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Ps Roane rae apie Raabe me Sar sayeth REM ; Pr iti wei Re Pearamtnar ite igh Romero Sree i Pare cai sie eee eC Nee rE ek sbetphgee bok A oda ee he pepe lv haha Dahan Patel «eae We Binoy Ant bist Seen wig een ie icaighsiet Banengeh gry ra a= ee ah ie eke anit a Minha rect Pl i Sa ey VS mt te i 3 Srceer ra eel a Postak AUNT ah tor ae Son een “- mer ey ais erie batts ees mS Bee cee sbiere Py TT a wR aa ar Shaman nce te a Se ALBERT R. MANN LIBRARY NEw YorRK STATE COLLEGES OF AGRICULTURE AND HoME ECONOMICS AT CORNELL UNIVERSITY ‘ornell University Library Cornell University The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924003436619 A BREATH FROM THE VELDT ps Yt. Uy ot oe a 4 Le Me, ie “ A Breath from the Veldt BY JOHN GUILLE MILLAIS, F.Z.S., etc. ? * AUTHOR OF ‘GAME BIRDS AND SHOOTING SKETCHES, ‘BRITISH DEER AND THEIR HORNS, ETC. WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR AND FRONTISPIECE BY Tat vate Sir J. E. MILLAIS, Bart, P.B.A, NEW AND REVISED EDITION LONDON HENRY SOTHERAN AND CO. 37 PICCADILLY, W., AND 140 STRAND, W.C. 1899 PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION Since the publication of the First Edition of J Breath from the Veldt, South Africa has undergone many changes. Twice have the savage hordes of the Matabele and Mashunas fought against the incoming pioneers, and now we are involved in war with the Boers, a contest which has been inevitable ever since the disastrous peace of 1881. The outcome of this will, we trust, herald in the dawn of another peace that shall be an abiding one. I have found it necessary to issue the Second Edition in a more handy shape, and though the size of the volume has been reduced the illustrations will be found in their original form. J. G. MILLAIS. Metwoop, Horsuam, 1899 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS ELECTRO ETCHINGS The Last Trek—by Sir J. E. Mixrais, P.R.A. . . ‘ . Frontispiece A Karroo landscape 3 : ; : ‘ j 3 ‘ ; To face page 38 A locust storm a 3» 86 Waterbuck getting the ae so ax ETS A troop of sable antelope on the move 999, 200 River scene on the Nuanetsi » oo 214 A wounded Cape buffalo bull Shy Sp LS Roan antelopes “‘done brown” a 49, 286 Lions attacking and hamstringing a buffalo sca 2QO Sable antelope resting and dusting 9 294 White-tailed gnus ‘ aye a GO Herd of black wildebeest commencing to run, and separating into three curves . ss. ay 932! Blessbucks about to run. say 342 FULL PAGE PAGE South Africa (as many have found it) 4 South Africa—The ideal : F ‘ 5 Showing the manner in which the lesser green cormorants surround and drive on shore a shoal of small fish 9 In days gone by 13 Springbuck feeding 27 Springbuck resting 31 Springbuck commencing to run 35 The blue khoorhan 51 The Vaal khoorhan 55 Stalking blessbuck with a saga iotse—The seule 63 Stalking blessbuck with a trained horse—The shot 67 Roelef Van Staden 76 The bush khoorhan 79 Knee-haltered horses rolling 83 Pallah alarmed 89 Pallah on the move ‘ 93 Rhinoceros birds feeding on a koodoo cow i ; 99 Rhinoceros birds alarmed, and calling attention to the object of danger . 103 Final alarm and demonstration of a party of rhinoceros birds before leaving an animal 107 Vill A Breath from the Veldt Extraordinary attitudes of a bustard from Pietersberg high veldt Some South African birds of prey Pressing business elsewhere Klipbucks descending a kopjie . F Koodoo bull endeavouring to escape notice by assimilation to surroundings Native types Black-crowned weaver birds Usual method of drawing game to camp Waterbuck on the move ; : . : : : A roan antelope evicting a Lichtenstein’s hartebeest from the beds made by the latter Study of a young sable bull Second attitude of defence of a sable bull A waterbuck taking cover Natives firing the bush at night Drifting spirals. Jabiru storks soaring . Listening to the lions roaring A lion scaring vultures off a kill Dead giraffe and Dutch hunters Burchell’s zebras leaving a pan after drinking Sable antelopes suspicious “Clas,” a Shangan hunter Retribution Lions going to a “ still” 4 Sassaby running ; : : F : He takes a look behind occasionally, to see if you are still following A Dutch hunter’s camp : ; A troop of guinea-fowls trekking towards the water in the evening A corner in Basadanote’s camp . Prince, “Gentleman,” waggon, and heads Growth of horns of the male black wildebeest . IN THE TEXT The long-eared jackal . A cheetah cub . : Springbuck heeds nay after auuih Attitudes of springbuck in the air as they jump to avoid a bites that has struck the ground near them . ‘Karoo shepherd (tailpiece) Springbuck coursing Springbuck crossing a road Martinus Landsberg : Mode of shooting the Stanley bustard A Dutch interior—showing Boers’ mode of dancing Prince . . . . . . ‘ . : : Showing the remarkable manner in which “ Gentleman” wears the boots I gave him “David,” Head of bushmen (tailpiece) Evening play of the bush khoorhan The ordinary walk of the steinbuck ; ; F , , , 3 PAGE 113 123 131 137 147 153 159 163 171 189 193 197 205 211 221 225 233 241 257 261 265 269 275 297 303 307 311 315 319 339 15 17 19 21 23 25 40 47 59 60 70 71 74 82 86 A Breath from the Veldt Bush veldt landscape and distant view of the Zoutpansberg mountains . Head of the rhinoceros bird immediately after death Any small attentions thankfully received Prince baking in an ant-heap Kitwitjies attacking a white-necked crow Bustard from Pietersberg Flats Magato’s stronghold, Zoutpansberg The curious way in which the bateleur eagle carries its head whilst hunting Quay vogel alarming game Tawny eagle stooping at wounded secinbai Fish caught in Morkofero river : Cornellis and his forest dolls (tailpiece) A baobab tree Fore-leg of the vitsapeinger sien Hace on fie ane Waggons crossing a river Heads of young and old koodoo bulls “Umsheti” : Prince and donkeys carrying game to waggon The reedbuck in two attitudes of alarm Oom Roelef’s outspan at Gong Game sledge for standing camp (tailpiece) Head of an adult reedbuck, showing soft horn bases Head of a reedbuck immediately after death Reedbucks and screaming eagle Nature’s protest Head of a roan antelope cow First attitude of defence of a wounded ae bull Sketches of a sable bull at bay . How to sleep on the veldt (tailpiece) A buffalo cow falling Van Staden grallocking The voice of Africa Vultures going to roost . ‘ A vulture’s bathing pool, Nuanetsi River (tailpiece) First spring of a koodoo bull as he starts to run The pace is hot for the first mile You may possibly lose some of your wardrobe And there are occasionally a few holes . “Ugh! you brute, you spoilt that shot anyhow ” He stands at last The “coup de grace ” A dead koodoo bull Off home Kaffirs cutting up and aan a iiofiae bull Burchell’s zebras at a pan Burchell’s zebras feeding Sable antelopes feeding Usual attitude of a lion roaring in a standing position x A Breath from the Veldt PAGE A lion roaring, sitting down. é : ‘ . 278 Shangan native singing to and praising ie ee -guide as he is led by ‘hig bird | toa bees nest . . 279 How the lion kills (tailpiece). : ; ‘ . ; ; . , . 284 The record koodoo horns 5 : , ; : ; ‘ : : . 286 Roi Rhebuck ewe moving off . ; : : , : ' ‘ : . 288 Koodoos going through acacia forest. : j . : ; 4 289 A dying leopard ‘ : i ‘ ‘ ‘ : : . . 291 Sable antelopes’ heads . ; : , : : i : ; . 293 Sketch of a blue wildebeest bull , : ‘ : , ; . : - 30! Oom Roelef asleep : : : : : ; ‘ ; ; 2 «313 Bateleur eagle making double strike. 5 , ; ‘ : : F a BEF ‘Good-bye, old friend” (tailpiece) : : ‘ : j 3 : . 321 A Voor trekker : : ‘ : : : 2 F : » 323 Piet Terblans . j i : ‘ ; : ; : . 325 Study of a black wildebeest ero : : : ; 2 : ‘ 4 . 328 Sketches of black wildebeests from nature ‘ : : : : : : » 329 Black wildebeests making their sudden turn before stopping. : : . + 330 Black wildebeest cows evicting an unpopular bull from the herd : : : : - 331 Cantering out to feed . ; ; ‘ ; ; : P ; ; - 332 Galloping home at sunrise i ; . : ; . ; : » 333 A wounded black wildebeest bull P : S 2 : » 335 The white-quilled black khoorhan in its usual attitude of hovering when disturbed ‘ ‘ . 336 Oom Piet’s yarn j ‘ : F : ; : é ‘ é . 342 Head of blessbuck and bontebuck rams, showing difference of face markings. F ; - 343 Tailpiece : ; : : ‘ ; : . : : ‘ - 345 A Breath from the Veldt CHAPTER I “Or the making of books there is no end”—especially of books on South Africa. What right have I then—a man with no pretension to literary craftsmanship—to foist on the public another volume on a subject of which everybody knows, or thinks he knows, everything worth knowing? “ Another book on South Africa! Bless my life, have not we had enough of it already— of its Boers and buffaloes, its gold and diamonds ; of trekking and camping-out, and all the rest of it?” I fancy I hear some such exclamation from a fastidious critic as soon as this modest venture of mine is submitted to his notice. Here it is, however, a candidate for the favour of the great B. P. ; and as nobody else is likely to apologise for its appearance or blow a trumpet in advance, I must do it myself, leaving my readers to imagine the “blush unseen” with which I speak of my own work. It is hard to judge art from too severe a standpoint when the production of drawings has to be undertaken under unfavourable circumstances. Neither has it been my good fortune to have any art education whatsoever, or who knows that I might not have blossomed into a great artist, like Mr. Aubrey Beardsley, for instance? Still, in the wild solitudes where for nearly a year it was my privilege to wander, I found a pencil no small help to my notes, and I hope my readers will not be altogether disappointed with the result. My aim, I may say at once, has been to avoid as far as may be the ground covered by other and abler writers, and to treat only of what has come under my own observation as a sportsman and a naturalist. In the earlier chapters are some details of bird and beast that the general reader may be glad to skip; but apart from these he may, I hope, find some- B . A Breath from the Veldt thing to interest and perchance amuse him in the wild life of the forest and the desert as presented here from notes made on the spot. And now to my tale. Some two years ago, having just finished Mr. Selous’ latest and most admirable book, I started for South Africa with the settled con- viction that there was nothing more to be said on the subject. And yet I had not been in Cape Town six hours before I found myself sitting down on the beach and making sketches of the funny little ways of a lot of cormorants as they disported themselves at my feet in the waters. Then said I to myself, “ If they interest me, perhaps they will somebody else,” and forthwith I began to make notes of what I saw. The notes grew day by day as other things attracted my attention, and finally I fell a victim to the South African Book disease from which so many of my fellow-countrymen have suffered. Its effect upon some of them is truly wonderful. A man lands, say, about the end of February, when the days are beginning to be cool and pleasant, and he notices with surprise the general lethargy and indolence of the inhabitants. He is himself brisk and active after his voyage; his brain, wearied perhaps at starting, has received a tonic, and as he walks down Adderly Street he begins to think what a fine fellow he is by comparison with the men he meets. That is the first symptom of the disease. The second is his notebook, in which he jots down at once what is passing in his mind. Before he has been a week in Cape Town the fever is in full swing. He has collected from one source or other sufficient information for a couple of chapters on the Colony and its government, and is full of suggestions for the better ordering of the community. A visit to Port Elizabeth and Johannesburg furnishes him with material for a chapter on big game shooting and the gold mines; and, coming across a renegade Boer who can speak English, he gathers from him many startling facts about “ Onsland” that exist only in the addled brains of road-riders and bar- loafers. The climax of the disease is reached when the sufferer publishes his work (at his own expense) and sticks his friends for a copy, with a handsome portrait of himself as a frontispiece. The voyage to the Cape is the very calmest and consequently pleasantest that can be taken from our shores, as the conditions of weather are nearly always favourable after the dreaded “ Bay” is passed, and every passenger on board has full opportunities for indulging his or her particular form of lazy or healthful recreation. ‘There are the usual sports got up during the cooler portions of the day, and dances and entertainments of various kinds serve to enliven the even- ings. The “Castle” line is famous in this respect. To enhance the pleasure (41 GNaOd FAVH ANVW SV) VOIWAY HLNOs ao Ce, oe <— e Ea) ppuowg | -ANLEY) 19})2) ania si S940 Ye Ppevau “NO 10800. Py) 76 No SERRE TE RE SYM JPY BOS By los \ : eel poke Sry andeayy jah TvadI FHL—volddv HLNOs ee ae a ‘ -fdaax> Kyou sneer \ : . s wrwysybu \ TaD Geng af 24 M80, 38 ON "PS a citct “¥ Lara Pra ay gees “wapreny Sov [Yu : “SS y Ay q von aroy my) A Breath from the Veldt 155 come in any case; for ever since the entrance of the British South Africa Company, the Matabele had been as a thorn in their side that must be got rid of before any advance could be made in Mashonaland and the countries to the north. The rights and wrongs of that war have been freely discussed, deprecated by extreme sentimentalists who never had to deal with a black man, and boomed by those whose business it was to try and make a sort of hybrid Golconda and Arcadia of lands which, with the exception of certain tracts, are at present about as useless to the white man as the Desert of Sahara. On the whole, however, it was only one step more towards the civilisation of Africa, and the putting an end for ever to the last remaining savage Power in South Africa, whose doings have long been a byword for whole- sale bloodshed and murder. Of the six most characteristic types of the native races of South Africa my readers may perhaps gain some superficial idea from the ac- companying sketches, taken direct from nature. Both physically and mentally the pure Zulu is far ahead of all the other tribes either here or elsewhere, the higher type of the Matabele only excepted. Though still the true savage in barbaric cruelty and love of shedding blood, there is ‘© UMSHETI ” much in his nature that savours of the old days of chivalry. There is also a certain amount of poetry in his composition, enabling him to follow, however imperfectly, the higher flights of the white man’s imagination, which the low type of humanity presented by nearly all other African natives can never reach. His good qualities are numerous—such as great bravery, incessant cheerfulness, personal cleanliness, and honesty and faithfulness to a master whom he respects and loves. With him may be classed a few Matabele such as I have referred to above 156 A Breath from the Veldt —men who sprang originally from the best stock in Zululand, but have now got pretty well mixed by intermarriage with other tribes. A good example, and a very fine type of cranial development, is shown in “ Umsheti,” Lobengula’s Prime Minister. His is a face of great intelligence and character. The rough sketch I give of him was done from nature ; and a tough job I had to get the old man to sit still or look at me. Suffering badly from indigestion at the time, he was not in the most heavenly of tempers, so I had more than ordinary trouble to get anything like a fair presentment of his fine head. Next in the downward grade one would class the pure Basuto, together with a large number of other tribes which vary enormously from types quite as fine as the Zulus, down to a much lower form. In this class may be placed the M’Pochs and Shangans (who are really sub-branches of the Zulus), the M’Yambans, the Amatongas, the Swazis and Bamangwato. Thirdly comes a much lower type again—the Maketese ; and then the Mashunas, a race altogether mongrel and mixed, for there is no such thing as a pure Mashuna. The Hottentots seem to form a distinct branch all to themselves, with their yellow skins and short, well-made bodies. Their intelligence far surpasses that of any of the native races, though they too often lack the honesty and faithfulness which are such fine attributes of the better type of black man. Then come the Ovampos, Damaras, and Masarwa bushmen of the Kalahari; and finally, the old colony bushmen, now well-nigh extinct, whose cranial development and modes of life are of so low a type that one can readily accept Darwin’s theory of their affinity to the Anthropoid apes. Whilst returning from the koodoos with the donkeys we found a good deal of fresh spoor of the reedbuck, and after working all the afternoon homewards, an old ewe of this species sprang up close to Oom and galloped away, heading, as is their wont, straight away from the reeds for the bush. She was still going at full speed when the old hunter fired at her; and a prettier shot with the rifle I never witnessed, for the bullet struck her fairly in the middle of her back and caused her to turn a complete somersault, like a shot rabbit. Prince and I put down our rifles and applauded the old man loudly, at which I fancy he was much pleased, though too modest to say so. If he had been an ordinary Dutchman he would have told you he did that sort of thing every time. Now shooting any of these South African antelopes on the move is a decidedly difficult feat, unless they are very near and very big. They advance A Breath from the Veldt Tey by a series of great bounds, very different from the machine-like trot of deer. Moreover, none of them gallop absolutely straight away from the shooter, but each separate bound is made more or less to one side or the other as the animal chooses its ground; soa galloping shot at 100 yards at a small buck is really something to be proud of when the bullet finds its billet. The reedbuck (Cervicapra arundineum) is still found in fair numbers in Mashonaland, but only in the more isolated hunting-grounds of to-day. Since it is both the tamest and easiest buck in South Africa to approach and kill, and it frequents the dry grass sluits in the vicinity of water, where waggons BPiceees Amlens Coarect Koley hed raed He Wigan Grae rable oe 1s a PRINCE AND DONKEYS CARRYING GAME TO WAGGON are bound to stand, one cannot but fear that its days are numbered. Except here and there one, it has already disappeared from the Transvaal and southern countries. It is a graceful antelope, about midway in size between a roe and a fallow deer, and possessed of a long rufous coat, with white under-parts and a pair of the most lovely eyes in existence. In moments of alarm the ears are thrown forward to an unusual extent, and the nose, when seen in profile, presents a curious. ridge-like excrescence not yet found in the taxidermic establishments of Piccadilly, Wardour Street, or Camden Town. Though elegant in form, this buck is but a poor mover. It commonly moves in a long rolling gallop, keeping up the same pace over either very 158 A Breath from the Veldt good or very bad ground, and it always heads right away with its mate from the reeds, where it is generally found, to the sanctuary of the bush. Should the bush not be thick it is not a difficult animal to run up to, as it tires almost sooner than any of the species. Reedbucks, particularly the females, will lie very close, like rabbits, and if suddenly alarmed they squat flat on the ground, as I had one day a good opportunity for seeing. He, therefore, who desires to shoot a couple of heads of this buck will often have to work hard for days in the dry sluits, with both gun and rifle, even though the bucks be fairly THE REEDBUCK IN TWO ATTITUDES OF ALARM numerous. If found in a very large water-course, the reedbuck will often not leave the open grass, but will run for half a mile or so and then stand and gaze back at his pursuer. The sportsman should keep out of sight as much as possible, and then he may probably be rewarded by seeing his game again squat, when he can walk right up to him. The animal is, I fancy, fond of feeding and moving about at night; for at a point between the Nuanetsi and Lundi rivers, at which I afterwards camped, hardly a day passed without hearing the loud whistles of these bucks at all hours of the night as they passed close to the waggon. At Gong we stayed for six days, while the Dutchmen were discussing the BLACK-CROWNED WEAVER BIRDS A Breath from the Veldt 161 ‘situation, and having finally settled to leave Frau Van Staden and her family for the next few months, we all trekked eastward to the Nuanetsi. During these days we hunted hard, every man of us, to try and get enough meat to keep the old lady and her family till Hert and Petrus should return, as they were to accompany us for some distance and then go back to stay and take care of her. All the Dutchmen were fairly successful, Petrus particularly so, killing in the four days one koodoo bull and one cow, and three waterbuck ewes; whilst Tace got two koodoo cows, the old man two steinbucks, and myself and Hert nothing but an old wart-hog, with which I was particularly pleased, though the others did not think much of it as they could not convert it into “ biltung.” During my hunt (sometimes alone and sometimes with Hert) I was in great hope of seeing roan antelope, some fresh spoor of which we saw daily ; but what game there was had been evidently much disturbed, and had moved far from the water after drinking. For five days I saw nothing, till, returning one evening from the Gong Hills, we came across a solitary koodoo cow ; and as we wanted the meat for the old lady, we gave chase at once. Though I had a good chance, and Hert a better one, we fairly muddled it, and the buck got clear away untouched after about ten minutes’ chase. Soon afterwards we turned our horses’ heads for home ; and there, in some open glades within thirty yards of us, stood Mr. and Mrs. Pig and the entire Pig family, so I got off quietly and had a nice easy shot at the old warrior. A loud squeal told at once that he had received my message, upon which he started off after the rest with a broken shoulder, but only went a short distance, for Hert took up his spoor very nicely, while I flattered myself I was doing rather well in the trail of what proved to be the quite scatheless old sow. A whistle from Hert, however, brought me quickly to him, and there lay old Ugly m extremis, with his back up against a bush and his fiendishly hideous head and fine tusks directed towards us—dying as he had lived, hard. Notwithstanding his excessive ugliness the wart-hog looks what he is, a toughened old soldier seasoned by many a battle, and arouses in the heart of the hunter a sense of respect for the indomitable pluck which characterises all the members of his family throughout the world. For sheer dogged obstinacy and fierce expression, he has probably no equal; and though in my small experience of the animals I never saw any of those hostile demonstrations that one reads of in books, I can imagine that, if suddenly encountered after a slight wound, he might prove a very dangerous beast. Y 162 A Breath from the Veldt The last few days at Gong were not particularly pleasant. Every day some one would come with the usual startling Matabele news, and I was afraid our boys might leave us—a misfortune only too common when one has to trust to natives. Happily for us, we were particularly lucky in our followers, or all our plans might have been upset. I thought it well, however, to hurry on Oom in the construction of the rough little waggon which he was making of old wheels and poles of wood for our journey into the “fly”; and as to the LS ; Ky Me ® r \ deg dui OOM ROELEF’s OUTSPAN AT GONG boys, we filled their bellies with good meat as the surest way to their hearts, and continued to hope for the best. I was particularly fond of « Office,” my Shangan boy, whose good-nature and unvarying cheerfulness was a treat even under the most depressing circum- stances. One night, through Teenie, who speaks Zulu perfectly, I had a long talk with him about his superstitions, beliefs, and past life. His ideas about Englishmen were interesting. They come, he said, from the bottom of the sea ten days to the eastward of Delagoa Bay. There they live entirely under dWvVO OL JNVO ONIMVUd AO GOHLIW TIvnsn LYLE A Breath from the Veldt 165 water, with the salt waves splashing over them! I did not know this before, and may perhaps be excused if I continue to doubt the fact, even though backed by the authority of the natives up the Congo on the west coast of Africa, who entertain pretty nearly the same ideas as to the home and habits of the British race. The belief may possibly have originated with cannibal races of days gone by ; for, apart from the superstitious dread with which the natives regard the white man, few of them care to kill him for food, his flesh being, it is said, so impregnated with salt as to be almost uneatable. Cannibals much prefer their own kind, as related in Romilly’s Pacific, and that most interest- ing of all books on native life, In Savage Africa, by Captain Winwood Reade. The Shangans believe that they themselves originated from a common mother, who sprang from the reeds by some river, and that death is the end of all things; there is nothing whatever beyond the grave. Office thinks, moreover, that the English come to Africa to get “biltung” and then go home and buy wives; while Pompoom affirms that they come over to keep dry, as in England it is always raining. They are certainly “dry” enough, in one sense of the word, when they get there. In fact, I never saw so many thirsty Englishmen in all my life as in Johannesburg, where every second man who “ has a few minutes to spare” seems to be afflicted with the hand-to-mouth disease. Two hyenas come every evening to make night hideous, sleep fitful, and dogs excited. Teenie tried to poison them with strychnine, but I am inclined to think that the drug agrees with them, for they have already disposed of four doctored pieces of meat, without any apparent result. No one can imagine the profound and weird melancholy of the spotted hyzna’s howl. Tom Hood might have added to his inimitable verses of the “‘ Haunted House” order, had he ever heard the sound on a dark African night ; and no picture of the brute when emitting it—not even the powerful black-and-white light effects of a Gustave Doré—could convey to the reader the “ Hark to the Tomb” effect on eye and brain that the sound of their voices creates. The last night of our stay at Gong I went to bed early and tired, after five hard days in pursuit of roan antelopes, without any result. About ten o'clock one of the hyznas returned and began one of his awful howls within (I should guess) forty yards of the waggon. He had taken the poisoned bait, and never in my life have I heard anything more human and heart-rending than the cries he emitted some two or three minutes afterwards. Personally I did not much care for this barbarous method of killing animals; but really dangerous and offensive brutes like lions, leopards, and hyenas have, I suppose, 166 A Breath from the Veldt to be got rid of anyhow as civilisation advances. In about five minutes the groans and screams got fainter and fainter, and we concluded that