Although the lion's roar had been frequently heard by the settlers of
Glen Lynden, some months elapsed before they came into actual conflict
with his majesty. By that time the little colony had taken firm root.
It had also been strengthened by a few families of half-castes or
mulattos.
One morning it was discovered that a horse had been carried off by a
lion, and as his track was clearly traceable into a neighbouring kloof,
the boldest men of the settlement, as well as some Dutchmen who chanced
to be there at the time, were speedily assembled for a regular hunt
after the audacious thief.
It was a great occasion, and some of the men who became noted for
prowess in after years began their career on that day. George Rennie,
who ultimately acquired the title of the Lion-hunter, came to the
rendezvous with a large elephant-gun on his shoulder; also his brother
John, fearless and daring as himself. Then followed the brothers
Diederik and Christian Muller,--frank, free, generous-hearted Dutchmen,
who were already known as among the most intrepid lion-hunters of South
Africa; and Arend Coetzer of Eland's-drift; and Lucas Van Dyk, a tall
dark muscular man of about six feet two, with a bushy black beard, and
an eye like an eagle's, carrying a gun almost as long and unwieldy as
himself; and Slinger, Allie, and Dikkop, their sturdy Hottentot
servants, with Dugal, a half-tamed Bushman, the special charge of Mr
Pringle. These and several others were all armed with gun and spear and
knife.
Soon our friend Sandy Black, who had been summoned from work in his
garden, joined them with a rusty old flint-lock gun. He was followed by
young Rivers, with a double-barrelled percussion of large calibre, and
by Kenneth McTavish, accompanied by his wife and Jessie, both imploring
him earnestly, "not to be rash, and to keep well out of danger!"
"Oh! Kenneth," entreated Mrs M, "_do_ be careful. A lion is _such_ a
fearful thing!"
"My dear, it's _not_ a `thing', it's an _animal_," growled Kenneth,
trying to induce his wife to go home.
"Yes, but it _is_ so dangerous, and only think, if it should get hold of
you--and I _know_ your headstrong courage will make you do something
foolhardy--what is to become of me and Jessie?"
It was evident from the tone of McTavish's reply that he did not care
much what should become of either wife or daughter just then, for he saw
that his male friends were laughing at him, but he was fortunately
relieved by Jerry Goldboy coming up at the moment--with the blunderbuss
on his shoulder--and informing Mrs McTavish that her "pet," a lamb
which had been recently purchased from one of the Tarka boers, was at
large, with two or three hungry dogs looking earnestly at it!
The good lady at once forsook the old goat, and ran back with Jessie to
the rescue of the pet lamb.
"What have 'ee putt i' the 'buss?" asked Sandy Black of Jerry, with a
sly look, as the latter joined the group of hunters.
"Well, d'you know, I ain't quite sure," replied Jerry in some confusion;
"I--I was called out so suddenly that I 'ad scarce time to think."
"Think!" repeated Black; "it doesna tak' muckle time to think hoo to
load a gun, but to be sure _your_ gun is a pecooliar ane."
"Well, you see," returned Jerry, with the troubled look still on his
countenance, "it does require a little consideration, because it would
be useless to load with my ordinary charge of gravel for a lion. Then I
feared to put in large stones, lest they should jam in the barrel an'
bu'st the hold thing. So I collected a lot of hold buttons and a few
nails, besides two or three thimbles, but--"
"Weel," said Black, as his friend paused, "thae sort o' slugs wull at
least gie the lion a peppery sort o' feeling, if naethin' waur."
"Yes, but, d'you see," continued Jerry, "there was a silver tea-spoon on
the table when I made the collection of things, and after I had loaded I
I couldn't find the tea-spoon, and I fear--"
Just at that moment Groot Willem galloped upon the scene and was
received with a hearty cheer.
The Hottentots were now sent on in advance to trace out the "spoor"--in
other words, the track of the lion.
On the way one of the Dutchmen entertained those of the settlers who
were inexperienced with an account of the mode in which lion-hunts
should be conducted. The right way to go to work, he said, was to set
the dogs into the cover and drive the lion into the open, when the whole
band of hunters should march forward together and fire either singly or
in volleys. If he did not fall, but should grow furious and advance
upon his assailants, then they should stand close in a circle and turn
their horses with their heads from the foe, horses being usually much
frightened at the sight of a lion. Some should hold the bridles, while
others should kneel and take careful aim at the approaching enemy, which
would crouch now and then as if to measure his distance and calculate
the power of his spring. When he crouched, that was the time to shoot
him fair in the head. If they should miss, which was not unlikely, or
only wound the lion, and the horses should get frantic with tenor at his
roars, and break loose, there was reason to fear that serious mischief
might follow.
