Time, which is ever on the wing, working mighty changes in the affairs
of man, soon transported our hero from Mrs Pry's dingy little back
parlour in London to the luxuriant wilds of Africa.
There, on the evening of a splendid day, he sat down to rest under the
grateful shade of an umbrageous tree, in company with Major Garret and
Lieutenant Wilkins, both of whom had turned out to be men after Tom
Brown's own heart. They were both bronzed strapping warriors, and had
entered those regions not only with a view to hunting lions, but also
for the purpose of making collections of the plants and insects of the
country, the major being a persevering entomologist, while the
lieutenant was enthusiastically botanical. To the delight of these
gentlemen they found that Tom, although not deeply learned on these
subjects, was nevertheless extremely intelligent and appreciative.
The major was very tall, thin; strong, wiry, and black-bearded. The
lieutenant was very short, thickset, deep-chested, and powerful. Tom
himself was burly, ruddy, broad, and rather above middle size.
"Now this is what I call real felicity," observed the major, pulling out
a pipe which he proceeded to fill. Tom Brown followed his example, and
Bob Wilkins, who was not a smoker, and had a somewhat facetious
disposition, amused himself by quizzing his comrades and carving a piece
of wood with his penknife.
"Does the real felicity, major, result from the tobacco or the
surrounding circumstances?" asked Wilkins.
"From both, Bob," replied the other with a smile, "and you need not
spoil my felicity by repeating your well-known set of phrases about the
evils of smoking, for I know them all by heart, and I dare say so does
Tom."
"Impossible," said Wilkins; "I have not yet been two weeks in his
company; he cannot, therefore, have heard a tithe of the irresistible
arguments which I bring to bear on that pernicious practice, and which I
hope some day to throw into shape and give to the public in the form of
a bulky volume."
"Which will end in smoke," interrupted the major.
"In a literal sense, too," added Tom Brown, "for it will be sold as
waste-paper and be made up into matches."
"We shall see," retorted Wilkins, cutting carefully round the right
nostril of a baboon's head which he had carved on the end of a
walking-stick; "meanwhile, major, as you are better acquainted than we
are with this outlandish country, and have taken on yourself the
leadership of the party, will you condescend to give Tom Brown and me
some idea of your intended movements--that is, if smoke and felicity
will permit you to do so?"
"With pleasure, my dear fellow," said the major puffing vigorously for a
few moments to get his pipe well alight. "It was my intention to make
for Big Buffalo's Village, or kraal as they call it here, and, getting
the assistance of some of his sable Majesty's subjects, hunt the country
in his neighbourhood, but I heard from Hicks this morning, before we
left the camp, that a band of traders, at a kraal not far from us, are
about to start for the Zulu country, and it struck me that we might as
well join forces and advance together, for I prefer a large party to a
small one--there is generally more fun to be got out of it."
"Would it be well to tie ourselves to any one?" asked Tom Brown. "I
have always found that a small party is more manageable than a large one
however, I do but throw out the suggestion in all humility."
"He shall not necessarily be tied to them," replied the major,
re-lighting his pipe, which had a bad habit of going out when he talked;
"we may keep company as long as we find it agreeable to do so, and part
when we please. But what say you to the change of plan? I think it
will bring us into a better hunting country."
"Whatever you think best, major, will please me," said Tom, "for I'm
ignorant of everything here and place myself entirely under your
directions."
"And I am agreeable," added Bob Wilkins.
"You are neither agreeable nor grammatical," said the major.
"Well, if you insist on it, I'm agreed. But do put your pipe out, Tom,
and let us resume our march, for we have a long way to go, and much work
to do before reaching the camp to-night."
Thus admonished, Tom Brown made an extinguisher of the end of his
forefinger, put his short clay pipe in his waistcoat pocket, and,
shouldering his rifle, followed his companions into the forest, on the
edge of which they had been resting.
