Snowball was an `old soldier'--I say it with all respect! He had been
through the wars; that is to say, he had seen the ups and downs of life
and had learnt the equine equivalent of "God helps those who help
themselves." For Snowball was a horse.
Tsetse was also an old soldier, but he was what you might call a
gentleman old soldier, with a sense of duty; and in his case the
discipline and honour of his calling were not garments for occasion but
part of himself. Snowball was no gentleman: he was selfish and
unscrupulous, a confirmed shirker, often absent without leave, and upon
occasions a rank deserter--for which last he once narrowly escaped being
shot.
Tsetse belonged to my friend Hall; but Snowball was mine! What I know
about him was learnt with mortification of the spirit and flesh; and
what he could not teach in that way was `over the head' of the most
indurated old dodger that ever lived.
Tsetse had his peculiarities and prejudices: like many old soldiers he
was a stickler for etiquette and did not like departures from habit and
routine; for instance, he would not under any circumstances permit
mounting on the wrong side--a most preposterous stand for an old salted
shooting horse to take, and the cause of much inconvenience at times.
On the mountains it often happened that the path was too narrow and the
slope too steep to permit one to mount on the left side, whereas the
sharp rise of the ground made it very easy on the right. But Tsetse
made no allowance for this, and if the attempt were made he would stand
quite still until the rider was off the ground but not yet in the
saddle, and then buck continuously until the offender shot overhead and
went skidding down the slope. To one encumbered with a rifle in hand,
and a kettle or perhaps a couple of legs of buck slung on the saddle,
Tsetse's protest was usually irresistible.
Snowball had no unpractical prejudices: he objected to work--that was
all. He was a pure white horse, goodness knows how old, with enormously
long teeth; every vestige of grey or other tinge had faded out of him,
and his eyes had an aged and resigned look: one warmed to him at sight
as a "dear old pet of a Dobbin!" who ought to be passing his last years
grazing contentedly in a meadow and giving bareback rides to little
children. The reproach of his venerable look nearly put me off taking
him--it seemed such a shame to make the dear old fellow work; but I
hardened my heart and, feeling rather a brute, bought him because he was
`salted' and would live in the Bushveld: beside that, all other
considerations were trivial. Of course he was said to be a shooting
horse, and he certainly took no notice of a gun fired under his nose or
from his back--which was all the test I could apply at the time; and
then his legs were quite sound; his feet were excellent; he had lost no
teeth yet; and he was in tip top condition. What more could one want?
"He looks rather a fool of a horse!" I had remarked dubiously to Joey
the Smith, who was `willin' to let him go,' and I can recall now the
peculiar glint in Joey's eye and the way he sort of steadied himself
with a little cough before he answered feelingly:
"He's no fool, sonny! You won't want to get a cleverer horse as long as
you live!" And no more I did--as we used to say! Snowball had one
disfigurement, consisting of a large black swelling as big as a small
orange behind his left eye, which must have annoyed him greatly; it
could easily have been removed, and many suggestions were made on the
subject but all of them were firmly declined. Without that lump I
should have had no chance against him: it was the weak spot in his
defence: it was the only cover under which it was possible to stalk him
when he made one of his determined attempts to dodge or desert; for he
could see nothing that came up behind him on the left side without
turning his head completely round; hence one part of the country was
always hidden from him, and of course it was from this quarter that we
invariably made our approaches to attack.
So well did Snowball realise this that when the old villain intended
giving trouble he would start off with his head swung away to the right,
and when far enough away to graze in security--a hundred yards or so was
enough--would turn right about and face towards the waggons or camp, or
wherever the danger-quarter was; then, keeping us well in view, he would
either graze off sideways, or from time to time walk briskly off to
occupy a new place, with the right eye swung round on us like a
search-light.
Against all this, however, it is only fair to admit that there were
times when for days, and even weeks, at a stretch he would behave
admirably, giving no more trouble than Jock did. Moreover he had
qualities which were not to be despised. He was as sound as a bell,
very clever on his feet, never lost his condition, and, although not
fast, could last for ever at his own pace.
Experience taught me to take no chances with Snowball. After a hard day
he was apt to think that `enough was as good as a feast,' and then
trouble might be expected. But there was really no safe rule with him;
he seemed to have moods--to `get out of bed on the wrong side'--on
certain days and, for no reason in the world, behave with a calculated
hostility that was simply maddening.
