JOCK- OF'TffE-BUSHVELD SfR • PERCY- FITZPATRICR LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SANTA BARBARA PRESENTED BY WILLIAM REPPY fin-1 A r JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD By SIR PERCY FITZPATRICK With 23 full-page Illustrations (i Coloured), and numerous other Illustrations round the margins of pages by E. CALDWELL. Large crown 8vo, 6s. net. ABRIDGED EDITION (arranged as a School Reading Book), with Note and Glossary. With Coloured Frontispiece, 8 full-page and numerous Illustrations in the Text. Crown 8vo, is. 6d. Also in superior binding suitable for a School Prize. Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. Also translated into Dutch by GUSTAV S. PRELLER. Crown 8vo, is. gd. LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. LONDON, NEW YORK, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA "JOCK." JOCK OF THE B US H VELD CALCUTTA BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE First printed Sept. 1907 ; reprinted Nov. 1907 (3 times) May 1908, Sept. 1909, February 1911, and July 1913. SCHOOL EDITION. First printed Aug. 1908 ; reprinted Aug. 1911, and April 1913. PRIZE EDITION. First printed Aug. 1908; reprinted April 1909, November 1910, ana* A/ay 1911. DUTCH EDITION. First printed Sept. 1909. Befctcation It was the youngest of the High Authorities who gravely informed the Inquiring Stranger that "Jock belongs to the Likkle People!" That being so, it is clearly the duty, no less than the privilege, of the Mere Narrator to S3 eft t rate The Story of Jock to Those Keenest and Kindest of Critics, Best of Friends, and Most Delightful of Comrades The Likkle People PREFACE " SONNY, you kin reckon it dead sure, thar's something wrong 'bout a thing that don't explain itself." That was Old Rooky's advice, given three-and- twenty years ago — not forgotten yet, but, in this instance, respectfully ignored. It happened some years ago, and this was the way of it : the Fox of Ballybotherem having served three generations — in his native Tipperary, in Kaffraria, and in the Transvaal — seemed entitled to a rest ; and when, in the half-hour before ' lights out,' which is the Little People's particular own, the demand came from certain Autocrats of the Nightgown : " Now, tell us something else ! " it occurred to the Puzzled One to tell of Jock's fight with the table leg. And that is how the trouble began. Those with experience will know what followed ; and, for those less for- tunate, the modest demand of one, comfortably tucked up tailorwise, and emphasising his points by excited hand-shakes with his toes, will convey the idea : " It must be all true ! and don't leave out anything ! " vii To such an audience a story may be told a hundred times, but it must be told, as Kipling says, " Just so ! " that is, in the same way ; because, even a romance (what a three-year-old once excused as " only a play tell ") must be true — to itself ! Once Jock had taken the field it was not long before the narrator found himself helped or driven over the pauses by quick suggestions from the Gallery ; but there were days of fag and worry when thoughts lagged or strayed, and when slips were made, and then a vigilant and pitiless memory swooped like the striking falcon on its prey. There came a night when the story was of the Old Crocodile, and one in the Gallery — one of more exuberant fancy — seeing the gate open ran into the flower-strewn field of romance and by suggestive questions and eager promptings helped to gather a little posy : " And he caught the Crocodile by the tail, didn't he ? " " And he hung on and fought him, didn't he ? " " And the Old Crocodile flung him high into the air ? High ! " and, turning to the two juniors, added " quite as high as the house ! " And the narrator — accessory by reason of a mechanical nod and an absent-minded " Yes " passed on, thinking it could all be put right next time. But there is no escape from the ' tangled web ' when the Little People sit in judgment. It was months later when retribution came. The critical point of the story was safely passed when — Oh ; the irony and poetic justice of it — it was the innocent tempter himself who laid his hand in solemn protest on the narrator's shoulder and, looking him reproach- viii fully in the eyes, said " Dad ! You have left out the best part of all. Don't you remember how . . ." And the description which followed only emphasises the present writer's unfitness for the task he has undertaken. In the text of the story and in the illus- tration by my friend Mr. Caldwell (who was himself subjected to the same influence) there is left a loophole for fancy : it is open to any one to believe that Jock is just beginning or just ending his aerial excursion. The Important People are not satisfied ; but then the page is not big enough to exhibit Jock at the top of that flight — of fancy ! From the date of that lesson it was apparent that reputations would suffer if the story of Jock were not speedily embodied in some durable and authori- tative form, and during a long spell of ill health many of the incidents were retold in the form of letters to the Little People. Other Less Important Persons — grown-ups — read them and sometimes heard them, and so it came about that the story of Jock was to be printed for private circulation, for the Little People and their friends. Then the story was read in manu- script and there came still more ambitious counsels, some urging the human story of the early days, others the wild animal life of South Africa. Conscious of many deficiencies the narrator has left two great fields practically untouched, adhering to the original idea — the story of Jock ; and those who come into it, men and animals, come in because of him and the life in which he played so large a part. The attempt to adapt the original letters to the symmetry of a ix connected story involved, as one might have known, endless trouble and changes, necessitating complete re-writing of most parts ; and the responsibility and work became still greater when, after a casual and un- foreseen meeting, my friend Mr. Caldwell accepted the suggestion to come out to South Africa and spend six months with us in order to study the game in its native bush and to know the conditions of the life and put that experience into the work of illustrating " Jock." The writer is well aware that, from the above causes and one other, there are grave inequalities in style and system, and in plane of phrase and thought, in different parts of the book. For this feature the * one other ' cause is alone put forward as a defence. The story belongs to the Little People, and their requirements were defined — " It must be all true ! Don't leave out anything!" It has been necessary to leave out a great deal ; but the other condition has been fully and fairly complied with ; for it is a true story from beginning to end. It is not a diary : incidents have been grouped and moved to get over the difficulty of blank days and bad spells, but there is no incident of importance or of credit to Jock which is not absolutely true. The severest trial in this connection was in the last chapter, which is bound to recall perhaps the most famous and most cherished of all dog stories. Much, indeed, would have been sacrificed to avoid that ; but it was unthinkable that, for any reason, one should in the last words shatter the spell that holds Jock dear to those for whom his life is chronicled — the spell that lies in ' a true story.' x Little by little the book has grown until it has come perilously near the condition in which it might be thought to have Pretensions. It has none ! It is what it was : a simple record, compiled for the interest and satisfaction of some Little People, and a small tribute of remembrance and affection offered at the shrine of the old life and those who made it — tendered in the hope that some one better equipped with opportunities and leisure may be inspired to do justice to it and to them for the sake of our native land. XI CONTENTS THE BACKGROUND .... INTO THE BUSHVELD .... JESS THE PICK OF THE PUPPIES JOCK'S SCHOOLDAYS .... THE FIRST HUNT .... IN THE HEART OF THE BUSH . LOST IN THE VELD .... THE IMPALA STAMPEDE JOCK'S NIGHT OUT .... THE KOODOO BULL .... JIM MAKOKEL' THE ALLIES THE BERG PARADISE CAMP THE TIGER AND BABOONS . BUFFALO, BUSHFIRE AND WILD DOGS SNOWBALL AND TSETSE xiii PACE I 48 54 73 99 117 153 171 180 192 209 223 240 257 275 304 PAOS JOCK'S MISTAKE .......... 3x8 JANTJE ..... . 333 MONKEYS AND WILDEBEESTE ....... 358 THE OLD CROCODILE ......... 374 THE FIGHTING BABOON ........ 3gX THE LAST TREK .......... 4II OUR LAST HUNT ......... 430 OUR VARIOUS WAYS ......... 44g His DUTY 461 XIV ;FI/LL PACE- 1 LLUSTR ATIONS To/ace page " Jock " (coloured) Frontispiece " Come along o' me " 7 " It was my dawg " 40 " And there at my heels was the odd puppy " . . . -67 " I believe you've got the champion after all " .... 72 " The last we saw of our birthday treat " . . . .81 Jim's circus crocodile 104 " Say, Buggins, what in thunder are you doing ? " . . . 129 " They seemed to whirl like leaves in a wind eddy " . . 160 " What had happened out in the silent ghostly bush that night ? " 179 " His shoulder humped against the tree, he stood the tug of war" 191 " With his nose in the air eyed them with mild curiosity " . 213 " Old Charlie coming along without any fuss at all " . .226 " Tugging with all his might " 254 " Scrambling down the face came more and more baboons " . 272 " Good-bye, and — thank you ! " 303 " I grabbed a fistful of shirt and held on " .... 314 " With one toss right on top of the thorn-tree "... 345 XV To face page " The haunting mystery of eyes and nothing more " . . 372 " The lashing tail sent the dog up with a column of water " . 389 " Let him fight, Baas ! you said it ! " 399 " The brave mother stood between her young and death " . 433 "Just to watch him, that was enough " 444 XVI V BCKGROUND OF the people who live lonely lives, on the veld or elsewhere, few do so of their own free choice. Some there are shut off from all their kind — souls sheathed in some film invisible, through which no thrill of^, sympathy may pass ; some barred by their self-con- sciousness, heart hungry still, who never learned in^S^!^ childhood to make friends ; some have a secret or a grief ; some, thoughts too big or bad for comrade- ship. But most will charge to Fate the thoughtless choice, the chance, or hard necessity, that drew or drove them to the life apart ; they know the lesson that was learned of old : " It is not good for man to be alone." Go out among them, ever moving on, whose white bones mark the way for others' feet — who shun the cities, living in the wilds, and move in silence, self- contained. Who knows what they think, or dream, or hope, or suffer ? Who can know ? For speech among that hard-schooled lot is but a half-remembered art. Yet something you may guess, since with the man there often goes — his dog ; his silent tribute to The Book. Oh, it's little they know of life who cannot guess the secret springs of loneliness and love that prompt the keeping of a trifling pet ; who do not know what moves a man who daily takes his chance of life and death — man whose " breath is in his nostrils " — to lay his cheek against the muzzle of his comrade dog, and in the trackless miles of wilderness feel he has a friend. Something to hold to ; something to protect. There was old Blake — " mad, quite mad," as every- body knew — of whom they vaguely said that horses, hounds, coaches, covers, and all that goes with old estates, were his — once. We knew him poor and middle-aged. How old to us ! Cheery and un- practical, with two old pointers and a fowling-piece, and a heart as warm as toast. We did not ask each other's business there ; and, judging by the dogs and gun, we put him down as a ' remittance man.' But that, it seems, was wrong. They were his all. He left no letters — a little pile of paper ash ; no money and no food ! That was his pride. He would not sell or give away his dogs ! That was his love. When he could not keep them it seemed time to go ! That was his madness. But before he went, remembering a friend in hospital, he borrowed two cartridges and brought him in a brace of birds. That was old mad Blake, who * moved on ' and took his dogs with him, because they had always been together, and he could not leave their fate to chance. So we buried him with one on either side, just as he would have liked it ! There was Turner, who shot the crocodile that seized his dog, and reckless of the others, swam in and brought the dog to land. There was the dog that jumped in when his master slipped from the rock, and, swimming beside him was snapped down in his stead ! And there was the boy who tried a rescue in the dark — when a rustle, yelp and growl told that the lions had his dog — and was never seen again. So it goes, and so it went, from year to year : a little showing now and then, like the iceberg's tip, from which to guess the bulk below. a Boy who went to seek his fortune, or man : the years proved nothing There was Call him boy either way ! Some will be boyish always ; others were never young : a few — most richly dowered few — are man and boy together. He went to seek his fortune, as boys will and should ; no pressure on him from about ; no promise from beyond. For life was easy there, and all was pleasant, as it may be — in a cage. * To-day ' is sure and happy ; and there is no ' to-morrow ' — in a cage. There were friends enough — all kind and true — and in their wisdom they said : " Here it is safe : yonder all is chance, where many indeed are called, but few — so few — are chosen. Many have gone forth ; some to return, beaten, hopeless, and despised ; some to fall in sight outside ; others are lost, we know not where ; and ah ! so few are free and well. But the fate of numbers is unheeded still ; for the few are those who count, and lead ; and those who follow do not 3 think ' How few,' but cry ' How strong ! How free ! ' Be wise and do not venture. Here it is safe : there is no fortune there ! " But there was something stronger than the things he knew, around, without, beyond — the thing that strove within him : that grew and grew, and beat and fought for freedom : that bade him go and walk alone and tell his secret on the mountain slopes to one who would not laugh — a little red retriever ; that made him climb and feel his strength, and find an outlet for what drove within. And thus the end was sure ; for of all the voices none so strong as this ! And only those others reached him that would chime with it ; the gentle ones which said : " We too believe," and one, a stronger, saying : " Fifty years ago I did it. I would do it now again ! " So the Boy set out to seek his fortune, and did not find it ; for there was none in the place where he sought. Those who warned him were — in the little — right : yet was he — in the greater — right too ! It was not given to him as yet to know that fortune is not in time or place or things ; but, good or bad, in the man's own self for him alone to find and prove. Time and place and things had failed him ; still was effort right ; and, when the first was clear beyond all question, it was instinct and not knowledge bade him still go on, saying : " Not back to the cage. Anything but that ! " When many days had passed, it was again a friend who met him, saying : " Common sense is not 4 cowardice. You have made a mistake : repair it while you may. I have seen and know : there is nothing here. Come back with me, and all will be made easy." And answer, in reason, there was none ; for the little truth was all too plain, and the greater not yet seen. But that which had swelled to bursting and had fought within for freedom called out : " Failure is the worst of all ! " And the blind and struggling instinct rose against all knowledge and all reason. " Not back to the cage ! Not that ! " And the heart that had once been young spoke up for Auld Lang Syne : the old eyes softened and dropped : " God speed you, Boy — Good-bye ! " And as the mail-coach rumbled off the Boy put up his head — to try again. The days passed, and still there was no work to do. For, those who were there already — hardened men and strong, pioneers who had roughed it — were themselves in straitened case, and it was no place for boys. So the Boy moved on again, and with him a man in equal plight, but, being a man, a guide and comfort to the Boy, and one to lead him on the way. Hungry, they walked all day ; yet when the sun went down and light began to fail the place where work and food and sleep should be was still far off. The mountain tracks were rough and all unknown ; the rivers many, cold and swift : the country wild ; none lived, few ever passed, that way. When night closed in the Boy walked on in front, and the man lagged wearily, 5 grumbling at their luck. In the valley at the mountain foot they came at midnight upon water, black and still, between them and the cabin's lights beyond ; and there the man lay down. Then the Boy, turning in his anger, bade him come on ; and, dragging him -^L- out upon the further bank, had found — unknowing — some little of the fortune he had come to seek. Still, morning brought no change ; still, was there no work to do. So the man gave up, and sagging back, was lost. And the Boy went on alone. Rough and straight-spoken, but kindly men and true, were those he came among. What they could they did : what they had they gave. They made him free of board and bed ; and, kinder still, now and then made work for him to do, knowing his spirit was as theirs and that his heart cried out : " Not charity, but work ! Give me work ! " But that they could not do, for there was no work they could not do themselves. Thus the days and weeks went by. Willing, but unused to fend for himself — unfit by training for the wild rough life, heart and energy all to waste, the little he did know of no value there — the struggle with the ebbing tide went on ; it was the wearing hopeless fight against that which one cannot grapple, and cannot even see. There was no work to be done. A few days here and there ; a little passing job ; a helping hand disguised ; and then the quest again. They were all friendly — but, with the kindly habit of the place : it told the tale of hopelessness too well. They did not even ask his name ; it made no difference. 6 o u Then came a day when there was nowhere else to try. Among the lounging diggers at their week-end deals he stood apart — too shy, too proud to tell the truth ; too conscious of it to trust his voice ; too hungry to smile as if he did not care ! And then a man in muddy moleskins, with grave face, brown beard, and soft blue eyes, came over to him, saying straight : " Boy, you come along o' me ! " And he went. It was work — hard work. But the joy of it ! Shovelling in the icy water, in mud and gravel, and among the boulders, from early dawn to dark. What matter ? It was work. It was not for hire, but just to help one who had helped him ; to * earn his grub ' and feel he was a man, doing the work of his friend's partner, * who was away.' For three full weeks the Boy worked on ; grateful for the toil ; grateful for the knowledge gained ; most grateful that he could by work repay a kindness. And then the truth came out ! The kindly fiction fell away as they sat and rested on the day of rest. " The claim could not stand two white men's grub " had fallen from the man, accounting for his partner's absence. _^s It was the simple and unstudied truth and calm unconsciousness of where it struck that gave the thrust its force ; and in the clear still air of the Sunday morning the Boy turned hot and cold and dizzy to think of his folly, and of the kindness he had so long imposed upon. It was a little spell before his lips 7 would smile, and eyes and voice were firm enough to lie. Then he said gently : If he could be spared — he had not liked to ask before, but now the floods were over and the river turned perhaps it could be managed — he would like to go, as there were letters waiting, and he expected news. Up the winding pathway over rocky ledge and grassy slope, climbing for an hour to the pass, the toil and effort kept the hot thoughts under. At the top the Boy sat down to rest. The green rock-crested mountains stood like resting giants all around : the rivers, silvered by the sun, threaded their ways between : the air was clear, and cool, and still. The world was very beautiful from there. Far, far below — a brownish speck beside the silver streak — stood the cabin he had left. And, without warning, all came back on him. What he had mastered rose beyond control. The little child that lies hidden in us all reached out — as in the dark — for a hand to hold ; and there was none. His arms went up to hide the mocking glory of the day, and, face buried in the grass, he sobbed : " Not worth my food ! " Science tells that Nature will recoup herself by ways as well defined as those that rule mechanics. The blood flows upward — and the brain's awhirl ; the ebb-tide sets — and there is rest. Whatever impulse sways the guiding hand, we know that often when we need it most there comes relief; gently, unbidden, unobserved. The Boy slept, and there was peace awhile. Then came faint echoes of the waking thoughts — odd words shot out, of hope and resolution ; murmured names of those at home. Once his hand went out and gently touched the turf, reaching for the friend and comrade of the past — one who knew his every mood, had heard his wildest dreams described, had seen him, hot-eyed, breathless, struggling to escape the cage ; one to whom the boyish soul was often bared in foolish confidence ; one who could see and hear and feel, yet never tell — a little red retriever left at home ; and the boy stirred and sighed, for answer to the soft brown eyes. No ! It is not good for man to be alone. A wisp of drifting cloud came by, a breath of cooler air, and the fickle spirit of the mountain changed the day as with a wand. The Boy woke up shivering, dazed, bewildered : the mountain of his dreams had vanished ; and his dog was not there ! The cold driving mist had blotted out the world. Stronger and stronger grew the wind, driving the damp cold through and through ; for on the bleak plateau of the mountain nothing broke its force. Pale and shaken, and a little stiff, he looked about ; then slowly faced the storm. It had not struck him to turn back. The gusts blew stronger, and through the mist came rain, in single stinging drops — portents of the greater storm. Slowly, as he bent to breast it, the chilled blood warmed, and when the first thunderclap split 9 overhead, and lost itself in endless roars and rumblings in the kloofs and hills around, there came a warmth about his heart and a light into his eye — mute thanks- giving that here was something he could battle with and be a man again. On the top of the world the storms work all their fury. Only there come mist and wind and rain, thunder and lightning and hail together — the pitiless ]. /.terrible hail : there, where the hare hiding in the grass 'may know it is the highest thing in all God's world, and nearest to the storm — the one clear mark to draw the lightning — and, knowing, scurries to the sheltered slopes. But the Boy pressed on — the little path a racing stream to guide him. Then in the one group of ghostly, mist-blurred rocks he stopped to drink ; and, as he bent — for all the blackness of the storm — his face leaped out at him, reflected for one instant in the shallow pool ; the blue-white flame of lightning, blinding his aching eyes, hissed down ; the sickening smell of brimstone spread about ; and crash ing thunder close above his head left him dazed and breathless. Heedless of the rain, blinking the blackness from his eyes, he sat still for head to clear, and limbs to feel their life again ; and, as he waited, slowly there ^ame upon a colder stiller air that other roar, so far, so dull, so uniform ; so weird and terrifying — the voice of the coming hail. Huddled beneath the shelving rock he watched the storm sweep by with awful battering din that swamped 10 and silenced every other sound — the tearing, smashing hail that seemed to strip the mountain to its very bone. Oh ! the wanton fury of the hail ; the wild, destruc- tive charge of hordes of savage cavalry ; the stamping, smashing sweep along the narrow strip where all the fury concentrates ; the long black trail of death and desolation ! The birds and beasts, the things that creep and fly, all know the portents, and all flee before it, or aside. But in the darkness — in the night or mist — the slow, the weak, the helpless, and the mothers with their young — for them is little hope. The dense packed column swept along, ruthless, raging, and unheeding, overwhelming all. ... A sudden failing of its strength, a little straggling tail, and then — the silence! The sun came out ; the wind died down ; light veils of mist came slowly by — bits of floating gossamer — and melted in the clear, pure air. The Boy stepped out once more. Miles away the black column of the falling hail sped its appointed course. Under his feet, where all had been so green and beautiful, was battered turf, for the time trans- formed into a mass of dazzling brilliants, where jagged ice-stones caught the sunlight on their countless facets, and threw it back in one fierce flashing glare, blinding in its brilliance. On the glittering surface many things stood out. In the narrow pathway near the spring a snake lay on its back, crushed and broken ; beyond it, a tortoise, not yet dead, but bruised and battered II through its shell ; then a partridge — poor unprotected thing — the wet feathers lying all around, stripped as though a hawk had stricken it, and close behind it all the little brood ; and further afield lay something reddish-brown — a buck — the large eyes glazed, an ooze of blood upon its lips and nose. He stooped to touch it, but drew back : the dainty little thing was pulp. All striving for the sheltering rocks ; all caught and stricken by the ruthless storm ; and he, going on to face it, while others fled before — he, blindly fighting on — was spared. Was it luck ? Or was there something subtle, more ? He held to this, that more than chance had swayed the guiding hand of fate — that fortune holds some gifts in store for those who try ; and faith resurgent moved him to a mute Te Deum, of which no more reached the conscious brain than : "It is good to be alive ! But . . . better so than in the cage." Once more, a little of the fortune that he had come to seek ! At sunset, passing down the long rough gorge, he came upon one battling with the flood to save his all — the white man struggling with the frightened beasts ; the kaffir swept from off his feet ; the mad bewildered oxen yielding to the stream and heading downwards towards the falls — and in their utmost need the Boy swam in and helped ! And there the long slow ebb was stayed : the Boy was worth his food. 12 But how recall the life when those who made it set so little store by all that passed, and took its ventures for their daily lot ; when those who knew it had no gift or thought to fix the colours of the fading past : the fire of youth ; the hopes ; the toil ; the bright illusions gone ! And now, the Story of a Dog to conjure up a face, a name, a voice, or the grip of a friendly hand ! And the half-dreamed sound of the tramping feet is all that is left of the live procession long since passed : the young recruits ; the laggards and the faint ; the few who saw it through ; the older men — grave-eyed, thoughtful, unafraid — who judged the future by the battered past, and who knew none more nor less than man — unconscious equals of the best and least ; the grey-hued years ; the thin- ning ranks ; the summons answered, as they had lived — alone. The tale untold ; and, of all who knew it, none left to picture now the life, none left to play a grateful comrade's part, and place their record on a country's scroll — the kindly, constant, nameless Pioneers ! " DISTANT hills are always green," and the best gold further on. That is a law of nature — human nature — which is quite superior to facts ; and thus the world moves on. So from the Lydenburg Goldfields prospectors ' humping their swags ' or driving their small pack-donkeys spread afield, and transport-riders with their long spans and rumbling waggons followed, cutting a wider track where traders with winding strings of carriers had already ventured on. But the hunters had gone first. There were great hunters whose names are known ; and others as great who missed the accident of fame ; and after them hunters who traded, and traders who hunted. And so too with prospectors, diggers, transport-riders and all. Between the goldfields and the nearest port lay the Bushveld, and game enough for all to live on. Thus, all were hunters of a sort, but the great hunters — the hunters of big game — were apart ; we were the smaller fry, there to admire and to imitate. Trophies, carried back with pride or by force of habit, lay scattered H about, neglected and forgotten, round the outspans, the tents of lone prospectors, the cabins of the diggers, and the grass wayside shanties of the traders. How many a ' record ' head must have gone then, when none had thought of time or means to save them ! Horns and skins lay in jumbled heaps in the yards or sheds of the big trading stores. The splendid horns of the Koodoo and Sable, and a score of others only less beautiful, could be seen nailed up in crude adornment of the roughest walls ; nailed up, and then unnoticed and forgotten ! And yet not quite ! For although to the older hands they were of no further interest, to the newcomer they spoke of something yet to see, and something to be done ; and the sight set him dreaming of the time when he too would go a-hunting and bring his trophies home. Perched on the edge of the Berg, we overlooked the wonder-world of the Bushveld, where the big game roamed in thousands and the " wildest tales were true." Living on the fringe of a hunter's paradise, most of us were drawn into it from time to time, for shorter or longer spells, as opportunity and our circumstances allowed ; and little by little one got to know the names, appearances, and habits of the many kinds of game below. Long talks in the quiet nights up there under waggons, in grass shelters in the woods, or in the wattle-and-daub shanties of the diggers, where men passed to and fro and swapped lies, as the polite phrase went, were our * night's entertainments,' when younger hands might learn much that was useful and true, and more that was neither. 15 It was a school of grown-up schoolboys ; no doubt a hard one, but it had its playground side, and it was the habit of the school to ' drop on to ' any breach of the unwritten laws, to * rub in ' with remorseless good humour the mistakes that were made, and to play upon credulity with a shamelessness and nerve quite paralysing to the judgment of the inexperienced. Yet, with it all, there was a kindliness and quick instinct of ' fair doos ' which tempered the wind and, in the main, gave no one more than was good for him. There the new boy had to run the gauntlet, and, if without a watchful instinct or a friendly hint, there was nothing to warn him of it. When Faulkner- dragged to the piano — protested that he remembered nothing but a mere l morceau,' he was not conscious of transgression, but a delighted audience caught up the word, and thenceforth he was known only as * Ankore ' — Harry the Sailor having explained that * more so ' was a recognised variant. ' Johnny-come-lately's got to learn " was held to be adequate reason for letting many a beginner buy his experience, while those who had been through it all watched him stumble into the well-known pit- falls. It would no doubt have been a much more com- fortable arrangement all round had there been a polite ignoring of each other's blunders and absurdities. But that is not the way of schools where the spirit of fun plays its useful part ; and, after all, the lesson well * rubbed in ' is well remembered. The new assayer, primed by us with tales of Sable Antelope round Macmac Camp, shot old Jim Hill's 16 only goat, and had to leave the carcase with a note of explanation — Jim being out when he called. What he heard from us when he returned, all prickly with remorse and shame, was a liberal education ; but what he remembers best is Jim's note addressed that evening to our camp : " Boys ! Jim Hill requests your company to dinner to-morrow, Sunday ! " " Mutton ! " As the summer spent itself, and whispers spread around of new strikes further on, a spirit of restlessness — a touch of trek fever — came upon us, and each cast about which way to try his luck. Our camp was the summer headquarters of two transport-riders, and when many months of hard work, timber-cutting on the Berg, contracting for the Companies, pole- slipping in the bush, and other things, gave us at last a * rise,' it seemed the natural thing to put it all into waggons and oxen, and go transport-riding too. The charm of a life of freedom and complete in- dependence— a life in which a man goes as and where he lists, and carries his home with him — is great indeed ; but great too was the fact that hunting would go with it. How the little things that mark a new departure stamp themselves indelibly on the memory ! A flower in the hedgerow where the roads divide will mark the spot in one's mind for ever ; and yet a million more, before and after, and all as beautiful, are passed unseen. In memory, it is all as fresh, bright and glorious as ever : only the years have gone. The 17 B start, the trek along the plateau, the crystal streams, the ferns and trees, the cool pure air ; and, through and over all, the quite intoxicating sense of freedom ! I" Then came the long slow climb to Spitzkop where the Berg is highest and where our descent began. For there, with Africa's contrariness, the highest parts banked up and buttressed by gigantic spurs are most accessible from below, while the lower edges of the plateau are cut off sheer like the walls of some great fortress. There, near Spitzkop, we looked down upon the promised land ; there, stood upon the outmost edge, as a diver on his board, and paused and looked and breathed before we took the plunge. It is well to pitch one's expectations low, and so stave off disappointments. But counsels of perfection are wasted on the young, and when accident combines with the hopefulness of youth to lay the colours on in all their gorgeousness, what chance has Wisdom ? " See here, young feller ! " said Wisdom, " don't go fill yourself up with tomfool notions 'bout lions and tigers waitin* behind every bush. You won't see one in a twelvemonth ! Most like you won't see a buck for a week ! You don't know what to do, what to wear, how to walk, how to look, or what to look for ; and you'll make as much noise as a traction engine. This ain't open country : it's bush ; they can see and hear, and you can't. An' as for big game, you won't see any for a long while yet, so don't go fool yourself ! " Excellent ! But fortune in a sportive mood or- dained that the very first thing we saw as we out- 18 spanned at Saunderson's on the very first day in the Bushveld, was the fresh skin of a lion stretched out to dry. What would the counsels of Solomon himself have weighed against that wet skin ? Wisdom scratched its head and stared : " Well, I am com — pletely sugared ! " Of course it was a fluke. No lions had been seen in the locality for several years ; but the beginner, filled with all the wildest expectations, took no heed of that. If the wish be father to the thought, then surely fact may well beget conviction. It was so in this case, at any rate, and thus not all the cold assurances of Wisdom could banish visions of big game as plentiful as partridges. A party had set out upon a tiger hunt to clear out one of those marauders who used to haunt the kloofs of the Berg and make descents upon the Kaffir herds of goats and sheep ; but there was a special interest in