No Red Indian of the backwoods ever followed the "trail" of beast or foe
more unerringly than these Hottentots and mulattos tracked that lion
through brushwood and brake, over grass and gravel, where in many
places, to an unskilled eye, there was no visible mark at all. Their
perseverance was rewarded: they came upon the enemy sooner than had been
expected. At the distance of about a mile from the spot where he had
killed the horse they found him in a straggling thicket.
From this point of vantage he would by no means come out. The dogs were
sent in, and they barked furiously enough, but the lion would not
condescend to show fight. After some hours spent in thus vainly heating
about the bush, George Rennie became impatient and resolved to "storm"
the stronghold! In company with his brother John, and another man named
Ekron, he prepared to enter the thicket where the lion was concealed,
and persuaded three of the mulattos to follow in rear, and be ready to
fire if their assault should prove abortive.
It was of no use that Lucas, Van Dyk, and the Mullers, and other
experienced Dutchmen, tried to dissuade them from their enterprise by
assuring them that it was a ridiculous as well as reckless mode of
attack, and would be almost certainly attended with fatal consequences.
The brothers Rennie, as yet inexperienced, were obstinate. They were
bent on attacking the lion in his den.
While this arrangement was being made the soul of Jerry Goldboy became
unfortunately inflated with a desire to distinguish himself.
Spiritually brave, though physically nervous, he made a sudden resolve
to shoot that lion or die in the attempt! Without uttering a word he
cocked his blunderbuss, and, before any one could prevent him, made a
bold dash into the jungle at a point where the hounds were clamouring
loudest.
"Save us a', the body's gane gyte!" exclaimed Sandy Black, promptly
following. "Come on, freen's, or he's a deed man."
Sandy's impulse was suddenly arrested by a roar from the lion so
tremendous that it appeared to shake the solid earth. Next moment Jerry
beheld a large animal bound with a crash through the brake straight at
him. His heart leaped into his mouth, but he retained sufficient
vitality to present and fire. A wild yell followed, as the animal fell
dead at his feet, and Jerry found that he had lodged the whole
collection of buttons, nails, and miscellaneous articles, along with the
tea-spoon, in the head of the best hound, which had been scared by the
monarch's appalling roar!
It is difficult to say whether laughter or indignant growls were loudest
on the occurrence of this, but it is certain that the brothers Rennie
entered the thicket immediately after, despite the almost angry
remonstrances of the more knowing men, advanced to within about fifteen
paces of the spot where the lion lay crouched among the gnarled roots of
an evergreen bush with a small space of open ground on one side of it.
"Now then, boys," said George Rennie, casting a hasty glance over his
shoulder at the mulatto supports, "steady, and take good aim after we
fire."
He put the elephant gun to his shoulder as he spoke, his brother and
comrade did the same; a triple report followed, and the three heavy
balls, aimed with deadly precision, struck a great block of red stone
behind which the lion was lying.
With a furious growl he shot from his lair like the bolt from a
cross-bow. The mulattos instinctively turned and fled without firing a
shot. The three champions, with empty guns, tumbled over each other in
eager haste to escape the dreaded claws--but in vain, for with one
stroke he dashed John Rennie to the ground, put his paw on him, and
looked round with that dignified air of grandeur which has doubtless
earned for his race the royal title. The scene was at once magnificent,
thrilling, and ludicrous. It was impossible for the other hunters to
fire, because while one man was under the lion's paw the others were
scrambling towards them in such a way as to render an aim impossible.
After gazing at them steadily for a few seconds the lion turned as if in
sovereign contempt, scattered the hounds like a pack of rats, and, with
a majestic bound over bushes upwards of twelve feet high, re-entered the
jungle. With a feeling of indignation at such contemptuous treatment,
George Rennie re-charged his gun in haste, vowing vengeance against the
whole feline race--a vow which he fully redeemed in after years. His
brother John, who was injured to the extent of a scratch on the back and
a severe bruise on the ribs by the rough treatment he had received,
arose and slowly followed his example, and Groot Willem, growling in a
tone that would have done credit to the lion himself, and losing for the
moment the usual wisdom of his countrymen in such encounters, strode
savagely into the jungle, followed by Sandy Black and Jerry, the latter
of whom appeared to labour under a sort of frenzied courage which urged
him on to deeds of desperate valour. At all events he had recharged his
piece of ordnance to the very muzzle with a miscellaneous compound of
sand, stones, and sticks--anything, in short, that would go down its
capacious throat,--and, pushing wildly past Groot Willem, took the lead.
