Mr. Cumming, whose adventures we have already found so entertaining,
had a method of hunting for wild beasts, and especially lions, which
was quite curious. He dug holes near the fountains or streams, where
the animals were accustomed to resort at night for water, and
concealed himself and his companions in them, to wait for their
approach. The following is a specimen of this kind of adventure.
On the afternoon of the 4th I deepened my hole and watched the water.
As the sun went down two graceful springboks and a herd of pallah came
and drank, when I shot the best pallah in the troop. At night I
watched the water with Kleinboy: very soon a cow black rhinoceros came
and drank, and got off for the present with two balls in her. A little
afterwards two black rhinoceroses and two white ones came to the
waterside. We both fired together at the finest of the two black
rhinoceroses; she ran three hundred yards, and fell dead. Soon after
this the other black rhinoceros came up again and stood at the
waterside; I gave her one ball after the shoulder; she ran a hundred
yards and fell dead. In half an hour a third old borele appeared, and,
having inspected the two dead ones, he came up to the waterside. We
fired together; he ran two hundred yards and fell dead. I felt
satisfied with our success, and gave it up for the night.
By the following evening the natives had cleared away the greater part
of the two rhinoceroses which lay right in the way of the game
approaching the water; I, however, enforced their leaving the third
rhinoceros, which had fallen on the bare rising ground, almost
opposite to my hiding-place, in the hope of attracting a lion, as I
intended to watch the water at night. Soon after the twilight had died
away, I went down to my hole with Kleinboy and two natives, who lay
concealed in another hole, with Wolf and Boxer ready to slip, in the
event of wounding a lion.
On reaching the water I looked towards the carcase of the rhinoceros,
and, to my astonishment, I beheld the ground alive with large
creatures, as though a troop of zebras were approaching the fountain
to drink. Kleinboy remarked to me that a troop of zebras were standing
on the height. I answered, "Yes," but I knew very well that zebras
would not be capering around the carcase of a rhinoceros. I quickly
arranged my blankets, pillow, and guns, in the hole, and then lay down
to feast my eyes on the interesting sight before me. It was bright
moonlight, as clear as I need wish, and within one night of being full
moon. There were six large lions, about twelve or fifteen hyaenas, and
from twenty to thirty jackals, feasting on and around the carcases of
the three rhinoceroses. The lions feasted peacefully, but the hyenas
and jackals fought over every mouthful, and chased one another round
and round the carcases, growling, laughing, screeching, chattering,
and howling without any intermission. The hyaenas did not seem afraid
of the lions, although they always gave way before them; for I
observed that they followed them in the most disrespectful manner, and
stood laughing, one or two on either side, when any lions came after
their comrades to examine pieces of skin or bones which they were
dragging away. I had lain watching this banquet for about four hours,
in the strong hope that, when the lions had feasted, they would come
and drink. Two black and two white rhinoceroses had made their
appearance, but, scared by the smell of the blood, they soon made off.
At length the lions seemed satisfied. They all walked about with their
heads up, and seemed to be thinking about the water, and in two
minutes one of them turned his face towards me, and came on; he was
immediately followed by the second lion, and in half a minute by the
other four. It was a decided and general move, they were all coming to
drink right bang in my face, within fifteen yards of me.
I charged the unfortunate, pale, and panting Kleinboy to convert
himself into a stone, and knowing, from old spoor, exactly where they
would drink, I cocked my left barrel, and placed myself and gun in
position. The six lions came steadily on along the ridge, until within
sixty yards of me, when they halted for a minute to reconnoitre. One
of them stretched out his massive arms on the rock and lay down; the
others then came on, and he rose and brought up the rear. They walked,
as I had anticipated, to the old drinking place, and three of them had
put down their heads and were lapping the water loudly, when Kleinboy
thought it necessary to show his ugly head. I turned my head slowly to
rebuke him, and again taming to the lions I found myself discovered.
An old lioness, who seemed to take the lead, had detected me, and,
with her head high and her eyes fixed full upon me, she was coming
slowly round the corner of the little vley to cultivate further my
acquaintance! This unfortunate proceeding put a stop at once to all
further contemplation. I thought, in my haste, that it was perhaps
most prudent to shoot this lioness, especially as none of the others
had noticed me. I accordingly moved my arm and covered her: she saw me
move and halted, exposing a full broadside, I fired; the ball entered
one shoulder and passed out behind the other. She bounded forward with
repeated growls, and was followed by her five comrades all enveloped
in a cloud of dust; nor did they stop until they had reached the cover
behind me, except one old gentleman, who halted and looked back for a
few seconds, when I fired, but the ball went high. I listened
anxiously for some sound to denote the approaching end of the lioness;
nor listened in vain. I heard her growling and stationary, as if
dying. In one minute her comrades crossed the vley a little below me,
and made towards the rhinoceros. I then slipped Wolf and Boxer on her
scent, and, following them into the river, I found her lying dead
within twenty yards of where the old lion had lain two nights before.
This was a fine old lioness, with perfect teeth, and was certainly a
noble prize; but I felt dissatisfied at not having rather shot a lion,
which I had most certainly done if my Hottentot had not destroyed my
contemplation.
Attacks on Brookfield and Deerfield.
The early settlers of New England did not suffer much from the
hostility of the Indians, until the breaking out of King Philip's war,
in 1675. Philip was the son of Massasoit, who was the friend of the
English from the time of the landing of the pilgrims until the day of
his death. Offended at the manner in which the English behaved towards
his brother, Alexander, Philip resolved upon a war of extermination,
and, for this purpose, he united nearly all the New England tribes.
The war was very destructive to the whites, though it ended in the
total overthrow of the Indian power.
One of the first places attacked was the town of Brookfield,
Massachusetts. Upon receiving intelligence that Philip had begun
hostilities, the inhabitants all collected in one large house.
Captains Wheeler and Hutchinson went into the country of the Nipmucks,
to treat with them, but they, instigated by Philip, fired upon the
party of whites, killed eight men and mortally wounded Captain
Hutchinson. The rest fled to Brookfield, pursued by the Indians. The
inhabitants were now surrounded by a host of foes, who burned every
house in the place, except the one in which the people and soldiers
were collected. Here they directed their whole force. Upon this house
they poured a storm of musket balls for about two days. Countless
numbers pierced through the walls, yet only one person was killed.
Brands and rags dipped in brimstone were thrust against the house with
long poles. The Indians shot arrows, tipped with fire, upon the roof.
They loaded a cart with flax and tow, and with long poles fastened
together, pushed it against the house. Destruction seemed inevitable,
the house was kindling. The bold and resolute settlers were beginning
to give up all hope, when a sudden and providential fall of rain
quenched the flames.
The savages yelled with the fury of disappointment, and resorted to
other schemes for the destruction of the house and its inmates. In all
probability, they would have succeeded in effecting their object; but
on the 4th of August, Major Willard, with a party of troops, appeared,
and attacked the besiegers. The conflict was soon decided. The Indians
never could withstand an equal number of whites in a fair field. They
now gave way, after suffering a great loss. The people of Brookfield
were thus happily delivered from their savage foe. But their houses
were burned, and stock destroyed.
The next place attacked was Deerfield, upon the Connecticut river,
which experienced the horror of Indian atrocity several times during
the course of the war. The town was first attacked in September, 1675,
when most of the houses were burned, and some of the inhabitants
killed. At Deerfield, there were three thousand bushels of wheat in
stock, which it was resolved to bring to the general magazine at
Hadley. Captain Lathrop, with ninety men, guarded the teams employed
in this service. On the way, they were assaulted by about seven
hundred Indians. Few of the whites escaped. They fought bravely, and
killed a great many of the Indians, but were nearly all slain. Captain
Mosely marched from Deerfield to reinforce Captain Lathrop. Arriving
too late, he was compelled to sustain the onset of the whole force of
the enemy, until Major Treat came to his relief, and put the Indians
to flight.
