A TROOP OF LIONS.
“There’s no danger that you will be overburdened with company if you
intend to pass the night at that shooting-hole,” said Bob, with a laugh.
“I know who _won’t_ go. Here’s one.”
“Here’s another,” said George.
“Here’s one who will go,” cried Archie.
“You don’t mean it,” exclaimed George.
“I mean just this: if Eugene is brave enough to stay beside that spring
to-night, I am,” returned Archie.
“So am I,” said Fred.
“Oh, of course,” laughed George. “If one of you three go, you’ll all go.
Well, I shall stay contentedly by the fire, and about the time you hear
the roar of the first lion that is coming to the spring to drink, you’ll
wish yourselves safe beside the fire, too.”
“Do you really mean to go, Eugene?” asked Archie, in a low tone.
“Yes, I do, if you two fellows will go with me. We don’t expect to kill
a lion or even shoot at one, but we’ll have something to brag of. When
we get home we can say we performed a feat that none of the others dared
attempt.”
“How big is one of them critters, anyhow?” asked Dick Lewis. “Is he much
bigger’n a painter?”
“Why a panther wouldn’t make an ear for a lion,” replied Eugene. “Well,
yes, perhaps he would, too,” he added, seeing that the trapper’s eyes
were fastened searchingly upon him; “but he wouldn’t make more than a
half a dozen good mouthfuls. Will you go with us, Dick?”
“Nary time,” exclaimed the trapper, quickly. “A critter that can make
such a bellerin’ as that one did that stormy night a few weeks back, is
something I don’t want to see.”
Our three friends, Archie, Fred, and Eugene, had something to talk about
now—something in which they alone were interested; so they fell back
behind the others, and during the rest of the forenoon were left almost
entirely to themselves. Whether or not they expected to derive any
pleasure from their projected enterprise, other than to be found in
talking about it after it was all over, it is hard to tell. They tried
their best to make themselves and one another believe that they did, and
repeatedly expressed the hope that Uncle Dick would not interpose his
authority, and spoil all their sport by ordering them to stay in the
camp. They expected that he would have something to say about it during
the noon halt, and so he did, but he did not put his veto on the
project. He had done such a thing more than once during his young and
foolish days, he said, and although he could not be easily induced to do
it again, he would not like to sell his experience at any price. It was
going to be a beautiful night for sport. It would be as dark as pitch,
and that was just what they wanted. He hoped that they would bag lions
enough so that each one of the party could have a skin to remind him of
his sojourn in Africa, and of that night in particular. Frank talked
much in the same strain, and added that he thought he had enough
arsenical soap left to preserve a few of the heads of the lions, if the
hunters would cut them off and bring them to the camp. The three friends
were not prepared for this, and they did not know what to make of it.
They had looked for opposition, and instead of that received
encouragement and offers of assistance. They said nothing until the
journey was resumed, and then they fell behind to compare notes.
“Now what do you suppose is in the wind?” asked Eugene, as soon as they
were out of earshot of the rest of the party.
“Let Archie guess; he’s a Yankee,” replied Fred. “There’s something up,
I know, or Uncle Dick and Frank would not have talked as they did. What
is it, Archie?”
“There’s no danger that any lions will come near the spring,” replied
Archie.
“Why, didn’t Mack tell me this morning that the veldt was full of them,
and that he had seen three troops of lions at that very fountain?”
demanded Fred. “That can’t be it. Guess again.”
“They think that when night comes and it begins to grow dark, our
courage will give way, and we will say no more about going out to the
shooting-hole,” said Archie. “Am I any nearer the mark this time?”
“I think you are,” replied Eugene. “That’s the best guess you have made
yet. They may think so—it is probable they do—but they will find that
they are mistaken. Do they imagine that I proposed this thing just to
hear myself talk? They ought to know me better than that.”
The boys having now got it into their heads that their courage was
questioned, were more than ever determined to carry their plans into
execution, provided, of course, that Uncle Dick did not change his mind
before night came. They tried to look very unconcerned when they
announced this decision, and perhaps they felt so just then, for it is
always easy to talk carelessly of danger when the danger itself is far
distant; but as the afternoon began to wane, and the range of hills
toward which they had been journeying all day seemed to approach nearer
and nearer to them, our three hunters began to be a little nervous and
uneasy. Perhaps the actions of their companions had something to do with
this. The Griquas, who had all the day been loitering far in the rear,
suddenly urged their beasts into something resembling a canter, and drew
nearer to the boys, as if for protection; while the trappers, after
exchanging a few words in a hurried undertone, rode up to the head of
the line and joined Uncle Dick and his party. They seemed to feel safer
in the captain’s presence and Frank’s than they did anywhere else. The
Griquas were prompt to follow their example, and thus the rear-guard was
reduced to a mere handful.
