Masheesh had been deputed by Mozelkatse to accompany them, and there was
now nothing to stay their progress northward. The country, too, at the
foot of the mountains, was comparatively bare of game, so early the
following morning the small party outspanned, and took their way across
the plain to strike the banks of the Limpopo.
"How easily the Matabele falls into our ways!" said Wyzinski; as on the
morning of the second day after leaving the mountains, the two were
riding about half a mile ahead of the waggon, which was coming lumbering
along behind them, the shouts of the drivers and the cracking of the
long whip reaching their ears.
"It seems strange to see him take the management of our people, and at
the same time associate himself with us on a footing of perfect
equality," replied Hughes, "he a half-naked and totally uneducated
savage."
"Turn it the other way, Hughes; he is a chief in the land, known and
respected; we are strangers, with nothing but the white man's prestige
placing us at all on the footing of his equal. Masheesh is naturally
the leader of our party, and is responsible to his chief for our safety.
It is on this I rely."
The Matabele rode well, and he now came dashing along bestriding a small
horse which had been given him. He disdained the use of a saddle, and
as he came along at full speed, his ostrich feather streaming on the
wind, the loose panther skin floating behind, and his long black legs
nearly touching the ground, there was something grotesque and yet
striking in his appearance. He held his slender assegai in his hand.
Dashing up to the two in front, he checked his horse suddenly, bringing
it instantly to a standstill, and sending the ground and grit beneath
its hoofs flying into the air. Bending down over its shoulder, the
savage pointed with the spear head to some marks on the earth, and then
looking up into the soldier's face, uttered some words in a low guttural
tone, and laughed.
"The track of elephants," said the missionary, who spoke the Zulu
tongue, though imperfectly. In a moment Hughes was off his horse, and
stooping low as he examined for the first time the footprint of the
mighty denizen of the African forests. Masheesh rode on, and in a few
moments, a low guttural cry was heard, and the Matabele was seen,
halting under a tree, and signing with his spear for the rest to come
on. The path had led through a forest, the trees not growing thickly
together, but at intervals, and now and then broken by rich undulating
plains. Following the direction of the chief's assegai, the two halting
by his side under the shade of the mohunno trees, saw stretched before
them the winding silver line of the Limpopo, one of the favourite
hunting grounds of the Bazizulu.
Herds of antelope, and of hartebeest, were feeding over the vast plain.
They could be counted by thousands, and it was indeed a glorious sight
for the hunter's eye, that vast undulating plain, whose gentle rises
concealed the distance, and were covered with rich pasture, over which
were feeding great herds of cattle, who owned no master. About five
miles distant the line of the Limpopo bordered by trees, was seen
glistening through the foliage as it sparkled in the morning sun. To
the right and close to them a large snake was curling along the ground
like a big black sinuous branch, making off for the shelter of the wood,
while a troop of monkeys over head were grinning and chattering at the
intruders, and flights of parrots were screaming among the branches.
A sense of wildness and of vastness creeps over those who look upon
these wide plains in their native grandeur and stillness--a feeling of
freedom, and of liberty, and at the same time of respect and adoration
for the great Creator of all. Deeply feeling this for several minutes,
the three gazed in silence, then as the distant shout of the drivers
came on the breeze, the nearest troops of antelope stopped feeding,
raised their heads, sniffed the air, and moved off--the next taking
alarm in the same way--until the whole plain, far as the eye could roam,
was covered with droves of antelope, galloping here and there, and
crossing each other in wild confusion. It looked like an intricate and
mazy dance, the performers in the wild ballet on the plains of South
Africa being the antelope.
"His are the cattle on a thousand hills," exclaimed the missionary,
breaking silence at last, and reverently uncovering himself.
"Some of them shall be mine before long," replied the matter-of-fact
soldier; "if you will get the chief to ride back and stop those fellows
shouting."
"I'll do so myself," answered the missionary. "I will halt them here,
give you an hour's advance, and then move straight forward for the
Limpopo, where we will outspan. We want meat in the camp."
"And shall have it. Come along, Masheesh," cried Hughes, elated beyond
measure, and letting the Arab he rode feel the spur, he dashed away
followed by the Matabele brandishing his assegai. It looked very easy
to procure meat among such countless herds, but an hour of violent
exertion proved it was not so. The Arab was untrained, could not be
brought to a standstill instantly, and was fidgety, so that it was
impossible to aim from the saddle. Shy and timid, the hartebeest moved
along in herds seldom exceeding ten in number, ever led by some old and
cautious buck.