In the early part of February, a large body of Indians attempted to
surprise Deerfield by night. But the inhabitants were alarmed and
prepared, and after a short conflict succeeded in driving off the
savages. Soon after a party of whites from Deerfield attacked a party
of Indians in a swamp, near that town, and killed one hundred and
twenty of them. But the whites, on their return, were waylaid, and as
they had expended all their ammunition they fell an easy prey. Fifty
were killed and eighty-four wounded. Such were the horrors of King
Philip's war.
Attack on Mrs. Scraggs's House.
On the night of the 11th of April, 1787, the house of the widow
Scraggs, in Bourbon county, Kentucky, was attacked by the Indians. The
widow occupied what is called double cabin, one room of which was
tenanted by the old lady herself, together with two grown sons and a
widowed daughter, who was at that time suckling an infant, while the
other was occupied by two unmarried daughters, from sixteen to twenty
years of age, together with a little girl, not more than half grown.
The hour was eleven o'clock at night. One of the unmarried daughters
was still busily engaged at the loom, but the other members of the
family, with the exception of one of the sons, had retired to rest.
Some symptoms of an alarming nature had engaged the attention of the
young man for an hour before any thing of a decided character took
place. The cry of owls was heard in the adjoining wood, answering each
other in rather an unusual manner. The horses which were enclosed as
usual in a pound near the house were more than commonly their excited,
and by repeated snorting and galloping, announced the presence of some
object of terror. The young man was often upon the point of awakening
his brother, but was as often restrained by the fear of incurring
ridicule and their reproach of timidity, at that time an unpardonable
blemish in the character of a Kentuckian. At length, hasty steps were
heard in the yard, and quickly afterwards several knocks at the door,
accompanied by the usual exclamation, "who keeps house?" in very good
English.
The young man, supposing from the language, that some benighted
settlers were at the door, hastily arose and advancing to withdraw the
bar which secured it, when his mother, who had long lived upon the
frontiers, and had probably detected the Indian tone in the demand for
admission, sprung out of bed, and ordered her son not to admit them,
declaring that they were Indians. She instantly awakened her other
son, and the two young men seizing their guns, which were always
charged, prepared to repel the enemy.
The Indians finding it impossible to enter under their assumed
characters, began to thunder at the door with great violence, but a
single shot from a loophole, compelled them to shift the attack to
some less exposed point; and, unfortunately, they discovered the door
of the other cabin, which contained the three daughters. The rifles of
the brothers could not be brought to bear upon this point, and by
means of several rails taken from the yard fence, the door was forced
from its hinges and the three girls were at the mercy of the savage.
One was immediately secured, but the eldest defended herself
desperately with a knife which she had been using in the loom, and
stabbed one of the Indians to the heart, before she was tomahawked.
In the meantime the little girl, who had been overlooked by the enemy
in their eagerness to secure the others, ran out into the yard, and
might have effected her escape had she taken advantage of the darkness
and fled, but instead of that the terrified little creature ran round
the house wringing her hands, and crying out that her sisters were
killed. The brothers, unwilling to hear her cries without risking
every thing for her rescue, rushed to the door and were preparing to
sally out to her assistance, when their mother threw herself before
them and calmly declared that the child must be abandoned to its
fate--that the sally would sacrifice the lives of the rest without the
slightest benefit to the little girl. Just then the child uttered a
loud scream, followed by a faint moan, and all was again silent.
Presently the crackling of flames was heard, accompanied by a
triumphant yell from the Indians, announcing that they had set fire to
that division of the house which had been occupied by the daughters,
and of which they had undisputed possession.
The fire was quickly communicated to part of the building, it became
necessary to abandon it or perish in the flames. In the one case,
there was a possibility that some might escape; in the other, their
fate would be equally certain and terrible. The rapid approach of the
flames cut short their momentary suspense. The door was thrown open,
just as some of the Indians began to enter the house through a breach
made by the fire. The old lady, supported by her eldest son, attempted
to cross the fence at one point, while the other son carried his
sister and her son in another direction.
The old lady was permitted to reach the stile unmolested, but in the
act of crossing, received several balls in the breast and fell dead.
Her son, providentially, remained unhurt, and by extraordinary agility
effected his escape. The other party succeeded also in reaching the
fence unhurt, but in the act of crossing, were vigorously assailed by
several Indians, who throwing down their guns, rushed upon them with
their tomahawks. The young man defended his sister gallantly, firing
upon the enemy as they approached, and then wielding the butt of his
rifle with a fury that drew the whole attention upon himself, and gave
his sister an opportunity of effecting her escape. He quickly fell,
however, under the tomahawk of his enemies, and was found at daylight,
scalped and mangled in a shocking manner. Of the whole family,
consisting of eight persons, when the attack commenced, only three
escaped. Four were killed upon the spot, and one, the second daughter,
carried off a prisoner.
The neighborhood was quickly alarmed, and by daylight about thirty men
were assembled under the command of Colonel Edwards. A slight snow had
fallen during the latter part of the night, and the Indian trail could
be pursued at a gallop. It led directly into the mountainous country
bordering on Licking, and afforded evidences of great hurry and
precipitation on the part of the fugitives. Unfortunately, a hound had
been permitted to accompany the whites, and as the trail became fresh
and the scent warm, she followed it with eagerness, baying loudly and
giving the alarm to the Indians.
The consequences of this imprudence were soon displayed. The enemy
finding the pursuit keen, and perceiving that the strength of the
prisoner began to fail, sunk their tomahawks in her head and left her,
still warm and bleeding upon the snow. As the whites came up, she
retained strength enough to wave her hand in token of recognition, and
appeared desirous of giving them some information, with regard to the
enemy, but her strength was too far gone. Her brother sprung from his
horse, and knelt by her side, endeavoring to stop the effusion of
blood, but in vain. She gave him her hand, muttering some inarticulate
words, and expired within two minutes after the arrival of the party.
The pursuit was renewed with additional ardor, and in twenty minutes
the enemy was within view. They had taken possession of a steep narrow
ridge and seemed desirous of magnifying their numbers in the eyes of
the whites, as they ran rapidly from tree to tree, and maintained a
steady yell in their most appalling tones. The pursuers, however, were
too experienced to be deceived by so common an artifice, and being
satisfied that the number of the enemy must be inferior to their own,
they dismounted, tied their horses, and flanking out in such a manner
as to enclose the enemy, ascended the ridge as rapidly as was
consistent with a due regard to the shelter of their persons. The
firing quickly commenced, and now for the first time they discovered
that only two Indians were opposed to them. They had voluntarily
sacrificed themselves for the safety of the main body, and had
succeeded in delaying pursuit until their friends had reached the
mountains. One of them was shot dead, and the other was badly wounded,
as was evident from the blood upon his blanket, as well as that which
filled his tracks in the snow for a considerable distance. The pursuit
was recommenced, and urged keenly until night, when the trail entered
a running stream and was lost. On the following morning the snow had
melted, and every trace of the enemy was obliterated.
Fearful Adventure with a man-eating lion.
