"I tell you what, little un," said Emson some mornings later, "I'm going
to start a crest and motto, and I'll take a doubled fist for the crest,
and _Nil desperandum_ for motto."
"And what good will that do you?" said Dyke, hammering away as he knelt
on the sand with the lion's skull held between his knees.
"What good! Why, I shall always have my motto before me--`Never
despair,' and the doubled fist to--"
"To show that you are always ready to punch Kaffir Jack's head," cried
Dyke quickly; and bang went the hammer on the end of the cold chisel the
boy held.
"No," said Emson, laughing--"to denote determination."
"`Inasmuch as to which?' as the Yankee said in his book.--Pincers,
please. Here, what have you done with those pincers, Joe?"
"Haven't touched them. They're underneath you, stupid."
"Oh, ah! so they are," said Dyke; and picking them up, he took careful
hold of one of the lion's tusks, after loosening it with the hammer and
chisel, and dragged it out without having injured the enamel in the
least.
The two sharply-pointed fangs had been extracted from the lower jaw, and
Dyke was busily operating on the skull, which was, like the bones
scattered here and there, picked quite clean, the work of the jackals
and vultures having been finished off by the ants; and as Dyke held up
the third tusk in triumph, his brother took the piece of curved ivory
and turned it over in his hand, while Duke and the horses seemed to be
interested spectators.
"Magnificent specimen of a canine tooth," said Emson thoughtfully.
Dyke laughed.
"I know better than that. It can't be."
"Can't? But it is," replied Emson. "What do you mean?"
"Canine means dog, doesn't it? Dog's teeth can't grow in a big cat.
It's a feline tooth."
"They can grow in human jaws--in yours, for instance. You have four
canine teeth, as the naturalists call them; so why can't they grow in a
lion's?"
"Because it's unnatural," said Dyke, beginning to chip away some of the
jawbone from around the last tusk. "Canine teeth can grow in my jaws,
because you said one day that I was a puppy."
"I say, don't, little un. You're growing too clever, and attempts at
jokes like that don't seem to fit out here in this hungry desert. Mind
what you are about, or you'll spoil the tooth."
"I'm minding; but what did you mean about your _Nil desperandum_?"
"That I'll never despair. When we've tried everything we can out here,
and failed, we'll go back home and settle in London. Something always
turns up, and you're so handy, that we'll start as dentists, and you
shall extract all the teeth."
"All right, Joe. My word! this is a tight one. But people wouldn't
have their teeth taken out with hammer and chisel."
"You could use laughing gas."
"They wouldn't laugh much, gas or no gas," cried Dyke, "if I got hold of
their teeth with the pincers, like this. I say, this is a tough one.
He never had toothache in this. You have a go: your muscles are
stronger than mine."
"No; have another try."
"But it makes me so hot."
"Never mind. Remember my crest and motto--doubled fist for
determination, and `Never despair.'"
"Who's going to despair over a big tooth?" cried Dyke, holding on to the
pincers with both hands, giving a good wrench, and tearing out the tusk.
"That's got him. Phew! it was a job. I say, they'll look well as
curiosities."
"Yes, they're a fine set," said Emson, taking out his little double
glass, and beginning slowly to sweep the plain.
"See anything?" asked Dyke, as he rose to his feet, and put the hammer,
chisel, and pincers in a leather case buckled behind his saddle, and
washed his hands, drily, in sand.
"Not yet."
"Oh, do see something! We must get a buck of some kind to take home
with us."
"Yes, we ought to get something, or Jack will forsake us because we are
starving him; and take away his wife. You'll have to cook then, little
un."
"Won't matter, if there's nothing to cook," said Dyke sharply. "But, I
say, Joe, you do think we are getting on better with the birds? Only
two chicks have died since we took home those eggs."
"Only two," said Emson, rather bitterly. "That's one a week. Easily
calculate how long we shall be in getting to the end of our stock."
"I say, what about your motto? Who's looking on the black side?"
"Guilty, my lord. Come along; jump up. We will have something or
another to take back for a roast."
Dyke sprang upon his horse, the dog gave a joyful bark, and they
cantered off, Dyke placing his rifle on his rein hand, while he
rearranged the tusks in his pocket, to keep them from rattling.
