CHAPTER VII.

STALKING A KOODOO--HARRY AND JACK AMONG ELANDS--CAUGHT

IN A PITFALL.

I was bowing myself away when Mrs. Roberts, with a gracious smile,

said:

"I am greatly pleased to have met you, and if it should be in your

way to pass near our encampment it would give us pleasure to see you."

I thanked her for the invitation, and said it would give me pleasure

to accept it. Then I made my adieus and turned back to the tree

where I had separated from Harry and Jack, they going in pursuit of

the elands and I starting out on foot for buffaloes.

Mirogo sent the Kafirs to skin both the buffaloes and bring in the

horns and tongue of the big one and the meat of the yearling. The

Kafirs reported that Harry and Jack had disappeared in pursuit of the

elands; the last seen of them they had crossed a ridge to the south

three or four miles away. I knew they would have a long ride for it,

and if I set out in pursuit it would be a good while before I could

overtake them. Away to the east, half a mile or so, the Kafirs

reported some koodoos, and I thought it would be a good plan to stalk

them. So, leaving Mirogo and Kalil behind, I took my small rifle,

with a beltful of ammunition suited to it, and away I started.

There is an old saying that you do not hunt ducks with a brass band,

and you do not hunt koodoo with a tracker and a gun-bearer. Like all

animals of the antelope kind, the koodoo is very shy and also very

sharp-sighted. To stalk him you must do a great deal of creeping on

the ground, and take advantage of every bush, tree, rock, ant-hill,

or anything else that rises more than six inches from the ground. It

is far easier to approach an elephant than a koodoo; in fact, it is a

complete science to be an accomplished hunter of this animal or any

of his African kindred. One of each herd is generally on the watch,

and they seem to select him for his superior eyesight, hearing, and

powers of smelling. You must study the wind down to a single point

of the compass, take your bearings with the utmost care, and then

creep along very much as a cat creeps after a mouse before she makes

her spring. If the animals see you there is no use following them;

turn right about, go in the contrary direction, and circle around

until you come in on the opposite side, provided the wind will permit

you to do so.

I have heard old hunters say that they were perfectly satisfied if

they got one good chance in a day to shoot a koodoo. Knowing this,

the reader will understand how anxious I was to succeed in my hunt,

and that I was willing to put myself to a great deal of inconvenience

and trouble in the hope of bagging my game.

The ground was quite open where the koodoos were, but within half a

mile of them there was a stretch of scattered bushes. I made for

these bushes till I got around a point that was nearest to the herd

and also was off-wind, and then I began the snake and cat business to

my best abilities. I utilized every little obstruction on the

ground, and when there was none I dragged myself along by means of my

elbows, pushing my gun in front of me and taking care not to get dirt

in the muzzle of it. There were perhaps a dozen koodoos in the herd,

and one fine old buck was posted as sentinel. He kept turning slowly

around, surveying all points of the compass; and whenever his head

was in my direction I lay as still as the ground on which I rested.

When he turned away I slipped forward a length or two, and sometimes,

by great good fortune, half a dozen lengths.

The sun was hot--not only hot, but blazingly so. Whenever my hand

touched the ironwork of my gun it seemed as if it would raise a

blister; and with my back exposed to the rays of the orb of day, I

felt as though I were standing before the furnace of an iron-foundry.

The perspiration poured out of me, and had it not been for my

determination to bag a koodoo I should have abandoned the chase and

gone back to camp.

It was not only the heat that came near breaking me up on that hunt,

but a snake, and a poisonous one at that. As I was dragging myself

along over the ground, imagine my horror at seeing a serpent about

six feet long lying directly in front of me and not more than three

yards away! I came very near springing up and jumping backward,

which of course would have ended the koodoo-hunt then and there; but

I restrained myself. My next thought was to shoot the reptile, but

to do so would have been equally fatal to my sport.

After a moment of thought--and it was only a moment--I adopted the

tactics of the crab, and moved backward. I did not turn around, as I

wanted to keep my face in the direction of his snakeship, who seemed

to be asleep and sunning himself. I backed away three or four yards

and then made a detour around my unpleasant neighbor, sufficiently

far away from him not to disturb his slumbers.

I was afraid of coming on more snakes, but luckily that was the only

one I encountered. He was what is known as a mamba, and is found in

various parts of South Africa. The one I saw was a small one; we

killed a snake of this kind one day under our wagon, and when he was

stretched out on the grass he measured about eleven feet in length.

Mambas of ten or twelve feet are by no means uncommon. Their bite is

poisonous; dogs bitten by them die within an hour or two, and the

same is the case with small animals. Human beings live longer, but

the bite of one of these serpents is almost sure to be fatal. Some

of the native tribes have a superstitious reverence for them, and do

not kill them; but the majority of Africans generally try to despatch

them if they can.

The herd of koodoos gradually fed around in my direction, so that

they were between me and the sentinel. I wanted to bag him, but of

course their position rendered it impossible. I had had my eye on

him for some time, and when the rest of them got around toward where

I was I thought of the Irishman who gave as his excuse for not firing

at a flock of ducks, "Whenever I get a bead on one, another swims

right in between him and me!"

