Chapter Fourteen.Tracked by an Enemy.They did not have a long sleep, for Mr Rogers soon roused them to say that breakfast was ready; which meal being discussed, the oxen were in-spanned, and the horses mounted, so as to have a good long trek towards the Limpopo, or Crocodile River, before the heat of the day.Before leaving their camp the boys had a good look round with the General, in the expectation and hope of seeing the lion at which Jack had shot, lying dead. But though he felt certain that he had hit the monster, and though footprints were about in all directions, there was no dead lion, and they had to hope for better luck the next time.“I don’t care,” said Jack discontentedly; “I’m as sure as can be that this gun don’t shoot straight.”“Try again, Jack,” said his father, laughing.And on they walked, over what was now a plain covered with great coarse, reedy grass, such as would afford plenty of cover for game.This, however, was scarce, and beyond the boys knocking down three or four large birds of the partridge kind, there was very little done.The General, for some reason which he did not explain, had taken his great Zulu shield from where it hung behind one of the waggon-wheels, and, armed with a couple of assegais, kept making expeditions to right and left—and quite as often hung back, watchfully keeping an eye to the rear.It was a case of man’s cunning against that of a beast; andafter being away some hours, he came up with the not very pleasant information that a huge lion, one of the ferocious maneless kind, was tracking the waggon, and would no doubt hang upon their trail until it had pounced upon one of the horses, and carried it off.“Oh, that would be horrible,” cried Jack. “I’d almost sooner that he would take me than my horse.”“Have you seen it, General?” said Dick; “or do you think it is following us, from its footprints?”“I have seen it,” said the General gravely. “I felt sure from some footmarks I had seen that some great beast was following us—one of those that scented the horses last night. Once or twice I thought the steps might be those of some lion that had passed this way; but, after watching, I found them so often that at last I lay down amongst the long grass, covered myself with my shield, and waited. It was very, very long, and nothing came, and I thought again that I was mistaken; but I knew that if it was a lion, tracking down the horses and bullocks, he would come close between the wheel marks of the waggon, and there slay.”“And did you mean to kill him, General?” said Dick eagerly.“One man cannot kill a lion with an assegai, Boss Dick,” said the Zulu, “and live afterwards and hunt with his friends. It takes the little bullet from a gun to kill a lion well, for you can stand and shoot farther off than a lion can spring. No, I only wanted to know and be sure; and if I was sure I said, Boss Dick or Boss Jack will shoot him. So I waited till I thought he would not come, and then I was going to follow the waggon, when I heard something come steal—steal—steal along; and when at last I looked from under my shield, there he stood amongst the grass, close to me, watching the waggon. If I had stood up I could have speared him; but I was lying down, and if I had tried to get up he would have sprung upon me, the great thing; so I held the shield more over me, like an animal with a shell, and crept a little way on to meet him, and then made a jump at him, and he roared and dashed away.”“But why didn’t he seize you?” said Jack.“He did not see I was a man, and he did not understand what the long thing with black legs was that jumped at him; and a lion is big and strong, but he is a coward about what he does not understand.”“And have you frightened him right away?” asked Dick. “Fancy frightening away a lion!”“No,” said the Zulu; “only a little way. He is following the waggon now, crawling softly through the grass; and I am sure it is the one Boss Jack has shot last night, for there was a mark and blood upon his forehead. It is a great lion, with no mane; and he is savage and wild, and will follow the waggon always till he is killed. We must kill that lion soon.”“An’ is he following us up, Muster Gineral?” said Dinny, who had heard some of the last words.The Zulu nodded; and Dinny looked from one to the other with such a look of hopeless dread in his countenance, that even Mr Rogers could not forbear to smile.“Sure it’s the onsafest place I iver came noigh, sor; and it’s not meself that will stir away from the front of the waggon till that great baste is killed.”The General’s account of his proceedings, and his conversation as a rule, was not in the plainest of English, so it is more convenient to give it in ordinary colloquial form; but he was very earnest, and tried hard to make himself understood.When Mr Rogers consulted him as to the best means of getting rid of so unpleasant a follower, the Zulu said that the only way would be to ride on in front of the waggon, and then suddenly strike off to right or left, form a wide curve, and ride inward so as to strike the track of the waggon quite a mile behind.By this means, the General said, they would probably get a shot at the monster as he was crawling furtively after the horses, and probably bring it down.“It is a risk,” said Mr Rogers thoughtfully; “but it will be impossible for us to go on with an enemy like that always in our wake.”“When do you think he will try to attack us, General?” said Dick.“When the sun has gone down, Boss, and the horses and oxen are having their evening feed.”“And he might take my beautiful Shoes,” said Dick.“Or my lovely old Stockings,” cried Jack, quite unconscious of how absurd his words sounded.“We shall have to follow out the Zulu’s plan, my boys,” said Mr Rogers; “and the sooner we try the better.”The midday halt was called by a beautifully transparent pool of water, where some richly succulent grass awaited the cattle, and which for some hours they cropped, the heat being intense, and any object exposed to the full power of the sun soon becoming hot enough to burn the hand.Hot as it was, Dinny, being assured that the lion was not likely to attack in open daylight, lit a roaring fire, and soon had the pot simmering with its rich thick meat gravy, a basin round of which, and a portion of a cake made and baked upon an iron plate brought for the purpose, formed their dinner.Then there was a siesta, and at last, the most fiery hours being gone by, broad-brimmed straw hats were taken from the waggon—for it was still intensely hot—and the Zulu undertaking to lead the team on between two mountains through which the broad valley ran, the horses were saddled, rifles taken, and father and sons mounted to go on what might prove to be a very dangerous adventure.The first thing done was to carefully take in the bearings of the country, and then, after a few words of advice from the General—whom Mr Rogers would have liked to have, only his presence was necessary with the waggon, he being the most trustworthy of their followers—they rode on at a brisk canter through the crisp long grass, and amongst the bushes, and always onward towards the head of the valley, where, towering up, stood the twin mountains, which were like the ends of a couple of ridges or chains.Scrupulously following out the General’s advice, they struck off to the left, and taking quite a two-mile circuit, they saw the waggon crawling along in the distance, while they cantered on, feeling wonderfully free and light in spite of the heat, till they were a long distance behind the waggon, when they halted and carefully swept the surface of the country.“Nothing in sight,” said Mr Rogers.“I hope we shan’t have our trip for nothing, father,” replied Dick.“Are you eager to meet with the lion, then?” said his father, smiling.“I don’t know, father; but I should like to shoot him,” replied Dick quietly.“Well, my boys, I hope we shall shoot the animal; and as we are now a couple of miles at least behind the waggon, if he is following it he should be before us now, so come along.”Rifles were cocked, and every eye carefully scrutinised the dry drabby-yellow grass through which the lion would be stealing its way, and so much like the withered stems in colour that, unless moving, it was quite possible to miss seeing such a creature as they rode along.The plan arranged was, that no sooner was the lion sighted than they were all to dismount, and fire as opportunity occurred, loading again as rapidly as possible for a second shot.But though they followed steadily on in the waggon track, riding all three abreast, and scanning every clump and bush, they had approached the bend of the valley without seeing anything but a few bok, which offered tempting marks now that they did not want to shoot.The waggon had evidently passed through the opening, for it was quite out of sight, and the sinking sun was casting long shadows. So at last Mr Rogers grew impatient and spoke out,—“We had better ride on, my boys, and catch the waggon. I want to halt early and form a good stout fence for our protection. We shall see no—”“Lion!” said Dick sharply. “Dismount.”He threw himself from his horse on the instant, and stood ready to fire, his father and brother imitating his example.“Where?” said Mr Rogers quietly. “I see nothing, Dick.”“There,” replied Dick, “fifty yards away, stealing through those thick sedgy grasses. Don’t you see?”“Yes,” said his father, “I see the monster now. Keep cool, boys, and make your shots tell. If he is wounded and charges, you must stand firm and fire again.”Mr Rogers waited a few moments, during which the lion, a monstrous yellow, maneless fellow, was half-crawling, half-creeping, through the long sedgy grass; and at last he showed so plainly that Mr Rogers took careful aim, fired, and evidently hit, for the lion uttered a furious roar, and made a tremendous bound to escape, with the result that Dick’s cob started, and threatened to dash off; but a few words from its master calmed it; and taking advantage of the good view he had of the lion, Dick now fired, a shot from Jack’s rifle following directly after. But, so far from the monster being crippled, it ceased its efforts to escape, and turning, took a few steps forward, crouched like a cat, and then bounded at Jack.“Stand firm and fire!” cried Mr Rogers.Jack obeyed, and as he fired the lion was in the air launching itself at him, but falling short, rolling over upon its side, and beginning to tear and gnaw at the dry grass in its death agony.Mr Rogers approached, but drew back in favour of Dick.“Go and give it thecoup de grâce, my boy,” he said. “You may as well have the honour of killing the monster, for a monster it is.”Dick had replaced his empty cartridge with a full one, and was approaching boldly to fire the necessary shot, when, to his horror and astonishment, the lion rose, crouched, and showed its glistening teeth. But in spite of the terror that seized him he stood firm, took careful aim, fired, and with a savage roar, the lion rolled over, dead.It was indeed a monster, and its glistening fangs were very long, while upon examination there was the mark of Jack’s last night’s bullet, which had ploughed up the skin between the creature’s ears, though the wound was now half dry.The shots brought the Zulu into sight with his boys, for the waggon was halting at a pleasant spring at the foot of one of the mountains not a mile away, for here were wood and a good place for forming a kraal.The General and his sons raced down, and the boys danced round the lion and called it names. But there was no time to lose, and it was impossible to stop and skin the animal that night, so the General stuck some branches round it, and then led the way to camp, which was rapidly formed. And though they heard lions in the distance, they had a less disturbed night than the preceding one, greatly to the satisfaction of all, especially Dinny, who declared that it was a blessing that the lion was killed, for now they would be at peace.But Dinny was wrong, for there were other lions in the land.
They did not have a long sleep, for Mr Rogers soon roused them to say that breakfast was ready; which meal being discussed, the oxen were in-spanned, and the horses mounted, so as to have a good long trek towards the Limpopo, or Crocodile River, before the heat of the day.
Before leaving their camp the boys had a good look round with the General, in the expectation and hope of seeing the lion at which Jack had shot, lying dead. But though he felt certain that he had hit the monster, and though footprints were about in all directions, there was no dead lion, and they had to hope for better luck the next time.
“I don’t care,” said Jack discontentedly; “I’m as sure as can be that this gun don’t shoot straight.”
“Try again, Jack,” said his father, laughing.
And on they walked, over what was now a plain covered with great coarse, reedy grass, such as would afford plenty of cover for game.
This, however, was scarce, and beyond the boys knocking down three or four large birds of the partridge kind, there was very little done.
The General, for some reason which he did not explain, had taken his great Zulu shield from where it hung behind one of the waggon-wheels, and, armed with a couple of assegais, kept making expeditions to right and left—and quite as often hung back, watchfully keeping an eye to the rear.
It was a case of man’s cunning against that of a beast; andafter being away some hours, he came up with the not very pleasant information that a huge lion, one of the ferocious maneless kind, was tracking the waggon, and would no doubt hang upon their trail until it had pounced upon one of the horses, and carried it off.