Of a yellowish orange colour, striped with black under the horns and
down the forehead, they had seemed heavy, lumbering animals. The thighs
and extremities were tinged with black, and the horns most curiously
formed, curving at first backward and outward, but subsequently sweeping
inwards, the eyes being like most of the antelope tribe, large and full.
Ever on the watch, the hunters quite failed to get near them, and just
as after long and cautious labour, they would be almost within shot,
away would scamper the herd, in Indian file, and clumsy and ungainly as
they were in their movements, all attempts to cut them off utterly
failed. Convinced at last of the impossibility, Hughes followed the
advice given him by the Matabele, and, dismounting, concealed himself
behind a clump of trees, Masheesh, Luji, and others of the hunters who
had now found them, making a long sweep to drive the antelope towards
him. This at last proved successful.
A herd of hartebeest came cantering along, the leader pausing within ten
paces of the clump where he lay hid. The moment sufficed, as a ball
crashed through his skull, and he fell heavily, stone dead. The herd
instantly turned to fly, but not before another shot had bowled over a
second deer.
The buck was a noble animal, measuring seven feet ten inches from the
nose to the base of the tail, and carrying a splendid pair of horns, one
foot ten inches in height; the second being a female, and consequently
much smaller in every respect. The deer were slung across the horses
and sent to camp, where they proved a most seasonable supply, and after
a rest under the trees the hunters prepared to follow. Before them lay
a green rise, hardly to be called a hill, and yet high enough to conceal
the country beyond. Masheesh, no longer dressed in his savage finery,
but quite nude save a hide girded round his loins, was stalking on some
paces in advance, the soldier following and looking with a covetous eye
at the troops of deer which he could not approach. Suddenly, Masheesh
threw himself flat on his face, as though he had been shot, motioning to
the other to do the same. Cautiously and noiselessly the two dragged
themselves up the rise, and peeping over its crest, saw spread out
before them a rich undulating valley, the grass land broken here and
there by groves of mimosa trees, a small river wandering through it on
its way to join the Limpopo. The country of the Batonga lay mapped
before them, while far to the westward rose the hills of the Drakenburgh
range.
Feeding, not five hundred yards from the crest of the rise, was a herd
of strange animals. The head and breast had the appearance of buffalo
on a small scale, the horns of the males being enormous and very
dangerous looking. Twisting spirally downwards when starting from the
head, they then curved upwards like a hook. The head and chest were
covered with dark shaggy hair, the eyes looking fiercely from under the
tangled covering. The shoulders and neck carried a mane like that of a
horse, while the remainder of the body and hind quarters were those of a
pony, except the tail, which was that of a cow, and the legs, which were
those of an antelope.
These strange animals seemed full of fun. Tossing their shaggy, fierce
looking heads, one would leave the rest, tear round in a ring at full
gallop, and then dash into the centre of the herd, pulling up suddenly.
Captain Hughes seemed lost in contemplation, but Masheesh, laying his
hand on his shoulder, signed to him to come away, and both letting
themselves slide down the slope, the herd remained quite unconscious of
their presence.
The two were silent for some time, but when the savage deemed they were
far enough distant to allow of it without giving the alarm, he spoke
rapidly enough. Luji coming up at the moment, Hughes learned that the
strange animals were gnus, and a whispered conversation followed, it
being agreed that under cover of the crest, or green ridge, Hughes and
Masheesh should gain the outlet of the valley, while Luji and Noti were
to make a long detour, and coming down the wind, drive the herd before
them.
The savage carefully posted his companion, and then pointing to a bend
in the valley, about forty paces distant, uttered some sentences
volubly, and going away buried himself in a neighbouring thicket. All
seemed dead silence, and the watcher soon grew weary of it. A quarter
dragged itself on into half an hour, and still nothing save the deep
silence of the African plain. Suddenly the soldier who had been
watching the serried ranks of the ants as they marched along in
countless numbers, ever in a straight line, became conscious of a clump
of bushes, at the bend of the valley to which Masheesh had pointed,
which certainly was not there a quarter of an hour before. The bush had
a curious motion, and Captain Hughes concluded there was some wild
animal concealed therein--a lion probably, watching the distant herd,
and by its presence hindering the gnus coming. His rifle on full cock,
firmly grasped in his hands, he eagerly watched the bush. Yes, it
certainly moved, slowly but surely.