The following is Mr. Cumming's account of a fearful adventure, in
which he lost one of his most valuable servants:
On the 29th we arrived at a small village of Bakalahari. These natives
told me that elephants were abundant on the opposite side of the
river. I accordingly resolved to halt here and hunt, and drew my
wagons up on the river's bank, within thirty yards of the water, and
about one hundred yards from the native village. Having outspanned, we
at once set about making for the cattle a kraal of the worst
description of thorn trees. Of this I had now become very particular,
since my severe loss by lions on the first of this month; and my
cattle were, at night, secured by a strong kraal, which enclosed my
two wagons, the horses being made fast to a trektow, stretched to the
two hind-wheels of the wagons. I had yet, however, a fearful lesson to
learn as to the nature and character of the lion, of which I had at
one time entertained so little fear; and on this night a horrible
tragedy was to be acted in my little lonely camp of so very awful and
appalling a nature as to make the blood curdle in our veins. I worked
till near sun down at one side of the kraal with Hendrick, my first
wagon driver--I cutting down the trees with my axe, and he dragging
them to the kraal. When the kraal for the cattle was finished, I
turned my attention to making a pot of barley broth, and lighted a
fire between the wagons and the water, close on the river's bank,
under a dense grove of shady trees, making a sort of kraal around our
sitting place for the evening.
The Hottentots, without any reason, made their fire about fifty yards
from mine; they according to their usual custom, being satisfied with
the shelter of a large dense bush. The evening passed away cheerfully.
Soon after it was dark we heard elephants breaking the trees in the
forest across the river; and once or twice I strode away into the
darkness some distance from the fireside, to stand and listen to them.
I little, at that moment, deemed of the imminent peril to which I was
exposing my life, nor thought that a blood-thirsty man-eater lion was
crouching near, and only watching his opportunity to spring into the
midst of us, and consign one of our number to a most horrible death.
About three hours after the sun went down I called to my men to come
and take their coffee and supper which was ready for them at my fire;
and after supper three of them returned before their comrades to their
own fireside, and lay down; these were John Stofolus, Hendrick, and
Ruyter. In a few minutes an ox came out by the gate of the kraal and
walked out by the back of it. Hendrick got up and drove him in again,
and then went back to his fireside and lay down. Hendrick and Ruyter
lay on one side of the fire under one blanket, and John Stofolus lay
on the other. At this moment I was sitting taking some barley-broth;
our fire was very small, and the night was pitch-dark and windy. Owing
to our proximity to the native village the wood was very scarce, the
Bakalahari having burnt it all in their fires.
Suddenly the appalling and murderous voice of an angry blood-thirsty
lion burst upon my ears within a few yards of us, followed by the
shrieking of the Hottentots. Again and again the murderous roar of
attack was repeated. We heard John and Ruyter shriek, "The lion, the
lion!" still, for a few moments, we thought he was chasing one of the
dogs round the kraal; but, the next instant, John Stofolus rushed into
the midst of us, almost speechless with fear and terror, his eyes
bursting from their sockets, and shrieked out, "The lion, the lion! He
has got Hendrick; he dragged him away from the fire beside me. I
struck him with the burning brands upon his head, but he would not let
go his hold. Hendrick is dead! Oh, God! Hendrick is dead! Let us take
fire and seek him!"
The rest of my people rushed about shrieking and yelling as if they
were mad. I was at once angry with them for their folly, and told them
if they did not stand still and keep quiet the lion would have another
of us; and that very likely there was a troop of them. I ordered the
dogs, which were nearly all fast, to be made loose, and the fire to be
increased as far as could be. I then shouted Hendrick's name, but all
was still. I told my men that Hendrick was dead, and that a regiment
of soldiers could not now help him, and, hunting my dogs forward, I
had every thing brought within the cattle-kraal, when we lighted our
fire and closed the entrance as well as we could. My terrified people
sat round the fire with guns in their hand till the day broke, still
fancying that every moment the lion would return and spring again into
the midst of us.
When the dogs were first let go, the stupid brutes, as dogs often
prove when most required, instead of going at the lion, rushed
fiercely on one another, and fought desperately for some minutes.
After this, they got his wind, and going at him, disclosed to us his
position; they kept up a continual barking until the day dawned, the
lion occasionally springing after them and driving them in upon the
kraal. The horrible monster lay all night within forty yards of us,
consuming the wretched man whom he had chosen for his prey. He had
dragged him into a little hollow at the back of a thick bush, beside
which the fire was kindled, and there he remained till the day dawned,
careless of our proximity.
It appeared that when the unfortunate Hendrick rose to drive in the
ox, the lion had watched him to his fireside, and he had scarcely lain
down when the brute sprang upon him and Ruyter, for both lay under one
blanket, with his appalling murderous roar, and, roaring as he lay,
grappled him with his fearful claws, and kept biting him on his breast
and shoulder, all the while feeling for his neck; having got hold of
which, he dragged him away backwards round the bush into the dense
shade.
As the lion lay upon the unfortunate man he faintly cried, "Help me,
help me! Oh, God! men, help me!" After which the fearful beast got a
hold of his neck, and then all was still, except that his comrades
heard the bones of his neck cracking between the teeth of the lion.
John Stofolus had lain with his back to the fire on the opposite side,
and on hearing the lion he sprang up, and, seizing a large flaming
brand, he had belabored him on the head with the burning wood; but the
brute did not take any notice of him. The Bushman had a narrow escape;
he was not altogether scatheless, the lion having inflicted two gashes
in his seat with his claws.
The next morning, just as the day began to dawn, we heard the lion
dragging something up the river-side under cover of the bank. We drove
the cattle out of the kraal, and then proceeded to inspect the scene
of the night's awful tragedy. In the hollow, where the lion had lain
consuming his prey, we found one leg of the unfortunate Hendrick,
bitten off below the knee, the shoe still on his foot; the grass and
bushes were all stained with his blood, and fragments of his pea-coat
lay around.
Poor Hendrick! I knew the fragments of that old coat, and had often
marked them hanging in the dense covers where the elephant had charged
after my unfortunate after-rider. Hendrick was by far the best man I
had about my wagons, of a most cheerful disposition, first-rate wagon
driver, fearless in the field, ever active, willing, and obliging: his
loss to us all was very serious. I felt confounded and utterly sick in
my heart; I could not remain at the wagons, so I resolved to go after
elephants to divert my mind. I had this morning heard them breaking
the trees on the opposite side of the river. I accordingly told the
natives of the village my intentions; and having ordered my people to
devote the day to fortifying the kraal, I started with Piet and Ruyter
as my after-riders.
It was a very cold day. We crossed the river, and at once took up the
fresh spoor of a troop of bull elephants. These bulls unfortunately
joined a troop of cows, and the bulls were off in a moment, before we
could even see them. One remarkably fine old cow charged the dogs. I
hunted this cow and finished her with two shots from the saddle. Being
anxious to return to my people before night, I did not attempt to
follow the troop.
My followers were not a little gratified to see me returning, for
terror had taken hold of their minds, and they expected that the lion
would return, and, emboldened by the success of the preceding night,
would prove still more daring in his attack. The lion would most
certainly have returned, but fate had otherwise ordained. My health
had been better in the last three days: my fever was leaving me, but I
was, of course, still very weak. It would still be two hours before
the sun would set, and feeling refreshed by a little rest, and able
for further work, I ordered the steeds to be saddled, and went in
search of the lion.