“Oh, that would be horrible,” cried Jack. “I’d almost sooner that he would take me than my horse.”
“Have you seen it, General?” said Dick; “or do you think it is following us, from its footprints?”
“I have seen it,” said the General gravely. “I felt sure from some footmarks I had seen that some great beast was following us—one of those that scented the horses last night. Once or twice I thought the steps might be those of some lion that had passed this way; but, after watching, I found them so often that at last I lay down amongst the long grass, covered myself with my shield, and waited. It was very, very long, and nothing came, and I thought again that I was mistaken; but I knew that if it was a lion, tracking down the horses and bullocks, he would come close between the wheel marks of the waggon, and there slay.”
“And did you mean to kill him, General?” said Dick eagerly.
“One man cannot kill a lion with an assegai, Boss Dick,” said the Zulu, “and live afterwards and hunt with his friends. It takes the little bullet from a gun to kill a lion well, for you can stand and shoot farther off than a lion can spring. No, I only wanted to know and be sure; and if I was sure I said, Boss Dick or Boss Jack will shoot him. So I waited till I thought he would not come, and then I was going to follow the waggon, when I heard something come steal—steal—steal along; and when at last I looked from under my shield, there he stood amongst the grass, close to me, watching the waggon. If I had stood up I could have speared him; but I was lying down, and if I had tried to get up he would have sprung upon me, the great thing; so I held the shield more over me, like an animal with a shell, and crept a little way on to meet him, and then made a jump at him, and he roared and dashed away.”
“But why didn’t he seize you?” said Jack.
“He did not see I was a man, and he did not understand what the long thing with black legs was that jumped at him; and a lion is big and strong, but he is a coward about what he does not understand.”
“And have you frightened him right away?” asked Dick. “Fancy frightening away a lion!”
“No,” said the Zulu; “only a little way. He is following the waggon now, crawling softly through the grass; and I am sure it is the one Boss Jack has shot last night, for there was a mark and blood upon his forehead. It is a great lion, with no mane; and he is savage and wild, and will follow the waggon always till he is killed. We must kill that lion soon.”
“An’ is he following us up, Muster Gineral?” said Dinny, who had heard some of the last words.
The Zulu nodded; and Dinny looked from one to the other with such a look of hopeless dread in his countenance, that even Mr Rogers could not forbear to smile.
“Sure it’s the onsafest place I iver came noigh, sor; and it’s not meself that will stir away from the front of the waggon till that great baste is killed.”
The General’s account of his proceedings, and his conversation as a rule, was not in the plainest of English, so it is more convenient to give it in ordinary colloquial form; but he was very earnest, and tried hard to make himself understood.
When Mr Rogers consulted him as to the best means of getting rid of so unpleasant a follower, the Zulu said that the only way would be to ride on in front of the waggon, and then suddenly strike off to right or left, form a wide curve, and ride inward so as to strike the track of the waggon quite a mile behind.
By this means, the General said, they would probably get a shot at the monster as he was crawling furtively after the horses, and probably bring it down.
“It is a risk,” said Mr Rogers thoughtfully; “but it will be impossible for us to go on with an enemy like that always in our wake.”
“When do you think he will try to attack us, General?” said Dick.
“When the sun has gone down, Boss, and the horses and oxen are having their evening feed.”
“And he might take my beautiful Shoes,” said Dick.
“Or my lovely old Stockings,” cried Jack, quite unconscious of how absurd his words sounded.
“We shall have to follow out the Zulu’s plan, my boys,” said Mr Rogers; “and the sooner we try the better.”
The midday halt was called by a beautifully transparent pool of water, where some richly succulent grass awaited the cattle, and which for some hours they cropped, the heat being intense, and any object exposed to the full power of the sun soon becoming hot enough to burn the hand.
Hot as it was, Dinny, being assured that the lion was not likely to attack in open daylight, lit a roaring fire, and soon had the pot simmering with its rich thick meat gravy, a basin round of which, and a portion of a cake made and baked upon an iron plate brought for the purpose, formed their dinner.
Then there was a siesta, and at last, the most fiery hours being gone by, broad-brimmed straw hats were taken from the waggon—for it was still intensely hot—and the Zulu undertaking to lead the team on between two mountains through which the broad valley ran, the horses were saddled, rifles taken, and father and sons mounted to go on what might prove to be a very dangerous adventure.
The first thing done was to carefully take in the bearings of the country, and then, after a few words of advice from the General—whom Mr Rogers would have liked to have, only his presence was necessary with the waggon, he being the most trustworthy of their followers—they rode on at a brisk canter through the crisp long grass, and amongst the bushes, and always onward towards the head of the valley, where, towering up, stood the twin mountains, which were like the ends of a couple of ridges or chains.
Scrupulously following out the General’s advice, they struck off to the left, and taking quite a two-mile circuit, they saw the waggon crawling along in the distance, while they cantered on, feeling wonderfully free and light in spite of the heat, till they were a long distance behind the waggon, when they halted and carefully swept the surface of the country.
“Nothing in sight,” said Mr Rogers.
“I hope we shan’t have our trip for nothing, father,” replied Dick.
“Are you eager to meet with the lion, then?” said his father, smiling.
“I don’t know, father; but I should like to shoot him,” replied Dick quietly.
“Well, my boys, I hope we shall shoot the animal; and as we are now a couple of miles at least behind the waggon, if he is following it he should be before us now, so come along.”
Rifles were cocked, and every eye carefully scrutinised the dry drabby-yellow grass through which the lion would be stealing its way, and so much like the withered stems in colour that, unless moving, it was quite possible to miss seeing such a creature as they rode along.
The plan arranged was, that no sooner was the lion sighted than they were all to dismount, and fire as opportunity occurred, loading again as rapidly as possible for a second shot.
But though they followed steadily on in the waggon track, riding all three abreast, and scanning every clump and bush, they had approached the bend of the valley without seeing anything but a few bok, which offered tempting marks now that they did not want to shoot.
The waggon had evidently passed through the opening, for it was quite out of sight, and the sinking sun was casting long shadows. So at last Mr Rogers grew impatient and spoke out,—
“We had better ride on, my boys, and catch the waggon. I want to halt early and form a good stout fence for our protection. We shall see no—”
“Lion!” said Dick sharply. “Dismount.”
He threw himself from his horse on the instant, and stood ready to fire, his father and brother imitating his example.
“Where?” said Mr Rogers quietly. “I see nothing, Dick.”
“There,” replied Dick, “fifty yards away, stealing through those thick sedgy grasses. Don’t you see?”
“Yes,” said his father, “I see the monster now. Keep cool, boys, and make your shots tell. If he is wounded and charges, you must stand firm and fire again.”
Mr Rogers waited a few moments, during which the lion, a monstrous yellow, maneless fellow, was half-crawling, half-creeping, through the long sedgy grass; and at last he showed so plainly that Mr Rogers took careful aim, fired, and evidently hit, for the lion uttered a furious roar, and made a tremendous bound to escape, with the result that Dick’s cob started, and threatened to dash off; but a few words from its master calmed it; and taking advantage of the good view he had of the lion, Dick now fired, a shot from Jack’s rifle following directly after. But, so far from the monster being crippled, it ceased its efforts to escape, and turning, took a few steps forward, crouched like a cat, and then bounded at Jack.
“Stand firm and fire!” cried Mr Rogers.
Jack obeyed, and as he fired the lion was in the air launching itself at him, but falling short, rolling over upon its side, and beginning to tear and gnaw at the dry grass in its death agony.
Mr Rogers approached, but drew back in favour of Dick.
“Go and give it thecoup de grâce, my boy,” he said. “You may as well have the honour of killing the monster, for a monster it is.”
Dick had replaced his empty cartridge with a full one, and was approaching boldly to fire the necessary shot, when, to his horror and astonishment, the lion rose, crouched, and showed its glistening teeth. But in spite of the terror that seized him he stood firm, took careful aim, fired, and with a savage roar, the lion rolled over, dead.
It was indeed a monster, and its glistening fangs were very long, while upon examination there was the mark of Jack’s last night’s bullet, which had ploughed up the skin between the creature’s ears, though the wound was now half dry.
The shots brought the Zulu into sight with his boys, for the waggon was halting at a pleasant spring at the foot of one of the mountains not a mile away, for here were wood and a good place for forming a kraal.
The General and his sons raced down, and the boys danced round the lion and called it names. But there was no time to lose, and it was impossible to stop and skin the animal that night, so the General stuck some branches round it, and then led the way to camp, which was rapidly formed. And though they heard lions in the distance, they had a less disturbed night than the preceding one, greatly to the satisfaction of all, especially Dinny, who declared that it was a blessing that the lion was killed, for now they would be at peace.
But Dinny was wrong, for there were other lions in the land.