"Which way are we going?" he said.
"Let's try west; we may perhaps see ostriches."
"Oh, don't talk about them," cried Dyke; "I do get so tired of the
wretches. I say, that young cock number two showed fight at me this
morning, and kicked. He just missed my leg."
"What? Oh, you must be careful, old chap. I can't afford to have your
leg broken. But, I say, I had a look at the stores this morning before
we started."
"I saw you, and wondered what you were doing."
"The mealie bag is nearly empty. One of us will have to take the wagon
across to old Morgenstein's and buy stores."
"Why not both go? It would make a change."
"I'll tell you, little un. When we got back, half the birds would be
dead, and the other half all over the veldt."
"Oh, bother those old ostriches! they're always in the way," cried Dyke.
"All right, Joe; I'll stop and mind them, only don't be longer than you
can help."
"I can't see how it can be done in less than ten days, old fellow," said
Emson thoughtfully; "and if the old Boer is away, it may take a
fortnight."
"All right; I won't mind," said Dyke with a sigh. "I'll take care of
the place, and I'm going to try some new plans. There shan't be a
single bird die. I say, oughtn't those young birds to be out by now?"
"I've been expecting them every day for a week," said Emson, rather
dolefully. "But, look here, little un: if you took Jack with you, do
you think you could manage the journey yourself?"
Dyke turned on his horse and looked quite startled.
"There's the driving."
"Jack would drive," said Emson hastily.
"And the inspanning and outspanning."
"Which he could see to."
"And camping out in the wagon alone."
"Yes: you'd want good fires every night; but I can't help it, old
fellow. Only one could go, and you'd be happier with the work and
excitement than you would be moping at the house, all alone, and
watching for me to come back."
"But that would be just as bad for you, Joe; and you'd be thinking that
the lions had got me."
"No, I shouldn't; but I should be trembling for the oxen, my boy.
There, I've made up my mind to send you, and you'll go."
"Oh, I'll go," said Dyke sturdily; "but why not go to Oom Schlagen? it's
twenty miles nearer. He has a much better lot of things and is more
civil than Morgenstern."
"Yes, I know all that, little un," said Emson; "but Morgenstern is
honest. He charges well for his corn and meal, but he'll give you just
measure, and will deal with you as fairly as he would with me. Old
Uncle Schlagen would, as soon as he saw you--a boy--coming alone, set to
work to see if he couldn't rob you of a span of oxen, saying they were
his, and trick you over the stores in every way he could."
"Then I'll go to old Morningstar's."
"You won't mind going?"
"Oh yes, I shall, because it will be so lonely; but I'll go."
"I don't like sending you, little un; and there's another difficulty."
"Oh, never mind that; it's all difficulties out here."
"True; but some are bigger than others."
"Well, what's the big one now?" said Dyke contemptuously, as if he had
grown so hardened that he could face anything.
"Jack," said Emson laconically.
"What! Jack? Yes, he'd better be," cried Dyke. "If he gives me any of
his nonsense, he'll have a rap over the head with the barrel of my gun."
"How much of that is honest pluck, old chap, and how much bunkum?" said
Emson, speaking very seriously.
"I don't know," cried Dyke, colouring; "I don't think there's any bounce
in it, Joe. I meant it honestly."
"But he is a man, and you are a boy."
"Oh yes, he's a man, and he bullies and threatens Tanta Sal, and makes
believe that he is going to spear her, and directly she rushes at him,
he runs. I don't think I should be afraid of Jack."
"Neither do I, little un," cried Emson warmly. "That will do. I was
nervous about this. I felt that he might begin to show off as soon as
you two were away from me, and if he fancied that you were afraid of
him, he would be master to the end of the journey."
"But if it came to a row, Joe, and I was horribly afraid of him, I
wouldn't let him see it. Perhaps I should be, but--Oh no, I wouldn't
let him know."
"That'll do, old fellow," said Emson, looking at his brother proudly.
"You shall go, and I'll take care of the stock and--Here! Look, look!"