I took John and Carey as after-riders, armed, and a party of the
natives followed up the spoor and led the dogs. The lion had dragged
the remains of poor Hendrick along a native footpath that led up the
river's side. We found fragments of his coat all along the spoor, and
at last the mangled coat itself. About six hundred yards from our camp
a dry river's course joined the Limpopo. At this spot was much cover,
and heaps of dry reeds and trees deposited by the Limpopo in some
great flood. The lion had left the footpath and entered this secluded
spot. I at once felt convinced that we were upon him, and ordered the
natives to make loose the dogs. These walked suspiciously forward on
the spoor, and next minute began to spring about, barking angrily,
with all their hair bristling on their backs: a crash upon the dry
reeds immediately followed--it was the lion bounding away.
Several of the dogs were extremely afraid of him, and kept rushing
continually backwards springing aloft to obtain a view. I now pressed
forward and urged them on; old Argyll and Bles took up his spoor in
gallant style and led on the other dogs. Then commenced a short but
lively and glorious chase, whose conclusion was the only small
satisfaction that I could obtain to answer for the horrors of the
preceding evening. The lion held up the river's bank for a short
distance and took away through some wait-a-bit thorn cover, the best
he could find, but nevertheless open. Here, in two minutes, the dogs
were up with him, and he turned and stood at bay. As I approached, he
stood, his horrid head right to me, with open jaws growling fiercely,
his tail waving from side to side.
On beholding him my blood boiled with rage. I wished that I could take
him alive and torture him, and setting my teeth, I dashed my steed
forward within thirty yards of him and shouted, "Your time is up, old
fellow." I halted my horse, and, placing my rifle to my shoulder, I
waited for a broadside. This, the next moment, he exposed, when I sent
a bullet through his shoulder and dropped him on the spot. He rose,
however, again, when I finished him with a second in the breast. The
Bakalahari now came up with wonder and delight. I ordered John to cut
off his head and forepaws and bring them to the wagons, and mounting
my horse I galloped home, having been absent about fifteen minutes.
When the Bakalahari women heard that the man-eater was dead, they all
commenced dancing about with joy, calling me _their father_.
Thrilling Adventures of Mr. Butler.
The early history of Kentucky is one continued series of daring and
romantic adventures. Had the founder of that state lived in the days
of chivalric yore, his exploits would have been sung in connection
with those of Arthur and Orlando; and his followers, in the same
region, would certainly have been knights of the Round Table.
The hero of our story was one of these. Those who desire to inspect
his adventure, by the light of romance, will not be displeased at
learning that his choice of a hunter's life was determined by a
disappointment in the object of his early love.
He was then only nineteen, yet he fearlessly left his native state,
and sought, amid the uncultivated wilds of Kentucky, the stirring
enjoyment of a western hunter. After rendering valuable service to the
Virginia colony, as a spy and pioneer, he undertook a voyage of
discovery to the country north of the Ohio. It was while thus engaged
that he was taken prisoner by the Indians.
He was, no doubt, known to the Indians as an active and dangerous
enemy; and they now prepared to avenge themselves upon him. They
condemned him to the fiery torture, painted his body black, and
marched him toward Chilicothe. By way of amusement on the road, he was
manacled hand and foot, tied to an unbridled and unbroken horse, and
driven off amid the shouts and whoops of the savages; poor Butler thus
played the part of an American Mazeppa. The horse, unable to shake
him off galloped with terrific speed toward the wood, jarring and
bruising the rider at every step; but at length, exhausted and
subdued, it returned to camp with its burden, amid the exulting shouts
of the savages. When within a mile of Chilicothe, they took Butler
from the horse, and tied him to a stake, where, for twenty-four hours,
he remained in one position. He was then untied to run the gauntlet.
Six hundred Indians, men, women, and children, armed with clubs and
switches, arranged themselves in two parallel lines, to strike him as
he passed. It was a mile to the council-house, which if he reached, he
was to be spared. A blow started him on this encouraging race; but he
soon broke through the files and had almost reached the council-house,
when he was brought to the ground by a club. In this position he was
severely beaten and again taken into custody.
These terrible sufferings, instead of satisfying the Indians, only
stimulated them to invent more ingenious tortures. Their cruelty was
not more astonishing than the fortitude of the victim. He ran the
gauntlet thirteen times; he was exposed to insult, privation, and
injury of every kind: sometimes he was tied, sometimes beaten. At
others, he was pinched, dragged on the ground, or deprived for long
periods of sleep. Then, amid jeers and yells, he was marched from
village to village, so that all might be entertained with his
sufferings. Yet, amid each torture, he never failed to improve an
opportunity favorable for escaping, and in one instance would have
effected it, but for some Indians whom he accidentally met returning
to the village. Finally it was resolved to burn him at Lower Sandusky.
The procession, bearing the victim to the stake, passed by the cabin
of Simon Girty, whose name is a counterpart to that of Brandt, in the
annals of Pennsylvania. This man had just returned from an
unsuccessful expedition to the frontier of that state, burning, of
course, with disappointment, and a thirst for revenge. Hearing that a
white prisoner was being carried to the torture, he rushed out, threw
Butler down, and began to beat him.
The reader will not be apt to imagine that this was in any way
favorable to Butler's escape; yet it was so. He instantly recognised
in the fierce assailant a companion of early days, and as such made
himself known. The heart of the savage relented. He raised up his old
friend, promised to use his influence for him, summoned a council, and
persuaded the Indians to resign Butler to him. Taking the unfortunate
man home, he fed and nursed him until he began to recover. But five
days had scarcely expired, when the Indians relented, seizing their
victim, and marched him to be burned at Lower Sandusky. By a
surprising coincidence, he here met the Indian agent from Detroit, who
interceded and saved him. He was taken to that town, paroled by the
governor, and subsequently escaped through the woods to Kentucky.
Robert and Samuel M'Afee.
Early in May, 1781, M'Afee's station, in the neighborhood of
Harrodsburg, Kentucky, was alarmed by the approach of Indians. On the
morning of the 9th, Samuel M'Afee, accompanied by another man, left
the fort in order to visit a small plantation in the neighborhood, and
at the distance of three hundred yards from the gate, they were fired
upon by a party of Indians in ambush. The man who, accompanied him
instantly fell. An Indian rushed up, dropped his rifle, scalped the
man, and holding up the bleeding trophy, gave a yell of delight.
M'Afee attempted to regain the fort. While running for that purpose,
he found himself suddenly intercepted by an Indian, who, springing out
of the canebrake, placed himself directly in his path. Each glared
upon the other for an instant, in silence, and both raising their guns
at the moment, pulled the triggers together. The Indian's rifle
snapped, while M'Afee's ball passed directly through his brain. Having
no time to reload his gun, he sprung over the body of his antagonist,
and continued his flight to the fort. When within one hundred yards of
the gate, he was met by his two brothers, Robert and James, who at the
report of the guns, had hurried out to the assistance of their
brother. Samuel hastily informed them of their danger, and exhorted
them to return. James readily complied, but Robert, declared that he
must have a view of the dead Indian. He ran on for that purpose, and
having enjoyed the spectacle, was returning, when he saw five or six
Indians between him and the fort, evidently bent on taking him alive.
All his activity and presence of mind was put in request. He ran from
tree to tree, endeavoring to turn their flank, and reach one of the
gates, and after a variety of turns and doublings, he found himself
pressed by only one Indian. M'Afee turned upon his pursuer, and
compelled him to take shelter behind a tree. Both stood still for a
moment--M'Afee having his gun cocked, and the sight fixed where he
supposed the Indian would thrust out his head in order to have a view
of his antagonist. After waiting a few seconds, the Indian exposed a
part of his head to take sight, when M'Afee fired, and the Indian
fell. While turning, to continue the flight, he was fired on by a
party of six, which compelled him again to tree. But scarcely had he
done so, when he received the fire of three more enemies which made
the bark and dust fly about him. Finding his post dangerous, he ran
for the fort, which he reached in safety, to the inexpressible joy of
his brothers, who had despaired of his return.