we should find the hyena dead next morning by the water. But not a bit of it! Nature had for the third time come to his assistance: he got rid of his poison without drinking a drop of water, and for anything I know, he is still alive. The following morning, after many farewells and good wishes from Oom Roelef’s family, we left Gong for the east ; and glad I was to get away. At parting the old lady embraced me warmly, and went so far as to call me her “dear Jan,” from which it will be gathered that we had been getting on rather well of late. I could not help smiling at the earnest way in which she confided her “man” to my care, as if I had to look after him instead of his seeing that I did not get lost—really the chief danger in South Africa. I liked the old body very much, as she was always honest and kind to me, and it was only when things went a bit wrong that she lapsed into the temporary indulgence of Dutch Billingsgate. Oom, I could see, was rather’ uneasy at leaving them this time unprotected, as they would be for a few days till Petrus and Hert returned, the more so as amongst the natives the rumours about the Matabele were taking a somewhat serious tone ; but Frau Van Staden showed herself as plucky as other Dutch women who on thousands of occasions have bravely followed the fortunes of their husbands through the troublous times of the past one hundred years in South Africa. Fearful stories one hears round Dutch camp fires of the sufferings these brave women had to undergo, of which the big Lake Ngami trek is a good instance. One cannot quite agree with the contemptuous aspersions that are cast by many on Dutch character and Dutch courage ; for amongst these people, particularly the women, there has always been that indomitable spirit of self-reliance which, whatever their other failings may be, calls for the admiration of the world. GAME SLEDGE FOR STANDING CAMP CHAPTER VI Monpay, 12th June, saw us once more on the move, travelling north-eastward along a hunters’ trail, towards the Bubye River. The following day we reached Michelfontein, a lovely spot standing amongst big trees, and adorned Sipe HEAD OF AN-ADULT REEDBUCK, SHOWING SOFT HORN BASES | with what I had never expected to see—a real “ Afric’s sunny fountain,” with no humbug about it. Water clear and crystal as a Highland stream, and 1 T give the above photo to support the illustration on page 169, wherein I wish to introduce to my naturalist readers a very remarkable fact with regard to adult reedbuck rams. All ruminating animals have curious pouches of musky secretions situated in-various parts of the body, and the use of these to the animal does not yet seem to be known. Most of them have only the tear duct or suborbital sinus full of an oily mucus which at certain seasons becomes highly inflamed and discharges. In the deer, klipspringer, and Indian blackbuck this is developed to an extraordinary extent ; whilst the gnus, hartebeests, and gazelles have in addition little pockets in front of and just above the hoofs, in which is also secreted an oil gland. Mr. Baillie Grohmann informs me that both the chamois and the. White Rocky Mountain goat have a pouch con- 168 A Breath from the Veldt swarms of beautiful yellow fish breaking its glassy surface. A day’s halt, and we hunted onwards towards the Bubye, passing through alternate forest and waterless park-like country. There was a great quantity of apparently fresh roan antelope spoor, so we momentarily expected to encounter a troop of these animals, but were again disappointed ; other hunters were before us, and the tracks were a week old. On approaching the Bubye, we found the country more open, and when within three miles of the river the old hunter and myself, with Piet and Tace on the farther side, entered and worked the great dry sluit which runs at right angles to it. Here we expected to find reedbuck or waterbuck, both of which my companion said had been numerous the previous year. After working down the middle of the great watercourse, we formed line, and beat the country before us with considerable success. After a time up sprang an old reedbuck ram, his wife, and a young ram, and by careful manceuvring I got an easy shot at the big ram, but made an inexcusable miss. Shortly afterwards Oom had an equally good chance, but his cartridge missed fire, though a minute later Tace and Piet killed an old ewe, and we left them behind to pack the beast on one of the ponies and bring it to camp. Nearly an hour elapsed before we saw anything more, and I was thinking of leaving the sluit, as, owing to invisible holes under the long grass, I had to scramble along under difficulties, and could hardly keep my small pony on his legs, when suddenly I saw Oom signalling to me to come to his side of the water- course. I accordingly got off the pony, and dragged him over one of the great mud-holes which intersected the ground in every direction, when a fine reedbuck sprang up within a few yards of me, and going slowly over a big dip, stood nicely at about fifty yards, offering me an easy shot, which I fortunately turned to good account. Oom arrived and helped me to put the buck on my pony, and we reached the road half an hour later, just in time to see a most entertaining chase. Flying down from the bush came a herd of waterbuck— six ewes, and an old ram—going, as they generally do, in a long string with intervals, their heads carried well up and the old ram a good lumbering last. Immediately in their wake were the two Basadanotes, who had again found us, and Hert. All three were well mounted, and were rapidly gaining on the taining the same strong-scented secretions situated immediately behind the horns on the top of the skulls. I think, therefore, that the reedbuck ram, which has no suborbital sinus, has the oil glands situated actually in the base of the horns themselves, and that by this inflammation and consequent action at certain periods (July, August, and September) the whole of the lower parts of the horns becomes soft and pink, exactly like the head of an immature animal in a state of growth. A Breath from the Veldt 169 buck. Two ewes of the troop they had already killed, and it looked as though these Dutchmen were about to bag the rest of them for their beloved “biltung”; but fortune favoured the waterbucks. Rough ground riddled with holes was all right for them—they were used to it—and when they reached the edge of the sluit, away they went as easily as if they were on a turnpike road, whilst the horses in pursuit were all at sea and compelled to move warily for fear of broken legs. The Basadanotes followed the troop a short distance, but Hert, who was a poor rider at best, greeted his mother Bokimebitly fete a Swfiftyre HEAD OF A REEDBUCK IMMEDIATELY AFTER DEATH Showing curious shape of the nose and soft flesh-coloured bases to the horns. earth with more force than tenderness, and proceeded to vent his displeasure on his poor horse (an excellent and willing animal, who was not to blame) by a series of kicks in the stomach and many Dutch oaths. For my part, I was not at all sorry that the waterbucks got away, for it is the slaughter of the ewes of all species that plays havoc with the game of the country. There are always plenty of wandering males in search of troops of females with or without an owner, and the destruction of a limited number of these makes little difference ; but when the females suffer constant persecution, the days of all big game are numbered. Z 170 A Breath from the Veldt And here I should like to say a few words about African hunting as it impressed me. To enjoy it a man must have a good firm seat on a horse, good nerve, and at least some knowledge of natural history. These three qualifica- tions are absolutely essential to anyone who means to kill game himself. Without them he can do nothing, but with them and with unlimited patience he will sooner or later stand over any beast he longs to possess. He need only be a very ordinary rifle shot to commence with, for months of hard exercise and plain living will work wonders with his shooting ; and, with good luck, he may at any rate obtain specimens of all the larger game in a year’s hunting. Being a fine rifle shot is not, therefore, a sie gud non, as it is in some other parts of the world ; a man whoisa fine and fearless rider, has quick percep- tion and good eyesight, and is a moderate shot, will do twice as well in Africa as a first-class rifle shot who is lacking in the other qualities. All the most successful African hunters have been generally very ordinary shots, though well qualified in other respects and very strong, as a man must be to stand the wear and tear of veldt life. The life may be roughly described as follows: You rise on the first paling of the sun in the eastern horizon, when the cocks are trying to crow beneath the waggon; tell your black boy to make up his fire and put the kettle on to boil. There is no need to bother yourself as to “ whether it’s dry, or whether it’s hot ; as you've got to weather it, whether or not.” Blessed Africa ! it is always going to be a fine day there—sometimes too fine. You dress yourself quickly, see that your horse has his morning feed of mealies or Kaffir corn, and swallow your own breakfast of tea and buck with a gusto such as only a hunter when the breath of the veldt is upon him knows anything of. Another ten minutes, and you and your companion have lighted your pipes, seen to your rifle and cartridges, skinning-knife, etc., and are in the saddle and heading for the nearest bush. If you are in a “Thirst” country, you take, of course, a water-bottle, and never go out without matches, as you never know when you will get back. Suppose, now, that you have viewed a troop of buck ; they will generally move a few steps forward on seeing you, and then you and your companion will have time to see if the old ram’s head is any good. If it is, dismount quickly and take as steady a shot at him as you can—he is generally standing broadside on to you from fifty toa hundred yards off—and then, unless the animal is so hard hit that you can readily get up to him on foot, jump on to your horse as soon as possible, canter quickly after him, and try to find out the effect of your shot. By remounting at once you can see directly the line of the animal’s retreat, and, whether he be slightly wounded * e ‘ : ie Legh WATERBUCK ON THE MOVE A Breath from the Veldt 173 or missed, you will often by judicious management get a second shot nearly but not quite as good as the first. All these big African antelope are slow to take serious alarm, so several good chances are sometimes obtained at one or more REEDBUCKS AND SCREAMING EAGLE where they have not been repeatedly harassed. If, however, the bucks show no inclination to stand again after your first shot, keep them well within sight, following about a hundred yards in the rear, and ready to jump off at any moment when they seem disposed to halt. Hard riding, in the hope of 174 A Breath from the Veldt running down the animal, is advisable only when the country is open, your horse is fresh, and the head of the coveted buck good enough to risk a bad fall, laceration by thorns, and the chance of losing yourself in the veldt. According to my humble experience I should say the roan antelope can be fairly run to a standstill in four miles, an old koodoo bull in two, and a waterbuck in three— I mean by a man on an ordinary mount not specially gifted with speed and endurance—while it would require something quite out of the ordinary in the way of horseflesh to run down a sable bull in fair chase. The latter, like the wildebeests, is not only by far the most tenacious of life of all the antelopes, but has such splendid bottom that I should think it is seldom run down by the hunter. Now it often happens that, owing to the denseness of the thorns, even the best hunter can only follow his game in the forest for a very short distance. In such cases it is better to retrace your steps to the spot where your shot has been taken, and examine the ground carefully where the animal has been standing, and the line of his ultimate retreat. And here comes in the noble art of spooring, a science in which the hunter can never hope to obtain any degree of excellence under three or four years. The amateur sportsman will therefore do well to leave that to his white or black companion, whose practical knowledge of the work should be made sure of before you engage him, since that is the principal part he has to play. Fenimore Cooper, in his blood- curdling tales of Indian life in days gone by, would lead us to believe that “ the noble red man” could follow the trail of a wounded beast as no white man could ever hope to do; but from what I heard and saw in the Rockies, I should say this is only one of the many pretty fictions with which novelists are wont to adorn these evil-smelling and treacherous people. To-day the white and half breed hunters certainly equal and in many cases surpass the Redskins in the knowledge of woodcraft, though the white man cannot, I think, ever equal on his own ground the eyesight and powers of observation of the black. Possibly, in these points, the very best white hunter might fall little short of a native accustomed to hunting ; but for veldt knowledge, seeing the game, creeping up to it for his shot, and spooring after it is wounded, the native as a born child of the wilderness must ever be superior. As an instance of this, take what was told me by an Englishman and a Dutchman with whom I trekked down country, and who lived at N’gogo in Natal. Some years ago they had stood one winter in the thick bush country to the north of Zululand by St. Lucia Bay. One day a Zulu came to them and said that if they would give A Breath from the Veldt 175 him ten cartridges he would supply them with game during their stay—for they were not on a hunting expedition. That he might possibly do this with advantage to himself seemed likely enough, but before accepting his offer they determined to see whether the man could shoot with his old Martini or not ; so, putting up a good-sized mark at fifty yards, they made him take several shots at it. ‘The results were far from satisfactory. All the bullets flew wide of the mark; so the hunter was voted a fraud who wished to obtain ammunition under false pretences, and was accordingly told to “vamoose.” The Zulu, however, protested, and promised to shoot them an inyala if some cartridges were given him. So at last the Englishman, who wanted a head of one of these antelopes, gave him three cartridges, believing, all the same, that he would never see the Zulu again. About a week after the departure of the black man there was a commotion round the camp fire one evening, and in marched the Zulu, with two other natives, carrying the hides and quarters of two fine inyalas which he said he had shot the evening before in the dense bush some miles away. To make a long story short, the hunter was then given ten more cartridges, and during the stay of my friends he brought in nine beasts, including an old buffalo bull. They were much pleased and still more astonished, not only at the man’s honesty, but at his success as a hunter. His explanation, however, was simple enough : he never fired at a beast at a distance of over ten or twelve yards, and accordingly made sure of his shot every time. I believe this story to be absolutely true, for the Shangan hunters whom I saw afterwards told me the same thing ; they, with their miserable percussion guns, never dreamed of firing at a big animal at over twenty yards. ‘The white man, however learned and experienced, could never hope to attain this success in approaching wild creatures, for all the animals, as a rule, see him before he sees them, so he has to content himself with what he can get at a more respectful distance. It is just possible that the game, accustomed to see natives moving about, may not treat them with the serious consideration and fear with which they notice the white intruder. Moreover, a good black hunter can see the whisk of an antelope’s ear where you, or even a professional white hunter, can hardly detect his whole body even when pointed out. ‘Their quickness in observing signs, too, when a beast has passed, wounded or otherwise, is simply marvellous, forming one of the strongest points of interest amidst the many delights of the chase. Oom Roelef, my dear old hunter, was, I fancy, about as good in the art of spooring and veldt knowledge as any white man ever can be after a life spent in 176 A Breath from the Veldt the wilds of South Africa, and I often used to admire his fine sense of reasoning and observation. Patience and deliberation are the most essential requisites for following a wild beast, dangerous or otherwise, and at this the old man was really first-class. Though slow at times, he seldom made a mistake ; and some of the most delightful recollections I have now of my companion are connected with our wandering along, with senses highly strung and keenly alert, on the trail of some denizen of the forest that had for the time escaped us. Another most essential feature is being able to see the game quickly. Even a big beast like a koodoo bull is sometimes overlooked when the hunter is brought to a standstill by the stems of a wait-a-bit. Everything in Africa is, as a rule, flooded in such a blaze of sunlight that the sight must become accustomed to the peculiar effects of light and shade before one can distinguish at a distance not only form but tones of colour. The Almighty has blessed me with extraordinarily good and quick sight,—I say it not with pride, but with thankfulness,—and as I have hunted birds and beasts since my childhood, I very soon got accustomed to picking up animals when standing in the bush or open, so I had not this, one of the chief difficulties of the hunter, to contend with. After a bit it became a sort of joke with myself and the Dutchmen, for I easily surpassed them in this respect, though they had been at it all their lives. “Jan sees all the game first,” they would say, “and then loses it,” meaning of course that I could not spoor, supposing the animal to have been wounded. What is in most cases a far less agreeable task—indeed real hard work— is making careful drawings of animals after you have shot them. You come into camp, say about eleven o’clock, have some breakfast, and then smoke your pipe. The great heat of the day has now commenced, and as this was the only time I could devote to artistic work, having to keep my journal at night, I found it most disagreeable, especially the close anatomical drawing of muscles, etc., when the skin is removed, and small details and peculiarities of the various birds and animals, without a knowledge of which no artist can hope to make even a moderate picture afterwards. The great heat of the sun at mid-day renders the white man particularly lethargic ; a feeling of intense dolce far niente steals over one, rendering all exertion distasteful ; and but for the pleasure they give to others as well as oneself in after years when the wild life has come to an end, no one could ever bring himself to paint them on the spot. At home I always enjoy my drawing, except that it never satisfies me, and one occasionally feels disposed to get up and dance all over such feeble A Breath from the Veldt 177 presentments of Nature; but drawing in the open air in Africa is a very different thing! Your work there seems far more laborious, and no idea of fudging must be entertained if the stuff is to be of any good. You have not even the consolation of the camera fiend, who shuts up his plate or rolls of film in a dark box and trusts to Providence that the light won’t get in till he gives them to the Stereoscopic Company to print for him. Then, too, there is the constant inspection of visitors, Dutch and black, who press round you as full of information, and as ready to impart it, as that old New Zealand chief whose friends, in reply to an inquiry after him, explained his absence by saying that he gave them so much good advice that they were obliged to put him out of the way. Of either art or nature the Dutchman knows nothing, but he does wash himself now and then; whilst the blacks make intelligent observations but smell badly. So you see, your choice of companions depends to some extent upon the sensitiveness of your nasal organ. The ignorance of the Dutchman is both proverbial and astounding. I give the following as a common example of Dutch criticism. Scene: The waggon. Enter Oom Roelef, his two fat sons, and two strange Dutchmen going down country. Introduction, followed by raising of hat with left hand, shaking hands with right. Interchange of tobaccos and prolonged stares. After which the following conversation (literal translation) :— Oom Roelef: “ Will Jan be pleased that he shall show to my friends the prints that he has made of the game and myself?” Jan replies in bad Dutch that he will be delighted. Sketch produced— Oom Roelef’s head. Ques. ‘* Well, ’m damned! Who is the man?” Ans. “It’s Oom Roelef’s head.” Ques. “Oom Roelef’s head? Where’s his rifle ?” Ans. “Oh, it is not in the picture.” Ques. ‘Why have you not made the waggon and the oxen too?” Ans. “There was not space for that.” Ques. “ How do you make that? do you make it with the hand?” Ans. “Yes” (he would have been equally satisfied if I had said I had done it with my foot). Some minutes afterwards I heard one saying to the other that I was a big liar, as I could not possibly do these things without a machine of some sort. Next sketch : Study of some lions attacking a buffalo bull, and trying to disable it by hamstringing. I thought this a rather interesting picture, and 2 & 178 A Breath from the Veldt was at considerable trouble to present the situation exactly as described by Van Staden, who had been a close observer of this stirring incident. Ques. “ What is this?” One of Van Staden’s sons, immediately volunteering imformation— Ans. “That? That is some Boer dogs hauling a cow to be inspanned.” Yes, oli yes.” The natives, however, are far more intelligent than this. A Shangan hunter, Clas, whom I afterwards had with me for a month, on my showing him this same sketch one day, was delighted with it. He grunted and ho-hoed considerably, grasping the situation at once, and naming the animals and trees correctly. In fact, he never gave a wrong name to anything I showed him. “Gentleman,” the Shangan boy, was very quiet, and hardly ever laughed or talked like the other boy, “ Office,” but towards the end of our trip he blossomed out considerably, and above all things seemed to take » an interest in my drawings. I used to sit and sketch up on the kartel of the waggon, where the breeze was nice and cool. If Gentleman was about, few minutes would elapse before his black poll would appear about the horizon of the karosses, and standing on the steel brake at the back of the waggon, he would watch me as long as I cared to let him. When taken no notice of, he would begin to talk good-naturedly in a mixture of half Zulu and half Dutch, and always gave the right names of things as they grew on the paper beneath my hand. Sometimes, out of fun, he would give wrong names to see if I would notice it and understand. If I observed the mistake and understood the wrong word he had made use of, it tickled him immensely, and he would chuckle with delight. And here let me say that though the painting of wild animals at large in their own haunts is one of the most interesting pursuits, it is at the same time one of the most difficult tasks to which an artist can set himself, if he would do justice to his subject as well as his craft. I do not say this because I have entered this field myself, but because of the ridiculous criticism one too often hears, or reads in the papers, on illustrations of birds and animals. An artist may be a first-class performer as a draughtsman, composer, and master of light and shade, and yet draw down upon himself the laughter of the experienced sportsman and naturalist when he attempts to show what birds and beasts are like in their wild state. And the reason is plain enough : he is neither a sportsman nor a naturalist—very few artists are—and has therefore to rely entirely on his skill in making a nice picture at the expense of truth. Seldom, indeed, has an artist working for his living either means Swan Blectric Engraving 82 a ay Ung ieee D es ¢ YY, Vis OT Ba A Breath from the Veldt 179 or opportunity for becoming a hunter too, and searching for and studying the wild creatures in their own homes, even if his inclination runs that way ; and hence a certain form of illustration has grown up in our books the interest of which is in inverse proportion to its theatrical and sensational character. We have got a bit sick now of these conventional lions, buffaloes, and elephants in a chronic state of charge. One or two pictures of these animals charging, if well done, are always pleasant to the eye, but a whole series of this same thing, such as we have now in nearly every book on Africa—even when fairly well done (and few of them are that)—is as nauseating as the bulk of political speeches in these days of working-man worship. Only one man towers above the heads of all other artists of wild beasts and birds of this or any other time—Joseph Wolf—and he, strange to say, has never seen any big creatures roaming about, except German wild boars and stags. Yet, broadly speaking, he is the greatest master of animal life (not even excepting Landseer) that ever lived; and though some few naturalists and sportsmen—happily a daily increasing body—have had full knowledge and appreciation of this truly great man’s work for the past fifty years, it is astonish- ing how little known his work is. It may perhaps seem presumptuous on my part to criticise the works of Landseer as compared with those of Wolf; but as alittle boy I believe I once sat on Landseer’s knee, and, armed with pencil and paper, devoted half an hour of my valuable time to teaching him how to draw deer! It will be seen, therefore, that “modesty of nature” is not altogether a strong feature of my composition ; but, joking apart, I think I have at least as much right to criticise the works of these two artists as some of the art reviewers in the daily papers, who hardly know a duck from an owl, or a deer from an antelope. I have at least been trying to the best of my ability to master some portion of this field of art for the last ten years, and at any rate I know how hard the task is, how easy it is to make mistakes, and how extremely difficult it is to produce good work. Sir Edwin Landseer was one of the ablest delineators of sympathy and sentiment that ever lived, while his composition and drawing—it seems a platitude to say so—were as perfect as anything the world has ever seen. His dogs and deer and domestic animals are in nearly every case perfection, but even without them his landscapes would live on their own merits alone. Against this, however, must be set off the fact that Landseer often failed as a colourist ; and when he plunged into natural history, which he knew but little about, he made most absurd mistakes. In point of sentiment and execu- 180 A Breath from the Veldt tion nothing finer has ever been done than the “ Shepherd’s Chief Mourner,” while, from the naturalist’s point of view, no greater rubbish was ever turned out than the “Eagles attacking a Swannery.” And yet—it does