Raising the deadly rifle, the hunter took a deliberate aim right into
its centre. Just as the finger was about to pull the trigger, the
thought flashed over him, that if it concealed a lion and the fire were
not fatal, the risk would be great. Lowering the weapon, he watched the
bush intently, determining to wait till the lion made its spring, or to
fire if he could get a glimpse of the animal. An hour had passed, and
the temptation returned in full force.
The dead deep silence weighed upon him, the strange motions of the bush
made him nervous. Again the rifle was raised, when a loud trampling
noise was heard, as with their heads down and their spiral horns
glittering in the sun, the troop of gnus came on at top speed. A more
ferocious-looking lot could hardly be imagined, as they headed dead down
the valley. Still the hunter's attention was divided, and more
engrossed with the bush than with the game. The gnus rapidly neared it,
urged on by the shouts of Noti, while Luji's voice was plainly to be
heard far away in rear. They were close to it; about to pass in safety,
when a piercing yell rang from the bush, and a bright spear glancing in
the sunshine struck the leading gnu, while Masheesh, casting his leafy
covering, sprang to his feet. The report of the soldier's rifle
followed, and one of the herd rolled heavily forward, breaking its horns
in the impetus of the fall. The animal struck by the spear halted at
once, stamping violently with its forefoot, and lowering its head for
the charge. The savage stood awaiting it, his knobstick in his left
hand, the long glittering dagger in his right, tall, erect, and
fearless, the very picture of a dusky brave. With an angry snort the
bull rushed on, but the savage stepped lightly aside, and the steel sank
deep into the flesh near the spine. Again the gnu turned to charge, for
a moment hesitating, as it lowered its shaggy head, but at that instant
a ball from the deadly English rifle struck right between the eyes, and
it fell heavily close to Masheesh, the blood gushing from its mouth. It
was a much larger one than that first killed, when measured proving
fully seven feet four inches from the top of the nose to the base of the
tail. The horns were one foot ten inches in length, and the animal
stood at least four feet in height at the shoulder. The hoof, as
Captain Hughes and the delighted Masheesh stood beside the carcass,
seemed too large for the legs, and the knee joints were covered with a
hard substance like those of a tame ox. In fact the animal seemed to
resemble much the half-wild oxen of India, and, before it charged, the
wounded gnu pawed with the forefoot, tossing its head exactly as a wild
bull would have done. Hughes now learned that the natives regularly
hunt the antelope and zebra in the way Masheesh had done that day, whole
herds feeding carelessly up to the supposed bush, but on this occasion
the concealed man had run unconsciously a terrible risk.
The sun was sinking towards the west--telling that it was time to strike
the river, by whose banks the rest of the party had outspanned; so
leaving Luji, Noti, and one of the Kaffirs to cut up and bring in the
meat, the two stepped out for the Limpopo. Any fatigue, any privation
Masheesh would endure, but even such manual labour as that of cutting up
the carcasses of the slain he utterly disdained. It was sunset when the
camp was at last reached, and there a messenger from Mozelkatse was
found.
"It would appear," said the missionary, who was busy preparing some
skins of birds he had shot, "that a strong party of the Matabeles have
joined their king."
"Well, all I can say is, a good wash and something to eat are of more
importance to me just now than all the kings in the world. You don't
know how tired I am, and then nothing to eat besides."
"Look at Masheesh, whom you called an uneducated savage this morning,"
replied Wyzinski, pointing towards the individual named, who after a
drink of water had quietly seated himself, not even noticing the runner
of his people, and was smoking, varying the amusement with an occasional
pinch of snuff, and waiting calmly until some meat should be cooked by
some one, he cared not by whom, provided he had nothing to do with it.
"Well, I suppose you don't want me to smoke and take snuff as proofs of
civilisation."
"You have heard of the man, have you not, who thanked God he had at
least reached a civilised country on seeing a gibbet? However,"
continued Wyzinski, "yonder runner brings us an invitation from
Mozelkatse, to join a great hunt in which the tribe is taking part on
the banks of the Limpopo."
"That will be worth seeing. And when is it to take place?" asked
Hughes, forgetting hunger and fatigue.
"To-morrow."
"Accept it, by all manner of means."
Masheesh was interrupted in the tobacco-smoking process. The runner,
who since his arrival in camp, had been gorging himself with meat, was
sent back; great steaks and collops of venison cut from the hartebeest
were grilling on the clear wood fire, and soon the howling of the
hyenas, as they tore the bones of what had been left behind of the two
gnus, as not worth bringing away, were the only sounds which disturbed
the quiet of the little camp on the banks of the Limpopo.