A few days' Sport in Chinese Tartary.
Much may have been said, but little has been written, of the yet but
very partially explored part of the world between China and the
Himayla chain. Moorcroft and Gerard, some thirty years ago, visited
some parts bordering on the extreme north-west of the British
possessions in India. Fraser, a few years later, penetrated probably
those parts of it adjoining the central hill sanatoriums of Simla and
Almorah, and he, like his predecessors, was stopped by the jealous
government and its inhabitants. Previous to entering Chinese Tartary
from British India, the traveller has to cross certain of the passes
in the great snowy range, some of them varying in height from sixteen
to eighteen thousand feet above the level of the sea.
The Barinda, one of the most frequented and best known of these
passes, is variously estimated at from seventeen to eighteen thousand
feet. The months of June, July, and August are generally considered
the best months for crossing.
The scenery in and around these passes is of the most sublime
description. As I should assuredly fail, however, in describing it, I
must content myself with a narration of some personal adventures which
befel me in an attempt to carry into effect a long cherished
determination to make the acquaintance of the seeta bhaloo (white
bear) and the burul, (white sheep,) found only in these regions. By
the route I took, seventeen marches brought me to the snow. Here our
"roughing" commenced, the Peharrees, or hill men, of our side of the
snow, having a most religious horror of the great snowy range. The air
there they declare is charged with "bis" (poison,) and this is the
only way they can in their original way account for the painful and
distressing effects which the rarefied air in those elevations
produces on the human frame. The first intimation we have that we are
far above the altitude of comfort, is a dull, heavy pain on the
shoulders, as if you were carrying a load above your capacity; then a
very painful sensation on the forehead, as if it had been bandaged
unpleasantly tight, accompanied by a burning sensation of the eyes and
nose, followed by an involuntary bleeding of the latter.
This last symptom of the effects of high rarefaction, is, to an
Englishman, at least it was to us, always a great relief. It operates
differently upon the natives; they become only more alarmed and
helpless, and, unless hurried through the passes very expeditiously,
invariably perish. On my first trip, I left two unfortunate hill men
in the Sogla Pass. Two more would have perished, had not I taken one
wheelbarrow fashion, by the legs, and dragged him after me, although
very much distressed myself, until we had descended sufficiently to
rest with safety. My head man, Jye Sing, by my direction, took the
other man, and both were saved.
After getting through the pass, we came upon the inhabited tracks, and
made the acquaintance of the Bhootias. I found them very original,
very dirty, and very honest with regard to every thing except tobacco.
This, neither father nor mother, husband or wife, could help stealing,
whenever they had the opportunity; and the most amusing part of it
was, they never attempted to deny the theft, but stoutly maintained
their right to the article! Numerous were the thrashings inflicted by
Buctoo on them for tobacco thieving, but the thefts did not diminish.
As my object in coming into these dreary fastnesses was to get on
terms of familiarity with the quadrupedal rather than the bipedal
inhabitants, I will leave the Bhootias, and proceed to describe my
rencontres with the equally civilized four-footed denizens. I had in
my employ Shikarees (gameseekers) of no ordinary class, who, having
been many years with me, were well tutored; although, when first
caught, they were ignorance personified as far as sporting matters
went. Their original incapacity will be easily credited, when I inform
them that my second best man, Buctoo, had followed the sporting
occupation of a village fiddler, before he entered my service, and
knew as much of the capabilities of an English rifle as he did of the
"Pleiades." Jye Sing was a little better informed, for he told me
confidentially, one day, he had seen a gentleman at Subathoo actually
kill quail flying with small shot. His occupation had been that of
findal, or porter, to some families at Simla. Two months' training
turned him out, not only one of the most intelligent, but pluckiest
Shikaree I ever had.
Having, in my numerous excursions into the hills, obtained some very
vague information from the many villagers I came in contact with, that
they had often heard from parties residing near the snow that there
was an animal to be found there strongly resembling the famous sheep,
(_Ovid Burul_,) I determined upon despatching Jye Sing and Buctoo to
those regions, to obtain all the precise information that might be
available, cautioning them not to return without either having seen
the animal, or bringing me some proof of its existence, and further
promising them a handsome present, if they brought me satisfactory
information. They were absent two months, and returned with some most
marvellous stories about what they had seen and heard, and, as a proof
of the existence of the animal, brought me the horn of a wild sheep
they had picked up in one of the valleys in the snow, after an
avalanche had melted. This physical fragment at once removed all my
doubts, the horn being different from that of any tame sheep. I was
now wound up to the highest pitch of excitement; my marching
establishment was soon put in order, and we started on the following
day. Fifteen forced marches brought me to the foot of the snow, and
also to the last village, called "Ufsul." I found the inhabitants of
this village a most rude and demi-barbarous race, knowing little, and
wishing to know less, of Englishmen, of whom they seemed to have the
greatest dread. However, two days' soft sawdering with a plentiful
supply of hill "buckshee," (spirits,) made them more communicative;
and they at last informed me, if I would promise only to remain a
week, they would show me the wild sheep. This promise, of course, I
gave; and on the following morning at daybreak, (shivering cold it
was,) we started to ascend the snow-capped mountains and glaciers,
which the animal patronized. On the road up I was sorely tempted to
draw my ball and ram down shot, in order to bring down some of the
many woodcocks we were constantly flushing, and which were so
unaccustomed to be disturbed, that they only flew a few yards away;
but I resisted the temptation.
As we progressed in the region of eternal snow, we began to find
pedestrianism a difficult task. Some parts of the path were very
slippery and hard; others, soft and knee-deep in snow. An idea may be
formed of the height we had to ascend, and the nature of the ground
which we traversed, when I mention that we left our tents at seven
o'clock in the morning, and had not arrived at the "sheep-walk" before
one.
Now commenced the difficulty. The burrul, from its well-known and
secluded habits, is a most difficult animal to approach. I was at
last, however, rewarded for my labor. About two o'clock we came upon
the fresh marks of the flock; we followed them for some distance, but
coming near a hot spring where they had evidently been grazing, lost
of course all farther track. For the next hour I worked on one
glacier, around another, used my telescope, but could not discern any
object. Suddenly one of the villagers called my attention to something
above me. I looked up and beheld a pair of enormous horns bending
over. None of the body of the animal was then visible. I now
cautiously moved a short distance to the right, when I had the
satisfaction of seeing not only his horns, but a full broadside view
of the first wild sheep I ever saw. He was about one hundred and fifty
yards off. Having elevated the proper sight, I brought my rifle to
bear on the shoulder, took a steady and gradual draw of the trigger,
the rifle cracked, and dead came down the burrul of Thibet.
Perhaps, up to this time, the burrul had known no other mortal foe
than the white, or whitey-brown bear of the hills--the seeta bhaloo,
as he is called. And this brings me to another part of my sporting
excursion.
Whether from the scarcity of food, or the amiability of their
dispositions, the seeta bhaloo are to be met with constantly in small
bodies of from five to ten, differing in this respect from their sable
brethren, who are generally found alone, unless a matrimonial alliance
has been formed, when the intrusion of a third party, whether male or
female, ensures a fight.