not matter who you are—when you gaze on this picture you are entranced with it. The subject, execution, feeling, and composition are alike superb, but it is simply the most ridiculous nonsense as representing a truthful scene from nature, and in addition to this the eagles are dreadfully out of drawing. The eagles repre- sented are the white-tailed species, till recently common on the coasts of Scotland. In habits this eagle is almost vulturine, and being of a cowardly nature and subsisting chiefly on fish, it rarely musters sufficient courage to attack a farmyard and carry off an old hen. When it does—as has often been seen—it will drop its prey like a hot coal on the slightest appearance of a cock coming to the rescue. Its claws, indeed, are not of sufficient power to strike and kill a bird of any size, and living as it does to a large extent on offal, it would just as soon think of striking a Piccadilly omnibus as a full- grown swan. Landseer had evidently been listening to some stories of peregrine falcons cutting down birds in mid-air, and thought it was a splendid subject when he put in the eagle in the background breaking a swan’s neck by a single blow as it goes whizzing through space. Without detracting for one moment from the merits of so great a genius, I think he must have got a bit hipped with public criticism sometimes, and knowing the taste of the British public for the sensational at the expense of the truthful, he produced such a picture as “’The Monarch of the Glen.” This is really the ideal stag—not the real one—and Landseer did not think much of it himself. By a cunning subduing of the landscape, he intensified the attraction of the central figure. I think I might even say it was a beauti- ful pot-boiler, for I know several little stories in connection with that picture. Though probably Landseer’s best known and most popular picture, it is but a poor production by comparison with the stag in “ Browsing”—the most perfect Highland stag ever painted. To be a great animal painter the artist must have a thorough knowledge of the anatomy as well as the habits of birds and beasts, and this knowledge means long practice and wide experience. The average man who can paint a duck beautifully goes all to pieces over a hawk or a gull, and so on, simply because he has not given, as he ought to have done, months of separate study to each and every species throughout the animal kingdom. To those then who know what a bird and a beast should be, how great is the genius of a A Breath from the Veldt 181 man like Wolf, who has attempted all, and what is more, succeeded in all. Nil tetigit quod non ornavit. The British public cannot be said to know Wolf. They do not understand his work, and have seen but little of it; for he has rarely exhibited of late years, and being a modest and charming old gentleman, he is above the throng of mediocrities who are ever pushing and advertising themselves, and require an art critic to discover them once in six months. He still leads his quiet life in the studio by the Zoo, where I had the pleasure of seeing him lately, and though of advanced age, his hand and eye have lost none of their cunning. When Wolf has gone’ there will be no one to take his place in animals, though in birds we now have Mr. Thorburn. This great painter of animal life will probably be well and widely known as soon as he has passed away, and only the touch of his master-hand remains in the homes of those who could appreciate him in his lifetime. How great was the admiration of Landseer himself for Wolf was told me in the following little story by the late Lord Tweedmouth, in whose house the two great artists were both staying and working. I must first, however, inform the reader that Landseer was a firm believer in the pre-existence of man in other forms. One day Wolf was busy finishing one of the superb panels which grace the walls of Guisachan (Lord Tweedmouth’s lovely seat in Ross-shire), when Landseer and his host returned from stalking, and coming up behind Wolf, who was working, stood gazing at his picture for some time without making any remark. At last Wolf got a bit nervous and fidgeted about. Then turning round to Landseer, on whom he was afraid the picture had created an unfavourable impression :— “Well, Landseer,” he said, “you might say something: I’m afraid you don’t like it.” “Well, not exactly that,” was the dry reply, “for I was just thinking that before you were a man, Wolf, you must have been an osprey” (the bird at which the artist was working). Now I have wandered a long way from my subject; for from the sun- parched wilderness of Africa to art criticism is a big trek; but I hope the reader will forgive me. It is only my admiration for Wolf, and my wish to pay even a small tribute to the genius of the man—a genius which I consider has been grossly neglected—that have led me so far astray. By the Bubye we began to see more signs of game than previously. There was a sprinkling of quite fresh spoor of buffalo, lions, sable antelope, water- 1 Joseph Wolf died July 1899. 182 A Breath from the Veldt buck, and pallah; but during the four days of our stay I was particularly unlucky: I never let my rifle off, except at a duiker, which I missed. All the others, however, got something ; and Piet Landsberg, the first day he Tee NATURE'S PROTEST The above tree is sketched direct from nature as it stands to-day by the Bubye River, and the marks on its trunk tell their own story as plainly as if they had been printed underneath. Some time in 1891 two enterprising Englishmen had reached this spot on the Bubye, and in common with a good many vulgar people, they evidently considered it necessary to carve their names on a tree, that all after-comers might see them. At this part of the Bubye some time very shortly before my arrival there had apparently been much game, which had induced the usual pair or so of lions to follow in their wake and frequent their paths to the water. There was consequently much spoor of these lions (in this case an old lion and lioness) up and down the game track by which the tree stands, and in one of their peregrinations the lion (or, perhaps, the lioness) had stopped at this identical tree, and there had stood up on his hind legs, and gone through the usual process of sharpening his claws on the bark, Nature could not possibly have devised a neater or more apt rebuke to the vulgarity of man than this. was out, fired at a leopard, three koodoo bulls, and a waterbuck, but without success, though unfortu- nately wounding badly two of the koodoos. Like myself, he was only a beginner at spooring, and not only lost his game but very nearly him- self. One day the old man and I were returning after a long day’s hunt, having only seen a few pallah, when we came across a remarkable tree close to the road by the river. On its trunk was written a little history, which told in so many words some interesting details as clearly as if they had been printed there. We had been at the “ Blauw Ghat” (blue water-hole) at the Bubye two days, when one morning Oom Roelef’s brother-in-law, Cornellis Basadanote, turned up. He was a splendid specimen of a man, and had been a hunter all his days, his pres- ent business being a combination of hunter and wild-animal catcher. He had come down the river to beg some medicine for his son, who, he said, was dying of fever. It was dificult to prescribe for a man at a distance when you did not know what condition he was in, so I decided to accompany him and see his camp as well. to a lovely spot amidst great trees overhanging a silvery stream. A ride of two hours brought us Here, on a level plateau, with blue wreaths of smoke curling upward through the great A Breath from the Veldt 183 branches, stood the old hunter’s camp. It was about as picturesque a scene as one could well witness. Two great waggons were joined together by a whitetent, at the door of which stood the womenfolk, and amongst them the distracted mother, who gave me as cordial a welcome as if I had been the head of the College of Physicians. She asked me at once if I could do anything for her boy, and of course I said I could. I had read up my Burroughes and Wellcome pamphlet before starting, and felt myself equal to any emergency after that. The poor boy, about twelve years of age, was evidently in the last stage of collapse, as they had no medicine, and only a little brandy to give him, and I was very glad to have the necessary remedies handy, in the shape of quinine and Warberg tincture. After leaving directions for the sick lad, old Basadanote showed me as usual round his waggons and encampment, the most picturesque item of which was five lovely Burchell’s zebras, perfectly tame and standing quietly munching their hay under the trees. In most cases these zebras, when captured, become quite docile in a few days, and will walk about the camp like dogs, with no further restraint than being picketed for the night. It will be a long time before the memory of that camp scene fades from my mind, with its koodoo heads leaning against the waggon, its suspicious Boer dogs, its stacks of biltong under the drying sheds, its white-capped Dutch women flitting about under the great trees, Zulus cleaning assegais or attending to the horses, and zebras that whisk their tails continuously in the blazing sun. Amongst other animals that Basadanote had killed were a couple of Lichtenstein’s hartebeests. These he had shot to the east of the main road beneath Gong’s Rant, where we had left Frau Van Staden and her family. I should like to record this here, as Lichtenstein’s hartebeest has not previously been known to extend nearly so far west as this; in fact, it is seldom found westward of the plains of the Sabi, Busi, Gorangosi, and Pungwi Rivers. I found a small troop west of the Nuanetsi, and again another near the Lundi. Since the species is now being hunted more in its proper home, a few troops are possibly seeking for peace and quietness by moving farther in from the coast. Oom Roelef, having summed up the extent of the game on the Bubye, said we had better press on, as he feared the young Basadanotes with us were going to attempt a “bluff,” ze. to follow the old hunter, who knew where the game was on the Nuanetsi, and cut in after the buffaloes before we got a chance. So we decided to trek on to the big river, and there give them 184 A Breath from the Veldt the slip, as we were far too many in company, and the Basadanotes were evidently trying to make use of us. After some months of slow and weary travelling we had really seen very little game, but at last came daily increasing signs of all the bigger game; we hoped, therefore, to obtain at least a sight of some of them. Crossing the sandy bed of the Bubye on the morning of 19th June, we entered the great forest Thirstland, which lies between that river and the Nuanetsi, or Manitze, as it is sometimes called. In this expanse of some hundred square miles there is but one water-hole on the old hunters’ trail, Elands Fontein they call it, since so many elands congregated there a few years ago. To this water it is a day and a half’s hard trekking from the Bubye, and we saw nothing on the way but a couple of splendid cock ostriches, which one of the Basadanotes admitted he had a good chance at, but failed to score. The male ostrich looks very showy and imposing when he first starts to run, the beautiful white feathers on his wings and wing coverts being raised and spread out as I have endeavoured to represent in one of the small Karroo sketches. Elands Fontein itself is but another of the usual Afric’s sunny mud-holes, the water being quite undrinkable, except when made into strong tea, and even then it had a sickly, nauseous taste that remained on the palate for some time. 19th ‘fune (Elands Fontein).—The Dutchmen, grievously disappointed at getting no game by the Bubye, say that if the game has trekked from Nuanetsi they will return home. Personally I shall be very glad if they do, as one gets awfully sick of their eternal whining, and I can go on with Oom Roelef into the “fly,” where we are bound to find game sooner or later. And now came another disturbing element that none of us had reckoned on. Petrus returned to-day and reported that whilst out hunting he had encountered a native who was evidently a Matabele slave, and who told him he had been sent by his master to turn us back, and that the Matabele intended to kill every white man in their hunting veldt this winter. This made things assume a more serious aspect in the minds of the Dutchmen. They considered that when troubles were brewing it would not do to leave the old lady and girls with such poor protection; so three days later—when we got to the Nuanetsi—Hert and Petrus returned to Gong, and we saw no more of them for some months. I could not help thinking, about this time, what a lot of delightful fallacies the Englishman of romantic ideas conjures up about Africa as he sits comfortably A Breath from the Veldt 185 ensconced in his arm-chair at the club, surrounded with luxuries of every description. To him Africa does not look half such a rough place as it is painted by those who have been there. On the map the country seems to be intersected with cool rivers and innumerable spots which rejoice in the name of fontein; and through the smoke of a good cigar it is easy to picture the troops of antelope, herds of elephant and buffalo moving down to the sunlit pools to drink, and, wallowing in their depths, the hippopotamus and the alligator. But oh the fraud of those “sunny fountains” that some of us have been taught to believe in! I wish I had here to-day the dear old cleric who wrote that mission hymn, and could see him squirm. It is a beautiful hymn— that “‘Greenland’s icy mountains ””»—but of its geology perhaps the less said the better. Most of the natural features of the universe as described here probably emanated from the good parson’s own romantic brain, or from some favourite Sunday School book of the goody-goody order. There are no mountains to speak of in that world of ice; and as to “India’s coral strand,” coral is not a product of the sea insects of the Indian Ocean, but of the islands of the Pacific. “ Afric’s sunny fountains”! Imagination, dear reader, pure imagination. So, too, are the “ spicey breezes” that sweep over ‘“Ceylon’s isle,” unless the aroma from the native quarters may be held to justify the phrase. Still it is a fine soul-stirring hymn for all that, though, like some famous artists’ pictures, it is not a bit like nature. Many and many a half-crown has it caused to be dropped by tender-hearted old ladies into the mission-bag, though the money would have been far better expended on our own suffering humanity at home. For whatever may be done by such men as Livingstone, Moffat, Mackay of Uganda, or Bishop Hannington, there is nothing to be gained, so far as I can see, by sending out such feeble specimens of missionaries, soft in head as well as in heart, as one too often comes across in foreign lands. They hinder rather than help the cause they are sent to advance. In fact, it is only very great men—born leaders of men—that can obtain a real grasp of the mind of the already happy savage, and place him on a plane where he can appreciate the spiritual advantages of Christianity. All the grass round here for miles is burning. This is done by natives to entice the game, as the first rains on the charred and blackened surface of the ground bring up the young grass shoots, which are an immediate source of attraction. “When things are at their worst they are sure to mend” is a good maxim for the hunter, as for every one else. In proof of it, the day after the above aD 186 A Breath from the Veldt was written the old man and I broke our vein of ill-luck, and were exceptionally fortunate with the game for many days. Not to weary my readers, however, with tales of slaughter that may seem to them unnecessary and therefore unwarranted, I will only describe in detail the death of one of each of the species which we secured. I say we because, although I did the shooting, the old man was instrumental in bringing to bag at least half the animals, which I should certainly have lost had it not been for his “ veldt”” knowledge and woodcraft. Within a ride from the Nuanetsi is a pool where we intended to spend the night before going on to the big river and establishing a standing camp. My Mine dh ihaps | AP pein: HEAD OF A ROAN ANTELOPE COW Showing the peculiar shape of the ears in life, and the position of the white tufts of hair that stand out and cover the suborbital glands. companion and I were approaching this, riding across country under some low hills where the country was somewhat park-like, when the movement of some animal caught my eye, and looking round—for we had passed the spot—I saw what I knew at once was a fine roan antelope jump up from beneath a bush and canter slowly away. A shout from me caused Van Staden to turn round, and we at once gave chase. The antelope, apparently not at all frightened, went about 200 yards only before wheeling round in some thorns to gaze at us. Large as is the body of this fine animal, I had great difficulty in making out his shoulders clearly as he stood in the shade of the bushes. It was a fine old cow with a fair head, and not more than fifty yards away when, jumping off A Breath from the Veldt 187 my horse, I fired, and it fell to the shot, but quickly recovering made off at best pace on three legs. ‘The moment I fired Van Staden took up the running, a plan we found far the best to adopt when the bush was not too thick, as I could then jump on my horse and follow him at once. He would then stop and point out the animal to me as it stood for the second time. In this case the roan only went about 100 yards, so I got very close up and rolled her over with a shot in the heart. What I was much surprised at was the noise she made in receiving the bullet—bellowing loudly, almost like a buffalo— as I never heard any of the other antelopes utter a sound under similar circumstances. The roan antelope (Hippotragus equinus’) at one time ranged from Cape Colony up to Central Africa; but its southern limit may now be said to be the Northern Transvaal, its western range Damaraland, its northern not yet clearly defined, though the species is said to have been seen as far north as the Masai country. This animal, however, is just as likely as not to have been the nearly allied species “ bakeri,” which is known to extend to the verge of the Southern Soudan and equatorial provinces. It has, however, according to Mr. Jackson, been obtained near Lamu, opposite Zanzibar. On the Veldt the roan has a fine and noble appearance, though it does look a bit “front heavy.” It carries its head very finely, but not with the grace and the nobility of the sable. In many respects it resembles its handsomer cousin. Its habits are much the same, being found alike in open or enclosed country, though on the whole it evinces a greater predilection for the great plains with scattered bush, while the sable is fond of climbing about the low rocky hills, or in bush at the base of kopjies. The roan antelope is also a much more regular drinker than the sable, which can go for long periods without requiring water. A troop of the former, if undisturbed, come every evening to about the same spot on some favourite sluit of standing water, while the latter drink irregularly and nearly always about daybreak. Although the roan is a very large animal, standing about 5 feet at the shoulder, the dull reddish-grey of its hide makes it very hard to distinguish in bush, and it would often be passed even in the open lands but for its shy nature, which causes it to start lumbering away as soon as it sees a man on a horse. The sable will stand and stare at you quite close sometimes, as much as to say, “Who the devil are you?” The koodoo will creep under the shadow of a 1 I do not believe in the old blauwbok of Cape Colony as a good species. ‘The only specimen of this antelope, which is reputed to be extinct, is now in the Paris Museum. It is, I think, only a small, faded, and badly-set-up female roan. 188 A Breath from the Veldt thorn bush and hope to “ Goodness gracious” you won’t notice him; but the roan will say “ Good-morning ” as soon as he sees you. Roans seem to keep in much smaller parties than the sables, about a dozen cows being the limit, whilst the old males live much to themselves, and are more difficult to find than they are to bag. When running the roans adopt single file, and each follows closely the steps and movements of the old cow who generally leads. They have a very fair power of endurance, but I think that any decent horse, if properly handled, would run them to a standstill. All hunters, however, are agreed that one should be careful in such experiments, for this antelope is doubtless the most dangerous of all the tribe, there being plenty of authenticated instances of the animals turning and charging furiously when pressed too hard. Mr. Banks, shortly after I met him in Mashonaland, was charged by an old bull he had wounded and followed up too closely in some thick bush. He saw the antelope enter a patch of wait-a-bit before him, and followed as quickly as possible, expecting to see his victim going slowly away before him. Instead of that, however, before he quite knew where he was, the roan turned and charged straight at the hunter, who slipped off over the flank of his steed just as the infuriated beast stuck his horns into the horse’s neck. Mr. Banks managed to regain his feet and to shoot the roan in the head before he could strike him ; and then found his horse was so injured that he was obliged to shoot him also. It will be seen, therefore, that none of these larger African antelope, except perhaps the good-natured and inoffensive koodoo,! are to be trifled with, and least of all the roan. Nearly every hunter of wide experience who has seen much of these animals says the same thing—that he is decidedly dangerous to approach, whether wounded or not—and has some tale to tell about his pluck. The Dutchmen, who are generally pretty much at sea as to the names of the wild game, have never quite made up their minds what to call this animal. They consider that he has absolutely no claims to legitimacy on any score, and half the members of that nation whom you meet will christen it either “bastard eland” or “bastard gemsbok,” both of which are equally ridiculous and inappropriate. ‘Though the animal, when viewed critically, is on the whole imposing and even beautiful, when seen running it looks decidedly clumsy, and wanting in both proportion and elegance ; yet the head, when well set up and viewed among other specimens of African fauna, has a striking and pleasing # Captain Swayne, in his admirable work on Somaliland, gives an instance of a koodoo bull charging a native who had attempted to stop his exit from a gully. UALLVYT AHL AG AGCVN Sddd AHL WOUA LSAITILUVH S NIP LSNELHOIT’ V ONILOIAY AdOTALNY NVOU ¥ A Breath from the Veldt IgI appearance. The fine blending of colours on the face, the white switches of hair over the lachrymal glands standing out over the black of the cheeks, the fine rough neck, and the long queerly shaped ears, all tend to give it the wild game look it certainly possesses. The horns themselves, though not to be compared with those of the waterbuck, koodoos, and sable, are beautifully annulated, and look quite in proportion. Ward gives the maximum of males as 33 inches, and females 304 inches. I would call the attention of the reader, if a naturalist, to the very peculiar shape of the ear, and the way that the white whisps drop from above the lachrymal sinus, making the hairs stand out slightly as they do in life. Of all the larger antelope, except perhaps the eland, the roan is the easiest to kill. If the hunter follows a troop up they will frequently stop and allow several shots to be fired at them ; but he must above all things keep them in good view, for once out of sight the roans know they are likely to be followed up, and it is next to impossible to approach them, their sense of sight and smell is so keen, and they so commonly start running long before you have spotted them. We also saw here much fresh spoor of tssessbe, koodoo, Burchell’s zebra, buffalo and pallah, and hartebeest, which were without doubt Lichtenstein’s, as the common hartebeest is unknown in Mashonaland. From our ultimate search for these animals, there appeared to be only two troops in the neighbourhood ; and though I hunted several days, both going in and coming out, I never once succeeded in properly viewing them. Tace, however, twice obtained several shots at one of the troops, and wounded two bulls, both of which he lost. Lichtenstein’s hartebeest, called by the Dutch “ Moff hartebeest,” takes the place of the common hartebeest, after the Limpopo is passed; and confining itself to the rivers of the east coast of Mashonaland, is not to be met with in the heart of Africa till the Zambesi is reached. From thence northward it is said to be the common hartebeest, till Cokei, Senegalensis, Jacksoni, and Tora take its place in the north-east. In common with several of the other African antelope, the old male Lichtenstein’s hartebeest has a habit of returning to the same spot to rest every evening, if undisturbed. We saw several of their lairs scraped out most comfortably in the red sand. They were quite fresh, and the great quantity of their manure showed how long the same animals had been resort- ing to this spot. Being of a quiet and inoffensive disposition, this hartebeest evidently suffers itself to be bullied by the roan antelope and Burchell’s zebra. Both of these are said to be fond of the beds of the Lichtenstein, and are in the 1g2 A Breath from the Veldt habit of evicting him with horns and teeth when they take a fancy to his comfortable quarters. As I did not myself see this animal in a wild state, I can say nothing as to his appearance and movements; but those who have shot him say that he has a particularly bright and shining exterior, due to the delicate and pale colours of his hide, and that, like the tssessbe, it has a clumsy and “ humpy ” appearance when on the move, though it gets over the ground in a manner which no horse can rival. At the pool by the Nuanetsi we were left by the Basadanotes, who trekked on to the river ; and I was glad of it, though they were good enough fellows in their way. We had been in camp about an hour, and I was drawing the roan antelope’s head, when Petrus came in with a fine young sable antelope bull he had just shot, and Peter with a pallah and a Burchell’s zebra, whilst Tace had wounded and lost a roan antelope and a Lichtenstein’s hartebeest. ‘This began to look more like business, and our hopes now rose considerably. Young Dutchmen are very like overgrown children, and we were all as merry as sand- boys over tea and marrow-bones till some one suddenly jumped up and cried out, “ Kake darso Petrus peart dikkop sickter ha cre!” or words that sounded like that, meaning in plain English, “Look there! there’s Petrus’s horse has got the big horse-sickness.” There was not a doubt about it, for the poor brute, which was quite well an hour before, was standing with lowered head, heaving flanks, and running nose and eyes. We all sympathised with Petrus, who saw the greater part of his worldly possessions dying before his eyes, and did our best