this particular tiger, for he had killed one of the white hunters in the last attempt to get at him a few weeks before. Starting from the store, the party of men and boys worked their way towards the kloof, and the possibility of coming across a lion never entered their heads. No notice was take*h of smaller game put up from time to time as they moved care- lessly along ; a rustle on the left of the line was ignored, and Bill Saunderson was as surprised as Bill ever could be to see a lion facing him at something like six or seven yards. ,.f^ The lion, with head laid level and tail ^^^ flicking ominously, half crouched /&J*. ~ YT for its spring. Bill's 19 bullet glanced along the skull, peeling off the skin. " It was a bad shot," he said afterwards, in answer to the beginner's breathless questions. " He wasn't hurt : just sank a little like a pointer when you check him ; but before he steadied up again I took for the nose and got him. You see," he added thoughtfully, " a lion's got no forehead : it is all hair." That was about all he had to say ; but, little store as he may have set on it, the tip was never forgotten and proved of much value to at least one of our party years afterwards. To this day the picture of a lion brings up that scene — the crouching beast, faced by a man with a long brown beard, solemn face, and clear un- faltering eyes ; the swift yet quiet action of reloading ; and the second shot an inch or so lower, because " a lion's got no forehead : it's all hair." The shooting of a lion, fair and square, and face to face, was the Blue Riband of the Bush, and no detail would have seemed superfluous ; but Bill, whose eye nothing could escape, had, like many great hunters, a laggard tongue. Only now and then a look of grave amusement lighted up his face to show he recognised the hungry enthusiasm and his own inability to satisfy it. The skin with the grazed stripe along the nose, and the broken skull, were handled and looked at many times, and the story was pumped from every Kaffir — all voluble and eager, but none eye-witnesses. Bob, the sociable and more communicative, who had been nearest his brother, was asked a hundred questions, but all he had to say was that the grass was too long for him to see what 20 happened : he reckoned that it was " a pretty near thing after the first shot ; but Bill's all right ! " To me it was an absurd and tiresome affectation . to show interest in any other topic, and when, during , that evening, conversation strayed to other subjects, it seemed waste of time and priceless opportunity. Bob responded good-naturedly to many crude attempts to head them back to the entrancing theme, but the professional interest in rates, loads, rivers, roads, disease, drought, and * fly,' was strong in the older transport-riders, as it should have been, but, for the time at least, was not, in me. If diplomacy failed, however, luck was not all out ; for when all the pet subjects of the road had been thrashed out, and it was about time to turn in, a stray question brought the reward of patience. " Have you heard if Jim reached Durban all right ? " " Yes ! Safely shipped." " You got some one to take him right through ? " " No ! A Dutchman took him to Lydenburg, and I got Tom Hardy, going back empty, to take him along from there." " What about feeding ? " " I sent some goats," said Bob, smiling for a moment at some passing thought, and then went on : " Tom said he had an old span that wouldn't mind it. We loaded him up at Parker's, and I cleared out before he got the cattle up. But they tell me there was a ^ gay jamboree when it came to inspanning ; and _-,. a long time it remained tacked on to the coop with " Pezulu " written on it. Pezulu the Great — who was Pezulu the Second — was not like that : he was a game cock, all muscle and no frills, with a very resolute manner and a rea] love of his profession ; he was a bit like Jock in some things ; and that is why I fancy perhaps Jock and he were friends in a kind of way. But Jock could not get on with the others : they were constantly chang- ing ; new ones who had to be taught manners were always coming ; so he just lumped them together, and hated fowls. He taught them manners, but they taught him something too — at any rate, one of them did ; and one of the biggest surprises and best lessons Jock ever had was given him by a hen while he was still a growing-up puppy. He was beginning to fancy that he knew a good deal, and like most young dogs was very inquisitive and wanted to know everything and at once. At that time he was very keen on hunting mice, rats and bush squirrels, and had even fought and killed a meerkat after the plucky little rikkitikki had bitten him rather badly through the lip ; and he was still much inclined to poke his nose in or rush on to things instead of sniffing round about first. However, he learned to be careful, and an old hen helped to teach him. The hens usually laid their eggs in the coop because it was their home, but some- times they would make nests in the bush at the outspan places. One of the hens had done this, and the bush she had chosen was very low and dense. No one saw 97 G the hen make the nest and no one saw her sitting on it, for the sunshine was so bright everywhere else, and the shade of the bush so dark that it was impossible to see anything there ; but while we were at breakfast Jock, who was bustling about everywhere as a puppy will, must have scented the hen or have seen this brown thing in the dark shady hole. The hen was sitting with her head sunk right down into her chest, so that he could not see any head, eyes or beak — just a sort of brown lump. Suddenly we saw Jock stand stock-still, cock up one ear, put his head down and his nose out, hump up his shoulders a bit and begin to walk very slowly forward in a crouch- ing attitude. He lifted his feet so slowly and so softly that you could count five between each step. We were all greatly amused and thought he was pointing a mouse or a locust, and we watched him. He crept up like a boy ' showing off ' until he was only six inches from the object, giving occasional cautious glances back at us to attract attention. Just as he got to the hole the hen let out a vicious peck on the top of his nose and at the same time flapped over his head, screaming and cackling for dear life. It was all so sudden and so surprising that she was gone before he could think of making a grab at her ; and when he heard our shouts of laughter he looked as foolish as if he understood all about it. JOCK'S first experience in hunting was on the Crocodile River not far from the spot where long afterwards we had the great fight with The Old Croco- dile. In the summer when the heavy rains flood the country the river runs ' bank high,' hiding everything — reeds, rocks, islands, and stunted trees — in some places ' silent and oily like a huge gorged snake, in others foaming and turbulent as an angry monster. In the rainless winter when the water is low and clear the scene is not so grand, but is quiet, peaceful, and much more beautiful. There is an infinite variety in it then — the river sometimes winding along in one deep channel, but more often forking out into two or three streams in the broad bed. The loops and lacings of the divided water carve out islands and spaces of all shapes and sizes, banks of clean white sand or of firm damp mud swirled up by the floods, on which tall green reeds with yellow tasselled tops shoot up like crops of Kaffir corn. Looked down upon from -the flood banks the silver streaks of water gleam brightly in the sun, and the graceful reeds, bowing and swaying 99 slowly with the gentlest breeze and alternately show- f^W&ggsT ing their leaf-sheathed stems and crested tops, give /_^£7i&^fa the appearance of an ever-changing sea of green and gold. Here and there a big rock, black and polished, '••AiVSSflTOOSl stands boldly out, and the sea of reeds laps round it like the waters of a lake on a bright still day. When there is no breeze the rustle of the reeds is hushed, and the only constant sound is the ever-varying voice of the water, lapping, gurgling, chattering, murmur- ing, as it works its way along the rocky channels ; some- times near and loud, sometimes faint and distant ; and sometimes, over long sandy reaches, there is no sound at all. Get up on some vantage point upon the high bank and look down there one day in the winter of the tropics as the heat and hush of noon approach, and it will seem indeed a scene of peace and beauty — a place to rest and dream, where there is neither stir nor sound. Then, as you sit silently watching and thinking, where all the world is so infinitely still, you will notice that one reed down among all those countless thousands is moving. It bows slowly and gracefully a certain distance, and then with a quivering shuddering motion straightens itself still more slowly and with evident difficulty, until at last it stands up- right again like the rest but still all a-quiver while they do not move a leaf. Just as you are beginning to wonder what the reason is, the reed bows slowly again, and again struggles back ; and so it goes on as regularly as the swing of a pendulum. Then you know that, down at the roots where you cannot see it, the water is flowing silently, and that something 100 attached to this reed is dragging in the stream and pulling it over, and swinging back to do it again each time the reed lifts it free — a perpetual see- saw. You are glad to find the reason, because it looked a little uncanny ; but the behaviour of that one reed has stopped your dreaming and made you look about more carefully. Then you find that, although the reeds appear as still as the rocks, there is hardly a spot where, if you watch for a few minutes, you will not see something moving. A tiny field-mouse climbing one reed will sway it over ; a river rat gnawing at the roots will make it shiver and rustle ; little birds hopping from one to another will puzzle you ; and a lagavaan turning in his sunbath will make half a dozen sway outwards. All feeling that it is a home of peace, a place to rest and dream, leaves you ; you are wondering what goes on down below the green and gold where you can see nothing ; and when your eye catches a bigger, slower, continuous movement in another place, and for twenty yards from the bank to the stream you see the tops of the reeds silently and gently parting and closing again as something down below works its way along without the faintest sound, the place seems too quiet, too uncanny and mysterious, too silent, stealthy and treacherous for you to sit still in comfort : you must get up and do something. There is always good shooting along the rivers in a country where water is scarce. Partridges, bush- pheasants and stembuck were plentiful along the banks and among the thorns, but the reeds themselves 101 were the home of thousands of guinea-fowl, and you could also count on duiker and rietbuck as almost a certainty there. If this were all, it would be like shooting in a well-stocked cover, but it is not only man that is on the watch for game at the drinking- places. The beasts of prey — lions, tigers, hyenas, wild dogs and jackals, and lastly pythons and croco- diles— know that the game must come to water, and they lie in wait near the tracks or the drinking-places. That is what makes the mystery and charm of the reeds ; you never know what you will put up. The lions and tigers had deserted the country near the main drifts and followed the big game into more peaceful parts ; but the reeds were still the favourite shelter and resting-place of the crocodiles ; and there were any number of them left. There is nothing that one comes across in hunting more horrible and loathsome than the crocodile : nothing that rouses the feeling of horror and hatred as it does : nothing that so surely and quickly gives the sensation of 1 creeps in the back ' as the noiseless apparition of one in the water just where you least expected anything, or the discovery of one silently and intently watching you with its head resting flat on a sand-spit — the thing you had seen half a dozen times before and mistaken for a small rock. Many things are hunted in the Bushveld ; but only the crocodile is hated. There is always the feeling of horror that this hideous, cowardly, cruel thing — the enemy of man and beast alike — with its look of a cunning smile in the greeny glassy eyes and great wide mouth, will mercilessly drag you down I Ml i I02 m — down — down to the bottom of some deep still pool, and hold you there till you drown. Utterly helpless yourself to escape or fight, you cannot even call, and if you could, no one could help you there. It is all done in silence : a few bubbles come up where a man went down ; and that is the end of it. We all knew about the crocodiles and were pre- pared for them, but the sport was good, and when you are fresh at the game and get interested in a hunt it is not very easy to remember all the things you have been warned about and the precautions you were told to take. It was on the first day at the river that one of our party, who was not a very old hand at hunting, came in wet and muddy and told us how a crocodile had scared the wits out of him. He had gone out after guinea-fowl, he said, but as he had no dog to send in and flush them, the birds simply played with him : they would not rise but kept running in the reeds a little way in front of him, just out of sight. He could hear them quite distinctly, and thinking to steal a march on them took off his boots and got on to the rocks. Stepping bare-footed from rock to rock where the reeds were thin, he made no noise at all and got so close up that he could hear the little whispered chink-chink-chink that they give when near danger. The only chance of getting a shot at them was to mount one of the big rocks from which he could see down into the reeds ; and he worked his way along a mud-bank towards one. A couple more steps from the mud-bank on to a low black rock would take him to the big one. Without taking his eyes off 103 the reeds where the guinea-fowl were he stepped cautiously on to the low black rock, and in an instant was swept off his feet, tossed and tumbled over and over, into the mud and reeds, and there was a noise of furious rushing and crashing as if a troop of elephants were stampeding through the reeds. He had stepped on the back of a sleeping crocodile ; no doubt it was every bit as frightened as he was. There was much laughter over this and the breathless earnestness with which he told the story ; but there was also a good deal of chaff, for it seems to be generally accepted that you are not bound to believe all hunting stories ; and Jim and his circus crocodile became the joke of the camp. We were spending a couple of days on the river bank to make the most of the good water and grazing, and all through the day some one or other would be out pottering about among the reeds, gun in hand, to keep the pot full and have some fun, and although we laughed and chaffed about Jim's experience, I fancy we were all very much on the look-out for rocks that looked like crocs and crocs that looked like rocks. One of the most difficult lessons that a beginner has to learn is to keep cool. The keener you are the more likely you are to get excited and the more bitterly you feel the disappointments ; and once you lose your head, there is no mistake too stupid for you to make, and the result is another good chance spoilt. The great silent bush is so lonely ; the strain of being on the look-out all the time is so great ; the un- certainty as to what may start up — anything from 104 CIRCUS CROCODILE a partridge to a lion — is so trying that the beginner is wound up like an alarum clock and goes off at the first touch. He is not fit to hit a haystack at twenty yards ; will fire without looking or aiming at all ; jerk the rifle as he fires ; forget to change the sight after the last shot ; forget to cock his gun or move the safety catch ; forget to load ; forget to fire at all : nothing is impossible — nothing too silly. On a later trip we had with us a man who was out for the first time, and when we came upon a troop of koodoo he started yelling, war-whooping and swear- ing at them, chasing them on foot and waving his rifle over his head. When we asked him why he, who was nearest to them, had not fired a shot, all he could say was that he never remembered his rifle or anything else until they were gone. These experiences had been mine, some of them many times, in spite of Rocky's example and advice ; and they were always followed by a fresh stock of good resolutions. I had started out this day with the same old deter- mination to keep cool, but, once into the reeds, Jim's account of how he had stepped on the crocodile put all other thoughts out of my mind, and most of my attention was given to examining suspicious-looking rocks as we stole silently and quietly along. Jock was with me, as usual ; I always took him out even then — not for hunting, because he was too young, but in order to train him. He was still only a puppy, about six months old, as well as I remember, and had never tackled or even followed a wounded buck, so 105 that it was impossible to say what he would do ; he had seen me shoot a couple and had wanted to worry them as they fell ; but that was all. He was quite ^obedient and kept his place behind me ; and, although he trembled with excitement when he saw or heard anything, he never rushed in or moved ahead of me without permission. The guinea-fowl tormented him that day ; he could scent and hear them, and was constantly making little runs forward, half crouching and with his nose back and tail dead level and his one ear full-cocked and the other half-up. For about half an hour we went on in this way. There was plenty of fresh duiker spoor to show us that we were in a likely place, one spoor in particular being so fresh in the mud that it seemed only a few minutes old. We were following this one very eagerly but very cautiously, and evidently Jock agreed with me that the duiker must be near, for he took no more notice of the guinea-fowl ; and I for my part forgot all about crocodiles and suspicious- looking rocks ; there was at that moment only one thing in the world for me, and that was the duiker. We crept along noiselessly in and out of the reeds, round rocks and mudholes, across small stretches of firm mud or soft sand, so silently that nothing could have heard us, and finally we came to a very big rock, with the duiker spoor fresher than ever going close round it down stream. The rock was a long sloping one, polished smooth by the floods and very slippery to walk on. I climbed it in dead silence, peering down into the reeds and expecting every moment to see the duiker. 1 06 The slope up which, we crept was long and easy, but that on the down-stream side was much steeper. I crawled up to the top on hands and knees, and raising myself slowly, looked carefully about, but no duiker could be seen ; yet Jock was sniffing and trembling more than ever, and it was quite clear that he thought we were very close up. Seeing nothing in front or on either side, I stood right up and turned to look back the way we had come' and examine the reeds on that side. In doing so a few grains of grit crunched under my foot, and instantly there was a rush in the reeds behind me ; I jumped round to face it, believing that the crocodile was grabbing at me from behind, and on the polished surface of the rock my feet slipped and shot from under me, both bare elbows bumped hard on the rock, jerking the rifle out of my hands ; and I was launched like a torpedo right into the mass of swaying reeds. When you think you are tumbling on to a crocodile there is only one thing you want to do — get out as soon as possible. How long it took to reach the top of the rock again, goodness only knows ! It seemed like a life-time ; but the fact is I was out of those reeds and up that rock in time to see the duiker as it broke out of the reeds, raced up the bank, and disappeared into the bush with Jock tearing after it as hard as ever he could go. One call stopped him, and he came back to me looking very crestfallen and guilty, no doubt think- ing that he had behaved badly and disgraced himself. But he was not to blame at all;, 107 he had known all along that the duiker was there — having had no distracting fancies about crocodiles — and when he saw it dash off and his master instantly jump in after it, he must have thought that the hunt had at last begun and that he was expected to help. After all that row and excitement there was not much use in trying for anything more in the reeds— and indeed I had had quite enough of them for one afternoon ; so we wandered along the upper banks in the hope of finding something where there were no crocodiles, and it was not long before we were interested in something else and able to forget all about the duiker. Before we had been walking many minutes, Jock raised his head and ears and then lowered himself into a half-crouching attitude and made a little run forward. I looked promptly in the direction he was pointing and about two hundred yards away saw a stembuck standing in the shade of a mimosa bush feeding briskly on the buffalo grass. It was so small and in such bad light that the shot was too difficult for me at that distance, and I crawled along behind bushes, ant-heaps and trees until we were close enough for anything. The ground was soft and sandy, and we could get along easily enough without making any noise ; but all the time, whilst thinking how lucky it was to be on ground so soft for the hands and knees, and so easy to move on without being heard, something else was happening. With eyes fixed on the buck I did not notice that in crawling along on all-fours, 108 the muzzle of the rifle dipped regularly into the sand, picking up a little in the barrel each time. There was not enough to burst the rifle, but the effect was surpris- ing. Following on a painfully careful aim, there was a deafening report that made my head reel and buzz ; the kick of the rifle on the shoulder and cheek left me blue for days ; and when my eyes were clear enough to see anything the stembuck had disappeared. I was too disgusted to move, and sat in the sand rubbing my shoulder and thanking my stars that the rifle had not burst. There was plenty to think about, to be sure, and no hurry to do anything else, for the noise of the shot must have startled every living thing for a mile round. It is not always easy to tell the direction from which a report comes when you are near a river or in broken country or patchy bush ; and it is not an uncommon thing to find that a shot which has frightened one animal away from you has startled another and driven it towards you ; and that is what happened in this case. As I sat in the shade of the thorns with the loaded rifle across my knees there was the faint sound of a buck cantering along in the sand ; I looked up ; and only about twenty yards from me a duiker came to a stop, half fronting me. There it stood looking back over its shoulder and listening intently, evidently thinking that the danger lay behind it. It was hardly possible to miss that ; and as the duiker rolled over, I dropped my rifle and ran to make sure of it. Of course, it was dead against the rules to leave the rifle behind ; but it was simply a case of excitement 109 agan : when the buck rolled over everything else was forgotten ! I knew the rule perfectly well — Reload at once and never part with your gun. It was one of Rocky's lessons, and only a few weeks before this, when out for an afternoon's shooting with an old hunter, the lesson had been repeated. The old man shot a rietbuck ram, and as it had been facing us and dropped without a kick we both thought that it was shot through the brain. There was no mark on the head, however, and although we examined it carefully, we failed to find the bullet-mark or a trace of blood ; so we put our rifles down to settle the question by skinning the buck. After sawing at the neck for half a minute, however, the old man found his knife too blunt to make an opening, and we both hunted about for a stone to sharpen it on, and while we were fossicking about in the grass there was a noise behind, and looking sharply round we saw the buck scramble to its feet and scamper off before we had time to move. The bullet must have touched one of its horns and stunned it. My companion was too old a hunter to get excited, and while I ran for the rifles and wanted to chase the buck on foot he stood quite still, gently rubbing the knife on the stone he had picked up. Looking at me under bushy eye- brows and smiling philosophically, he said : ' That's something for you to remember, Boy. It's my belief if you lived for ever there'd always be something to learn at this game." Unfortunately I did not remember when it would have been useful. As I ran forward the duiker no tumbled, struggled and rolled over and over, then got up and made a dash, only to dive head fore- most into the sand and somersault over ; but in a second it was up again and racing off, again to trip and plunge forward on to its chest with its nose out- stretched sliding along the soft ground. The bullet had struck it in the shoulder, and the broken leg was tripping it and bringing it down ; but, in far less time than it takes to tell it, the little fellow found out what was wrong, and scrambling once more to its feet was off on three legs at a pace that left me far behind. Jock, remembering the mistake in the reeds, kept his place behind, and I in the excitement of the moment neither saw nor thought of him until the duiker, gaining at every jump, looked like vanishing for ever. Then I remembered and, with a frantic wave of my hand, shouted, " After him, Jock." He was gone before my hand was down, and faster than I had ever seen him move, leaving me ploughing through the heavy sand far behind. Past the big bush I saw them again, and there the duiker did as wounded game so often do : taking advantage of cover it changed direction and turned away for some dense thorns. But that suited Jock exactly ; he took the short cut across to head it off and was close up in a few more strides. He caught up to it, raced up beside it, and made a jump at its throat ; but the duiker darted away in a fresh direction, leaving him yards behind. Again he was after it and tried the other side ; but the buck was too quick, and again he missed and overshot the mark in his jump. He was in such in deadly earnest he seemed to turn in the air to get back again and once more was close up — so close that the flying heels of the buck seemed to pass each side of his ears ; then he made his spring from behind, catching the duiker high up on one hind leg, and the two rolled over together, kicking and struggling in a cloud of dust. Time after time the duiker got on its feet, trying to get at him with its horns or to break away again ; but Jock, although swung off his feet and rolled on, did not let go his grip. In grim silence he hung on while the duiker plunged, and, when it fell, tugged and worried as if to shake the life out of it. What with the hot sun, the heavy sand, and the pace at which we had gone, I was so pumped that I finished the last hundred yards at a walk, and had plenty of time to see what was going on ; but even when I got up to them the struggle was so fierce and the movements so quick that for some time it was not possible to get hold of the duiker to finish it off. At last came one particularly bad fall, when the buck rolled over on its back, and then Jock let go his grip and made a dash for its throat ; but again the duiker was too quick for him ; with one twist it was up and round facing him on its one knee, and dug, thrust, and swept with its black spiky horns so vigorously that it was impossible to get at its neck. As Jock rushed in the head ducked and the horns flashed round so swiftly that it seemed as if nothing could save him from being stabbed through and through, but his quickness and cleverness were a revelation to me. 112 If he could not catch the duiker, it could not catch him : they were in a way too quick for each other, and they were a long way too quick for me. Time after time I tried to get in close enough to grab one of the buck's hind legs, but it was not to be caught. While Jock was at it fast and furious in front, I tried to creep up quietly behind — but it was no use : the duiker kept facing Jock with horns down, and when- ever I moved it swung round and kept me in front also. Finally I tried a run straight in ; and then it made another dash for liberty. On three legs, how- ever, it had no chance, and in another minute Jock had it again, and down they came together, rolling over and over once more. The duiker struggled hard, but he hung on, and each time it got its feet to the ground to rise he would tug sideways and roll it over again, until I got up to them, and catching the buck by the head, held it down with my knee on its neck and my Bushman's Friend in hand to finish it. There was, however, still another lesson for us both to learn that day ; neither of us knew what a buck can do with its hind feet when it is down. The duiker was flat on its side ; Jock, thinking the was over, had let go ; and, before I could move, the supple body doubled up, and the feet whizzed viciously at me right over its head. The little pointed cloven feet are as hard and sharp as horns and will tear the flesh like claws. By good luck the kick only grazed my arm, but although the touch was the lightest 113 H it cut the skin and little beads of blood shot up marking the line like the scratch of a thorn. Missing my arm the hoof struck full on the handle of the Bushman's Friend and sent it flying yards out of reach. And it was not merely one kick : faster than the eye could follow them the little feet whizzed and the legs seemed to buzz round like the spokes of a wheel. Holding the horns at arm's length in order to dodge the kicks, I tried to pull the duiker towards the knife ; but it was too much for me, and with a sudden twist and a wrench freed itself and was off again. All the time Jock was moving round and round panting and licking his chops, stepping in and stepping back, giving anxious little whimpers, and longing to be at it again, but not daring to join in without permission. When the duiker broke away, however, he waited for nothing, and was on to it in one spring — again from behind ; and this time he let go as it fell, and jumping free of it, had it by the throat before it could rise. I ran to them again, but the picking up of the knife had delayed me and I was not in time to save Jock the same lesson that the duiker had just taught me. Down on its side, with Jock's jaws locked in its throat, once more the duiker doubled up and used its feet. The first kick went over his head and scraped harm- lessly along his back ; but the second caught him at the point of the shoulder, and the razor-like toe ripped his side right to the hip. Then the dog showed his pluck and cleverness. His side was cut open as if it had been slashed by a knife, but he never flinched 114 or loosened his grip for a second ; he seemed to go at it more furiously than ever, but more cleverly and warily. He swung his body round clear of the whiz- zing feet, watching them with his little beady eyes fixed sideways and the gleaming whites showing in the corners ; he tugged away incessantly and vigor- ously, keeping the buck's neck stretched out and pulling it round in a circle backwards so that it could not possibly double its body up enough to kick him again ; and before I could catch the feet to help him, the kicks grew weaker ; the buck slackened out, and Jock had won. The sun was hot, the sand was deep, and the rifle was hard to find ; it was a long way back to the waggons, and the duiker made a heavy load ; but the end of that first chase seemed so good that nothing else mattered. The only thing I did mind was the open cut on Jock's side ; but he minded nothing : his tail was going like a telegraph needle ; he was panting with his mouth open from ear to ear, and his red tongue hanging out and making great slapping licks at his chops from time to time ; he was not still for a second, but kept walking in and stepping back in a circle round the duiker, and looking up at me and then down at it, as if he was not at all sure that there might not be some fresh game on, and was consult- ing me as to whether it would not be a good thing to have another go in and «n make it all safe. He was just as happy as a dog could be, and perhaps he was proud of the wound that left a straight line from his shoulder to his hip and showed up like a cord under the golden brindle as long as he lived — a memento of his first real hunt. WHEN the hen pecked Jock on the nose, she gave him a useful lesson in the art of finding out what you want to know without getting into trouble. As he got older, he also learned that there are only certain things which concerned him and which it was necessary for him to know. A young dog begins by thinking that he can do everything, go everywhere, and know everything ; and a hunting dog has to learn to mind his own business, as well as to understand it. Some dogs turn sulky or timid or stupid when they are checked, but an intelligent dog with a stout heart will learn little by little to leave other things alone, and grow steadily keener on his own work. There was no mistake about Jock's keenness. When I took down the rifle from the waggon he did not go off into ecstasies of barking, as most sporting dogs will do, but would give a quick look up and with an eager little 117 run towards me give a whimper of joy, make two or three bounds as if wanting to stretch his muscles and loosen his joints, then shake himself vigorously as though he had just come out of the water, and with a soft suppressed " Woo-woo-woo " full of content- ment, drop silently into his place at my heels and give his whole attention to his work. He was the best of companions, and through the years that we hunted together I never tired of watch- ing him. There was always something to learn, something to admire, something to be grateful for, and very often something to laugh at — in the way in which we laugh only at those whom we are fond of. It was the struggle between Jock's intense keenness and his sense of duty that most often raised the laugh. He knew that his place was behind me ; but probably he also knew that nine times out of ten he scented or saw the game long before I knew there was anything near, and naturally wanted to be in front or at least abreast of me to show me whatever there was to be seen. He noticed, just as surely and as quickly as any human being could, any change in my manner : nothing escaped him, for his eyes and ears were on the move the whole time. It was impossible for me to look for more than a few seconds in any one direction, or to stop or even to turn my head to listen, without being caught by him. His bright brown eyes were ever- lastingly on the watch and on the move : from me to the bush, from the bush back to me. When we were after game, and he could scent or see it, he would 118 keep a foot or two to the side of me so as to have a clear view ; and when he knew by my manner that I thought there was game near, he kept so close up that he would often bump against my heels as I walked, or run right into my legs if I stopped suddenly. Often when stalking buck very quietly and cautiously, thinking only of what was in front, I would get quite a start by feeling something bump up against me behind. At these times it was impossible to say anything without risk of scaring the game, and I got into the habit of making signs with my hand which he under- stood quite as well. Sometimes after having crawled up I would be in the act of aiming when he would press up against me. Nothing puts one off so much as a touch or the ex- pectation of being jogged when in the act of firing, and I used to get angry with him then, but dared not breathe a word ; I would