A DESPERATE BATTLE
Fortunately for the entire party, the bandoliers were filled that noon
with the heavy cordite bullets, for Schoverling advised all to carry
their heavy guns. Guru, Akram Das and Amir Ali carried the 30-30s, while
von Hofe broke out a box of shells for the shotgun, as he wished to get
a specimen of a peculiar crane he had seen that morning in the river,
and refused to let the others shoot it for him.
"Nein," he objected determinedly. "I shoot my own specimens, thanks, for
it is good to say, 'Shot and mounted by Gross von Hofe.' I can shoot
when I wish."
"I should say you can," laughed Charlie. "You sure nipped that big snake
in the right place, Doctor! I never saw any better shooting."
"You let the doctor alone," chuckled Schoverling. "He knows his business
better than any of us. Give him an elephant gun, if he wants it!"
The big Teuton smiled broadly through his blond beard, for the praise
was dear to his honest heart. While they sat and rested, Gholab Singh
washed the tin dishes, humming one of his native songs. Jack's quick eye
caught a movement in the bushes toward the river, and as he jumped up a
big boar came running out.
"Knock him over," suggested Schoverling lazily. "But we'll have to cut
him up and cook him ourselves."
Jack agreed, as the boar trotted across the open space, followed by
another. Catching up his 30-30, which lay with the other guns close at
hand, he put a shot through the brain of the second animal. Charlie
joined him and they ran out to bring in the body, as the Sikh was the
only Indian who would touch pig's flesh.
"Say, Jack," exclaimed Charlie as they bent over the boar, "didn't it
strike you queer that they'd run out that way? 'Most as if somethin' was
after 'em."
"Right," and Jack sprang to his feet. Looking closely, they could see
the tops of the twenty-foot reeds along the river-bank shaking heavily
and slowly, as if massive bodies were advancing. "Maybe it's a rhino,
Chuck. He wouldn't bother us--hello! What's up?"
A chorus of shrill yells from the Masai above startled them. Glancing
up, they saw Schoverling and the gun-bearers catching up their weapons,
while the natives were leading the cattle away from the wagon, the
inspanning having already begun for the march. They saw Gholab Singh
catch up the little rifle belonging to von Hofe.
"Jumpin' sandhills!" began Charlie in wonder. "What on earth--"
"Get up here!" roared the General at them. "Boys! Quick!"
Without pausing to inquire further the boys jumped for the camp. A
moment later they stood gazing around in amazement, inquiring what was
wrong. For answer the explorer pointed to the river below. The boys
whirled, then a single cry burst from their lips and they stood
astounded, unable to believe their eyes.
"Ach, himmel! Vot a sight!" broke from the doctor.
There, bending down the tough reeds like grass, a mighty herd of buffalo
was coming slowly forward, the first two or three just emerging into
the clearing. All together, there must have been sixty or seventy of
them--but what buffalo they were!
Great, shaggy fellows, nearly a third larger than those the boys had
seen and shot during the first part of the trip, they seemed like some
part of a wild dream. It flashed through Charlie's mind that it must
have been such buffalo as this that Mowbray had seen, or rather, that
had scattered his Arabs.
Slowly the great mass pushed forward, heads upturned. Plainly they had
scented the camp, for they were down-wind, and intended to investigate.
Both boys realized that they were in grave danger, as this became
apparent.
"Think they'll dare to charge us?" murmured Charlie, a little pale.
"Can't tell," returned the explorer, staring. "Great Scott, what
animals! No wonder Mowbray's men lit out for safety! If they come on,
we're goners."
That they plainly meant to come on was soon evident. The foremost paused
to sniff and paw the body of the slain boar, and to gaze up at the
waiting men, then those crowding behind shoved them onward. Two or
three went on to one side, but the others began the ascent of the little
hill without hesitation.
"We'll have to stop them," said Schoverling, his face set. Charlie
looked around to find Jack at his elbow, gun ready, black eyes
glittering, and cheeks flushed darkly. Behind were grouped the Indian
gun-bearers, fully recognizing the danger. The Masai, chattering but
with arrow on the string, stood near the wagon.
"Bakari!" called the explorer quickly. At the sound of his voice the
giant buffalo halted for a moment, and the boys yelled in hope that they
would retire. But the hope proved groundless, as they came forward with
slow steps again.
"Bakari, put some of your men up into that tree--keep those bulls away
from the wagon and oxen at all costs," ordered the General. The Masai
nodded, and a moment later five of his men went up nimbly into the big
mimosa, and threaded their way out along the branches until they stood
over the heads of the boys. The wagon and oxen were twenty feet behind,
and the remaining natives grouped before them.
"All right, boys," said Schoverling quietly. "Don't fire at the head,
remember, unless you are sure of the eye. We've got to stop them at
once."
Charlie and Jack lifted their guns. The tremendous beasts were a scant
fifty yards below, but more were crowding up from the reeds every
instant. The four white men spread out at intervals of a few yards, the
gun-bearers between. Von Hofe, shotgun in hand, stood on the long
wagon-tongue with Gholab Singh.
The three heavy Hammonds rang out with a crash. Charlie's bull went
down, as did two more, and a wild bellow of fury went up from the entire
herd. Instantly the second barrels streamed forth their deadly cordite,
and a mass of kicking, struggling animals lay below them, while from the
Masai streamed forth spears and arrows.
"Hope that holds them," said Schoverling, as they reloaded rapidly. The
gun-bearers, as good gun-bearers should, had not yet fired but stood
waiting till the last extremity.