Chapter Fifteen.Good Practice for Gunners.The day had hardly broken before Coffee and Chicory were shouting at the opening of the waggon for Boss Dick and Boss Jack to “come and ’kin a lion.”They wanted but little rousing up, and after a good souse in the pure cool spring, that ran bubbling over and amongst some rocks with delicious-looking broad-fronded ferns drooping gracefully over, they went and rubbed their horses’ muzzles, patted their arched necks, and gave each a taste of sugar—for which Shoes and Stockings regularly looked now, and would follow their masters like dogs to obtain—they shouldered their rifles, and followed the General to the place where the lion lay.Rested and refreshed, everything around looked lovely, for they were at the head of a very fertile valley, where flowers bloomed in profusion, and the springs that rose in the sides of the mountains sent down moisture enough to keep miles of the country round of a perpetual green.“Plenty game here,” said Chicory, pointing to a bare, muddy spot by a water-hole.The General turned aside, and stooped down to look at the hundreds of footprints in the soft mud.“Koodoo,” he said, “eland, buffalo, bok, wildebeeste, quagga, zebra, lion,” and he pointed out in turn the spoor, or footprints, of the various beasts he named. “Yes, plenty of game here.”As they went on, the boys noticed the abundance of the pretty little whidah bird, a lovely little creature, about the size of a lark, but with a tail of such enormous length that in a breeze the power of the wind upon the tail drives the bird to take flight into shelter, so that it shall not be blown away. Pigeons in abundance flew over their heads, and parrots of such gaudy colours that Dick felt obliged to shoot three or four as specimens, to skin and add to their collection.But the lion pretty well filled the thoughts of all, and Jack was intensely eager to see the monster that he took to himself the credit of having shot.As they drew near the place where the adventure of the previous night had taken place, the verdure began to give place to brown, parched-up sedgy grass, and the boys could not help noticing how much it seemed to harmonise with the skin of the beast of prey they had slain.As they drew nearer there was no difficulty in finding the spot, for a party of great, dusky, bare-necked vultures were sitting about, gazing hungrily at the dead beast, but afraid to approach on account of the sticks and branches stuck about to imitate a trap.They were so near now that they could make out the shape of the lion amongst the dry grass, when, apparently always upon his guard, the General suddenly presented the point of his assegai. Coffee and Chicory said nothing, but they did the same; and Dick and Jack, fully under the impression that the lion had come back to life, cocked their rifles and stood ready to fire.Just then there was a low muttering growl, a moving of the long grass as if something was passing through, and a smooth-coated lion bounded into sight, gazing at them menacingly, and lashing its sides with its tail.Wisely or no, the boys’ rifles were at their shoulders on the instant, and they fired together as Coffee and Chicory threw their spears.There was a tremendous roar, a bound, a crash, and then silence, broken only by the clicking of the mechanism of the rifles, as the boys rapidly reloaded them with heavy ball.As the smoke cleared away the General beckoned Dick and Jack to his side, and they advanced cautiously through the grass, which they pushed aside with the assegai and the muzzles of the rifles, till they saw, a short distance off, the handle of an assegai sticking up.“There him is,” shouted Coffee; “my assegai!” And he seemed ready to run forward and get it, but was checked by a sign from his father.The young hunters raised their rifles to their shoulders, ready to fire again, at the sight of the lion; but the staff of the assegai did not even quiver; and, gaining confidence, the General went closer and parted the grass, for his young companions to fire.The next moment he had sprung forward, and shouted and waved his spear above his head; for there, upon its side, lay the lion, quite dead, the second within twenty-four hours.“That was your shot, Dick,” said Jack.“No, no: yours,” said Dick.“No; I felt as if I didn’t hit it far enough forward,” cried Jack. “But we’ll soon see.”“Ah, yah, yah! Inyami, Inyami!” shouted Coffee and Chicory; and they began to kick and bang the dead lion with their kiris, till their father stopped them, and bade one of them go and fetch Peter or Dinny to come and help to skin.As it proved, there was a bullet right in the centre of the second lion’s forehead, and another in the shoulder, which ball Jack claimed, so that Dick had, as he really deserved, the honour of shooting the monster, and he gazed with no little pride at its tremendous proportions.But big as it was, it was a lioness, and slighter in build than the tawny monster killed upon the previous evening, to which they now turned, looking in awe at its huge claw-armed paws, and legs one mass of muscle. There was something almost stupendous in the power that seemed to be condensed in its short thick neck, and broad deep shoulders, for, being one of the maneless kind every muscle of the neck, throat, and shoulders could be plainly seen.“Why, Jack, we should be like rats in the jaws of a cat if he took hold of us,” said Dick.“More need to practise our shooting. Dicky, I shall always aim at their eyes.”“I want to get back and tell father,” said Dick. “Oh, look! here he comes.”In effect, Mr Rogers, who had heard the firing, was coming on at a fast run, in dread lest anything should be wrong; but a smile of satisfaction appeared upon his face as he came up, and heard Dick’s joyful cry, “Father, I’ve shot a lion.”The skinning of the dangerous monsters was a tough job; but in the Zulu’s skilful hands it seemed comparatively easy, for he knew exactly where to divide the muscles to make the limbs give way, and how to thrust the point of his knife through various membranes; so that by breakfast-time, with the help of Peter, both trophies were removed, and borne to the camp in triumph.The place being so lovely, and game being evidently abundant, Mr Rogers decided to stay where they were for a day or two, especially as the work of making a kraal of thorns every night became an arduous task and there was nothing to be gained by hurrying through the wonderful country without stopping to examine its beauties.Then, too, the abundance of rich fine grass growing near the rivulets that came down from the mountains was invaluable for the oxen, which had begun to look a trifle thinner; and as the good patient beasts worked so willingly and well, it was a pleasure to see them knee-deep in grass, placidly munching away at the rich herbage, and in company with the horses.So holiday for the animals was proclaimed; Dinny, Peter, and Dirk were ordered to keep a watchful eye upon the grazing cattle, and Mr Rogers proposed a short walking, shooting, and natural-history-collecting expedition.Of course it was all nonsense, but Dick vowed that Rough’un went and told what was to be; for the dog, who had been looking at his masters with bright, intelligent eyes, suddenly jumped upon all fours and barked twice, after which he trotted off to where Pompey, Caesar, and Crassus were tied to the wheels of the waggon, put his nose to each, and barked; and in the place of a patient attack upon tormenting flies and fleas, the dogs leaped up, strained at their thongs, and barked and bayed furiously.“Let them loose, boys,” said Mr Rogers, to Coffee and Chicory, who ran to perform his orders, but found it hard work; for the dogs leaped at them, twisted the thongs between and round their legs, and upset them twice; while as soon as they were at liberty they seemed to have mutually agreed that this was one of the dog-days, and that it was their duty to go right off mad.Their antics were wonderful. First they rushed off as hard as they could tear, as if going straight back home to Mr Rogers’ farm; the next minute they were back, as if they had forgotten to kill Rough’un first, for they charged down upon him, rolling him over and over, biting, worrying, and tumbling upon him in the exuberance of their delight; while Rough’un retaliated by biting again, and getting such a good grip with his teeth on Pompey’s tail that this sturdy fellow dragged him for yards before Rough’un let go.Altogether, for a few minutes there seemed to be what Dick called a dog-storm, after which they all crouched down, with open mouths, starting eyes, and quivering tongue, staring at the preparations going on, and ready to be off.“Good old dogs! Old Pomp! old Caesar! What old Cras! Hi, Rough’un!” cried Jack, caressing all the dogs in turn, and patting their heads, with the effect of making them seize and pretend to worry him, seizing his legs, jumping up, and showing their delight in a dozen ways.Then the ammunition had to be obtained, satchels stored with provisions, Coffee and Chicory carrying a supply for their own and their father’s use; and when the grim-looking old warrior held up a warning finger at them and said they were not to eat the provisions, they brought a smile to his lips by running off together and pretending to devour the contents of the bag.At last all was ready, and after a few words of warning to Dinny and the others to be watchful, the little party started, Mr Rogers referring to a small compass he carried in his pocket, and taking the bearings of the two mountains, so as to be sure of their return.For though the General was with them there was always the possibility of being separated; and missing the way back in the great African wilds may mean missing one’s life.There was plenty to see. Flowers grew in abundance in the rich moist places; fleshy plants abounded in the sterile rocky parts; and in every shady niche the ferns were glorious. The trees alone were enough to satisfy any one with a love of beauty. Great candelabra-shaped euphorbias, with wondrous thorns and lovely scarlet blossoms; huge forest-trees that seemed to have lost their own individuality in the wreathing clusters of creeping flowering plants they bore. Everything was beautiful; and as they walked on in the glowing sunshine, they seemed to have come to one of the most glorious spots of earth.They had not proceeded far beside one of the little rivers that came bubbling down from the mountain they were approaching before Rough’un began to bark.Click,click, went Dick’s rifle.“Look, father, look! a crocodile!” cried Jack. “I wanted to see a crocodile.”There was a rush, a splash, and a scurry, and Rough’un came out of the water, looking about him and staring up at his masters, as if asking what they had done with the reptile he had chased.“It was not a crocodile, Jack, but a large water-lizard,” said Mr Rogers.“Plenty of crocodiles soon,” said the General, “big as three of me.”He marked off a space of about twenty feet upon the ground, to show the length the reptiles of which he spoke, and then roughly marked out their shape.“Not here,” he said; “over there.” And he pointed to the north.“Here’s another,” cried Dick.And this time it was Pompey and Caesar who had hunted out a reptile, which hissed, and snapped, and fought vigorously for a few moments when driven to bay, but its defiance was short lived.While the engagement went on, the reptile looked dragon-like in aspect, with its ruffled and inflated throat, serrated back, and writhing tail; but in a very short time the dogs had obtained the mastery, and the creature was examined, proving to be a kind of iguana, nearly six feet in length, a great deal of which, however, was the attenuated tail.The cracks and rifts in the hot bare stones as they climbed higher seemed to swarm with lizards of all kinds, ready to dart into their holes upon the approach of the dogs, while several times over the two Zulu boys came running back, beckoning to Dick and Jack to go and see some snake basking, twisted in a knot in some sunny spot.Upon one of these occasions Jack was so struck by the peculiar swollen, short appearance of the little serpent that he ran back and hailed his father, who came up just as Coffee and Chicory were assuring Dick that if he did what he had proposed to do, namely, taken up the short, thick serpent, he would never have gone hunting any more.In fact as soon as Jack had gone the serpent moved slightly, and wishing his father to see it, and eager to stop its escape, Dick had attempted to pick it up, when Coffee and Chicory threw themselves upon him, and a short struggle ensued, which made Dick very angry, and he was very nearly coming to blows.“The boys are quite right,” said Mr Rogers sharply. “Dick, you ought to have known better. Don’t you know what that thick, short serpent is?”“No, father,” said Dick, in an injured tone.“Then you ought to know, my boy, for I have described it to you when talking about the reptiles of this part of the world. What do you say it is, Jack?”“I don’t know, father; I’m not sure,” replied Jack, glancing at Dick, and feeling that it would hurt him to profess to greater knowledge than his brother.“Nonsense! I’m sure you do know,” said Mr Rogers impatiently.“Is it the puff-adder, father?” said Dick hesitatingly.“Of course it is, and you ought to have known the deadly pest. No, no, don’t waste a charge upon it, and it may alarm any game. Let one of the boys kill it.”That was soon done, for Chicory made a sign to his brother, who touched the puff-adder’s tail and began to irritate it, making it turn and strike viciously at the blade of his assegai.That was what Chicory wanted.The next moment his blade whished through the air, and the puff-adder’s head lay upon the ground.“You cannot be too careful, boys,” said Mr Rogers, picking up the flat spade-shaped head, and opening the jaws with the point of his knife.