to console the owner, but two hours afterwards the poor beast lay down for the third time and died quietly. That night Teenie, who though not a bit of a sportsman, still cherished hopes of taking home some hyena skins, tried his usual bait, a strychnined piece of meat, part of the carcase of the dead horse. The following morning I was lying awake before sunrise, when my attention was attracted by a series of hoarse barks emitted at intervals in the distance. By and by the sounds became distincter, and resolved themselves into a cross between the bellowing of a jackass and the hoarse bark of an aged collie dog. Looking from my bed beneath the waggon, I saw that my old friend was already up, and lighting his pipe at the dying embers. “ Ah, Jan,” he said, as he observed me arising, “do you hear the quaggas coming down to drink?” It was hardly light enough to shoot, so we sat and talked round the fire for a bit, and then I started out a short distance to see if I could find any of the Burchell’s zebras that had been calling. About 500 yards away, on some rising ground, I made out a lot of moving forms, and presently saw a fine troop of 2C STUDY OF A YOUNG SABLE BULL A Breath from the Veldt 195 these animals galloping along the side of the hill, followed by a pillar of dust. A shot was out of the question, so I retraced my steps to the camp for breakfast, before proceeding on our trek through the bush to the Nuanetsi. Burchell’s zebra,! the common zebra of South Africa, has this habit of galloping away from the water after drinking. They are very cautious animals, and proceed slowly to the pools before daybreak, stopping and neighing frequently, hoping no doubt for an answer from others already there, to assure them that the coast is clear. As they are a favourite prey of the lion, who lies in waiting for them at the water-holes, they become very nervous and watchful at this hour of the day, and immediately after drinking gallop off for miles, apparently glad to get away from the dangerous spot. An examination of the spoor showed that this was almost invariably the case, whether in a disturbed country or otherwise, as they consider the lion their chief foe. At times they show an almost stupid disregard of man during the warm hours of the day. Some weeks after this the old man and I came on a troop of these pretty creatures in quite open country. There were about seventy of them, which would be a very big troop anywhere, and I must say they looked splendid. Of course, as I did not want to shoot any, they trotted round us in a big semicircle at about sixty yards, reminding me strongly of a spectacular scene ‘in a circus. They stopped frequently and surveyed us with curiosity, having probably never seen a white man before. The hides of both the zebra and the leopard, gaudy as they appear to us in our sombre climate, are amongst the wonders of creation. Put a dead leopard or zebra under a tree in Africa, and you will hardly notice him at fifteen yards’ distance, the blendings of the yellow and black, when suffused by the sun’s glare, are so remarkably like the dried grass and stemmed trees around. The habits of Burchell’s zebra have been so often described that little remains to be said of them. Like all the wild asses, they are full of curiosity, and easily shot. They can also be readily captured by a good man on a good horse, with the aid of a “ fang-stock.” The fang-stock is a stout stick about 5 feet long, furnished at the end with a running noose, which is dropped over the animal’s head as the rider ranges up alongside. When taken in this way, they do not fight half so much as one would expect ; indeed, after being tied up to a post in camp for a week, they often require no further taming, walking 1 One of the best descriptions of a zebra was recently given by a small Scotch laddie in a Highland school, when asked to describe the general appearance of the animal : “ Weel,” he replied, “it’s just a cuddy (donkey) wi’ a footba’ jersey on.” 196 A Breath from the Veldt. about like so many donkeys, and becoming almost too friendly. They are not, however, to be trusted implicitly, for though not nearly so savage as the mountain zebra of Cape Colony, they can give a very nasty bite. As I strolled into camp I saw Piet Landsberg standing by the pool, not twenty yards from my waggon, and beckoning to me with his finger, which he presently pointed in the direction of the water below him. There lay in the Frrafrotthids « fence te baunded SobheAnkelipe. (os a ‘chong ov the li 7 hontes naches Na FIRST ATTITUDE OF DEFENCE OF A WOUNDED SABLE BULL natural attitude of drinking—exactly in the position in which death had overtaken him—a most beautiful old male leopard. ‘Teenie had aimed at a crow with his strychnine and killed a pigeon. The effect of the poison had been so instantaneous that the leopard had not rolled over on its side, but had just given up its life with the first few laps of water it had drunk; and there it lay with its nose in the water, and the morning sun playing on its beautifully- spotted back—as fine a subject as any painter or photographer could wish for. We intended hunting immediately after breakfast, as we were now in the SECOND ATTITUDE OF DEFENCE OF A SABLE BULL A Breath from the Veldt 199 midst of the game, so I had no time to even attempt a sketch. During this day, though full of hope, and all of us seeing game, we got nothing. Towards the afternoon the old man and I found a fine troop of koodoos, among which was a good bull. Though the cows all stood well, the cunning old rascal kept well in the background, and after half an hour of about the coarsest bit of riding I ever experienced (for he led us through all the worst wait-a-bit he could find), we eventually lost him without a shot being fired. We arrived home dishevelled, discomfited, and desperately sore from the thorns. The following day a start was made for the river, where we hoped to find enough game to induce us to stay and hunt for two or three weeks. The journey itself was a rough one, and as we were striking straight across country where no previous trail had been made, our progress was slow, and had to be carefully undertaken to avoid smashing up the waggons against the trunks of trees and sunken sluits. Prince again showed his consummate skill as a driver, and we reached beautiful Nuanetsi about mid-day the same day. During our ride an incident occurred which put Van Staden and myself into the best of spirits; for not only was spoor of all the game fresh and evident, but I succeeded in killing our first old sable bull, and a fine specimen too. Its death, however, was attended by an unfortunate accident, which, though I can but blame myself for my own hastiness, was in a great measure unavoidable. In general appearance and sporting qualities the sable antelope (Hippotragus niger) yields the palm to none of his kind. There is about the whole animal that indescribable charm that is so intensely African and so characteristic of the wild life. Its strong individuality must ever stand out in the minds of those who have been so fortunate as to see and shoot it, and it is certainly one of the chief objects of interest in the splendid fauna of that country. Apart from its satin-like hide, sweeping horns, erect mane, and great strength, the sable antelope presents an appearance of fearlessness and nobility that is very striking, to say the least of it.1 Though the koodoo, when dead, surpasses his rival in elegance of external form, he is but a skulker, and makes but a poor show beside the sable on the Veldt. I would say, if such a comparison be allowable, the two hold their own like the rival beauties of a London drawing- 1 Any one who has seen a wild sable antelope galloping cannot fail to be struck by its resemblance to the unicorn. The whole appearance of the animal bears a much closer likeness to that mythical creature than the gemsbuck. In outline every point is similar except the horns, and even those on the head of an immature, when seen in profile, are not so very dissimilar. If there is any African animal alive to-day which is the - original of our-national crest, it is the sable. 200 A Breath from the Veldt room. The fair one sits quietly in a corner, charming her immediate circle with her graceful shyness and beauty, and people take sly glances at her from the other end of the room, while pretending to devote their attention to some one else, while her black-eyed rival flaunts into the room as if she owned the entire show, and commands the attention of all eyes by her more brilliant and striking charms. The one attracts attention slowly, the other commands it at once. Roughly speaking, the height of this grand antelope at the shoulder is about 44 feet; but he looks much taller, owing to his great shoulders and unusually thick neck ornamented with its erect crest of hair. The tail is long, and has a good wisp of hair at the end, which, like the tails of the roan antelope and the waterbuck, swings from side to side as the animal gallops along. Like the koodoo, the horns of the sable are its chief glory, and the noble manner in which the head is carried by the buck when on the move is a splendid thing to see. Unlike all deer, and nearly all antelope, the sable when running arches the neck instead of raising the chin—a habit which adds greatly to its pictorial attractions. The body of the sable, as will be seen from my rough sketch of the bull shot by young Basadanote—a sketch taken immediately after death—is short and very thick-set; but when the animal carries a fine head, say 40 inches, the horns look at a distance as if arching over the whole length of its body. A good adult head shows 36 inches of horn, though heads of 40 inches are not uncommon. I was exceptionally fortunate in the four bulls I secured, as they measured over the curve 36, 364, 41, and 454 inches, the last a grand specimen, of which I shall speak later on. The largest, as well as probably the best head that has ever been secured, is recorded in Ward’s Horn Measurements. It was shot by Mr. Barber, of Johannesburg, in the low countries, and measures 46 inches.! The range of the sable antelope in South Africa is principally confined to the east and north of Mashonaland and Matabeleland until the Zambesi is reached. Selous found it in small numbers as far up the Chobe as he went, and states that in that country the average of heads is finer than elsewhere. There is every reason to believe that it ranges right westward from here to the Quinine River, for it is common everywhere northward in the Barotsi, Mushakalumbwi, and Lake territories. Sir John Willoughby mentions having seen it near Kilimanjaro in East Africa, and Mr. Jackson says it is common in certain localities in German East Africa. 1} Since these lines were written, a specimen with horns measuring 48 inches has been obtained by Mr. Coryndon from natives in the country to the east of Barotsiland. LDPE Up Wad Cae : Up tp fo er fe , is te es oC a 5) SMaRdag 2 A Breath from the Veldt 201 The usual herd of sable seen in Mashonaland is generally ten to thirty cows, and quite young bulls, with one old bull, who is easily noticeable by his great neck and his habit of standing apart from the others. This old bull is generally the last to run, and keeps his position well in rear of the troop when on the move. Mr. Banks, a successful English sportsman in Mashonaland, encountered shortly after I met him a herd of over seventy of these antelopes, as well as a great herd of elands. ‘These two species probably become gregarious to a certain extent, whilst moving out of the tsetse fly country in September to get the young green grass that is just shooting up in the charred burnt lands. The sable is a villain to run, once he is fairly under weigh, so it is best to make as sure as possible of your first two shots at the old bull, otherwise you will probably lose him altogether, even though he be badly wounded. All the Dutchmen affirm that you cannot ride the sable to a standstill; but I very much doubt this. I think a good man on a well-fed horse in open country should be more than a match for him. Still, it is not worth trying unless you are well and plentifully horsed, as you will ruin your nag by playing the game too often, especially when you are in a country where you cannot get mealies or Kafr corn. The endurance and strength of the sable are very great, much greater than that of any of the large antelopes; but he has no advantage over them in point of speed, and a decent horse, if made to go, can range up to the game in a mile or under. Some men prefer this style of shooting, and it is no doubt very effective, but then to enjoy it to perfection you require not only a first-class horse, but a perfectly-trained one, which is about as hard a thing to get as a fat Government appointment. A sportsman need never be afraid of filling a sable bull with too much lead. He will carry away an amount of shot that will at first surprise the hunter, so it is best to keep on firing till he is hors de combat. He is, moreover, a very dangerous brute when in possession of more than one leg, and should not be approached nearer than thirty yards, unless he is down. As you come near a wounded bull, whether he be lying down or standing up, you will see him draw in his head, which he slightly lowers while giving vent to a loud, coughing snort, which means to say, “ Look out!” ‘Then, if you have any regard for a whole skin, you had better lose no time in putting an end to him. This loud snort is the only noise made by the sable, and I have heard an 1 Mr. Selous says: ‘‘As a rule, the sable antelope runs very swiftly, and has good bottom; but in this respect different individuals differ considerably, as is the case with all animals ; and I have run down, without much difficulty, individual sable antelopes and roan antelope and one gemsbuck, whilst others have gone clean away from me.” 2D 202 A Breath from the Veldt old cow tune up in like manner on getting the wind. Owing to the nature of the bush country in which they live, nearly all the larger antelopes habitu- ally move in Indian file when running ; but, after watching them carefully, I think sables are more inclined to bunch in the centre of the troop when running than any other antelopes, except the pallah. At all times they run in a compacter formation than roan antelope, and far more than waterbuck, which sometimes maintain quite a big interval between individuals. When the bulls arrive at two years of age or thereabouts, I fancy that they are ejected from the troop, and the lord himself has many a tough battle to hold his own with the rival adult bulls travelling in search of a harem. These single wandering males (often fully adult) are the ones most commonly met with by the sportsman. They lead a solitary life till they are capable of annexing a troop of their own, and then they take good care to keep it. From his size and strength there can be little doubt that a sable bull is the most formidable and plucky of all the antelopes, though he has not the reputation of being quite so dangerous to man as the roan antelope. The stories about this animal being more than a match for the lion are no doubt quite true, and a fight. between these two splendid beasts is the subject of a fine picture by the late Thomas Baines, whose work as an artist of African wild life is practically unknown in this country.’ Mr. Baines has represented the lion being speared through as it has sprung on the back of the sable bull going at full gallop; but I doubt whether this has ever been seen in real life, for all the natives affirm that the sable when collared generally lies down, and invites a charge on its back, turning its head sideways as represented in my sketch, so as to give the horns a deadly sidelong thrust, which must be pretty crushing to even a lion. The rapidity with which it slashes its head for the horns to sweep over its back is quite remarkable, being such as one could hardly expect in so big an animal. I have now in my possession the skin of the second sable bull which I killed. It was scored all down one flank, showing where a lion had hold of him a short time previously. He had evidently beaten off his antagonist successfully. ‘This mode of striking on the part of the sable is so effective and remarkable that I give one or two little pen-and-ink sketches of the animal’s attitudes as they impressed me. Near the Lundi River a native turned up at my camp one morning and 1 A very fine collection of this artist’s works has lately been on view at the Crystal Palace (1895). The pictures, though perhaps not very great as works of art, nevertheless give the beholder a better impression of South Africa and its bygone life than any others yet exhibited. A Breath from the Veldt 2.03 brought with him the teeth and claws of a lion, which he said he had found dead the previous year by the side of a sable antelope. By means of Office and Prince I extracted all the information I could get out of him. The two animals, he insisted, had killed each other, but the lion’s skin having been torn to pieces by hyenas and vultures, he could not see the horn-thrusts in its side. Some two hours after our start the country became quite suddenly more beautiful, the trees larger, and the bush so open that one could easily see any PSSABLE bill using his hors. Ati bader of- ated SKETCHES OF A SABLE BULL AT BAY animal at 200 or 300 yards’ distance. My companion and I were, as usual, riding ahead of the waggon, to direct its course through the bush, when suddenly the old man turned in his saddle and said quietly, “ Zwart-vit-pens |” (sable antelope). Following the direction of his gaze, I made out at once a large black-and-white antelope standing looking at us at about 300 yards to my left. We were so fairly in the open that there was no chance of his standing for us to approach. He saw us at once, and starting off at a slow canter in the direction of a small rocky kopjie about 500 yards away, and gradually slackening speed almost to walking pace, vanished behind the hill. 204 A Breath from the Veldt Here was luck for us; nothing better could have happened. We galloped up to the base of the hill, jumped off, ran up a few disjointed boulders, and then looked over, when a sight presented itself to my eyes which I shall never forget while I live. There, not 50 yards off, standing and gazing with their usual aspect of royalty and fearlessness, was a splendid troop of sable antelopes —about thirty cows, and the old bull which we had previously viewed ! Nothing on the Veldt looks so truly regal and imposing as a troop of these antelopes. The shine on their coats, the flash of their dusty horns, and the noble carriage of their heads, all tend to give them an air of beauty greater than that of any wild creature I have ever seen. Here they were, for the first time, within easy shot, and accompanied by an old warrior whose trophy was well worth winning. Whether so grand and sudden a discovery gave me a temporary relapse into buck fever, and so disturbed my aim, I know not ; but the old bull at whom I fired merely took two or three steps forward and then halted again, while the troop of cows began to string out and move slowly away. In a moment I got another cartridge in, and let drive again at the bull as he commenced to move. ‘There was no doubt about my second shot, for one of his hind legs instantly swung to one side and became useless. Van Staden and I now sat down on the rocks, and each selecting a cow, fired several shots. ‘The Dutchman’s second shot floored his beast; but she got up again, and made after the retreating herd with all speed. All this, though it takes some time to tell, was but the work of a few seconds, at the end of which we mounted our horses again and rode off in hot pursuit. The bull took a line by himself, showing that he was badly hit, and Pointer, the old dog who had accompanied us, took up his spoor, and galloped along ahead of me, whilst Van Staden followed the cows on the right for some distance. By and by Pointer ran clean away from me, and disappeared in the tall trees ahead, where I presently heard him baying with all his might—a sure sign that he had brought the beast to a standstill. On passing into a beautiful glade, a sight presented itself that no sportsman could fail to appreciate. There stood the grand old fellow, with his glossy hide and splendid horns, looking the picture of defiance. He was standing with his back to a tree and anon slashing to right and left with his scimitar-like horns as the old dog came near him. On seeing me he immediately lay down—as, I have noticed, a sable generally does when wounded and capable of defending himself —so as to secure a complete sweep of his horns along the back, and render all approaches dangerous. The grass here was very high, and I could only ST aA ATHY TA TE HEH tesa GAT SU i HAE vi HMO RTL Hib re Mi H Ha HA WN A i i HR vith Hi i sn bi ni lat ri i Py ly tie Bet y aa Ht H rie HN a a tt Hen Ta i bs ly hi Va ms a : ai ssp rit ta i ni ay : many i Kil ba i al ( ie : H i My Mm A WATERBUCK TAKING COVER A Breath from the Veldt 207 see Pointer’s head bobbing up as he approached to try and take hold of the buck ; and being an old dog, nearly deaf, and having never before seen a big wounded animal, the smell of blood had evidently excited him. He was far too plucky to be of any use. Encouraged by my presence—for I had now got off my horse and was within twenty yards of the two animals—he made a rush in, for which piece of intrepidity the sable sent him flying with a blow from what appeared to be the flat of one of his horns. I was waiting to get a clear shot at the buck’s neck, when I saw a vision of the dog on the sable’s back and fired at once, hoping to save my canine friend’s life. But alas! the rapidity of that horn-thrust had been just a second too quick. The movements of the two animals were so rapid that at the moment of my firing I could not see precisely what had happened, though Van Staden, who was behind me, saw the whole thing. What had occurred was this : both animals rolled over together, and by the cruellest of bad luck the sable had pierced the dog’s shoulder with his horns, and thrown him forward past the line of his neck at the very second I had pulled. My bullet therefore passed through the dog’s head into the sable’s neck, killing both the animals instantaneously. I need hardly say I was bitterly disappointed at losing my one and only dog, and was disposed at first to blame myself for firing too quickly; but it was clearly one of those extraordinary accidents against which not even the most careful sportsman can guard himself. The only consolation I could think of was that the poor dog had been terribly wounded by the horns of the buck, and as he was far too plucky and impetuous to ever become a good “baying dog,” his next encounter with a wounded sable would probably have cost him his life. The waggons coming up, we put my prize up bodily, intending to take him on to the river, a short way, before cutting him up. He was a perfectly adult male, the horns, though thick and strong, with a fine backward sweep, measuring 36 inches—the size of the average adult. A temporary delay being caused by Tace, the old man and myself followed the retreating herd. Two animals were unfortunately hard hit, and though we did our best to come up with them, we never saw them again. This losing of wounded animals is one of the saddest incidents of hunting in heavy bush country, and unhappily one of common occurrence, as all the big antelopes are hard to kill, and will carry off wounds that would bring deer to a standstill at 1 Any one who wishes to know what a sable can do with his horns will do well to turn to the end of chap. ix. of Mr. Selous’s last work. He will read there how, out of a pack of strong dogs loosed after a wounded bull, four were killed outright, and four more badly wounded. 