On one occasion Tom Brown went out with the rest of the party on
horseback after some elephants, the tracks of which had been seen the
day before. In the course of the day Tom was separated from his
companions, but being of an easy-going disposition, and having been born
with a thorough belief in the impossibility of anything very serious
happening to him, he was not much alarmed, and continued to follow what
he thought were the tracks of elephants, expecting every moment to fall
in with, or hear shots from his friends.
During the journey Tom had seen the major, who was an old sportsman,
kill several elephants, so that he conceived himself to be quite able
for that duty if it should devolve upon him. He was walking his horse
quietly along a sort of path that skirted a piece of thicket when he
heard a tremendous crashing of trees, and looking up saw a troop of
fifty or sixty elephants dashing away through a grove of mapani-trees.
Tom at once put spurs to his horse, unslung his large-bore
double-barrelled gun, and coming close up to a cow-elephant, sent a ball
into her behind the shoulder. She did not drop, so he gave her another
shot, when she fell heavily to the ground.
At that moment he heard a shot not far off. Immediately afterwards
there was a sound of trampling feet which rapidly increased, and in a
few moments the whole band of elephants came rushing back towards him,
having been turned by the major with a party of natives. Not having
completed the loading of his gun, Tom hastily rode behind a dense bush,
and concealed himself as well as he could. The herd turned aside just
before reaching the bush, and passed him about a hundred yards off with
a tremendous rush, their trunks and tails in the air, and the major and
Wilkins, with a lot of natives and dogs, in full pursuit. Tom was
beginning to regret that he had not fired a long shot at them, when he
heard a crash behind him, and looking back saw a monstrous bull-elephant
making a terrific charge at him. It was a wounded animal, mad with rage
and pain, which had caught sight of him in passing. Almost before he
was aware of its approach it went crashing through the thicket
trumpeting furiously, and tearing down trees, bushes, and everything
before it.
Tom lay forward on the neck of his steed and drove the spurs into him.
Away they went like the wind with the elephant close behind. In his
anxiety Tom cast his eyes too often behind him. Before he could avoid
it he was close on the top of a very steep slope, or stony hill, which
went down about fifty yards to the plain below. To rein up was
impossible, to go down would have been almost certain death to horse and
man. With death before and behind, our hero had no alternative but to
swerve, for the trunk of the huge creature was already almost over the
haunch of his terrified horse. He did swerve. Pulling the horse on his
haunches, and swinging him round at the same moment as if on a pivot, he
made a bound to the left. The elephant passed him with a shriek like
that of a railway engine, stuck out its feet before it, and went sliding
wildly down the slope--as little boys are sometimes wont to do--sending
dust, atones, and rubbish in a stupendous cloud before him. At the foot
he lost his balance, and the last that Tom saw of him was a flourish of
his stumpy tail as he went heels over head to the bottom of the hill.
But he could not stop to see more; his horse was away with him, and fled
over the plain on the wings of terror for a mile in the opposite
direction before he consented to be pulled up.
Tom's companions, meanwhile, had shot two elephants--one a cow, the
other a pretty old calf, and on their way back to camp they killed a
buffalo. The other hunters had been also successful, so that the camp
resounded with noisy demonstrations of joy, and the atmosphere ere long
became redolent of the fumes of roasting meat, while the black bodies of
the natives absolutely glittered with grease.
On summing up the result of the day's work, it was found that they had
bagged six elephants, three elands, two buffaloes, and a variety of
smaller game.
"A good bag," observed the major as he sipped his tea; "but I have seen
better. However, we must rest content. By the way, Pearson, they tell
me you had a narrow escape from a buffalo-bull."
"So I had," replied Pearson, pausing in the midst of a hearty meal that
he was making off a baked elephant's foot; "but for Anson there I
believe it would have been my last hunt."
"How did he help you?" asked Tom Brown.
"Come, tell them, Anson, you know best," said Pearson; "I am too busy
yet to talk."
"Oh, it was simple enough," said Anson with a laugh. "He and I had gone
off together after a small herd of buffaloes; Ogilvie and Brand were
away following up the spoor of an elephant. We came upon the buffaloes
unexpectedly, and at the first shot Pearson dropped one dead--shot
through the heart. We were both on foot, having left our horses behind,
because the ground was too stony for them. After a hard chase of two
hours we came up with the herd. Pearson fired at a young bull and broke
its leg, nevertheless it went off briskly on the remaining three, so I
fired and shot off its tail. This appeared to tickle his fancy, for he
turned at once and charged Pearson, who dropped his gun, sprang into a
thorn-tree and clambered out of reach only just in time to escape the
brute, which grazed his heel in passing. Poor fellow, he got such a
fright--"
"False!" cried Pearson, with his mouth full of meat.
"That he fell off the tree," continued Anson, "and the bull turned to
charge again, so, out of pity for my friend, I stopped him with a bullet
in the chest."
"It was well done, Anson, I'm your debtor for life," said Pearson,
holding out his plate; "just give me a little more of that splendid foot
and you'll increase the debt immeasurably; you see the adventure has not
taken away my appetite."
As he said this a savage growl was heard close to the wagon beside which
they were seated. It was followed by a howl from one of the dogs. They
all sprang up and ran towards the spot whence the sound came, just in
time to see a panther bounding away with one of the dogs. A terrific
yell of rage burst from every one, and each hastily threw something or
other at the bold intruder. Pearson flung his knife and fork at it,
having forgotten to drop those light weapons when he leaped up. The
major hurled after it a heavy mass of firewood. Hardy and Hicks flung
the huge marrow bones with which they happened to be engaged at the
time. Tom Brown swung a large axe after it, and Wilkins, in
desperation, shied his cap at it! But all missed their mark, and the
panther would certainly have carried off his prize had not a very tall
and powerfully-built Caffre, named Mafuta, darted at it an assegai, or
long native spear, which, wounding it slightly, caused it to drop its
prey.
The poor dog was severely hurt about the neck; it recovered, however,
soon afterwards. The same night on which this occurred, one of the oxen
was killed by a lion, but although all the people were more or less on
the alert, the monarch of the woods escaped unpunished.
At an early hour next morning the train of wagons got into motion, and
the hunters went out to their usual occupation.