BUYING AN OUTFIT.
On the afternoon of the same day that land was discovered from the
masthead, the Stranger sailed into the port of Natal. As soon as the
anchor was dropped the gig was called away, and Uncle Dick was rowed
ashore, where he remained so long that the boys began to grow impatient
and uneasy; but finally, to their great relief, they saw him coming back
again, and they saw, too, that there was a trunk in the bow of the boat,
and that a stranger was seated in the stern-sheets beside Uncle Dick—a
tall, gray-headed man, with a weather-beaten face and mutton-chop
whiskers. While they were wondering who he could be, the boat came
alongside, and Uncle Dick and his companion sprang on board. “Mr.
Baldwin,” said the captain, “have this trunk taken into the forecastle,
and give this man a bunk there. Then get under way at once.”
“Under way,” repeated Walter. “What is the matter?”
“Nothing at all,” was the reply. “Come down into the cabin, and I will
tell you what I have done since I went ashore.”
The boys followed, lost in wonder. The order to get under way, when they
had fully expected that the schooner would remain at her present
anchorage for six or eight months, surprised them greatly; but the
captain explained it in a few words.
“While I was ashore I had the good fortune to meet an English colonel
who has just returned from a hunting trip in the interior,” said he. “He
has an outfit that he wants to sell, having no further use for it, and
which is just the thing we want—a span of oxen, a wagon, a dozen
‘salted’ horses, and a whole armory of double-barrelled rifles. If they
suit us we will buy them all in a lump, and that will save us two or
three weeks’ time.”
The boys had read enough to know that a “span” of oxen was six yoke, and
that a “salted” horse was an animal which had had the distemper and been
cured of it. Such horses were hard to find, and it sometimes required
considerable urging, and the display of a good deal of money, to induce
their owners to part with them after they were found, for they were
considered to be proof against the diseases which were so prevalent in
the interior. Many a sportsman had the boys read of, who, when a
thousand miles from the coast and in the midst of a fine hunting
country, had suddenly found himself without a nag to ride, all his
animals having been carried off by the distemper. Had he taken the
precaution to purchase “salted” horses, he would not have been in so
much danger of being placed in this disagreeable situation. True, the
lions might kill his stock, or it might die for want of water; but these
were perils that could oftentimes be averted by a little extra care and
forethought.
“This outfit is at Grahamstown,” continued Uncle Dick, “and we are going
down to take a look at it. This man I brought off with me is a
Scotchman, named McGregor. He used to be a transport-rider.”
“What is a transport-rider, and where is Grahamstown?” asked Eugene.
“Grahamstown is a few miles farther down the coast, and the point from
which the most of the trading expeditions start for the interior. It is
to Cape Colony what St. Joe and Independence used to be to our own
country. A transport-rider is a teamster, who makes a business of
carrying goods from one settlement to another. This man, McGregor, made
a little money in that way, then went to trading and lost his last cent.
It wouldn’t surprise me much if we should sink all the capital we put
into the business, either,” said Uncle Dick, with a cheerful wink at the
Club.
“How did he lose his money?” asked George.
“He lost the cattle he received in exchange for his merchandise,”
answered Uncle Dick. “One drove died of thirst while crossing the
desert, and the other was stolen by the natives, who came very near
making an end of McGregor at the same time.”
“Why do you think you will lose your money?” asked Walter.
“Oh, because there’s trouble brewing between the Dutch farmers, who are
called Boers, and their sworn enemies, the Griquas; and when they get at
swords’ points, as they do about twice every year, they make it very
unpleasant for travellers, and especially for traders. They are so
cowardly that they seldom come to blows, but if they catch a stranger in
their country, he is almost sure to suffer. Each side is afraid that he
will lend aid and comfort to the other, and consequently both treat him
as an enemy. If he passes through the country of the Griquas, they
think, or pretend to think, that he has been selling munitions of war to
the Boers, and straightway rob him of all he has; and if the Boers find
any extra guns in his wagon, or more powder than the law allows, they
accuse him of selling contraband articles to their enemies, and
confiscate what he has left. We have come at the wrong time, and in that
respect we are unfortunate. In other ways I think we are very lucky. We
are lucky in finding this outfit, and in securing the services of
McGregor. He knows the country thoroughly, and is capable of acting as
interpreter. Having been a trader, he is experienced, and so we will
give the management of our expedition entirely into his hands.”