This last in a tone of intense excitement, for a herd of zebra seemed
suddenly to have risen out of the ground a couple of miles away, where
nothing had been visible before, the beautifully striped, pony-like
animals frisking and capering about, and pausing from time to time to
browse on the shoots of the sparsely spread bushes. There were hundreds
of them, and the brothers sat watching them for some minutes.
"Not what I should have chosen for food," said Emson at last; "but they
say they are good eating."
"There's something better," said Dyke, pointing. "I know they are
good."
"Yes, we know they are good," said Emson softly, as he slipped out of
the saddle, Dyke following his example, and both sheltered themselves
behind their horses.
"They haven't noticed us," said Emson, after a pause. "Mixed us up with
the zebras, perhaps."
"They're coming nearer. Why, there's quite a herd of them!" cried Dyke
excitedly.
They stood watching a little group of springbok playing about beyond the
herd of zebra--light, graceful little creatures, that now came careering
down toward them, playfully leaping over each other's backs, and proving
again and again the appropriate nature of their name.
And now, as if quite a migration of animals was taking place across the
plain, where for months the brothers had wandered rarely seeing a head,
herd after herd appeared of beautiful deer-like creatures. They came
into sight from the dim distance--graceful antelopes of different kinds,
with straight, curved, or lyre-shaped horns; fierce-looking gnus, with
theirs stumpy and hooked; ugly quaggas; and farthest off of all, but
easily seen from their size, great, well-fed elands, ox-like in girth.
"I never saw anything like this, Joe," said Dyke in a whisper.
"Few people ever have in these days, old fellow," said Emson, as he
feasted his eyes. "This must be like it used to be in the old times
before so much hunting took place. It shows what an enormous tract of
unexplored land there must be off to the north-west."
"And will they stay about here now?"
"What for? To starve? Why, Dyke, lad, there is nothing hardly to keep
one herd. No; I daresay by this time to-morrow there will hardly be a
hoof. They will all have gone off to the north or back to the west. It
is quite a migration."
"I suppose they take us for some kind of six-legged horse, or they would
not come so near."
"At present. Be ready; they may take flight at any moment, and we must
not let our fresh-meat supply get out of range."
"'Tisn't in range yet," said Dyke quietly.
"No, but it soon will be."
"What are you going to shoot at?--the springbok, and then mount and
gallop after them and shoot again, like the Boers do?"
"What! with big antelope about? No, boy; we want our larder filling up
too badly. Look: impalas; and at those grand elands."
"I see them; but they must be a mile away."
"Quite; but they are coming in this direction. Dyke, boy, we must make
up our mind to get one of these."
"But we could never get it home. They're bigger than bullocks."
"Let's shoot one, and then talk of getting it home. What about a span
of oxen and a couple of hurdles! We could drag it back, and it would
make biltong, and so last us for weeks."
"Ugh! Leather!" cried Dyke.
"And give us plenty of fresh meat for present eating, and fat to cook
for months."
"Don't make my mouth water too much, Joe."
"Hush! Be quiet now; move close up to your horse's shoulder, rest your
gun across it, and then you will be better hidden. Are you loaded all
right?"
"Bullet in each barrel."
"That will do. Now mind, if we do get a chance at one, you will aim
just at the shoulder. Try and don't be flurried."
"All right."
"Give him both barrels, so as to make sure. Try and fire when I do."
Dyke nodded, and they waited for fully two hours, during which time
zebras, quaggas, and various kinds of antelopes charged down near them,
startled by the sight of the two curious-looking horses, standing so
patiently there in the middle of the plain, and after halting nervously,
they careered away again, the trampling of their feet sounding like the
rush of a storm.
Again and again the hunters had opportunities for bringing down goodly,
well-fed antelope, when a herd bounded up, wheeled, halted, and stood at
gaze; but there in the background were the great eland, each coming
slowly and cautiously on, as if they had also been surprised by the
aspect of the horses, and were curious to know what manner of creatures
these might be.
Dyke wanted to say "Let's shoot;" but his lips did not part, and he
stood patiently watching at one time, impatiently at another, feeling as
he did that his brother was letting a magnificent chance go by.