lower my head slowly, turn round, and give him a look. He knew quite well what it meant. Down would go his ears instantly, and he would back away from me a couple of steps, drop his stump of a tail and wag it in a feeble deprecating way, and open his mouth into a sort of foolish laugh. That was his apology ! " I beg your pardon : it was an accident ! I won't do it again." It was quite impossible to be angry with him, he was so keen and he meant so well ; and when he saw me laughing softly at him, he would come up again close to me, cock his tail a few inches higher and wag it a bit faster. There is a deal of expression in a dog's tail : 119 it will generally tell you what his feelings are. My friend maintained that that was how he knew his old dog was enjoying the joke against the cockerel ; and that is certainly how I knew what Jock was thinking about once when lost in the veld ; and it showed me the way back. It is easy enough to lose oneself in the Bushveld. The Berg stands up some thousands of feet inland on the west, looking as if it had been put there to hold up the Highveld ; and between the foothills and the sea lies the Bushveld, stretching for hundreds of miles north and south. From the height and distance of the Berg it looks as flat as the floor, but in many parts it is very much cut up by deep rough dongas, sharp rises and depressions, and numbers of small kopjes. Still, it has a way of looking flat, because the hills are small, and very much alike ; and because hill and hollow are covered and hidden mile after mile by small trees of a wonderful sameness, just near enough together to prevent you from seeing more than a few hundred yards at a time. Most people see no differences in sheep : many believe that all Chinamen are exactly alike ; and so it is with the Bushveld : you have to know it first. So far I had never lost my way out hunting. The experiences of other men and the warnings from the old hands had made me very careful. We were always hearing of men being lost through leaving the road and following up the game while they were excited, without noticing which way they went and how long they had been going. There were no beaten tracks 120 and very few landmarks, so that even experienced hunters went astray sometimes for a few hours or a^ day or two when the mists or heavy rains came on and nothing could be seen beyond fifty or a hundred yards. Nearly every one who goes hunting in the Bush- veld gets lost some time or other — generally in the beginning before he has learned to notice things. Some have been lost for many days until they blundered on to a track by accident or were found by a search- party ; others have been lost and, finding no water or food, have died ; others have been killed by lions, and only a boot or a coat — or, as it happened in one case that I know of, a ring found inside a lion — told what had occurred ; others have been lost and nothing more ever heard of them. There is no feeling quite like that of being lost — helplessness, terror, and despair ! The horror of it is so great that every beginner has it before him ; every one has heard of it, thought of it, and dreamed of it, and every one feels it holding him to the beaten track, as the fear of drowning keeps those who cannot swim to shallow water. That is just in the beginning. Presently, when little excursions, each bolder than the previous, have ended without accident, the fear grows less and confidence develops. Then it is, as a rule, that the accident comes and the lesson is learned, if you are lucky enough to pull through. When the camp is away in the trackless bush, it needs a good man _^^^^_ always to find the way home iSr^^niS -/-•, after a 121 couple of hours* chase with all its twists and turns and doublings ; but when camp is made on a known road — a long main road that strikes a fair line between two points of the compass — it seems impossible for any one to be hopelessly lost. If the road runs east and west you, knowing on which side you left it, have only to walk north or south steadily and you must strike it again. The old hands told the beginners this, and we were glad to know that it was only a matter of walking for a few hours, more or less, and that in the end we were bound to find the road and strike some camp. "Yes," said the old hands, "it is simple enough here where you have a road running east and west ; there is only one rule to remember : When you have lost your way, don't lose your head." But indeed that is just the one rule that you are quite unable to observe. Many stories have been told of men being lost : many volumes could be filled with them for the trouble of writing down what any hunter will tell you. But no one who has not seen it can realise how the thing may happen ; no one would believe the effect that the terror of being lost, and the demoralisation which it causes, can have on a sane man's senses. If you want to know what a man can persuade himself to believe against the evidence of his senses — even when his very life depends upon his holding to the absolute truth — then you should see a man who is lost in the bush. He knows that he left the road on the north side ; he loses his bearings ; he does not know how long, how fast, or how far he has walked ; yet if he keep 122 his head he will make due south and must inevitably .. strike the road. After going for half an hour and| seeing nothing familiar, he begins to feel that he is going in the wrong direction ; something pulls at him to face right about. Only a few minutes more of this, and he feels sure that he must have crossed the road without noticing it, and therefore that he ought to be going north instead of south, if he hopes ever to strike it again. How, you will ask, can a man imagine it possible to cross a big dusty road twenty or thirty \ feet wide without seeing it ? The idea seems absurd ; yet they do really believe it. One of the first illusions that occurs to men when they lose their heads is that they have done this, and it is the cause of scores of cases of ' lost in the bush.' The idea that they may have done it is absurd enough ; but stranger still is the fact that they actually do it. If you cannot understand a man thinking he had done such a thing, what can you say of a man actually doing it ? Impossible, quite impossible, you think. Ah ! but it is a fact : many know it for a fact and I have witnessed it twice myself, once in Mashonaland and once on the Delagoa road. I saw men, tired, haggard and wild-eyed, staring far in front of them, never looking at the ground, pressing on, on, on, and actually cross well-worn waggon roads, coming from hard veld into a sandy wheel-worn track and kicking up a cloud of dust as they passed, and utterly blind to the fact that they were walking across the roads they had been searching for — in one case for ten hours? and in the other for three days. When we called toft 123 ^^4 them they had already crossed and were disap- pearing again into the bush. In both cases the sound of the human voice and the relief of being ' found,' made them collapse. The knees seemed to give way : they could not remain standing. The man who loses his head is really lost. He cannot think, remember, reason, or understand ; and the strangest thing of all is that he often cannot even see properly — he fails to see the very things that he most wants to see, even when they are as large as life before him. Crossing the road without seeing it is not the only or the most extraordinary example of this sort of thing. We were out hunting once in a mounted party, but to spare a tired horse I went on foot and took up my stand in a game run among some thorn trees on the low spur of a hill, while the others made a big circuit to head off a troop of koodoo. Among our party there was one who was very nervous : he had been lost once for six or eight hours, and being haunted by the dread of being lost again, his nerve was all gone and he would not go fifty yards without a companion. In the excitement of shooting at and galloping after the koodoo probably this dread was forgotten for a moment : he himself could not tell how it happened that he became separated, and no one else had noticed him. The strip of wood along the hills in which I was waiting was four or five miles long but only from one to three hundred yards wide, a mere fringe enclosing the little range of kopjes ; and between the stems of the trees I could see our camp and waggons in the open a quarter of a mile away. Ten or twelve shots faintly 124 heard in the distance told me that the others were on :, to the koodoo, and knowing the preference of those animals for the bush I took cover behind a big stump and waited. For over half an hour, however, nothing came towards me, and believing then that the game had broken off another way, I was about to return to camp when I heard the tapping of galloping feet a long way off. In a few minutes the hard thud and occa- sional ring on the ground told that it was not the koo- doo ; and soon afterwards I saw a man on horseback. He was leaning eagerly forward and thumping the exhausted horse with his rifle and his heels to keep up its staggering gallop. I looked about quickly to see what it was he was chasingTthat could have slipped past me unnoticed, but there was nothing ; then thinking there had been an accident and he was coming for help, I stepped out into the open and waited for him to come up. I stood quite still, and he galloped past within ten yards of me — so close that his muttered " Get on, you brute ; get on, get on ! " as he thumped away at his poor tired horse, were perfectly audible. " What's up, sportsman ? " I asked, no louder than you would say it across a tennis-court ; but the words brought him up, white-faced and terrified, and he half slid, half tumbled, off the horse gasping out, " I was lost, I was lost ! " How he had managed to keep within that strip of bush, without once getting into the open where he would have seen the line of kopjes to which I had told him to stick or could have seen the waggons and the smoke of the big camp-fire, he could never explain. I turned I25 -gs^s him round where he stood, and through the trees showed him the white tents of the waggons and the cattle grazing near by, but he was too dazed to understand or explain anything. There are many kinds of men. That particular kind is not the kind that will ever do for veld life : they are for other things and other work. You will laugh at them at times — when the absurdity is greatest and no harm has been done. But see it ! See it— and realise the suspense, the strain, and the terror ; and then even the funniest incident has another side to it. See it once ; and recall that the worst of endings have had just such beginnings. See it in the most absurd and farcical circumstances ever known ; and laugh — laugh your fill ; laugh at the victim and laugh with him, when it is over — and safe. But in the end will come the little chilling thought that the strongest, the bravest, and the best have known something of it too ; and that even to those whose courage holds to the last breath there may come a moment when the pulse beats a little faster and the judgment is at fault. Buggins who was with us in the first season was no hunter, but he was a good shot and not a bad fellow. In his case there was no tragedy ; there was much laughter and — to me — a wonderful revelation. He showed us, as in a play, how you can be lost ; how you can walk for ever in one little circle, as though drawn to a centre by magnetic force, and how you can miss seeing things in the bush if they do not move. We had outspanned in a flat covered with close grass about two feet high and shady flat-topped horn 126 trees. The waggons, four in number, were drawn up a few yards off the road, two abreast. The grass was sweet and plentiful ; the day was hot and still ; and as we had had a very long early morning trek there was not much inclination to move. The cattle soon filled themselves and lay down to sleep ; the boys did the same ; and we, when breakfast was over, got into the shade of the waggons, some to sleep and others to smoke. Buggins — that was his pet name — was a passenger returning to " England, Home, and Beauty " — that is to say, literally, to a comfortable home, admiring sisters and a rich indulgent father — after having sought his fortune unsuccessfully on the gold fields for fully four months. Buggins was good-natured, unselfish, and credulous ; but he had one fault — he * yapped ' : he talked until our heads buzzed. He used to sleep contentedly in a rumpled tarpaulin all through the night treks and come up fresh as a daisy and full of accumulated chat at the morning outspan, just when we — unless work or sport called for us — were wanting to get some sleep. We knew well enough what to expect, so after breakfast Jimmy, who understood Buggins well, told him pleasantly that he could " sleep, shoot, or shut up." To shut up was impossible, and to sleep again — without a rest — difficult, even for Buggins ; so with a good-natured laugh he took the shot gun, saying that he " would potter around a bit and give us a treat." Well, he did ! We had outspanned on the edge of an open space 127 in the thorn bush ; there are plenty of them to be found in the Bushveld — spaces a few hundred yards in diameter, like open park land, where not a single tree breaks the expanse of wavy yellow grass. The waggons with their greyish tents and buck sails and dusty wood-work stood in the fringe of the trees where this little arena touched the road, and into it sallied Buggins, gently drawn by the benevolent purpose of giving us a treat. What he hoped to find in the open on that sweltering day he only could tell ; we knew that no living thing but lizards would be out of the shade just then, but we wanted to find him employment harmless to him and us. He had been gone for more than half an hour when we heard a shot, and a few minutes later Jimmy's voice roused us. " What the dickens is Buggins doing ? " he asked in a tone so puzzled and interested that we all turned to watch that sportsman. According to Jimmy, he had been walking about in an erratic way for some time on the far side of the open ground — going from the one end to the other and then back again ; then dis- appearing for a few minutes in the bush and re-appear- ing to again manoeuvre in the open in loops and circles, angles and straight lines. Now he was walking about at a smart pace, looking from side to side apparently searching for something. We could see the whole of the arena as clearly as you can see a cricket-field from the railings — for our waggon formed part of the boundary — but we could see nothing to explain Buggins's manoeuvres. Next we saw him face the 128 thorns opposite, raise his gun very deliberately, and fire into the top of the trees. " Green pigeons," said Jimmy firmly ; and we all agreed that Buggins was after specimens for stuffing ; but either our guess was wrong or his aim was bad, for after standing dead still for a minute he resumed his vigorous walk. By this time Buggins fairly fascinated us ; even the kaffirs had roused each other and were watching him. Away he went at once off to our left, and there he repeated the performance, but, again made no attempt to pick up anything and showed no further interest in whatever it was he had fired at, but turned right about face and walked across the open ground in our direction until he was only a couple of hundred yards away. There he stopped and began to look about him and making off some few yards in another direction climbed on to a fair-sized ant-heap five or six feet high, and balancing himself cautiously on this he deliberately fired off both barrels in quick succession. Then the same idea struck us all together, and " Buggins is lost " came from several — all choking with laughter. Jimmy got up and, stepping out into the open beside the waggon, called, " Say, Buggins, what in thunder are you doing ? " To see Buggins slide off the ant-heap and shufHe shamefacedly back to the waggon before a gallery of four white men and a lot of kaffirs, all cracking] and crying with laughter, was a sight never to be for- n iVil gotten. I did not want to get lost and be eaten 129 i alive, or even look ridiculous, so I began very care- fully : glanced back regularly to see what the track, trees, rocks, or kopjes looked like from the other side ; carefully noted which side of the road I had turned off ; and always kept my eye on the sun. But day after day and month after month went by without accident or serious diffi- culty, and then the same old thing happened : familiarity bred contempt, and I got the beginner's complaint, conceit fever, just as others did : thought I was rather a fine fellow, not like other chaps who always have doubts and difficulties in finding their way back, but something exceptional with the real instinct in me which hunters, natives, and many animals are supposed to have; thought, in fact, I could not get lost. So each . day I went further and more boldly off the road, and grew more confident and careless. The very last thing that would have occurred to me on this particular day was that there was any chance of being lost or any need to take note of where we went. For many weeks we had been hunting in exactly the same sort of country, but not of course in the same part ; and the truth is I did not give the matter a thought at all, but went ahead as one does with the things that are done every day as matters of habit. WE were outspanned near some deep shaded water- holes, and at about three o'clock I took my rifle and wandered off in the hope of dropping across something ^ for the larder and having some sport during the three hours before the evening trek would begin ; and as there was plenty of spoor of many kinds the pros- pects seemed good enough. We had been going along slowly, it may be for half an hour, without seeing more than a little stembuck scurrying away in the distance, when I noticed that Jock was rather busy with his nose, sniffing about in a way that looked like business. He was not sure of anything ; that was clear, because he kept trying in different directions ; not as you see a pointer do, but very seriously silently and slowly, moving at a cautious walk for a few yards and then taking a look about. The day was hot and still, as usual at that time of the year, and any noise would be easily heard, so I had stopped to give Jock a chance of ranging about. At the moment we were in rather open ground, and finding that Jock was still very suspicious I moved on towards where the bush was thicker and we were less likely to be seen from a distance. As we got near the better cover there was a rasping, squawky cry in a cockatoo's voice, " Go 'way ; go 'way ; go' way ! " -and one of those ugly big-beaked Go 'way birds came sailing up from behind and flapped on to the trees we were making for. No doubt they have another name, but in the Bushveld they were known as Go 'way birds, because of this cry and because they are supposed to warn the game when an enemy is coming. But they are not like the tick bird or the rhinoceros bird, who stick close to their friends and as soon as they see or hear anything suspicious flutter straight up filling the air with twittering cries of alarm ; the Go 'way birds do not feed on ticks and have nothing to do with the game ; you find them where there is no game, and it always seemed to me that it is not concern for the game at all, but simply a combination of vulgar curiosity, disagreeableness and bad manners, that makes them interfere as they do. The reason why I do not believe the Go 'way birds care a rap about the game and only want to worry you is that often one of them will make up its mind to stick to you, and you can turn twist and double as many ways as you like, but as soon as you begin to walk on again the wretched thing will fly over your head and perch twenty yards or so in front of you, screeching out " Go 'way " at the top of its voice. There it will sit ready to fly off again as you come on, its ugly head on one side and big hooked bill like an aggressive nose, watching you mercilessly, as vigilant as a hungry fowl and as cross as a tired nurse in a big 132 family. They seem to know that you cannot shoot them without making more row and doing more harm than they do. I stood still for a few minutes to give this one a chance to fly away, and when it would not do so, but kept on screeching and craning its neck at me, I threw a stone at it. It ducked violently and gave a choking hysterical squawk of alarm and anger as the stone whizzed close to its head ; then flying on to another tree a few yards off, screamed away more noisily than ever. Evidently the best thing to do was to go ahead taking no notice of the creature and trusting that it would tire and leave me alone ; so I walked off briskly. There was a slight rustling in the bush ahead of us as I stepped out, and then the sound of feet. I made a dash for the chance of a running shot, but it was too late, and all we saw was half a dozen beautiful koodoo disappearing among the tree stems. I turned towards that Go 'way bird. Perhaps he did not like the look on my face or the way I held the rifle ; for he gave one more snarling shriek, as if he was emptying himself for ever of his rage and spite, and flapped away. Jock was standing like a statue, leaning slightly forward but with head very erect, jaws tightly closed, and eyes looking straight in front, as bright as black diamonds. It was a bad disappointment ; for that was the first time we had fairly and squarely come upon koodoo. However, it was still early and the game had not been scared, but had gone off 133 quietly ; so hoping for another chance we started off at a trot along the fresh spoor. A big koodoo bull stands as high as a bullock, and although they have the small shapely feet of an ante- lope the spoor is heavy enough to follow at a trot except on stony ground. Perhaps they know this, for they certainly prefer the rough hard ground when they can get it. We went along at a good pace, but with many short breaks to make sure of the spoor in the stony parts ; and it was pretty hot work, although clothing was light for hunting. A rough flannel shirt, open at the throat, and moleskin trousers dyed with coffee — for khaki was unknown to us then — was the usual wear ; and we carried as little as possible. Gen- erally a water-bottle filled with unsweetened cold tea and a cartridge belt were all we took besides the rifle. This time I had less than usual. Meaning to be out only for a couple of hours at most and to stick close to the road, I had pocketed half a dozen cartridges and left both bandolier and water-bottle behind. It was not long before we came upon the koodoo again ; but they were on the watch. They were standing in the fringe of some thick bush, broadside on but looking back full at us, and as soon as I stopped to aim the whole lot disappeared with the same easy movement, just melting away in the bush. If I had only known it, it was a hopeless chase for an inexperienced hunter : they were simply playing with me. The very things that seemed so encouraging to me would have warned an old hand that running on the trail was quite useless. When they moved off quietly, it was not because they were foolhardy or did not realise the danger. When they allowed us to catch up to them time after time, it was not because they did not expect us. When they stood on the edge of thick bush where we could see them, it was not stupidity. When they could disappear with an easy bound, it was not accident. It was all part of the game. They were keeping in touch with us so that we could not surprise them, and whenever they stopped it was always where they could see us coming through the thinner bush for a long way and where they themselves could disappear in the thick bush in a couple of strides. Moreover, with each fresh run they changed their direction with the object of making it difficult for us to follow them up, and with the deliberate purpose of eventually reaching some favourite and safe haunt of theirs. An old hand might have known this ; but a beginner goes blindly along the spoor — exactly where they are expecting him. The chase was long and tiring, but there was no feeling of disappointment and no thought of giving it up : each time they came in sight we got keener and more excited, and the end seemed nearer and more certain. I knew what the six animals were — four cows, one young bull, and a magnificent old fellow with a glorious head and great spiral horns. I carried his picture in my eye and could pick him out instantly wherever he stood and however motionless ; for, incredibly difficult as it is to pick out still objects in the bush before your eye becomes accustomed to it, it is wonderful what you can do 135 when your eye is in and you are cool and intent and know what you are looking for. I had the old bull marked down as mine, and $s>knew his every detail — his splendid bearing, strong shaggy neck with mane to the withers and bearded throat, the soft grey dove-colour of the coat with its white stripes, the easy balancing movement in carrying the massive horns as he cantered away, and the trick of throwing them back to glide them through the bush. The last run was a long and hard one ; and the koodoo seemed to have taken matters seriously and made up their minds to put a safe distance between us and them. The spooring was often difficult and the pace hot. I was wet through from the hard work, and so winded that further effort seemed almost im- possible ; but we plodded away — the picture of the koodoo bull luring me on, and Jock content with any chase. Without him the spoor would have been lost long before ; it was in many places too faint and scattered for me to follow, but he would sniff about quietly, and, by his contented looks back at me and brisk wagging of that stumpy tail, show that he was on it again, and off we would go on another tired straggling trot. But at last even his help was not enough : we had come to the end of the chase, and not a spoor, scratch, or sign of any sort was to be seen. Time had passed unnoticed, and it was only when it became clear that further search would be quite useless that I looked at my watch and found it was nearly five o'clock. That was rather a shock, for it 136 seemed reasonable to think that, as we had been out for pretty nearly two hours and going fast for most of the time, it would take almost as long to get back again. I had not once noticed our direction or looked at the sun, yet when it came to making for camp again the idea of losing the way never occurred to me. I had not the slightest doubt about the way we had come, and it seemed the natural thing to go back the same way. A short distance from where we finally gave up the chase there was a rise crowned by some good-sized rocks and bare of trees ; it was not high enough to be fairly called a kopje, but I climbed it on chance of getting a view of the surrounding country — to see, if possible, how far we had come. The rise was not sufficient, however, to give a view ; there was nothing to be seen, and I sat down on the highest rock to rest for a few minutes and smoke a cigarette. It is over twenty years since that day, but that cigarette is not forgotten, and the little rise where we rested is still, to me, Cigarette Kopje. I was so thoroughly wet from the heat and hard work that the matches in the breast pocket of my shirt were all damp, and the heads came off most of them before one was gently coaxed into giving a light. Five minutes rest was enough. We both wanted a drink, but there was no time then to hunt for water in such a dry part as that, so off we started for camp and jogged along for a good time, perhaps half an hour. Then little by little I began to feel some uncertainty about the way and to look about from side to side for reminders. The start back had been easy enough : that part of the ground where we had lost the spoor had been gone over very thoroughly and every object was familiar ; but further back, where we had followed the spoor at a trot for long stretches and I had hardly raised my eyes from the ground before me, it was a very different matter. I forgot all about those long , stretches in which nothing had been noticed except the koodoo spoor, and was unconsciously looking out for things in regular succession which we had passed at [quite long intervals. Of course, they were not to be found, but I kept on looking out for them — first feeling annoyed, then puzzled, then worried. Something had gone wrong, and we were not going back on our old tracks. Several times I looked about for the koodoo spoor as a guide ; but it might be anywhere over a width of a hundred yards, and it seemed waste of precious time to search the dry grass-grown and leaf-strewn ground for that. At the first puzzled stop I tried to recall some of the more noticeable things we had passed during the chase. There were two flat-topped mimosas, looking like great rustic tables on a lawn, and we had passed between them ; there was a large ant-heap, with a twisty top like a crooked mud chimney, behind which the koodoo bull had calmly stood watching us approach; then a marula tree with a fork like a giant catapult stick ; and so on with a score of other things, all coming readily to mind. 138 That was what put me hopelessly wrong. I began to look for particular objects instead of taking one direction and keeping to it. Whenever a flat-topped thorn, a quaint ant-heap, a patch of tambookie grass, or a forked marula came in sight, I would turn off to see if they were the same we had passed coming out. It was hopeless folly, of course ; for in that country there were hundreds and thousands of such things all looking very much alike, and you could walk yourself to death zigzagging about from one to another and never get any nearer home : when it comes to doing that sort of thing your judgment is gone and you have lost your head ; and the worst of it is you do not know it and would not believe it if any one could tell you so. I did not know it ; but it was nevertheless the fact. As the sun sank lower I hurried on faster, but never long in one line — always turning this way and that to search for the particular marks I had in mind. At last we came to four trees in a line, and my heart gave a great jump, for these we had certainly passed before. In order to make quite sure I hunted for koodoo spoor ; there was none to be seen, but on an old molehill there was the single print of a dog's foot. " Ha, Jock's ! " I exclaimed aloud ; and Jock him- self at the sound of his name stepped up briskly and sniffed at his own spoor. Close beside it there was the clear mark of a heeled boot, and there were others further on. There was no doubt about it, they were Jock's and mine, and I could have given a whoop of delight ; but a chilly feeling 139 came over me when I realised that the footprints were leading the same way as we were going, instead of the opposite way. What on earth did it mean ? ' VI laid the rifle down and sat on an old stump to think it out, and after puzzling over it for some minutes came to the conclusion that by some stupid blunder I must have turned round somewhere and followed the line of the koodoo, instead of going back on it. The only thing to be done was to right about face and go faster than ever ; but, bad as the disappointment was, it was a certain consolation to know that we were on the track at last. That at any rate was a certainty ; for, besides the footprints, the general appearance of the country and many individual features were perfectly familiar, now that I took a good look at them from this point. At that moment I had not a shadow of doubt about the way — no more, indeed, than if we had been on the road itself : no suspicion of the truth occurred to me ; yet the simple fact is we were not then on the koodoo trail at all, but, having made a complete circle, had come on to our own trail at the molehill and were now doing the circle the second time — but the reverse way now. The map on the opposite page is an attempt to show what happened ; the details are of course only guesswork, but the general idea is correct. The koodoo themselves had moved in a rough circle and in the first attempt to return to the waggons I had started back on their trail but must have turned aside somewhere, and after that, by dodging about looking 140 MAP OF**LOST IN THE VELD* Thick Mack fine ihotfa track of Koodoo. Thin black line thoiils first circle Ixyinmnff (Xgarette Kojye &endiftff afZ , Jocks footprint in Molehill. Dotted line thou}j second circle from "Z, uShere I turned back again, to Cxffaretfo Kojye. & ^IrrotAfm i ahatB the direction/ in vdhich vde ident/ on ectfh trait. CigaretteKojye '• $$ fayriith Caftte for special landmarks, have made a complete circle. Thus we eventually came back to the track on which we had started for home, and the things that then looked so convincingly familiar were things seen during the first attempt to return, and not, as I supposed, landmarks on the original koodoo trail. Jock's footprints in the molehill were only a few hundred yards from the Cigarette Kopje and about the same distance from where we had lost the koodoo spoor ; and we were, at that moment, actually within a mile of the waggons. It seems incredible that one could be so near and not see or understand. Why should one walk in circles instead of taking a fairly straight line ? How was it possible to pass Cigarette Kopje and not recog- nise it, for I must have gone within fifty yards or less of it ? As for not seeing things, the answer is that the bush does not allow you to see much: the waggons, for instance, might as well have been a hundred miles away. As for Cigarette Kop — things do not look the same unless seen from the same point ; moreover there are heaps of things easily visible which you will never see at all because you are looking only for something else : you carry a precon- ceived idea, a sort of picture in your eye, and every- thing that does not fit in with that is not noticed — not even seen. As for walking in circles, it is my belief that most people, just like most horses, have a natural leaning or tendency towards one side or the other, and unless checked unconsciously indulge it. When riding in the veld, or any open country, you 142 will notice that some horses will want to take any turn off to the right, others always go to the left, and only very few keep straight on. When out walking you will find that some people cannot walk on your right hand without coming across your front or working you into the gutter ; others ' mule ' you from the left. Get them out in open country, walk briskly, and talk ; then give way a little each time they bump you, and in a very little while you will have done the circle. If you have this tendency in the Bushveld, where you cannot see any distant object to make for as a goal, any obstacle straight in front of you throws you off to the side you incline to ; any openings in the trees which look like avenues or easy ways draw you ; and between any two of them you will always choose the one on your favourite side. Finally, a little know- ledge is a dangerous thing in the veld, as elsewhere. When you know enough to recognise marks with- out being able to identify or locate them — that is, when you know you have seen them before but are not sure of the when and the where — goodness only knows what conclusion you will come to or what you will do. I had passed Cigarette Kopje, it's true ; but when coming towards it from a new side it must have looked quite different ; and besides that, I had not been expect- ing it, not looking for it, not even thinking of it — had indeed said good-bye to it for ever. When we turned back at the molehill, beginning to do the circle for the second time, we must have passed quite close to Cigarette Kopje again, but again it was from a different H3 opening in the bush, and this time I had thought of nothing and seen nothing except the things I picked out and recognised