The white bear is only carnivorous when pressed by hunger, and in that
state is very destructive to the numerous Tartar flocks of sheep, for
Bruin, with an empty larder is not to be deterred from his ravenous
attacks by men or dogs--a haunch of mutton he will have. His mode of
devouring it differs greatly from that of the tiger or leopard. He
tears the fleece off with his paws, and instead of gnawing and tearing
the flesh, as most carnivorous animals do, he commences sucking it,
and in this way draws off the flesh in shreds, thus occupying four or
five hours in doing what a tiger or leopard would effectually achieve
in half an hour. It is well known among the Tartars, (and I know it
also from experience,) that a bear, after feasting off flesh, is a
very dangerous customer, and will always show fight. If near the
carcass he has captured, he will give very little trouble in looking
for him, indeed, he will almost invariably attack the intruder.
One day while following up some wild sheep, I came upon two bears very
busily engaged in digging up the snow where an avalanche had fallen.
Being hid from their sight, I determined to wait some little time to
ascertain why they were digging. I accordingly placed myself behind a
rock, and allowed them to work away. In about an hour they had made a
very good opening; and on using my glass I found they had got hold of
something. I now pushed up to them. One immediately showed fight, and
came out to meet me. He made one charge at me, which I received with a
rifle ball, killing him the very first shot. The other bear got away.
On going up to the spot where they had been at work, I found the
exhumed bodies of three wild sheep. They had been carried away and
buried underneath the avalanche, probably as far back as the previous
year, considering the very compact and frozen state the snow was in.
The sheep were in excellent order. We skinned them, and took them to
our tents, and excellent mutton we all had for several days.
On the melting of the snows, the golden eagle of the Himalaya--a
magnificent bird, often measuring thirteen feet from the tip of one
wing to the other--is one of the best of pointers a sportsman can
follow, to ascertain where any animal has been carried away in an
avalanche. He hovers over the spot, constantly alighting, and then
taking wing again; but if once you observe him pecking with his beak
you may proceed to the spot, and be certain of finding, a very short
distance below the snow, the carcass of a wild sheep, as fresh as it
was on the day on which it was carried away. Many a haunch of good
mutton have I obtained in this way.
The Himalayan golden eagle is a very carrion crow, never destroying
its own game, and feeding on any dead carcass it may find.
Many an eagle have I shot feeding on the carcass of an unfortunate
hill bullock, which, either through stupidity or fright, had tumbled
over a precipice; and never, during the many years I shot over all
parts of these hills, do I remember seeing a golden eagle pounce on or
carry away a living prey.
The Tartar shepherds near the snow informed me that during the lambing
season the eagles were very troublesome. If a ewe dropped a sickly
lamb, and left it, the eagle would attack it, but never attempted to
stoop to carry away a live one, or one that followed its mother. The
Indian golden eagle is identical with the Lammergeyer of the Alps, but
wants the courage of the latter bird.
A companion and myself had been working hard in the "Sogla," one of
the passes in the snowy range conducting into Chinese Tartary, after
the wild sheep, and found them this day wilder and more wary than on
any previous occasion. It is not generally known that there are two
species of wild sheep--one called the dairuk, and the other (an
enormous animal, at least as far as its horns are concerned) known to
naturalists as the _ovis ammon_. The horns and head of the latter are
as much as a hill man can lift, and singular enough the body is small
indeed, out of all proportion to the horns borne by a full-grown ram.
My companion and self espied on an opposite hill what we at first
(through our telescopes) thought was an enormous pair of horns moving
without any ostensible carriage. At last we observed the body, and I,
in delight, exclaimed, "By Jove, there is the ovis ammon at last."
After considerable trouble and precious hard work, we worked up to
within the range, when a shot from my rifle brought the ram tumbling
down over the snow. I hoped and believed he was dead, but he was only
wounded. He got up again, and, in spite of the wound, made a very good
gallop over the deep snow. Finding he was too fast for us, we slipped
our dogs, and among them my poor "Karchia." The poor dog, as usual,
was first up with the ram, and seized him. The ram, having still a
good deal in him, broke the hold, and down he went to the bottom of
the ravine, where ran the Tonse river, a tributary of the Jumna here
in the snow.
The river was covered over in many places by avalanches, and was also
partly frozen; but in many places there were large holes. The ram
bounded over these until my poor dog Karchia again closed with and
seized him behind. With a vigorous effort the ovis ammon shook him
off. A few yards before the steep was a large hole in the Tonse, the
water foaming up through it; into this ovis ammon threw himself, and
was carried under the snow. Heaven knows where. On arriving at the
spot I found my dog baying most piteously, and trying to bite away the
frozen sides, but to no purpose, and I was obliged immediately to get
him chained up, fearing he would have plunged in after the game, when
I should have lost him, and most probably my own life. Having thus
introduced the wild sheep and white bear of Tartary, a few sentences
may not unprofitably be spent in describing the genus homo of the
Snowy Range. The Tartars, as may be imagined, are a very original
race, and in those parts visited by me I found them very primitive and
intensive, always barring the petty larceny propensities. Depending
principally on the sale of their wool for their support, and being
Bhuddhists by religion, they dared not destroy animal life; but when
nature had deprived one of their bullocks or sheep of existence,
either by accident or old age, economy forbids their wasting the
carcass, and it is eagerly devoured by them. Some of the ancient rams
I saw would require a considerable deal of mastication and powerful
digestive organs when summoned to their forefathers and committed to a
Tartar's jaws.
I cannot say that the hill people thrive on the diet, for in
appearance they are a miserable-looking, stunted race, very filthy in
their habits, seldom changing their coarse woollen clothing, and
entertaining a religious horror of cold water.
They have no objection to the good things brought from our side of the
snow, and I have seen them devour salt beef and pork with great gusto.
But what they must delight in, when they can get it, is English brandy
and tobacco. The former they will drink in great quantities, and for
men unaccustomed to liquor it is astonishing how well they resist its
intoxicating properties. I saw one man, a "Siana," the head of a
village, drink off two bottles of pure brandy without apparently
feeling any ill effects from the potation. On questioning him about
his sensations, he said that the only difference he found between the
brandy and water was, that it made his inside comfortably warm, and
his tongue very slippery, of which he gave us proof by chattering and
singing in a most uncouth way. Of all the horrible noises I ever
heard, those which a half-drunken Tartar makes are the most
discordant. The deep nasal and guttural noises he emits would beat
Welsh and Gaelic by a long chalk.
Although petty thefts are common among the Thibetans, valuable
articles may with with safety be left among them--even money they will
never touch. Many an hour have I whiled away among them watching
Buctoo and Jye Sing showing them many articles of my property, the use
or value of which they could not comprehend. Of my guns and rifles, in
particular, they stood in great awe, and for a long time none of them
could be induced to touch one. Our telescopes also caused great
terror, and many were the learned arguments they had as to what
possibly could be the use of the latter. I invariably carried a
favorite "Dolland" across my shoulder, and Buctoo was provided with a
similar instrument, of which he was very proud, and in the use of
which he became very expert.
One day, after a good day's sport, we had all sat down near a
beautiful spring, and I was enjoying a luncheon, when I found that
Buctoo had collected some fifty Tartars about him, who sat in a
circle, listening to his explanation of the use of his telescope. None
of his hearers could for some time be induced to touch it; they were
afraid of its either exploding or metamorphosing them into wild sheep.
The large village Tehong Si was about four miles below our bivouac,
and several of the head men had come up to have a look at us. The
village was just discernible to the naked eye, and Buctoo politely
inquired of one of the chiefs, if he would like to be informed what
was going on in the village below? The chief told him he should, when
Buctoo drew out the glass, on which all the Tartars moved off to a
respectful distance.