208 A Breath from the Veldt once. So, after an hour’s search, we gave it up, being obliged to return to the waggons, and continue our journey to the Nuanetsi. Another two hours and we were within sight of this beautiful stream, but had great difficulty in getting our waggons over some of the deep and dangerous sluits that run parallel to all the Mashonaland rivers. Evening closed in at last, and our merry party sat round the blazing fire, enjoying sable and koodoo marrow-bones and arranging buffalo hunts for the morrow, with a lively hope of getting well among the game during the next three weeks. Not the least pleasurable omen was the subdued moans of a troop of lions away down the river as soon as the sun had set. Such a sound as this I had never heard before, and I felt, as I turned in, that here at last were the happy hunting-grounds that I had so often longed to enter. ~N HOW TO SLEEP ON THE VELDT CHAPTER VII BeavtiruL Nuanetsi! How shall I do thee justice in pages of cold print ? how convey to those who know them not the manifold charms that await all who seek thee as lovers of the wild and free? A thousand and one little incidents crowd back on the brain as one seems to pass again from these dull shores to the blaze of sunlight that floods your silver streams, bringing forth at the same time the welcome shadow of your trees. The chatter of the honey guide, the bark of the baboons playing in the sand, and the drowsy monotone of the “Brom Vogel” strike the ear once more, whilst the peerless expanse of the heavens is dotted with an ever-moving series of vultures, eagles, and storks. Here, too, are the crowds of cinereous vultures, like black and gaunt spectres, assembling on the tops of the trees that flank the high banks of the crystal stream, and the river itself creeping, creeping ever onward through its bed of sand, where the footprints of the buffaloes, waterbuck, and lions that drank there last night mark the path of the great game. The whirl of our busy lives ceases for a moment, lost in the pleasant past, as one recalls that which was yesterday a reality, to-day but a dream. Hard as we sometimes thought our lot of self-imposed labour, wearisome those infernal sketches in the shade of the waggon, long those futile tramps; all alike fade into insignificance by comparison with memories of glorious triumph, and the contemplation of Nature’s grandest handiwork. After the hunter has crossed the Bubye he gets to the real home of the now much persecuted game, and feels that every step he takes onward is well into the wilds where Nature has all her own way, unmarred by the hand of man. What was written yesterday, however, will not do for to-day ; the voracious hunter turns up where he is least expected, and two or three years hence there may be but little game along these beautiful and now solitary streams. The Nuanetsi, known recently as one of the greatest game rivers of South 2E 210 A Breath from the Veldt Africa, is still well worth a visit. Judging by the spoor of the game which frequent it in the summer, the place must be then swarming with animals of every description ; but at the time of my visit all the mud-wallows were more or less dried up, looking somewhat like huge cattle-pens that had long ago been deserted. Even to-day small herds of elephants and a few giraffes come up from the virgin “fly” country to the south-east; where (I think I am correct in saying) few, if any, white hunters have as yet penetrated. All along the river banks are to be seen the tracks of these great beasts, with their huge imprints in the mud. Here and there the tops of the roibosjes have all been eaten off, and lines of bushes and small trees are trampled down. In the dried mud-holes are the summer wallows of the wart-hogs, showing that at this season they assemble in numbers and form bathing parties ; and in all the open spaces are innumerable tracks of the great herds of buffalo that abide by this river summer and winter unless much shot at, when they trek farther into the “fly” and disappear for a time. Here also are many pallah and waterbuck, whilst roan antelope and sable are found in scattered troops on the north-east bank towards M’Pape’s Mountain. At our standing camp on the river on 21st June I came across a little rufous warbler (about the size and shape of our European great reed warbler) that has the most remarkably human whistle I ever heard. It is exactly like the noise emitted by a schoolboy ambling to school under a reduced rate of speed. We all know that boy, as he goes along with his hands in his pockets, his books under his arm, whistling away without any regard to either time or tune,— perfectly happy too, for his pockets are full of provender, and that he has not prepared a word of his lessons does not concern him in the least. Everywhere in the bush by the river, before the sun’s heat becomes oppressive, you hear the notes of this strange bird, and its callous indifference to time and melody is very striking. It sounds as if the songster, trying to imitate some finer vocalist of the thrush tribe, had got hopelessly at sea. And here, turning to my Diary, I find a note of another sort that I can hardly pass over without a word. Pompoom, my little boy, is slowly breaking my heart, as well as making fearful inroads on the royal wardrobe. He is really the most dreadful boy I ever saw for tearing his clothes to pieces; but he has such a pleasant face and such comic ways of explaining matters that one cannot feel angry with him. He reminds me strongly of Bret Harte’s “Melons”’—that masterpiece of boy character. His clothing is a source of continual vexation to himself and to me, for it is no easy matter to keep his NATIVES FIRING THE BUSH AT NIGHT A Breath from the Veldt a0 3 small and dirty person properly covered. ‘This morning he came and appealed to me so piteously for another suit—to advance his social status in the eyes of the two Shangans, Office and Gentleman—that I was obliged to comply, though this is the second old suit I have given him since leaving Pietersberg. “De Doorns, ow baas” (The thorns, old master) : that is the burden of his excuses, however varied in details. Our camp here is in a lovely spot on a high bluff under great trees, which fringe the banks of the river. Immediately below, on either side of the great sandy bed, are dense thickets of bamboo-like reeds which extend for miles, and shelter the lions and leopards during the day. In the middle of the sand-bed runs a small rill of beautifully clear water, about 2 feet deep and tull of little yellow fish, while up and down its course are constantly moving many beautiful birds, amongst which the small black-and-white kingfisher is very common. Here also are a big flock of saddle-backed Jabiru storks (Mycteria senegalensis) and some grey ones whose name I don’t know, small brown egrets, spur-winged plovers, and the usual herds of Egyptian geese. Bateleurs, too, are very common and very tame, and the magnificent white-headed screaming eagle is seen every day. I saw also to-day a green-shank precisely similar to our English bird of that name. But perhaps the most interesting thing here in the way of bird life is the vultures’ bathing-pool—a hole of dirty water about fifteen yards long and ten wide. It is situated in the sand-bed just below our camp, and here every morning come immense numbers of great black cinereous vultures, along with a white-headed brown one, to bathe—a circumstance that must be placed to the credit of the tribe as against the foul work in which they are commonly engaged. The vultures assemble soon after sunrise, and occupy in companies all the upper branches of the great trees round the camp. There they remain motionless for a considerable time, till, finding the coast clear, one or two of the more daring spirits venture down to the pool, their eyes timidly directed towards the bank on either side. These are soon followed by others. It is really a most comic sight to see a vulture bathing. Slowly and cautiously he walks into the water up to his thighs, and then stands looking about for a long time ; then one wing is lowered and dipped ever so gingerly into the pool, then another pause for a minute or more, during which he gravely contemplates the result, and this being found satisfactory, the other wing is slowly sub- jected to a similar immersion, and he gradually sits down as sedately as a judge about to pronounce sentence of death. Every movement is taken with 214 A Breath from the Veldt a self-conscious dignity that is supremely laughable in such an ignoble- looking fowl. Two years previously to my visit hardly a hunter had penetrated down the Nuanetsi, and even now only a bit of the upper portion is known. This is of course on account of the much-dreaded tsetse fly, but now the fly seems to have shifted from a central strip of the river right over to within a day’s reach of the Lundi; and here Van Staden, his cousin Cos, the Basadanotes, Fenter, and Randsberg have hunted for the past two seasons. We are now (22nd June) about as near as we dare go to this pest, being within a day’s ride of it, and have spent the day in looking for the big troop of buffalo that are doubtless still here, as we have found where they drank two nights ago. Returning this evening along the eastern bank of the river, I saw a lot of Jabiru storks alighting ; and, creeping up the bank well out of sight of the birds, I saw, through a cut running down to the river, a big old male baboon proceeding leisurely along amongst the trees in front of me and presently descending to the water. Then, creeping cautiously on, I got a good view of him, and on parting the grass in front of my face, I saw below me as pretty an African scene aS one could wish to come across. In the immediate foreground, not fifty yards away, was a troop of about thirty baboons, whilst beyond them—at the water’s edge—were about a hundred Jabirus and other storks standing in a long line in most picturesque and graceful attitudes. The setting sun sent a reed of gold along the backs of both birds and beasts, while the surrounding scenery shone forth with hues of gorgeous and ever-changing colour. I had at least ten minutes of this fascinating scene all to myself, till Van Staden, coming up through the trees behind, put both birds and animals to flight. Baboons are absurdly human in all their little ways, as one notices more particularly when compared with small bushmen. Here we see the sulky or bad-tempered old man, who gets cross, chattering and showing his teeth when any of the others come too near him; there two or three boys engaged in a game of romps; there the attentive mother relieving one of her children from the small and painful adjuncts of forest life, whilst the majority are walking slowly along with their heads down, searching for some beetle or insect that they frequently stop to devour. On the hills they are constantly on the watch ; so unless one comes upon them at a favourable moment like the present, the naturalist would seldom have an opportunity of seeing them without being detected himself. The sight of the baboon is marvellously PEL?” , : oe # za oe eg emcee hicrtewpy Niet > Pieyeeg, ge 2 We EP Me eP of Bien year iy ais vy MPI MIPS DD COP POODLE A DAPYS v ; ne i Le Fay =F roar sgt ba A Breath from the Veldt 215 keen, and he will take alarm at the presence of man at a greater distance than any other animal. 22nd ‘fune-—This has been a red-letter day with us, though it hardly promised as much at the start. During the morning we saw a fine roi-kat (the red lynx or caracal), but only for a moment. It seemed to be very shy, and its movements (so far as I could judge) more dog-like and less shrinking than those of any other cat except the cheetah. About mid-day we encountered two small troops of Burchell’s zebra and some pallah, all of which seem fairly tame ; but though I wanted a couple of these zebra skins, it was thought best not to fire, for fear of moving something better. Rather late in the afternoon we began working through some thicker bush, and the presence of the Malala palms showed us that we were again approach- ing the river, when Van Staden, riding in front of me, slipped off his horse, whispering the magic word “ Buffle,”’ upon which I too dismounted. A couple of indistinct black forms could be detected moving slowly away from us, and the constant swishing of tails and occasional grunts proceeding from their direction told me that the old man had spotted the “Groot Vilde” at last. Seeing that the troop, whose size we could only guess, was moving away from us, we crept forward as noiselessly as possible, and soon found ourselves within about seventy yards of a fine buffalo. I was going to fire at it, thinking it was a bull—for to a man who sees the Cape buffalo for the first time, cows, finely horned as this was, look very like bulls—when the old man stopped me, pointing out my mistake ; and round and round we went for a minute or two, hoping to see a good bull. Suddenly a loud grunting snort was heard, and in front of us we saw several buffaloes move together and disappear. There was not a moment to be lost. I could not for the life of me see the shoulder of a cow that Van Staden said was standing looking at us a bit to our left. The beast, he said, was just going, so I whispered to him to take the shot himself, which he did forthwith with excellent effect. Instantly the bush in front of us showed itself alive with animals madly struggling to escape. A troop of about thirty-five started off at full speed, crashing through the thorns and undergrowth like paper, and sending up a cloud of brown dust in their wake that almost hid their black hides ; but over all the row was a sound that cheered the hunter’s soul—the loud and resonant death-bellow of the buffalo that had fallen and was struggling to regain her feet. I then gave her a shot, which was in reality unnecessary ; and, seeing that she was done for, we tore back to the horses, and jumping up, made such haste as the thorns would allow in 216 A Breath from the Veldt pursuit of the retreating herd, keeping well in view the brown pillar of dust that followed in their wake. Now, hunting through thick wait-a-bit bush at a walking pace, and galloping through it after a frightened herd of buffaloes, are two very different things, as will presently appear. We had hardly got well started on our wild career before Oom Roelef came to grief in much the same way as Absalom did upon Pha Bh A BUFFALO COW FALLING a notable occasion, a drooping sprig of wait-a-bit having caught him fairly by the head, and nearly dragged him from his horse. The lobe of his right ear was torn open and his face was covered with blood, which, coupled with his great eyes and long hair, made the old boy look pretty wild. By and by my homespun coat and I begun to part company in small detachments, and I began to fear we should never get a chance at our game unless the country before us was very different from that we were now passing through; for, A Breath from the Veldt om te apart from the drawback of the thorns, the trees here stand so close together that your horse, unless perfectly trained to the pressure of either hand or leg, is apt to scrape you against them, or to fall into holes suddenly seen only by the rider. A run of about half a mile, however, improved matters considerably, for the wait-a-bits gave place to a great extent to roibosjes, and we made such good time that the rolling black buffaloes began to show up now and again between the stems of the trees, thus giving us fresh hope at every stride. They seemed to be galloping slowly ahead of us, keeping (as they generally do) close together, their heads well up and their tails constantly lashing against their flanks. ‘The trees had now thinned away a bit; but what we gained in this way we lost in another, for the ground suddenly changed its character, showing only alternate stone flats and sandy ridges full of jackal burrows, till (after about two miles of this furious scramble) a broad glade in the forest enabled us to improve our pace, and presently we found ourselves within 100 yards of the herd. As we approached them I saw, to my joy, a great bull rolling along on the left a little apart from, though fairly level with the others, as though taking a line of his own. The troop, though apparently tired and going slowly away, were making really good pace, and I was much astonished at the agility they displayed on suddenly changing their minds as to which side of some bushes they would go. They threw up their tails, lowered their heads, and spun round on their toes in a second, showing that they were still full of running. A forced rush in within fifty yards brought us up to shooting distance, and the old man and I jumped off and came into action. I was a bit hot and excited after the long run, and my two shots unfortunately failed, passing just over my beast’s back, whilst a shot by Oom Roelef undoubtedly hit a cow. On again we went and continued the hunt for another mile or so, when, after narrowly escaping a spill from a bough striking me in the chest, we found some more good ground. And now, though our horses were somewhat blown, I determined to get closer up, for if you jump off at fifty yards’ distance, by the time your rifle is fired the beast is a good 100 yards away, and perhaps in an unfavourable position. Van Staden was confining his attention to the cows on his right, while the big bull that I was pressing lumbered along quietly to the left. At last I got within about thirty yards of him, and jumping off, let him have it in his stern—unfortunately the only part presented to me. He immediately sprang round, ran a short distance and then stopped, when I at once gave him two more, Van Staden adding another from the right. Seeing that he was done for, and that the herd turned off towards 25 218 A Breath from the Veldt the river again, we once more mounted our nags and followed them, in the hope of getting another cow. After a mile and a half the bush became worse than before, both above and below ; our horses too were played out; whilst the buffaloes seemed to have woke up after the last shooting, and to be as fresh as ever. Going slowly over a network of holes, my horse put his foot in one and sent me flying into a wait-a-bit—luckily too young to do more than break my fall. The shaking, however, deprived my horse of what little wind he had left, and Van Staden’s being equally done, we decided to abandon the chase. And now dismounting we compared notes on (among other things) each other’s appearance, for we had both undergone such changes since the commencement of the hunt that I doubt whether two sorrier or more dis- reputable-looking villains could have been found in Africa at that moment. Van Staden looked as if he had been in a prize fight. Our clothes, thickly covered with dust, were reduced to mere rags and tatters, and as to ourselves, I think we could have given points to Job, in a competition for prize sores, so cruelly had those horrid thorns treated us. Buffalo-hunting is certainly grand sport, but a suit of corduroys is almost as necessary to its enjoyment as a good horse sound in wind and limb. We smoked our pipes, rearranged our ruffled plumage, and congratulated ourselves on the events of the day ; and then the question was which of the dead beasts we should go to first—a point we must settle at once, as sunset was coming rapidly on. For myself, I had not the foggiest notion as to where we were; for though the presence of certain trees showed that we were near the river, the camp might be either up or down stream for aught I knew. Climbing a tree, however, the old man discovered that we had been riding in a semicircle from the point where the first shot was fired; so we went for the cow, and found it, aided by the vultures that had already gathered round its carcase. Here a fine troop of Burchell’s zebra, trotting up slowly from the river, passed within sixty yards of us, and being anxious for a specimen, I fired at the leader, an old mare, who fell to the shot at once, but recovered and ran up towards the dead buffalo. A second shot, however, hit her in the right place, and she dropped stone dead. Van Staden and I had our work cut out now for the rest of the evening. He grallocked the buffalo cow and cut down branches of thorns to bush it up, and I skinned the zebra close by, keenly watched by a host of vultures, who planted themselves on the trees around in expectation of a feast, helping to form a scene at once picturesque and typical of veldt life. In about an hour our work was finished, and having packed on Yoon Teffagy: weg, yo ee | = 6) SUlaetguy sNaPy weag = - A Breath from the Veldt 219 our horses the buffalo’s marrow-bones and tit-bits, and the zebra skin, we led them away—to find, to our astonishment, on emerging from the bush, that we were within 600 yards of our own camp. This was a great stroke of luck, and we utilised it by inspanning a few oxen and sending off a waggon to fetch the buffalo cow in bodily. It was a jolly party that sat round the camp fire that night—buffalo marrow-bones are food for the gods. We fell upon them with appetites worthy of a Guildhall banquet, and our enjoyment was enhanced by the belief that this small troop we had found meant a big herd not far away. Tace and Piet had killed two waterbucks, and Hert and Petrus were away back to Gong. As soon as the sun set we heard lions down the river, and at night a lion came close around our cattle kraal, as we knew by his frequent moans. \ Van Sted en crete bag ao ay ness ean VAN STADEN GRALLOCKING The Boer hunters generally sit in this attitude when engaged in an occupation of this sort. The old man and I were a bit late in starting next morning for the buffalo bull. After a long ride, we found to our mortification and disgust, only the marks of a “sleigh pat” (sledge path) where we had left the dead beast. There is an unwrittten Dutch law, and a very just and fair one, that whoever finds a beast dead on the Veldt, ungrallocked, can claim it ; and availing himself of this, a Dutch hunter named Fenter, who had arrived before us, carried off the carcase we had expected to find. The skin was somewhat of a loss, but the hunter was good enough to give me the head, which was all I wanted, fearing lest I should not be so fortunate as to kill another. This little contretemps, however, did not bother us, as my hunter expected to get what buffaloes we ’ required in the next fortnight ; and if they were not obtained at Nuanetsi, we felt sure of meeting with them on the Lundi. We got nothing that day, nor the next one, but on returning to camp the 220 _ A Breath from the Veldt smell of a dead animal attracted our attention, and following our noses, we came presently upon the body of a magnificent waterbuck ram lying beneath a spreading malala. The poor beast had evidently been wounded in the shoulder by a native “ paving-stone” bullet, and had wandered about some time before it had succumbed, for it was simply all skin and bone. Its horns, however, both in size and shape, were as fine as any I have ever seen ; so, though I do not as a rule keep any heads in my collection that I have not shot myself, this being exceptionally valuable I determined to bring it home. And a very nasty job it was to get it off—a whole hour’s work on an animal that had been dead about a week. The head measures 333 inches along the horn. 25th “fune.—Trekked five miles down the river, as there was a suspicion of “fly” higher up; and while we were away that young monkey Pompoom must needs try to make a cooking fire amongst the big grass by the waggon, the result of which was that he set the camp in a blaze. Luckily, Prince and Teenie (who never hunt) were on the spot, and managed to save the waggons. As it was, my saddle, bridle, and several smaller things, with some skins, were burnt. The grass is so dry and inflammable at this season that the whole forest can be set alight with a match when a slight breeze is blowing. Lions heard last night again. During the day they hide in dense river thickets, and a big pack of curs would be the only thing to hunt them out. The following week was almost a blank so far as I was concerned, for the beasts we met with were not what I wanted. I got a waterbuck, however, and another very fine old wart-hog that was as tame as a farmyard pig, and Van Staden captured several waterbuck ewes and a pallah. I also had a fair chance of a splendid sable bull, and had little excuse for missing it. One day we saw the Basadanotes again. They were leaving the Nuanetsi and going back to the Transvaal, and we learned from them that Cos Van Staden (Oom Roelef’s cousin) had got first run-in at the big herd of buffaloes on the other side of the river, and killed nine one afternoon. His nephew, who was with them, presented a most wild and pitiable appearance, having about ten days ago narrowly escaped with his life. He had been hunting with his uncle, and one day being out alone, he lost his way to camp—a common occurrence even with experienced hunters. For nearly a week he wandered about, half dead with thirst, till at last he struck the river again, and so found his way to the young Basadanotes’ camp. The unfortunate young man had subsisted almost entirely on locusts and wild honey, which he obtained by ONIYVOS SHUYOLS NUAvf ‘SIVUIdS ONILAIUG A Breath from the Veldt 22 following the honey guides ; he had shot a pallah, but had taken only a little of the meat, as he hoped to get on an old waggon spoor again. After sleeping up in trees, where he was half frozen—to avoid the lions at night—and trudging wearily about in the sweltering heat of the sun, burdened with unpleasant thoughts, no wonder that even in this short period the young fellow, doubtless a hardy enough specimen of his race, was completely broken-down and cowed, as he looked to-day. After a week at the second camp on the Nuanetsi the old man, who had at odd times been knocking up a tiny apology for a waggon, made of tree poles and wheels taken from his own small buck-waggon, said he was now ready to start into the “fly” and go and look for the white rhinoceros. The donkeys, twelve in number, were all in excellent health, and I decided to take Prince and Office with me. We accordingly devoted an afternoon to putting together such stores as were necessary for a six weeks’ cruise, and to patching up a rotten set of old riem harness which had been kindly given to me by the storekeeper from whom I had purchased the mokes. At this class of work both Teenie and the old man were experts, and all was ready next morning for our new journey. The evening before our departure I witnessed a very beautiful sight just as I returned to camp from hunting, and was cooking my dinner. The whole of the Jabiru storks in the place had mounted high in the air above the river, and were soaring like eagles, drifting slowly down wind in three huge spirals, each of which at the moment was composed of thirty or forty birds. As this is a feature in aerial volitation that can be better grasped by means of a sketch, I have done my best to give a correct representation of the scene. The effect of the sun on the snowy backs and wings of the birds was very beautiful, whilst the con- stantly-moving spirals, as each bird kept changing from one line to another, were quite charming to look upon. ‘The wings were never beaten, but every bird in turn, with stationary pinions, commenced a spiral descent of each pillar and then passed on to the next, returning to the summit of the first cone on reaching the lowest position of the third one. On Tuesday morning, 25th June, the old man and myself, Prince and Office, started again for the east, Tace, Piet, and Teenie coming with us as far as the river, to help in getting the little waggon across the sandy bed and up the bank on the other side, which was almost like the side of a house. They all said that if the donkeys could pull their load up that steep they could go anywhere ; and, with their help and ours, the donkeys did it ; but before many days were over we found, to our sorrow, that donkeys with a waggon in the thick bush are the 2.2.4. A Breath from the Veldt most heart-breaking things in the wide wide world. If ever, dear reader, you contemplate a visit to the “fly,” never go with a waggon and donkeys, or you will come back with grey hair and a chronic kink in the back from chopping down trees. Native porters (if you can get them) and donkeys with packs are ten times better. From the third day our troubles commenced, and I must say that for the next month I never had such a rough time in my life. Nobody knew for certain which way we were going, and with so many trees and other obstacles in our path, we never made more than six miles a day in the thick bush. Then we could not get water when we wanted it, and when we did, it was stinking and half mud. Game, too, was very scarce, and, to add to our distress, the old man got dysentery, and nearly died. For two days we made our way quite happily down the east bank of the river ; for, though sleeping on the hard ground in your kaross is a big change from your comfortable bed in the waggon, you get cunning by experience, and may even in time find out the soft side of a flint. You just cut a big hole where your thigh goes, fit yourself to it, and make your boy bring some grass for a bolster ; and, save for the attentions of small visitors anxious to know how you taste, the situation is not half bad. At some short distance from the river, the old man showed me a steep bank that a troop of panic-stricken buffaloes had surmounted two years previously. The place was so steep and rocky that it would have taken a wiry, active man some time to get up; but, scared by some lions that had made a rush on a cow, the whole herd had managed to surmount it, assisted by the impetus they had gained in descending the near side bank. Of buffaloes, however, I shall say but little, my own experience being too limited ; and much the same observation applies to the lion. I leave them with pleasure to other and abler pens, every writer on Africa delighting to let himself go on these interesting subjects. Van Staden, however, told me of a scene he witnessed some years ago—an attack by lions on an old buffalo bull—too interesting to be passed over. One day, when hunting near the Limpopo, he saw the dust rise near the river, and knowing that some big herd was on the move, he ran as hard as he could, hoping to get a shot. But he was too late. The retreating animals—doubtless a herd of buffalo—escaped, and while they were making off he heard sounds of bellowing and scuffling in the bush close by. He was soon on the scene of the tumult, for a buffalo makes a great noise when he is collared. And this is what he saw :— A lion and a lioness were fixed on the two hind legs of a buffalo bull, ONTYVOU SNOIT FHL OL ONINGLSIT A Breath from the Veldt OK another was tearing at