as we hurried along. To my half-opened beginner's eyes these things were familiar : we had passed them before ; that seemed to be good enough : it must be right ; so on we went, simply doing the same circle a second time, but this time the reverse way. The length of my shadow stretching out before me as we started from the molehill was a reminder of the need for haste, and we set off at a smart double. A glance back every few minutes to make sure that we were returning the way we had come was enough, and on we sped, confident for my part that we were securely on the line of the koodoo and going straight for the waggons. It is very difficult to say how long this lasted before once more a horrible doubt arose. It was when we had done half the circle that I was pulled up as if struck in the face : the setting sun shining into my eyes as we crossed an open space stopped me ; for, as the bright gold-dust light of the sunset met me full, I remembered that it was my long shadow in front of me as we started from the molehill that had urged me to hurry on. We had started due east : we were going dead west ! What on earth was wrong ? There were the trees and spaces we had passed, a blackened stump, an ant-bear hole ; all familiar. What then was the meaning of it ? Was it only a temporary swerve ? No ! I tested that by pushing on further along the track we were following, and it held steadily to the west. Was it then all imagination about having 144 been there before ? No, that was absurd ! And yet — and yet, as I went on, no longer trotting and full of hope but walking heavily and weighted with doubt, the feel- ing of uncertainty grew until I really did not know whether the familiar-looking objects and scenes were indeed old acquaintances or merely imagination play- ing tricks in a country where every style and sample was copied a thousand times over. A few minutes later I again caught sight of the sunset glow — it was on my direct right : it meant that the trail had taken another turn, while I could have sworn we were holding a course straight as an arrow. It was all a hopeless tangle. I was lost then — and knew it. It was not the dread of a night out in the bush — for after many months of roughing it, that had no great terrors for me — but the helpless feeling of being lost and the anxiety and uncertainty about finding the road again, that gnawed at me and made me feel tucked-up and drawn. I wondered when they would begin to look for me, if they would light b* fires and fire shots, and if it would be possible to see or hear the signals. The light would not last much longer; the dimness, the silence, and the hateful doubts about the trail made it more and more diffi- cult to recognise the line ; so I thought it was time to fire a signal shot. There was no answer. It was silly to hope for one ; for even if it had been heard they would only have thought that I was shooting at something. Yet the clinging to hope wag so strong that every t went] or so I stopped to listen for a reply; and 145 K when, after what seemed an eternity, none came, I fired another. When you shoot in the excitement of the chase the noise of the report does not strike you as anything out of the way ; but a signal shot when you are alone and lost seems to fill the world with sound and to shake the earth itself. It has a most chilling effect, and the feeling of loneliness becomes acute as the echoes die away and still no answer comes. Another short spell of tip-toe walking and intent listening, and then it came to me that one shot as a signal was useless ; I should have fired more and at regular intervals, like minute-guns at sea. I felt in my pocket : there were only four cartridges there and one in the rifle ; there was night before me, with the wolves and the lions ; there was the food for to- morrow, and perhaps more than to-morrow ! There could be no minute-guns : two shots were all that could be spared, and I looked about for some high and open ground where the sound would travel far and wide. On ahead of us to the right the trees seemed fewer and the light stronger ; and there I came upon some rising ground bare of bush. It was not much for my purpose, but it was higher than the rest and quite open, and there were some rocks scattered about the top. The same old feeling of mixed remembrance and doubt came over me as we climbed it : it looked familiar and yet different. Was it memory or imagina- tion? But there was no time for wonderings. From the biggest rock, which was only waist high, I fired off two 146 of my precious cartridges, and stood like a statue listening for the reply. The silence seemed worse than before : the birds had gone to roost ; even the flies had disappeared ; there was no sound at all but the beat of my own heart and Jock's panting breath. There were three cartridges and a few damp matches left. There was no sun to dry them now, but I laid them out carefully on the smooth warm rock, and hoped that one at least would serve to light our camp fire. There was no time to waste : while the light lasted I had to drag up wood for the fire and pick a place for the camp — somewhere where the rocks behind and the fire in front would shelter us from the lions and hyenas, and where I could watch and listen for signals in the night. There was plenty of wood near by, and thinking anxiously of the damp matches I looked about for dry tindery grass so that any spark would give a start for the fire. As I stooped to look for the grass I came on a patch of bare ground between the scattered tufts, and in the middle of it there lay a half-burnt match ; and such a flood of relief and hope surged up that my heart beat up in my throat. Where there were matches there had been men ! We were not in the wilds, then, where white men seldom went — not off the beaten track : perhaps not far from the road itself. You must experience it to know what it meant at that moment. It drew me on to look for more ! A yard away I found the burnt end of a cigarette ; and before there was time to realise why that should H7 seem queer, I came on eight or ten matches with their heads knocked off. For a moment things seemed to go round and round. I sat down with my back against the rock and a funny choky feeling in my throat. I knew they were my matches and cigarette, and that we were exactly where we had started from hours before, when we gave up the chase of the koodoo. I began to under- stand things then : why places and landmarks seemed familiar ; why Jock's spoor in the molehill had pointed the wrong way ; why my shadow was in front and behind and beside me in turns. We had been going round in a circle. I jumped up and looked about me with a fresh light ; and it was all clear as noonday then. Why, this was the fourth time we had been on or close to some part of this same rise that day, each time within fifty yards of the same place ; it was the second time I had sat on that very rock. And there was nothing odd or remarkable about that either, for each time I had been looking for the highest point to spy from and had naturally picked the rock-topped rise ; and I had not recognised it, only because we came upon it from different sides each time and I was thinking of other things all the while. All at once it seemed as if my eyes were opened and all was clear at last. I knew what to do : just make the best of it for the night ; listen for shots and watch for fires ; and if by morning no help came in that way, then strike a line due south for the road and follow it up until we found the waggons. It might take all day or even more, but we were sure of 148 water that way and one could do it. The relief of really understanding was so great that the thought of a night out no longer worried me. There was enough wood gathered, and I stretched out on the grass to rest as there was nothing else to do. We were both tired out, hot, dusty, and very very thirsty ; but it was too late to hunt for water then. ,1 was lying on my side chewing a grass stem, and Jock lay down in front of me a couple of feet away. It was a habit of his : he liked to watch my face, and often when I jrolled over to ease one side and lie on the other he would get up^when he found my back turned to him and come round deliberately to the other side and sling himself down in front of me again. There he would lie with his hind legs sprawled on one side, his front legs straight out, and his head resting on his paws. He would lie like that without a move, his little dark eyes fixed on mine all the time until the stillness and the rest made him sleepy, and he would blink and blink, like a drowsy child, fighting against sleep until it beat him ; and then — one long-drawn breath as he rolled gently over on his side, and Jock was away in Snoozeland. In the loneliness of that evening I looked into his steadfast resolute face with its darker muzzle and bright faithful eyes that looked so soft and brown when there was nothing to do but got so beady black when it came to fighting. I felt very friendly to the comrade who was little more than a puppy still; and he seemed to feel something too ; for as I lay there chewing the straw and looking at him, he stirred 149 his stump of a tail in the dust an inch or so from time to time to let me know .that he understood all about it and that it was all right as long as we were together. But an interruption came. Jock suddenly switched up his head, put it a bit sideways as a man would do, listening over his shoulder with his nose rather up in the air. I watched him, and thinking that it was probably only a buck out to feed in the cool of the evening, I tickled his nose with the long straw, saying, " No good, old chap ; only three cartridges left. We must keep them." No dog likes to have his nose tickled : it makes them sneeze ; and many dogs get quite offended, because it hurts their dignity. Jock was not offended, but he got up and, as if to show me that I was frivolous and not attending properly to business, turned away from me and with his ears cocked began to listen again. He was standing slightly in front of me and I happened to notice his tail : it was not moving ; it was drooping slightly and perfectly still, and he kept it like that as he stepped quietly forward on to another sloping rock overlooking a side where we had not yet been. Evidently there was something there, but he did not know what, and he wanted to find out. I watched him, much amused by his calm businesslike manner. He walked to the edge of the rock and looked out : for a few minutes he stood stock-still with his ears cocked and his tail motionless ; then his ears dropped and his tail wagged gently from side to side. Something — an instinct or sympathy quickened by the day's experience, that I had never quite known before — taught me to understand, and I jumped up, |; thinking, " He sees something that he knows : he is pleased." As I walked over to him, he looked back at me with his mouth open and tongue out, his ears still down and tail wagging — he was smiling all over, in his own way. I looked out over his head, and there, about three hundred yards off, were the oxen peacefully grazing and the herd-boy in his red coat lounging along behind them. Shame at losing myself and dread of the others' chaff kept me very quiet, and all they knew for many months was that we had had a long fruitless chase after koodoo and hard work to get back in time. I had had my lesson, and did not require to have it rubbed in and be roasted as Buggins had been. Only Jock and I knew all about it ; but once or twice there were anxious nervous moments when it looked as if we were not the only ones in the secret. The big Zulu driver, Jim Makokel' — always interested in hunting and all that concerned Jock — asked me as we were inspanning what I had fired the last two shots at ; and as I pretended not to hear or to notice the question, he went on to say how he had told the other boys that it must have been a klipspringer on a high rock or a monkey or a bird because the bullets had whistled over the waggons. I told him to inspan and not talk so much, and moved round to the other side of the waggon. That night I slept hard, but woke up once s«i"'< dreaming that several lions were looking down at me from the top of a big flat rock and Jock was keeping them off. Jock was in his usual place beside me, lying against my blankets. I gave him an extra pat for the dream, thinking, " Good old boy ; we know all about it, you and I, and we're not going to tell. But we've learned some things that we won't forget." And as I dropped off to sleep again I felt a few feeble sleepy pats against my leg, and knew it was Jock's tail wagging " Good night." a$»^»v NOT all our days were spent in excitement — far far from it. For six or seven months the rains were too heavy, the heat too great, the grass too rank, and the fever too bad in the Bushveld for any one to do any -^ good there ; so that for more than half of the year we had no hunting to speak of, as there was not much to be done above the Berg. But even during the hunting season there were many off-days and long spells when we never fired a shot. The work with the waggons was .hard when we had full loads, the trekking slow and at night, so that there was always something to do in the daytime — repairs to be done, oxen to be doctored, grass and water to be looked for, and so on ; and we had to make up sleep when we could. Even when the sport was good and the bag satisfactory there was usually nothing new to tell about it. So Jock and I had many a long spell when there was no hunting, many a bad day when we worked hard but had no sport, and many a good day when we got what we were after and nothing happened that would interest any one else. 153 Every hunt was exciting and interesting for us, even those in which we got nothing ; indeed some of the most interesting were those in which the worst disap- pointments occurred, when after hard work and long chases the game escaped us. To tell all that happened would be to tell the same old story many times over ; but indeed, it would not be possible to tell all, for there were some things — the most interesting of all, perhaps — which only Jock knew. After the fight with the duiker there was never any doubt as to what he would do if allowed to follow up a wounded animal. It made a deal of difference in the hunting to know that he could be trusted to find it and hold on or bay it until I could get up. The bush was so thick that it was not possible to see more than a very few hundred yards at best, and the country was so dry and rough that if a wounded animal once got out of sight only an expert tracker had any chance of finding it again. Jock soon showed himself to be better than the best of trackers, for besides never losing the trail he would either pull down the buck or, if too big for that, attack and worry even the biggest of them to such an extent that they would have to keep turning on him to protect themselves and thus give me the chance to catch up. But the first result of my confidence in him was some perfectly hopeless chases. It is natural enough to give oneself the benefit of any doubt ; the enthu- siastic beginner always does so, and in his case the lack of experience often creates a doubt where none should have existed; and the doubt is often very 154 welcome, helping him out with explanations of the un- flattering facts. For the listener it is, at best and worst, only amusing or tiresome ; but for the person con- cerned it is different — for, as Rocky said, ' It don't fool any one worth speakin' of 'cept yerself.' And ' there's the rub.' Whenever a bullet struck with a thud, and no dust appeared to show that it had hit the ground, I thought that it must have wounded the buck ; and once you get the idea that the buck is hit, all sorts of reasons appear in support of it. There is hardly anything that the buck can do which does not seem to you to prove that it is wounded. It bounds into the air, races off suddenly, or goes away quite slowly ; it switches its tail or shakes its head ; it stops to look back, or does not stop at all ; the spoor looks awkward and scrappy ; the rust on the grass looks like dry blood. If you start with a theory instead of weighing the evidence all these things will help to prove that theory : they will, in fact, mean exactly what you want them to mean. You ' put up a job on yerself ' — to quote Rocky again — and with the sweat of your brow and vexation of spirit you have to work that job out. Poor old Jock had a few hard chases after animals which I thought were wounded but were not hit at all — not many, however, for he soon got hold of the right idea and was a better judge than his master. He went off the instant he was sent, but if there was nothing wounded — that is, if he could not pick up a ' blood spoor ' — he would soon show it by casting across the trail, instead of following hard on it ; and I knew then there was nothing in it. Often he would 155 come back of his own accord, and there was something quite peculiar in his look when he returned from these wild-goose chases that seemed to say, " No good : you were quite wrong. You missed the whole lot of them." He would come up to me with his mouth wide open and tongue out, a bit blown, and stand still with his front legs wide apart, looking up at me with that nothing- in-it sort of look in his eyes and not a movement in his ears or tail and never a turn of his head to show the least interest in anything else. I got to know that look quite well ; and to me it meant, " Well, that job was a failure — finished and done for. Now is there anything else you can think of ? " What always seemed to me so curious and full of meaning was that he never once looked back in the direction of the unwounded game, but seemed to put them out of his mind altogether as of no further interest. It was very different when he got on to the trail of a wounded buck and I had to call him off, as was sometimes necessary when the chase looked hope- less or it was too late to go further. He would obey, of course— no amount of excitement made him forget that ; but he would follow me in a sort of sideways trot, looking back over his shoulder all the time, and whenever there was a stop, turning right round and staring intently in the direction of the game with his little tail moving steadily from side to side and his hind legs crouched as if ready to spring off the instant he got permission. Twice I thought he was lost for ever through following wounded game. The first occasion was also the first time that we got among the impala and saw them in numbers. There is no more beautiful and fascinating sight than that of a troop of impala or springbuck really on the move and jumping in earnest. The height and distance that they clear is simply incredible. The impala's greater size and its delicate^l\ spiral horns give it a special distinction ; the spring- buck's brilliant white and red, and the divided crest which fans out along the spine when it is excited, are unique. But who can say which of the many beautiful antelopes is the most beautiful ? The oldest hunter will tell you of first one, then another, and then another, as they come to mind, just as he saw them in some supreme unforgettable moment ; and each at that moment has seemed quite the most beautiful animal in the world. It is when they are jumping that the impala are seen at their best. No one knows what they really can do, for there are no fences in their country by which to judge or guess, and as they run in herds it is practically impossible ever to find the take-off or landing-place of any single animal. Once when hunting along the Wenhla Mohali River we managed to turn seven of them into an old run ending in a rocky gorge ; but suspecting danger they would not face the natural outlet, and turning up the slope cleared a barrier of thick thorn scrub and escaped. When we looked at the place afterwards we found that the bushes were nine feet high. We were not near enough to see whether they touched the tops or cleared them ; all we were sure of was that they did not hesitate for 157 a second to face a jump nine feet high at the top of a sharp rise, and that all seven did it in follow-my- leader order with the most perfect ease and grace. Every hunter has seen a whole troop, old and young, following the example of the leader, clear a road or donga twenty feet wide, apparently in an effortless stride. It is a fine sight, and the steady stream of buck makes an arch of red and white bodies over the road looking like the curve of a great wave. You stand and watch in speechless admiration ; and the first gasp at a glorious leap is followed by steady silent wonder at the regularity of the numbers. Then suddenly you see one animal — for no apparent reason : it may be fright or it may be frolic — take off away back behind the others, shoot up, and sail high above the arch of all the rest, and with head erect and feet comfortably gathered, land far beyond them — the difference between ease and effort, and oh ! the perfect grace of both ! Something is wrung from you — a word, a gasp — and you stand breathless with wonder and admiration until the last one is gone. You have forgotten to shoot ; but they have left you something better than a trophy, something which time will only glorify — a picture that in daylight or in dark will fill your mind whenever you hear the name Impala. Something of this I carried away from my first experience among them. There were a few minutes of complete bewilderment, a scene of the wildest confusion, and flashes of incident that go to make a great picture which it is impossible to forget. But 158 then there followed many hours of keen anxiety when I believed that Jock was gone for ever ; and it was long before that day found its place in the gallery of happy memories. We had gone out after breakfast, striking well away from the main road until we got among the thicker thorns where there was any amount of fresh spoor and we were quite certain to find a troop sooner or later. The day was so still, the ground so dry, and the bush so thick that the chances were the game would hear us before we could get near enough to see them. Several times I heard sounds of rustling bush or feet cantering away : something had heard us and made off unseen ; so I dropped down into the sandy bed of a dry donga and used it as a stalking trench. From this it was easy enough to have a good look around every hundred yards or so without risk of being heard or seen. We had been going along cautiously in this way for some time when, peering over the bank, I spied a single impala half hidden by a scraggy bush. It seemed queer that there should be only one, as their habit is to move in troops ; but there was nothing else to be seen ; indeed it was only the flicker of an ear on this one that had caught my eye. Nothing else in the land moved. Jock climbed the bank also, following so closely that he bumped against my heels, and when I lay flat actually crawled over my legs to get up beside me and see what was on. Little by little he got into the way of imitating all I did, so that after a while it was hardly necessary to say a word or make a sign 159 ' to him. He lay down beside me and raised his head to look just as he saw me do. He was all excitement, trembling like a wet spaniel on a cold day, and instead of looking steadily at the impala as I was doing and as he usually did, he was looking here there and everywhere ; it seemed almost as if he was looking at things — not for them. It was my comfortable belief at the moment that he had not yet spotted the buck, but was looking about anxiously to find out what was interesting me. It turned out, as usual, that he had seen a great deal more than his master had. The stalking looked very easy, as a few yards further up the donga there was excellent cover in some dense thorns, behind which we could walk boldly across open ground to within easy range of the buck and get a clear shot. We reached the cover all right, but I had not taken three steps into the open space beyond before there was a rushing and scrambling on every side of me. The place was a whirlpool of racing and plunging impala ; they came from every side and went in every direction as though caught suddenly in an enclosure and, mad with fear and bewilderment, were trying to find a way out. How many there were it was quite impossible to say : the bush was alive with them ; and the dust they kicked up, the noise of their feet, their curious sneezy snorts, and their wild con- fusion completely bewildered me. Not one stood still. Never for a moment could I see any single animal clearly enough or long enough to fire at it ; another would cross it ; a bush would cover it as I aimed ; or it would leap into the air, clearing bushes, 1 60 S3 h bucks and everything in its way, and disappear again in the moving mass. They seemed to me to whirl like leaves in a wind eddy : my eyes could not follow them and my brain swam as I looked. It was a hot day ; there was no breeze at all ; and probably the herd had been resting after their morning feed and drink when we came upon them. By creep- ing up along the donga we had managed to get un- observed right into the middle of the dozing herd, so they were literally on every side of us. At times it looked as if they were bound to stampede over us and simply trample us down in their numbers ; for in their panic they saw nothing, and not one appeared to know what or where the danger was. Time and again, as for part of a second I singled one out and tried to aim, others would come racing straight for us, compelling me to switch round to face them, only to find them swerve with a dart or a mighty bound when within a few paces of me. What Jock was doing during that time I do not know. It was all such a whirl of excitement and confusion that there are only a few clear impressions left on my mind. One is of a buck coming through the air right at me, jumping over the backs of two others racing across my front. I can see now the sudden wriggle of its body and the look of terror in its eyes when it saw me and realised that it was going to land almost at my feet. I tried to jump aside, but it was not necessary : with one touch on the ground it shot slantingly past me like a ricochet bullet. Another picture that always comes back is that of a splendid 161 L ram clearing the first of the dense thorn bushes that were to have been my cover in stalking. He flew over it outlined against the sky in the easiest most graceful and most perfect curve imaginable. It came back to me afterwards that he was eight or ten yards from me, and yet I had to look up into the sky to see his white chest and gracefully gathered feet as he cleared the thorn bush like a soaring bird. One shot, out of three or four fired in desperation as they were melting away, hit something ; the un- mistakable thud of the bullet told me so. That time it was the real thing, and when you hear the real thing you cannot mistake it. The wounded animal went off with the rest and I followed, with Jock ahead of me hot on the trail. A hundred yards further on where Jock with his nose to the ground had raced along between some low stones and a marula tree I came to a stop — bush all round me, not a living thing in sight, and all as silent as the grave. On one of the smooth hot stones there was a big drop of blood, and a few yards on I found a couple more. Here and there along the spoor there were smears on the long yellow grass, and it was clear enough, judging by the height of the blood-marks from the ground, that the impala was wounded in the body — probably far back, as there were no frothy bubbles to show a lung shot. I knew that it would be a long chase unless Jock could head the buck off and bay it ; but unless he could do this at once, he was so silent in his work that there was little chance of finding him. The trail became more and more difficult to follow ; the blood was less frequent, and the hot sun dried it so quickly that it was more than I could do to pick it out from the red streaks on the grass and many coloured leaves. So I gave it up and sat down to smoke and wait. Half an hour passed, and still no Jock. Then I wandered about whistling and calling for him — calling until the sound of my own voice became quite uncanny, the only sound in an immense silence. Two hours passed in useless calling and listening, searching and waiting, and then I gave it up altogether and made back for the waggons, trying to hope against my real conviction that Jock had struck the road some- where and had followed it to the outspan, instead of coming back on his own trail through the bush to me. But there was no Jock at the waggons ; and my heart sank, although I was not surprised. It was nearly four hours since he had disappeared, and it was as sure as anything could be that something extra- ordinary must have happened or he would have come back to me long before this. No one at the waggons had seen him since we started out together ; and there was nothing to be done but to wait and see what would happen. It was perfectly useless to look for him : if alive and well, he was better able to find his way than the best tracker that ever lived ; if dead or injured and unable to move, there was not one chance in a million of finding him. There was only one kaffir whom Jock would take any notice of or would allow to touch him — a great big Zulu named Jim MakokeP. Jim was one of the 163 real fighting Zulu breed ; and the pride he took in Jock, and the sort of partnership that he claimed in tastes, disposition and exploits, began the day Jock fought the table-leg and grew stronger and stronger to the end. Jim became Jock's devoted champion, and more than once, as will be seen, showed that he would face man or beast to stand by him when he needed help. This day when I returned to the waggons Jim was sitting with the other drivers in the group round the big pot of porridge. I saw him give one quick look my way and heard him say sharply to the others, "Where is the dog ? Where is Jock ? " He stood there looking at me with a big wooden spoon full of porridge stopped on the way to his mouth. In a few minutes they all knew what had happened ; the other boys took it calmly, saying composedly that the dog would find his way back. But Jim was not calm : it was not his nature. At one moment he would agree with them, swamping them with a flood of reasons why Jock, the best dog in the world, would be sure to come back ; and the next — hot with restless excitement — would picture all that the dog might have been doing and all that he might still have to face, and then break off to proclaim loudly that every one ought to go out and hunt for him. Jim was not practical or reasonable — he was too excitable for that ; but he was very loyal, and it was his way to show his feelings by doing something — generally and preferably by fighting some one. Knowing only too well how useless it would be to search for Jock, I lay down under the waggon to rest and wait. 164 After half an hour of this Jim could restrain himself no longer. He came over to where I lay and with a look of severe disapproval and barely controlled in- dignation, asked me for a gun, saying that he himself meant to go out and look for Jock. It would be nearer the mark to say that he demanded a gun. He was so genuinely anxious and so indignant at what he con- sidered my indifference that it was impossible to be angry ; and I let him talk away to me and at me in his exciting bullying way. He would take no answer and listen to no reason ; so finally to keep him quiet I gave him the shot-gun, and off he went, muttering his opinions of every one else — a great springy striding picture of fierce resolution. He came back nearly three hours later, silent, morose, hot and dusty. He put the gun down beside me without a word — just a click of disgust ; and as he strode across to his waggon, called roughly to one of the drivers for the drinking water. Lifting the bucket to his mouth he drank like an ox and slammed it down again without a word of thanks ; then sat down in the shade of the waggon, filled his pipe, and smoked in silence. The trekking hour came and passed ; but we did not move. The sun went down, and in the quiet of the evening we heard the first jackal's yapping — the first warning of the night. There were still lions and tigers in those parts, and any number of hyenas and wild dogs, and the darker it grew and the more I thought of it, the more hopeless seemed Jock's chance of getting through a night in the bush trying to work his way back to the waggons. 165 It was almost dark when I was startled by a yell from Jim Makokel', and looking round, saw him bound out into the road shouting, " He has come, he has come ! What did I tell you ? " He ran out to Jock, stooping to pat and talk to him, and then in a lower voice and with growing excitement went on rapidly, " See the blood ! See it ! He has fought : he has killed ! Dog of all dogs ! Jock, Jock ! " and his savage song of triumph broke off in a burst of rough tenderness, and he called the dog's name five or six times with every note of affection and welcome in his deep voice. Jock took no notice of Jim's dancing out to meet him, nor of his shouts, endearments and antics ; slowing his tired trot down to a walk, he came straight on to me, flickered his ears a bit, wagged his tail cordially, and gave my hand a splashy lick as I patted him. Then he turned round in the direction he had just come from, looked steadily out, cocked his ears well up, and moved his tail slowly from side to side. For the next half-hour or so he kept repeating this action every few minutes ; but even without that I knew that it had been no wild-goose chase, and that miles away in the bush there was something lying dead which he could show me if I would but follow him back again to see. What had happened in the eight hours since he - — .^had dashed off in pursuit can only be guessed. That he had. pulled down the impala and killed it seemed certain — and what a chase and what a fight it must have been to take all that time ! The buck could not been so badly wounded in the body as to be 1 66 disabled or it would have died in far less time than that : then, what a fight it must have been to kill an animal six or eight times his own weight and armed with such horns and hoofs ! But was it only the impala ? or had the hyenas and wild dogs followed up the trail, as they so often do, and did Jock have to fight his way through them too ? He was hollow-flanked and empty, parched with thirst, and so blown that his breath still caught in suffocating chokes. ^.He was covered with blood and sand ; his beautiful golden coat was dark and stained ; his white front had disappeared ; and there on his chest and throat, on his jaws and ears, down his front legs even to the toes, the blood was caked on him — mostly black and dried but some still red and sticky. He was a little lame in one fore-leg, but there was no cut or swelling to show the cause. There was only one mark to be seen : over his right eye there was a bluish line where the hair had been shaved off clean, leaving the skin smooth and unbroken. What did it ? Was it horn, hoof, tooth, or — what ? Only Jock knew. Hovering round and over me, pacing backwards and forwards between the waggons like a caged animal, Jim, growing more and more excited, filled the air with his talk his shouts and savage song. Want- ing to help, but always in the way, ordering and thrust- ing the other boys here and there, he worked himself up into a wild frenzy : it was , the Zulu fighting blood on and he * saw red ' everywhere. 