Hunting horses live almost entirely by grazing, as it is seldom possible
to carry any grain or other foods for them and never possible to carry
enough; and salted horses have therefore a particular value in that they
can be turned out to graze at night or in the morning and evening dews
when animals not immunised will contract horse-sickness; thus they feed
during the hours when hunting is not possible and keep their condition
when an unsalted horse would fall away from sheer want of food.
According to their training, disposition, and knowledge of good and
evil, horses are differently treated when `offsaddled'; some may be
trusted without even a halter, and can be caught and saddled when and
where required; others are knee-haltered; others are hobbled by a strap
coupling either both fore feet, or one fore and one hind foot, with
enough slack to allow walking, but not enough for the greater reach of a
trot or gallop; whilst some incorrigibles are both knee-haltered and
hobbled; and in this gallery Snowball figured upon occasion--a mournful
and injured innocent, if appearances went for anything!
It was not, as a rule, at the outspan, where many hands were available,
that Snowball gave trouble, but out hunting when I was alone or with
only one companion. A trained shooting horse should stop as soon as his
rider lays hand on mane to dismount, and should remain where he is left
for any length of time until his master returns; some horses require the
reins to be dropped over their heads to remind them of their duty but
many can safely be left to themselves and will be found grazing quietly
where left.
Snowball knew well what to do, but he pleased himself about doing it;
sometimes he would stand; sometimes move off a little way, and keep
moving--just out of reach--holding his head well on one side so that he
should not tread on the trailing reins or the long weighted reimpje
which was attached to his bit for the purpose of hindering and catching
him; sometimes, with a troop of buck moving on ahead or perhaps a
wounded one to follow, this old sinner would rightabout-face and simply
walk off--only a few yards separating us--with his ears laid back, his
tail tucked down ominously, and occasional little liftings of his hind
quarters to let me know what to expect--and his right eye on me all the
while; and, if I ran to head him off, he would break into a trot and
leave me a little worse off than before; and sometimes, in familiar
country, he would make straight away for the waggons without more ado.
It is demoralising in the extreme to be expecting a jerk when in the act
of aiming--and Snowball, who cared no more for shooting than a deaf
gunner, would plunge like a two-year-old when he was play-acting--and it
is little better, while creeping forward for a shot, to hear your horse
strolling off behind and realise that you will have to hunt for him and
perhaps walk many miles back to camp without means of carrying anything
you may shoot. The result of experience was that I had to choose
between two alternatives: either to hook him up to a tree or bush each
time or hobble him with his reins, and so lose many good chances of
quick shots when coming unexpectedly on game; or to slip an arm through
the reins and take chance of being plucked off my aim or jerked
violently backwards as I fired. But it was at the `offsaddles' on long
journeys across country or during the rest in a day's hunt that trouble
was most to be feared, and although hobbling is dangerous in a country
so full of holes, stumps, and all sorts of grass-hidden obstacles, there
were times when consideration for Snowball seemed mighty like pure
foolishness, and it would have been no grief to me if he had broken his
neck!
To the credit of Snowball stand certain things, however, and it is but
justice to say that, when once in the ranks, he played his part well;
and it is due to him to say that during one hard season a camp of
waggons with their complement of men had to be kept in meat, and it was
Snowball who carried--for short and long distances, through dry rough
country, at all times of day and night, hot, thirsty and tired, and
without a breakdown or a day's sickness--a bag that totalled many
thousands of pounds in weight, and the man who made the bag.
"That wall-eyed brute of yours" was launched at me in bitterness of
spirit on many occasions when Snowball led the normally well-behaved
ones astray; and it is curious to note how strength of character or
clear purpose will establish leadership among animals, as among men.
Rooiland the restless, when dissatisfied with the grass or in want of
water, would cast about up wind for a few minutes and then with his hot
eyeballs staring and nostrils well distended choose his line, going
resolutely along and only pausing from time to time to give a low moan
for signal and allow the straggling string of unquestioning followers to
catch up. When Rooiland had `trek fever' there was no rest for herd
boys. So too with old Snowball: he led the well-behaved astray and they
followed him blindly. Had Snowball been a schoolboy, a wise headmaster
would have expelled him--for the general good and discipline of the
school.