After looking at the village, Buctoo persuaded them to come close to
him once more, and duly informed them what he could see in the
village, describing certain parts of it so correctly that they were
astounded. (I must here mention that neither myself nor any of my
servants had been allowed to enter the village.) The Tartars at first
could hardly credit it; but after sundry questions as to the
description of houses on the north side, and again on the southern,
which Buctoo, on carefully examining, correctly described, they became
sadly perplexed. Buctoo once more endeavored to persuade them to take
a look themselves, and, after much coaxing and a little brandy, one of
the head men was induced to take the telescope into his hand.
The figure he cut in doing so, I shall not easily forget. He held it
out at arm's length, grinned at it most horribly, and chattered some
abominable gibberish in Tartaree, that no one understood, appearing to
expect every moment that the glass would bite him. After some minutes
spent in this way, he drew it near him, and by degrees became more
confident. Buctoo then approached him and set it, telling him how to
look through it. He then appeared very suspicious about this movement,
evidently fancying the glass was going to explode. At length he threw
it down, for which Buctoo boxed his ears. He then took it up again,
and it was brought to bear on the village. But the Tartar did us
again; for he shut both eyes. However, after a good deal of
persuasion, he was induced to open one and shut the other, and to peep
through the glass. For a second or two he trembled violently, and then
groaned heavily--threw down the glass, and commenced rolling down the
hill, head over heels, at a most awful pace. The whole batch, some
forty, were seized with the same complaint, and down they went after
their chief, roaring out, "Hi! ha!" at the top of their voice. Break
their necks they could not very easily; but how many of them escaped
serious injury I did not stop to ascertain. Upon seeing them all off,
I fell down heavily, fracturing my sides with laughter. Buctoo was in
the same state, and so were all my servants. We at last saw them, on
reaching a piece of level ground, get on their legs, the chief still
leading, and bolting for the village, at a pace that nothing would
warrant but a tin kettle at their heels.
In about ten minutes we heard the gongs and bells beating and tolling
at a great pace, with frightful shouting from men and women, and this
lasted for two hours, when all became quiet.
Not a Tartar could be got hold of for two days after this. At last, by
sending a small party rather near the village, several men showed
themselves, offering us any thing we wanted, if we would only return
to our proper side of the snow. This they were told we would do, if
they would only show us three or four more days' good sport; but if
not we would remain there six months, and turn them all into wild
sheep. Upon this they had a consultation, when it was decided that
they would show us excellent comfort provided we promised to take our
departure in four days, and never come there again. This was duly
agreed to, and after some very cautious approaches we got them once
more up to our tents. They certainly got their promise, for I had
excellent sport, and was therefore bound to fulfil my part of the
agreement.
On the fourth day arriving, they were invited to come once more to the
tent, and to receive a few trifling rewards for the sport they had
shown. Brandy was first served out, and this soon restored confidence,
when the distribution of a few knives, looking-glasses, beads, etc.,
etc., and sundry pieces of red cloth, brought them into good humor.
Every thing was going on as well as could be desired, when some
unfortunate dispute arose among some of my guides, (not my own
servants, but men taken from the last village on our side of the
snow,) and Tartars. They knew each other well, having, at a fair held
at the foot of the pass, a year's intercourse. These men, I have no
doubt, assisted by one of my own men, (and I strongly suspected
Buctoo, although he most solemnly denied it,) played them a sad trick.
I may here note that almost every Tartar carries a pipe, rudely made
of wrought iron, of about the size and shape of the common clay pipe.
Being inveterate smokers, a pipe full of good tobacco is one of the
most convincing arguments you can employ. While I was at dinner, I
ordered some tobacco to be given to them, and it was proposed they
should put that in their pouches, and allow some of my men to charge
their pipes with their own tobacco, of which they begged their
acceptance.
The Tartars, nothing loth, assented, and each man gave his iron pipe
to be charged, which was duly done and returned to each owner. Smoking
then commenced, and on finishing my dinner and coming outside the
tent, I found the Tartars all in a circle, smoking away, and my men,
some ten yards from them, and above them, and talking to them. They
were also smoking. Thinking nothing of this at the time, I took no
notice, and had my chair brought outside, and smoked my segar. In less
than five minutes I was considerably astonished on hearing a salvo as
of a volley of musketry, and iron pipes flying up and down in all
directions. Then a general shout, and off went the Tartars, as if Old
Nick was at their heels, halloing most fearfully. They did not run
far, but brought up about three hundred yards from where they started,
and demanded their pipes back. I asked them what was the matter; when
they said they would never smoke English tobacco again, for we smoked
with tobacco, and shot with tobacco, and _Sheitzan_ must have been the
manufacturer.
Kangaroo Hunting.
Kangarooing in Tasman's Peninsula is essentially a pedestrian sport. I
am aware that in an open country, and especially in New South Wales,
where the chase is followed on horseback, my assertion may seem like
rank heresy.
I have pursued the sport both mounted and on foot, and if a horse
enables you occasionally, on comparatively unincumbered ground, to see
something more of the run, you must still have pedestrians to hunt the
dogs. After all, decide this point as you will, we esteem it the
poorest variety of the chase. Some excitement must necessarily attend
it, but too much is left to the imagination, and too little of either
the game or the dogs is given to the eye.
It is rarely, except when on horseback, that one has the good fortune
to be in at the death, or to see the kangaroo pulled down.
The ground is usually hilly, the scrub thick, and the grass high. It
is needless to say that on the present occasion we were all on foot.
Forestier's Peninsula is no place for a horse, except the traveller be
jogging along the rugged and little frequented track which leads to
Hobart Town, by a most circuitous route.
Away then we strode, skirting the shore pretty closely, until we came
to a valley which had been partially cleared by one of those extensive
bush conflagrations which are of annual occurrence.
The forest is fired in several places every summer, with a view to
keeping down the scrub, and giving a chance of growth to the grass and
the larger forest trees. These burn for several consecutive days, and
at night the glare from them, lighting up the adjacent horizon, and
the wind at one time whirling along vast clouds of smoke, and again
throwing up sheets of flame and myriads of burning particles, produce
an effect as grand as can be imagined. Here, then, in the glade, we
paused, disposed ourselves in an extended line, slipped four dogs, and
gave the word, "go seek."
Away they trotted with nose to the ground, cautiously hunting,
crossing and recrossing, but occasionally getting not only out of
sight in the long grass, but out of hearing and command. Presently a
sharp bark gave the signal of game started, and the next moment we
catch a glimpse of the kangaroo in mid air, as he bounds down the
declivity in a succession of leaps such as the kangaroos only can
accomplish.
There he goes, his tiny ears laid back along his small deer-like head,
his forefeet gathered up like a penguin's flappers, and his long stout
tail erect in the air. Now bounding aloft, now vanishing as he leaps
into the waving grass.
Two more of the dogs have sighted him, and are silently tearing along
on his track. Every bound increases his distance from his pursuers, he
winds round the base of the hill, to avoid the ascent, but up he must
go; this is the only chance for the dogs, for running up hill is the
kangaroo's weak point. But now we lose sight of both dogs and
kangaroo; a burst of three minutes has sufficed to exhaust our first
wind, and to break one of our shins; for tearing through grass as high
as one's middle and stumbling over charred stumps and fallen trees,
soon reduces one to the "dead beat" predicament. Jerry, alone, thanks
to his hard condition, follows the chase.