I singled out the best buck of the herd and stalked up to within

forty yards of him. Then, when he presented a good broadside, I let

him have it, and brought him to the ground. He was up almost in an

instant, and so was I; and I gave him another shot, which again

floored him, this time for good. I ran forward and plunged my

hunting-knife into his throat to make sure that he did not escape me.

Of course the others were off like the wind, but I paid no attention

to them; my thirst for glory was satisfied for that day.

The men had been watching me from the tree where I left my horse.

The report of the gun, the smoke, and my handkerchief, which I waved

in the air, brought them, and with them my horse Brickdust, which was

led along at a slow trot by the Kafir who had charge of him. I

mounted and rode to camp, while the Kafirs attended to skinning the

koodoo and bringing in the meat.

Harry and Jack had not reached camp when I got there, and they did

not return until nearly sunset. They had good luck in their chase of

the elands, Harry shooting one and Jack bringing down two. Harry's

was the largest of the three, and consequently he claimed that the

honors were about even. They had a lively chase after them, and by

the time they got through their horses were pretty well used up.

"In two or three places," said Harry, "we came near breaking our

necks in pitfalls that the Kafirs had made for game; and in one

instance if it had not been for the intelligence of my horse I should

have gone headlong into a hole about eight feet deep. The horse saw

the hole before I did, and swerved quickly to one side; if we had

gone full speed into that pitfall I am afraid it would have been all

over with both horse and rider."

These native pitfalls are oftentimes a great nuisance and also a

great danger to the hunter. The natives dig them in localities where

the animals are apt to run, and consequently they are right in the

way which a hunter takes when he is pursuing a herd. Sometimes the

pitfalls are open, and strung along in connection with one another

for a considerable distance. The natives surround a herd on three

sides and then drive it in the direction of the traps. If an animal

tumbles in he cannot get out, and is easily speared or otherwise

slaughtered by his captors.

One day, while I was stalking a herd of gemsbok, I walked plump into

a pitfall that was seven feet deep. The hole had been covered over

with bushes, grass, and a sprinkling of earth, so that it looked for

all the world like the ground in its immediate vicinity. I was

sneaking along, bent nearly to the ground, with my eye on the game

ahead of me, when suddenly I felt the earth give way, and it seemed

as though I was dropping half-way to the other side of the world. I

fetched up at the bottom all in a heap and half stunned. When I

gathered myself up and rubbed my eyes I found that my gun was lying

on the bottom of the pit with the muzzle directly toward me and both

locks at full cock!

My hair had been standing on end when I brought myself up to a

sitting posture; when I saw my gun and its position every individual

hair on my head was frozen stiff!

There was a native kraal not very far from where my friends killed

their elands, and of course the people came out to share in the

spoils. Whenever a hunt of any kind is in progress, if there are any

Kafirs or Zulus about they are sure to come, partly out of curiosity

to see the sport, but more particularly to eat up any trifle of game

that may be left over. It was so in this case. My friends selected

the cuts that they wanted from the animals, and hired some of the

people to bring them to camp. The rest was turned over to the crowd

and disposed of in short order. As a general thing these natives do

not take the trouble to carry the game to their kraals, especially if

they are a long way off, but they build a fire on the spot, sit down,

and begin their feast.

The jackals and hyenas come around and hang about at a respectful

distance, waiting for what is left over. By the time the natives are

through the jackals and hyenas have pretty poor picking, unless the

quantity of game is very large and the number of people small. A

dozen or twenty natives will get away with the best part of a

fair-sized buffalo; after they have eaten their fill they lie down

and rest until there is space for a little more, when they rise and

resume eating.

With the natives of South Africa it is generally a feast or a famine,

and I may also remark that it is very much the same with a hunter:

there are days in camp when his supply of food is more than he knows

what to do with, and these are preceded or followed by days when his

stomach is well-nigh empty, if not entirely so.

After my friends had told their experience of the day I narrated

mine. Something put it into my head to say nothing about my

encounter with amazon No. 2, and so I avoided all allusion to the

subject. I thought I would keep the whole matter to myself until I

had visited the camp of the ladies and made their acquaintance; but

Harry spoiled my game by driving me into a corner where it was

necessary to lie outright or "acknowledge the corn."

"By the way, Frank," said he, as we had finished our stories, "did

you see anything of our neighbors, the women, about whom you told us?"

"Oh yes," I replied, "I was coming to that." (Fact is, I was not

coming to it at all.)

"Well, what about it?" queried Harry. "Did you see either or both of

them, or did you happen on their camp?"

Then I told what the reader knows, though really I told the story

much more briefly than I have elsewhere given it. I merely remarked

that I met the one who called herself Mrs. Roberts, and killed a

buffalo which she had wounded.

"Oho!" said Harry, and Jack said "Oho!" at the same time.

"Well, what's the meaning of 'Oho!' I'd like to know?"

"It means," said Jack, "that you seem to have struck a streak of

luck; in two days you run across both of them and make yourself

agreeable. Did she invite you to call on them?"

"Yes," I answered, "in a civil sort of way; didn't appear as if she

cared whether I called or not."

"Well, probably she didn't," said Harry; "but she couldn't very well

avoid doing so after you'd killed a buffalo for her. One must show a

little appreciation of courtesy even in South Africa. I suppose

you'll call?"

Hunters three: Sport and adventure in South Africa · 第 7 / 30 章