On one long horseback journey through Swaziland to the coast, where few
white men and no horses had yet been seen, we learned to know Snowball
and Tsetse well, and found out what a horse can do when put to it. It
was a curious experience on that trip to see whole villages flee in
terror at the first sight of the new strange animals--one brown and one
white: in some places not even the grown men would approach, but too
proud to show fear, they stood their ground, their bronze faces
blanching visibly and setting hard as we rode up; the women fled with
half-stifled cries of alarm; and once, when we came unexpectedly upon a
party of naked urchins playing on the banks of a stream, the whole pack
set off full cry for the water and, jumping in like a school of alarmed
frogs, disappeared. Infinitely amused by the stampede we rode up to see
what had become of them, but the silence was absolute, and for a while
they seemed to have vanished altogether; then a tell-tale ripple gave
the clue, and under the banks among the ferns and exposed roots we
picked out little black faces half submerged and pairs of frightened
eyes staring at us from all sides. They were not to be reassured,
either: the only effect produced by our laughing comments and friendly
overtures being that the head which deemed itself pointedly addressed
would disappear completely and remain so long out of sight as to make us
feel quite smothery and criminally responsible.
It is in the rivers that a man feels the importance of a good horse with
a stout heart, and his dependence on it. There were no roads, and not
even known tracks, there; and when we reached the Black Umbelusi we
picked a place where there was little current and apparently an easy way
out on the opposite side. It was much deeper than it looked; however,
we were prepared, and thirty yards of swimming did not trouble us; yet
it certainly was a surprise to us when the horses swam right up to the
other bank without finding bottom and, turning aside, began to swim up
stream. Looking down into the clear depths we saw that there was a
sheer wall of rock to within a few inches of the surface. Now, a horse
with a man on his back swims low--only the head and half the neck
showing above water--and by what instinct or means the horses realised
the position I do not know, but, with little hesitation and apparently
of one accord, they got back a yard or two from the ledge and, raising
first one fore foot and then the other, literally climbed out--exactly
as a man or a dog does out of a swimming bath--hoisting their riders out
with them without apparent difficulty. That was something which we had
not thought possible, and to satisfy ourselves we dismounted and tried
the depth; but the ten foot reeds failed to reach bottom.
When it came to crossing the Crocodile River we chose the widest spot in
the hope that it would be shallow and free of rocks. We fired some
shots into the river to scare the crocodiles, and started to cross; but
to our surprise Tsetse, the strong-nerved and reliable, who always had
the post of honour in front, absolutely refused to enter.
The water of the Crocodile is at its best of amber clearness and we
could not see bottom, but the sloping grassy bank promised well enough
and no hint reached us of what the horses knew quite well. All we had
was on our horses--food, blankets, billy, rifles and ammunition. We
were off on a long trip and, to vary or supplement the game diet,
carried a small packet of tea, a little sugar, flour, and salt, and some
beads with which to trade for native fowls and thick milk; the guns had
to do the rest. Thus there were certain things we could not afford to
wet, and these we used to wrap up in a mackintosh and carry high when it
came to swimming, but this crossing looked so easy that it seemed
sufficient to raise the packs instead of carrying part of them.
Tsetse, who in the ordinary way regarded the spur as part of the
accepted discipline, promptly resented it when there seemed to him to be
sufficient reason; and when Hall, astonished at Tsetse's unexpected
obstinacy, gave him both heels, the old horse considerately swung round
away from the river, and with a couple of neatly executed bucks shot his
encumbered rider off the raised pack, yards away on to the soft grass--
water-bottle, rifle, bandolier and man landing in a lovely tangle.
I then put old Snowball at it, fully expecting trouble; but the old
soldier was quite at home; he walked quietly to the edge, sat down
comfortably, and slid into the water--launching himself with scarce a
ripple just like an old hippo. That gave us the explanation of Tsetse's
tantrum: the water came up to the seat of my saddle and walking was only
just possible. I stopped at once, waiting for Tsetse to follow; and
Hall, prepared for another refusal, sat back and again used his spurs.
No doubt Tsetse, once he knew the depth, was quite satisfied and meant
to go in quietly, and the prick of the spur must have been unexpected,
for he gave a plunge forward, landing with his fore feet in deep water
and hind quarters still on the bank, and Hall shot out overhead, landing
half across old Snowball's back. There was a moment of ludicrous but
agonised suspense! Hall's legs were firmly gripping Tsetse behind the
ears while he sprawled on his stomach on Snowball's crupper, with the
reins still in one hand and the rifle in the other. Doubled up with
suppressed laughter I grabbed a fist full of shirt and held on, every
moment expecting Tsetse to hoist his head or pull back and complete the
disaster, while Hall was spluttering out directions, entreaties and
imprecations; but good old Tsetse never moved, and Hall handing me the
rifle managed to swarm backwards on to Tsetse's withers and scramble on
to the pack again.