“So we’re bound to be fleeced by one side or the other, are we?” said
Walter.
“It looks that way now. Shall we give up the journey and go home?”
“No, sir!” cried all the boys at once.
“We have come so far around the world on purpose to see something of
life in Africa,” exclaimed Eugene. “It was in our minds when we started,
and we have abandoned other plans we have laid in order that we might
carry out this part of our programme. It would be a pretty thing now if
we should be frightened away by a few negroes and Dutchmen.”
“Hear! hear!” cried the rest of the Club.
“All right. We’ll go on,” said Uncle Dick.
And they did go on. They reached Grahamstown early the next morning, and
McGregor (the boys had become familiar enough with him by this time to
call him “Mack”) struck a bargain with the English colonel’s agent in
less than an hour after he got ashore. The outfit he purchased comprised
everything our travellers could possibly need during their journey
except provisions, merchandise, and ammunition. It comprised a good many
things, too, for which they did not think they should find any use, and
some which they thought were entirely unnecessary, such as camp-stools,
easy-chairs, mattresses, and a carpet to cover the floor of the tent in
which the colonel and his companions had lived like princes. The boys
laughed when they saw these things, and told one another that no one but
a very wealthy man could be a hunter if English notions were carried
out. They had spent months on the prairie with no more luggage than they
could carry on their backs, and they had lived well, too, and enjoyed
themselves.
“The colonel ought to have had just one more thing, and then he would
have been very comfortably fixed,” said Archie; “that is a bath-tub.”
“Just look here!” cried Frank, as he drew one of the double-barrelled
rifles from its holster. “There’s no one in our party who can use this
weapon. It was made for a giant.”
It was an elephant gun, the first the boys had ever seen, and it was a
great curiosity to them. It was so heavy that when Frank raised it to
his shoulders and glanced along the barrels, it required the outlay of
all his strength to hold it steady. His little Maynard, which weighed
just eight pounds and was warranted to throw a ball a thousand yards,
would have looked like a pop-gun beside it.
The guns were not the only things in their new outfit that the boys
found to wonder at. The wagon, and the oxen that were to draw it during
a four or five months’ journey, if they should be fortunate enough to
escape the lions so long, demanded a good share of their attention. The
wagon was a huge, clumsy-looking affair—the largest thing the boys had
ever seen mounted on wheels. It was eighteen feet long, four feet wide,
and looked heavy enough to tax the strength of the oxen even when there
was nothing in it. It was provided with a cover, like the wagon in which
Frank and his cousin made their first journey across the plains, but it
was not made of canvas. It was made of green boughs fastened together
with strips of rawhide. It was furnished with two water-tanks, four
boxes in which to carry tools and clothing, and there was still space
enough left in the body of the wagon to accommodate an ample supply of
provisions, and also a good-sized cargo of merchandise.
The oxen that were to draw this unwieldy vehicle were tall, gaunt,
wiry-looking beasts, with wide-spreading horns. They reminded the
cousins of the half-wild cattle they had seen in their uncle’s ranche in
California.
The horses too needed a good looking over. At first glance they were
anything but pleased with them, and they expressed great astonishment
that the English colonel, who had spent money so lavishly on other
portions of his outfit, should have been content with such sorry-looking
beasts. There were but two handsome ones in the lot. The rest, to quote
from Archie, looked like the “breaking up of a hard winter,” and the
sight of them made the boys wish for the sleek, well-conditioned riding
nags they had left at home. But they proved themselves capable of good
service, and after two of them, the homeliest and most vicious horses in
the group, had carried their riders safely through an ambuscade, as they
did a few weeks later, nothing more was said about their looks.