“Look, boys,” he continued, as he made the jaws gape, and then raised up a couple of keen transparent fangs that lay back upon the roof of the creature’s mouth. “Do you see? There are the hollow fangs through which a drop of deadly poison is injected in the blood and causes death. Don’t let’s destroy life unnecessarily; but if we want food, or come across any poisonous or dangerous beast, I think it is sentimentality to refrain from ridding the world of such a pest.”Dick felt very ignorant, and wished he had known better; but he could not help being pleased at his brother’s manner; and the incident was forgotten the next moment in one of those natural history adventures of which they had all read, but had little expected to share in their lives.As they had climbed higher they had found the mountain more rugged, and broken up into deep crevices and defiles, all of which were full of interesting objects—flowers, plants, and foliage—such as they had never before seen; while in the sheltered and often intense heat, beetles and butterflies seemed to have found these rifts a perfect paradise.Dick had gone on first, and turning a corner he had found quite a rugged shelf running alone the steep side of a ravine, the bottom of which was carpeted with flowers that grew amongst the stones.It was a very interesting spot, but as it seemed to lead right away into the heart of the mountain he was about to turn back and rejoin his party, when he caught sight of a gracefully-shaped large-eared gazelle about fifty yards away, gazing apparently in another direction.He could have shot it easily, but it seemed so quiet and tame that he did not raise his piece, though if it had attempted to run, the thought of the delicious roast it would make would undoubtedly have made him bring it down.Besides he wanted all the practice he could get with his rifle, and a shot at a running antelope or gazelle was not to be missed.Half wondering why it did not feed, he remained watching it, supposing that it had heard some of the party lower down; when all at once the sun’s rays seemed to glance off something glistening and bright, and straining forward to get a better view, Dick became aware of the fact that a large serpent was twining fold after fold one over another, and as, half petrified, hewatched the reptile, he suddenly saw a monstrous neck and head reared up in front of the gazelle.The creature seemed to be all glistening umber brown and dusky yellow, and its surface shone like burnished tortoiseshell in the glowing sun, while to the boy’s eyes it seemed, from the height to which the swaying head was raised, that the body, half hidden from him by the herbage, must be monstrous.And all the time, fascinated as it were, or more probably paralysed by fear, the gazelle stood perfectly still, watching the undulations of the serpent’s neck, and calmly awaiting its end.Dick was so interested that he forgot that he held a rifle and shot-gun in his hand. He knew that the serpent was, as it were, playing with its prey before seizing it, feeling probably, if it thought at all, quite certain of the trembling creature whenever it felt disposed to strike, and preparing itself for its banquet by writhing its body into a more convenient place.It was a horrible sight, and Dick waited to see the serpent seize the gazelle, wrap round it and crush its quivering body out of shape, and then slowly swallow it, till it formed a knot somewhere in the long tapering form, and go to sleep till it was hungry again.“Ugh, you beast!” ejaculated Dick; and the sound of his own voice seemed to break the fascination of interest by which he had been held.The next instant he was pitying the gazelle, and as he saw the serpent draw back its head he laid the barrel of his piece against a block of stone, waited until the quivering head was still and the jaws began to distend, and then his trembling hand grew firm, and he drew the trigger.The puff of smoke obscured everything for the moment, and he could not start forward or he would have gone over the precipice, so he had to wait till the vapour had passed away, when, to his great disgust, he could see nothing.The gazelle and serpent were both gone; so he began to load again, wishing he could take better aim, when he heard a shout, and Chicory came running up, followed by Coffee.“Boss Dick shoot um? Boss Dick shoot noder lion?” cried Chicory.“No,” said Dick; “it was a miss this time.”“No,” cried Coffee; “I see um. Look, boss, look!”Mr Rogers and Jack came hurrying up just then, and looking in the direction pointed out, there was the serpent, writhing and twining in the most horrible manner down in a narrow rift, out of which it now glided in a blind purposeless way, writhing, whipping the herbage with its tail, and tying itself in what seemed to be impossible knots.“Coffee and Chick go and kill um,” said the latter, letting himself down the face of the precipice, followed by his brother; and, apparently quite without dread of the monster, they scrambled down over the rough stones till they came to the serpent, when, watching his opportunity, Coffee seized its tail and tried to drag it, but the creature seemed to whip him off, and Coffee uttered a yell as he was driven staggering back.“Go down, Dick, and try and give the monster another shot,” said Mr Rogers. “No, stop; I dare say the boys will finish it.”For just then, evidently enraged at the treatment his brother had received, Chicory drove his assegai through the serpent, and then again and again, the creature’s struggles being blind of purpose, for its head had been shattered by Dick’s shot; while fiercely leaping up, Coffee raised his own assegai, and holding it chopper fashion, he waited his time till the serpent’s head was handy, when he hewed it off.The writhings now grew faint; and the General coming up, and descending with Mr Rogers and his sons and the dogs, which kept making rushes at the waving form and not biting it, the serpent was dragged out full length and measured, Mr Rogers making seven fair paces by its side, and setting it down at about eighteen feet in length.“A nice monster to meet, Master Dick,” he said. “I congratulate you upon your success.”“Have it skinned, father,” exclaimed Jack eagerly. “It would be such a capital thing to have, stuffed and coiled up, at home.”Mr Rogers glanced at the great faintly-writhing monster, with its tortoiseshell markings, and shook his head.“No, my boy,” he said; “I must confess to too great a dislike to the serpent race to care to carry about their skins. Besides, if we are going on like this, killing a lion a day, we shall have only room for the skins of our big game. Let’s leave the creature here.”They climbed up out of the ravine, and after a couple of hours’ more walking, full of interest if not of incident, they went slowly back, glad to get in the shade of the trees beneath which the waggon was halted, and finding everything right.
The day had hardly broken before Coffee and Chicory were shouting at the opening of the waggon for Boss Dick and Boss Jack to “come and ’kin a lion.”
They wanted but little rousing up, and after a good souse in the pure cool spring, that ran bubbling over and amongst some rocks with delicious-looking broad-fronded ferns drooping gracefully over, they went and rubbed their horses’ muzzles, patted their arched necks, and gave each a taste of sugar—for which Shoes and Stockings regularly looked now, and would follow their masters like dogs to obtain—they shouldered their rifles, and followed the General to the place where the lion lay.
Rested and refreshed, everything around looked lovely, for they were at the head of a very fertile valley, where flowers bloomed in profusion, and the springs that rose in the sides of the mountains sent down moisture enough to keep miles of the country round of a perpetual green.
“Plenty game here,” said Chicory, pointing to a bare, muddy spot by a water-hole.
The General turned aside, and stooped down to look at the hundreds of footprints in the soft mud.
“Koodoo,” he said, “eland, buffalo, bok, wildebeeste, quagga, zebra, lion,” and he pointed out in turn the spoor, or footprints, of the various beasts he named. “Yes, plenty of game here.”
As they went on, the boys noticed the abundance of the pretty little whidah bird, a lovely little creature, about the size of a lark, but with a tail of such enormous length that in a breeze the power of the wind upon the tail drives the bird to take flight into shelter, so that it shall not be blown away. Pigeons in abundance flew over their heads, and parrots of such gaudy colours that Dick felt obliged to shoot three or four as specimens, to skin and add to their collection.
But the lion pretty well filled the thoughts of all, and Jack was intensely eager to see the monster that he took to himself the credit of having shot.
As they drew near the place where the adventure of the previous night had taken place, the verdure began to give place to brown, parched-up sedgy grass, and the boys could not help noticing how much it seemed to harmonise with the skin of the beast of prey they had slain.
As they drew nearer there was no difficulty in finding the spot, for a party of great, dusky, bare-necked vultures were sitting about, gazing hungrily at the dead beast, but afraid to approach on account of the sticks and branches stuck about to imitate a trap.
They were so near now that they could make out the shape of the lion amongst the dry grass, when, apparently always upon his guard, the General suddenly presented the point of his assegai. Coffee and Chicory said nothing, but they did the same; and Dick and Jack, fully under the impression that the lion had come back to life, cocked their rifles and stood ready to fire.
Just then there was a low muttering growl, a moving of the long grass as if something was passing through, and a smooth-coated lion bounded into sight, gazing at them menacingly, and lashing its sides with its tail.
Wisely or no, the boys’ rifles were at their shoulders on the instant, and they fired together as Coffee and Chicory threw their spears.
There was a tremendous roar, a bound, a crash, and then silence, broken only by the clicking of the mechanism of the rifles, as the boys rapidly reloaded them with heavy ball.
As the smoke cleared away the General beckoned Dick and Jack to his side, and they advanced cautiously through the grass, which they pushed aside with the assegai and the muzzles of the rifles, till they saw, a short distance off, the handle of an assegai sticking up.
“There him is,” shouted Coffee; “my assegai!” And he seemed ready to run forward and get it, but was checked by a sign from his father.
The young hunters raised their rifles to their shoulders, ready to fire again, at the sight of the lion; but the staff of the assegai did not even quiver; and, gaining confidence, the General went closer and parted the grass, for his young companions to fire.
The next moment he had sprung forward, and shouted and waved his spear above his head; for there, upon its side, lay the lion, quite dead, the second within twenty-four hours.
“That was your shot, Dick,” said Jack.
“No, no: yours,” said Dick.
“No; I felt as if I didn’t hit it far enough forward,” cried Jack. “But we’ll soon see.”
“Ah, yah, yah! Inyami, Inyami!” shouted Coffee and Chicory; and they began to kick and bang the dead lion with their kiris, till their father stopped them, and bade one of them go and fetch Peter or Dinny to come and help to skin.
As it proved, there was a bullet right in the centre of the second lion’s forehead, and another in the shoulder, which ball Jack claimed, so that Dick had, as he really deserved, the honour of shooting the monster, and he gazed with no little pride at its tremendous proportions.
But big as it was, it was a lioness, and slighter in build than the tawny monster killed upon the previous evening, to which they now turned, looking in awe at its huge claw-armed paws, and legs one mass of muscle. There was something almost stupendous in the power that seemed to be condensed in its short thick neck, and broad deep shoulders, for, being one of the maneless kind every muscle of the neck, throat, and shoulders could be plainly seen.
“Why, Jack, we should be like rats in the jaws of a cat if he took hold of us,” said Dick.
“More need to practise our shooting. Dicky, I shall always aim at their eyes.”
“I want to get back and tell father,” said Dick. “Oh, look! here he comes.”
In effect, Mr Rogers, who had heard the firing, was coming on at a fast run, in dread lest anything should be wrong; but a smile of satisfaction appeared upon his face as he came up, and heard Dick’s joyful cry, “Father, I’ve shot a lion.”
The skinning of the dangerous monsters was a tough job; but in the Zulu’s skilful hands it seemed comparatively easy, for he knew exactly where to divide the muscles to make the limbs give way, and how to thrust the point of his knife through various membranes; so that by breakfast-time, with the help of Peter, both trophies were removed, and borne to the camp in triumph.
The place being so lovely, and game being evidently abundant, Mr Rogers decided to stay where they were for a day or two, especially as the work of making a kraal of thorns every night became an arduous task and there was nothing to be gained by hurrying through the wonderful country without stopping to examine its beauties.
Then, too, the abundance of rich fine grass growing near the rivulets that came down from the mountains was invaluable for the oxen, which had begun to look a trifle thinner; and as the good patient beasts worked so willingly and well, it was a pleasure to see them knee-deep in grass, placidly munching away at the rich herbage, and in company with the horses.
So holiday for the animals was proclaimed; Dinny, Peter, and Dirk were ordered to keep a watchful eye upon the grazing cattle, and Mr Rogers proposed a short walking, shooting, and natural-history-collecting expedition.
Of course it was all nonsense, but Dick vowed that Rough’un went and told what was to be; for the dog, who had been looking at his masters with bright, intelligent eyes, suddenly jumped upon all fours and barked twice, after which he trotted off to where Pompey, Caesar, and Crassus were tied to the wheels of the waggon, put his nose to each, and barked; and in the place of a patient attack upon tormenting flies and fleas, the dogs leaped up, strained at their thongs, and barked and bayed furiously.
“Let them loose, boys,” said Mr Rogers, to Coffee and Chicory, who ran to perform his orders, but found it hard work; for the dogs leaped at them, twisted the thongs between and round their legs, and upset them twice; while as soon as they were at liberty they seemed to have mutually agreed that this was one of the dog-days, and that it was their duty to go right off mad.
Their antics were wonderful. First they rushed off as hard as they could tear, as if going straight back home to Mr Rogers’ farm; the next minute they were back, as if they had forgotten to kill Rough’un first, for they charged down upon him, rolling him over and over, biting, worrying, and tumbling upon him in the exuberance of their delight; while Rough’un retaliated by biting again, and getting such a good grip with his teeth on Pompey’s tail that this sturdy fellow dragged him for yards before Rough’un let go.
Altogether, for a few minutes there seemed to be what Dick called a dog-storm, after which they all crouched down, with open mouths, starting eyes, and quivering tongue, staring at the preparations going on, and ready to be off.
“Good old dogs! Old Pomp! old Caesar! What old Cras! Hi, Rough’un!” cried Jack, caressing all the dogs in turn, and patting their heads, with the effect of making them seize and pretend to worry him, seizing his legs, jumping up, and showing their delight in a dozen ways.