Then, saddle-deep in the river--duckings and crocodiles forgotten--we
sat looking at each other and laughed till we ached.
The river was about three hundred yards wide there with a good sandy
bottom and of uniform depth, but, to our disappointment, we found that
the other bank which had appeared to slope gently to the water edge was
in fact a sheer wall standing up several feet above the river level.
The beautiful slope which we had seen consisted of water grass and reed
tops; the bank itself was of firm moist clay; and the river bottom close
under it was soft mud. We tried a little way up and down, but found
deeper water, more mud and reeds, and no break in the bank; there was
not even a lagavaan slide, a game path, or a drinking-place. There
seemed to be nothing for it but to go back again and try somewhere else.
Hall was `bad to beat' when he started on anything--he did not know how
to give in; but when he looked at the bank and said, "We'll have a shot
at this," I thought at first he was joking. Later, to my remark that
"no horse ever born would face that," he answered that "any way we could
try: it would be just as good as hunting for more places of the same
sort!"
I do not know the height of the bank, as we were not thinking of records
at that time, but there are certain facts which enable one to guess
fairly closely.
Tsetse was ranged up beside the bank, and Hall standing in the saddle
threw his rifle and bandolier up and scrambled out himself. I then
loosened Tsetse's girths from my seat on Snowball, and handed up the
packed saddle--Hall lying down on the bank to take it from me; and we
did the same with Snowball's load, including my own clothes, for, as it
was already sundown, a ducking was not desirable, I loosened one side of
Tsetse's reins, and after attaching one of mine in order to give the
necessary length to them threw the end up to Hall, and he cut and handed
me a long supple rod for a whip to stir Tsetse to his best endeavours.
The water there was rather more than half saddle-flap high; I know that
because it just left me a good expanse of hind quarters to aim at when
the moment came.
"Now!" yelled Hall, "Up, Tsetse! Up!"; and whack went the stick!
Tsetse reared up, right on end; he could not reach the top but struck
his fore feet into the moist bank near the top, and with a mighty plunge
that soused Snowball and me, went out. The tug on the leading rein, on
which Hall had thrown all his weight when Tsetse used it to lever
himself up, had jerked Hall flat on his face; but he was up in a minute,
and releasing Tsetse threw back the rein to get Snowball to face it
while the example was fresh.
Then for the first time we thought of the crocodiles--and the river was
full of them! But Snowball without some one behind him with a stick
would never face that jump, and there was nothing for it but to fire
some scaring shots, and slip into the water and get the job over as
quickly as possible.
Snarleyow was with us--I had left Jock at the waggons fearing that we
would get into fly country on the Umbelusi--and the bank was too high
and too steep for him; he huddled up against it half supported by reeds,
and whined plaintively.
To our relief Snowball faced the jump quite readily; indeed, the old
sinner did it with much less effort and splash than the bigger Tsetse.
But then came an extremely unpleasant spell. Snowball got a scare,
because Hall in his anxiety to get me out rushed up to him on the warty
side to get the reins off; and the old ruffian waltzed around, dragging
Hall through the thorns, while Snarleyow and I waited in the water for
help.
At that moment I had a poorer opinion of Snowball and Snarley than at
any other I can remember. I wished Snarley dead twenty times in twenty
seconds. Crocodiles love dogs; and it seemed to me a million to one
that a pair of green eyes and a black snout must slide out of the water
any moment, drawn to us by those advertising whines! And the worst of
it was, I was outside Snarley with my white legs gleaming in the open
water, while his cringing form was tucked away half hidden by the reeds.
What an age it seemed! How each reed shaken by the river breeze caught
the eye, giving me goose-flesh and sending waves of cold shudders
creeping over me! How the cold smooth touch of a reed stem against my
leg made me want to jump and to get out with one huge plunge as the
horses had done! And even when I had passed the struggling yowling
Snarley up, the few remaining seconds seemed painfully long. Hall had
to lie flat and reach his furthest to grip my hand; and I nearly pulled
him in, scrambling up that bank like a chased cat up a tree.
When one comes to think it out, the bank must have been nine feet high.
It was mighty unpleasant; but it taught us what a horse can do when he
puts, his back into it!