167 I called for water. " Water ! " roared Jim, " bring water " ; and glaring round he made a spring — stick in hand — at the nearest kaffir. The boy fled in terror, with Jim after him for a few paces, and brought a bucket of water. Jim snatched it from him and with a resounding thump on the ribs sent the unlucky kaffir sprawling on the ground. Jock took the water in great gulpy bites broken by pauses to get his breath again ; and Jim paced up and down — talking, talking, talking ! Talking to me, to the others, to the kaffirs, to Jock, to the world at large, to the heavens, and to the dead. His eyes glared like a wild beast's and gradually little seams of froth gathered in the corners of his mouth as he poured out his cataract of words, telling of all Jock had done and might have done and would yet do ; comparing him with the fighting heroes of his own race, and wandering off into vivid recitals of single episodes and great battles ; seizing his sticks, shouting his war cries, and going through all the mimicry of fight with the wild frenzy of one possessed. Time after time I called him and tried to quiet him ; but he was beyond control. Once before he had broken out like this. I had asked him something about the Zulu war ; and that had started a flood of memories and excitement. In the midst of some description I asked why they killed the children ; and he turned his glaring eyes on me and said, " Inkos, you are my Inkos ; but you are white. If we fight to- morrow, I will kill you. You are good to me, you have 168 saved me ; but if our own king says ' Kill ! ' we kill ! We see red ; we kill all that lives. I must kill you, your wife, your mother, your children, your horses, your oxen, your dog, the fowls that run with the waggons — all that lives I kill. The blood must run." < And I believed him ; for that was the Zulu fighting spirit. So this time I knew it was useless to order or to talk : he was beyond control, and the fit must run its course. The night closed in and there was quiet once more. The flames of the camp fires had died down ; the big thorn logs had burnt into glowing coals like the pink crisp hearts of giant water-melons ; Jock lay sleeping, tired out, but even in his sleep came little spells of panting now and then, like the after-sobs of a child that has cried itself to sleep ; we lay rolled in our blankets, and no sound came from where the kaffirs slept. But Jim — only Jim — sat on his rough three- legged stool, elbows on knees and hands clasped together, staring intently into the coals. The fit worked slowly off, and his excitement died gradually away ; now and then there was a fresh burst, but always milder and at longer intervals, as you may see it in a dying fire or at the end of a great storm ; slowly but surely he subsided until at last there were only occasional mutterings of " Ow, Jock ! " followed by the Zulu click, the expressive shake of the head, and that appreciative half grunt, half chuckle, by which they pay tribute to what seems truly wonderful. He wanted no sleep that night : he sat on, waiting for the morning trek, staring into the red coals, and thinking 169 of the bygone glories of his race in the days of the mighty Chaka. That was Jim, when the fit was on him — transported by some trifling and unforeseen incident from the hum-drum of the road to the life he once had lived with splendid recklessness. TttJ JOCK was lost twice : that is to say, he was lost to me, and, as I thought, for ever. It came about both iff! times through his following up wounded animals and leaving me behind, and happened in the days when our hunting was all done on foot ; when I could afford a horse and could keep pace with him that difficulty did not trouble us. The experience with the impala had made me very careful not to let him go unless I felt sure that the game was hard hit and that he would be able to pull it down or bay it. But it is not always easy to judge that. A broken leg shows at once ; but a body shot is very difficult to place, and animals shot through the lungs, and even through the lower part of the heart, often go away at a cracking pace and are out of sight in no time, perhaps to keep it up for miles, perhaps to drop dead within a few minutes. After that day with the impala we had many good days together and many hard ones : we had our disappointments, but we had our triumphs ; and we were both getting to know our way about by degrees. Buck of many kinds had fallen to us ; but so far as I 171 was concerned there was one disappointment that was not to be forgotten. The picture of that koodoo bull as he appeared for the last time looking over the ant-heap the day we were lost was always before me. I could not hear the name or see the spoor of koodoo with- out a pang of regret and the thought that never again would such a chance occur. Koodoo, like other kinds of game, were not to be found every- where ; they favoured some localities more than others, and when we passed through their known haunts chances of smaller game were often neglected in the hope of coming across the koodoo. I could not give up whole days to hunting — for we had to keep moving along with the waggons all the time — or it would have been easy enough in many parts to locate the koodoo and make sure of getting a good bag. As it was, on three or four occasions we did come across them, and once I got a running shot, but missed. This was not needed to keep my interest in them alive, but it made me keener than ever. Day by day I went out always hoping to get my chance, and when at last the chance did come it was quite in accordance with the experience of many others that it was not in the least expected. The great charm of Bushveld hunting is its variety : you never know what will turn up next — the only certainty being that it will not be what you are expecting. The herd boy came ^A wvv . in one after- noon to say that there ^f^&iSimL* was a stem- 172 buck feeding among the oxen only a couple of hundred yards away. He had been quite close to it, he said, and it was very tame. Game, so readily alarmed by the sight of white men, will often take no notice of natives, allowing them to approach to very close quarters. They are also easily stalked under cover of cattle or horses, and much more readily approached on horseback than on foot. The presence of other animals seems to give them con- fidence or to excite mild curiosity without alarm, and thus distract attention from the man. In this case the bonny little red-brown fellow was not a bit scared ; he maintained his presence of mind admirably ; from time to time he turned his head our way and, with his large but shapely and most sensitive ears thrown forward examined us frankly while he moved slightly one way or another so as to keep under cover of the oxen and busily continue his browsing. In and out among some seventy head of cattle we played hide-and-seek for quite a while — I not daring to fire for fear of hitting one of the bullocks — until at last he found himself manoeuvred out of the troop ; and then without giving me a chance he was off into the bush in a few frisky skips. I followed quietly, knowing that as he was on the feed and not scared he would not go far. Moving along silently under good cover I reached a thick scrubby bush and peered over the top of it to search the grass under the surrounding thorn trees for the little red-brown form. I was looking about low down in the russety grass — for he was only about twice the size of Jock, and not easy to spot — when a movement on a higher level caught my eye. It was just the flip of a fly-tickled ear ; but it was a movement where all else was still, and instantly the form of a koodoo cow appeared before me as a picture is thrown on a screen by a magic-lantern. There it stood within fifty yards, the soft grey-and-white looking still softer in the shadow of the thorns, but as clear to me — and as still — as a figure carved in stone. The stem of a mimosa hid the shoulders, but all the rest was plainly visible as it stood there utterly un- conscious of danger. The tree made a dead shot almost impossible, but the risk of trying for another position was too great, and I fired. The thud of the bullet and the tremendous bound of the koodoo straight up in the air told that the shot had gone home ; but these things were for a time forgotten in the surprise that followed. At the sound of the shot twenty other koodoo jumped into life and sight before me. The one I had seen and shot was but one of a herd all dozing peacefully in the shade, and strangest of all, it was the one that was farthest from me. To the right and left of this one, at distances from fifteen to thirty yards from me, the magnificent creatures had been standing, and I had not seen them ; it was the flicker of this one's ear alone that had caught my eye. My be- wilderment was complete when I saw the big bull of the herd start off twenty yards on my right front and pass away like a streak in a few sweep- ing strides. It was a matter of seconds only and they were all out of sight— 174 all except the wounded one, which had turned off from the others. For all the flurry and confusion I had not lost sight of her, and noting her tucked-up appearance and shortened strides set Jock on her trail, believing that she would be down in a few minutes. It is not necessary to go over it all again : it was much the same as the impala chase. I came back tired, disappointed and beaten, and without Jock. It was only after darkness set in that things began to look serious. When it came to midnight, with the camp wrapped in silence and in sleep, and there was still no sign of Jock, things looked very black indeed. I heard his panting breath before it was possible to see anything. It was past one o'clock when he returned. ***** As we had missed the night trek to wait for Jock I decided to stay on where we were until the next evening and to have another try for the wounded koo- doo, with the chance of coming across the troop again. By daybreak Jock did not seem much the worse for his night's adventures — whatever they were. There were no marks of blood on him this time ; there were some scratches which might have been caused by thorns during the chase, and odd-looking grazes on both hind-quarters near the hip-bones, as though he had been roughly gravelled there. He seemed a little stiff, and flinched when I pressed his sides and muscles, but he was as game as ever when he saw the rifle taken down. 175 The koodoo had been shot through the body, and even without being run to death by Jock must have died in the night, or have lain down and become too cold and stiff to move. If not discovered by wild animals there was a good chance of finding it un- touched in the early morning ; but after sunrise every minute's delay meant fresh risk from the aas- vogels. There is very little which, if left uncovered, will escape their eyes. You may leave your buck for help to bring the meat in, certain from the most careful scrutiny that there is not one of these creatures in sight, and return in half an hour to find nothing but a few bones, the horns and hoofs, a rag of skin, and a group of disgusting gorged vultures squatting on a patch of ground all smeared, torn and feather- strewn from their voracious struggles. In the winter sky unrelieved by the least fleck of cloud — a dome of spotless polished steel — nothing, you would think, can move unseen. Yet they are there. In the early morning, from their white- splashed eeries on some distant mountain they slide off like a launching ship into their sea of blue, and, striking the currents of the upper air, sweep round and upwards in immense circles, their huge motionless wings carrying them higher and higher until they are lost to human sight. Lie on your back in some dense shade where no side-lights strike in, but where an opening above forms a sort of natural telescope to the sky, and you may see tiny specks where nothing could be seen before. Take your field-glasses : the specks are vultures circling up on high ! Look again, and far, far above you will see still other specks ; and for 176 aught you know, there may be others still beyond. How high are they ? And what can they see from there ? Who knows ? But this is sure, that within a few minutes scores will come swooping down in great spiral rushes where not one was visible before. My own belief is that they watch each other, tier above tier away into the limitless heavens — watching jealously, as hungry dogs do, for the least suspicious sign — to swoop down and share the spoil. In the dewy cool of the morning we soon reached the place where Jock had left me behind the evening before ; and from that on he led the way. It was much slower work then ; as far as I was concerned, there was nothing to guide me, and it was impossible to know what he was after. Did he understand that it was not fresh game but the wounded koodoo that I wanted ? And, if so, was he following the scent of the old chase or merely what he might remember of the way he had gone ? It seemed impossible that scent could lie in that dry country for twelve hours ; yet it was clearly nose more than eyes that guided him. He went ahead soberly and steadily, and once when he stopped completely, to sniff at a particular tuft of grass, I found out what was helping him. The grass was well streaked with blood : quite dry, it is true ; still it was blood. A mile or so on we checked again where the grass was trampled and the ground scored with spoor. The heavy spoor was all in a ring four or five yards in diameter ; outside this the grass was also flattened, and there I found a dog's footprints. But it had no further interest for Jock ; while I was examining it he 177 M picked up the trail and trotted on. We came upon four or five other rings where they had fought. The last of these was curiously divided by a fallen tree, and it puzzled me to guess how they could have made a circle with a good-sized trunk some two feet high intersecting it. I examined the dead tree and found a big smear of blood and a lot of coarse greyish hair on it. Evidently the koodoo had backed against it whilst facing Jock and had fallen over it, renewing the fight on the other side. There were also some golden hairs sticking on the stumpy end of a broken branch, which may have had something to do with Jock's scraped sides. Then for a matter of a hundred yards or more it looked as if they had fought and tumbled all the way. Jock was some distance ahead of me, trotting along quietly, when I saw him look up, give that rare growl- ing bark of his — one of suppressed but real fury — lower his head, and charge. Then came heavy flapping and scrambling and the wind of huge wings, as twenty or thirty great lumbering aasvogels flopped along the ground with Jock dashing furiously about among them — taking flying leaps at them as they rose, and his jaws snapping like rat-traps as he missed them. On a little open flat of hard-baked sand lay the stripped frame of the koodoo : the head and leg-bones were missing ; meat-stripped fragments were scattered all about ; fifty yards away among some bushes Jock found the head ; and still further afield were remains of skin and thigh-bones crushed ^\ almost beyond recognition. bfa^tr •*1M No aasvogel had done this : it was hyenas' work. The high-shouldered slinking brute, with jaws like a stone-crusher, alone cracks bones like those and bigger ones which even the lion cannot tackle. I walked back a little way and found the scene of the last stand, all harrowed bare ; but there was no spoor of koodoo or of Jock to be seen there — only prints innumerable of wild dogs, hyenas and jackals, and some traces of where the carcase, no doubt already half eaten, had been dragged by them in the effort to tear it asunder. Jock had several times shown that he strongly objected to any interference with his quarry ; other dogs, kaffirs, and even white men, had suffered or been badly scared for rashly laying hands on what he had pulled down. Without any doubt he had expected to find the koodoo there and had dealt with the aas- vogels as trespassers ; otherwise he would not have tackled them without word from me. It was also sure that until past midnight he had been there with the koodoo, watching or fighting. Then when had the hyenas and wild-dogs come ? That was the ques- tion I would have given much to have had answered. But only Jock knew that ! I looked at him. The mane on his neck and shoulders which had risen at the sight of the vultures was not flat yet ; he was sniffing about slowly and care- fully on the spoor of the hyenas and wild dogs ; and he looked ' fight ' all over. But what it all meant was beyond me ; I could only guess — just as you will — what had happened out in the silent ghostly bush that night. JOCK had learned one very clever trick in pulling down wounded animals. It often happens when you unexpectedly upon game that they are off before you see them, and the only chance you have of getting anything is with a running shot. If they go straight from you the shot is not a very difficult one, although you see nothing but the lifting and falling hind-quarters as they canter away ; and a common result of such a shot is the breaking of one of the hind- legs between the hip and the hock. Jock made his discovery while following a rietbuck which I had wounded in this way. He had made several tries at its nose andjjjthroat, but the buck was going too strongly and was out of reach ; moreover it would not stop or turn when he headed it, but charged straight on, bounding over him. In trying once more for the throat he cannoned against the buck's shoulder and 1 80 was sent rolling yards away. This seemed to madden him : racing up behind he flew at the dangling leg, caught it at the shin, and thrusting his feet well out, simply dragged until the buck slowed down, and then began furiously tugging sideways. The crossing of the legs brought the wounded animal down immediately and Jock had it by the throat before it could rise again. Every one who is good at anything has some favourite method or device of his own : that was Jock's. It may have come to him, as it comes to many, by acci- dent ; but having once got it, he perfected it and used it whenever it was possible. Only once he made a mistake ; and he paid for it — very nearly with his life. He had already used this device successfully several times, but so far only with the smaller buck. This day he did what I should have thought to be impossible for a dog of three or four times his size. I left the scene of torn carcase and crunched bones, consumed by regrets and disappointment ; each fresh detail only added to my feeling of disgust, but Jock did not seem to mind ; he jumped out briskly as soon as I started walking in earnest, as though he recognised that we were making a fresh start, and he began to look forward immediately. The little bare flat where the koodoo had fallen for the last time was at the head of one of those depressions which collect the waters of the summer floods and, changing gradually into shallow valleys, are eventually scoured out and become the dongas — dry in winter but full charged with muddy flood in summer — which drain the Bushveld to its rivers. Here and there where an impermeable rock formation crosses these 181 channels there are deep pools which, except in years of drought, last all through the winter ; and these are the drinking-places of the game. I followed this one down for a couple of miles without any definite purpose until the sight of some greener and denser wild figs suggested that there might be water, and perhaps a rietbuck or a duiker near by. As we reached the trees Jock showed unmistakable signs of interest in something, and with the utmost caution I moved from tree to tree in the shady grove towards where it seemed the water-hole might be. There were bushy wild plums flanking the grove, and beyond them the ordinary scattered thorns. As I reached this point, and stopped to look out between the bushes on to the more open ground, a koodoo cow walked quietly up the slope from the water, but before there was time to raise the rifle her easy stride had carried her behind a small mimosa tree. I took one quick step out to follow her up and found myself face to face at less than a dozen yards with a grand koodoo bull. It is impossible to convey in words any real idea of the scene and how things happened. Of course, it was only for a fraction of a second that we looked straight into each other's eyes ; then, as if by magic, he was round and going from me with the overwhelm- ing rush of speed and strength and weight combined. Yet it is the first sight that remains with me : the proud head, the huge spiral horns, and the wide soft staring eyes — before the wildness of panic had stricken them. The picture seems photographed on eye and brain, never to be forgotten. A whirlwind of 182 dust and leaves marked his course, and through it I fired, unsteadied by excitement and hardly able to see. Then the right hind-leg swung out and the great creature sank for a moment, almost to the ground ; and the sense of triumph, the longed for and unexpected success, ' went to my head ' like a rush of blood. There had been no time to aim, and the shot — a real snap shot — was not at all a bad one. It was after that that the natural effect of such a meeting and such a chance began to tell. Thinking it all out beforehand does not help much, for things never happen as they are expected to ; and even months of practice among the smaller kinds will not ensure a steady nerve when you just come face to face with big game — there seems to be too much at stake. I fired again as the koodoo recovered himself, but he was then seventy or eighty yards away and partly hidden at times by trees and scrub. He struck up the slope, following the line of the troop through the scattered thorns, and there, running hard and dropping quickly to my knee for steadier aim, I fired again and again — but each time a longer shot and more obscured by the intervening bush ; and no tell- tale thud came back to cheer me on. Forgetting the last night's experience, forgetting everything except how we had twice chased and twice lost them, seeing only another and the grandest prize slipping away, I sent Jock on and followed as fast as I could. Once more the koodoo came in sight — just a chance at four hundred yards as he reached an open 183 ,' space on rising ground. Jock was already closing up, but still unseen, and the noble old fellow turned full broadside to me as he stopped to look back. Once more I knelt, gripping hard and holding my breath to snatch a moment's steadiness, and fired ; but I missed Jagain, and as the bullet struck under him he plunged forward and disappeared over the rise at the moment that Jock, dashing out from the scrub, reached his heels. The old Martini carbine had one bad fault ; even I could not deny that ; years of rough and careless treatment in all sorts of weather — for it was only a discarded old Mounted Police weapon — had told on it, and both in barrel and breech it was well pitted with rust scars. One result of this was that it was always jamming, and unless the cartridges were kept well greased the empty shells would stick and the ejector fail to work ; and this was almost sure to happen when the carbine became hot from quick firing. It jammed now, and fearing to lose sight of the chase I dared not stop a second, but ran on, struggling from time to time to wrench the breach open. Reaching the place where they had disap- peared, I saw with intense relief and excite- ment Jock and the koodoo having it out less than a hundred yards away. The koodoo's leg was broken right up in the ham, and it was a terrible handicap for an animal so big and heavy, but his nimbleness and quick- ness were astonishing. Using the sound hind-leg as a pivot he swung round, always facing his enemy; Jock was in and out, here, there and everywhere, as a buzzing fly torments one on a hot day ; and 184 indeed, to the koodoo just then he was the fly and nothing more; he could only annoy his big enemy, and was playing with his life to do it. Sometimes he tried to get round ; sometimes pretended to - charge straight in, stopping himself with all four feet spread — just out of reach; then like a red streak he would fly through the air with a snap for the koodoo's nose. It was a fight for life and a grand sight ; for the koodoo, in spite of his wound, easily held his own. No doubt he had fought out many a life and death struggle to win and hold his place as lord of the herd and knew every trick of attack and defence. Maybe too he was blazing with anger and contempt for this persistent little gad-fly that worried him so and kept out of reach. Sometimes he snorted and feinted to charge ; at other times backed slowly, giving way to draw the enemy on ; then with a sudden lunge the great horns swished like a scythe with a tremendous reach out, easily covering the spot where Jock had been a fraction of a second before. There were pauses too in which he watched his tormentor steadily, with occasional impatient shakes of the head, or, raising it to full height, towered up a monument of splendid and contemptuous indifference, looking about with big angry but unfrightened eyes for the herd — his herd — that had deserted him ; or with a slight toss of his head he would walk limpingly forward, forcing the ignored Jock before him ; then, inter- rupted and annoyed by a flying snap at his nose, he would spring forward and strike with the sharp cloven fore-foot — zip-zip-zip — at Jock as he landed. Any 185 one of the vicious flashing stabs would have pinned him to the earth and finished him ; but Jock was never there. Keeping what cover there was I came up slowly behind them, struggling and using all the force I dared, short of smashing the lever, to get the empty cartridge out. At last one of the turns in the fight brought me in view, and the koodoo dashed off again. For a little way the pace seemed as great as ever, but it soon died away ; the driving power was gone ; the strain and weight on the one sound leg and the tripping of the broken one were telling ; and from that on I was close enough to see it all. In the first rush the koodoo seemed to dash right over Jock — the swirl of dust and leaves and the bulk of the koodoo hiding him ; then I saw him close abreast, looking up at it and making furious jumps for its nose, alter- nately from one side and the other, as they raced along together. The koodoo holding its nose high and well forward, as they do when on the move, with the horns thrown back almost horizontally, was out of his reach and galloped heavily on completely ignoring his attacks. There is a suggestion of grace and poise in the movement of the koodoo bull's head as he gallops through the bush which is one of his distinctions above the other antelopes. The same supple balancing movement that one notes in the native girls bearing their calabashes of water upon their heads is seen in the neck of the koodoo, and for the same reason : the movements of the body are softened into mere 1 86 undulations, and the head with its immense spiral horns seems to sail along in voluntary company — indeed almost as though it were bearing the body below. At the fourth or fifth attempt by Jock a spurt from the koodoo brought him cannoning against its shoulder, and he was sent rolling unnoticed yards away. He scrambled instantly to his feet, but found himself again behind: it may have been this fact that inspired the next attempt, or perhaps he realised that attack in front was useless; for this time he went determinedly for the broken leg. It swung about in wild eccentric ^ curves, but at the third or fourth attempt he got it and hung on ; and with all fours spread he dragged along the ground. The first startled spring of the koodoo jerked him into the air ; but there was no let go now, and although dragged along the rough ground and dashed about among the scrub, sometimes swinging in the air, and sometimes sliding on his back, he pulled from side to side in futile attempts to throw the big animal. Ineffectual and even hopeless as it looked at first, Jock's attacks soon began to tell ; the koodoo made wild efforts to get at him, but with every turn he turned too, and did it so vigorously that the staggering animal swayed over and had to plunge violently to recover its balance. So they turned, this way and that, until a wilder plunge swung Jock off his feet, throwing the broken leg across the other one; then, with feet firmly planted, Jock tugged again, and the koodoo trying to regain its footing was tripped by the crossed legs and came down with a crash. As it fell Jock was round and fastened on the nose J but it was no duiker, impala or rietbuck that he had to deal with this time. The koodoo gave a snort of indignation and shook its head : as a terrier shakes a rat, so it shook Jock, whipping the ground with his swinging body, and with another indignant snort and toss of the head flung him off, sending him skidding along the ground on his back. The koodoo had fallen on the wounded leg and failed to rise with the first effort ; Jock while still slithering along the ground on his back was tearing at the air with his feet in his mad haste to get back to the attack, and as he scrambled up, he raced in again with head down and the little eyes black with fury. He was too mad to be wary, and. my heart stood still as the long horns went round with a swish ; one black point seemed to pierce him through and through, showing a foot out the other side, and a jerky twist of the great head sent him twirling like a tip-cat eight or ten feet up in the air. It had just missed him, passing under his stomach next to the hind-legs ; but, until he dropped with a thud and, tearing and scrambling to his feet, he raced in again, I felt certain he had been gored through. The koodoo was up again then. I had rushed ' in with rifle clubbed, with the wild idea of stunning it before it could rise, but was met by the lowered horns and unmistakable signs of charging, and beat a retreat quite as speedy as my charge. It was a running fight from that on : the instant the koodoo turned to go Jock was on to the leg again, 188 and nothing could shake his hold. I had to keep at a respectful distance, for the bull was still good for a furious charge, even with Jock hanging on, and eyed me in the most unpromising fashion when- ever I attempted to head it off or even to come close up. The big eyes were blood-shot then, but there was no look of fear in them — they blazed with baffled rage. Impossible as it seemed to shake Jock off or to get away from us, and in spite of the broken leg and loss of blood, the furious attempts to beat us off did not slacken. It was a desperate running fight, and right bravely he fought it to the end. Partly barring the way in front were the whitened trunks and branches of several trees struck down by some storm of the year before, and running ahead of the koodoo I made for these, hoping to find a stick straight enough for a ramrod to force the empty cartridge out. As I reached them the koodoo made for me with half a dozen plunges that sent me flying off for other cover ; but the broken leg swayed over one of the branches, and Jock with feet planted against the tree hung on ; and the koodoo, turning furiously on him, stumbled, floundered, tripped, and came down with a crash amongst the crackling wood. Once more like a flash Jock was over the fallen body and had fastened on the nose — but only to be shaken worse than before. The koodoo literally flogged the ground with him, and for an instant I shut my eyes ; it seemed as if the plucky dog would be beaten into pulp. The bull tried to chop him with 189 its fore-feet, but could not raise itself enough, and at each pause Jock, with his watchful little eyes ever on the alert, dodged his body round to avoid the chopping feet without letting go his hold. Then with a snort of fury the koodoo, half rising, gave its head a wild upward sweep, and shook. As a springing rod flings a fish the koodoo flung Jock over its head and on to a low flat-topped thorn-tree behind. The dog somersaulted slowly as he circled in the air, dropped on his back in the thorns some twelve feet from the ground, and came tumbling down through the branches. Surely the tree saved him, for it seemed as if such a throw must break his back. As it was he dropped with a sickening thump ; yet even as he fell I saw again the scrambling tearing movement, as if he was trying to race back to the fight even before he reached ground. Without a pause to breathe or even to look, he was in again and trying once more for the nose. The koodoo lying partly on its side, with both hind-legs hampered by the mass of dead wood, could not rise, but it swept the clear space in front with the terrible horns, and for some time kept Jock at bay. I tried stick after stick for a ram-rod, but without at last, in desperation at seeing Jock once more hanging to the koodoo's nose, I hooked the lever on to a branch and setting my foot against the tree wrenched until the empty cartridge flew out and I went staggering backwards. In the last struggle, while I was busy with 190 success the rifle, the koodoo had moved, and it was then lying against one of the fallen trunks. The first swing to get rid of Jock had literally slogged him against the tree ; the second swing swept him under it where a bend in the trunk raised it about a foot from the ground, and gaining his foothold there Jock stood fast — there, there, with his feet planted firmly and his shoulder humped against the dead tree, he stood this tug-of- war. The koodoo with its head twisted back, as caught at the end of the swing, could put no weight to the pull; yet the wrenches it gave to free itself drew the nose and upper lip out like tough rubber and seemed to stretch Jock's neck visibly. I had to come round within a few feet of them to avoid risk of hitting Jock, and it seemed impossible for bone and muscle to stand the two or three terrible wrenches that I saw. The shot was the end; and as the splendid head dropped slowly over, Jock let go his hold. He had not uttered a sound except the grunts that were knocked out of him. JIM MAKOKEL* was Jock's ally and champion. ' There was a great deal to like and something ? to admire in Jim ; but, taking him all round, I am very much afraid that most people would consider him rather a bad lot. The fact of the matter is he belonged to another period "and other conditions. He was simply a great passionate fighting savage, and, instead of wearing the cast-off clothing of the white man and peacefully driving bullock waggons along a transport road, should have been decked in his savage finery of leopard skin and black ostrich feathers, showing off the powerful bronzed limbs and body all alive with muscle, and sharing in some wild war-dance ; or, equipped with shield and assegais, leading in some murderous fight. Yes, Jim was out of date : he should have been one of the great Chaka's fighting guard — to rise as a leader of men, or be killed on the way. He had but one argument and one answer to everything : Fight ! It was his nature, bred and born in him ; it ran in his blood and grew in his bones. He was a survival of 192 a great fighting race— there are still thousands them in the kraals of Zululand and Swaziland — but it was his fate to belong to one of the expelled families, and to have to live and work among the white men under the Boer Government of the Transvaal. In a fighting nation Jim's kraal was known as a fighting one, and the turbulent blood that ran in their veins could not settle down into a placid stream merely because the Great White Queen had laid her hand upon his people and said, " There shall be peace ! " Chaka, the ' black Napoleon ' whose wars had cost South Africa over a million lives, had died — murdered by his brother Dingaan — full of glory, lord and master wherever his impis could reach. " Dogs whom I fed at my kraal ! " he gasped, as they stabbed him. Dingaan his successor, as cruel as treacherous, had been crushed by the gallant little band of Boers under Potgieter for his fiendish massacre of Piet Retief and his little band. Panda the third of the three famous brothers — Panda the peace- ful— had come and gone ! Ketshwayo, after years of arrogant and unquestioned rule, had loosed his straining impis at the people of the Great White Queen. The awful day of 'Sandhlwana — where the 24th Regiment died almost to a man — and the fight on H'lobani