DANGERS OF THE CHASE
The party took full advantage of their further delay the following day,
and a fairly successful bag was made.
In the afternoon all the farmers who could manage to get away from the
cares of their folds joined them. Each of the visitors had one or more
guides, some of the junior farmers acting as such, so as to prevent any
more straying or getting lost. A point was agreed upon where all would
meet at a certain hour to compare notes.
The programme was carried out in full. They all met, and after a rest
had been taken, and success or non-success had been communicated, they
all left together to return to the camp.
Suddenly they came upon two men lying under a tree. At a distance they
took it to be two men sleeping in the veld, but on approaching it
was seen that they were lying in too uncomfortable a position to be
sleeping.
An investigation was made, when it was found that they were dead.
It was an old man of about fifty years of age and a young man of about
twenty years. There was a family resemblance, which hardly left a doubt
of their being father and son.
‘How can this have happened?’ remarked an old man, closely examining
the corpses. ‘It can hardly be murder, as I find no wound in them; it
might rather be poison, for see how discoloured their faces look. What
could they have been eating to poison themselves?’
‘They have been eating kambaroo, father,’ said a young man. ‘See, there
is half a bulb lying next to them.’
‘That is not kambaroo,’ returned the old man, examining the bulb. ‘This
is a poisonous bulb. Nobody who knows kambaroo would eat this bulb for
it. The poor fellows must have heard of it, or known it very slightly,
to make such a sad mistake. I wonder who they are!’
‘I know them, father.’ said the young man. ‘I found the nine sheep we
lost last week at their tent. The sheep had got mixed with theirs in
the veld. They are strangers from the high veld, and nobody knows them
here. Their tent is about an hour’s ride on horseback from here.’
‘Poor fellows, I am very sorry for them and their families. Koos, you
and Jan go and span in the cart and take them to their tent; and let
the _veld cornet_ know. If you can do anything for the poor families,
do so, and if necessary, you can stay there till to-morrow and assist
to get ready for the funeral. We shall all come over to-morrow to see
what can be done to help the widow and orphans.’
This was done, and the party returned to the tents saddened at the
sight; and the old patriarchs took the opportunity to point out to the
younger men how transient and uncertain life is, and that it behoved
them to be prepared at all times to meet their God.
Supper was partaken of silently and soberly. At the usual evening
service, which few of our genuine old Boers ever omit, an earnest
prayer was offered up for those who had that day been made fatherless
and husbandless.
After supper, when sitting round the fire, smoking, and drinking
coffee, the spirits of the party seemed to rise sufficiently for Steve
to remind Oom Frans of his interrupted story of the night before.
‘I do not mind telling you the story, Stephaans,’ replied the old man,
‘but remember we must have no unseemly hilarity after having met death
face to face only a few hours ago.
‘Well, as I said, it is now many years ago, when one night the lions
attacked our camp and carried away a full-grown bullock. The next day
we went in search of them. The grass was very high, and we did not see
them until we came right upon them. There were eight of them. I was in
front of our party, and when I sighted the lions, their leader was in
the act of springing towards me. I fired at him as he jumped, and it
turned out afterwards that it was a most lucky shot, as I had shot his
lower jaw bone away. But the shot did not stop his tremendous spring,
and he came down on top of me. I can tell you I have seen some heavy
bullocks in my time, but I felt, as I lay under that lion, that he must
weigh more than any two bullocks put together; he felt so awfully heavy
as he lay on me full weight, as if he meant to crush me for disabling
his biting instrument. But I did not know then that I had shot his jaw
away, so I expected every moment to feel his dreadful teeth closing in
on my flesh. But I felt glad when I heard several shots, and the lion
rolled off me in his death agony. Thank God that his jaw _was_ shot
away. We shot all eight of those lions that day; and our cattle had
peaceful nights for a long time after.’
‘A lion may be dangerous, especially when wounded or hungry,’ said Oom
Koos, another member of the community. ‘But you have always at least a
chance of disabling a lion when he is charging you. The most dangerous
animal, however, when infuriated, is a black rhinoceros. There is no
stopping the direct charge of a black rhinoceros. The most accurate
shot from the front hardly affects him; and woe betide the man who is
charged by him, even a horse can scarcely keep away from him in the
bush.
‘I saw a black rhinoceros once kill a man. We were tracking the
rhinoceros in the bush, and had separated for the chase, when suddenly
I heard a rushing sound in the bush near by, and a cry for help. I ran
as fast as I could towards the spot, and from behind a stout tree, I
saw the maddened animal actually dancing on his victim. Poor Neef Piet,
he was almost too shattered and soft to pick up for burial; he had a
sad death. I shot the beast dead, but too late.’
‘It is true a black rhinoceros is dangerous when wounded, or out of
temper,’ said Oom Hendrik, ‘and a wounded or hungry lion is to be
avoided. It is also a fact that a tiger is to be dreaded more than the
last two, for he is agile and quick, and no coward like the lion. I
will bet that the President will never stare a tiger out of face; for
he gives no time, he simply charges right out, and almost before you
see him. But even a tiger will hardly attack a man after he has once
sprung at him and missed, unless wounded, in which case--look out. I
have more than once fallen down flat when a tiger sprang at me, when he
would go right over me, and then he will just run on, and never think
of renewing his attack. But even this trick requires skill and very
quick movement. I once saw a Hottentot perform this trick. He was not
quick enough. The tiger caught hold of him with his claws, just above
the eyebrows, as he ducked, and tore his scalp right over his head, so
that it hung like a cap behind him. We re-covered his bald pate with
the scalp, and sewed it on, after which it grew on splendidly, leaving
just a slight mark where it had been torn.