its shoulder, whilst a fourth (either a young lion or a lioness) was endeavouring to fasten on the other fore-leg. Now, according to Oswell and Selous (to say nothing of other authorities), when he sees his way to do it, the lion’s first aim is to break his victim’s neck, or to kill by mass of wounds, tearing away at the flesh on whatever part of the beast he can easiest Sobetfiseh “ = ‘e A Breath from the Veldt 2.9 5 tracks of a big herd of roan antelope. They had evidently been close to us and disturbed by the last shot, so we lost no time in following the spoor. It was most exciting work, as, assuming a continuance of the burnt ground, we knew that, bar accidents, we should have little difficulty in overtaking the herd. Nor was our confidence misplaced. After spooring for about a quarter of a mile we saw plainly that they had subsided into a walk. And now, enjoying, as I always did, this phase of African hunting, I kept a sharp look-out ahead, while my companion hurried along at a fast walk with his eyes fixed on the ground. It was the easiest tracking imaginable, and a novice at the work, like myself, could safely canter on such patent spoor. Every moment we knew by the warm droppings of the animals that we were getting nearer to our prey ; but by and by the bush got thick, and we were within fifty yards of the troop before I saw them, moving like grey shadows and occasionally showing the tint of their ruddy flanks and shining manes. Now, oh reader, for a dreadful confession ! (and one is obliged to confess to one’s book if to no one else). I had been feeling seedy all day, and in fact for the past week ; but that did not excuse the appalling series of misses to which I must plead guilty. During the course of the ensuing hunt I had certainly five easy chances and three more not quite so easy, but out of all these shots I don’t believe I touched a single hair! Shooting standing, when you are hot and tired, is, even when the shot is of the simplest description, not too easy a matter, and no one, unless he has hunted in Africa or India, knows quite what it means. A miss after an easy stalk, which in a cold climate would be inexcusable, becomes in time no matter of surprise when it is effected after a long gallop in a blazing sun. The shaking of the horse, the dodging under trees to avoid thorns, and the general strain from the excitement of the chase (which is a very different thing from buck fever) are all strongly against the rifle and in favour of the quarry. Though my performance was about as bad as it could be, that of my companion was not much better. He also had six shots without doing any damage! A complete “rot” seemed to have set in, but this I was past caring for ; what annoyed me was that I had missed the chance of getting what I so much wished for—a good roan bull’s head. The troop consisted of about fifteen animals, including two dear little calves that kept up well with their mothers ; and among them were two good males, with apparently fine heads. My first two shots, however, were fired by mistake at an old cow, for at the moment I could not see a bull amongst the lot, and they were already beginning to move away. Then commenced the usual end-on chase, varied by stoppages for the 2.96 A Breath from the Veldt taking of breath and firing of shots, each halt increasing the distance between us and the antelopes as they became more and more seriously alarmed ; still I felt sure I should eventually kill the old bull which I had marked for my own, as he already showed signs of blowing hard. When a roan antelope is done he sticks his neck out straight and opens his big mouth wide, but these animals, I think, never hang their tongues out as deer do ; at all events I have never seen them do it, though I have watched them carefully and at no great distance. We must have run about four miles, and the horses, and still more the game, were showing signs of extreme fatigue when, on turning to remount Brenke, who up till now had been on his best behaviour, the little scoundrel took it into his head to make a bolt of it. Now, having learnt by experience the futility of trying to catch a runaway horse by going after him, I quietly waited till his galloping fit was over; but by the time he was once more under my control the roan antelopes were well out of sight and the game was up for the day. For fully two hours we plodded on, on foot, so as to be as little conspicuous as possible; but to no purpose. ‘Though the animals were so done that their ordinary pace was reduced to a walk, yet by keeping a sharp look-out behind, they invariably sighted us before we could detect them. Time was now getting on, and as there seemed little hope of again coming to terms with the quarry, we abandoned the chase with sore hearts. It had been a disastrous hunt from beginning to end, and my companion was as dissatisfied with himself as I was, for neither of us could say that he had not had a fair chance. What hunter cannot recall such a series of mishaps, unless indeed he is one of those fortunate individuals who never miss a shot until well into the middle of the second volume? However, koodoo marrow-bones and hot tea will dispel most men’s cares, particularly when the flicker of the fire-light shines on a 45+ inch sable head. We stayed two more days by the Nuanetsi, and had it not been for want of provisions and the Dutchmen’s anxiety about their families, I could well have put in another fortnight there, as the country is so charming. Several natives from a Shangan village to the eastward had come in and brought somewhat startling news about Matabele risings. ‘The Dutchmen thought so seriously of it that I could not if I would—and I certainly would not—prevent their returning home to look after their women-folk, who, if accounts were true, were in considerable peril. Just as we were leaving there came from the other side of the river a waggon drawn by a beautiful span of black and white oxen, while behind it ONINNNY Advssvs 2Q A Breath from the Veldt 299 rode one Rousso, a half-bred Dutchman, and an Englishman named Mitchell, whose face I seemed to recognise. He seemed to know me too, and after some talk we discovered that three years previously we had been soldiering together in Dublin. So small is this big world we live in! He was bound for the mouth of the Bubye, where his hunter said there was no fly but lots of hippopotami, both of which statements were untrue. As Mr. Mitchell with his beautiful oxen had already come down the Nuanetsi through a certain belt of fly, it seemed pretty rough on him, but how he fared afterwards I never heard. We then left for a spot we had named Tigrefontein, Oom Roelef and myself going far up the river on the chance of finding fresh buffalo spoor, the only thing we should have allowed to detain us. About an hour after starting we came on a splendid waterbuck, and I at once gave chase, but just as I was about to jump off and take a shot at him he dived into a deep sluit and seemed to disappear by magic, for I never saw him again. Hardly had I left the spot and turned my horse when I met a big herd of pallah filing past; but as usually happens in herds of twenty to thirty of these antelopes, there was only one good ram, and he so persistently remained under cover of two or three ewes that, though the buck were far from wild, I could not get a shot at him. And now having rejoined my companion, we cut right across country to some low-wooded hills, at the base of which we had previously seen much fresh sign of a troop of Lichtenstein’s hartebeest ; in fact I had noticed in the distance an animal moving through the trees, which, from his light and shining appearance and subsequent spoor, I had little doubt was of this species. A good deal of game seemed to have moved into the sweet young grass since the big fires had died away. There was plenty of fresh sign of Burchell’s zebra, koodoo, roan antelope, and Lichtenstein’s hartebeest, and a little of eland, sassaby, and sable antelope; but, much to our disappointment, the afternoon was wearing on without any game in view till, when riding some 200 yards to the left of my friend, I saw, cantering along close to me, a troop of seven large antelopes. ‘Though dark in the skin, the light shining on them made me think they were Lichtenstein’s hartebeest, but the moment they stopped and the shape of their horns became plainly visible, I saw they were sassaby. One of them stood still for a moment, but I muffed the shot, as well as a more difficult running one, and Oom, who fired just as the animals were moving, said that his bullet struck. We now mounted our horses and followed them for about three miles; but the farther we rode and the more tired our horses 300 A Breath from the Veldt became, the fresher the sassaby seemed to be. The sassaby, indeed, seem to have solved the problem of the greatest amount of speed to be got out of antelope legs with the least possible exertion, and may be highly commended to any sportsman who wants a lesson in hard riding for nothing. On the move this antelope has the same ungainly and “ humpy ” look as the blessbuck ; and on seeing the two animals running for the first time one is apt to think that any good horse could easily overtake them. But not a bit of it: sassaby and blessbuck are the two fleetest antelopes in South Africa—so much so that the swiftness of the former has passed into a Zulu proverb. I am sorry I can say no more of them from personal experience. All I can do is to give my readers a sketch showing to the best of my ability the animals as they appeared on the move. And now, with many apologies for this digression, I go back to the hunt. Having “done got experience” (as the niggers say), and our horses being thoroughly fagged out, Oom suggested that we should go right back to the starting-point, where he was sure his buck was lying dead, for (as I told him) I had counted seven animals and we had been pursuing only six. The old hunter here proved himself worthy of his profession, making a very pretty and artistic piece of spooring over not by any means easy ground, picking out exactly where the buck had left the herd, and eventually bringing us to the dead body of an old sassaby cow which his shot had taken just a little too far back. When we got into camp late, we found Tace had been lucky enough to come across the hartebeests; but as he said he had wounded and lost an old bull and three cows, we concluded he was either romancing a bit, after the fashion of those peculiar Dutch sportsmen who don’t kill very much, but whose bullets never fail to strike. No event of interest occurred for the next few days till we were a day’s march the other side of the Bubye. As we all knew the country—a great sparsely-bushed plain—we hunted separately, and on meeting at the dirty mud- puddle called something or other “‘-fontein,” the other two hunters assured us they had seen both sable and roan antelope, though I saw nothing but a duiker, which I missed. The old man said he had seen a great deal of fresh roan antelope spoor, besides a fine old bull, which he had unfortunately wounded and lost. Being now keener than ever to get a roan bull, I suggested that the old man, Tace, and Teenie should go on and rejoin the family, while Piet and I, with one of the Kaffir boys, returned to the Bubye for a week’s hunting. To this proposal all agreed except the old man, who, although very anxious about his family, refused to part company with me. “No,” said he; “we are mates for A Breath from the Veldt 301 this year, and mates we will remain.” I really could have got along now quite well by myself, but so determined was he that I should not return alone that in the end I consented, stipulating only that the others should go on and apprise the old lady of our coming. Accordingly with one waggon we went back to the Bubye and spent the next three days hunting assiduously for the game, of which a good deal had come in to the bush and surrounding lands during the past two months. Every day we saw koodoos, waterbuck, and pallah ; and SKETCH OF A BLUE WILDEBEEST BULL the second day, whilst hunting in the evening by myself, I chased a waterbuck ram for about two miles to the river, and was beginning to overhaul him when Spotty put one of his fore-legs in a jackall burrow and came down with me, but luckily without damaging either me or himself. By the time I was on again the buck had got into the thick bush by the river, and I lost him. As 1] turned from the spot, however, I saw a small troop of pallah and five koodoo cows crossing a flat in front of me; and riding up to the koodoos as near as I dared under fear of disturbing them, I tied Spotty to a tree and tried a bit of a stalk, hoping there might be a bull which I had not seen. Koodoos are 302 A Breath from the Veldt remarkably quick of scent as well as of ear, but as the ground was undulating, and the grass partly burnt made my progress almost noiseless, I got within forty yards of the troop in some thick wait-a-bits without their seeing me, and could easily have killed any of the cows had I cared to do so. They were moving along slowly and evidently were somewhat uneasy, and I had the finest opportunity for observing their peculiar walk and the sensitive motions of their ears, but, alas! there was no bull with them, and they soon disappeared in the thick trees. On the following morning Oom and I set out for the open flat lands, which are the favourite resort of the roan antelope, and in passing through the heavy bush which grows near the rivers we came across the fresh spoor of what was either a Lichtenstein’s hartebeest or a blue wildebeest bull. As we were emerging from this thick cover and had reached the more open veldt we heard a shot from Piet far away to our left, and in about two minutes we descried the dark form of an animal cantering through the trees straight towards us. Catching a glimpse of its horns, I thought at first it was a buffalo cow, and in another minute was off my pony ready for a shot as it passed by. Then, as the animal stood facing us at about fifty yards’ distance, I recognised in my friend the well-known blue wildebeest. Now my shooting had been pretty groggy for the last week, but I thought I was on the animal, when up went his black tail as he capered and cantered off again, heading straight for the open country apparently unhurt. But he was an old bull, and seemed to go a bit lame, so there was hope of another chance at him. On his standing for the third time I made rather a lucky shot as he was on the move preparing to gallop off again. ‘The shot struck him in the left haunch, completely disabling him, and, coming to close quarters, another shot in the neck ended his career. This was almost as good as the longed-for roan antelope, for the blue wildebeest is now getting very scarce in Southern Mashonaland, and I did not expect to be so fortunate as to see, much less to obtain, a specimen. So much has been written on this extraordinary-looking antelope that it seems superfluous to add ay notes except as to his peculiar movements. Compared with his flashy and interesting cousin, the white-tailed gnu, the blue wildebeest is a clumsy and stupid-looking brute, and his movements, though quaint and comical, altogether lack the fire and dash of the black wildebeest. Before starting for a gallop he kicks up his heels and whisks his tail in the most ridiculous fashion, and then runs off in something like a semicircle, but there is little spirit in his move- ments. On seeing the animal for the first time one is struck with the great ONIMOTION TLS FUV NOA AI FAS OL SATIVNOISVOOO GNIHAM YOOT V SHAVL JH A Breath from the Veldt 206 disproportion between the size of the head and that of the body, the former seeming far too large and clumsy for the clean, pony-like legs and quarters that bear it forward. I noticed too a peculiar trick on the part of this wildebeest. As the animal runs away from the hunter, he keeps frequently screwing his head round to see if his pursuer is coming; and this without in any way checking the pace. Being very old and in miserable condition, the head of this animal—a good one—was the only thing worth taking to camp. That evening, whilst hunting by myself in the thick bush along the river, I came close up to a koodoo bull, which gave me the easiest chance imaginable, for he simply stood and stared at me within twenty yards. I was using a little Fraser rifle with an almost solid bullet, but the big antelope only plunged for- ward about ten yards and fell dead; on the whole, then, this was one of my most fortunate days. It should, however, have been a good deal better, for I had a fairly easy chance at a waterbuck ram going homewards, but, as bad luck would have it, one of the horns of the koodoo which was on the pommel of the saddle before me got entangled between my leg and the stirrup-leather as I was hurriedly dismounting, and by the time I had half tumbled off, the water- buck was running slowly across me. I must confess I ought to have killed it ; but it got clean away. We now gave up all hope of getting a roan bull, and the following day trekked for Gong. ‘There is a long strip of dense mimosa stretching for about five miles along the north side of the great sluit which joins the Bubye near the Blauw Ghat, and along this strip Piet and I determined to hunt parallel to the course of the waggon. To reach this big thicket Piet and I decided to make a detour up the river bank, on the chance of meeting one of the few buffaloes which we knew, by the fresh spoor and droppings, were hereabouts. By the side of these African streams there are generally fairly broad paths made through the thick bush by the game trekking to and from the water, and we had been moving along one of these for some time when a large animal, which I saw at once was a lioness, sprang up from the long grass within ten yards of us, and uttering a low growl, bounded away through the thick bush, where it was impossible to follow her with our horses. She might, however, be tempted to cross the broad open space separating the thick bush from the forest of thorn trees beyond, and so give us a chance; and in this hope we forced our way in different directions towards the open, having, as we thought, the lioness between us. After she had disappeared I heard her growl twice, and have now no doubt that, diverging to the right or the left, she slipped away aR 306 A Breath from the Veldt behind our horses without our seeing her, her escape being all the more easy as we had no dog to force her out of the cover. We went back and beat the strip where she was last seen, keeping a sharp look-out, though not expecting her to charge without first warning us of her whereabouts ; but we never saw her again. Shortly after this we saw a fair amount of perfectly fresh buffalo spoor, and I much regretted that the Matabele row obliged my hunter to return now to his family ; for we might have had some good sport here if there had been time. Mid-day saw us once more at the fontein “nameless here for evermore,” and though it was a big trek I thought I could find my way alone hunting parallel to the track to Michelsfontein ; so off I set. ‘Towards evening I came to some low hills where there were great numbers of guinea-fowl, when a loud roaring bark attracted my attention. It was a koodoo bull that was giving tongue—the only time when I ever heard one bellow—and shortly afterwards I saw him disappearing over the ridge. After this I wandered about for a long time till it was dark, knowing that I was not far from the water ; and as soon as the sun set a friendly tree enabled me to see the light of our camp fires and so find my way home ; and here as I off-saddled our old friend, Oom Roelef’s brother-in-law, Cornelius Basadanote the elder, whose boy I had treated for fever, rose from the fire where he had been sitting and shook me warmly by the hand. He was glad to hear of our good sport, and thanked me very nicely for the medicines left for his son, which had completely cured him. He himself had been very successful in the hunting, and on his invitation I went next morning to see his collection, and was greeted with a most cordial reception by his women-folk. The camp presented the appearance of a miniature zoological garden. In addition to the necessary horses, dogs, and fowls, which seemed to roam at large in every direction, about twenty-two beautiful Burchell’s zebras, tied to little posts, were complacently munching their hay. Besides these were two little sable antelopes, with the softest eyes and most fascinating manners; whilst two young spotted hyenas and four hunting-dog puppies peeped from the shadows of a roughly - devised kennel made of branches. The whole scene was so thoroughly African that I made several sketches of the camp and its surroundings, two of which I present to my readers. The afternoon was spent in pursuit of guinea-fowls, in which Gentleman assisted me as gamekeeper. Sitting on a hill-top I presently discovered the main troop as they neared the water for their afternoon drink, and could hear the old cocks screeching forth their inharmonious notes ; and in about ten minutes I had killed no less than fourteen of these "* ya A DUTCH HUNTER’S CAMP A Breath from the Veldt 309 birds, and was off again to the camp, with Gentleman staggering under the spoil. It is a big trek from Michelsfontein to Gong, and as we were doubtful whether we could get the waggon through in one day, Oom Roelef rode off at daybreak so as to reach his family the same afternoon, leaving me to follow later on. It must have been about four o’clock in the afternoon when, approaching the pools of Gong in expectation of seeing a few of the outlying oxen feeding and the blue smoke of the camp fires curling heavenwards, I noticed, to my surprise, that there were no fresh traces or sign of oxen having been there recently, and as I got nearer and nearer the old place of outspan I felt there was something wrong. ‘ante was not there, and as J slowly walked my horse up to the deserted pools I saw nobody but the old man, who was lying fast asleep against a log with his hat off, “to catch Heaven’s blessed breeze,” while in his right hand he held a letter. Though I made some noise in off-saddling and knee-haltering Brenke, the old hunter did not awake. He was evidently wearied out, and I did not like to awake him, fearing that he had had bad news ; so J sat and watched his beautiful features—never more strikingly displayed than now—and in the course of half an hour I had finished the draw- ing here reproduced. As the air grew chilly and darkness was coming on I collected sticks and lit a fire, and shortly afterwards Oom Roelef awoke and told me all. Several days after our departure a party of Matabele made their appearance one morning, and told Tante that if she did not trek back to Transvaal at once they would kill the whole lot of them. Hert and Piet had fortunately returned to her, having arrived the previous day, and that evening they made preparations for departure. Still no immediate danger was feared till Hert, by chance, strolled over to the grass huts of some half-bred Basutos only a short distance from the outspan and heard what had happened there. At first he could find no one, but as he was going away a man whom he recognised as the eldest of the natives came out of the bushes, and addressing him in Zulu, told him that six of his people had been murdered by the Matabele, he himself only just escaping death at the hands of a man whose assegai actually penetrated the blanket in which he was sleeping. Hert soon saw enough to prove the truth of the native’s statements, and the following day, the family trekked south to the Limpopo, there to await our coming. The letter held by Van Staden had been stuck in a prominent place in a tree, and its contents set our minds at rest for the present, though there was a chance of the Matabele making it hot for us if they caught us there. 