Twice over the position was startling, when first a herd of quaggas and
then one of gnus charged down upon them, and Dyke felt that the next
minute he would be trampled under foot by the many squadrons of
wild-eyed, shaggy little creatures. But the horses stood fast,
comforted and encouraged by the presence of their masters, while the
fierce-looking herds halted, stood, stamped, and tossed their heads, and
went off again.
At last, when hundreds upon hundreds of the various antelopes had
passed, the elands were still browsing about, nearly half a mile away,
and seemed not likely to come any nearer. A herd of smaller antelopes
were between them and the hunters, and there appeared to be no
likelihood of their firing a shot.
"I'll give them a few minutes longer, Dyke," whispered Emson, "and then
we must, if they don't come, go after them."
"Wouldn't it be better to pick off a couple of these?" said Dyke softly.
"No; we must have one of those elands. We shall have to ride one down,
and when we get close, leap off and fire. Be ready for when I say
`Mount.'"
Dyke nodded smartly, and waited impatiently for a full quarter of an
hour, during which they had chance after chance at small fry; but the
elands still held aloof.
All at once Emson's voice was heard in a low whisper: "Do you see that
fat young bull with the dark markings on its back and shoulders?"
"Yes."
"That is the one we must ride for.--Ready! Mount, and off."
They sprang into their saddles together, and dashed off to follow the
elands, while at their first movements the whole plain was covered with
the startled herds, one communicating its panic to the other. There was
the rushing noise of a tremendous storm; but Dyke in the excitement saw
nothing, heard nothing, but the elands, which went tearing away in their
long, lumbering gallop, the horses gaining upon them steadily, and the
herd gradually scattering, till the young bull was all alone, closely
followed by the brothers; Emson dexterously riding on the great brute's
near side, and edging it off more and more so as to turn its head in the
direction of Kopfontein; hunting it homeward, so that, if they were
successful at last in shooting it, the poor brute would have been
helping to convey itself part of the way, no trifling advantage with so
weighty a beast.
On and on at a breakneck gallop, the horses stretching out like
greyhounds in the long race; but the eland, long and lumbering as it
was, kept ahead. Its companions were far behind, and the plain, which
so short a time before had been scattered with herds of various animals,
now seemed to have been swept clear once more.
At last the tremendous pace began to tell upon both horses and eland,
while the difficulty of driving it in the required direction grow less.
But all at once, rendered savage by the persistency of the pursuit, the
great antelope turned toward the horses and charged straight at Dyke.
The boy was so much astonished at this sudden and unexpected attack that
he would have been overturned, but for the activity of Breezy, who
wheeled round, gave one bound, and just carried his rider clear.
It was no light matter, and Dyke wondered that, in the sudden twist
given to his loins by the cob's spring round, he had not been unhorsed.
But the eland did not attempt to renew the attack, gathering up its
forces and bearing away for the distant herds, with Duke snapping at its
flank; and the chase was again renewed, with Emson's horse beginning to
lose ground, while Breezy seemed to have been roused to greater effort.
Emson shouted something to Dyke, who was some distance to the left, but
what it was the boy did not hear. He had one idea in his mind, and that
was to secure the game so necessary to their existence, and to this end
he urged his cob on, getting it at last level with the great antelope,
which was a few yards to his right.
It was all a chance, he knew, but Emson was beaten, and the antelope
seemed ready to go on for hours; so, waiting his time, he checked his
speed a little, and let the animal go on while he rode to the other side
and brought it on his left.
There was good reason for the act. He could now let the barrel of his
heavy piece rest upon his left arm, as he held it pistol-wise, and at
last, when well abreast, he levelled it as well as he could, aiming at
the broad shoulder, and fired.
A miss, certainly, and then he galloped on for another hundred yards
before he ventured to draw trigger again, this time watchfully, for fear
of a sudden turn and charge, and not till he was pretty close and
perfectly level.
Breezy was in full stride, and going in the most elastic way in spite of
the long run, but the eland was labouring heavily, as Dyke drew trigger,
felt the sharp, jerking recoil shoot right up his arm to the shoulder;
and then to his astonishment, as he dashed on out of the smoke, he was
alone, and the eland lying fifty yards behind, where it had come down
with a tremendous crash.