Archie and his friends cared nothing for the company of the natives, for
they knew that in case of trouble no dependence was to be placed upon
them; but the hurried flight of the two trappers, who had faced so many
dangers without flinching, had anything but a soothing effect upon them.
They would have been glad to ride up to the head of the line, too, but
that would not look well in three hunters who had announced their
determination to perform an exploit that not another person in the
company was willing to undertake. They staid because their pride
compelled them to do so, and George staid to keep them company.
An hour later the wagon entered the valley. It was a dreary,
lonely-looking place they found when they got fairly into it, and they
did not wonder that travellers hurried through it with all possible
speed. It was about two miles wide, and on both sides arose steep hills,
which were covered with thick forests from base to summit. The surface
of the valley was not a level plain, as they had expected to find it. It
was undulating, and even hilly in some places; and although almost bare
of trees, it was thickly covered with boulders, some the size of a man’s
head, and others as large as the wagon. Among these huge boulders the
road twisted and turned in a way that was quite bewildering, a few of
the bends being so abrupt that in passing around them the leaders of the
team and the wheel oxen were seen moving in opposite directions. What an
ambuscade it would have formed for hostile natives—wild Bushmen, for
instance—and how easily a hungry lion could spring out from behind one
of the boulders beside the road, seize a goat or a man, and jump back
again before a shot could be fired at him! Once safe behind a boulder he
was certain to escape with his booty, for he could spring from one rock
to the cover of a second, and thence to a third, faster than even the
breechloaders could be charged and fired at him. But if there was any
hungry lion in the neighborhood he did not show himself, and the
travellers passed safely through the wilderness of rocks, and finally
drew up in the edge of a little grove, where Mack intended to camp for
the night. Our three friends were on the ground at last.
Archie and his companions did not dismount as the others did, but set
off at once in search of the fountain. The first ox that was freed from
the yoke showed them where it was. Knowing that the animal’s instinct
would direct him aright, they followed in his lead, and presently found
themselves standing on the bank of the spring. It was, perhaps, a
hundred yards away from the wagon.
Travellers on our Western plains, when they camp for the night,
generally take pains to stop close beside a stream of water; but campers
in Africa are obliged to follow a different custom. The springs, which
are few and far apart, are generally found on the bare plain, and
sometimes there is not a stick or bush within miles of them. Sticks and
bushes are necessary, one to keep the fire going, and the other to build
the barricade which is always erected to protect the travellers and
their stock from sudden attacks of wild beasts; so the camp is made in
the nearest piece of woods, the cattle are driven to the spring, and the
traveller brings back enough of the water to make his tea and coffee.
Upon reaching the fountain the boys drew rein and looked about them with
a great deal of interest. They saw before them a body of water about
fifty yards long and half as wide, whose source of supply was in the
limpid spring that bubbled out from the low bank that overhung one side
of it. About twenty-five yards from the edge of the water, and in plain
view of it, was the shooting-hole they were to occupy that night; and
about twenty yards still further back was another bank, ten or twelve
feet high, which completely shut them out from the view of the camp.
The shooting-hole was an excavation about four feet deep and six feet
square. There was not much elbow-room in it for three such restless
fellows as our young friends, but still it would afford them a very
comfortable hiding-place if they could only content themselves with
close quarters for a short time. They had one great objection to it when
they came to look at it, and that was, it was too close to the water.
“Two or three swift bounds would carry a wild beast from the fountain’s
edge right into our very midst,” exclaimed Eugene; “that is, provided,
of course, that one comes here to-night and makes up his mind to pitch
into us.”
“Oh, he’ll come,” shouted Fred, from the other side of the fountain.
“You needn’t borrow any trouble on that score. Come over here.”
The boys went, and, when they had examined the ground on that side of
the spring, told one another that it would be surprising indeed if they
did not have visitors before morning. Wild beasts of some sort came
there to drink every night, and in goodly numbers, too. There could be
no mistake about that, for the shore, which was low on that side of the
spring, was tramped so hard that the hoofs of the thirty oxen made no
impression on it. An experienced and enthusiastic hunter, like the
English colonel of whom they purchased their outfit, would have been
delighted at such a prospect for sport.