310 A Breath from the Veldt At night the waggon arrived ; and Piet having seen some roan antelope, we spent the following day in hunting for them, but again without success. That day about dusk a transport rider, with his horse pretty well done up, appeared on the scene. In a wild state of excitement he told us that war had broken out, and the Matabele were watching the road between Victoria and the Middle Drift in order to cut off any waggons they could intercept. He told us also of the operations outside Fort Victoria that marked the real commencement of the war, and various other occurrences, all of which are now ancient history. Suffice it to say that the place we were aiming for was the Middle Drift of the Limpopo lying directly to the south, and to reach this might prove rather difficult in a few days’ time. Still on a consultation round the fire that night we decided that, since the Basadanotes, whom we had left at Michelsfontein, were to trek along this road a month behind us and might therefore fall into the hands of these black rascals, it would be cruel to leave them in ignorance of what we had heard, all the more so as they had women and children with them. So, as my Basuto ponies were not played out like Van Staden’s two horses, I decided to do the ride of about fifty miles there and back in one day, taking both the ponies as alternate mounts. Starting at daybreak at a quiet canter, I halted at the corner of Gong Hills, and off-saddled there to give the ponies a rest, knee-haltering Brenke, who was a bit of a rascal to catch, and allowing Spotty to run loose. Now Spotty was generally as quiet as a lamb and with no tricks about him, but to-day he no sooner caught sight of the bridle in my hand than off he went, making straight for the path leading to Michelsfontein, and—what was far worse—he neighed to Brenke, who instantly smashed his knee-halter and galloped after him. There was nothing left now but to trudge after them both in the blaz- ing sun; and never shall I forget that long and weary walk and the bad language that alone could express my feelings. At last, when just about done and dying of thirst, I heard a cock crow—the sound most cheering of all to the heart of a hunter as he returns to his waggon, but never more so than at this moment, as telling me that Basadanote’s camp was not far off. The ponies were there already, and on my arrival the Dutch hunters received me with that courtesy which I everywhere experienced from this class of men during my stay in South Africa. The best refreshment their waggons afforded was brought out, and on hearing my news, for which they were most grateful, they decided to trek out at once. I, too, dared not prolong my stay, for the loss of two hours caused by the wicked conduct of my ponies compelled an early start in order to ONINGAY AHL NI UPLVA FHL SGUVMOL ONINNTUL STMOA-VENIND JO dOOUL V A Breath from the Veldt a1 reach my own camp before dark. Indeed I failed to achieve this. The sun sank below the horizon at least an hour before our camp fires came into sight, and there being no moon, it would have gone hard with me to find my way back had not the ponies known the path well. And now another misadventure befell us. About nine o’clock, when I was trudging along on Brenke, leading Spotty in my rear, and every moment expecting to see the glow of the fires in OOM ROELEF ASLEEP the sky, came the rush of some wild animal through the grass and across the path immediately behind Spotty, which caused that otherwise quiet nag to spring suddenly forward in terror and strike me a violent blow in the back. The concussion was so sudden and unexpected that I was thrown forward on to Brenke’s neck, and at the same moment both horses started off down the path ina mad gallop. Things would have been all right if I could have regained my seat at once, but the displacement of my weight unfortunately caused my pony to cross his legs, and down we both came in as fine a cropper as ever fell 2 5 314 A Breath from the Veldt to my experience. The pony must have turned a complete somersault over me, for the next instant I felt the whole of his weight on the top of me, whilst something (probably one of the other pony’s hoofs) caught me violently on the back of the head, knocking me quite insensible. As proved afterwards, I must have lain under a thorn bush about a quarter of an hour in blissful ignorance of the world and all that therein is. Then as consciousness returned I noticed first of all the loss of my hat, after which the absence of my ponies gradually dawned upon me. Thinking that no bones were broken, I scrambled up, and having after some trouble discovered the lost headgear reposing gracefully on a thorn tree, I crawled on as best I could towards the camp. Here I found everybody in a great state of excitement. The terror-stricken ponies had galloped in right up to the fire, where they now stood trembling from head to foot ; and, fearing that I had been attacked by a lion, Oom and Prince were preparing to start in search of me, with a lantern and a bottle of whisky. They were more than delighted to see me safe, and apparently sound. I soon found, however, that my collar-bone was broken and all my left side badly bruised and crushed, seeing which the old man bound me up as well as he could, and next morning we made a start for the Middle Drift. The second day brought us to the Umsingwani Drift, whence Van Staden rode on to rejoin his family, and I, being too knocked about to ride, trudged along on foot by the side of the waggons. The big river was now before us, and on nearing it a remarkable sight caught my eye—an eagle making two separate strikes at a Bush khoorhan. The bird (a bateleur) dropped on to its prey, and apparently failing to kill it, he mounted again about 20 feet into the air, and turning over, dropped and struck for the second time. I had never before seen or heard of any of the eagles acting in this way, for as a rule most of these great birds drop in a blundering fashion on to their prey, and then, hanging on to it at their whole leg’s length, allow it to kick and struggle as much as it pleases, finally putting an end to it by stretching their heads down and separating the vertebre close to the skull. On our arrival at the Middle Drift I went straight to the police camp, where Sergeant Chawner, seeing my dilapidated condition, treated me with the greatest kindness. Knowing surgery and having the necessary bandages, he bound up my shoulder most satisfactorily ; but it was more than a month before I could use my left arm. Here at this Middle Drift were a number of waggons bound for Fort Victoria, but all blocked and with little hope of getting on now that war had broken out. And not far off was dear old Tante, once more happy with her united family in beloved Transvaal. She and her daughters all A CORNER IN BASADANOTE S$ CAMP A Breath from the Veldt 317 fell upon my neck and embraced me in true Dutch fashion, for the poor old lady had had rough times at Gong, and had almost given up the hope of seeing us all round her again. But I must go back for a moment to our march from Gong. Within an Sl tr& be Gib Aas 2 4 BATELEUR EAGLE MAKING DOUBLE STRIKE hour of the time that my waggon and oxen had crossed the Limpopo, three of the draught animals showed unmistakable signs of tsetse-fly poisoning, proving that we had unfortunately hit upon infested ground at our first camp on the Nuanetsi. The symptoms of this poisoning are easily recognised. The poor creatures refuse their food and suddenly assume a starved, played-out look ; the eyes are blurred, there is much running at the nose, and the animal breathes 318 A Breath from the Veldt heavily. One of these oxen lay down and died the same evening, and with the assistance of Piet I got him skinned, to see how the bites had affected him. As far as I could make out, the poison had entered at only three points— behind both shoulders and near the kidney. Its course was shown by a purplish streak, and. around the point of entry the whole of the flesh and fat within a radius of 1 foot had turned a greenish yellow. Whether the fly inserts the poison first, and sucks the blood afterwards, or wie versd, seems to be as yet a moot point amongst the authorities; but this at least is certain—that water applied to the wound causes the poison to take effect at once. If, therefore, an ox stung in the belly gets wet by passing through a stream, its fate is sealed. The day had come at last when I had to say ‘“ Good-bye” to my dear old friend Oom Roelef. Together had we tasted the hopes and fears, the sweets and disappointments of the happy hunting-grounds, and under these influences our comradeship had ripened into the affection of brothers; for no form of existence brings men closer together than the wild free life of the hunter.. The charm which I felt in his society was perhaps, in a great measure, due to our mutual love of Nature and of the excitement of the chase ; but the longer one knew him the more one’s interest and affection were enlisted by the simplicity and unaffected earnestness of the man’s whole nature. When Oom Roelef said a thing, he meant it in its most literal sense, and in all he said or did one could not fail to notice the kindness and generosity of his heart. We seldom meet with our ideals in this life; but in my mind old Oom will ever stand out as a model of what a hunter and a true gentleman should be. Bret Harte has given us a similar character in “ Luke,” in words so appropriate to the man of whom I am now writing that I cannot refrain from quoting them :— “We are going to-day,” she said, “and I thought I would say Good-bye To you in your own house, Luke—these woods and the bright blue sky ! You’ve always been kind to us, Luke, and papa has found you still As good as the air he breathes, and wholesome as Laurel-tree Hill. “And we'll always think of you, Luke, as the thing we could not take away ; The balsam that dwells in the woods, the rainbow that lives in the spray. And you'll sometimes think of me, Luke, as you know you once used to say, A rifle smoke blown through the woods, a moment, but never to stay.” “As good as the air he breathed, and wholesome as Laurel-tree Hill.” Such natures lift us above ourselves, making us feel that the world is not quite so bad a place nor human nature quite so despicable as some of our latter-day pessimists would have us believe. As the old man wrung my hand at parting he said, amongst many kind S€VaH GNV ‘NODOVM ‘NVWATLNGD “FONTINd A Breath from the Veldt $21 things that I should not care to repeat, that though he felt himself growing too old for the hard work of the Veldt and should hunt no more on his own account, he would never forgive me if ever I came to Africa again and journeyed with another. Yes; Boers have hearts like other people, as you soon find out if you only go the right way about it. The old Frau and the girls were in tears as we kissed all round, with little hope of ever meeting again; and I must confess I was deeply moved. And now, let other writers say what they may in disparagement of the Dutch nation, I can never bring myself to join in that sweeping condemnation that is too often poured upon them by my countrymen. Mynheer Van Dunck is far too cautious a man to open his heart to a stranger, and his bluffness of speech and manner is apt to create a false impression on anyone who does not know him well. Hence, had I left these people after a month’s acquaintance, and without having learned to speak their language, I should have come away with a very different opinion of them from that which I eventually formed. So here’s to Van Staden and his good family, and may they live long and prosper, as they deserve! As long as I live I shall remember that day and hour when the beautiful, kindly face and romantic figure of the old man faded slowly away in the flush of the crimson morn. “*GOOD-BYE, OLD FRIEND” CHAPTER X Arrer saying good-bye to my friend I hastened on to Johannesburg, where Mr. Duffus, an enterprising Scotchman from Aberdeen, took an excellent photograph of my waggon and heads.’ Looking at the display of horns, the reader may perhaps be led to suppose that the bag is a much larger one than it really was ; but as a matter of fact all the skins and horns packed comfortably away in the small space beneath the kartel. Indeed, the district I traversed was by no means overstocked with game, though for variety of sport, and especially of antelopes, I think it would be bad to beat. I should not, however, recommend this route nowadays, the journey being exceptionally long and tedious. By going in from Beira on foot one can almost at once find game in far greater quantity. At the same time these pedestrian trips have their disadvantages, for the chief delights of African sport can only be enjoyed from the saddle of a really good horse. Moreover, in all these east coast localities the climate is bad, and there is no certainty of obtaining either koodoo or sable antelope, the heads of which are, to my thinking, the finest trophies that Africa produces. Personally I was exceptionally fortunate with these two animals, but then I gave up more than half my time exclusively to their pursuit ; for, as every hunter knows, in a new country there is nothing to be learned by squandering your attention on every object you come across. Let politicians say what they may, there is no such urgent necessity for “‘one man, one vote” as for “one trip, one animal” (or, say, at most two) to him who would make the best of his time as a sportsman and a naturalist. Nearly all wild beasts are becoming every day more difficult to obtain, and all vary in their habits more or less; the hunter may therefore be well content with one or two good specimens of any one species, and having got these, to pass on to the next. Hardly anything new, I think, can now be said about either lions, elephants, 1 See p. 319. A Breath from the Veldt $93 or buffaloes, or their pursuit, so elaborately have they been dealt with by previous writers ; but as to antelopes the subject is not nearly so hackneyed ; A VOOR TREKKER so on this trip I made them my principal study, winding up with the white- tailed gnu, to which this final chapter must be mainly devoted. Nowadays, roughly speaking, Lower South Africa can show but three animals whose habits can be watched without fear of their fleeing from the 324 A Breath from the Veldt presence of the observer. These are the blessbuck, the springbuck, and the white-tailed gnu or black wildebeest, as it is commonly called in South Africa ; and of these three the last named is by far the most interesting. ‘To my mind, indeed, this extraordinary-looking creature is the most interesting animal in the world, and as there is but too much reason to fear that it is doomed to extinction, I am glad to have seen for myself its curious pranks and movements as exhibited in its own home. Indeed I would not have missed my small experiences in its charming society for more than I can tell. At one time tens of thousands of these wildebeests were scattered in troops of from twenty to fifty over the whole of the face of the Southern Transvaal and Free State High Veldt, and as the result of careful inquiries I believe that to-day there are hardly more than 550 in existence. On the lands of Mr. Vessell-Vessell, near Bloomfonteine, there are about 200, fenced in. . SKETCHES OF BLACK WILDEBEESTS FROM NATURE I saw that if I was to kill another of these animals, some other means must be tried, as they were now so fearfully wild that success by following was extremely problematical. By watching them, both when in pursuit and when they were I noticed that even though repeatedly disturbed they moving at their leisure, so on the following day I always returned sooner or later to the same spot ; t after scaring the beasts from their resting-ground he should Jan, however, who at his best was never proposed to Jan tha attempt to drive them towards me. 20 330 A Breath from the Veldt enthusiastic, threw cold water on my proposal, and when at last I got him started, he went about his business in such a half-hearted way that I was by no means sanguine as to the result. We commenced operations on the first herd, who had by this time a pretty intimate acquaintance with the cart and its contents, and having flattened myself out behind the largest ant-heap I could find, I lay and watched the tactics of my companion as he proceeded to head the troop about half a mile away. It was one of the prettiest and most exciting experiences with wild animals that has ever fallen to my lot. Without it I BLACK WILDEBEESTS MAKING THEIR SUDDEN TURN BEFORE STOPPING could never have known what a wild thrill of joy, not unmixed with fear that they will alter their course, the sight of a herd of these wild-looking creatures (half buffalo, half antelope) can cause as their black forms advance towards one, now cantering, now walking slowly and glancing distrustfully back at any object from which danger is suspected. Closer and closer they come, like a regiment of black horses advancing—8oo yards, 600 yards, 400 yards! Will they ever stop cantering? Ah! now they slacken to a shambling walk, and wheel round with heads raised and tails arched, to watch Jan again, who, I am glad to see, has followed my instructions, and stopped quite still now that the beasts are A Breath from the Veldt 331 really approaching my ambush. That wait, though probably not more than a minute, seems endless as I keep my eyes fixed on the one old bull who stands out by himself at the tail of the string. Now do I bless that foremost cow as she swings round towards me, immediately followed by the rest of the troop at open order. Now is the moment of supreme excitement. I lie glued flat to the ground, not daring to move. On they come, and I see that it will be quite safe to drop the 200 yard flap and prepare for a close shot. However, eighty yards is quite near enough, as both rest and position are good, and the animals BLACK WILDEBEEST COWS EVICTING AN UNPOPULAR BULL FROM THE HERD would stampede if they came a yard nearer. The rifle creeps up the side of the ant-heap, and I worm myself slowly into a comfortable position facing the master of the herd, just as a loud metallic snort from one of the leading cows proclaims the presence of danger. All one’s physical forces are strained to the utmost to subdue the tumultuous beating of the heart and concentrate one’s mind on the need of perfect steadiness at this critical moment, and it is with intense satisfaction that one finds that all is well immediately the trigger is pressed. The wildebeests are now flying in all directions, but the old bull is still there facing me, rapping with all four legs on the hard ground, and trying to withstand the shock he has just received. The wound is a mortal one ; but 359, A Breath from the Veldt he gallops across my right front, and I give him another shot, of which he takes no notice. This manceuvre on his part is only a last effort; before he has covered fifty yards his pace settles into a walk, and, swaying from side to side, he falls to rise no more. Jan, who had by this time come up, said he thought the wildebeests must almost have trodden on me (“ omper ha-trap”’) before he saw the smoke of my rifle—a notion that any of my readers will SiaylayPe CANTERING OUT TO FEED understand if, stalking in a deer forest, he has ever seen another stalker getting a shot at a stag whilst he himself lies and watches with his telescope from a distant hill. You lie and wonder how close the stalker really wants to get, and imagine he is firing off his rifle almost in the beast’s face, whereas in reality the shot may have been taken at a distance of 100 yards. And now for a few remarks on the natural history of the black wildebeest, and its movements when at large. It will be seen from what I have already said how rapidly this highly interesting ruminant is becoming extinct, and how yg CACMPP SD ia YUP PUL warfor W COPIA. ¢ Se Ye LUPS a HE COA? dl WS oes pong fo. ee a aes < VL, Wy 910998] 9 Wem A Breath from the Veldt 333 necessary to all lovers of nature a large South African game park is for the preservation of this and many other allied species. The white-tailed gnu (Connochetes gnu) was ever a strictly South African species, which never ranged much farther north than the Transvaal and Bechuanaland, though at one time there is no doubt it came as far south as the Karoo district of Cape Colony. Needless for me to speak of the vast number that greeted the eyes of the first Voor trekkers to the north ; for Gordon Cumming and Oswell have already given us fascinating accounts of these bygone days. I shall therefore confine myself to personal observations, presuming that the reader knows the creature ; Vd ee | BS mR gi me ee ee BT eB” p DOB me aeS GALLOPING HOME AT SUNRISE by sight, and has some acquaintance with its ordinary habits. In the animal itself the first point of interest lies in its queerly-shaped horns and buffalo-like head, and thinking that a series of sketches showing the gradual development of these features may be interesting to some of my readers, I present them here. They were taken for the most part from the young male born in our own Zoological Gardens in June 1894, being made at varying periods, as the horns showed an inclination to change their form. The most rapid growth seemed to take place between the ages of six and nine months, and as soon as the horns commenced to curve from the base the old cow was irritated at the young one’s attempts to suck, doubtless owing to the uncomfortable stabs she 334 A Breath from the Veldt received in the stomach. I have seen her give him a severe blow, knocking him clean off his legs, to keep him away. I believe that the horns of the wildebeest obtain their full growth at two years of age, and that within another two years—owing to the terribly rough way in which they are used—they begin to crack and break away round the bases, until eventually the palms are worn quite away to the thinness of the horn beyond the curve, while the two bases stand up like round knobs on either side of the forehead, but do not in any way grow together. In the Roya/ Natural History, vol. 1i. part x. it is said that “in very aged bulls the two horns approximate at their bases, so as to form a helmet-shaped mass completely covering the part of the skull as in the Cape buffalo.” This is quite incorrect, as the bases of the horn never converge together and mass like those of the Cape buffalo, but keep their respective positions, with a space of about three inches between them covered with skin and hair, as in the bulls that have just reached maturity. Except the wearing away of the palms of the horns, the only difference between mature bulls and very old ones is in the colour of the hair covering the upper part of the fore- head and between the horns to the back of the skull, which gradually changes with age from a rich warm brown to jet-black, and a somewhat similar alteration of colour over the whole coat of the animal, which every year becomes more pronounced. The troops to-day, where they exist, number as formerly from fifteen to fifty individuals, the smaller troops generally consisting of cows and immatures with one adult bull, whilst the larger may contain four or five adult bulls. The old bulls either herd together in parties of three or four, or wander about alone. Judging from the number of these latter (whose heads seem to be much worn) and the rapidity with which males reach maturity and then proceed to decline in head, I take it that the period during which bulls remain as masters of any particular herd is but short ; and there seems every reason to believe that if not previously ejected by some new aspirant to the position, the master is turned out by the cows themselves as soon as he shows the slightest sign of age. When not engaged in drawing I used to lie out every day and watch the herd near the farm, and twice I saw an old bull come up and attempt to join the troop, when two or three cows detached themselves from the rest, and with their heads down charged straight at him, forcing him to beat an ignominious retreat. Sometimes, too, when a hunted troop is galloping away in circles, an old bull that has been by himself will try to join the retreating string, when several cows will turn together and fight him off. Every attitude and movement of those wild, fierce-looking antelope is more or less peculiar to A Breath from the Veldt 335 them. When feeding they frequently kneel—a position which few, if any, of the other ruminants ever assume after they have ceased to be calves. And probably from force of habit old bulls, when ploughing up the ground in excess of fury, will often drop suddenly on their knees—a circumstance which partly accounts for the condition of “Jack” at our Zoo. If some of my readers could but see him in one of his tantrums, they would not wonder that his knees were worn hard and smooth and his horns blunted, cracked, and chipped in two years yar 4 ; A WOUNDED BLACK WILDEBEEST BULL of confinement. When the wildebeest bull is exceedingly angry he not only gets down on the ground and drives one horn into the earth, attempting to tear it up, but, as I have myself seen on several occasions, he will use his head like a plough, burying one of his horns in the ground and pushing himself forward by means of his hind legs alone. ‘This does not do the ground much harm, but it has a bad wear-and-tear effect on the gentleman who is so foolish as to lose his temper. These exhibitions of violence are only some of numerous traits in the wildebeest character: the extraordinary attitudes and evolutions of a herd 336 A Breath from the Veldt under excitement have been a subject for the pen of nearly every writer w has visited South Africa. So queer, wonderful, and varied are they that I si think there is plenty to say that is practically new, whilst the field for artist’s impressions of them is quite untouched. Perhaps some of my read aeiitione Say utifebob of The vit asa) Rod fons [ Chih Hearing FEA. O f Set te Me un ee ZAR. 1043 THE WHITE-QUILLED BLACK KHOORHAN IN ITS USUAL ATTITUDE OF HOVERING WHEN DISTURBED may think I have caricatured and “ Munchausened” the acrobatic feats a tomfoolery of these clowns of the desert. I can only say to such doubters, and see for yourselves.’ ce | As an absolute fact, it is almost impossible for artist to exaggerate the extraordinary gambols and grotesque savagery of a hi as it commences to run. To convey an exact impression to the mind of 1 A Breath from the Veldt 349 reader, perhaps I cannot do better than describe the first meeting with a big troop of say fifty of these wildebeests. Your approach will have been ignored until within 500 yards of them ; then the animals, if they are lying down, rise and shake themselves and gaze steadily in your direction. When they see that you are still approaching the whole troop generally commence walking uneasily to and fro, swishing their white tails from side to side with such violence that the whistling caused by this movement can be heard nearly a quarter of a mile away. Sometimes they will continue this operation for a considerable time, occasionally giving a savage shake to their heads, accompanied by a skittish buck. Then the whole herd, led generally, though not always, by an old cow, prepare to run, affording as a spectacle one of the most curious—I might even say, one of the grandest—sights in Nature. Not only are the attitudes of the animals themselves, as they alternately kick, buck, roll and fight, queer in the extreme, but the various formations which a large troop goes through on the Veldt are in themselves fascinating to the onlooker. Very strange and very interesting is it to witness the facility with which the leaders of the various strings into which a herd splits up, conform to each other’s movements in spreading out over the Veldt, and again swinging together as the herd becomes reunited. As a rule a troop of twelve keeps in one string while performing their evolutions. A herd of twenty-five or thirty splits into two detachments, forming separate lines which diverge when starting to run, but always eventually reunite, however complicated their manceuvres ; whilst a herd numbering about fifty will separate into three, or even four, distinct curves, two moving to the right and two to the left ; but all, as a rule, swing into one line again before coming to a halt. Sometimes individuals mistake their positions, and are punished accordingly ; it is a common sight, as the herd stops and faces the hunter, to see a couple of bulls, or even cows, drop on their knees and fight furiously for a minute, displaying a fierceness and energy that might be disastrous to a less thick-skinned and wiry animal than the black wildebeest. Most antelopes, when stopping in the middle of a gallop to survey an intruder, gradually slacken their pace to a walk, and fixing their gaze on him, come slowly toa halt with their faces to the foe. Not so the black wildebeest. When about to halt the troop may be seen slowly cantering along, till the leader, without stopping for a moment to have a look, suddenly turns round, retraces its steps, followed in single file by the whole herd ; and not until the very last one has formed up to the new front do they pull up. Black wildebeests never travel very far in their first runs after being alarmed—a herd me 4 338 A Breath from the Veldt may be followed and kept at a certain distance pretty nearly all day long—but then they are also such excellent judges of distance that, however you manceuvre, you can seldom get nearer than 500 yards, and even then they have a most provoking habit of moving off again just as you are about to press the trigger. The more they are harassed the poorer, as a rule, become one’s chances; and though the hunter, bent on matching the speed of his horse against that of the game, may occasionally succeed in obtaining a fairly close running shot, he will soon find himself. outmatched, for even the calves at a few days old can run with incredible swiftness. Their call, which may be described as a loud, bellowing snort with a curiously metallic ring in it, is unlike the cry of any other animal, being a sort of mixture between the alarm snort of most of the larger antelopes and the whistling bellow of the Burmese gayal. Both cows and bulls give vent to it, though the latter far the most frequently. In so doing the animal raises its head slightly, and then opening its mouth with a sudden jerk, out comes all it has to say. I have spent weeks in our Zoological Gardens sketching and watching the specimens there, but have never heard them make any other sound ; though African natives say they have another mode of expressing themselves—a long-drawn cry like the Hottentot word “ gnoo,” from which the animal is said to derive its name. The rutting season takes place in