It was perhaps well for these strangely-assorted hunters that the lion
had made up his mind to quit the jungle. A few minutes later he was
seen retreating towards the mountains, and the chase was renewed, with
hounds and Hottentots in full cry. They came up with him in a short
time at bay under a mimosa-tree by the side of a streamlet. He lashed
his tail and growled fiercely as he glared at the dogs, which barked and
yelped round him, though they took good care to keep out of reach of his
claws. While they stirred up his wrath to the boiling point, they at
the same time distracted his attention, so that a party of Hottentots,
getting between him and the mountain side, took up a position on a
precipice which overlooked the spot where he stood at bay. Suddenly the
lion appeared to change his mind. Turning as before, and clearing all
obstacles at a bound, he took refuge in a dense thicket, into which a
heavy fire was poured without any effect. Again George Rennie lost
patience. He descended from the height accompanied by a favourite
little dog, and threw two large stones into the thicket. His challenge
was accepted on the spot. The lion leaped out with a roar, and was on
the point of making another bound, which would certainly have been fatal
to the hunter, but the little dog ran boldly up and barked in his face.
The momentary interruption saved Rennie, who leaped backward, but the
dog was instantly killed with a flashing pat from the royal paw. At the
same moment a volley was fired by the Hottentots from the heights.
Unfortunately the position of Rennie rendered it impossible for the
Mullers or any of the other expert shots to fire.
Whether the volley had taken effect was uncertain, but it at all events
turned the lion from his purpose. He wheeled round, and, abandoning the
bush, took to a piece of open ground, across which the hunters and dogs
followed him up hotly.
The lion now took refuge in a small copse on a slight eminence.
Diederik and Christian Muller were in advance, Groot Willem on his
mighty charger came next. Van Dyk was running neck and neck with Jerry
Goldboy, who flourished the blunderbuss over his head and yelled like a
very demon. It was obvious that he was mad for the time being. The
rest came up in a confused body, many of the men on foot having kept up
with the horsemen.
The Rennies, having by that time become wiser, gave up their reckless
proceedings, and allowed Christian Muller, who was tacitly acknowledged
the leader of the party, to direct. He gave the signal to dismount when
within a short distance of the copse, and ordered the horses to be tied
together as the different riders came up. This was quickly done, and of
course all possibility of retreat was thus cut off. The plan was to
advance in a body up the slope, leaving the horses in charge of the
Hottentots.
The preparations did not take long, but before they were completed a
growl was heard, then a terrific roar, and the lion, who had made up his
mind to act on the offensive, burst from the thicket and bore down on
the party, his eyeballs glaring with rage. Being thus taken by surprise
they were unprepared. His motion was so rapid that no one could take
aim--except, indeed, Jerry, who discharged his piece at the sky, and,
losing his balance, fell back with a wild halloo. Selecting one of the
horses, the lion darted furiously at it. The affrighted animal sprang
forward, and, in so doing, wheeled all the other horses violently round.
The lion missed his aim, but faced about and crouched at a distance of
only ten yards for another spring. It was a terrible moment! While the
monster was meditating on which victim he should leap, Christian Muller
was taking quick but deadly aim. If he should merely wound the brute,
certain death to some one of the party would have been the instantaneous
result. Most of them knew this well.
Knowing also that Muller was cool and sure, they breathlessly awaited
the result. Only three or four seconds were spent in aiming, but
instants become minutes in such a case. Some of the men almost gasped
with anxiety. Another moment, and Christian fired. The under jaw of
the lion dropped, and blood gushed front his mouth. He turned round
with a view to escape, but George Rennie shot him through the spine.
Turning again with a look of vengeance, he attempted to spring, but the
once powerful hind-legs were now paralysed. At the same moment, Groot
Willem, Van Dyk, Sandy Black, and McTavish put balls into different
parts of his body, and a man named Stephanus put an end to his existence
by shooting him through the brain.
It was a furious combat while it lasted, and a noble enemy had been
subdued, for this lion, besides being magnificent of aspect even in
death, measured full twelve feet from the point of his nose to the tip
of his tail.