Then the ammunition had to be obtained, satchels stored with provisions, Coffee and Chicory carrying a supply for their own and their father’s use; and when the grim-looking old warrior held up a warning finger at them and said they were not to eat the provisions, they brought a smile to his lips by running off together and pretending to devour the contents of the bag.
At last all was ready, and after a few words of warning to Dinny and the others to be watchful, the little party started, Mr Rogers referring to a small compass he carried in his pocket, and taking the bearings of the two mountains, so as to be sure of their return.
For though the General was with them there was always the possibility of being separated; and missing the way back in the great African wilds may mean missing one’s life.
There was plenty to see. Flowers grew in abundance in the rich moist places; fleshy plants abounded in the sterile rocky parts; and in every shady niche the ferns were glorious. The trees alone were enough to satisfy any one with a love of beauty. Great candelabra-shaped euphorbias, with wondrous thorns and lovely scarlet blossoms; huge forest-trees that seemed to have lost their own individuality in the wreathing clusters of creeping flowering plants they bore. Everything was beautiful; and as they walked on in the glowing sunshine, they seemed to have come to one of the most glorious spots of earth.
They had not proceeded far beside one of the little rivers that came bubbling down from the mountain they were approaching before Rough’un began to bark.
Click,click, went Dick’s rifle.
“Look, father, look! a crocodile!” cried Jack. “I wanted to see a crocodile.”
There was a rush, a splash, and a scurry, and Rough’un came out of the water, looking about him and staring up at his masters, as if asking what they had done with the reptile he had chased.
“It was not a crocodile, Jack, but a large water-lizard,” said Mr Rogers.
“Plenty of crocodiles soon,” said the General, “big as three of me.”
He marked off a space of about twenty feet upon the ground, to show the length the reptiles of which he spoke, and then roughly marked out their shape.
“Not here,” he said; “over there.” And he pointed to the north.
“Here’s another,” cried Dick.
And this time it was Pompey and Caesar who had hunted out a reptile, which hissed, and snapped, and fought vigorously for a few moments when driven to bay, but its defiance was short lived.
While the engagement went on, the reptile looked dragon-like in aspect, with its ruffled and inflated throat, serrated back, and writhing tail; but in a very short time the dogs had obtained the mastery, and the creature was examined, proving to be a kind of iguana, nearly six feet in length, a great deal of which, however, was the attenuated tail.
The cracks and rifts in the hot bare stones as they climbed higher seemed to swarm with lizards of all kinds, ready to dart into their holes upon the approach of the dogs, while several times over the two Zulu boys came running back, beckoning to Dick and Jack to go and see some snake basking, twisted in a knot in some sunny spot.
Upon one of these occasions Jack was so struck by the peculiar swollen, short appearance of the little serpent that he ran back and hailed his father, who came up just as Coffee and Chicory were assuring Dick that if he did what he had proposed to do, namely, taken up the short, thick serpent, he would never have gone hunting any more.
In fact as soon as Jack had gone the serpent moved slightly, and wishing his father to see it, and eager to stop its escape, Dick had attempted to pick it up, when Coffee and Chicory threw themselves upon him, and a short struggle ensued, which made Dick very angry, and he was very nearly coming to blows.
“The boys are quite right,” said Mr Rogers sharply. “Dick, you ought to have known better. Don’t you know what that thick, short serpent is?”
“No, father,” said Dick, in an injured tone.
“Then you ought to know, my boy, for I have described it to you when talking about the reptiles of this part of the world. What do you say it is, Jack?”
“I don’t know, father; I’m not sure,” replied Jack, glancing at Dick, and feeling that it would hurt him to profess to greater knowledge than his brother.
“Nonsense! I’m sure you do know,” said Mr Rogers impatiently.
“Is it the puff-adder, father?” said Dick hesitatingly.
“Of course it is, and you ought to have known the deadly pest. No, no, don’t waste a charge upon it, and it may alarm any game. Let one of the boys kill it.”
That was soon done, for Chicory made a sign to his brother, who touched the puff-adder’s tail and began to irritate it, making it turn and strike viciously at the blade of his assegai.
That was what Chicory wanted.
The next moment his blade whished through the air, and the puff-adder’s head lay upon the ground.
“You cannot be too careful, boys,” said Mr Rogers, picking up the flat spade-shaped head, and opening the jaws with the point of his knife.
“Look, boys,” he continued, as he made the jaws gape, and then raised up a couple of keen transparent fangs that lay back upon the roof of the creature’s mouth. “Do you see? There are the hollow fangs through which a drop of deadly poison is injected in the blood and causes death. Don’t let’s destroy life unnecessarily; but if we want food, or come across any poisonous or dangerous beast, I think it is sentimentality to refrain from ridding the world of such a pest.”
Dick felt very ignorant, and wished he had known better; but he could not help being pleased at his brother’s manner; and the incident was forgotten the next moment in one of those natural history adventures of which they had all read, but had little expected to share in their lives.
As they had climbed higher they had found the mountain more rugged, and broken up into deep crevices and defiles, all of which were full of interesting objects—flowers, plants, and foliage—such as they had never before seen; while in the sheltered and often intense heat, beetles and butterflies seemed to have found these rifts a perfect paradise.
Dick had gone on first, and turning a corner he had found quite a rugged shelf running alone the steep side of a ravine, the bottom of which was carpeted with flowers that grew amongst the stones.
It was a very interesting spot, but as it seemed to lead right away into the heart of the mountain he was about to turn back and rejoin his party, when he caught sight of a gracefully-shaped large-eared gazelle about fifty yards away, gazing apparently in another direction.
He could have shot it easily, but it seemed so quiet and tame that he did not raise his piece, though if it had attempted to run, the thought of the delicious roast it would make would undoubtedly have made him bring it down.
Besides he wanted all the practice he could get with his rifle, and a shot at a running antelope or gazelle was not to be missed.
Half wondering why it did not feed, he remained watching it, supposing that it had heard some of the party lower down; when all at once the sun’s rays seemed to glance off something glistening and bright, and straining forward to get a better view, Dick became aware of the fact that a large serpent was twining fold after fold one over another, and as, half petrified, hewatched the reptile, he suddenly saw a monstrous neck and head reared up in front of the gazelle.
The creature seemed to be all glistening umber brown and dusky yellow, and its surface shone like burnished tortoiseshell in the glowing sun, while to the boy’s eyes it seemed, from the height to which the swaying head was raised, that the body, half hidden from him by the herbage, must be monstrous.
And all the time, fascinated as it were, or more probably paralysed by fear, the gazelle stood perfectly still, watching the undulations of the serpent’s neck, and calmly awaiting its end.
Dick was so interested that he forgot that he held a rifle and shot-gun in his hand. He knew that the serpent was, as it were, playing with its prey before seizing it, feeling probably, if it thought at all, quite certain of the trembling creature whenever it felt disposed to strike, and preparing itself for its banquet by writhing its body into a more convenient place.
It was a horrible sight, and Dick waited to see the serpent seize the gazelle, wrap round it and crush its quivering body out of shape, and then slowly swallow it, till it formed a knot somewhere in the long tapering form, and go to sleep till it was hungry again.
“Ugh, you beast!” ejaculated Dick; and the sound of his own voice seemed to break the fascination of interest by which he had been held.
The next instant he was pitying the gazelle, and as he saw the serpent draw back its head he laid the barrel of his piece against a block of stone, waited until the quivering head was still and the jaws began to distend, and then his trembling hand grew firm, and he drew the trigger.
The puff of smoke obscured everything for the moment, and he could not start forward or he would have gone over the precipice, so he had to wait till the vapour had passed away, when, to his great disgust, he could see nothing.
The gazelle and serpent were both gone; so he began to load again, wishing he could take better aim, when he heard a shout, and Chicory came running up, followed by Coffee.
“Boss Dick shoot um? Boss Dick shoot noder lion?” cried Chicory.
“No,” said Dick; “it was a miss this time.”
“No,” cried Coffee; “I see um. Look, boss, look!”
Mr Rogers and Jack came hurrying up just then, and looking in the direction pointed out, there was the serpent, writhing and twining in the most horrible manner down in a narrow rift, out of which it now glided in a blind purposeless way, writhing, whipping the herbage with its tail, and tying itself in what seemed to be impossible knots.
“Coffee and Chick go and kill um,” said the latter, letting himself down the face of the precipice, followed by his brother; and, apparently quite without dread of the monster, they scrambled down over the rough stones till they came to the serpent, when, watching his opportunity, Coffee seized its tail and tried to drag it, but the creature seemed to whip him off, and Coffee uttered a yell as he was driven staggering back.
“Go down, Dick, and try and give the monster another shot,” said Mr Rogers. “No, stop; I dare say the boys will finish it.”
For just then, evidently enraged at the treatment his brother had received, Chicory drove his assegai through the serpent, and then again and again, the creature’s struggles being blind of purpose, for its head had been shattered by Dick’s shot; while fiercely leaping up, Coffee raised his own assegai, and holding it chopper fashion, he waited his time till the serpent’s head was handy, when he hewed it off.
The writhings now grew faint; and the General coming up, and descending with Mr Rogers and his sons and the dogs, which kept making rushes at the waving form and not biting it, the serpent was dragged out full length and measured, Mr Rogers making seven fair paces by its side, and setting it down at about eighteen feet in length.
“A nice monster to meet, Master Dick,” he said. “I congratulate you upon your success.”
“Have it skinned, father,” exclaimed Jack eagerly. “It would be such a capital thing to have, stuffed and coiled up, at home.”
Mr Rogers glanced at the great faintly-writhing monster, with its tortoiseshell markings, and shook his head.
“No, my boy,” he said; “I must confess to too great a dislike to the serpent race to care to carry about their skins. Besides, if we are going on like this, killing a lion a day, we shall have only room for the skins of our big game. Let’s leave the creature here.”
They climbed up out of the ravine, and after a couple of hours’ more walking, full of interest if not of incident, they went slowly back, glad to get in the shade of the trees beneath which the waggon was halted, and finding everything right.