The country through which they passed was extremely beautiful,
particularly in the eyes of our hero, for whom the magnificence of
tropical vegetation never lost its charms. The three sportsmen had that
morning left their baggage, in a wagon drawn by oxen, in charge of Hicks
the trader, who had agreed to allow them to accompany him on a trading
expedition, and to serve them in the capacity of guide and general
servant. They had made a detour through the forest with a party of six
natives, under the guidance of a Caffre servant named Mafuta, and were
well repaid for the time thus spent, by the immense variety of insects
and plants which the naturalists found everywhere. But that which
delighted them most was the animal life with which the whole region
teemed. They saw immense herds of wolves, deer of various kinds,
hyenas, elands, buffalo, and many other wild beasts, besides innumerable
flocks of water-fowl of all kinds. But they passed these unmolested,
having set their hearts that day on securing higher game. As Wilkins
said, "nothing short of a lion, an elephant, a rhinoceros, or
hippopotamus" would satisfy them and that they had some chance of
securing one or more of these formidable brutes was clear, because their
voices had been several times heard, and their footprints had been seen
everywhere.
About an hour after resuming their walk, the major went off in hot
pursuit of an enormous bee, which he saw humming round a bush. About
the same time, Wilkins fell behind to examine one of the numerous plants
that were constantly distracting his attention, so that our hero was
left for a time to hunt alone with the natives. He was walking a
considerable distance in advance of them when he came to a dense thicket
which was black as midnight, and so still that the falling of a leaf
might have been heard. Tom Brown surveyed the thicket quietly for a few
seconds, and observing the marks of some large animal on the ground, he
beckoned to the Caffre who carried his spare double-barrelled gun. Up
to this date our hero had not shot any of the large denizens of the
African wilderness, and now that he was suddenly called upon to face
what he believed to be one of them, he acquitted himself in a way that
might have been expected of a member of the Brown family! He put off
his shoes, cocked his piece, and entered the thicket alone--the natives
declining to enter along with him. Coolly and very quietly he advanced
into the gloomy twilight of the thicket, and as he went he felt as
though all the vivid dreams and fervid imaginings about lions that had
ever passed through his mind from earliest infancy were rushing upon him
in a concentrated essence! Yet there was no outward indication of the
burning thoughts within, save in the sparkle of his dark brown eye, and
the flush of his brown cheek. As he wore a brown shooting-coat, he may
be said to have been at that time Brown all over!
He had proceeded about fifty yards or so when, just as he turned a
winding in the path, he found himself face to face with an old
buffalo-bull, fast asleep, and lying down not ten yards off. To drop on
one knee and level his piece was the work of an instant, but
unfortunately he snapped a dry twig in doing so. The eyes of the huge
brute opened instantly, and he had half risen before the loud report of
the gun rang through the thicket. Leaping up, Tom Brown took advantage
of the smoke to run back a few yards and spring behind a bush, where he
waited to observe the result of his shot. It was more tremendous then
he had expected. A crash on his right told him that another, and
unsuspected, denizen of the thicket had been scared from his lair, while
the one he had fired at was on his legs snuffing the air for his enemy.
Evidently the wind had been favourable, for immediately he made a
dead-set and charged right through the bush behind which our hero was
concealed. Tom leaped on one side; the buffalo-bull turned short round
and made another dash at him. There was only the remnant of the
shattered bush between the two; the buffalo stood for a few seconds
eyeing him furiously, the blood streaming down its face from a
bullet-hole between the two eyes, and its head garnished with a torn
mass of the bush. Again it charged, and again Tom, unable to get a
favourable chance for his second barrel, leaped aside and evaded it with
difficulty. The bush was now trampled down, and scarcely formed a
shadow of a screen between them; nevertheless Tom stood his ground,
hoping to get a shot at the bull's side, and never for a single instant
taking his eye off him. Once more he charged, and again our hero
escaped. He did not venture, however, to stand another, but turned and
fled, closely followed by the infuriated animal.