Mountain had blooded the impis to madness ; but Rorke's Drift and Kambula had followed those bloody victories — each within a few hours — to tell another tale ; and at Ulundi the tides met — the black and the white. And the kingdom and might of the house of Chaka were no more. 193 N Jim had fought at 'Sandhlwana, and could tell of an umfaan sent out to herd some cattle within sight of the British camp to draw the troops out raiding while the impis crept round by hill and bush and donga behind them ; of the fight made by the red-coats as, taken in detail, they were attacked hand to hand with stabbing assegais, ten and twenty to one ; of one man in blue — a sailor — who was the last to die, fighting with his back to a waggon wheel against scores before him, and how he fell at last, stabbed in the back through the spokes of the wheel by one who had crept up behind. Jim had fought at Rorke's Drift ! Wild with lust of blood, he had gone on with the maddest of the victory-maddened lot to invade Natal and eat up the little garrison on the way. He could tell how seventy or eighty white men behind a little rampart of biscuit-tins and flour-bags had fought through the long and terrible hours, beating off five thousand of the Zulu best, fresh from a victory without parallel or precedent ; how, from the burning hospital, Sergeant Hook, V.C., and others carried sick and wounded through the flames into the laager ; how a man in black with a long beard, Father Walsh, moved about with calm face, speaking to some, helping others, carrying wounded back and cartridges forward — Father Walsh who said " Don't swear, boys : fire low ; " how Lieutenants Chard and Bromhead— V.C.s too for that day's work- led and fought, and guided and 194 heartened their heroic little band until the flour- bags and biscuit-tins stood lower than the pile of dead outside, and the Zulu host was beaten and Natal saved that day. Jim had seen all that — and Ulundi, the Day of Despair ! And he knew the power of the Great White Queen and the way that her people fight. But peace was not for him or his kraal : better any fight than no fight. He rallied to Usibepu in the fight for leadership when his King, Ketshwayo, was gone, and Jim's kraal had moved — and moved too soon : they were surrounded one night and massacred ; and Jim fought his way out, wounded and alone. Without kith or kin, cattle, king, or country, he fled to the Transvaal — to work for the first time in his life ! Waggon-boys — as the drivers were called — often acquired a certain amount of reputation on the road or in the locality where they worked ; but it was, as a rule, only a reputation as good or bad drivers. In Jim's case it was different. He was a character and had an individual reputation, which was exceptional in a Kaffir. I had better say at once that not even his best friend would claim that that reputation was a good one. He was known as the best driver, the strongest nigger, the hardest fighter, and the worst drinker on the road. His real name was Makokela, but in accordance with a common Zulu habit, it was usually abbreviated to MakokeP ! Among a certain number of the white men — of the sort who never can get any name right — he was oddly enough known as McCorkindale. I called him 195 \' Jim as a rule — Makokel', when relations were strained. The waggon-boys found it safer to use his proper name. When anything had upset him it was not con- sidered wise to take the liberty of shouting " Jim " : IJthe answer sometimes came in the shape of a hammering. Many men had employed Jim before he came to me, and all had ' sacked ' him for fighting, drinking, and the unbearable worry he caused. They told me this, and said that he gave more trouble than his work was worth. It may have been true : he certainly was a living test of patience, purpose, and management ; but, for something learnt in that way, I am glad now that Jim never ' got the sack ' from me. Why he did not, is not easy to say ; perhaps the circumstances under which he came to me and the hard knocks of an unkind fate pleaded for him. But it was not that alone : there was something in Jim himself — some- thing good and fine, something that shone out from time to time through his black skin and battered face as the soul of a real man. It was in the first season in the Bushveld that we were outspanned one night on the sand-hills over- looking Delagoa Bay among scores of other waggons dotted about in little camps — all loading or waiting for loads to transport to the Transvaal. Delagoa was not a good place to stay in, in those days : liquor was cheap and bad ; there was very little in the way of law and order ; and every one took care of himself as well as he could. The Kaffir kraals were close about the town, and the natives of the place were as rascally a lot of thieves and vagabonds as you could find any- 196 where. The result was everlasting trouble with the waggon-boys and a chronic state of war between them and the natives and the banyans or Arab traders of the place. The boys, with pockets full of wages, haggled and were cheated in the stores, and by the hawkers, and in the canteens ; and they often ended up the night with beer-drinking at the kraals or reprisals on their enemies. Every night there were fights and rob- beries : the natives or Indians would rob and half- kill a waggon-boy ; then he in turn would rally his friends, and raid and clear out the kraal or the store. Most of the waggon-boys were Zulus or of Zulu descent, and they were always ready for a fight and would tackle any odds when their blood was up. It was the third night of our stay, and the usual row was on. Shouts and cries, the beating of tom- toms, and shrill ear-piercing whistles, came from all sides ; and through it all the dull hum of hundreds of human voices, all gabbling together. Near to us there was another camp of four waggons drawn up in close order, and as we sat talking and wondering at the strange babel in the beautiful calm moonlight night, one sound was ever recurring, coming away out of all the rest with something in it that fixed our attention. It was the sound of two voices from the next waggons. One voice was a kaffir's — a great, deep, bull-throated voice ; it was not raised — it was monotonously steady and low; but it carried far, with the ring and the lingering vibration of a big gong. " Funa 'nyama, Inkos ; funa 'nyama ! " (" I want meat, Chief ; I want meat ! ") was what the kaffir's 197 voice kept repeating at intervals of a minute or two with deadly monotony and persistency. The white man's voice grew more impatient, louder, and angrier, with each refusal ; but the boy paid no heed. A few minutes later the same request would be made, supplemented now and then with, " I am hungry, Baas, I can't sleep. Meat ! Meat ! Meat ! " ; or, " Porridge and bread are for women and picaninnies. I am a man : I want meat, Baas, meat." From the white man it was, " Go to sleep, I tell you ! " " Be quiet, will you f " " Shut up that row ! " " Be still, you drunken brute, or I'll tie you up ! " and " You'll get twenty-five in a minute ! " It may have lasted half an hour when one of our party said, " That's Bob's old driver, the big Zulu. There'll be a row to-night ; he's with a foreigner chap from Natal now. New chums are always roughest on the niggers." In a flash I remembered Bob Saunderson's story of the boy who had caught the lion alive, and Bob's own words, " a real fine nigger, but a terror to drink, and always in trouble. He fairly wore me right out." A few minutes later there was a short scuffle, and the boy's voice could be heard protesting in the same deep low tone : they were tying him up to the waggon- wheel for a flogging. Others were helping the white man, but the boy was not resisting. At the second thin whistling stroke some one said, ' That's a sjambok he's using, not a nek-strop ! ': Sjambok, that will cut a bullock's hide ! At about the eighth there was a wrench that made the waggon rattle, and the deep voice was raised in protest, " Ow, Inkos ! " 198 It made me choke : it was the first I knew of such ^SKX things, and the horror of it was unbearable ; but the man who had spoken before — a good man too, straight and strong, and trusted by black and white — said, " Sonny, you must not interfere between a man and his boys here ; it's hard sometimes, but we'd not live a day if they didn't know who was baas." I think we counted eighteen ; and then everything seemed going to burst. ***** The white man looked about at the faces close to him — and stopped. He began slowly to untie the out-stretched arms, and blustered out some threats. But no one said a word ! ***** The noises died down as the night wore on, until the stillness was broken only by the desultory barking of a kaffir dog or the crowing of some awakened rooster who had mistaken the bright moonlight for the dawn and thought that all the world had overslept itself. But for me there was one other sound for which I listened into the cool of morning with the quivering sensitiveness of a bruised nerve. Some- A times it was a long catchy sigh, and/7, sometimes it broke into a groan just u audible, like the faintest rumble of ' most distant surf. Twice in the long night there came the same request to one of the boys near him, uttered in a deep clear unshaken voice and in 199 a tone that was civil but firm, and strangely moving from its quiet indifference. " Landela manzi, Umganaam ! r (" Bring water, friend ! ") was all he said ; and each time the request was so quickly answered that I had the guilty feeling of being one in a great conspiracy of silence. The hush was unreal ; the stillness alive with racing thoughts ; the darkness full of watching eyes. There is, we believe, in the heart of every being a little germ of justice which men call conscience ! If that be so, there must have been in the heart of the white man that night some uneasy movement — the first life-throb of the thought which one who had not yet written has since set down : " Though I've belted you and flayed you, By the living God that made you, You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din ! " ***** The following afternoon I received an ultimatum. We had just returned from the town when from a group of boys squatting round the fire there stood up one big fellow — a stranger — who raised his hand high above his head in Zulu fashion and gave their salute in the deep bell-like voice that there was no mistaking, " Inkos ! Bayete ! " He stepped forward, looking me all over, and announced with calm and settled conviction, " I have come to work for you ! " I said nothing. Then he rapped a chest like a big drum, and nodding his head with a sort of defiant confidence added in quaint 200 English, " My naam Makokela ! Jim MakokeP ! Yes ! My catchum lion 'live ! Makokela, me ! " He had heard that I wanted a driver, had waited for my return, and annexed me as his future l baas ' without a moment's doubt or hesitation. I looked him over. Big, broad-shouldered, loose- limbed, and as straight as an assegai ! A neck and head like a bull's ; a face like a weather-beaten rock, storm-scarred and furrowed, rugged and ugly, but steadfast, massive and strong ! So it looked then, and so it turned out : for good and for evil Jim was strong. I nodded and said, " You can come." Once more he raised his head aloft, and, simply and without a trace of surprise or gratification, said : " Yes, you are my chief, I will work for you." In his own mind it had been settled already : it had never been in doubt. Jim — when sober — was a splendid worker and the most willing of servants, and, drunk or sober, he was always respectful in an independent, upstanding, hearty kind of way. His manner was as rough and rugged as his face and character ; in his most peaceful moments it was — to one who did not understand him — almost fierce and aggressive ; but this was only skin deep ; for the childlike simplicity of the African native was in him to the full, and rude bursts of Titanic laughter came readily — laughter as strong and unrestrained as his bursts of passion. To the other boys he was what his nature and training had made him — not really a bully, but 20 1 V masterful and over-riding. He gave his orders with the curtness of a drill sergeant and the rude assurance of a "savage chief. Walking, he walked his course, giving way for none of them. At the outspan or on the road or footpath he shouldered them aside as one walks through standing corn, not aggressively but with the superb indifference of right and habit unquestioned. If one, loitering before him, blocked his way unseeing, there was no pause or step aside — just " Suka ! " (" Get out ") and a push that looked effortless enough but sent the offender staggering ; or, if he had his sticks, more likely a smart whack on the stern that was still more surprising ; and not even the compliment of a glance back from Jim as he stalked on. He was like the old bull in a herd — he walked his course ; none molested and none disputed ; the way opened before him. When sober Jim spoke Zulu ; when drunk, he broke into the strangest and most laughable med- ley of kitchen-Kaffir, bad Dutch, and worse English — the idea being, in part to consider our meaner intelligences and in part to show what an accomplished linguist he was. There was no difficulty in knowing when Jim would go wrong : he broke out whenever he got a chance, whether at a kraal, where he could always quicken the reluctant hospitality of any native, at a wayside canteen, or in a town. Money was fatal — he drank it all out ; but want of money was no security, for 202 he was known to every one and seemed to have friends everywhere ; and if he had not, he made them on the spot — annexed and overwhelmed them. From time to time you do meet people like that. The world's their oyster, and the gift of a masterful and infinite confidence opens it every time : they walk through life taking of the best as a right, and the world unquestioningly submits. I had many troubles with Jim, but never on account of white men : drunk or sober, there was never trouble there. It may have been Rorke's Drift and Ulundi that did it ; but whatever it was, the question of black and white was settled in his mind for ever. He was respectful, yet stood upright with the rough dignity of an unvanquished spirit ; but on the one great issue he never raised his hand or voice again. His troubles all came from drink, and the exasperation was at times almost unbearable — so great, indeed, that on many occasions I heartily repented ever having taken him on. Warnings were useless, and punish- ment— well, the shiny new skin that made patterns in lines and stars and crosses on his back for the rest of his life made answer for always upon that point. The trials and worries were often great indeed. The trouble began as soon as we reached a town, and he had a hundred excuses for going in, and a hundred more for not coming out : he had some one to see, boots to be mended, clothes to buy, or medicine to get — the only illness I ever knew him have was ' a pain inside,' and the only medicine wanted — grog ! — some one owed him money — a stock excuse, 203 and the idea of Jim, always penniless and always in debt, posing as a creditor never failed to raise a laugh, and he would shake his head with a half-fierce half- sad disgust at the general scepticism and his failure to convince me. Then he had relations in every town ! Jim, the sole survivor of his fighting kraal, produced ' blulus,' * babas,' ' sisteles,' and even ' mamas,' in profusion, and they died just before we reached the place, as regularly as the office-boy's aunt dies before Derby Day, and with the same consequence — he had to go to the funeral. The first precaution was to keep him at the waggons and put the towns and canteens * out of bounds ' ; and the last defence, to banish him entirely until he came back sober, and meanwhile set other boys to do his work, paying them his wages in cash in his presence when he returned fit for duty. " Is it as I told you ? Is it just ? " I would ask when this was done. " It is just, Inkos," he would answer with a calm dispassionate simplicity which appealed for forgiveness and confidence with far greater force than any repent- ance ; and it did so because it was genuine ; it was natural and unstudied. There was never a trace of feeling to be detected when these affairs were squared off, but I knew how he hated the treatment, and it helped a little from time to time to keep him right. The banishing of him from the waggons in order that he might go away and have it over was not a device to save myself trouble, and I did it only when it was clear that he could stand the strain no longer. 204 It was simply a choice of evils, and it seemed to me better to let him go, clearly understanding the con- ^ ditions, than drive him into breaking away with the bad results to him and the bad effects on the others of disobeying orders. It was, as a rule, far indeed from saving me trouble, for after the first bout of drinking he almost invariably found his way back to the waggons : the drink always produced a ravenous craving for meat, and when his money was gone and he had fought his fill and cleared out all opposition, he would come back to the waggons at any hour of the night, perhaps even two or three times between dark and dawn, to beg for meat. Warnings and orders had no effect whatever ; he was unconscious of everything except the overmastering craving for meat. He would come to my waggon and begin that deadly monotonous recitation, " Funa 'nyama, Inkos ! Wanta meat, Baas ! " There was a kind of hopeless determination in the tone conveying complete indifference to all consequences : meat he must have. He was perfectly respectful ; every order to be quiet or go away or go to bed was received with the formal raising of the hand aloft, the most respectful of salutations, and the assenting, " Inkos ! " but in the very next breath would come the old monotonous request, " Funa 'nyama, Inkos," just as if he was saying it for the first time. The persistency was awful — it was maddening ; and there was no remedy, for it was not the result of voluntary or even ji'j conscious effort on his part ; it was a sort of automatic Gil process, a result of his physical condition. Had he 205 known it would cost him his life, he could no more have resisted it than have resisted breathing. When the meat was there I gave it, and he would sit by the fire for hours eating incredible quantities — cutting it off in slabs and devouring it when not much more than warmed. But it was not always possible to satisfy him in that way ; meat was expensive in the towns and often we had none at all at the waggons. Then the night became one long torment : the spells of rest might extend from a quarter of an hour to an hour ; then from the dead sleep of downright weariness I would be roused by the deep far-reaching voice ; " Funa 'nyama, Inkos " wove itself into my dreams, and waking I would find Jim standing beside me remorselessly urging the same request in Zulu, in broken English, and in Dutch — " My wanta meat, Baas," "Wil fleisch krij. Baas," and the old, old, hatefully familiar explanation of the difference between " man's food " and " picanins" food," interspersed with grandiose declarations that he was " Makokela — Jim Makokel'," who " catchum lion 'live." Sometimes he would expand this into comparisons between himself and the other boys, much to their disadvantage ; and on these occasions he invariably worked round to his private grievances, and expressed his candid opinions of Sam. Sam was the boy whom I usually set to do Jim's neglected work. He was a ' mission boy,' that is a Christian kaffir — very proper in his behaviour, but a weakling and not much good at work. Jim would enumerate all Sam's shortcomings ; how he got his oxen mixed up on dark nights and could not pick them 206 out of the herd — a quite unpardonable offence ; how he stuck in the drifts and had to be ' double-spanned ' and pulled out by Jim ; how he once lost his way in the bush ; and how he upset the waggon coming down the Devil's Shoot. Jim had once brought down the Berg from Spitzkop | a loaded waggon on which there was a cottage piano packed standing upright. The road was an awful one, it is true, and few drivers could have handled so top-heavy a load without capsizing — he had received a bansela for his skill — but to him the feat was one without parallel in the history of waggon driving ; and when drunk he usually coupled it with his other great achieve- ment of catching a lion alive. His contempt for Sam's misadventure on the Devil's Shoot was therefore great, and to it was added resentment against Sam's respectability and superior education, which the latter was able to rub in in safety by ostentatiously reading his Bible aloud at nights as they sat round the fire. Jim was a heathen, and openly affirmed his conviction that a Christian kaffir was an impostor, a bastard, and a hypocrite — a thing not to be trusted under any circumstances whatever. The end of his morose outburst was always the same. When his detailed indictment of Sam was completed he would wind up with, " My catchum lion 'live. My bling panyanna fon Diskop (I bring piano from Spitzkop). My naam Makokela : Jim Makokel'. Sam no good ; Sam leada Bible (Sam reads the Bible). Sam no good ! " The intensity of conviction and the gloomy disgust put into the last reference to Sam are not to be expressed in words. 207 Where warning and punishment availed nothing threats would have been worse than foolish. Once, when he had broken bounds and left the waggons, I threatened that if he did it again I would tie him up, since he was like a dog that could not be trusted ; and I did it. He had no excuse but the old ones ; some one, he said, had brought him liquor to the waggons and he had not known what he was doing. The truth was that the craving grew so with the nearer prospect of drink that by hook or by crook he would find some one, a passer- by or a boy from other waggons, to fetch some for him ; and after that nothing could hold him. If Jim ever wavered in his loyalty to me, it must have been the day I tied him up : he must have been very near hating me then. I had caught him as he was leaving the waggons and still sober ; brought him back and told him to sit under his own waggon where I would tie him up like a dog. I took a piece of sail twine, tied it to one wrist, and, fastening the other end to the waggon-wheel, left him. A kaffir's face becomes, when he wishes it, quite inscrutable — as expressionless as a blank wall. But there are exceptions to every rule ; and Jim's stoicism was not equal to this occasion. The look of unspeak- able disgust and humiliation on his face was more than I could bear with comfort ; and after half an hour or so in the pillory I released him. He did not say a word, but, heedless of the hot sun, rolled himself in his blankets and, sleeping or not, never moved for the rest of the day. __=^!^^^^^5—=s=^-r 208 JOCK disliked kaffirs : so did Jim. To Jim there were three big divisions of the human race — white men, Zulus, and niggers. Zulu, old1 or young, was greeted by him as equal, friend and comrade ; but the rest were trash, and he ^ cherished a most particular contempt for the Shan- gaans and Chopis, as a lot who were just about good enough for what they did — that is, work in the mines. They could neither fight nor handle animals ; and the sight of them stirred him to contempt and pricked him to hostilities. It was not long before Jim discovered this bond of sympathy between him and Jock, and I am perfectly sure that the one bad habit which Jock was never cured of was due to deliberate encouragement from Jim on every possible opportunity. It would have been a matter of difficulty and patience in any case to teach Jock not to unnecessarily attack strange kaffirs. It was very important that he should have nothing to do with them, and should treat them with suspicion as possible enemies and keep them off the premises. I was glad that he did it by his own choice and instinct ; 209 o but this being so, it needed all the more intelligence and training to get him to understand just where to draw the line. Jim made it worse ; he made the already difficult task practically impossible by egging Jock on ; and what finally made it quite impossible was the extremely funny turn it took, which caused such general amusement that every one joined in the conspiracy and backed up Jock. Every one knows how laughable it is to see a person dancing about like a mad dervish, with legs and arms going in all directions, dodging the rushes of a dog, es- pecially if the spectator knows that the dog will not do any real harm and is more intent on scaring his victim, just for the fun of the thing, than on hunting him. Well, that is how it began. As far as I know the first incident arose out of the intrusion of a strange kaffir at one of the outspans. Jock objected, and he was forcing a scared boy back step by step — doing the same feinting rushes that he practised with game — until the boy tripped over a camp stool and sat plump down on the three- legged pot of porridge cooking at the camp fire. I did not see it ; for Jock was, as usual, quite silent — a feature which always had a most terrifying effect on? his victims : it was a roar like a lion's from Jim that roused me. Jock was standing off with his feet on the move forwards and backwards, his head on one side and his face full of interest, as if he would dearly love another romp in; and the waggon-boys were reeling and rolling about the grass, helpless with laughter. 210 A dog is just as quick as a child to find out when he can take liberties ; he knows that laughter and serious disapproval do not go together ; and Jock with the backing of the boys thoroughly enjoyed him- self. That was how it began ; and by degrees it developed into the great practical joke. The curious thing to note was the way in which Jock entered into the spirit of the thing, and how he improved and varied his methods. It was never certain what he would do ; sometimes it would be a wild romp, as it was that day ; at other times he would stalk the intruder in the open, much as a pointer approaches his birds in the last strides, and with eyes fixed steadily and mouth tightly pursed up, he would move straight at him with infinite slowness and deliberation until, the boy's nerve failed, and he turned and ran. At other times again he trotted out as if he had seen nothing, and then stopped suddenly. If the boy came on, Jock waited ; but if there was any sign of fear or hesitation, he lowered his head, humped up his shoulders — as a stagey boxer does when he wants to appear ferocious — and gave his head a kind of chuck forward, as if in the act of charging : this seldom failed to shake the intruder's nerve, and as soon as he turned or backed, the romp began. Still another trick was to make a round in the bush and come up behind unobserved, and then make a furious dash with rumbly gurgly growls ; the startled boy invariably dropped all he had, breaking into a series of fantastic capers and excited yells, to the huge delight of Jim and the others. 211 But these things were considered trifles : the piece that always ' brought the house down ' was the Shangaan gang trick, which on one occasion nearly got us all into serious trouble. The natives going to or from the gold-fields travel in gangs of from four or five to forty or fifty ; they walk along in Indian file, and even when going across the veld or walking on wide roads they wind along singly in the footsteps of the leader. What prompted the dog to start this new game I cannot imagine : certainly no one could have taught it to him ; and as well as one could judge, he did it entirely * off his own bat,' without anything to lead up to or suggest it. One day a gang of about thirty of these Shangaans, each carrying his load of blankets, clothing, pots, billies and other valuables on his head, was coming along a footpath beside the road some twenty yards away from the waggons. Jock strolled out and sat himself down in the middle of the path ; it was the way he did it and his air, utterly devoid of hostile or even serious purpose, that attracted my attention without rousing any doubts. The leader of the gang, however, was suspicious and shied off wide into the veld; he passed in a semicircle round Jock, a good ten yards away, and came safely back to the path again, and the dog with his nose in the air merely eyed him with a look of humorous interest and mild curi- osity. The second kaffir made the loop shorter, and the third shorter still, as they found their alarm and suspicions unjustified ; and so on, as each came along, the loop was lessened until they passed in safety almost 212 " \VlTH HIS NOSE IN THE AIR EYED THEM WITH I MILD CURIOSITY brushing against Jock's nose. And still he never budged — never moved — except, as each boy approached, to look up at his face and, slowly turning his head, follow him round with his eyes until he re-entered the path. There was something extremely funny •• in the mechanical regularity with which his head } swung round. It was so funny that not only the boys at the waggons noticed it and laughed ; the un- suspecting Shangaans themselves shared the joke. When half a dozen had passed round in safety, com- ments followed by grunts of agreement or laughter ran along the line, and then, as each fresh boy passed and Jock's calm inspection was repeated, a regular chorus of guffaws and remarks broke out. The long heavy bundles on their heads made turning round a slow process, so that, except for the first half-dozen, they were content to enjoy what they saw in front and to know by the laughter from behind that the joke had been repeated all down the line. The last one walked calmly by ; but as he did so there came one short muffled bark, " Whoop ! " from Jock as he sprang out and nipped the unsuspect- ing Shangaan behind. The boy let out a yell that made the whole gang jump and clutch wildly at their toppling bundles, and Jock raced along the footpath, leaping, gurgling and snapping behind each one he came near, scattering them this way and that, in a romp of wild enjoyment. The shouts of the scared boys, the clatter of the tins as their bundles toppled down, the scrambling and scratching as they clawed the ground pretending to pick up stones or sticks to 213 stop his rushes, and the ridiculous rout of the thirty Shangaans in every direction, abandoning their bag- gage and fleeing from the little red enemy only just visible in the grass as he hunted and harried them, were too much for my principles and far too much for my gravity. To be quite honest, I weakened badly, and from that day on preferred to look another way when Jock sallied out to inspect a gang of Shan- gaans. Between them, Jim and Jock had beaten me. But the weakening brought its own punishment and the joke was not far from making a tragedy. Many times while lying some way off in the shade of a tree or under another waggon I heard Jim, all unconscious of my presence, call in a low deep voice, almost a whisper, " Jock, Jock ; kaffirs ; Shangaans ! 3: Jock's head was up in a moment, and a romp of some sort followed unless I intervened. Afterwards, when Jock was deaf, Jim used to reach out and pull his foot or throw a handful of sand or a bunch of grass to rouse him, and when Jock's head switched up Jim's big black fist pointing to their common enemy was quite enough. Jim had his faults, but getting others into mischief while keeping out of it himself was not one of them. If he egged Jock on, he was more than ready to stand by him, and on these occasions his first act was to jump for his sticks, which were always pretty handy, and lie in readiness to take a hand if any of the gang should use what he considered unfair means of defence, such as throwing stones and kerries or using assegais or knives ; and Jim — the friend of Jock, the avoided 214 enemy of all Shangaans, aching for an excuse to take a hand in the row himself — was not, I fear, a very impartial judge. There was a day outside Barberton which I remem- ber well. We were to start that evening, and knowing that if Jim got into the town he might not be back and fit to work for days, I made him stay with the waggons. He lay there flat out under hi> waggon with his chin resting on his arms, staring steadily at the glistening corrugated iron roofs of the town, as morose and unapproachable as a surly old watch- dog. From the tent of my waggon I saw him raise his head, and following his glance, picked out a row of bundles against the sky-line. Presently a long string of about fifty time-expired mine-boys came in sight. Jim on his hands and knees scrambled over to where Jock lay asleep, and shook him ; for this incident occurred after Jock had become deaf. " Shangaans, Jock ; Shangaans ! Kill them ; kill, kill, kill ! " said Jim in gusty ferocious whispers. It must have seemed as if Fate had kindly provided an outlet for the rebellious rage and the craving for a fight that were consuming him. As Jock trotted out to head them off Jim reached up to the buck-rails and pulled down his bundle of sticks and lay down like a tiger on the spring. I had had a lot of trouble with Jim that day, and this annoyed me ; but my angry call to stop was unavailing. Jim, pretending not to understand, made no attempt to stop Jock, but contented himself with calling to him to come back ; and Jock, stone deaf, trotted evenly 215 along with his head, neck, back, and tail, all level — an old trick of Jess's which generally meant trouble for some one. Slowing down as he neared the Shan- he walked quietly on until he headed off the leader, and there he stood across the path. It was just the same as before : the boys, finding that he did nothing, merely stepped aside to avoid bumping against him. They were boys taking back their pur- chases to their kraals to dazzle the eyes of the ignorant with the wonders of civilisation — gaudy blankets, collec- tions of bright tin billies and mugs, tin plates, three- legged pots, clothing, hats, and even small tin trunks painted brilliant yellow, helped to make up their huge bundles. The last boy was wearing a pair of Royal Artillery trousers ; and I have no doubt he regarded it ever afterwards as nothing less than a calamity that they were not safely stowed away in his bundle — for a kaffir would sacrifice his skin rather than his new pants any day. It was from the seat of these too ample bags that Jock took a good mouthful ; and it was the boy's frantic jump, rather than Jock's tug, that made the piece come out. The sudden fright and the attempts to face about quickly caused several downfalls ; the clatter of these spread the panic ; and on top of it all came Jock's charge along the broken line, and the excited shouts of those who thought they were going to be worried to death. Jim had burst into great bellows of laughter and excited — but quite superfluous — shouts of encourage- ment to Jock, who could not have heard a trumpet at ten yards. 