This part of their outfit having been purchased, the next thing was to
lay in a supply of provisions and ammunition, and also a stock of goods
suitable for barter. Here Mack proved himself to be an invaluable
assistant. He knew just what to take and what to leave behind, and he
showed as much skill in loading the wagon as any sailor would have
showed in stowing away the cargo of his vessel. The boys were as
surprised at the quantity of goods he put into it as they were at the
great variety of articles he selected. For the Boers, with whom Uncle
Dick intended to trade for cattle, he had everything, from a piece of
thread with which to mend a harness, to a gaudy handkerchief for the
fraus to tie around their necks. For the Griquas he laid in a supply of
beads, brass and copper wire, and cheap smooth-bore guns, all of which
were to be exchanged for ivory.
While Mack was employed in this way the rest of the party were not idle.
The horses and guns were to be distributed, and there were servants to
be engaged. We have said that there were two desirable animals among the
horses, and there were also among the weapons some light handy pieces,
which the boys would have selected in preference to any of the others.
Of course all could not be exactly suited, and in order to give every
one a fair opportunity to secure the best, it was decided to dispose of
the horses and guns by lot. The colonel’s own riding mare and his
favorite double-barrel, both of which were pointed out by the agent of
whom the outfit was purchased, were first set aside for Uncle Dick.
Those that were left were then numbered, and corresponding numbers being
placed in Walter Gaylord’s hat, each boy drew out one, and became
temporary owner of the steed and the rifle whose number agreed with his
own. Frank drew number three; and on hunting up his property, found that
the charger which bore that number on a card tied to his foretop, was a
long-legged, raw-boned animal, and the most vicious one in the whole
drove. He welcomed his new master by laying back his ears and making a
savage bite at his hand. When he came to examine the weapons, he found
that number three rifle was the mass of wood and iron which he had
declared to be heavy enough for a giant. He had the worst luck of all;
and the boys laughed heartily at the wry faces he made, and more
heartily still at the antics of Archie Winters, who paraded past his
cousin mounted on a high-stepping thoroughbred, and carrying a handsome
silver-mounted rifle, both of which had fallen to his lot.
“Now here’s what I call a horse,” cried Archie, patting the sleek neck
of the animal he bestrode. “He doesn’t look much like your old crowbait,
does he? I say, Frank, I don’t believe I’d go, if I were in your place.
You can’t possibly keep up with us, and neither can you shoot anything;
for it will take so long to raise that killdeer to your shoulder, that
all the game within range will have plenty of time to get safely out of
sight. Here’s a rifle, if you want to look at one. Just lift it, and see
how nicely it is balanced.”
But Frank said he didn’t care to examine it—he was very well satisfied
with his own. He took charge of his property in a quiet, indifferent
sort of way, that had a volume of meaning in it. He resolved that his
“crowbait” and “killdeer” should become famous before the journey was
ended.
The servants, of whom Uncle Dick was in search, were soon forthcoming in
the shape of four stalwart Kaffirs, who had accompanied English
sportsmen on expeditions similar to this, and understood the duties
required of them; but the sequel proved that they were lacking in some
very necessary qualities. The letter of recommendation that one of them
proudly presented to Uncle Dick would have applied to them all. It was
from his last employer, and read as follows:
“This man is a good cook, but he is a fearful twister of the truth, and
a most expert thief. Take him, if you like a good cup of coffee in the
morning, but never take your eyes from him; if you do, he will be
missing some fine day, and so will your best horse and gun.”
Uncle Dick engaged the Kaffir, but took care to post the boys, and his
head man, Mack, in order that they might keep watch of him.