A few yards in front the path turned at almost right angles. Tom
thought he felt the hot breath of his pursuer on his neck as he doubled
actively round the corner. His enemy could neither diverge from nor
check his onward career; right through a fearfully tangled thicket he
went, and broke into the open beyond, carrying an immense pile of
rubbish on his horns. Tom instantly threw himself on his back in the
thicket to avoid being seen, and hoped that his native followers would
now attract the bull's attention, but not one of them made his
appearance, so he started up, and just as the disappointed animal had
broken away over the plain, going straight from him, he gave him the
second barrel, and hit him high up on the last rib on the off side, in
front of the hip. He threw up his tail, made a tremendous bound in the
air, dashed through bush-thorns so dense and close that it seemed
perfectly marvellous how he managed it, and fell dead within two hundred
yards.
Note. If the reader should desire fuller accounts of such battles, we
recommend to him _African Hunting_, a very interesting work, by W.C.
Baldwin, Esquire, to whom, with Dr Livingstone, Du Chaillu, and others,
I am indebted for most of the information contained in this volume,--
R.M.B.
The moment it fell the natives descended from the different trees in
which they had taken refuge at the commencement of the fray, and were
lavish in their compliments; but Tom, who felt that he had been deserted
in the hour of need, did not receive these very graciously, and there is
no saying how far he might have proceeded in rebuking his followers (for
the Brown family is pugnacious under provocation) had not the major's
voice been heard in the distance, shouting, "Hallo! look out! a buffalo!
where are you, Tom Brown, Wilkins?"
"Hallo!" he added, bursting suddenly into the open where they were
standing, "what's this--a--buffalo? dead! Have 'ee killed him? why, I
saw him alive not two minutes--"
His speech was cut short by a loud roar, as the buffalo he had been in
chase of, scared by the approach of Wilkins, burst through the underwood
and charged down on the whole party. They fled right and left, but as
the brute passed, Wilkins, from the other side of the open, fired at it
and put a ball in just behind the shoulder-blade. It did not fall,
however, and the three hunters ran after it at full speed, Wilkins
leading, Tom Brown next, and the major last. The natives kept well out
of harm's way on either side; not that they were unusually timid
fellows, but they probably felt that where such able hands were at work
it was unnecessary for them to interfere!
As the major went racing clumsily along--for he was what may be called
an ill-jointed man, nevertheless as bold as a lion and a capital shot--
he heard a clatter of hoofs behind him, and, looking over his shoulder,
observed another buffalo in full career behind. He stopped instantly,
took quick aim at the animal's breast, and fired, but apparently without
effect. There chanced to be a forked tree close at hand, to which the
major rushed and scrambled up with amazing rapidity. He was knocked out
of it again quite as quickly by the shock of the tremendous charge made
by the buffalo, which almost split its skull, and rolled over dead at
the tree-root, shot right through the heart.
Meanwhile Tom Brown and the lieutenant had overtaken and killed the
other animal, so that they returned to camp well laden with the best
part of the meat of three buffaloes.
Here, while resting after the toils of the day, beside the roaring
camp-fires, and eating their well-earned supper, Hicks the trader told
them that a native had brought news of a desperate attack by lions on a
kraal not more than a day's journey from where they lay.
"It's not far out o' the road," said Hicks, who was a white man--of what
country no one knew--with a skin so weather-beaten by constant exposure
that it was more like leather than flesh; "if you want some sport in
that way, I'd advise 'ee to go there to-morrow."
"Want some sport in that way!" echoed Wilkins in an excited tone; "why,
what do you suppose we came here for? _Of course_ we'll go there at
once; that is, if my comrades have no objection."
"With all my heart," said the major with a smile as he carefully filled
his beloved pipe.
Tom Brown said nothing; but he smoked his pipe quietly, and nodded his
head gently, and felt a slight but decided swelling of the heart, as he
murmured inwardly to himself, "Yes, I'll have a slap at the lions
to-morrow."