216 But there came a very unexpected change. One big Shangaan had drawn from his bundle a brand new side-axe : I saw the bright steel head flash, as he held it menacingly aloft by the short handle and marched towards Jock. There was a scrambling bound from under the waggon, and Jim, with face distorted and grey with fury, rushed out. In his right hand he brandished a tough stout fighting stick; in his left I was horrified to see an assegai, and well I knew that, with the fighting fury on him, he would think nothing of using it. The Shangaan saw him coming, and stopped ; then, still facing Jim, and with the axe raised and feinting repeatedly to throw it, he began to back away. Jim never paused for a second : he came straight on with wild leaps and blood-curdling yells in Zulu fighting fashion and ended with a bound that seemed to drop him right on top of the other. The stick came down with a whirr and a crash that crimped every nerve in my body ; and the Shangaan dropped like a log. I had shouted myself hoarse at Jim, but he heard or heeded nothing ; and seizing a stick from one of the other boys I was already on the way to stop him, but before I got near him he had wrenched the axe from the kicking boy and, without pause, gone head- long for the next Shangaan he saw. Then everything went wrong : the more I shouted and the harder I ran, the worse the row. The Shangaans seemed to think I had joined in and was directing operations against them : Jim seemed to be inspired to wilder madness by my shouts and gesticulations ; and Jock — well, Jock at any rate had not the remotest doubt 217 as to what he should do. When he saw me and Jim in full chase behind him, his plain duty was to go in for all he was worth ; and he did it. It was half an hour before I got that mad savage back. He was as unmanageable as a runaway horse. He had walloped the majority of the fifty himself ; he had broken his own two sticks and used up a number of theirs ; on his forehead there was a small cut and a lump like half an orange ; and on the back of his head another cut left by the sticks of the enemy when eight or ten had rallied once in a half-hearted attempt to stand against him. It was strange how Jim, even in that mood, yielded to the touch of one whom he regarded as his " Inkos." I could not have forced him back : in that maniac condition it would have needed a powerful combina- tion indeed to bring him back against his will. He yielded to the light grip of my hand on his wrist and walked freely along with me ; but a fiery bounding vitality possessed him, and with long springy strides he stepped out — looking excitedly about, turning to right and left or even right about, and stepping sideways or even ^backwards to keep pace with me — yet always yielding the imprisoned arm so as not to pull me about. And all the time there came from him a torrent of excited gabble in pure Zulu, too fast and too high-flown for me to follow, which was punctuated and paragraphed by bursting allusions to ' dogs of Shangaans,' ' axes,' ' sticks,' and ' Jock.' 218 Near the waggons we passed over the ' battle- field,' and a huge guffaw of laughter broke from Jim as we came on the abandoned impedimenta of the defeated enemy. Several of the bundles had burst open from the violence of the fall, and the odd collec- tions of the natives were scattered about ; others had merely shed the outside luggage of tin billies, beakers, pans, boots and hats. Jim looked on it all as the spoils of war, wanting to stop and gather in his loot there and then, and when I pressed on, he shouted to the other drivers to come out and collect the booty. But my chief anxiety was to end the wretched esca- pade as quickly as possible and get the Shangaans on their way again ; so I sent Jim back to his place under the waggon, and told the cook-boy to give him the rest of my coffee and half a cup of sugar to provide him with something else to think of and to calm him down. After a wait of half an hour or so, a head appeared just over the rise, and then another and another, at irregular intervals and at various points : they were scouting very cautiously before venturing back again. I sat in the tent-waggon out of sight and kept quiet, hoping that in a few minutes they would gain con- fidence, collect their goods, and go their way again. Jim, lying flat under the waggon, was much lower than I was, and — continuing his gabble to the other boys — saw nothing. Unfortunately he looked round just as a scared face peered cautiously over the top of an ant-heap. The temptation was, I suppose, irresistible : he scrambled to his knees with a pretence of starting 219 afresh and let out one ferocious yell that made my hair stand up ; and in that second every head bobbed down and the field was deserted once more. If this went on there could be but one ending: the police would be appealed to, Jim arrested, and I should spend days hanging about the courts waiting for a trial from which the noble Jim would probably emerge with three months' hard labour ; so I sallied out as my own herald of peace. But the position was more difficult than it looked : as soon as the Shan- gaans saw my head appearing over the rise, they scattered like chaff before the wind, and ran as if they would never stop. They evidently took me for the advance guard in a fresh attack, and from the way they ran seemed to suspect that Jim and Jock might be doing separate flanking movements to cut them off. I stood upon an ant-heap and waved and called, but each shout resulted in a fresh spurt and each move- ment only made them more suspicious. It seemed a hopeless case, and I gave it up. On the way back to the waggons, however, I thought of Sam — Sam, with his neatly patched European clothes, with the slouchy heavy-footed walk of a nigger in boots, with his slack lanky figure and serious timid face ! Sam would surely be the right envoy ; even the routed Shangaans would feel that there was nothing to fear there. But Sam was by no means anxious to earn laurels ; he was clearly of the poet's view that " the paths of glory lead but to the grave ; " and it was a poor-looking weak-kneed and much dejected scarecrow that dragged its way reluctantly out into 220 the veld to hold parley with the routed enemy that day. At the first mention of Sam's name Jim had twitched round with a snort, but the humour of the situation tickled him when he saw the too obvious reluctance with which his rival received the honour conferred on him. Between rough gusts of laughter Jim rained on him crude ridicule and rude comments ; and Sam slouched off with head bent, relieving his heart with occasional clicks and low murmurs of disgust. How far the new herald would have ventured, if he had not received most unexpected encouragement, is a matter for speculation. Jim's last shout was to advise him not to hide in an ant-bear hole ; but, to Sam's relief, the Shangaans seemed to view him merely as a decoy, even more dangerous than I was ; for, as no one else appeared, they had now no idea at all from which quarter the expected attack would come. They were widely scattered more than half a mile away when Sam came in sight ; a brief pause followed in which they looked anxiously around, and then, after some aimless dashes about like a startled troop of buck, they seemed to find the line of flight and headed off in a long string down the valley towards the river. Now, no one had ever run away from Sam before, and the exhilarating sight so encouraged him that he marched boldly on after them. Goodness knows when, if ever, they would have stopped, if Sam had not met a couple of other natives whom the Shan- gaans had passed and induced them to turn back and reassure the fugitives. 221 Y, An hour later Sam came back in mild triumph, at the head of the Shangaan gang ; and, ' clothed in a little brief authority,' stood guard and superintended while they collected their scattered goods — all except the axe that caused the trouble. That they failed to find. The owner may have thought it wise to make no claim on me ; Sam, if he remembered it, would have seen the Shangaans and all their belongings burned in a pile rather than raise so delicate a question with Jim ; I had forgotten all about it — being anxious only to end the trouble and get the Shangaans off ; and that villain Jim ' lay low.' At the first outspan from Barberton next day I saw him carving his mark on the handle, unabashed, under my very nose. The next time Jim got drunk he added something to his opinion of Sam : " Sam no good : Sam leada Bible ! Shangaan, Sam ; Shangaan ! " THE last day of each trip in the Bush- veld was always a day of trial and hard work for man and beast. The Berg stood up before us like an impassable barrier. Looked at* from below the prospect was despairing — from above, appalling. There was no road that the eye could follow. Here and there a broad furrowed streak of red soil straight down some steep grass-covered spur was visible : it looked like a mountain timber- slide or the scour of some tropical storm ; and that was all one could see of it from below. For perhaps a week the towering bulwarks of the High- veld were visible as we toiled along — at first only in occasional hazy glimpses, then daily clearer higher and grander, as the great barrier it was. After many hard treks through the broken foot- hills, with their rocky sideling slopes and boulder- strewn torrent beds, at last the Berg itself was reached. There, on a flat-topped terrace-like spur where the last outspan was, we took breath, halved our loads, double- spanned, and pulled ourselves together for the last big climb. 223 From there the scoured red streaks stood out re- vealed as road tracks — for, made road there was none ; from there, lines of whitish rock and loose stones and big boulders, that one had taken for the beds of mountain torrents, stood revealed as bits of ' road,' linking up some of the broken sections of the route ; but even from there not nearly all the track was visible. The bumpy rumbling and heavy clattering of waggons on the rocky trail, the shouts of drivers and the crack of whips, mixed with confusing echoes from some- where above, set one puzzling and searching higher still. Then in unexpected places here and there other waggons would be seen against the shadowy mountains, creeping up with infinite labour foot by foot, tacking at all sorts of angles, winding by undetected spur and slope and ridge towards the summit — the long spans of oxen and the bulky loads, dwarfed into miniature by the vast background, look- ing like snails upon a face of rock. To those who do not know, there is not much difference between spans of oxen ; and the driving of them seems merely a matter of brute strength in arm and lung. One span looks like another ; and the weird unearthly yells of the drivers, the cracks — like rifle-shots — of the long lashes, and the hum and thud of the more cruel doubled whip, seem to be all that is needed. But it is not so : heart and training in the cattle, skill and judgment in the driver, are needed there; for the Berg is a searching test of man and beast. Some, double-spanned and relieved of half their 224 three-ton loads, will stick for a whole day where the pull is steepest, the road too narrow to swing the spans, and the curves too sharp to let the fifteen couples of bewildered and despairing oxen get a straight pull ; whilst others will pass along slowly but steadily and without check, knowing what eac beast will do and stand, when to urge and when to ease it, when and where to stop them for a blow, and how to get them all leaning to the yoke, ready and willing for the ' heave together ' that is essential for restarting a heavy load against such a hill. Patience, understanding, judgment, and decision : those are the qualities it calls for, and here again the white man justifies his claim to lead and rule ; for, although they are as ten or twenty to one, there is not a native driver who can compare with the best of the white men. It was on the Berg that I first saw what a really first-class man can do. There were many waggons facing the pass that day ; portions of loads, dumped off to ease the pull, dotted the roadside ; tangles of disordered maddened spans blocked the way ; and fragments of yokes, skeys, strops, and reims, and broken disselbooms, told the tale of trouble. Old Charlie Roberts came along with his two waggons. He was ' old ' with us — being nearly fifty ; he was also stout and in poor health. We buried him at Pilgrim's Rest a week later : the cold, clear air on top of the Berg that night, when he brought the last load up, brought out the fever. It was his last trek. 225 P He walked slowly up past us, to " take a squint at things," as he put it, and see if it was possible to get past the stuck waggons ; and a little later he started, making three loads of his two and going up with single spans of eighteen oxen each, because the other waggons, stuck in various places on the road, did not give him room to work double spans. To us it seemed madness to attempt with eighteen oxen a harder task than we and others were essaying with thirty ; we would have waited until the road ahead was clear. We were half-way up when we saw old Charlie coming along steadily and without any fuss at all. He had no second driver to help him ; he did no shouting ; he walked along heavily and with difficulty beside the span, playing the long whip lightly about as he gave the word to go or called quietly to individual oxen by name, but he did not touch them ; and when he paused to ' blow ' them he leaned heavily on his whip-stick to rest himself. We were stopped by some break in the gear and were completely blocking the road when he caught up. Any one else would have waited : he pulled out into the rough sideling track on the slope below, to pass us. Even a good span with a good driver may well come to grief in trying to pass another that is stuck — for the sight and example are demoralising — but old Charlie did not turn a hair ; he went steadily on, giving a brisker call and touching up his oxen here and there with light flicks. They used to say he could kill a fly on a front ox or on the toe of his own boot with the voorslag of his big whip. 226 " OLD CHARLIE COMING ALONG WITHOUT ANY FUSS AT ALL" The track he took was merely the scorings made by skidding waggons coming down the mountain ; it was so steep and rough there that a pull of ten yards between the spells for breath was all one could hope for ; and many were thankful to have done much less. At the second pause, as they were passing us, one of his oxen turned, leaning inwards against the chain, and looked back. Old Charlie remarked quietly, " I thought he would chuck it ; only bought him last week. He's got no heart." He walked along the span up to the shirking animal, which continued to glare back at him in a frightened way, and touched it behind with the butt of his long whip-stick to bring it up to the yoke. The ox started forward into place with a jerk, but eased back again slightly as Charlie went back to his place near the after oxen. Once more the span went on and the shirker got a smart reminder as Charlie gave the call to start, and he warmed it up well as a lesson while they pulled. At the next stop it lay back worse than before. Not one driver in a hundred would have done then what he did : they would have tried other courses first. Charlie dropped his whip quietly and out- spanned the ox and its mate, saying to me as I gave him a hand : " When I strike a rotter, I chuck him out before he spoils the others ! " In another ten minutes he and his stalwarts had left us behind. Old Charlie knew 227 his oxen — each one of them, their characters and what they could do. I think he loved them too ; at any rate, it was his care for them that day — handling them himself instead of leaving it to his boys — that killed him. Other men had other methods. Some are by nature brutal ; others, only undiscerning or im- patient. Most of them sooner or later realise that they are only harming themselves by ill-treating their own cattle ; and that is one — but only the meanest — reason why the white man learns to drive better than the native, who seldom owns the span he drives ; the better and bigger reasons belong to the qualities of race and the effects of civilisation. But, with all this, experience is as essential as ever ; a beginner has no balanced judgment, and that explains some- thing that I heard an old transport-rider say in the earliest days — something which I did not understand then, and heard with resentment and a boy's uppish scorn. " The Lord help the beginner's boys and bullocks : starts by pettin', and ends by killin'. Too clever to learn ; too young to own up ; swearin' and sloggin' all the time ; and never sets down to think until the boys are gone and the bullocks done ! " I felt hot all over, but had learned enough to keep quiet ; besides, the hit was not meant for me, although the tip, I believe, was : the hit was at some one else who had just left us — one who had been given a start before he had gained experience and, naturally, was then busy making a mess of things himself and laying 228 down the law for others. It was when the offender _ had gone that the old transport-rider took up the general question and finished his observations with a proverb which I had not heard before — perhaps he,, invented it : * Yah ! " he said, rising and stretching himself, " there's no rule for a young fool." I did not quite know what he meant, and it seemed safer not to inquire. The driving of bullocks is not an exalted occupation : it is a very humble calling indeed ; yet, if one is able to learn, there are things worth learning in that useful school. But it is not good to stay at school all one's life. Brains and character tell there as everywhere ; experience only gives them scope ; it is not a substitute. The men themselves would not tell you so ; they never trouble themselves with introspections and analyses, and if you asked one of them the secret of success, he might tell you " Commonsense and hard work," or curtly give you the maxims ' Watch it,' and ' Stick to it ' — which to him express the whole creed, and to you, I suppose, convey nothing. Among them- selves, when the prime topics of loads, rates, grass, water and disease have been disposed of, there is as much interest in talking about their own and each other's oxen as there is in babies at a mothers' meeting. Spans are compared ; individual oxen discussed in minute detail ; and the reputations of ' front oxen,' in pairs or singly, are can- vassed as earnestly as the importance 229 of the subject warrants — for, " The front oxen are half the span," they say. The simple fact is that they ' talk shop,' and when you hear them dis- cussing the characters and qualities of each individual animal you may be tempted to smile in a superior way, but it will not eventually escape you that they think and observe, and that they study their animals and reason out what to do to make the most of them ; and when they preach patience, consistency and purpose, it is the fruit of much experience, and nothing more than what the best of them practise. Every class has its world ; each one's world — how- ever small — is a whole world, and therefore a big world ; for the little things are magnified and seem big, which is much the same thing : Crusoe's island was a world to him and he got as much satisfaction out of it as Alexander or Napoleon — probably a great deal more. The little world is less complicated than the big, but the factors do not vary ; and so it may be that the simpler the calling, the more clearly apparent are the working of principles and the relations of cause and effect. It was so with us. To you, as a beginner, there surely comes a day when things get out of hand and your span, which was a good one when you bought it, goes wrong : the load is not too heavy ; the hill not too steep ; the work is not beyond them for they have done it all before ; but now no power on earth, it seems, will make them face the pull. Some jib and pull back ; some bellow and thrust across ; some stand out or swerve under the chain ; some turn tail to front, half choked by the twisted strops, the worn- 230 out front oxen turn and charge downhill ; and all are half frantic with excitement, bewilderment or terror. The constant shouting, the battle with refractory animals, the work with the whip, and the hopeless chaos and failure, have just about done you up ; and then some one — who knows — comes along, and, because you block the way where he would pass and he can see what is wrong, offers to give a hand. Dropping his whip he moves the front oxen to where the foothold is best and a straight pull is possible; then walks up and down the team a couple of times talking to the oxen and getting them into place, using his hand to prod them up without frightening them, until he has the sixteen standing as true as soldiers on parade — their excitement calmed, their confidence won, and their attention given to him. Then, one word of encouragement and one clear call to start, and the six- teen lean forward like one, the waggon lifts and heaves, and out it goes with a rattle and rush. It looks magical in its simplicity ; but no lecturer is needed to explain the magic, and if honest with yourself you will turn it over that night, and with a sense of vague discomfort it will all become clear. You may be tempted, under cover of darkness, to find a translation for * watch it ' and ' stick to it ! ' more befitting your dignity and aspirations : ' observation and reasoning,' ' patience and purpose,' will seem better ; but probably you will not say so to any one else, for fear of being laughed at. And when the new-found knowledge has risen like yeast, and is ready to froth over in advice to others, 231 certain things will be brought home to you with simple directness : that, sufficient unto the yeast is the loaf it has to make ; that, there is only one person who has got to learn from you — yourself ; and that, it is better to be still, for if you keep your knowledge to yourself you keep your ignorance from others. A marked span brands the driver. The scored bullock may be a rogue or may be a sulky obstinate brute ; but the chances are he is either badly trained or overworked, and the whip only makes matters worse ; the beginner cannot judge, and the oxen surfer. Indeed, the beginner may well fail in the task, for there are many and great differences in the temperaments and characters of oxen, just as there are in other animals or in human beings. Once in Mashonaland, when lions broke into a kraal and killed and ate two donkeys out of a mixed lot, the mules were found next day twenty miles away ; some of the oxen ran for several miles, and some stopped within a few hundred yards ; two men who had been roused by the uproar saw in the moonlight one old bullock stroll out through the gap in the kraal and stop to scratch his back with his horn ; and three others were contentedly dozing within ten yards of the half-eaten donkeys when we went to the kraal in the early morning and found out what had happened There are no two alike ! You find them nervous and lethargic, timid and bold, independent and sociable, exceptional and ordinary, willing and sulky, restless and content, staunch and faint-hearted — just like human beings. I can remember some of them now far better than many of the men known then and since : — Achmoed and Bakir, the big after- oxen who carried the disselboom contentedly \ through the trek and were spared all other work to save them for emergencies ; who, at a word, heaved together — their great backs bent like bows and their giant strength thrown in to hoist the waggon from the deepest hole and up the steepest hill ; who were the stand-by in the worst descents, lying back on their haunches to hold the waggon up when brakes could do no more ; and inseparables always — even when outspanned the two old comrades walked together. There was little Zole, contented, sociable and short of wind, looking like a fat boy on a hot day, always in distress. There was Bantom, the big red ox with the white band, lazy and selfish, with an enduring evil obstinacy that was simply incredible. There was Rooiland, the light red, with yellow eyeballs and topped horns, a fierce, wild, unapproachable unappeas- able creature, restless and impatient, always straining to start, always moaning fretfully when delayed, nervous as a young thoroughbred, aloof and unfriendly to man and beast, ever ready to stab or kick even those who handled him daily, wild as a buck, but untouched by whip and uncalled by name ; who would work with a straining, tearing impatience that there was no checking, ever ready to outpace the rest, and at the outspan standing out alone, hollow flanked and pant- ing, eyes and nostrils wide with fierceness and distress, yet always ready to start again— a miracle of intense 233 .^X3M_, vitality ! And then there was old Zwaartland, the coal-black front ox, and the best of all : the sober steadfast leader of the span, who knew his work by heart and answered with quickened pace to any call of his name ; swinging wide at every curve to avoid cutting corners ; easing up, yet leading free, at every steep descent, so as neither to rush the incline nor entangle the span ; holding his ground, steady as a rock when the big pull came, heedless of how the team swayed and strained — steadfast even when his mate gave in. He stood out from all the rest ; the massive horns — like one huge spiral pin passed through his head, eight feet from tip to tip — balancing with easy swing ; the clean limbs and small neat feet moving with the quick precision of a buck's tread ; and the large grave eyes so soft and clear and deep ! For those who had eyes to see the book lay open : there, as elsewhere ; there, as always. Jock, with his courage, fidelity and concentration, held the secrets of success ! Jim — dissolute, turbulent and savage — could yield a lesson too ; not a warning only, sometimes a crude but clear example ! The work itself was full of test and teaching ; the hard abstemious life had its daily lessons in patience and resource, driven home by every variety of means and incident on that unkindly road. And the dumb cattle — in their plodding toil, in their sufferings from drought and over-work, and in their strength and weakness — taught and tested too. There is little food for self-content when all that is best and worst comes out ; but there is much food for thought. 234 There was a day at Kruger's Post when everything seemed small beside the figure of one black front ox, who held his ground when all others failed. The waggon had sunk to the bed-plank in gluey turf, and, although the whole load had been taken off, three spans linked together failed to move it. For eight hours that day we tried to dig and pull it out, but forty-four oxen on that soft greasy flat toiled in vain. The long string of bullocks, desperate from failure and bewilderment, swayed in the middle from side to side to seek escape from the flying whips ; the un- yielding waggon held them at one end, and the front oxen, with their straining forefeet scoring the slippery surface as they were dragged backwards, strove to hold them true at the other. Seven times that day we changed, trying to find a mate who would stand with Zwaartland ; but he wore them all down. He broke their hearts and stood it out alone ! I looked at the ground afterwards : it was grooved in long parallel lines where the swaying spans had pulled him backwards, with his four feet clawing the ground in the effort to hold them true ; but he had never once turned or wavered. And there was a day at Sand River, when we saw a different picture. The waggons were empty, yet as we came up out of the stony drift, Bantom the sulky hung lazily back, dragging on his yoke and throw- ing the span out of line. Jim curled the big whip round him, without any good effect, and when the span stopped for a breather in the deep narrow road, he lay down and refused to budge. There was no reason in the world for it except 235 the animal's obstinate sulky temper. When the whip —the giraffe-hide thong, doubled into a heavy loop — produced no effect, the boys took the yoke off to see if freedom would tempt the animal to rise ! It did. At the first touch of the whip Bantom jumped up and charged them ; and then, seeing that there was nothing at all the matter, the boys inspanned him and made a fresh start — not touching him again for fear of another fit of sulks ; but at the first call on the team, down he went again. Many are the stories of cruelty to oxen, and I had never understood how human beings could be so fiendishly cruel as to do some of the things that one heard of, such as stabbing, smothering and burning cattle ; nor under what circumstances or for what reasons such acts of brutality could be perpetrated ; but what I saw that day threw some light on these questions, and, more than anything else, it showed the length to which sulkiness and obstinacy will go, and made me wonder whether the explanation was to be sought in endurance of pain through temper or in sheer incapacity to feel pain at all. This is no defence of such things ; it is a bare recital of what took place — the only scene I can recall of what would be regarded as wanton cruelty to oxen ; and to that extent it is an explanation, and nothing more ! Much greater and real cruelty I have seen done by work and punishment ; but it was due to ignorance, impatience, or — on rare occasions — uncontrollable temper ; it did not look deliberate and wanton. There were two considerations here which governed the whole case. The first was that as long as the ox 236 lay there it was impossible to move the waggon, and there was no way for the others to pass it ; the second, that the ox was free, strong and perfectly well, and all he had to do was to get up and walk. The drivers from the other waggons came up to lend a hand and clear the way so that they might get on ; sometimes three were at it together with their double whips ; and, before they could be stopped, sticks and stones were used to hammer the animal on the head and horns, along the spine, on the hocks and shins, and wherever he was supposed to have feeling ; then he was tied by the horns to the trek-chain, so that the span would drag him bodily ; but not once did he make the smallest effort to rise. The road was merely a gutter scoured out by the floods and it was not possible either to drag the animal up the steep sides or to leave him and go on — the waggon would have had to pass over him. And all this time he was outspanned and free to go ; but would not stir. Then they did the kaffir trick — doubled the tail and bit it : very few bullocks will stand that, but Bantom never winced. Then they took their clasp knives and used them as spurs — not stabbing to do real injury, but pricking enough to draw blood in the fleshy parts, where it would be most felt : he twitched to the pricks — but nothing more. Then they made a fire close behind him, and as the wood blazed up, the heat seemed unendurable ; the smell of singed hair was strong, and the flames, not a foot away, seemed to roast the flesh, and one of the drivers took a brand and pressed the glowing red coal against the inside of the hams ; but, beyond a vicious kick at the fire, 237 there was no result. Then they tried to suffocate him, gripping the mouth and nostrils so that he could not breathe ; but, when the limit of endurance was reached and even the spectators tightened up with a sense of suffocation, a savage shake of the head always freed it — the brute was too strong for them. Then they raised the head with reims, and with the nose held high poured water down the nostrils, at the same time keeping the mouth firmly closed ; but he blew the water all over them and shook himself free again. For the better part of an hour the struggle went on, but there was not the least sign of yielding on Ban- tom's part, and the string of waiting waggons grew longer, and many others, white men and black, gathered round watching, helping or suggesting. At last some one brought a bucket of water, and into this Bantom's muzzle was thrust as far as it would go, and reims passed through the ears of the bucket were slipped round his horns so that he could not shake himself free at will. We stood back and watched the animal's sides for signs of breathing. For an incredible time he held out ; but at last with a sudden plunge he was up ; a bubbling muffled bellow came from the bucket ; the boys let go the reims ; and the terrified animal ridding himself of the bucket after a frantic struggle, stood with legs apart and eyeballs starting from the sockets, shaking like a reed. But nothing that had happened revealed the vicious ingrained obstinacy of the _^ animal's nature 238 so clearly as the last act in the struggle : it stood passive, and apparently beaten, while the boys inspanned it again. But at the first call to the team to start, and without a touch to provoke its temper again, it dropped down once more. Not one of all those looking on would have believed it possible ; but there it was ! In the most deliberate manner the challenge was again flung down, and the whole fight begun afresh. We felt really desperate : one could think of nothing but to repeat the bucket trick ; for it was the only one that had succeeded at all. The bucket had been flung aside on the stones as the ox freed itself, and one of the boys picked it up to fetch more water. But no more was needed : the rattle of the bucket brought Bantom to his feet with a terrified jump, and flinging his whole weight into the yoke, he gave the waggon a heave that started the whole span, and they went out at a run. The drivers had not even picked up their whips : the only incentive applied was the bucket, which the boy — grasping the position at once — rattled vigorously behind Bantom, doubling his frantic eagerness to get away, amid shouts of encouragement and laughter from the watching group. The trials and lessons of the work came in various shapes and at every turn ; and there were many trials where the lesson was not easy to read. It would have taken a good man to handle Bantom, at- any time- even in the beginning ; but, full-grown, and confirmed in his evil ways, only the butcher could make anything out of him. And only the butcher did ! THERE is a spot on the edge of the Berg which we made our summer quarters. When September came round and the sun swung higher in the steely blue, blazing down more pitilessly than ever; when the little creeks were running dry and the water-holes became saucers of cracked mud ; when the whole country smelt of fine impal- pable dust ; it was a relief to quit the Bushveld, and even the hunting was given up almost without regret. On the Berg the air was clear and bracing, as well it might be five to seven thousand feet above the sea. The long green sweeps of undulating country were broken by deep gorges where the mountain streams had cut their way through the up-tilted outer edge of the big plateau and tumbled in countless water- falls into the Bushveld below ; and behind the rolling downs again stood the remnants of the upper for- mation— the last tough fragments of those rocks which the miners believed originally held the gold — worn and washed away, inch by inch and ounce 240 by ounce ever since the Deluge. These broken para- pets stood up like ruins of giant castles with every layer in their formation visible across their rugged time-worn fronts — lines, in places a few yards only and in others a mile or more in length, laid one upon another as true as any spirit level could set them — and a wealth of colouring over all that, day by day, one thought more wonderful in variety and blend. Grey and black and yellow, white and red and brown, were there ; yet all harmonising, all shaded by growths of shrub and creeper, by festoons of moss or brilliant lichen, all weather-stained and softened, all toned, as time and nature do it, to make straight lines and many colours blend into the picturesque. Paradise Camp perched on the very edge of the Berg. Behind us rolled green slopes to the feet of the higher peaks, and in front of us lay the Bushveld. From the broken battlements of the Berg we looked down three thousand feet, and eastward to the sea a hundred and fifty miles away, across the vast pano- rama. Black densely-timbered kloofs broke the edge of the plateau into a long series of projecting turrets, in some places cutting far in, deep crevices into which the bigger waterfalls plunged and were lost. But the top of the Berg itself was bare of trees : the breeze blew cool and fresh for ever there ; the waters trickled and splashed in every little break or tumbled with steady roar down the greater gorges ; deep pools, fringed with masses of ferns, smooth as mirrors or flecked with dancing sunlight, were set like brilliants in the silver chain of each little stream ; and rocks and 241 Q pebbles, wonderful in their colours, were magnified and glorified into polished gems by the sparkling water. But Nature has her moods, and it was not always thus at Paradise Camp. When the cold mist-rains, like wet grey fogs, swept over us and for a week blotted out creation, it was neither pleasant nor safe to grope along the edge of the Berg, in search of strayed cattle — wet and cold, unable to see, and checked from time to time by a keener straighter gust that leapt up over the unseen precipice a few yards off. And there was still another mood when the summer rains set in and the storms burst over us, and the lightning stabbed viciously in all directions, and the crackling crash of the thunder seemed as if the very Berg itself must be split and shattered. Then the rivers rose ; the roar of waters was all around us ; and Paradise Camp was isolated from the rest by floods which no man would lightly face. Paradise Camp stood on the edge of the kloof where the nearest timber grew ; Tumbling Waters, where stood the thousand grey sandstone sentinels of strange fantastic shapes, was a couple of miles away facing Black Bluff, the highest point of all, and The Camel, The Wolf, The Sitting Hen and scores more, rough casts in rock by Nature's hand, stood there. Close below us was the Bathing Pool, with its twenty feet of purest water, its three rock-ledge ' springboards,' and its banks of moss and canopies of tree ferns. Further down the stream spread in a thousand pools and rapids over a mile of black bedrock and then poured in one broad sheet over Graskop Falls. And still further down were the 242 Mac Mac Falls, three hundred feet straight drop into the rock-strewn gorge, where the straight walls ' were draped with staghorn moss, like countless folds of delicate green lace, bespangled by the spray. We were felling and slipping timber for the goldfields then, and it was in these surroundings that the work was done. It was a Sunday morning, and I was lying on my back on a sack-stretcher taking it easy, when Jock gave a growl and trotted out. Presently I heard voices in the next hut and wondered who the visitors were — too lazily content to get up and see ; then a cold nose was poked against my cheek and I looked round to see Jess's little eyes and flickering ears within a few inches of my face. For the moment she did not look cross, but as if a faint smile of welcome were flitting across a soured face ; then she trotted back to the other hut where Ted was patting Jock and try- ing to trace a likeness to The Rat. It was a long time since mother and son had been together, and if the difference between them was remarkable, the likeness seemed to me more striking still. Jock had grown up by himself and made him- self ; he was so different from other dogs that I had forgotten how much he owed to good old Jess ; but now that they were once more side by side everything he did and had done recalled the likeness and yet showed the difference between them. Many times as we moved about the camp or worked in the woods they walked or stood together, sometimes sniffing along some spoor and sometimes waiting and watching for us to come up — handsome son and ugly mother. Ugly she might be, with her little fretful hostile eyes and her uncertain ever-moving ears, and silent sour and cross ; but stubborn fidelity and reckless courage were hers too ; and all the good Jock had in him came from Jess. To see them side by side was enough : every line in his golden brindled coat had its counterpart in her dull markings ; his jaw was hers, with a difference, every whit as determined but without the savage look ; his eyes were hers — brown to black as the moods changed — yet not fretful and cross, but serenely ob- servant, when quiet, and black, hot and angry, like hers, when roused — yet without the look of relentless cruelty ; his ears were hers — and yet how different, not shifting, flickering and ever on the move, nor flattened back with the look of most uncertain temper, but sure in their movements and faithful reflectors of more sober moods and more balanced temper, and so often cocked — one full and one half — with a look of genuinely friendly interest which, when he put his head on one side, seemed to change in a curiously comical way into an expression of quiet amusement. The work kept us close to camp and we gave no thought to shooting ; yet Jess and Jock had some good sport together. We gave them courses for breathers after Oribi in the open, but these fleetest of little antelopes left them out of sight in very few minutes. Bushbuck too were plentiful enough, but so wily in keeping to the $\— -rx ^ark woods and deep kloofs that -4*35^3^ fijf.1 jrf unless we organised 244 ^f .