Mr Rogers' description of the death of the gentle, harmless beast--its
piteous looks, the great tears rolling from its expressive eyes, and its
many struggles to get away, somewhat damped the ardour of Dick and Jack,
who settled in council that it was too bad to shoot giraffe, and as they
had a skin of the great creature, which was stretched out to dry, they
would shoot no more.
As for that magnificent skin, Rough'un seemed to consider that it was
placed there for his especial benefit; and to the great disgust of
Pompey, Caesar, and Crassus, who were tied up and could not join, but
had to be content at straining at their chains and looking-on, Rough'un
amused himself by licking the skin, especially where there were little
bits of fat, till he was tired, and then creeping under the hairy side
to sleep.
This he kept up for a whole day. The second day he gave it up, for the
skin was rapidly assuming the character of a hard board; but the
triumvirate were as impatient as ever, and barked incessantly.
This annoyed Dinny, who borrowed Peter's great whip to administer
punishment; but at the first crack and howl, Rough'un, who was loyalty
itself to his kind, left the hard skin that he had been smelling and
scratching with his forepaw, and flew at Dinny, exclaiming in dog
language,--
"Let them alone, you coward; you wouldn't dare to hurt them if they were
free."
"Ah, get out, ye ugly murthering baste," roared Dinny, cracking the
whip, but in no way intimidating Rough'un, who seemed to know that he
was perfectly safe, the whip being only available for use at long
distances, and Rough'un keeping close to, and baying and charging at
Dinny's legs.
"Be off, or I'll be the death of you," said Dinny, cracking the whip
again; but in nowise dismayed, Rough'un kept up the attack, till Dinny
literally turned, and fled to obtain his rifle; when Rough'un gave a
final bark, and growled at the triumvirate, and the triumvirate were so
much obliged that they growled at Rough'un, who coiled himself up in the
sun on the malodorous skin and went to sleep.
Dick and Jack were busy saddling their horses while this took place, and
stood laughing and enjoying the scene. They were joined directly after
by their father, who with the help of Dick had been doing a little
amateur farriery work, and freshly nailing a couple of loose shoes on
his horse's hoofs. Then, after providing themselves with some dried
meat and biscuit, they rode off through the forest on to the plain,
leaving the General, Coffee, and Chicory, to provide something for the
larder.
This was to be their last day here, for Mr Rogers was anxious that they
should get on, for the twofold object of seeing the great falls of the
big river, and also getting amongst the elephant.
He could not help smiling with satisfaction, as he saw Dick raise one
foot to the stirrup, and spring into the saddle; the boy seeming to have
grown lithe and strong as the young leopard with his healthy life in the
open air.
There was no need to coax his appetite now with luxuries, for his father
used to banter him laughingly about its wolfishness, and compare his
food-assimilating powers to those of Coffee and Chicory--boys who could
literally graze upon meat by the hour together, and then grin, and show
their teeth with satisfaction.
With his returning health, Dick had grown daring to a degree that was
almost rash, so that Jack felt at times quite thrown into the shade.
Dick winced a little upon this occasion, for the tremendous scratching
he had had from the thorns had left him rather sore; but he soon forgot
all this, and away the party rode, to have a sort of naturalists'
equestrian ramble, to see if they could pick up anything fresh before
they went away.
They rode right off to the plain, noting the various birds among the
bushes, and snakes and lizards wherever there was a dry sandy patch
amongst rocks and stones. As they reached the part where the trees were
scattered in park-like patches they encountered one of the
bees'-honey-guides too; but as they had an ample supply at the waggon,
and all the buckets being, to Dinny's great annoyance, still in use, the
bees were left in peace.
Game seemed to be scarce upon the plain that morning; but after a time
as they rode round the edge of a clump of trees, so beautiful in their
disposition that they seemed to have been planted there for ornament,
Mr Rogers saw, a couple of miles away upon the open plain, a herd of
something different to any of the animals they had before encountered.
He took out his glass and carefully inspected them, but declared himself
no wiser.
"Well, boys," he said, "whether we shoot one or no, we'll have a canter
after them. Let's keep down in that hollow, and round the little hill
there, so as to approach unseen. Look out for ant-bear holes. And now,
one--two--three--forward!"
A touch from the heel made the beautiful animals they rode bound away,
but with a cry of pain Dick reined in.
"My dear boy, what's the matter?" said Mr Rogers, pulling up, while
Jack returned with a blank look of dismay upon his face.
"Thorns!" cried Dick viciously, as he gave a writhe in his saddle.
"Stop and pick 'em out with a pin," cried Jack. "Come along, father.
Haw! haw! haw! I thought he was hurt!" Then sticking his knees into
his nag's side, he bounded off.
"Poor old fellow!" cried Mr Rogers, laughing. "You'll soon forget
them." And he too galloped off, to try and circumvent the herd.
"Go on! ugly old Jack," shouted Dick, as he sat fast, checking his
horse, which wanted to follow. "You'll get a thorn or two in yourself
some day."
He might have shouted this through a speaking trumpet, and his brother
would not have heard, as, sitting well down in his saddle, he led the
way into the hollow, his father close behind, and both thoroughly
enjoying their gallop.
"I don't care!" cried Dick sulkily, as he sat and watched them. "Pick
out the thorns with a pin, indeed! See if I don't stick a pin in old
Jack when he's asleep to-night--and how will he like it?"
Dick gave another writhe as he watched the two riders out of sight, and
then muttering in an ill-used way, "Pick 'em out with a pin indeed!" he
half turned in his seat, lolling in his saddle, and patting and playing
with his horse, when lazily turning his eyes round amongst the clumps of
trees, he saw something moving amongst the leaves.