Their friends at the camp looked curiously at them when they came back,
but saw no signs of backing out. The three hunters were not only in
earnest, but they were impatient to begin operations, if one might judge
by the way they hurried up the preparations for supper. They ate
heartily of the viands that were set before them, and having satisfied
their appetites and bidden their friends good-by, each boy shouldered
his rifles and a bundle of blankets, and was ready to set out. We say
“rifles,” for each boy carried two. Besides their double-barrels, Fred
and Eugene took their sixteen shooters, and Archie his Maynard. They had
the most faith in their breechloaders, for they were accustomed to them.
Uncle Dick and Frank walked down to the spring with them, and having
seen them snugly stowed away in the shooting-hole, bade them good-night
and returned to the camp.
“I can’t quite understand what makes Uncle Dick act so,” said Eugene,
thoughtfully. “Seems to me that he ought to have raised some objections,
and I don’t see why he didn’t.”
“Perhaps he and Frank are hiding up there behind the bank to keep an eye
on us, and be ready to lend us a hand in case we get into trouble,” said
Fred.
“Well, we don’t want any such backing as that. If they want to take a
hand in this business, let them come in here with us. There’s room
enough for them with tight squeezing. I’ll just satisfy myself on that
point.”
So saying, Eugene jumped out of the hole and ran up the bank. The
campfire was burning brightly in the edge of the grove, and by the light
it threw out the young hunter could see that Uncle Dick and his
companion had just joined the rest of the party, who were busy making
preparations for the night. The native servants, having built a small
inclosure of thorn bushes, were driving the oxen into it and fastening
them in; some of the boys were arranging the beds in the tent; and the
others were tying the horses, which now began to come into the camp one
after another. These intelligent animals never waited to be driven in at
night as the oxen did. Their instinct taught them that the neighborhood
of the campfire was the safest place for them, and thither they went as
soon as it began to grow dark.
Having completed his observations, Eugene joined his companions in the
shooting-hole, and reported that he had seen Uncle Dick go into the
camp, and that he and his two friends were alone in their glory. The
sudden silence that fell on the party when Eugene said this, was
evidence that there was not near as much fun in being alone in their
glory as they thought there was. How plainly they could hear the voices
of the Kaffirs as they shouted at the oxen! And when the oxen were all
driven in and the voices ceased, how still it became all at once, and
how dark, too! They tried hard to shake off their feelings of awe and to
find something to talk about, but both efforts were failures. They could
not converse, for their lowest whispers were wonderfully distinct, and
seemed to them loud enough to frighten away any animal that might be
approaching the fountain. For an hour they remained almost motionless in
their hiding-place, holding their weapons in readiness, and keeping
their gaze directed over the edge of the bank toward the water, and then
Fred gave a sudden start and placed his hand on Archie’s shoulder.
“There’s something there!” he whispered, excitedly.
The others listened, and could distinctly hear a faint lapping sound,
made by some animal in drinking; but he was invisible in the darkness.
They could not obtain the slightest glimpse of him.
“It must be a lion,” whispered Fred. “You know Uncle Dick told us that
he has heard lions drinking within ten yards of him, and couldn’t see
them. They can’t be seen in the dark.”
“But they make a very loud noise in drinking,” said Archie, “and this
animal we can scarcely hear. It must be something else.”
“I can see him now,” said Eugene, as he pushed his double-barrel slowly
and cautiously over the bank. “Be ready to give him a broadside in case
I don’t kill him at the first shot. I am not accustomed to shooting in
the dark, you know.”
The other two could see the animal now, but not plainly enough to
determine what it was. It was moving swiftly on the other side of the
fountain, and the boys thought it was looking directly towards their
hiding-place. It circled around to their right, Eugene following all its
movements with his rifle, and only waiting for it to become stationary
for a moment so that he could make a sure shot, and presently it reached
the top of the bank at the rear of the shooting-hole, and stood out in
bold relief against the sky. Then it got the “wind” of the young
hunters, and, with a whisk of its tail and a toss of its head, it backed
quickly down the hill out of sight, at the same time setting up a chorus
of yelps that awoke the echoes far and near, and made the cold chill
creep all over the boys.
“It’s a sneaking jackal,” exclaimed Fred, in great disgust.
“Yes, and I’d rather see almost anything else,” said Eugene. “Just hear
what a yelping he keeps up! He’ll bring the lions down on us as sure as
the world.”