All the party are now scattered, and after while reassemble by dint of
continuous "cooees." Whilst swabbing the perspiration off our brow,
one of the dogs makes his appearance, and, trotting slowly back with
panting flanks and lolling tongue, throws himself on his side
exhausted. His mouth is now carefully examined, and two fingers being
inserted, scoop round the fauces. The test is successful; there are
traces of blood and fluff. "Bravo! Rattler! Show him--good dog. Show
him!" Rattler rises with an effort, and lazily strikes into the bush,
to the right. We follow in Indian file, and at about half a mile
distant we come upon the kangaroo lying dead, with the second dog, old
"Ugly," stretched at its side.
The kangaroo usually found in the Peninsula is not the largest
description commonly known in these colonies as the "boomer," or a
"forester," but the brush kangaroo, which rarely exceeds seventy
pounds in weight; forty is more common. There is a still smaller
variety, known as the "wallaby." The brush kangaroo is easily killed
by the dogs; a grip in the throat or loins usually suffices. The
boomer is a more awkward customer, and, if he can take to the water,
he shows fight, and availing himself of his superior height, he
endeavors to drown the dogs as they approach him. The kangaroo is a
graceful animal, but appears to most advantage when only the upper
part of his body is seen. His head is small and deer-shaped, his eyes
soft and lustrous, but his tapering superior extremities rise almost
pyramidally from a heavy and disproportioned base of hind legs and
tail.
The kangaroo dog never mangles his prey although fond of the blood,
with a portion of which he is always rewarded.
Jerry now threw himself on the ground beside the game, and, drawing
his _couteau de chasse_, commenced the operation of disemboweling.
After ripping up the belly, he thrust in his arm, and drawing out the
liver and a handful of coagulated blood, he invited the dogs to
partake of it. The carcass being gutted, some dry fern is thrust in,
the tail is drawn through the fore legs, and secured with a bit of
whipcord, and then the game is suspended over the shoulder--no
insignificant weight either. If the kangaroo be very heavy, the hind
quarters only are carried, but the skin being of some value, it is not
needlessly destroyed.
There is a peculiarity in the stomach of the kangaroo, which I have
not seen noticed in descriptions of that animal, but of which I have
assured myself by frequent personal observation. On opening the
stomach, even while still warm, the grass found in it is swarming with
small white worms, about a quarter of an inch in length, and not
thicker than a fine thread.
The entire contents of the stomach, even the most recently masticated
grass, and grass seems to be its only food, are equally pervaded with
these worms, which swarm in myriads, even where no signs of
decomposition are perceptible.
Resuming our progress, we presently heard a baying from the dogs, who
had again dispersed to hunt. On nearing the spot whence the noise
proceeded, we found them assembled round the trunk of a large tree, in
the hollow of which was a large wombat, a most unsightly brute, in
appearance partaking somewhat of the bear, the pig, and the badger. An
average sized one weighs sixty pounds. The head is flat, neck thick,
body large, legs short, eyes and ears small: the feet provided with
sharp claws for burrowing, three on the hind foot, and an additional
one on the fore foot. They make deep excavations in the ground, and
live chiefly on roots. The hide is very tough and covered with a
coarse wiry hair, and with this defensive armor, and his formidable
teeth and claws, the wombat is a customer not much relished by the
dogs. It was not till we had stunned our new acquaintance, as he stood
at bay in his den, by repeated blows of our sticks on his head, that
we were able to drag him out, and cut his throat.
The flesh is eatable, and I have heard that the hams are held in some
esteem, but cannot speak from personal experience. On the present
occasion none of our party was ambitious of the honor of carrying our
defunct friend during the day's march that we had before us; so I
contented myself with pocketing his four paws, and leaving the rest of
the carcass for formic epicures.
Our destination for the evening was Eagle Hawk Neck, or rather our
dining quarters were there fixed, for I proposed to be home some time
during the night; and, as we had some twelve miles of fatiguing
walking before us, we now circled round towards Flinders' Bay, whence
we were to follow the foot track to the "Neck."
It may readily be imagined that bush travelling in the Australian
colonies is often an intricate affair; long practice alone can give
one assurance and confidence. Few _habitues_ in the Peninsula think of
entering it without a pocket compass, flint, and steel, and even the
best bushmen have in their day been reduced to the greatest
extremities.
For our own part, our ambition never inclined to the adventurous task
of exploring the bush, content with the subordinate part of trusting
to the superior sagacity of the more experienced; and often have our
wonder and admiration been excited by the unerring judgment of our
guide, when there was neither sun to direct, nor any opening above or
around whereby to obtain a view of the surrounding country.
As we were approaching Flinders' Bay on our return, a kangaroo was
started some distance ahead of us; presently I observed an old dog,
who was wont to "run cunning," suddenly stop close in front of me. The
next moment the game, closely pursued, dropped in a bound, not six
yards from where I stood, and before he could rise again, old "Ugly"
had his prize by the throat. This proved to be a doe, and on examining
her pouch a foetus was found in it, perfectly detached as usual, and
about three inches and a half long. The generation, growth, and
alimentation of the foetus of the kangaroo and other marsupial animals
(ultra interine and detached from the parent, as it appears to be at
all stages,) is a mystery in physiology which has yet to be
unravelled.
A "medico" who was of our party, did not neglect this opportunity for
research. With a view to the investigation of the subject at leisure,
he dropped the foetus into his glove for conveyance home.
Outside the station of Flinders' Bay, we came upon a small limpid
stream, brawling over a rocky bed, which seemed a suitable place to
refresh the inner man with a sandwich, and a thimble full of Cognac.
Segars were then lighted, and, shouldering our game, we resumed our
route.
The sun was low, when we descended the steep hill whence we opened a
view of Eagle Hawk Neck and the Pacific, and after a long and toilsome
ascent of the "Saddle," by a path which abounded more in loose sharp
stones than any which it has been my misfortune to fall in with.
However, refreshment was at hand, which we were quite in condition to
appreciate, for we will back a day's kangarooing against any other
sport, for giving a zest both to victuals and drink.
Our host, C--, was famous for his kangaroo soup; this is made of the
tail of the animal, and when well prepared may vie with any oxtail,
if, indeed, it be not superior, having the advantage of a game flavor.
The flesh of the kangaroo resembles in taste and appearance that of
the hare, though drier and inferior in flavor when roasted. The only
part thus cooked is the hind quarter, which should be boned, stuffed,
and larded, and after all, the play is not worth the candle. Not so,
"kangaroo steamer." To prepare this savory dish, portions of the hind
quarter, after hanging for a week, should be cut into small cubical
pieces; about a third portion of the fat of bacon should be similarly
prepared, and these, together with salt, pepper, and some spice, must
simmer gently in a stewpan for three or four hours. No water must
enter into the composition, but a little mushroom ketchup added, which
served, is an improvement.
Although averse to the diet of bush vermin, so often extolled in these
colonies, and although carefully eschewing all parrot pies, red-bill
ragouts, black swans, kangaroo rats, porcupines, and such vaunted
nastinesses, we strongly contend for the excellence of "kangaroo
steamer," as a most savory and appetizing dish. We cannot reproach it
with a fault, save its tendency to lead one to excess; the only
difficulty is to know when you have had enough.
We were able to do ample justice to the the Alexander Selkirk of his
post, reigning in solitary grandeur, for he had not a single associate
within ten miles, could always boast of a well-stocked larder and
cellar. What with his garden, poultry-yard, and dairy, hunting and
sea-fishing, he was tolerably independent of the tri-weekly visits of
the boat which brought the commissariat supplies.