Nearly an hour passed, and the watcher, tired, wet, and worn out, was
thinking of the snug fire on the mountain-side, and the tent pitched
near it; for certainly he had passed through quite sufficient danger and
emotion for one night at least, when several spotted hyenas came down to
drink. Some wild boar followed, and it was a strong temptation to the
hunter to fire, when a desperate fight took place between two old boars
close to him. The storm had quite passed away, cooling the heated air
in its passage; the moon and stars were shining brightly, and soon
bounding over the plain, with their peculiarly dancing motion, came a
herd of springbok. Moving along at a great pace, springing from the
ground into the air, and hardly seeming to touch the earth again for the
next bound, on came the graceful antelope euchore. Even in the day time
the motions of this animal are so quick, that the eye cannot follow its
bounds in their details, only realising the pace as a whole, but in the
clear, silvery moonlight, they seemed like a troop of fairy elves, to
the tired watcher, as they came dancing along over the African plain.
Dashing fearlessly into the water, the herd began to drink, with one
exception. An old buck, from whose gait the inference might have been
drawn that he had been previously wounded, stood sentinel on the bank.
There was meat and to spare in the camp, so the hunter only watched the
beautiful animals. The sentinel seemed to suspect danger, and was
fidgety and impatient. Was it possible he knew of the ambush? Captain
Hughes asked himself; and yet from his motions he could not but conclude
he did, when all at once a dark object sprang from the bush, and the
sentinel springbok was in a moment rolling on the ground, while the rest
of the herd were bounding madly over the plain in hurried flight. For a
few seconds, there seemed to be one rolling, writhing mass on the bank;
then the antelope lay still, and a panther, with its beautiful spotted
skin, walked down to the river. Before reaching the water, the animal
stopped and began licking and polishing its hide, disarranged in the
combat. Again the sharp report of the rifle was heard, and the panther,
with a convulsive bound, sprang into the bush, which it could be heard
tearing with its powerful jaws and claws in the death agony. Soon all
was again still, as scrambling out of the pit, the hunter crossed the
river, and advanced cautiously towards the carcass of the springbok,
finding it still quivering with muscular excitement, but quite dead.
Holding his rifle at full cock, slowly and deliberately he approached
the bush. The moonlight streamed over the painted hide of a large
panther, lying quite dead.
Leaving the carcass untouched, Captain Hughes managed to drag the deer
on one side, covering it in the thick undergrowth, and then once more
crossing the river determined never again to leave the brush growing
close to the mouth of his hiding-place. That which had been the
sentinel springbok's fate had certainly been his, if the panther had
come that side of the river.
The report of the rifle had doubtless frightened the deer around, for
fully two hours passed without anything coming to the water. The time
seemed very long, and the effect of the unusual excitement passing away,
the hunter again became drowsy. The position was a cramped one; the
first part of the night, before the thunderstorm had cooled the air, had
been hot and sultry; the breeze, heavily laden with the scent of the
flowers of the mobala trees, again came in hot puffs, bringing with it
the cry of the jackal and the hyena, and the other thousand noises of
animal life which so distinguish night from day among the wild plains of
Southern Africa. Still nearer to the watcher was to be heard the fall
of the water over its ledge of rock, the moaning of the wounded ape, and
once or twice, and that very distant, the roar of a lion. Spread out in
the moonlight lay the plain, stretching away towards the eastern coast,
watered by a small river, while to the right rose the chain of mountain
land in which the river took its rise, and whose slopes were dotted here
and there by what seemed large black patches of forest, principally
composed of trees exactly resembling the cedar. From one of these
patches there came every now and then the sound of the splintering of
wood, just as though a workman were felling timber. This noise was
quite inexplicable; and the baboon, too, was annoying, for not only did
it keep up its moaning, but would break off pieces of the branches, and
throw them at the hunter, generally with a certain aim. The time wore
wearily on, and Captain Hughes had just dozed off, when his attention
was suddenly roused by a noise like the bleating of a sheep. No animal
of any kind was in sight, and yet there it was, the low, plaintive
bleating of a sheep. It seemed to come from the bush, and presently,
out of it, came the beautiful painted body of a large snake, some
fourteen feet in length, gliding along with a gentle, sinuous motion,
and uttering from time to time the strange bleat. Gaining the foot of
the tree where the baboon was, it wound itself round the trunk, and
crept slowly up it. The moment the monkey caught sight of it dragging
its shining length upwards, it evinced a deadly fear. Slowly, but
surely, the nogaputsane neared its prey, while the unlucky animal
chattering and crying, seemed unable to escape. Moved by its distress,
the hunter raised his rifle, but just as he was about to fire the baboon
jumped from the tree, and leaping across the stream, seized one of the
branches of a young mimosa, swinging himself into it chattering with
fright. The large snake paused for a few minutes to look about it, soon
slowly descending, and then starting in pursuit, the nogaputsane came to
the river, which it did not like, and returned into the bush.