The boys, being well versed in natural history, were acquainted with the
habits of this animal before they ever saw one, and of late they had had
a little experience with some of his tribe. They knew that the jackal is
a sort of scout for the lion. Whenever he finds any game that he is
afraid to attack himself, he sets up a terrific yelping, and any hungry
lion who may be within hearing of the signal comes up and kills it, the
jackal standing by and looking on until the lordly beast has satisfied
his appetite and gone away, when he makes a meal of what is left. One
day, just before they reached the house of the “surly Boer,” our three
friends, in company with Frank Nelson, were hunting elands along the
route, and in the excitement of the chase they followed them so far away
that it was night before they rode into camp, to which they were
directed by the firing of signal guns. Shortly after it began to grow
dark, and while they were yet five miles from the wagon, they were
discovered by a jackal, which followed them within sight of the
campfire, yelping all the while and trying his best to call the lions to
them. The cunning animal seemed to know what a gun was, for he took care
to keep at a respectful distance from the boys, and whenever one of them
halted and tried to shoot him, he would take to his heels and be out of
sight in a moment.
“There he is,” continued Eugene, as the jackal cautiously raised his
head above the top of the bank and looked down at them; but before the
double-barrel could be brought to bear on him he had dodged back out of
sight.
“Jump up there and shoot him, Archie,” cried Fred. “You are the nearest
to him, and we don’t want that yelping in our ears much longer.”
“No, sir!” exclaimed Archie, drawing himself close into his own corner.
“I wouldn’t go up there for—for—No, sir! Who knows but that he has
called up a lion already?”
“I declare he has,” said Eugene, in a thrilling whisper. “I can see him.
I see two—three. There is a troop of them!”
This startling announcement would have tested the nerves of older and
more experienced hunters than Archie and Fred were; and if what they
heard was enough to set their hearts to beating rapidly, what they saw a
moment later was sufficient to take all the courage out of them. A
single glance showed them that Eugene’s eyes had not deceived him. There
they were in plain sight—a number of tawny animals moving swiftly about
on the opposite bank of the fountain, passing and repassing one another
in their rapid evolutions, crouching close to the ground, and gradually
drawing nearer to the top of the bank where the jackal had disappeared,
probably with the object of getting the “wind” of the boys. Archie tried
to count them; but when he fixed his gaze upon one, two or three more
would pass before it, these would quickly give place to as many more,
and finally Archie became so bewildered and excited that he was ready to
declare that troops of lions were springing up out of the ground before
his very eyes. He thought they showed rather plainly in the dark for
lions, but still there could be no doubt that they were lions. Their
color and their stealthy, crouching movements were enough to settle that
point.
“If they get in here among us, there’ll not be a mouthful apiece for
them, will there?” said Fred.
“They’ll not all get in here,” replied Archie.
“Now that we are cornered, it is a good time to show what we are made
of. I am going to begin shooting.”
Before the words had fairly left his lips Archie’s double-barrel spoke,
and one of the lions sprang into the air, and fell at full length on the
ground. A second received the contents of the other barrel without
falling, and even succeeded in getting away out of sight, although
Archie was certain that the ball from his Maynard, which he caught up as
soon as his double-barrel was empty, must have found a lodgment in his
body somewhere.
While Archie was thus engaged, his two companions were not idle. They
promptly opened on the lions with their own weapons, and without waiting
to see the effect of the bullets from their double-barrels, caught up
their sixteen-shooters, and pumped the shots right and left. The
magazines were emptied in a trice, and then the three hunters hastily
ducked their heads and crouched close behind the walls of their
hiding-place, holding their breath in dread suspense, and waiting for
some of the wounded members of the troop to precipitate themselves into
the shooting-hole. But nothing of the kind happened. All was still
outside. They heard only the beating of their own hearts.
“We must have hit those we killed,” Fred ventured to whisper at last.
“Probably we did,” returned Archie. “We couldn’t have killed them unless
we hit them.”
“I mean we must have killed all we hit and frightened the rest away,”
said Fred. “If there were any wounded ones among them they would have
been in here before this time.”
[Illustration: THE NIGHT IN THE SHOOTING PIT.]
The others were very willing to accept this as the reason why they had
not all been torn in pieces long ago. It put new life and courage into
them, and having pushed a cartridge into their breechloaders, they
raised their heads cautiously above the bank to take a survey of the
scene of the slaughter. They could not see a single lion or hear
anything of one; but they heard something else—a heavy tramping of feet
and a confused murmur of voices. They looked hastily around, and saw a
bright light shining above the bank behind them.
“Uncle Dick’s coming!” cried Fred; and the next moment the old sailor
appeared at the top of the bank, closely followed by the rest of the
party, two of whom carried firebrands in their hands.