"Boa-constrictors!" he cried in his astonishment. "Monsters! Ugh! No,
they're those great long-necked giraffes. They looked just like huge
snakes raising themselves amongst the trees."
Dick forgot all about the thorns as he nipped his nag's sides with his
knees, turned its head, and went off at a canter for the place where the
giraffes, seven or eight in number, were browsing upon the lower
branches of the trees, their long necks seeming to writhe in and out
amongst the branches in a way that quite justified Dick's idea of their
being serpents, for their bodies were invisible among the undergrowth.
For a few minutes the great animals did not see the approach of the
young hunter; but the moment they caught sight of the fleet cob bounding
over the sunburnt grass, they went off at a clumsy, waddling gallop,
scattering as they went, their necks outstretched and eyes rolling;
while the cob seemed to single out a beautifully marked calf, about
two-thirds grown, whose creamy skin was regularly spotted with rich
light brown.
Dick's rifle was slung over his back, but he never once thought of using
it. In fact, he hardly knew in the excitement of the chase what he
intended, and so he raced on past patch after patch of scattered trees,
and past clumps of thorns, which both he and the cob carefully avoided.
Now they gained a little; but directly after the giraffe whisked its
tail straight up over its back and put on more power, leaving the hunter
some distance behind; and so the race went on for a couple of miles,
Dick never once remembering his thorns, as he knew that it was only a
question of time to run the great animal to a stand.
"Why, I could catch it then," cried Dick excitedly; and sticking his
heels into his horse, away they went over the grassy plain, gaining
rapidly now; and though the giraffe kept on making an effort to increase
the distance, it was of no avail, for the cob raced on closer and
closer, and then avoiding the vicious kicks of the creature, delivered
with tremendous force by its bony legs, the cob raced on alongside.
There was a wonderful difference in the progress of the two animals--the
one awkward, and seeming as if running on stilts; the other compact,
muscular, and self-contained, evidently possessing double the endurance
with an equal speed to the giraffe.
On still and on, with the cob's sides flecked with foam, and the giraffe
blundering now as it progressed. Once it turned sharp off to the left,
but without a touch the cob wheeled as well, and kept alongside,
watchfully keeping clear whenever he saw the giraffe about to kick,
which it tried to do if there was a chance.
Dick was excited with the chase, so was the cob, which stretched out
more and more greyhound fashion as it raced along.
Fortunately, the grassy prairie-like stretch of land was clear of
obstacles, no ant-bear or other burrow coming in their path, or horse
and rider would have fallen headlong; the eyes of both being fixed upon
the beautiful spotted coat of the giraffe, which, after rolling heavily
in its gait for a while, made one more effort to wheel round and
distance its pursuers, but stumbled in the act, and fell heavily upon
its flank.
The cob stopped as if by instinct; and hardly knowing what he was about,
Dick leaped down, avoided a kick by a quick jump, threw himself on to
the giraffe, kneeling upon its neck, and treating it as people do a
fallen horse, holding down its head upon the ground.
"Ah, you may kick and plunge," muttered Dick, panting and hot with his
exertions; "if a horse can't get up with his head held down, you can't."
And so it proved, for though the unfortunate giraffe kicked and plunged
as it lay upon its flank, going through the motions of galloping, it was
completely mastered without much call for effort. Certainly Dick's gun
was in his way, but he managed to unsling it with one hand, and threw it
and his hat upon the grass, while the cob stood by, snuffing, snorting,
and excited for a few moments at the giraffe's plunges, but settled down
directly after to graze.
The grass was torn up by the giraffe's hoofs, but finding its efforts
vain, it soon lay perfectly still, uttering a piteous sigh, as much as
to say, "There, kill me out of my misery!" to which Dick responded by
patting its neck and stroking its nose, as he gazed in the great
prominent appealing eye, and noted the gentle mien of the tall animal.
Just as he had made the giraffe be perfectly still, he heard a distant
hail, and looking up, there was Jack coming up at full gallop, waving
his gun over his head, and with his father close behind; for,
unknowingly, the race had led Dick somewhat in the direction taken by
his father and brother, who, after an unsuccessful gallop after a very
wild herd, had drawn rein and witnessed the end of the giraffe chase
through the glass.
"Why, Dick, where are the thorns?" cried his father, as they cantered
up.
"Forgot all about 'em, father. Isn't he a beauty?"
"Where is he shot?" said Mr Rogers.
"Shot? He isn't shot. I ran him down," cried Dick.
"Don't kill him, then," cried Jack.
"Not I. Shall I let him go?"
"No, no," cried Jack. "Let's take him back, and tame him."
"I think the taming is already done," said Mr Rogers. "Here, halter
him round the neck, and muzzle him with this, and you can tie another
thong on at the other side."
As he spoke he took a tethering halter from his saddle-bow; it was
slipped over the giraffe's head, another cord attached so that it could
be held on either side; and when this was done, Mr Rogers held one
rope, Jack the other, and Dick got off the giraffe on the side farthest
from its legs.
But there was no more kick left in the tall creature, which raised its
head, looking humbly at its captors, and then slowly rose, shivering,
and as gentle as a lamb.
"There, Dick, sling your gun and mount," cried his father; "unless you
would rather ride the giraffe."
"Oh, no, thank you," said Dick, slinging his gun and picking up his hat,
prior to mounting his docile cob, after which his father handed him the
end of the rope.
After a sniff or two at their tall companion, the two cobs walked gently
on forward, with the giraffe towering up between. The poor beast made
no objection to its captivity, beyond sighing a little, but gazed
dolefully at its leaders in turn; the only difficulty experienced in
getting it to the waggon, being how to accommodate the horses' stride to
that of the captive, which stalked contentedly along, with Mr Rogers
bringing up the rear.