A MORNING CALL IN SOUTH AFRICA--LADIES AT HOME--HOW MISS
BOLAND KILLED A LION.
It was decided that we would go in pursuit of a herd of buffaloes
which was reported to be in the locality where I met our amazonian
rivals in the hunting-field. It is hardly necessary to say that the
buffaloes were not the only attraction that drew us in that direction.
We were off in good season after breakfast, and accompanied by the
usual party of followers. We went on horse-back, and--for the
benefit of the buffaloes, of course--we had our clothing carefully
dusted and our hair arranged as much after the style of London or New
York as is possible for a hunter in South African wilds. It may not
make any difference to a buffalo how the person who kills him is
habited and groomed, and up to this time we had given very little
thought to the subject; now our views were materially changed, and
one of my friends suggested that it was a pity we had not brought our
dress suits along.
Our attendants were off a good half-hour ahead of us. We mounted our
horses and followed the same general course that we had taken on our
last buffalo and eland hunt. When we reached the ground where the
buffaloes were said to be, Harry and Jack went in pursuit of them,
while I held my course farther to the westward, where the Kafirs said
the hunting-women were encamped.
The forenoon is not fashionable calling-time in London or New York,
but people are not so particular in South Africa. If one does not
make it too early a forenoon call is just as proper here as an
afternoon one. Of course if it is not convenient to see the caller
when he arrives he can be put off with the polite fiction, "Not at
home," just as easily in one part of the world as in another.
I did not have any card to send in, and when I came in sight of the
camp I sent forward my after-rider to announce that Mr. Manson was
coming. The after-rider went in at a gallop, thus drawing general
attention upon himself and evoking a great deal of noise from several
dogs that belonged to the outfit. It was certainly enough to rouse
the camp and make everybody in it aware that a visitor was
approaching.
When I rode up to the kraal the after-rider informed me that the
ladies were at home and would see me presently. I dismounted and
looked about the kraal while waiting. The camp seemed very well
arranged, and I was obliged to admit to myself that the appearance of
things about it was much more orderly than that of our own. The
kraal was constructed of palisades and large thorn-bushes, the whole
forming a fence about ten feet high, and with an outwork of
thorn-bushes sufficient to deter the approach of the most
enterprising lion or other African beast.
One end of the kraal was fenced off and contained the wagons and
tents; the rest of the space was assigned to the cattle when they
were driven in at night, and also to the huts of the natives who
formed a part of the expedition. The entrance-way was sufficiently
large to admit of free ingress and egress during the daytime; at
night it was securely closed, so that coming in or going out was a
matter of no small moment. Before passage could be obtained the mass
of material blocking the entrance had to be removed, and consequently
it was necessary for every one to be inside the kraal when the gate
was closed for the night.
An intelligent Dutch Boer joined me soon after I dismounted, and
entered into conversation. He was the foreman or manager of the
expedition, and confidentially told me that he had been up-country a
good many times, but never before with women. He said their trip had
been very pleasant thus far and the ladies seemed to be enjoying
themselves. "They haven't killed a great deal of game," said he,
"but much more than I expected they would. Women don't go hunting in
this part of the world," he remarked, "except for antelope and some
other small things; but I've heard they do so sometimes in other
countries."
I made an evasive reply to this remark, which seemed to be put in the
form of an inquiry. While not saying so, I left him to infer that it
was the most ordinary thing in the world for women to go on
hunting-expeditions in the country I came from, and the size of the
game made no difference to the hunters.
Then he told me of some of the difficulties of their march thus far,
and he dwelt on the fact that they had repeatedly been short of fresh
provisions. He did not say for what reason, but I readily guessed
that he meant because his fair employers were not as diligent or
skilful in obtaining game as male hunters usually are. In an African
expedition the hunters are expected to keep a supply of food on hand
by the active use of their weapons, and with the various attendants
attached to the caravan a good deal of shooting is required.
Fifteen or twenty minutes after my arrival a servant came to ask me
to step into the tent, or rather into one of the tents. I followed
him and was ushered into a very comfortable dwelling of canvas, which
evidently served as dining-room, parlor, reception-room, library, and
the like.
Mrs. Roberts was the only occupant of the place, and she greeted me
cordially. A circular table was in the middle of the tent, cut in
halves, so that it could be placed against the center-pole. Four
iron camp-chairs afforded seating-facilities, and some boxes and
trunks around the outer edge of the tent would accommodate others in
case of a rush of visitors. The floor was spread with skins and
rugs, and it was elevated somewhat above the ground outside, in order
to keep off dampness as much as possible. Before entering the tent I
observed that a ditch had been dug around it and a drain led off to
one side--a very wise precaution in South Africa, especially in the
season when rains are not infrequent.
The hostess said that Miss Boland would join us in a few minutes.
"We were intending," said she, "to go on a hunt to-day, but were out
yesterday, and when breakfast was served we concluded to put off our
excursion until afternoon. I am very glad we did so, as it has given
us the pleasure of a call from you."
I bowed my acknowledgments and assured her that my pleasure at their
abandonment of their morning excursion was quite as great as their
own. I added that I hoped they had excellent luck the day before.
