THE FIRST HUNT
The place was astir with the dawn, and after sunrise, with breakfast
over, the party prepared for the start. Gholab Singh took charge of
loading the wagons, and the main question was the matter of personal
equipment.
Each of the boys carried matches in a water-tight box, compass, and
sheath-knife, of course. The elephant guns and ammunition were stored
away for future reference, but the 30-30s were to be slung in holsters
at their saddles for the present. Each wore a bandolier for cartridges,
and their ordinary clothes--flannel shirt and khakis. And, instead of
sun helmets, each boy wore his northern hat--a light, stiff brimmed
Stetson.
"As our shoes go to pieces," said the General, "we'll replace 'em with
moccasins. No use fussing with leggings while we're going to ride. We'll
have open veldt country as far as Mount Kenia, anyway. Just get the
idea that we're in Canada, going by wagon from Athabasca to Fort
McMurray."
Dr. von Hofe was the only member of the party who from habit insisted on
leggings and boots. Their horses were steady, flea-bitten little beasts,
not unlike mustangs, and mounts had been provided for the gun-bearers,
to the huge delight of all three. Gholab Singh also demanded a horse,
which he obtained, as being worthy of his dignity.
It was a military-looking little cavalcade. The Indians had all served
in the native cavalry regiments and Gholab maintained strict military
discipline. Behind their saddles the boys strapped slickers and H. B. C.
blankets--the sight of the latter making Jack just a trifle homesick.
Water canteens also were slung at the saddle.
After receiving a letter from Andrus to Jan Botha, Louis Schoverling
gave the order to march. Gholab Singh rode to the gate of the compound,
reined up, and drew from his neck his silver whistle. One sharp blast,
and the two wagons, containing the four who were to bring back the
skins, started. A shouted farewell, and the two boys followed the
General and von Hofe to the head of the march, the Sikh riding with
them and the other gun-bearers on each side of the wagons.
"Isn't this glorious?" declared Charlie as he rode at Jack's side. "I
thought it would be as hot as blazes!"
"Oh, we'll need our blankets at night, I guess,--hello! There's an
antelope! What kind is he, General?"
Charlie unslung his glasses hastily to gaze at the quiet figure on a
ridge four hundred yards away, but the explorer answered quickly.
"Grant's gazelle, Jack. The most beautiful of all antelopes. He must be
an old buck, to judge from his long horns."
"When are we going to hunt a little?" asked Charlie. "I'm itching to get
at the guns."
"Not till this afternoon. We can knock over a couple of small antelope
then, which will be plenty for all of us. See here, Doctor. These wagons
won't make Botha's ranch until sometime to-morrow. How would it suit you
to ride on and put up there overnight, then get our Masai all ready to
start as soon as the wagons come up?"
"I am very happy," declared von Hofe, who was settled down comfortably
in his saddle, his pipe going full blast. "It matters not to me a bit.
Perhaps it would be better to spend to-night in solid comfort."
"Very well. Guru!"
"Yes, sahib?" The Sikh drew up and saluted.
"You will bring the other gun-bearers with us for a short hunt. We are
going to have an early meal and then push on. Gholab Singh, I leave the
safari in your care. You know the way to Jan Botha's?"
"I do, sahib. We will arrive to-morrow morning at ten of the clock."
Charlie winked at Jack, who smiled. The military precision of the
stately Gurkha was of no little amusement to them at first, but Gholab
promised to be a valuable man in a pinch. The gun-bearers were of little
use at present, but would be highly necessary later on, and with their
advice Schoverling knew that the two novices in Africa would get along
well enough.
Von Hofe having absolutely no interest in hunting, save as regarded his
own work, stayed with the wagons. The other six rode out to one side,
parallel with the line of march. At a word from Guru, Amir Ali spurred
up his horse and departed at a steady gallop to the right.
"He will beat up something," replied the Sikh to their looks of
surprise. "Here game is not very thick."
Amir disappeared amid the tall grass and dotted trees, and five minutes
later Charlie, with rifle ready, saw a tiny shape bounding through the
grass two hundred yards to the right.
"You first, Chuck," exclaimed Jack quietly.
Setting his sights for two hundred yards, Charlie aimed behind the
shoulder of the antelope, and fired. The shot went a little high, owing
to the jump of the beast, but the boy gave a yell of satisfaction as the
antelope went down, its back broken by the shot. As they rode up he
mercifully killed it with a shot through the brain, and the two boys
looked down on their first Thomson's gazelle, or "tommy."
"Good shot, Charlie," declared the explorer. "Now one for you, Jack, and
we'll have enough for this time."
A mile or so farther on Jack got his chance at one of the larger
Grant's, and fetched him down with a single shot at three hundred
yards, which caused the two Indians to give a cry of delight at his
skill. By the time Amir rejoined them the wagons, were "hull down" on
the horizon. Guru and Akram Das slung the two gazelles over their
saddles, and all six started across the veldt at a brisk canter.
Suddenly Jack's horse, in the lead, stopped dead still, trembling. In
vain the boy urged him on, wondering what was the matter. The horse only
backed, his ears flat, and then Jack saw that those of the others were
doing likewise.
"What's the trouble, General?" exclaimed Charlie. Schoverling unslung
his rifle.
"Lion, boys. These are well-trained horses, evidently. See that patch of
mimosa just ahead? We are down-wind from that, and they probably smelled
a lion. Head around it, and they will be all right."
They arrived opposite the little ridge, topped with a dense growth of
long grass, thorn and trees, when an exclamation burst from the Sikh.