"By golly!" yelled Jack, bringing up his rifle hurriedly. Instead of
being intimidated, the shots and powder-reek seemed to render the herd
more furious yet. Loud snortings, swishing tails and pawing hoofs
testified to their rage, and the bodies of the slain were trampled into
a bloody mass as the herd swept on.
Down went the foremost again, impeding those behind, and Schoverling
nodded to the Indians as he reloaded. The 30-30s spoke out, each of the
old soldiers wasting not a shot, but firing the five cartridges in his
magazine slowly and methodically. The scene below was terrible, and the
wild yells of the Masai rose high over the snorting and bellowing. But
great as was the slaughter, the immense herd poured up bodily, until
they were but thirty yards down the hill, the bodies of the killed
trampled underfoot, those behind pressing the others forward in mad
rage.
Now there was no let-up. Charlie loaded and fired as fast as he was
able, as did Jack and the rest. Another volley from the Indians helped,
and from the wagon von Hofe scattered bird-shot wildly, but Gholab's
little rifle-ball picked more than one bull neatly through the eye to
the brain.
From above the Masai streamed down their arrows into the backs of the
giant brutes, until the wounded ones turned and lashed out at their
fellows. Shot after shot poured down into the crowded mass of buffalo,
and a moment later Charlie knew that the fight was all but won. Those in
the van had gone down, those behind were rearing and trampling, fighting
each other in desperate confusion, forgetting what lay ahead.
Suddenly a yell of terror from behind startled Charlie and he saw Jack
whirl with a shout. While they had been fighting the foe in front, a
single bull, led perhaps by some instinct, had quietly ascended the hill
from the rear and was shaking his head angrily at Bakari and his
remaining five men.
As the boys turned, the Masai unhesitatingly poured spears at him, and
with a bellow of pain he charged them. They faced him gallantly, but
before Jack or Charlie could fire, one went high in air and another was
trampled under foot. Gholab leaped from the wagon with his small rifle,
and sprang forward; but, taking a desperate chance, Jack had fired at
the brute's shoulder. The buffalo turned and made for the little party,
and as he did so Gholab Singh shot him through the eye at ten yards.
A yell of delight from Guru drew Charlie back to the front. Here it was
evident that the buffalo were retiring, only two solitary bulls
charging through the bloody, tangled mass of hoofs and horns. One of
these the General dropped, and Amir Ali attended to the other. A moment
later the herd drew away, sullenly and fighting among themselves still,
to the shelter of the reeds, where the snortings and bellowings
gradually died away in the distance.
With the lifting of the terrific strain, Charlie staggered and caught
Schoverling's arm, while Jack sank down beside him with drawn face. Guru
and his comrades leaped down the hill to kill the wounded, kicking
bulls.
"There, boys, you take it easy," said the explorer, his voice just a
trifle shaken. "That was pretty bad for a minute, but we pulled out all
right."
"Better see to the Masai," said Charlie faintly.
Schoverling looked up, noting for the first time the slain bull by the
wagon. The boys watched him leap to the side of von Hofe, who was
kneeling over the injured men.
"I've had about enough of this country," grunted Charlie, rising shakily
as his weakness passed. "Feel better?"
"Some." Jack, also unsteady under the reaction of their great mental and
physical strain, got to his feet. "It was a tight squeeze, old chap!"
"You bet. Let's see how bad the men were hurt."
They joined the group. The gored man had an ugly wound in his side. The
other had hung to the horns of the buffalo, and beyond a slash in the
arm and a few broken ribs, was in no serious danger. The two were placed
in the wagon, where the doctor gave them much needed attention.
"I'm going to get away from here," said the explorer. "Bakari, you did
nobly! Gholab, Guru, and the rest of you, I can only say that I am proud
of you--more proud than ever. Shake hands!"
Smiling broadly, the bearded Indians obeyed, after which the boys shook
hands also.
"It was good work, sahib," declared the Sikh gravely. "We are men, all
of us. Such a fight will make great telling when we get back!"
Von Hofe received his full share of the praise, for his bird-shot had
contributed no little to the rout of the giant buffaloes. He, however,
was already busy with his camera, and only the assurance of Schoverling
that they could get a skin at another time got him to his horse. Half
an hour later they were away from the scene of the battle, to which the
kites and vultures were already flocking through the sky.
"We won't go far," announced the leader. "I don't mind confessing that
I'm pretty badly shaken up and want to rest for the remainder of the
day. We got out of that scrape almighty well, boys, if you want to know
it!"
"Guess we did," returned Charlie with an uneasy glance around. "I won't
forget that for many a long day! If the Indians hadn't stood by us--"
He did not need to finish, and the explorer nodded. Two miles farther
on, and a mile from the river; they halted beside a little creek. They
had learned the value of a big tree, and the oxen were outspanned around
a spreading fig-tree of gigantic size. The Masai built a zareba around,
and for the rest of the afternoon they stayed quietly recuperating from
the terrible exertions of that battle. In the evening great fires were
built and the traps set out again.
Nothing disturbed them that night. They slept in their blankets under
the shelter of the giant tree, but as they rolled up--von Hofe being on
guard for the first three hours--Jack whispered to Charlie.
"If we struck a herd of them fellows while we were down on low
ground--good-bye!"
"You shut up and go to sleep," retorted Charlie. "Every time I close my
eyes I think of those tossin' heads. I don't want to dream about them."
"Bet a cookie you will," chuckled Jack. "Remember how their eyes rolled,
and the first ones we shot got all trampled out of shape, and--"
Charlie reached over with a mimosa thorn and ended the discussion
suddenly. But, nevertheless, his dreams that night were none too
pleasant, and he woke more than once, almost feeling a herd of those
giant buffaloes grinding him beneath their hoofs.