"We were not very fortunate yesterday," she replied. "We went out
into the open country in pursuit of elands, koodoo, or anything else
we could find there. I am frank to say that I bagged nothing, while
Miss Boland was fortunate enough to bring down an eland and a
hartbeest. She had a sharp ride for the eland, and stalked the
hartbeest. The ground was very favorable for stalking, and she
approached him with comparative ease. I tried a little stalking at
the same time, but the animals took fright and ran away before I
could get within range. I told you I was not much of a hunter and
that the honors of our expedition belonged to Miss Boland. Here she
comes."
As Miss Boland entered the tent I rose and was cordially greeted.
The manners of the two ladies suggested that they certainly had not
taken offense at my treatment of them at our first meeting in the
forest. They looked far less like hunters than at the time I first
saw them, as their hunting-costumes had been replaced by the morning
wrapper of civilized femininity. I took a sly glance in search of
the powder and other facial adornments which also belong to civilized
life, but could not discover traces of anything of the kind. Their
faces were a ruddy brown, and evidently the women had no fears that
the climate of South Africa would spoil their complexions; in fact,
they were allowing the complexions to take care of themselves, while
enjoying the pleasures of a hunter's life.
We had a general conversation on hunting and other topics, which it
is unnecessary to repeat. In fact, I would find it impossible to
write a verbatim report of what was said during my visit. I was
impressed with the enthusiasm which these women showed for their
semi-wild life, and also with the care they had taken to provide
themselves with as many of the comforts of civilization as it was
possible to bring along. They had a chestful of books, most of them
relating to the country they were in or the sports which attracted
them, and they had not forgotten to bring along a quantity of novels
and miscellaneous matter, such as one does not often find in the
outfit of an African hunter. They offered me several works of
fiction which they were through with, both having read them. I
accepted their offer, as we were short of literature in our camp, and
the books were quickly made into a parcel and handed over to my
after-rider.
I remained there perhaps half an hour. As I rose to go they urged me
to remain longer, just as is always the case in fashionable society,
no matter how much the host may wish for the visitor's departure. I
explained that my companions were hunting buffaloes in the locality
where I had the pleasure of meeting the two ladies, and that they
expected me to join them. This led to my explaining who my
companions were and also to a further explanation as to myself.
"You already know," I said, "that my name is Frank Manson. I am from
New York, and take pride in saying that my father is one of the
prominent citizens of that metropolis of the western world. After my
graduation from college I was taken, into my father's law-office and
expected in due course of time to become his partner and successor.
My health became impaired and it was decided that I should take a
year or two of active outdoor life. I had read the books of Gordon
Cumming, Baldwin, and other South African hunters, and it did not
take me long to make up my mind to visit this part of the world and
take my active outdoor life in pursuit of South African game.
"When I reached the Cape I made the acquaintance of two young men who
had come, the one from London and the other from Glasgow, with the
same objects in view as myself. Jack Delafield is the son of a
wealthy manufacturer in Scotland, and Harry Lawrence is the son of a
London merchant, also reputed wealthy. They are bright, interesting
fellows, and it did not take us long to form a partnership in a
hunting-enterprise. They are my two companions, and we have had a
royal good time together."
Mrs. Roberts said that she would certainly be pleased to meet the
gentlemen, and Miss Boland acquiesced in the suggestion. I observed
that Mrs. Roberts seemed to be in the position of chaperon to the
younger woman; the initiative in everything was taken by the former,
but whether this was accidental or otherwise I was unable to say at
that time.
"Would it please you," I asked, "to visit our camp, on any day and
hour that you choose, where you can see our hunting-outfit and meet
my two companions?"
The ladies looked from one to the other, and I decorously turned my
attention to the opposite side of the tent, so that they could
express approval or disapproval to each other without coming under my
eye. I fastened my gaze on a gun-case, and not only my gaze, but my
hands, whereupon Miss Boland remarked:
"That's my favorite gun--a Winchester. I have two or three other
kinds, but that's the one I prefer above all others and carry more
frequently than any other." Then she stepped forward, deftly opened
the case, and took out the weapon.
It was, as she said, a Winchester, and one of the best of its kind.
I remarked that I was familiar with the gun, as we had four of that
pattern in our outfit. Of course this led to a brief dissertation on
the merits of the Winchester, in which Miss Boland grew quite
enthusiastic over the rapid firing qualities of the weapon.
"I never appreciated the Winchester so much," said she, "as when I
killed my first lion with it. He was a grand old brute, one of the
largest of his race. He had been prowling around the camp at night,
and once, when the moon was bright, I went out determined to shoot
him. We had put a bait out for him just on the edge of a ridge, so
that when the lion came he was between me and the sky. I was about
fifty yards away from him, with this rifle. The first shot did not
bring him, but he gave a terrific roar. Instantly I fired a second
shot, then a third, and then a fourth. The lion fell, and there was
no more disturbance that night. I could not get the men to go out
and see the result of my shot, as they were afraid the mate of the
animal might be about and would seek revenge. The next morning they
were bold enough and went; there was my lion as dead as a door-nail,
and every bullet had told."