Out from the thicket broke a long, tawny shape, barely a hundred yards
away. It was a magnificent black-maned lion, who stood lashing his sides
and watching them as they drew rein.
"There's your chance for a lion," said Schoverling, as the Indians cast
a glance at him. Charlie shrugged his shoulders, watching the animal
with eager interest.
"What's the use in killing him, General?" he replied. "We don't want his
skin particularly, and he's no good for food. How about it, Jack?"
The other's hand fell from his rifle-butt.
"Of course, Chuck. He won't attack us, I suppose?"
"You'd like the excuse, eh?" laughed the explorer. "No, he won't attack
us. He's probably got his dinner in that thicket, and heard us coming.
It might be of advantage to the sheep ranchers hereabouts to kill him,
but certainly not to us."
They rode on, leaving the tawny beast still gazing after them. The
Indians were keenly disappointed over not shooting the lion, but neither
boy had cared to do so. They had been too well trained to slaughter
needlessly; Jack, in particular, had no small share of the Cree feeling
that animals are but "little brothers," and more than once thereafter
Charlie heard him mutter the Indian's apology for taking life, as he
shot.
Upon rejoining the wagons a halt was made, Gholab Singh taking charge of
the gazelles. After a good dinner the four white men rode on ahead,
following the rude track across the veldt, and the wagons were speedily
out of sight.
"This looks a whole lot like the Alberta and Montana country," declared
Charlie as they rode along. "With those hills off in the distance, and
the dry gullies fringed with trees, a fellow might think he was just
pushing across our own range land. Wouldn't this be a swell cow country,
Jack?"
"Looks like it," rejoined the Cree. "Look at those ostriches! Isn't that
a ranch, up there among those buttes?"
By the aid of their glasses they could see a small ranch-house, a good
four miles away, but clear-cut and distinct in the rarefied atmosphere
of the plateau. White dots were scattered near by, which Schoverling
declared were sheep.
"They must suffer to some extent from wild animals," he said, "but on
the whole the sheep ranges up here are in fine shape. It's a great
little old country, boys. If I could make up my mind to settle down I'd
like to take up a few thousand acres back near the hills and try
irrigation."
"It is too dry," nodded the doctor wisely. "Some day they will irrigate
all this. Then the animals will be gone, all gone."
"What of it?" said Jack slyly. "Folks will come just the same to see the
masterpieces made by the great von Hofe! The sooner the game goes, the
more valuable you will be."
"Ach, no!" Von Hofe shook his head sadly. "It is not nice to see the
fine animals be killed off. Look at South Africa--all the game is gone,
all the Zulu kingdoms are gone, and instead there is railroads and mines
and factories. It is not nice."
"Well, that's the advance of civilization," declared Schoverling. "It
was the same in Ohio and Missouri and Montana--everywhere. And yet there
are always new fields to conquer."
"As long as the H. B. C. ran things," flashed up Jack, with the true
Indian prejudice, "it was all right in Canada. The Company took care of
the game first rate. But now everybody takes a whack at trapping--and
where's the beaver gone?"
"True enough," sighed the explorer. "But the hunter must give place to
the settler, Jack."
A spirited argument ensued, to which Charlie and von Hofe listened
amusedly. In the end Jack had to confess that Schoverling was right,
however. Towards evening they got into more rolling country, while to
the northeast towered up the hills about Mount Kenia, whose snowy summit
had been long visible, although nearly a hundred miles away.
Just before sunset they cantered up to Botha's ranch. The hospitable
Boer did not need the letter from Piet Andrus to welcome them, and the
boys were keenly interested in his family. This consisted of his wife,
two stalwart, bearded sons, and their own families--chubby little Dutch
people who clambered over everyone, once their shyness had been removed.
Von Hofe was soon a prime favorite with them.
After dinner was over, the boys discovered that Botha was related to the
famous General of the same name, and had fought through the Boer war
with him until his capture. Like many other Boers, Jan had brought his
family up into the new country, where his sons had grown up, and where
his great ranch was speedily making him wealthy. Dutch and English lived
side by side on a perfectly friendly footing, and the old quarrels were
forgotten forever.
Jan Botha willingly agreed to ride over early in the morning, and set
them right at the Masai village, a dozen miles away, where he was well
known. So Charlie and Jack found themselves up before the dawn with the
rest of the family, eating breakfast by lamplight, and with the first
light of dawn they were on horseback, shivering in the chill morning
air.
An hour after sunrise they reached the village, a collection of grass
huts beside a river in the hills. Charlie was a little surprised to find
that the Masai were stalwart, eager-faced warriors, well dressed in
blankets or cotton cloth draped from the shoulder, and bearing spears,
bows, and black-and-white shields of hide.
"I wonder if they are really a branch of the Zulus?" asked Jack while
Botha was talking with the headman.
"Hardly," said Schoverling. "But no doubt they are distantly connected.
Perhaps they are some of the Zulus driven north by the great king
Tchaka, a hundred years ago. They are extremely fierce warriors, and
highly respected by the other natives. With a score of those fellows for
bodyguard, we'll get along finely."
Bakari proved to be the name of an English-speaking Masai who was put in
charge of twenty-five men and hired to accompany the expedition as far
as Mount Kenia, or beyond. As the Masai eat nothing but meat, foraging
for vegetables would be an easy matter, Charlie concluded.
They reached the Botha farmhouse about nine, the warriors loping easily
behind them. An hour later, almost to the minute, the wagons topped a
rise and Gholab Singh drew up and saluted. As there was no use in delay,
they all bade the hospitable Boers farewell, and pushed on straight for
Kenia.