Chapter Sixteen.How the Little Gintlemen interfered wid Dinny.A few days were very pleasantly spent here collecting, for Mr Rogers was an enthusiastic naturalist. Birds of brilliant feathering were shot, skinned, preserved with arsenical paste, filled with cotton wool, and laid to dry with their heads and shoulders thrust into paper cones, after which they were transferred to a box which had to be zealously watched to keep out the ants. Certainly scores of these were killed through eating the poison smeared upon the skins, but that was little satisfaction if they had first destroyed some delicate bird.Butterflies, too, and beetles were obtained in great numbers, being carefully killed, and pinned out in boxes lined with camphored cork. These insects the two Zulu boys soon learned to capture with the greatest ease, and after a little teaching they would bring in a handsome butterfly or moth, without crushing and disfiguring it first so that it was useless for preservation.Bok or antelope of various kinds were plentiful enough to make the party sure of plenty of food; and both Dick and Jack were getting so skilful with the rifle that they could be depended upon to bring down a koodoo or springbok at four or five hundred paces.The kraal had been strengthened, so that they felt no fear of a lion getting through; but fires were kept up every night, wood being plentiful, and the bright glow seemed to give confidence to the occupants of the camp, as well as to the horses and oxen. Watch was kept too, but though lions were sometimes heard at a distance they did not molest the travellers, and but for the stern suggestions of the General they would have grown careless in the extreme.For experience and skill in the use of fire-arms made Dick and Jack more confident. They had looked upon a lion as a monster of such prowess, and of so dangerous a character, that they were quite surprised at the ease with which a good shot with a rifle could hold the king of beasts at his mercy.As for Coffee and Chicory, the General several times punished them for being so daring and running such risks, especially as they were in a part of the country where lions really were plentiful, although, so far, little molestation of the travellers had taken place.It had been decided that upon the next day they would trek onward for some distance, and perhaps on and on for days, according to the attractiveness of the country they were passing through, and the plentifulness of the game.The General heard Mr Rogers’ decision with a smile of satisfaction.“I want to take you where the great tusker elephants are,” he said, “and let you shoot the giraffe and rhinoceros. We have hardly begun yet.”He made the boys’ eyes glow with excitement as he told them of the size of the hippopotami and elephants they would encounter, the height of the giraffes, and the furious nature of the rhinoceros, which beast seemed to be always mad if it saw a human being.As they were going to start next day it was decided to let the horses graze in peace with the oxen, which, after a fortnight’s rest, looked sleek-coated and in far better condition; but Peter, Dirk, and Dinny were bidden to keep a strict watch over the cattle, for just before starting the General announced that he had seen a lion-spoor, apparently two days old.The day was passed very pleasantly, collecting, by Mr Rogers and his sons, several very beautiful birds falling to their guns, and their boxes being filled with splendidly burnished beetles; and at last tired out, they turned to get back to the little camp by midday, hoping to find a satisfactory meal ready, for the General had gone out with a rifle in search of a bok; and his two boys had taken their kiris and assegais, to see if they could not knock down a few of the large partridge or quail-like birds.What was their disappointment then to find that neither the General nor his sons had returned, while Dinny was in great distress.“Sure,” he said, “I thought I’d take a fishing-line and a shtick, and go to the big pool by the little river over yonder, and catch a few of the fish things; bad cess to ’em, they’re no more like the fine salmon and throut of my own country than this baste of a place is its aiqual.”“Well, Dinny, and you went and didn’t catch anything,” said Dick.“Sure, Masther Dick, an’ you weren’t there,” said Dinny; “but ye’re right there; I didn’t catch a single fish, for the little gintlemen wouldn’t let me.”“Little gentlemen, Dinny?” said Mr Rogers eagerly. “Did you see any natives?”“An’ is it natives ye’d call the dirthy undersized little craytures?” cried Dinny indignantly. “Sure I’d take a couple of ’em up under my arms and run away wid ’em.”“But you say they interfered with you, and wouldn’t let you fish,” said Mr Rogers.“Faix, sor, an’ that’s what they did. Ye know the big pool.”“To be sure,” said Mr Rogers. “There are silurus in it.”“Are there though, sor?” said Dinny. “And there’s the big rocks up behind it, where the prickly trees wid red flowers and no leaves at all grow.”“Yes, I know the place,” said Mr Rogers impatiently; “go on.”“Well, sor, I sits meself down comfortable, baits my hook wid a nice bit of fresh mate as any dacent fish would like to have, and then I says to meself, ‘Dinny,’ I says, ‘while ye’re waiting to hook a nice fish for the masther’s dinner, I’d have jist a whiff o’ tibakky if I were you.’ ‘Ye’re right and I will,’ I says; and I outs wid my pipe, fills it, and was just going to light up, whensplash! There was a great big stone thrown in the wather.“‘Ah, be aisy, Masther Jack,’ I says, for I knew it was you.”“Why, I was away with my father,” cried Jack.“To be sure ye were, Masther Jack, dear; but don’t ye see I thought it was your thrick; and bang comes another big stone down be me side.“‘I’ll tell the masther if ye don’t lave off,’ I says. ‘That’s you, Masther Dick, as throwed that.’“Splash comes another, and then I recklected as ye’d both be far away, and that it must be one of them dirthy little varmints, Coffee or Chicory. So I lays down me rod and line, as nice and sthrait a rod as ye’d cut out of the woods anywhere, ye know, sor, and I picked up my bit of stick ready for them.“‘I’ll wait till ye throw again, me beauties,’ I says; and just as I says it to meself, a big stone hits me on the back, and another goes in just by me line.“‘Now ye shall have it, ye wicked little villains,’ I says; and jumping up I was going to run at ’em, when, murther! there was about a dozen of the craytures coming down from the rocks, shouting and chattering, and throwing stones.“‘Will ye be off?’ says one, ‘ye’ve no business fishing there widout lave.’”“How do you know he said that?” said Dick dryly.“Sure an’ what else would he say, Masther Dick, dear? An’ ah, ye never saw such ugly little divils, widout a bit of nose to their dirty faces, and a grin as if they were all teeth.“‘Sure I was only catching a fish for the masther’s dinner, gintlemen,’ I says, when, murther! if they didn’t run at me like mad, and if I hadn’t walked away I belave they’d have killed me. As it was one cowardly villain instead of hitting me dacently on the head wid his stick like a Christian, comes at me and bites me in the leg.”“Let’s look, Dinny,” said Dick, for Mr Rogers listened but did not speak.“Oh ye can look, Masther Dick. He tuk a pace out of me throusis, and he’d have tuk a pace out of me leg as well, if I hadn’t expostulated wid him on the head wid me shtick. Sure I was obliged to run then or they’d have torn me to pieces; and it’s my belafe they’ve been using the fishing-line ever since.”“And so you’ve had an interview with the natives, have you, Dinny?” said Mr Rogers dryly.“Ah, I wouldn’t call them natives, sor,” said Dinny.“What then, baboons?” said Mr Rogers.“Sure, sur, I don’t know the name of the thribe, but they’re a dirthy-looking little lot, and as hairy as if they never shaved themselves a bit.”“Why he’s been pelted by monkeys,” cried Dick, indignantly; and Jack burst out laughing.“Faix, Masther Dick, dear, they behaved like monkeys more than men, and they’re an ugly little thribe of natives; and if I’d had a gun I’d have given some of them the headache, that I would.”“Ah, here’s the General,” cried Mr Rogers, as the great Zulu came striding up with a bok over his shoulder.As he entered the little camp he threw down the bok, and began to skin it, looking about for Coffee and Chicory.“Where are the boys?” he said at last.“Sure they haven’t come back,” said Dinny; “and I hope they never will,” he added, taking the bok to cut up and cook a portion, for Dinny’s leg was very sore and bleeding from a severe bite, and his temper was also a little more sore from the doubt with which his story had been received.The Zulu darted a fierce glance at him, but he did not speak. He only walked to the waggon, where Mr Rogers was examining some of the specimens he had killed, and said simply,—“May I take the rifle, boss, and go and find my boys?”“Yes, of course,” exclaimed Mr Rogers.“I’ll go with you, General,” cried Jack eagerly.“But you are too tired,” said his father.“Oh, no,” cried Jack. “I don’t mind. I’ll go with the General.”The Zulu darted a grateful look at Jack, and the latter took his rifle and bullet cartridges, starting off directly after in the way that the boys had been seen to go.Jack began chatting to the Zulu as they went along, but after a few remarks he noticed that the General was very quiet and reserved, while when he glanced at his countenance it looked so strange that Jack felt startled, and began to think of how awkward his position would be if the Zulu were to prove unfaithful, and turn upon him.But the next minute he was reassured, and found that it was anxiety upon the General’s part about his boys.“I am afraid, Boss Jack,” he said hoarsely. “It frightens me to think. They may be killed.”“Oh, no,” cried Jack hopefully. “They have only gone farther away, and have not had time to return.”The Zulu shook his head, but he glanced eagerly at the speaker as if to silently ask him if he really felt like that.“No,” he said softly; “one of them would be back by now, I am afraid.”Jack tried again, but it was of no avail; and the Zulu having struck the boys’ trail, he had to be left to follow it without interruption, and this he did, all through the heat of that glowing afternoon.Several times poor Jack felt as if he would faint, but his spirit kept him up, and at last they came upon Chicory, sitting down by a little pool of water with his assegai beside him, bathing his bleeding feet.The Zulu uttered a low sigh of satisfaction as he saw one of his boys, and Chicory jumped up, and seizing his assegai, ran to meet them.“My brother; has he got back?” he asked in his own tongue.“No; I came to find you both. Where is he?” said the General sternly.“Lost,” said Chicory disconsolately. “We got no birds and would not go back without, and we went on and parted. He is lost.”“Lost!” said the Zulu scornfully; “my boy lost! Go find him. Watch the spoor. He must be found.”Poor Chicory turned without a word, and in obedience to his father’s order he went off in the direction where he and his brother had accidentally parted, and at last led them to a beautiful park-like tract of land. Forest-trees sprang up in every direction, for the most part draped with creepers; clumps of bushy growth, and clusters of prickly succulent plants, grew on every side. It was in fact a very nature’s garden, but though they searched in all directions through the lovely glades, golden with the rays of the scorching sun, there was no trace of poor Coffee; and after separating, when they met again from time to time poor worn out Chicory looked his despair.Again they separated, Jack following, however, pretty closely upon poor Chicory’s steps, till the excitement that had kept him up so long began to fail, and he sat down pretty well exhausted, with his rifle across his knees and his back against a tree.
A few days were very pleasantly spent here collecting, for Mr Rogers was an enthusiastic naturalist. Birds of brilliant feathering were shot, skinned, preserved with arsenical paste, filled with cotton wool, and laid to dry with their heads and shoulders thrust into paper cones, after which they were transferred to a box which had to be zealously watched to keep out the ants. Certainly scores of these were killed through eating the poison smeared upon the skins, but that was little satisfaction if they had first destroyed some delicate bird.
Butterflies, too, and beetles were obtained in great numbers, being carefully killed, and pinned out in boxes lined with camphored cork. These insects the two Zulu boys soon learned to capture with the greatest ease, and after a little teaching they would bring in a handsome butterfly or moth, without crushing and disfiguring it first so that it was useless for preservation.
Bok or antelope of various kinds were plentiful enough to make the party sure of plenty of food; and both Dick and Jack were getting so skilful with the rifle that they could be depended upon to bring down a koodoo or springbok at four or five hundred paces.
The kraal had been strengthened, so that they felt no fear of a lion getting through; but fires were kept up every night, wood being plentiful, and the bright glow seemed to give confidence to the occupants of the camp, as well as to the horses and oxen. Watch was kept too, but though lions were sometimes heard at a distance they did not molest the travellers, and but for the stern suggestions of the General they would have grown careless in the extreme.
For experience and skill in the use of fire-arms made Dick and Jack more confident. They had looked upon a lion as a monster of such prowess, and of so dangerous a character, that they were quite surprised at the ease with which a good shot with a rifle could hold the king of beasts at his mercy.
As for Coffee and Chicory, the General several times punished them for being so daring and running such risks, especially as they were in a part of the country where lions really were plentiful, although, so far, little molestation of the travellers had taken place.
It had been decided that upon the next day they would trek onward for some distance, and perhaps on and on for days, according to the attractiveness of the country they were passing through, and the plentifulness of the game.
The General heard Mr Rogers’ decision with a smile of satisfaction.
“I want to take you where the great tusker elephants are,” he said, “and let you shoot the giraffe and rhinoceros. We have hardly begun yet.”