At last Mack announced that all the arrangements had been made, and he
was ready to “trek”—that is, to begin the journey. This was followed by
an order from Uncle Dick to “inspan” (oxen are not “yoked” or “unyoked”
in Africa—they are “inspanned” and “outspanned”), and that occupied the
best part of the forenoon. In the first place the oxen had to be brought
in from the neighboring hills, where they had been driven to graze, and,
of course, some of them had strayed away, and had to be hunted up, while
others, preferring the freedom of the pasture to labor under the yoke,
didn’t want to be driven to camp. The training Frank and Archie had
received while living in California came into play here, and the latter
showed that he had not yet lost his skill with the lasso, by capturing
an obstinate brute which had repeatedly dodged Eugene and Featherweight,
and seemed determined to follow every road except the one that led
toward the wagon. When the oxen were brought in they were surrounded to
keep them from running away again, and after a good deal of breath had
been expended in shouting and scolding, and a bushel or two of stones
had been thrown, and the hair had been cut from some of the most unruly
ones by the heavy whip which Mack handled as if it had been a feather,
the inspanning was completed and the journey begun. The wagon went
first, driven by Mack; behind it followed half a dozen cows, twice as
many goats, and three loose horses; while the boys and the trappers
brought up the rear, and rode on the flanks of the train to keep these
extra animals from straying away. The cows and goats were expected to
furnish the travellers with milk until they reached the Griqua country,
when they were to be exchanged for ivory. The horses were to mount any
member of the party who might be so unfortunate as to injure or lose his
own nag.
During the first six weeks nothing happened that is of sufficient
interest to be recorded here. The weather for the most part was
pleasant, the roads much better than they had expected to find them, and
Mack often declared that they were making wonderful headway. Nothing had
yet been done in the way of trading, for they were too close to the
settlements. Mack was gradually drawing away from the travelled routes,
in order to reach a colony of Boers who had located their farms on the
very borders of the Griqua country. Cattle were plenty and cheap there,
and consequently good bargains could be made. The country through which
they were travelling showed some few signs of civilization. Once or
twice each week they met a transport rider, and about as often they
would encounter a few Boers going to or returning from some remote
settlement. About as often, too, they would make their camp near the
house of some farmer, who in the evening would come over and drink tea
with Uncle Dick. All these Boers talked of was the impending war with
the natives, and every one of them urged Uncle Dick to turn aside and
give the Griqua country a wide berth.
The boys often told one another that if any people in the world ought to
be supremely happy it was these same Boers. They owned or controlled
immense farms on which horses and cattle, which constituted their sole
wealth, were raised with scarcely any trouble at all; their tables were
abundantly supplied; they seemed to possess everything in the way of
household comforts that any people with their simple habits could ask
for; and they lived in the midst of a hunting country which far
surpassed anything the boys had ever dreamed of. One of these Boers
could get up any morning in the week, take his old “roer” down from the
pegs at the head of his bed, and knock over an eland or a springbok for
breakfast, and that too without going any farther than the threshold of
his own door. There were antelopes, large and small, zebras, quaggas,
and buffaloes without number. Time and again had the boys been awakened
from their morning nap by the clatter of countless hoofs, and hurried
out of their tents to find the plain covered with these animals as far
as their eyes could reach. Such sights drove the trappers almost wild
with excitement. They reminded them of the glorious sport they had
enjoyed among the noble game of their own country, the buffaloes, which,
like the class of men to which Dick and Bob belonged, are fast becoming
extinct. Of course the boys had ample opportunity to try the speed of
their horses and the accuracy of their new weapons. The wagon did not
halt a single day to give them a chance to hunt, for theirs was a
trading, not a hunting expedition; but they scoured the country for
miles on each side of the route, and already large quantities of
something which Mack called “bell-tongue,” but which the boys called
“jerked meat,” was packed away in the wagon for use in the days when
game was not quite so plenty.
The place where this good hunting was found was in the uninhabited
region lying between the borders of the colony and the remote Dutch
settlement toward which Mack was directing his course. As they
approached the opposite side of it, the game decreased in numbers, until
finally an exceedingly wild springbok would be the only animal the boys
could find in a day’s hard riding. This was a sign that the settlement
was near at hand. Their trading begun now, and trouble followed close on
the heels of it.