‘Well, I say these animals are all dangerous; but I always managed
to escape them safe and sound in my wanderings and different hunting
trips, either by killing them, or managing to discourage them from
following me, or avoiding them somehow.
‘But has any one of you ever been chased by a wounded wildebeest? I
have been; and you may believe me, I would rather face any living
creature on earth than a beast like that again. It happened in this
way. We had sighted a troop of wildebeest one afternoon early. There
were four of us. We rode down upon them and fired. I had killed one of
them, when I saw a fine bull with the best pair of horns I had ever
seen on the head of a wildebeest before. I desired those horns, and
when the herd separated, I followed this particular bull. The rest
of the party each followed a beast of his choice, thus we were soon
separated.
‘I had not followed my fine bull long when I got a chance for a shot,
and wounded him. It was a bad shot. I had wounded him in the shoulder,
just sufficiently to draw blood without disabling him in the least. I
rode off to one side so as to avoid the charge which I knew would come.
I looked back, and saw the bull was in full chase of me. I realised my
danger. It was not the first time I had shot wildebeest. I put my horse
to the highest pace I dared amongst the bushes and trees, but the bull
seemed to be able to turn much quicker amongst the trees than my horse
could. I saw my only chance was to make for the open country. I did so,
and when I had once gained the open veld I soon gained upon my pursuer.
I congratulated myself upon being now safe, and was thinking it time
to halt again and take a shot at the bull, who was coming on at full
speed, two hundred yards behind--for a wildebeest _never_ gives up a
chase while his enemy is still in sight once he has his temper up--when
my horse trod in a hole, and threw me over his head as he fell. I fell,
but was uninjured. I ran towards the horse to try and pick him up, as
he still struggled on the ground, lying upon his left side, when I saw
at a glance that his leg was broken. My gun had flown out of hand, and
I could not see it anywhere as the grass was rather tall.
‘What to do now? Not a tree near, and the bull was only seventy yards
away. I could see his blazing eyes as he came on towards me. His
horns, which had tempted me so, seemed poised ready to toss me up
into the air, as only a wildebeest knows how. At this moment I saw a
porcupine hole not far away. It seemed large enough to hold me, and,
even though it was not deep, it would suffice, so long as I could keep
out of reach of those terrible horns. I sprang towards the hole and
crept into it. It was just large enough for me to lie in it, with my
head pressed into a hole a little deeper at one end and my feet into a
similar one at the other end. The hole seemed to have been originally
two holes, with the intervening wall broken down, but not so deep as
the two original holes. Into these two holes I hung with my head and
feet, while my body was resting on the wall between, which was broken
down just deep enough to leave my body slightly below the surface of
the surrounding ground. The wildebeest bull was on me. I heard him
snorting and tramping about where my horse was lying, and by the fall
of a heavy body which I heard, I judged that he had completed the ruin
of my hunting horse by tossing him. Now I heard him come towards me. I
felt his hot breath on my back. What will he do now? I knew I was out
of reach of his horns. Will he have sense enough to tread on me, and
thus revenge himself by breaking my back? No; he knew a trick worth
two of that it seemed. What do you think he did? He started licking me.
Any harm in that? Have you ever seen the tongue of a wildebeest? It is
as rough as a rasp, and as hard as a horn. At first I did not think
much of his scratching my back with his horny tongue, but he had soon
worn through my shirt, which was the only upper garment I had on at the
time. Oh Lord! what a sensation it was when first his tongue reached my
bare body; it was terrible. But you can easily feel what it was like by
taking a coarse rasp and rasping your bare body. My God, I shall never
forget that quarter-of-an-hour’s torture I endured that day. It felt as
if he was tearing pieces of flesh out of my bare back. Soon the blood
was streaming down my sides, and the blood seemed to make him madder
than ever. Every time he tore his tongue through my lacerated flesh a
shiver of horror and pain passed through my body. I prayed to God as I
had never prayed before to let me die. When the horror and pain became
too much for me to bear, I fainted. If I had not fainted I suppose I
would either have died or gone mad. When I came to myself I was lying
on my side; somebody was pouring water over me and down my throat. My
companions had looked for me, had discovered my horse and the maddened
bull, and shot the latter. They found me in the hole where the bull had
been standing engaged in his fiendish work. They thought I was dead.
But I recovered, and lived to dread the sight of a wildebeest. I have
the horns of that brute still to-day at home. I have been offered £15
for them as they are such a splendid pair, but I will never sell them,
and I will never risk a single-handed fight with a wildebeest bull
again.’
Steve and his companions felt their hair almost stand on end as they
listened to the horrible tale.
‘You were one of our party that day, _Neef Frederick_,’ said the old
man, turning to a companion. ‘Have I spoken the truth?’
‘That you have, Neef; I could take my oath on it,’ was the reply.
‘And what is more, I one day saw my uncle killed by just such another
wildebeest. We also had a chase after an old bull. We were three. We
shot and wounded him. He turned and stood at bay, and chased my poor
old uncle, and as he was in a line with my uncle from us we dared not
fire for fear of hitting my uncle. In a moment he came up to the old
man, as his horse was not very good, and rather slow. He caught the
horse with his horn between the hind legs, and tossed him forwards,
hind legs in the air. As the horse was tossed forward my uncle
dropped backwards, and was caught upon the horn of the bull. The horn
penetrated just under his chin, in an upward direction, passing out on
the top of his head. When we came up we shot the bull. But my uncle was
a dead man!’
After a little further conversation on the peculiarities of game and
their habits, the party broke up, and all retired to bed.