He made the boys’ eyes glow with excitement as he told them of the size of the hippopotami and elephants they would encounter, the height of the giraffes, and the furious nature of the rhinoceros, which beast seemed to be always mad if it saw a human being.
As they were going to start next day it was decided to let the horses graze in peace with the oxen, which, after a fortnight’s rest, looked sleek-coated and in far better condition; but Peter, Dirk, and Dinny were bidden to keep a strict watch over the cattle, for just before starting the General announced that he had seen a lion-spoor, apparently two days old.
The day was passed very pleasantly, collecting, by Mr Rogers and his sons, several very beautiful birds falling to their guns, and their boxes being filled with splendidly burnished beetles; and at last tired out, they turned to get back to the little camp by midday, hoping to find a satisfactory meal ready, for the General had gone out with a rifle in search of a bok; and his two boys had taken their kiris and assegais, to see if they could not knock down a few of the large partridge or quail-like birds.
What was their disappointment then to find that neither the General nor his sons had returned, while Dinny was in great distress.
“Sure,” he said, “I thought I’d take a fishing-line and a shtick, and go to the big pool by the little river over yonder, and catch a few of the fish things; bad cess to ’em, they’re no more like the fine salmon and throut of my own country than this baste of a place is its aiqual.”
“Well, Dinny, and you went and didn’t catch anything,” said Dick.
“Sure, Masther Dick, an’ you weren’t there,” said Dinny; “but ye’re right there; I didn’t catch a single fish, for the little gintlemen wouldn’t let me.”
“Little gentlemen, Dinny?” said Mr Rogers eagerly. “Did you see any natives?”
“An’ is it natives ye’d call the dirthy undersized little craytures?” cried Dinny indignantly. “Sure I’d take a couple of ’em up under my arms and run away wid ’em.”
“But you say they interfered with you, and wouldn’t let you fish,” said Mr Rogers.
“Faix, sor, an’ that’s what they did. Ye know the big pool.”
“To be sure,” said Mr Rogers. “There are silurus in it.”
“Are there though, sor?” said Dinny. “And there’s the big rocks up behind it, where the prickly trees wid red flowers and no leaves at all grow.”
“Yes, I know the place,” said Mr Rogers impatiently; “go on.”
“Well, sor, I sits meself down comfortable, baits my hook wid a nice bit of fresh mate as any dacent fish would like to have, and then I says to meself, ‘Dinny,’ I says, ‘while ye’re waiting to hook a nice fish for the masther’s dinner, I’d have jist a whiff o’ tibakky if I were you.’ ‘Ye’re right and I will,’ I says; and I outs wid my pipe, fills it, and was just going to light up, whensplash! There was a great big stone thrown in the wather.
“‘Ah, be aisy, Masther Jack,’ I says, for I knew it was you.”
“Why, I was away with my father,” cried Jack.
“To be sure ye were, Masther Jack, dear; but don’t ye see I thought it was your thrick; and bang comes another big stone down be me side.
“‘I’ll tell the masther if ye don’t lave off,’ I says. ‘That’s you, Masther Dick, as throwed that.’
“Splash comes another, and then I recklected as ye’d both be far away, and that it must be one of them dirthy little varmints, Coffee or Chicory. So I lays down me rod and line, as nice and sthrait a rod as ye’d cut out of the woods anywhere, ye know, sor, and I picked up my bit of stick ready for them.
“‘I’ll wait till ye throw again, me beauties,’ I says; and just as I says it to meself, a big stone hits me on the back, and another goes in just by me line.
“‘Now ye shall have it, ye wicked little villains,’ I says; and jumping up I was going to run at ’em, when, murther! there was about a dozen of the craytures coming down from the rocks, shouting and chattering, and throwing stones.
“‘Will ye be off?’ says one, ‘ye’ve no business fishing there widout lave.’”
“How do you know he said that?” said Dick dryly.
“Sure an’ what else would he say, Masther Dick, dear? An’ ah, ye never saw such ugly little divils, widout a bit of nose to their dirty faces, and a grin as if they were all teeth.
“‘Sure I was only catching a fish for the masther’s dinner, gintlemen,’ I says, when, murther! if they didn’t run at me like mad, and if I hadn’t walked away I belave they’d have killed me. As it was one cowardly villain instead of hitting me dacently on the head wid his stick like a Christian, comes at me and bites me in the leg.”
“Let’s look, Dinny,” said Dick, for Mr Rogers listened but did not speak.
“Oh ye can look, Masther Dick. He tuk a pace out of me throusis, and he’d have tuk a pace out of me leg as well, if I hadn’t expostulated wid him on the head wid me shtick. Sure I was obliged to run then or they’d have torn me to pieces; and it’s my belafe they’ve been using the fishing-line ever since.”
“And so you’ve had an interview with the natives, have you, Dinny?” said Mr Rogers dryly.
“Ah, I wouldn’t call them natives, sor,” said Dinny.
“What then, baboons?” said Mr Rogers.
“Sure, sur, I don’t know the name of the thribe, but they’re a dirthy-looking little lot, and as hairy as if they never shaved themselves a bit.”
“Why he’s been pelted by monkeys,” cried Dick, indignantly; and Jack burst out laughing.
“Faix, Masther Dick, dear, they behaved like monkeys more than men, and they’re an ugly little thribe of natives; and if I’d had a gun I’d have given some of them the headache, that I would.”
“Ah, here’s the General,” cried Mr Rogers, as the great Zulu came striding up with a bok over his shoulder.
As he entered the little camp he threw down the bok, and began to skin it, looking about for Coffee and Chicory.
“Where are the boys?” he said at last.
“Sure they haven’t come back,” said Dinny; “and I hope they never will,” he added, taking the bok to cut up and cook a portion, for Dinny’s leg was very sore and bleeding from a severe bite, and his temper was also a little more sore from the doubt with which his story had been received.
The Zulu darted a fierce glance at him, but he did not speak. He only walked to the waggon, where Mr Rogers was examining some of the specimens he had killed, and said simply,—
“May I take the rifle, boss, and go and find my boys?”
“Yes, of course,” exclaimed Mr Rogers.
“I’ll go with you, General,” cried Jack eagerly.
“But you are too tired,” said his father.
“Oh, no,” cried Jack. “I don’t mind. I’ll go with the General.”
The Zulu darted a grateful look at Jack, and the latter took his rifle and bullet cartridges, starting off directly after in the way that the boys had been seen to go.
Jack began chatting to the Zulu as they went along, but after a few remarks he noticed that the General was very quiet and reserved, while when he glanced at his countenance it looked so strange that Jack felt startled, and began to think of how awkward his position would be if the Zulu were to prove unfaithful, and turn upon him.
But the next minute he was reassured, and found that it was anxiety upon the General’s part about his boys.
“I am afraid, Boss Jack,” he said hoarsely. “It frightens me to think. They may be killed.”
“Oh, no,” cried Jack hopefully. “They have only gone farther away, and have not had time to return.”
The Zulu shook his head, but he glanced eagerly at the speaker as if to silently ask him if he really felt like that.
“No,” he said softly; “one of them would be back by now, I am afraid.”
Jack tried again, but it was of no avail; and the Zulu having struck the boys’ trail, he had to be left to follow it without interruption, and this he did, all through the heat of that glowing afternoon.
Several times poor Jack felt as if he would faint, but his spirit kept him up, and at last they came upon Chicory, sitting down by a little pool of water with his assegai beside him, bathing his bleeding feet.
The Zulu uttered a low sigh of satisfaction as he saw one of his boys, and Chicory jumped up, and seizing his assegai, ran to meet them.
“My brother; has he got back?” he asked in his own tongue.
“No; I came to find you both. Where is he?” said the General sternly.
“Lost,” said Chicory disconsolately. “We got no birds and would not go back without, and we went on and parted. He is lost.”
“Lost!” said the Zulu scornfully; “my boy lost! Go find him. Watch the spoor. He must be found.”
Poor Chicory turned without a word, and in obedience to his father’s order he went off in the direction where he and his brother had accidentally parted, and at last led them to a beautiful park-like tract of land. Forest-trees sprang up in every direction, for the most part draped with creepers; clumps of bushy growth, and clusters of prickly succulent plants, grew on every side. It was in fact a very nature’s garden, but though they searched in all directions through the lovely glades, golden with the rays of the scorching sun, there was no trace of poor Coffee; and after separating, when they met again from time to time poor worn out Chicory looked his despair.
Again they separated, Jack following, however, pretty closely upon poor Chicory’s steps, till the excitement that had kept him up so long began to fail, and he sat down pretty well exhausted, with his rifle across his knees and his back against a tree.