March, and the young are born about June. Black wildebeests will sometimes travel immense distances in a single night for the purpose of feeding on a bit of Veldt, where the young grass is better than that near their own lying ground. During my stay rain fell over part of the country some twenty miles from the farm and beyond the lands of Piet Terblans ; and away went the game to feed there. Every evening about sunset I used to see two or three strings of them cantering slowly away to the north ; and one morning, as we drove back to Kronstad, we passed through this tract of country, obtaining as the cart went along a grand view of all the game there was in the place, as they galloped homewards with the first rays of the morning sun playing on them. They knew quite well that they were on land where danger was to be apprehended, and were making off home as fast as their legs could carry them. The various paces of the white-tailed gnu are each and all graceful, free, and unlike the somewhat cramped and stiff action of their congeners. In most of their movements there is generally a free bending of all the limbs, except when trotting very fast, when (considering the size of the animal) the stride is immense, and the pace equal to that of most antelopes when galloping. At this pace the knee-joints are hardly bent at all, and the Side, Wes, | Yon old. By Side views 6 Months, old © MmenlKs Front View, g { monhs an Co G tre Ke etd PEK GROWTH OF HORNS OF THE MALE BLACK WILDEBEEST Very ld l A Breath from the Veldt 341 head is held straight out without arching the neck, as when galloping. The position of head and neck when cantering will be seen in my sketch on page 332. Until quite recently almost the easiest way to obtain these animals—the way, indeed, in which they were generally taken—vwas for the gunner to remain concealed near their drinking pool ; then, if they were thirsty and could not quite make out the spot from whence the shots were coming, a number of them could often be killed at short range before the rest took definite alarm. Oom Piet told me that it was owing to this practice that the district had been nearly cleared. One evening a few years ago, while working amongst his sheep, he heard numerous shots proceeding from the edge of one of the pans near the main road running through his territory, and out of curiosity he rode over next morning to see what the gunner had been shooting at. There he found the carcases of twenty-seven black wildebeests, from only one of which the skin and meat had been removed ; and the sight so incensed him that he determined to preserve the wildebeests in future. At first he found this a somewhat difficult task ; but by keeping a couple of black boys constantly on the look-out, and helped by his numerous sons, who occupied houses within an area of about thirty square miles and gladly acted as keepers, he managed to stop indis- criminate slaughter ; and now he has the satisfaction of possessing practically the only wild white-tailed gnus in existence. I cannot conclude these few notes without relating a little yarn told me one evening by my host as we smoked our pipes after supper, sitting on the bench which overlooked the broad wastes of this southern wilderness. “One day,” said Oom Piet, “in the times gone by I go out into the Veldt to shoot a wildebeest cow. Ah! Jan, those were days! for the blessbucks and springbucks were as the stones in the river, and the wildebeests as the ant- heaps in the Veldt. Oom Piet’ rides his big black stallion, ‘ Klinboy ’ (little boy), and he cou/d gallop! Almighty ! he could gallop as fast as a blessbuck. Jan will see the rise beyond the pan. From there Oom Piet looked over the Veldt and saw that the land was moving with game. But what is this cloud of dust that Oom Piet sees, and is making the game to trek from side to side? A wildebeest cow and calf hotly pressed by three hunting dogs! One dog is close up and the two others take it easy behind. As they come near I see the dog close up, but the old cow is too quick, and she charges him, driving her 1 A Dutchman will frequently refer to himself by name, or to his listeners by the name by which they are commenly known. 243, A Breath from the Veldt horn into his side, and leaving him dead on the Veldt. Now Oom Piet thinks, will the other two dogs catch the wildebeest calf? So I climb up the horse and gallop gently after them. The calf is now tired and a second dog comes to seize it, but again the wildebeest cow strikes the dog and leaves him behind on the ground, very sick. But the calf cannot go far, and the third dog, who is more cunning, tries hard to bite the little one, and the cow keeps him off so badly that I see I must shoot the rascal. Now Oom Piet comes close, and . still the dog does not run, so I shoot him dead, and there stands the old wildebeest cow, who snorts but does not fly from me. Now though I come to 00M PIET’S YARN shoot a wildebeest, yet can I not kill a beast that has so bravely fought and will not run away ; so Oom Piet takes off his hat and says, ‘Good-day to you, old wildebeest cow ; you are a good and strong old wildebeest.’ And we dine off springbuck that night at the farm.” This was the simple story of Oom Piet; and, hard, matter-of-fact old fellow as he was, I doubt if any Englishman could have shown a greater sense of sportsmanlike consideration. After the first few days were passed I was pleased to find that those mists of suspicion and dislike with which every Englishman is regarded by the Boers were gradually wearing away, and as each evening closed, my host and his good MYL 27 pity ye eg roy . Ce Sl A Breath from the Veldt 343 “Vroo” (wife) became more and more loquacious, till by the end of a week I found the man whom I had heard everywhere stigmatised as a grasping ogre, an honest old farmer, who was actually asking me to prolong my visit, and—marvel of marvels——without paying for my board! Only once, I think, did the old chap show any sign of anger, and that was over the sketch I made of him at his own request. Just as I had finished it, his good “ Vroo”’ (wife), who scaled about thirty stone, came up behind, and then stood holding her sides and Pe Sa eS ee HEAD OF BLESSBUCK AND BONTEBUCK RAMS, SHOWING DIFFERENCE OF FACE MARKINGS shaking with laughter,—a circumstance which apparently led my host to fancy I was caricaturing him. He scowled furiously at my pictorial effort, till the old lady came to my relief, and assured him it was a true portrait of himself; but even this did not altogether satisfy him. He remarked sadly, “ Well, I never knew I was such an ugly old devil before.” Before leaving Jan and I had two more very pleasant days on the Veldt, getting another black wildebeest bull and a blessbuck ram by driving in much the same manner as before ; but there was nothing in our adventures to call for 344 A Breath from the Veldt any special remark. The blessbuck formerly had a more extended range tl the black wildebeest, although, like it, occupying the open plains, and always found in close association with that animal and the springbuck. V herds formerly existed throughout the Orange Free State, Southern Transv: and Southern Bechuanaland, but now their numbers are confined to such tro: as are preserved by the Boers north and south of the Vaal River. This bu with the bontebuck (which stands about 3 feet 4 inches), is commo: included in the family of gazelles, but in general appearance and formation i more closely allied to the hartebeests. Like other gregarious animals, tl are extremely shy, especially when the grass is short ; so they are by no me easy to shoot. When alarmed, and a shot or two has been fired at them, if 1 animals have been feeding and are much scattered, they will instantly gatl into small bunches and then join together, forming one large troop. From : small experience, once this big troop is formed, the animals are infinitely sh than springbuck, and having lowered their heads and commenced to run wind, they travel much greater distances and offer far fewer chances to | hunter than any of the other bucks of the plains. As stated in Chapter II. differ from other writers in considering the springbuck a fleeter antelope tt the blessbuck, since in former days the hunting dogs could not run down | latter animal, whereas the springbuck was a frequent victim. And I may < that there are greyhounds to-day which can kill springbuck in a fair cour: but none have as yet proved sufficiently swift to catch the larger animal. blessbuck’s pace is a rolling, somewhat heavy canter, resembling the moveme of the hartebeests, and when running up-wind the animal frequently moves. does the springbuck, with its head close to the ground like a hound on sce: but if pressed it can upon occasion show great speed and energy. A typi attitude of this buck and the springbuck when about to run is shown in- full-page electrogravure. Apropos of these illustrations, “Jan,” said Oom Piet to me one day, “w do you make of all those prints?” I explained to the best of my ability manner in which reproductions were made and a book completed. ‘And how much will you have to pay for a book like that you speak of ‘Oh !” said I, “ perhaps two or three pounds.” “Almighty! Are they all d—d fools in England? Why, I could bu good cow for that here.” And with this remark the old man toddled off look after his lambs, leaving the prospective author to lament the loss subscriber and full of painful reflections. A Breath from the Veldt 345 Having got so far, dear reader, perhaps you begin to wonder whether Oom Piet was not right after all, and wish you had sunk your dollars in a cow rather than in this book, for I have little more to relate than what you have already read, and must say farewell to Africa, with its sunshine, its dust, its hardships, and its many attractions—attractions now unhappily on the wane, for every day that passes brings with it a growing throng of fortune-seekers and adventurers, who, obliterating the landmarks of the past, gradually drive the children of Nature farther and farther afield, and will probably continue to do so till the whole country is bereft of the romance and the glories of days gone by. rGre Howe’er it be, it seems to me It’s not important to be new. New Art would better Nature’s best, But Nature knows a thing or two. Punch. THE END Printed by R. & R. Crarx, Limrrep, Edinburgh MESSRS. HENRY SOTHERAN & CO.’S Watural bistory Publications MR. MILLAIS’ AND OTHER WORKS. BRITISH DEER AND THEIR HORNS: With 185 Text and Full-page Illustrations, mostly by the Author; also 10 Electrogravures and a Coloured Frontispiece by the Author and Sydney Steel, and a Series of Unpublished Drawings by Sir Edwin Landseer, which were formerly on the walls of Ardverikie. One volume imperial 4to, printed by Messrs. R. & R. Clark on Art Paper, bound in buckram, top edges gilt, £4, 4S. nett. Many books have been written on the stalking of the deer, but assuredly the noble denizens of the forests and southland parks have never had such a tribute before as in Mr. Millais’s magnificent volume. In sporting language they speak of warrantable stags ; we should say that this is a warrantable deer book.— 77zmes. Mr, J. G. Millais’s fine book on British Deer is one of the best monographs of the kind yet written; and, for com- prehensive interest, other than that attaching to these animals as objects of the chase, it deserves to rank as the first authority on the subject. So far from finding it difficult to say anything new, he says very little which is not new, and though its interest is less varied than that of his South African notes in 4 Breath from the Veldt, many of the drawings from nature are quite as brilliant, and the letterpress is, from the nature of the subject, more complete. —Spectator. The standard authority on the Fabits and Hybrids of the British Tetraonide. GAME BIRDS AND SHOOTING SKETCHES; Illustrating the Habits, Modes of Capture, Stages of Plumage, and the Hybrids and Varieties which occur among them. New and Cheaper Edition, in one volume octavo, printed on Art Paper, bound in buckram., With 57 Illustrations by the Author, and a Frontispiece by Sir John Millais, 18s. nett. Though the Game Birds of this country are but few, and most men interested in sport have within their reach excellent pictures of the various species which are already best known to them in their complete stage of plumage, as yet no work that has been published in this country has entered fully upon a thorough description by illustration of all the stages of plumage, in addition to the varieties, hybrids, and unusual habits that are not perhaps generally known to the ordinary sportsman. He should therefore possess such a book, at a reasonable price, which will fill to as large an extent as possible this existing want, so that he may be able to use it as a book of reference to recognise at once any form or variety of the birds of the chase, rare or common, that may have puzzled him to identify. It has therefore been the writer’s object for some years past to produce such a work, and he has spared neither labour nor expense to render it as complete and comprehensive as possible. A COMPLETE SET OF MR. GOULD’S MAGNIFICENT SERIES OF ORNITHOLOGIGAL & OTHER WORKS Uniformly printed in Imperial folio size, and comprising— THE BIRDS OF EUROPE, with 449 Coloured Plates, 5 vols. THE BIRDS OF AUSTRALIA, with the Supplement, 681 Coloured Plates, 8 vols. THE MAMMALS OF AUSTRALIA, with 182 Coloured Plates, 3 vols. [Plates, 1 vol. A CENTURY OF BIRDS FROM THE HIMALAYAN MOUNTAINS, with 80 Coloured THE BIRDS OF GREAT BRITAIN, with 367 Coloured Plates, 5 vols. [6 vols. THE TROCHILIDA, OR HUMMING-BIRDS, with the Supplement, with 416 Coloured Plates, THE RHAMPHASTIDA, OR FAMILY OF TOUCANS, with 51 Coloured Plates, 1 vol. THE TROGONIDA, OR FAMILY OF TROGONS, with 47 Coloured Plates, 1 vol. THE ODONTOPHORINA, OR PARTRIDGES OF AMERICA, with 32 Coloured Plates, 1 vol. THE BIRDS OF ASIA, with 530 Coloured Plates, 7 vols. [5 vols. THE BIRDS OF NEW GUINEA AND THE PAPUAN ISLANDS, with 320 Coloured Plates, Forming together 43 vols. Imperial folio. Uniformly bound in the best style in Green Morocco, super extra. Gilt edges. Price and full Particulars on application; also full Deseriptive CATALOGUE OF GOULD’S WORKS. Messrs. Henry Sotheran & Co.’s Natural History Publications : ASIATIC BIRDS Fifty-Four Specimens (hand-coloured after nature) selected from“ The Birds of Asia” of the late JOHN GOULD, F.B.S, P.Z55 6te With their full descriptions. One volume, Imperial folio. Half Morocco super extra, gilt edges, L12, 12S. nett. The above handsome work will be found to convey a very good idea of the great extent and variety of Asiatic Ornithology, as it includes examples both of the larger and more splendid, and of the smaller and homelier, Asiatic birds. It also puts some of the most beautiful specimens of Mr, Gould’s artistic skill within the reach of the general public, which, now that nearly all his works are out of print, is otherwise almost impossible ; while it forms one of the handsomest gift-books to be imagined. x A HANDBOOK TO THE BIRDS OF AUSTRALIA By JOHN GOULD, ERS, FiZ.5,. ete. Two Volumes, Imperial octavo, Cloth, £2, 10s, nett. The Author says that since the publication of his ‘folio work on Zhe Birds of Australia, many new species have been discovered, and much additional information acquired respecting those comprised therein ; it therefore appeared to him that a careful ésmé of the whole subject in an octavo form, without plates, would be useful to the possessor of the folio edition, as well as to the many persons in Australia who are now turning their attention to the Ornithology of the country in which they are resident.” “The two volumes (he also says) contain a considerable amount of interesting information, avd descriptions of many species not in the folio edition.” A SYNOPSIS OF THE BIRDS OF AUSTRALIA AND THE ADJACENT ISLANDS By JOHN GOULD, F.R.S., F.Z.S., ete. Containing 73 Coloured Plates, with copious descriptions. One Volume, Imperial octavo. Newly bound in Half Morocco, gilt edges, £5 nett. Whole Morocco extra, gilt edges, £6, Os. nett. ‘The object of the present publication (says the Author) is in the first instance to make known and record in an eligible form the vast accessions which Science has latterly acquired from this portion of the globe ; and in order to render it of real value and utility to the men of Science of all countries, he has given, besides a Latin and English description, measurements, synonyms, etc., a figure of the head, of the natural size, of every species, a feature not to be found in preceding works of a similar nature, and by which each bird may at once be distinguished, hitherto a matter of some difficulty, particularly in those that are nearly allied.” Tus Work (even more than the ‘HANDBOOK ”) SHOULD BE IN THE HANDS OF EVERY AUSTRALIAN COLONIST who cares for the Natural History of his country, as the Descriptions and Illustrations enable him to identify with ease the various Birds he may come across in his out-of-door life. DR. BOWDLER SHARPE’S INDEX TO GOULD. A Reference Work of the greatest service to Ornithological Students. The Edition limited to 250 Simall and 100 Large Paper Copies. ANALYTICAL INDEX To the Complete Series of the Ornithological and other Works of Jous Goutn, FE. RSy F.Z.5% ete Containing upwards of 17,000 Cross References to all the Species figured in Mr. GouLp’s grand Works, a Biographical Memoir and Portrait of the Ornithologist, and a Bibliography ; by R. BowpDLer Suarpe, LL.D., F.L.S. (by whom Mr. Gould’s works were completed after his death). One Volume, Imperial 8vo, cloth, top edges gilt, £1, 16s. nett. LARGE PAPER EDITION, Imperial quarto, half morocco, top edges gilt, £4, 4s. nett. 37 Piccadilly, W., and 140 Strand, W.C. Privately printed Collection of Drawings of Tropical Flowers. Fifty Copies only executed. BRAZILIAN FLOWERS ’ Drawn from Nature in the years 1880 to 1882, in the Neighbourhood of Rio de Janeiro (Larangeiras, Tijuca, Paqueta, and Petropolis), many of the specimens gathered in primeval forests ; by E. H.N. Fifty Magnificent Hand-coloured Plates, on thick atlas folio paper, most beautifully coloured, after the Original Drawings, enclosed in portfolio, price 415: 15S. nett. CONTENTS LEGUMINOS#&.—Poinciana regia. Banhinia maculata. Mucuna. Erythrina (3 plates). ORCHIDACEA. —Leelia crispa. Stanhopia graviolens. Oncidium pratextum. Oncidium divaricatum. Burlingtonia decora. Zygopetalum maxillare. Cattleya Leopoldi. Miltonia Blowesii. Cirrhzea tristis. Epidendrum ellipticum. Epidendrum odoratissimum. Brassavola Perriniii © BOMBACE®.—Bombax pubescens. CONVOLVULACE#.—Ipomea horsfallie. MALVACE&.—Hibiscus rosa-sinensis. Fugosia. ACANTHACE. Thunbergia laurifolia. Hexacentris mysorensis. APOCYNACE&.—Vinca major. Plumieria rubra. Beaumontia grandiflora. MyRTAaCE®.—Eugenia Malaccensis. Eugenia. Metrosideros floribunda. Grumijama. Calothamnos. LILIACE#.—Amaryllis hippeastrum. Amaryllis calyptratum. SCITAMINEA. —Alpinia nutans. Hedychium coronarium. MuSACE#.—Heliconia angustifolia. CACTE#.—Cereus grandiflorus. | MELASTOMACE#.—Lassiandra (Pleroma) elegans. ARISTOLOCHIACE#.—Aristolochia brasiliensis. CRASSULACEZ.—Bryophyllum calycinum. SOLANACE.—Atropa (Solanum) belladonna. BROMELIACE.—Tillandsia psittacina. SCITAMINE#.—Calathea. Canna. VERBENACE£.—Cleroden- dron. RUBIACE#,—Psycleotria. ASCLEPIADEZ.—Cryptostegia. Petraea volobulis. Combretum. Nothing can exceed the beauty of these splendid plates. They comprise many of the grandest and most beautiful flowers which glorify the tropical forests of Brazil, including many of the ORcHIDs for which they are most famous, The whole have been coloured by hand by the staff of colourers retained by the advertisers for the production of Mr. GouLp’s great ornithological works, The collection may justly be styled the grandest and most beautiful botanical work that has appeared in England for many years. As the whole edition is limited to fifty copies, and of these all but a few have been given in presents, early application is strongly recommended to secure one of the remaining copies. THE GREAT WORK ON ORCHIDS REICHENBACHIA ORCHIDS ILLUSTRATED AND DESCRIBED By F. SANDER, Sr. ALBANS Assisted by eminent Scientific Authorities. Magnificently illustrated in Colours. Complete in 48 Parts, imperial quarto, each containing 4 Plates, with descriptive Letterpress in English, French, and German. Ordinary Edition in Parts, price £35 nett ; or in 4 vols., half morocco, guarded throughout, top edges gilt, £45 nett; or whole morocco extra, guarded, gilt edges, £55 nett. Imperial Edition (limited to 100 Copies). Printed on Large Whatman Paper, with the Plates retouched by the Artist, and mounted on Card- board, 48 Parts, Atlas Folio (size 27 by 29 inches), price £50, 8s. nett; or in 8 vols. handsomely bound in half levant morocco extra, guarded, gilt edges, £80 nett ; or whole levant morocco extra, guarded, gilt edges, £100 nett. The growing popularity of Orchids, the ever-increasing demand for information respecting them, and the indifferent serial works relating to this lovely and important class of plants hitherto published, are sufficient reasons for issuing this splendid work. It has been the aim of the authors to represent faithfully the natural aspect of the plants, which are drawn life-size ; and in addition to the coloured illustrations, scientific drawings of the structural parts of the flowers have been given when desirable. Some of the plant-portraits are coloured by lithography, others are hand-painted, as has been found expedient. To the detailed information respecting each plant are added practical notes on its culture. It has been the intention of the authors to illustrate all classes of the Orchid family, and species and varieties of garden value, whether old or new, find a place in the work. Messrs. Henry Sotheran & Co.’s Natural History Publications In Course of Publication. Part 7 Now Ready. A MONOGRAPH OF THE TURDIDZA, or Family of Thrushes. By the late HENRY SEEBOHM (Author of Siberia in Europe, Siberia in Asta, etc., etc. ). Edited and completed by R. BOWDLER SHARPE, LL.D., F.L.S,, etc., etc. of the British Museum), illustrated with 144 plates drawn by J. G. Keulemans, and coloured by hand; also fine Photo- gravure Portrait, price £1, 16s. nett per part (only sold complete). The work will be published in 12 parts, each containing 12 Plates, issued at short intervals. The whole edition is strictly limited to Two Hundred and Fifty Copies, for which immediate application is strongly recommended, as a large number are already subscribed for. ; A MONOGRAPH of the PARADISEIDZ, or Birds of Paradise, and PTILONORHYNCHIDZ, or Bower-Birds. By R. BOWDLER SHARPE, LL.D., F.Z.S., etc. Illustrated with 79 magnificent Hand Coloured Illustrations ; complete ‘in 8 Parts, imperial folio, uniform with Mr. GOULD’s WorKS. Price £25, 4s. nett. Bound in two fine volumes, half morocco extra, gilt edges, £30 nett ; or whole morocco super extra, gilt edges, £35 nett. The author. believes that this is the most complete account of the Birds of Paradise which has yet been compiled, as it includes the results of all the recent workers in New Guinea, where some most splendid species lately discovered have been figured in this work, including Paradisornis Rudolphi, Astrarchia Stephanie, Paradisea Auguste Victoria, etc. Where practicable, the fine plates of Gould’s Birds of New Guinea have been employed; but in many cases the species have been re-drawn by Mr. Hart, the artist who assisted Mr. Gould in the production of his plates for more than forty years. : A MONOGRAPH of the HIRUNDINIDA, or Family of Swal- lows. By R. BOWDLER SHARPE, LL.D., F.Z.S., etc., and CLAUDE W. WYATT, Member of the British Ornithologists’ Union. (ustrated with 53 beautiful Hand-Coloured Plates of the several Species, and 11 Coloured Maps showing Geographical Distribution. Price in parts, £10, 10s. nett (only sold complete). Substantially bound in two volumes quarto, calf gilt, £12, ros. nett. Strong half morocco, uncut, top edges gilt, £12, 12s. nett. This beautiful work is uniform with Dr. Sharpe’s Monograph of the Kingfishers, and other like works in Ornithology, and is the only work completely treating this widely extended and interesting family. Besides the portraits of the various species, there is the valuable feature of eleven coloured maps to illustrate the geographical distribution and the course of the yearly migrations, of a thoroughness never attempted before, and the work may, as indicated above, be considered as exhausting its subject for many years to come. BY HOOK AND BY CROOK. By FRASER SANDEMAN. One volume crown quarto, illustrated with Coloured Plates of Flies, etc, and many other Illustrations, from Water- colour Drawings and Etchings by the Author. Cloth, top edges gilt, 18s. nett. A sumptuous and entertaining book, the work of a keen angler, who has fished in many waters, has opinions of his own about salmon fishing and salmon flies, and yet can write about the chub and other fish, and who is able with his pencil to illustrate the product of his pen. The illustrations consist of coloured plates of flies, and sketches from water- colour drawings and etchings of the author. . .. The author does not claim either literary or artistic merit for his book, but it has both. The bulk of the matter relates to salmon fishing, the same being both angling adventures and didactic suggestions. Such chapters as ‘The Angler’s Friends and Enemies’ are invaluable to the young angler, who will find the result of long experience presented in a comprehensive form for his instruction. . .. Mr. Sandeman is not so taken up with his fishing as to be unable to spare a passing word to the feathered companions of his sport in the moorland districts; he does the water-ouzel the justice of affirming that he well deserves his title of the fisherman’s companion. For the reminiscences in England and Ireland, the instructions for minnow fishing for salmon, and accidents of flood and field, we must refer the reader to the book itself, and it is a volume which anglers will welcome. —Field. NEW PRINTS. MILLAIS (Sir J. E., Bart., P.R.A,). THE LAST TREK. Very finely reproduced in Photogravure from the Artist’s Original Drawing (his last finished production), The whole impression limited to 550 Copies, Proofs before letters, on India Paper, price £2, 2s. nett. The above Print is a wholly new photogravure from Sir John Millais’s last complete drawing, which he produced as a frontispiece to his son’s work 4 Breath from the Veldt, where it appears on a reduced scale. It therefore possesses a twofold interest, as one of the very last productions of its Author’s pen, and from its own touching subject—the death of a hunter on the Veldt, watched by his two faithful native ‘‘boys,” under the rays of the setting sun. The reproduc- tion is a very fine one, and conveys with remarkable success the effect of the original drawing. PORTRAIT OF HENRY SEEBOHM, F.Z.S., Author of ‘Siberia in Europe,’ etc. Finely reproduced in Photogravure from the last Photograph of the Author. Proof Impressions on India Paper, price 15s. nett. _ From Mr. Seebohm’s great eminence as an omithologist, and the great respect in which he was held by his many friends, it has been thought that many would like to possess a good portrait of him in a permanent form. 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