Early morning saw the whole party afoot.
"Had we not better send Luji back to the tent?" said Hughes, as the
morning light becoming clearer, they looked back from the crest of a
rise, and saw it shining in the early sunbeams.
"We shall need him as an interpreter, perhaps. I can just manage, and
that is all, to be understood," replied Wyzinski; "everything is safe.
Noti will keep a look-out."
"See, there are a lot of Matabeles," exclaimed Hughes. "They are quite
naked, and have bows and arrows."
"And there are more. Look in what numbers they are turning out! Yonder
fellows have flint musquets: where did they get them, Luji?" asked the
missionary.
"The Portuguese on the Zambesi--him sell, Master," was the answer.
And now detachment after detachment came on, spreading out across the
country, like infantry skirmishers, some carrying only spears, others
bows and arrows, and a few, a very few, musquets, but always in line:
shouting, yelling, and driving everything before them. Soon the
antelope came bounding past, endeavouring to escape, but were driven
back again, as the long line of savages, throwing forward the two
flanks, enclosed them in a crescent miles in length, and drove them back
on the river. Herds of koodoos, eland, and hartebeest came scouring
along, attempting to break through in vain, while the painted zebra, the
graceful leche, with its long tapering horns, were remorselessly driven
back by the yells and shouts of the Matabele.
"I suppose we must find Mozelkatse. Tell Masheesh of our wish, Luji,"
said the missionary. He alone of the whole party was mounted, being
weak from the effects of fever, and as he spoke, they topped the crest
of one of the green ridges so common to the undulating plains bordering
the Limpopo, and on passing it the whole party were stopped by the
presence, right in their path, of a huge rhinoceros.
He was quietly standing under a tree, apparently studying the landscape,
and not seeming to think of the distant noise. At the foot of the tree
rose one of those curious structures, the nest of the African ant, while
a strange little animal, covered with thickly-plated scales of a
yellowish tint, the under part of the belly only being undefended, was
busy feeding on the ant-hill. In length the ant-eater was not more than
three feet, and it was engaged shooting out its tongue into the heap,
which tongue, being covered with some glutinous substance, always
returned black with ants. The spot was comparatively quiet, for the
time at least, and the rhinoceros did not seem in the least alarmed. He
was a huge, heavy, massive creature, of a pale brown colour, carrying
two horns, one very long and pointed, the second short, strong, but
blunt. The longer one rose just above the tip of the nose, and seemed a
most dangerous arm. Above the shoulders was a kind of hump. An uglier
brute certainly could not have barred the path which ran towards the
river; but the moohoohoo would have been perhaps inoffensive had not
Masheesh, confiding, doubtless, in the power of the English rifle, crept
towards him, throwing his spear. The weapon struck fairly and well, but
glanced from the tough hide as though it had been hurled against a brick
wall, and being made of the soft native iron, it literally curled up
with the force of the blow. Having thrown his spear, which elicited
only a wrathful grunt from the animal, Masheesh bolted, just as the huge
mass put itself in motion, advancing straight up the path. Luji and the
rest disappeared among the reeds and bushes, but Captain Hughes had just
time to fire, the ball glancing from the mailed coat like a child's
marble.
"Look out!" shouted the missionary; but it was too late, and the next
moment the unlucky soldier was lying on the ground, with the enormous
bulk of the rhinoceros standing over him.
"Lie still, for God's sake," cried Wyzinski, as he unslung the heavy
rifle, seeing that the animal did not strike at the fallen man. He was
just in the act of raising it to his shoulder, when, attracted by the
horse, the moohoohoo suddenly charged, the long pointed horn literally
burying itself in the pony's flank, just behind the rider's leg, the
rifle harmlessly exploding as horse and rider rolled over. Not pausing
for a second blow, the enraged brute drove on, eventually shambling
through the line of natives, who opened their ranks gladly to let him
pass.
Rising unwounded, but sorely shaken, Hughes extricated the missionary.
"Are you hurt, Wyzinski?" he asked, anxiously.
"Not a bit," was the reply; "but look at the poor grey."
"He is past saving," answered Hughes; and it was evident it was so, for
so frightfully had the sharp horn done its work, that the entrails were
hanging out, and the animal fast bleeding to death.