Chapter Seventeen.Jack Rogers goes to Sleep.Jack could hardly tell afterwards how it all happened, for he felt that he must have gone off fast asleep from utter exhaustion, but his sleep could not have lasted above an hour, for when he awoke with a start the sun had only just dipped down out of sight, and there was a faint glow still amongst the trees.All was very silent and he was drowsy, but a feeling of alarm now began to oppress him, and he wondered whether Chicory and the General would soon be there.His next thought was about his rifle, which still lay across his knees; and feeling that he might at any moment be called upon to use it in his defence, he cocked both barrels, and was then about to get up and shout, when, not a hundred yards away down a broad vista of the open forest, he saw something which made him present his rifle and then sit motionless, with his heart going thump, thump, heavily beneath his ribs.For there, stealing softly along, with its belly almost sweeping the ground, was a huge lion—not a smooth, maneless lion, such as the two they had slain, but a big-muzzled, rugged-maned, hairy monster, such as he was familiar with in pictures—the natural history lion that he had seen a hundred times.To have attempted to fire would have been madness at that distance, and it was evident that he was at present in no danger, for seated as he was in the shadow, with his back to the trunk of a great tree, the lion had not seen him.The next moment Jack saw why he passed unnoticed.The lion was cautiously stalking some dark animal that was softly gliding through the bushes, following it step by step awaiting the time to spring.It was an interesting sight, though painful; and Jack thought of his brother’s adventure with the serpent, and whether he was not in duty bound to save this animal from its pursuer as his brother saved the gazelle.The next moment Jack’s heart seemed to stand still, for the dark animal passed out of the bushes into sight, and he saw that it was no wild animal, but poor Chicory, bending down, and evidently carefully tracing some spoor, perhaps his brother’s, while the lion was following to strike him down.It was a terrible position; for young as he was in woodcraft, Jack had not yet acquired the firmness in critical moments that comes to the old hunter, and for the time he felt paralysed.He was a brave, self-denying boy, but in that emergency he could only sit there, turned as it were to stone, and watch the motions of poor Chicory, and the merciless beast that was stealthily creeping along in his wake without a sound.Jack knew that Chicory’s position was critical in the extreme, and that if he did not save him by a lucky shot the lion would strike him down; but he could not move; the muscles of his whole body refused to act, as if he was in a nightmare; all he could do was to move his eyes and watch the terrible tragedy about to be enacted.The boy felt as if he would have given worlds to be able to fire, or even shout; but he could do nothing but wait, and see Chicory creeping patiently along in and out among the trees and bushes, now hidden, now coming into sight for a few moments, but always so intent upon the footprints he was examining, that he did not hear his enemy.And what an enemy! There was the great powerful beast, with glaring eyes and horrent mane, creeping along with its fur brushing the grass, and every foot touching the ground like velvet. At times Jack could see the great muscles moving beneath its skin, and the pliant tail swaying and quivering as it softly lashed it to and fro.Several times over it crouched down, as if about to spring, but a quick movement on the part of the Zulu boy caused it to pause—and still the hunt went on.As Jack sat there the great drops of perspiration gathered upon his forehead, and trickled down his face. The sun’s light reflected from the glowing clouds grew less, and there was a grey gloom gathering round, which made the scene before him more painful. At one time he thought that as darkness came on Chicory might give up, become aware of his danger, and so escape. Even now, if he could have warned him the boy would have doubtless bounded into a tree, for he was as quick and active as a monkey; but no warning passed from Jack’s lips, and the strange weird scene went on.The forest glade before him might have been a maze whose path Chicory was trying to thread, and the lion some faithful attendant beast, watchfully following in his very steps. But though Jack’s body was as it were enchained, his mind was in a fearful state of activity; and not only did he follow as if fascinated every step, but his thoughts even went in advance, and he felt sick as he thought of the catastrophe about to happen, seeming to see the lion make its final crouch and spring, hearing too the boy’s death-shriek; and as the actors in the terrible scene drew nearer to him, Jack strove with all his might to cast off his inaction.On still, and in and out, in a heavy weary way, as if he could hardly put one leg before the other, went poor Chicory; and slowly and carefully followed the lion, the massive jaws thrust forward, and each great paw raised and set down without a sound.It could not have lasted more than a few minutes, this exciting scene, but it seemed never ending to Jack as he sat there, till in one instant he was roused back into action, and to try and the poor boy.In his wanderings in and out, as has been said, Chicory came nearer to where his young master sat, with his back to the trunk of the great forest-tree, and more than once Jack wondered that the lion had not seen him; though this was easily explainable—he remained perfectly motionless, and the animal was intent upon his prey.Chicory had come on nearer and nearer then, till he was not above thirty yards from Jack, when, turning in amongst some long grass, the positions were suddenly reversed, for in place of following the Zulu boy, the lion crept round a clump of bushes so as to come face to face with him, and then crouched ready to spring—just as Chicory stopped short, leaning forward over something in the long grass, and, dropping his assegai, uttered a piercing shriek.Not thirty yards away, and just in face of where Jack was; and he knew that Chicory had come upon something terrible, perhaps the body of his brother, while he, Jack, had been sitting there quite unconscious, and had even in his ignorance gone to sleep.It was that cry that roused Jack into action, for, almost as the boy dropped his assegai and leaned over that something in the long grass, the lion gathered itself for its spring, and the watcher’s rifle rose to his shoulder. There was one quick aim—the sharp crack, followed by a multitude of echoes; and Jack sprang to his feet and on one side, to avoid the charge should the lion come his way.There was a deafening roar, and the lion, which had fallen short in his spring and rolled over, evidently badly hit, struggled to his feet, and made at Jack, who sheltered himself behind the nearest tree; and when the great brute came on, with distended claws and bristling mane, he fired again, at a distance of a couple of yards, forgetting that his charge was but small shot.At that distance, though, small shot were as good as a bullet, and the lion fell in his tracks, snarling and growling horribly, as he struck impotently at his slayer; then his head fell back, the mighty paws grew inert, and he lay over more upon his side—for with a furious cry of rage Chicory forgot his weariness, and picking up his assegai, drove it deep into the animal’s chest.Hardly believing it true, Jack rapidly reloaded, congratulating himself upon what he had done, when he heard the rustling of leaves, and presented his piece, fully expecting that it was the lion’s mate.But no: it was the General, who ran panting up, having heard the sound of the rifle, and as he reached them Chicory took his hand, and led him to the patch of grass without a word.Jack followed, instinctively knowing that something terrible was there. And then his heart seemed to stand still, as he heard a deep groan burst from the General’s breast, and he sank down by the body of the son he had come to seek.“Is—is he dead?” said Jack, in a hoarse whisper, as he gazed down in the gathering darkness at poor Coffee’s bleeding form.For answer the General was feeling the boy’s chest, and he then laid his ear against his side.“No, not dead!” he cried excitedly.Then lifting the boy in his arms, he started off back towards the waggon, Jack and Chicory following behind, but not until the latter had rushed back to where the lion lay, and plunged his assegai once more deeply into the monster’s chest.
Jack could hardly tell afterwards how it all happened, for he felt that he must have gone off fast asleep from utter exhaustion, but his sleep could not have lasted above an hour, for when he awoke with a start the sun had only just dipped down out of sight, and there was a faint glow still amongst the trees.
All was very silent and he was drowsy, but a feeling of alarm now began to oppress him, and he wondered whether Chicory and the General would soon be there.
His next thought was about his rifle, which still lay across his knees; and feeling that he might at any moment be called upon to use it in his defence, he cocked both barrels, and was then about to get up and shout, when, not a hundred yards away down a broad vista of the open forest, he saw something which made him present his rifle and then sit motionless, with his heart going thump, thump, heavily beneath his ribs.
For there, stealing softly along, with its belly almost sweeping the ground, was a huge lion—not a smooth, maneless lion, such as the two they had slain, but a big-muzzled, rugged-maned, hairy monster, such as he was familiar with in pictures—the natural history lion that he had seen a hundred times.
To have attempted to fire would have been madness at that distance, and it was evident that he was at present in no danger, for seated as he was in the shadow, with his back to the trunk of a great tree, the lion had not seen him.
The next moment Jack saw why he passed unnoticed.
The lion was cautiously stalking some dark animal that was softly gliding through the bushes, following it step by step awaiting the time to spring.
It was an interesting sight, though painful; and Jack thought of his brother’s adventure with the serpent, and whether he was not in duty bound to save this animal from its pursuer as his brother saved the gazelle.
The next moment Jack’s heart seemed to stand still, for the dark animal passed out of the bushes into sight, and he saw that it was no wild animal, but poor Chicory, bending down, and evidently carefully tracing some spoor, perhaps his brother’s, while the lion was following to strike him down.
It was a terrible position; for young as he was in woodcraft, Jack had not yet acquired the firmness in critical moments that comes to the old hunter, and for the time he felt paralysed.
He was a brave, self-denying boy, but in that emergency he could only sit there, turned as it were to stone, and watch the motions of poor Chicory, and the merciless beast that was stealthily creeping along in his wake without a sound.
Jack knew that Chicory’s position was critical in the extreme, and that if he did not save him by a lucky shot the lion would strike him down; but he could not move; the muscles of his whole body refused to act, as if he was in a nightmare; all he could do was to move his eyes and watch the terrible tragedy about to be enacted.
The boy felt as if he would have given worlds to be able to fire, or even shout; but he could do nothing but wait, and see Chicory creeping patiently along in and out among the trees and bushes, now hidden, now coming into sight for a few moments, but always so intent upon the footprints he was examining, that he did not hear his enemy.
And what an enemy! There was the great powerful beast, with glaring eyes and horrent mane, creeping along with its fur brushing the grass, and every foot touching the ground like velvet. At times Jack could see the great muscles moving beneath its skin, and the pliant tail swaying and quivering as it softly lashed it to and fro.
Several times over it crouched down, as if about to spring, but a quick movement on the part of the Zulu boy caused it to pause—and still the hunt went on.
As Jack sat there the great drops of perspiration gathered upon his forehead, and trickled down his face. The sun’s light reflected from the glowing clouds grew less, and there was a grey gloom gathering round, which made the scene before him more painful. At one time he thought that as darkness came on Chicory might give up, become aware of his danger, and so escape. Even now, if he could have warned him the boy would have doubtless bounded into a tree, for he was as quick and active as a monkey; but no warning passed from Jack’s lips, and the strange weird scene went on.
The forest glade before him might have been a maze whose path Chicory was trying to thread, and the lion some faithful attendant beast, watchfully following in his very steps. But though Jack’s body was as it were enchained, his mind was in a fearful state of activity; and not only did he follow as if fascinated every step, but his thoughts even went in advance, and he felt sick as he thought of the catastrophe about to happen, seeming to see the lion make its final crouch and spring, hearing too the boy’s death-shriek; and as the actors in the terrible scene drew nearer to him, Jack strove with all his might to cast off his inaction.
On still, and in and out, in a heavy weary way, as if he could hardly put one leg before the other, went poor Chicory; and slowly and carefully followed the lion, the massive jaws thrust forward, and each great paw raised and set down without a sound.
It could not have lasted more than a few minutes, this exciting scene, but it seemed never ending to Jack as he sat there, till in one instant he was roused back into action, and to try and the poor boy.
In his wanderings in and out, as has been said, Chicory came nearer to where his young master sat, with his back to the trunk of the great forest-tree, and more than once Jack wondered that the lion had not seen him; though this was easily explainable—he remained perfectly motionless, and the animal was intent upon his prey.
Chicory had come on nearer and nearer then, till he was not above thirty yards from Jack, when, turning in amongst some long grass, the positions were suddenly reversed, for in place of following the Zulu boy, the lion crept round a clump of bushes so as to come face to face with him, and then crouched ready to spring—just as Chicory stopped short, leaning forward over something in the long grass, and, dropping his assegai, uttered a piercing shriek.
Not thirty yards away, and just in face of where Jack was; and he knew that Chicory had come upon something terrible, perhaps the body of his brother, while he, Jack, had been sitting there quite unconscious, and had even in his ignorance gone to sleep.
It was that cry that roused Jack into action, for, almost as the boy dropped his assegai and leaned over that something in the long grass, the lion gathered itself for its spring, and the watcher’s rifle rose to his shoulder. There was one quick aim—the sharp crack, followed by a multitude of echoes; and Jack sprang to his feet and on one side, to avoid the charge should the lion come his way.
There was a deafening roar, and the lion, which had fallen short in his spring and rolled over, evidently badly hit, struggled to his feet, and made at Jack, who sheltered himself behind the nearest tree; and when the great brute came on, with distended claws and bristling mane, he fired again, at a distance of a couple of yards, forgetting that his charge was but small shot.
At that distance, though, small shot were as good as a bullet, and the lion fell in his tracks, snarling and growling horribly, as he struck impotently at his slayer; then his head fell back, the mighty paws grew inert, and he lay over more upon his side—for with a furious cry of rage Chicory forgot his weariness, and picking up his assegai, drove it deep into the animal’s chest.
Hardly believing it true, Jack rapidly reloaded, congratulating himself upon what he had done, when he heard the rustling of leaves, and presented his piece, fully expecting that it was the lion’s mate.
But no: it was the General, who ran panting up, having heard the sound of the rifle, and as he reached them Chicory took his hand, and led him to the patch of grass without a word.
Jack followed, instinctively knowing that something terrible was there. And then his heart seemed to stand still, as he heard a deep groan burst from the General’s breast, and he sank down by the body of the son he had come to seek.
“Is—is he dead?” said Jack, in a hoarse whisper, as he gazed down in the gathering darkness at poor Coffee’s bleeding form.
For answer the General was feeling the boy’s chest, and he then laid his ear against his side.
“No, not dead!” he cried excitedly.
Then lifting the boy in his arms, he started off back towards the waggon, Jack and Chicory following behind, but not until the latter had rushed back to where the lion lay, and plunged his assegai once more deeply into the monster’s chest.