Time wore on; the interest of the night seemed past, and morning could
not be far off. Fairly tired out, the soldier began making his
arrangements for a return to camp, when he was stopped by seeing, or
thinking he saw, a black mass moving among the shadows on the hill-side,
where the sound of the splintering wood was heard. The cause of the
noise was now made evident, for moving along slowly, the watcher saw for
the first time the huge bulk of the African wild elephant. It was
advancing towards the river. Suddenly it stopped, and for a few moments
the hunter's heart beat quickly, thinking the chance lost, when,
trotting along in a lumbering fashion, there came from out of the shade
of the cedar and mashunga forests a second, but this time a young
elephant. On they came, right for the river, opposite the hiding-place,
the young one stopping from time to time, and then coming on at a trot
to rejoin its mother. They neared the river, the old elephant evidently
carefully examining every yard of ground before putting her huge foot
down. They passed under the tree where the baboon was hid, and the
spirit of mischief seemed to wake up in the wounded animal,
notwithstanding all that had happened to him that night. Breaking off a
large bough, jabbering loudly, and making the most diabolical faces, it
took aim at the young elephant, the wood hitting it a smart blow on the
trunk. The mother stopped dead, uttering a strange trumpeting sound,
then circling her trunk round the stem of the young tree, began to shake
it violently. The monkey, active as he was, nearly came to the ground,
holding on with difficulty, and crying loudly. Then the cracking of the
stem was heard, just as the baboon, loosing its hold, dropped on the
ground, and with one wild spring clambered into another tree, and swung
himself from branch to branch, jabbering and whining with fear.
Casting the sapling from it, the elephant, as if satisfied with the
lesson it had given, came down to drink. Coming to the spot where the
panther and springbok had struggled, and where the grass and reeds were
beaten down, the animal halted, evidently suspecting one of the native
traps, and kneeling down on the edge it struck the ground all round with
its trunk. It was now within thirty paces, but still the hunter's rifle
remained silent. Hoping to meet with an elephant, the heavier rifle was
loaded accordingly, the right-hand barrel with the usual ball, but the
left carrying one of Devisme's explosive cartridges. Not able to detect
anything wrong in the trampled ground, still the cautious creature would
not tread on it, but circling round, broke her way through the bush,
coming, as she did so, on the carcass of the dead panther. This she
examined very carefully, turning it over with her trunk, and it was only
when she had fully satisfied herself that it was dead, that she called
her little one to her side. Standing in the bed of the stream, the two
sucked in vast volumes of water, discharging it into their mouths, and
having satisfied their thirst, the old one began spouting the water over
the back of its young. Ever ready to fire, the hunter watched them, for
a quarter of an hour; but now the increasing coldness of the morning
warned him that dawn was at hand. The heavier rifle had not yet been
used. Taking a deliberate aim, he fired. For a moment the huge mass
stood firm and unmoved; the next, turning, the elephant crashed through
the bush towards the forest, the young one remaining standing in the
river, as though wondering what all the noise was about. Covering him
with the second barrel, and dreadfully vexed at his failure, Captain
Hughes was about to fire, when the larger elephant, missing its young,
stopped, and began calling it. Quickly changing his aim, the report of
the rifle rang out, the explosive ball striking the elephant behind the
shoulder, and taking an upward direction. Moving heavily forward, the
enormous bulk of the animal seemed to waver, and sway from side to side.
Once it fell on its knees, recovered itself, and then gained the
forest, disappearing with her young under the trees, the crash of
breaking wood making itself heard once, and then all was still. The
cries of the jackals and hyenas gradually ceased, the air became colder
and colder as the dawn appeared, the light of the moon paled, and the
noise of the falling water, with the occasional croak of a frog along
the river bank, were soon the only sounds disturbing the stillness of
the African plain, as, covered with the blood of the wounded baboon,
soiled with wet and sand, his limbs stiff with cold and watching, as
well as worn out with excitement, the weary hunter took his way up the
mountain slopes, to where he knew he should find the camp.
Volume 1, Chapter VIII.