Placing his revolver to the pony's head, the report rang out; a few
convulsive movements, and the carcase of the horse lay still.
"Where is Masheesh?" enquired Hughes, as he returned the smoking weapon
to his belt. "If it had not been for his nonsense, that pistol-shot
would have been saved."
Wyzinski had seated himself on the grass, for the whole thing had passed
so quickly, that it was difficult to realise the danger.
Slowly stalking out of the bushes, Masheesh, as though nothing had
happened, gravely walked to the foot of the tree, took up the ant-eater
which, alarmed at the noise, had rolled itself up like a hedgehog, and
brought it to where the missionary was seated.
"What on earth does he want with that hedgehog?" asked Hughes. The
Matabele, speaking quickly, and in an excited voice, looked up at the
missionary as he did so, pointing to the little animal.
"He says it is a great prize," returned the other, "and consoles him for
the loss of his spear. It appears that these ant-eaters are scarce, and
the possession of one guarantees its owner against loss or sickness
among his cattle."
"The loss of his cattle! He nearly lost our lives for us, confound
him," replied Hughes, with some show of humour. "He don't seem to think
of that."
"A native never does, it is not in their nature, and life is held very
cheap. Look at yonder group moving over the plain in a line with that
stunted acacia. The king Mozelkatse must be among them."
"Can you walk, do you think, Wyzinski?"
"Oh, yes. I'm a good deal shaken, but that will wear away. Let us join
the king."
The rifles were loaded, and the whole party moved off once more, leaving
the carcase of the grey pony lying in a pool of blood where it had
fallen, to become a prey to the jackals and hyenas, those scavengers of
the African plains.
Mozelkatse, in a state of nudity nearly as complete as that of his
subjects, was in high good humour, and welcomed them warmly. The hunt,
he told them, promised well, and a vast number of deer of all kinds were
hemmed in between the horns of the living crescent. He motioned them to
take their places by the side of the trap, or barricade, into which the
herds were to be forced. Masheesh temporarily left them to place his
prize, the ant-eater, in safety; and as the line of beaters was still
far distant, there was ample time to examine the stockade.
The whole was something like a lobster-trap without a top, or like one
of the salmon weirs to be found running out into the sea on the Welsh
coast. It was made of stout branches driven deeply into the ground,
with lighter ones interlaced horizontally between the upright poles.
The opening was at least fifty paces in breadth, gradually narrowing,
and as the horns of the living crescent drew inwards, it was the only
outlet for the frightened game. It led to a deep square pit, which must
have taken the tribe long to dig, whose sides were quite smooth and
perfectly steep. Once in it, the deer could not get out, and towards
this all the game was being driven. The process was a slow one, and it
was afternoon before the long line of the Matabele approached. It was a
curious sight. The shouts, screams, and yells of the men as they drove
before them antelopes of all kinds, and then the excitement of those
near the trap, as herd after herd would come down, find the barricade,
and, suspecting danger, turn back. At first the different animals kept
to themselves, but as the circle narrowed, quaggas, zebras, antelope of
various forms would become mixed together, while the Matabele would rush
among them, brandishing their long spears, and frantically striking
their ox-hide shields, shrieking, howling, and spearing right and left,
until the affrighted wretches, surrounded on every side by the yelling
savages, took the only outlet left them, and dashing madly down the path
between the stockades, leaped wildly into the pit, falling pell mell in.
On they came, quaggas, koodoos, springbok, hartebeest, the shouting and
spearing becoming wilder. Hundreds turned, and forced their way through
the ever narrowing circle of yelling Matabele, the spears sticking in
their bloody hides, while fuller and fuller became the pit, until it was
heaped with the dead, dying, and maimed. There was the
ferocious-looking gnu, the painted hide of the zebra, the
graceful-limbed springbok, the long spiral horned leche, all heaped
together in one boiling, seething mass of pain and suffering, the
Matabele above, with savage cries, spearing those who in their agony
tried to climb the sides of the pit, while still the yelling savages
continued driving herd after herd, until, like the fire worshippers'
trap, in Moore's beautiful poem, the pit was full and would hold no
more. There was high feasting in the Matabele camp that night, for the
hunt had been most successful, and the slaughter immense; but it was
with feelings of pleasure the travellers had a farewell interview with
Mozelkatse, and then passing among the dancing, singing savages, took
their way across the plain, lighted by a brilliant moon, to their quiet
camp by the side of the Limpopo.
Volume 1, Chapter VI.