on its shaggy mane, which streamed out under
the force of its majestic bound, it seemed to my bewildered gaze as
though the animal were in the air almost above my head, and that he must
inevitably alight upon myself. This, at least, is the impression left
upon my mind now that I look back upon that terrific scene. But there
was no time for thought. The roar was uttered, the bound was made, and
the lion alighted on the carcass of the zebra almost in one and the same
moment. I freely confess that my heart quailed within me. Yet that did
not prevent my snatching up my gun; but before I had time to cock it the
crashing report of Jack's elephant rifle almost split the drum of my
ear, and I beheld the lion drop as if it had been a stone.
It lay without motion, completely dead, and we found, on examination,
that the ball had smashed in the centre of its forehead and completely
penetrated its brain.
Some time elapsed before we could find words to express our feelings.
Our guide, who had so completely enveloped his head and shoulders in
grass when he lay down to sleep that he was the last to spring up,
looked at the huge carcass of the lion with an expression of utter
bewilderment.
"What a magnificent fellow! And what a splendid shot!" exclaimed
Peterkin at last. "Why, Jack, I don't believe there's a finer lion in
Africa. It's lucky, though, that you were on the _qui vive_."
"Yes," said I; "had it not been for you we might have been all killed by
this time."
"No fear o' dat," chimed in our guide, as he sat down on the lion's
shoulder, and began to stroke its mane; "hims was want him's supper off
de zebra, ho! ho! Hims got him's supper off a bullet!"
"'Tis well that he has," observed Jack, as he reloaded his rifle. "To
say truth, comrades, I scarcely deserve credit for being guardian of the
camp, for I'm ashamed to say that I was sound asleep at the moment the
lion roared. How I ever managed to take so quick and so good an aim is
more than I can tell. Luckily my rifle was handy, and I had fallen
asleep in a sitting posture. Had it been otherwise, I could scarcely
have been in time to prevent the brute springing on us, had he felt so
disposed."
Here was now another subject for my note-book, so I sat down, and began
a minute inspection of the noble-looking animal, while my comrades,
heaping fresh logs on the fire, sat down in front of it, and for upwards
of an hour, "fought their battles o'er again."
It was a matter of deep regret to us all that we could not afford to
carry away with us the skin of this lion as a memorial; but
circumstanced as we then were, that was out of the question, so we
contented ourselves with extracting his largest teeth and all his claws,
which we still preserve in our museum as trophies of the adventure.