• » «*\ a drive the only chance one got was to stalk them in the early morning as they fed on the fringes of the bush. I often wondered how the dogs would have fared with those desperate fighters that have injured and killed more dogs and more men than any other buck, save perhaps the Sable. Once they caught an ant-bear in the open, and there was a rough-and-tumble ; we had no weapons — not even sticks — with us, and the dogs had it all to them- selves. The clumsy creature could do nothing with them ; his powerful digging claws looked dangerous, but the dogs never gave him a chance ; he tried hard to reach his hole, but they caught him as he somer- saulted to dodge them, and, one in front and one behind, worried the life out of him. Once they killed a tiger-cat. We heard the rush and the row, and scrambled down through the tangled woods as fast as we could, but they fought on, tumbling and rolling downhill before us, and when we came up to them it was all over and they were tugging and tearing at the lifeless black and white body, Jess at the throat and Jock at the stomach. The cat was as big as either of them and armed with most formidable claws, which it had used to some purpose, for both dogs were torn and bleeding freely in several places. Still they thoroughly enjoyed it and searched the place afresh every time we passed it, as regularly as a boy looks about where he once picked up a sixpence. Then the dainty little klipspringers led them many a crazy dance along the crags and ledges of the mountain face, jumping from rock to rock with 245 the utmost ease and certainty and looking down with calm curiosity at the clumsy scrambling dogs as they vainly tried to follow. The dassies too — watchful, silent and rubber-footed — played hide-and-seek with them in the cracks and crevices ; but the dogs had no chance there. Often there were races after baboons. There were thousands of them along the Berg, but except when a few were found in the open, we always called the dogs in. Among a troop of baboons the best of dogs would have no show at all. Ugly, savage and treacherous as they are, they have at least one quality which compels admiration — they stand by each other. If one is attacked or wounded the others will often turn back and help, and they will literally tear a dog to pieces. Even against one full-grown male a dog has little or no chance ; for they are very powerful, quick as lightning, and fierce fighters. Their enormous jaws and teeth outmatch a dog's, and with four 1 hands ' to help them the advantage is altogether too great. Their method of fighting is to hold the dog with all four feet and tear pieces out of him with their teeth. We knew the danger well, for there was a fighting baboon at a wayside place not far from us — a savage brute, owned by a still greater savage. It was kept chained up to a pole with its house on the top of the pole ; and what the owner considered to be a good joke was to entice dogs up, either to attack the baboon or at least to come sniffing about within reach of it, and then see them worried to death. The excuse was 246 always the same : " Your dog attacked the baboon. I can't help it." Sometimes the dogs were rescued by their owners ; but many were killed. To its native cunning this brute added all the tricks that experience had taught, sometimes hiding up in its box to induce the dog to come sniffing close up ; sometimes grubbing in the sand for food, pretending not to see the intruder until he was well within reach ; sometimes running back in feigned alarm to draw him on. Once it got a grip the baboon threw itself on its '!.! side or back and, with all four feet holding the dog off, tore lumps out of the helpless animal. A plucky'" dog that would try to make a fight of it had no chance ; the only hope was to get away, if possible. Not every baboon is a fighter like this, but in almost every troop there will be at least one terrible old fellow, and the biggest, strongest and fiercest always dominate and lead the others ; and their hostility and audacity are such that they will loiter behind the retreating troop and face a man on foot or on horseback, slowly and reluctantly giving way, or sometimes moving along abreast, a hostile escort, giving loud roars of defiance and hoarse challenges as though ready on the least provocation or excuse to charge. It is not a pleasant position for an unarmed man, as at the first move or call from the leader the whole troop would come charging down again. It is not actual danger that impresses one, but the uncanny effect of the short defiant roars, the savage half-human look of the repul- sive creatures, their still more human methods of facial expression and threatening attitudes, their tactics 247 in encircling their object and using cover to approach and peer out cautiously from behind it, and their evident co-operation and obedience to the leader's directions and example. One day while at work in the woods there came to us a grizzled worn-looking old kaffir, whose head ring of polished black wax attested his dignity as a kehla. He carried an old musket and was attended by two youngsters armed with throwing-sticks and a hunting assegai each. He appeared to be a ' somebody ' in a small way, and we knew at a glance that he had not come for nothing. There is a certain courtesy and a good deal of formality observed among the natives which is appre- ciated by but few of the white men who come in contact with them. One reason for this failure in appreciation is that native courtesy is in its method and expression sometimes just the reverse of what we consider proper ; and if actions which seem suggestive of disrespect were judged from the native's standpoint, and according to his code, there would be no mis- understanding. The old man, passing and ignoring the group of boys, came towards us as we sat in the shade for the midday rest, and slowly came to a stand a few yards off, leaning on his long flint-lock quietly taking stock of us each in turn, and waiting for us to inspect him. Then, after three or four minutes of this, he proceeded to salute us separately with " Sakubona, Umlungu ! " delivered with measured deliberation at intervals of about a quarter of a minute, each saluta- tion being accompanied by the customary upward 248 movement of the head — their respectful equivalent of our nod or bow. When he had done the round, his two attendants took their turns, and when this was over, and another long pause had served to mark his respect, he drew back a few paces to a spot about half- way between us and where the kaffirs sat, and, tucking his loin skins comfortably under him, squatted down. Ten minutes more elapsed before he allowed his eyes to wander absently round towards the boys and finally to settle on them for a repetition of the perform- ance that we had been favoured with. But in this case it was they who led off with the " Sakubona, Umganaam ! " which he acknowledged with the raising of the head and a soft murmur of contented recogni- tion, "A-he." Once more there was silence for a spell, while he waited to be questioned in the customary manner and to give an account of himself, before it would be courteous or proper to introduce the subject of his visit. It was Jim's voice that broke the silence — clear and imperative, as usual, but not uncivil. It always was Jim who cut in, as those do who are naturally impatient of delays and formalities. " Velapi, Umganaam ? " (Where do you come from, friend ?) he asked, putting the question which is recognised as courteously providing the stranger with an opening to give an account of himself ; and he is expected and required to do so to their satisfaction before he in turn can ask all about them, their occupa- tions, homes, destination and master, and his occupa- tion, purpose and possessions. 249 The talk went round in low exchanges until at last the old man moved closer and joined the circle ; and then the other voices dropped out, only to be heard ;once in a while in some brief question or that briefest of all comments — the kaffir click and " Ow ! " It may mean anything, according to the tone, but it was clearly sympathetic on that occasion. The old man's voice went on monotonously in a low-pitched impas- sive tone ; but the boys hung intent on every word to the end. Then one or two questions, briefly answered in the same tone of detached philosophic indifference, brought their talk to a close. The old fellow tapped his carved wood snuff-box with the carefully-preserved long yellowish nail of one fore- finger, and pouring some snuff into the palm of his hand, drew it into each nostril in turn with long luxu- rious sniffs ; and then, resting his arms on his knees, he relapsed into complete silence. We called the boys to start work again, and they came away, as is their custom, without a word or look towards the man whose story had held them for the last half-hour. Nor did he speak or stir, but sat on unmoved, a picture of stoical indifference. But who can say if it be indifference or fatalism or the most astute diplomacy ? Among white men opinions differ : I put it down as fatalism. We asked no questions, for we knew it was no accident that had brought the old man our way : he wanted something, and we would learn soon enough what it was. So we waited. As we gathered round the fallen tree to finish the 250 cleaning and slip it down to the track Jim remarked irrelevantly that tigers were ' schelms,' and it was his conviction that there were a great many in the kloofs round about. At intervals during the next hour or so he dropped other scraps about tigers and their ways, and how to get at them and what good sport it was, winding up with a short account of how two seasons back an English ' Capitaine ' had been killed by one only a few miles away. Jim was no diplomatist : he had tiger on the brain, and showed it ; so when I asked him bluntly what the old man had been talking about, the whole story came out. There was a tiger — it was of course the biggest ever seen — which had been preying on the old chief's kraal for the last six months : dogs, goats and kaffir sheep innumerable had disappeared, even fowls were not despised ; and only two days ago the climax had been reached when, in the cool of the afternoon and in defiance of the yelling herdboy, it had slipped into the herd at the drinking-place and carried off a calf — a heifer-calf too ! The old man was poor : the tiger had nearly ruined him ; and he had come up to see if we, "who were great hunters," would come down and kill the thief, or at least lend him a tiger-trap, as he could not afford to buy one. In the evening when we returned to camp we found the old fellow there, and heard the story told with the same patient resignation or stoical indifference with which he had told it to the boys ; and, if there was something inscrutable in the smoky eyes that might 251 have hidden a more calculating spirit, it did not trouble us — the tiger was what we wanted ; the chance IJlJseemed good enough ; and we decided to go. Tigers ! — as they are almost invariably called, but properly, leopards — were plentiful enough and were often to be heard at night in the kloofs below ; but they are ex- tremely wary animals and in the inhabited parts rarely move about by day ; however, the marauding habits and the audacity of this fellow were full of promise. The following afternoon we set off with our guns and blankets, a little food for two days, and the tiger- trap ; and by nightfall we had reached the foot of the Berg by paths and ways which you might think only a baboon could follow. It was moonlight, and we moved along through the heavily-timbered kloofs in single file behind the shadowy figure of the shrivelled old chief. His years seemed no handicap to him, as with long easy soft- footed strides he went on hour after hour. The air was delightfully cool and sweet with the fresh smells of the woods ; the damp carpet of moss and dead leaves dulled the sound of our more blundering steps ; now and again through the thick canopy of evergreens we caught glimpses of the moon, and in odd places the light threw stumps or rocks into quaint relief or turned some tall bare trunk into a ghostly sentinel of the forest. We had crossed the last of the many mountain streams and reached open ground when the old chief stopped, and pointing to the face of a high krans— black and threatening in the shadow, as it seemed 252 to overhang us — said that somewhere up there was a cave which was the tiger's home, and it was from this safe refuge that he raided the countryside. The kraal was not far off. From the top of the spur we could look round, as from the pit of some vast coliseum, and see the huge wall of the Berg towering up above and half enclosing us, the whole arena roofed over by the star-spattered sky. The brilliant moon- light picked out every ridge and hill, deepening the velvet black of the shadowed valleys, and on the rise before us there was the twinkling light of a small fire, and the sound of voices came to us, borne on the still night air, so clearly that words picked out here and there were repeated by our boys with grunting com- ments and chuckles of amusement. We started on again down an easy slope passing through some bush, and at the bottom came on level ground thinly covered with big shady trees and scat- tered undergrowth. As we walked briskly through the flecked and dappled light and shade, we were startled by the sudden and furious rush of Jess and Jock off the path and away into the scrub on the left ; and immediately after there was a grunting noise, a crash- ing and scrambling, and then one sharp clear yelp of pain from one of the dogs. The old chief ran ^ back behind us, shouting " Ingwa, ingwa ! " (Tiger, tiger). We slipped our rifles round and stood facing front, unable to see anything and not knowing what to expect. There were sounds of some sort in the bush — something like a faint scratching, and ^some- thing like smothered sobbing grunts, but so indistinct 253 as to be more ominous and disquieting than absolute silence. " He has killed the dogs," the old chief said, in a low voice. But as he said it there was a rustle in front, and some- thing came out towards us. The guns were up and levelled, instantly, but dropped again when we saw it was a dog ; and Jess came back limping badly and stopping every few paces to shake her head and rub her mouth against her fore-paws. She was in great pain and breathed out faint barely-audible whines from time to time. We waited for minutes, but Jock did not appear ; and as the curious sounds still came from the bush we moved forward in open order, very slowly and with infinite caution. As we got closer, scouting each bush and open space, the sounds grew clearer, and suddenly it came to me that it was the noise of a body being dragged and the grunting breathing of a dog. I called sharply to Jock and the sound stopped ; and taking a few paces forward then, I saw him in a moonlit space turning round and round on the pivot of his hind-legs and swinging or dragging something much bigger than himself. Jim gave a yell and shot past me, plunging his assegai into the object and shouting " Porcupine, porcupine," at the top of his voice. We were all round it in a couple of seconds, but I think the porcu- pine was as good as dead even before Jim had stabbed it. Jock was still holding on grimly, tugging with all his might and always with the same movement of 254 TUGGING WITH ALL HIS MIGHT swinging it round him, or, of himself circling round it— perhaps that is the fairer description, for the porcupine was much the heavier. He had it by the throat where the flesh is bare of quills, and had kept himself out of reach of the terrible spikes by pulling away' all the time, just as he had done with the duiker and other buck to avoid their hind-feet. This encounter with the porcupine gave us a better chance of getting the tiger than we ever expected — too good a chance to be neglected ; so we cut the animal up and used the worthless parts to bait the big tiger-trap, having first dragged them across the veld for a good distance each way to leave a blood spoor which would lead the tiger up to the trap. This, with the quantity of blood spread about in the fight, lying right in the track of his usual prowling ought to attract his attention, we thought ; and we fastened the trap to a big tree, making an avenue of bushes up to the bait so that he would have to walk right over the trap hidden under the dead leaves, in order to get at the bait. We hoped that, if it failed to hold, it would at least wound him badly enough to enable us to follow him up in the morning. In the bright light of the fire that night, as Jock lay beside me having his share of the porcupine steaks, I noticed something curious about his chest, and on looking closer found the whole of his white * shirt front ' speckled with dots of blood ; he had been pricked in dozens of places, and it was clear that it had been no walk-over for him ; he must have had a pretty rough handling before he got the porcupine 255 ' on the swing. He was none the worse, however, and was the picture of contentment as he lay beside me in the ring facing the fire. But Jess was a puzzle. From the time that she had come hobbling back to us, carrying her one foot in the air and stopping to rub her mouth on her paws, we had been trying to find out what was the matter. The foot trouble was clear enough, for there was a quill fifteen inches long and as stiff and thick as a lead pencil still piercing the ball of her foot, with the needle- like point sticking out between her toes. Fortunately it had not been driven far through and the hole was small, so that once it was drawn and the foot bandaged she got along fairly well. It was not the foot that was troubling her ; all through the evening she kept repeating the movement of her head, either rubbing it on her front legs or wiping her muzzle with the paws, much as a cat does when washing its face. She would not touch food and could not lie still for five minutes ; and we could do nothing to help her. No one had doubted Jess's courage, even when we saw her come back alone : we knew there was some- thing wrong,.,but in spite of every care and effort we could not find out what it was, and poor old Jess went through the night in suffering, making no sound, but moving from .place to place weary and restless, giving long tired quivering sighs, and pawing at her mouth from time to time. In the morning light we again looked her all over carefully, and especially opened her mouth and examined that and her nostrils, but could find nothing to show what was wrong. The puzzle was solved by accident : Ted was sitting on the ground when she came up to him, looking wistfully into his face again with one of the mute appeals for help. " What is it, Jess, old girl ? " he said, and reaching out, he caught her head in both hands and drew her towards him ; but with a sharp exclamation he instantly 257 R let go again, pricked by something, and a drop of blood oozed from one finger-tip. Under Jess's right ear there was a hard sharp point just showing through the skin : we all felt it, and when the skin was forced back we saw it was the tip of a porcupine quill. There was no pulling it out or moving it, however, nor could we for a long time find where it had entered. At last Ted noticed what looked like a tiny narrow strip of bark adhering to the outside of her lower lip, and this turned out to be the broken end of the quill, snapped off close to the flesh ; not even the end of the quill was visible — only the little strip that had peeled off in the breaking. Poor old Jess ! We had no very grand appliances for surgery, and had to slit her lip down with an ordi- nary skinning knife. Ted held her between his knees and gripped her head with both hands, while one of us pulled with steel pliers on the broken quill until it came out. The quill had pierced her lower lip, entered the gums beside the front teeth, run all along the jaw and through the flesh behind, coming out just below the ear. It was over seven inches long. She struggled a little under the rough treatment, and there was a protesting whimper when we tugged ; but she did not let out one cry under all the pain. We knew then that Jess had done her share in the fight, and guessed that it was she who in her reckless charge had rolled the porcupine over and given Jock his chance. The doctoring of Jess had delayed us considerably, and while we were still busy at it the old chief came 258 up to say that his scouts had returned and reported that there was no tiger to be seen, but that they thought the trap had been sprung. They had not liked to go close up, preferring to observe the spot from a tree some way off. The first question was what to do with Jess. We had no collar or chain, of course, and nothing would induce her to stay behind once Ted started; she would have bitten through ropes and reims in a few minutes, and no kaffir would have faced the job of watching over and checking her. Finally we put her into one of the reed and mud huts, closing the entrance with some raw hides weighted with heavy stones ; and off we went. We found the trap sprung and the bait untouched. The spoor was a tiger's, right enough, and we saw where it had circled suspiciously all round before finally entering the little fenced approach which we had built to shepherd it on to the trap. There each footprint was clear, and it appeared that instead of cautiously creeping right up to the bait and stepping on the setting-plate, it had made a pounce at the bait from about ten feet away, releasing the trap by knocking the spring or by touching the plate with the barrel of its body. The tiger had evidently been nipped, but the body was too big for the teeth to close on, and no doubt the spring it gave on feeling the grip underneath set it free with nothing worse than a bad scraping and a tremendous fright. There was plenty of hair and some skin on the teeth of the trap, but very little blood there, and none at all to be found round about. 259 That was almost the worst result we could have had : the tiger was not crippled, nor was it wounded enough to enable us to track it, but must have been so thoroughly alarmed that it would certainly be I extremely nervous and suspicious of everything now, and would probably avoid the neighbourhood for some time to come. The trap was clearly of no further use, but after coming so far for the tiger we were not disposed to give up the hunt without another effort. The natives told us it was quite useless to follow it up as it was a real * schelm,' and by that time would be miles away in some inaccessible krans. We determined however to go on, and if we failed to get a trace of the tiger, to put in the day hunting bushbuck or wild pig, both of which were fairly plentiful. We had not gone more than a few hundred yards when an exclamation from one of the boys made us look round, and we saw Jess on the opposite slope coming along full speed after us with her nose to the trail. She had scratched and bitten her way through the reed and mud wall of the hut, scared the wits out of a couple of boys who had tried to head her off, and raced away after us with a pack of kaffir mongrels yelping unnoticed at her heels. She really did not seem much the worse for her wounds, and was — for her — quite demonstrative in her delight at finding us again. In any case there was nothing to be done but to let her come, and we went on once more beating up towards the lair in the black krans with the two dogs in the lead. 260 The guides led us down into the bed of one of the mountain streams, and following this up we were soon in the woods where the big trees meeting overhead made it dark and cool. It was difficult in that light to see anything clearly at first, and the considerable undergrowth of shrub and creepers and the boulders shed from the Berg added to the difficulty and made progress slow. We moved along as much as possible abreast, five or six yards apart, but were often driven by obstacles into the bed of the stream for short distances in order to make headway at all, and although there did not seem to be much chance of finding the tiger at home, we crept along cautiously and noiselessly, talking — when we had to — only in whispers. We were bunched together, preparing to crawl along a rock overhanging a little pool, when the boy in front made a sign and pointed with his assegai to the dogs. They had crossed the stream and were walking — very slowly and abreast — near the water's edge. The rawest of beginners would have needed no explanation. The two stood for a few seconds sniffing at a particular spot and then both together looked steadily up- stream : there was another pause and they moved very slowly and carefully forward a yard or so and sniffed again with their noses almost touching. As they did this the hair on their backs and shoulders began to rise until, as they reached the head of the pool, they were bristling like hedgehogs and giving little purring growls. The guide went over to them while we waited, afraid to move lest the noise of our boots on the stones 261 should betray us. After looking round for a bit he pointed to a spot on the bank where he had found the fresh spoor of the tiger, and picking up something there to show to us he came back to our side. It was a little fragment of whitish skin with white hairs on it. There was no doubt about it then : we were on the fresh spoor of the tiger where it had stopped to drink at the pool and probably to lick the scratches made by the trap ; and leaving the bed of the stream it had gone through the thick undergrowth up towards the krans. We were not more than a hundred yards from the krans then, and the track taken by the tiger was not at all an inviting one. It was at first merely a narrow tunnel in the undergrowth up the steep hillside, through which we crept in single file with the two dogs a few yards in front ; they moved on in the same silent deliberate way, so intent and strung up that they- started slightly and instantly looked up in front at the least sound. As the ascent became steeper and more rocky, the undergrowth thinned and we were able to spread out into line once more, threading our way through several roughly-parallel game tracks or natural openings and stooping low to watch the dogs and take our cue from them. We were about fifteen yards from the precipitous face of the krans, and had just worked round a huge boulder into a space fairly free of bush but cumbered with many big rocks and loose stones, when the dogs stopped and stood quivering and bristling all over, moving their heads slowly about with noses well 262 raised and sniffing persistently. There was something now that interested them more than the spoor : they winded the tiger itself, but could not tell where. No one stirred : we stood watching the dogs and snatching glances right and left among the boulders and their shady creeper-hidden caves and recesses, and as we stood thus, grouped together in breathless silence, an electrifying snarling roar came from the krans above and the spotted body of the tiger shot like a streak out of the black mouth of a cave and across our front into the bush ; there was a series of crashing bounds, as though a stone rolled from the mountain were leaping through the jungle ; and then absolute silence. We explored the den ; but there was nothing of interest in it — no remains of food, no old bones, or other signs of cubs. It seemed to be the retreat of a male tiger — secluded, quiet, and cool. The opening was not visible from any distance, a split-off slab of rock partly hiding it ; but when we stood upon the rock platform we found that almost the whole of the horseshoe bay in the Berg into which we had de- scended was visible, and it was with a " Wow ! " of surprise and mortification that the kraal boys found they could see the kraal itself and their goats and cattle grazing on the slopes and in the valley below. Tigers do not take their kill to their dens unless there are young cubs to be fed ; as a rule they feed where they kill, or as near to it as safety permits, jgj?~ and when they have fed their fill they carry off the remainder of the carcase 263 and hide it. Lions, hyenas, and others leave what they cannot eat and return to it for their next but tigers are more provident and more and — being able to climb trees — they very much more difficult to follow or waylay by means of their kill. They are not big fellows, rarely exceeding seven feet from nose to tip of tail and 130 Ib. in weight ; but they are extraordinarily active and strong, and it is difficult to believe until one has seen the proof of it that they are able to climb the bare trunk of a tree carrying a kill much bigger and heavier than themselves, and hang it safely wedged in some hidden fork out of reach of any other animal. I have repeatedly seen the remains of their victims in the forks of trees ; once it was part of a pig, but on the other occasions the remains were of horned animals; the pig was balanced in the fork ; the others were hooked in by the heads and horns. A well-known hunter once told me an experience of his illustrating the strength and habits of tigers. He had shot a young giraffe and carried off as much as he could put on his horse, and hid the rest ; but when he returned next morning it had disappeared, and the spoor of a full-grown tiger told him why. He followed the drag mark up to the foot of a big tree and found the remains of the carcase, fully 300 Ib. in weight, in a fork more than twenty feet from the ground. He left it there as a bait and returned again the following morning on the chance of a shot ; but the meat had once more been removed and on following 264 up the spoor he found what was left hidden in another tree some two hundred yards away. It would have been waste of time to follow our tiger — he would be on the watch and on the move for hours ; so we gave it up at once, and struck across the spurs for another part of the big arena where pig and bushbuck were known to feed in the mornings. It was slow and difficult work, as the bush was very dense and the ground rough. The place was riddled j with game tracks, and we saw spoor of koodoo and '"/' eland several times, and tracks innumerable of wild '' pig, rietbuck, bushbuck, and duiker. But there was more than spoor : a dozen times we heard the crash of startled animals through the reeds or bush only a -few yards away without being able to see a thing. We had nearly reached the kloof we were aiming for when we had the good luck to get a bushbuck in a very unexpected way. We had worked our way out of a particularly dense patch of bush and brambles into a corner of the woods and were resting on the mossy ground in the shade of the big trees when the sound of clattering stones a good way off made us start up again and grab our rifles; and presently we saw, outlined against the band of light which marked the edge of the timber, a buck charging down towards us. Three of us fired together, and the buck rolled over within a few yards of where we stood. We were then in a ' dead end ' up against the precipitous face of the Berg where there was no road or path other than game tracks, and where no human being ever went except for the purpose of hunting. 265 We knew there was no one else shooting there, and it puzzled us considerably to think what had scared the bushbuck ; for the animal had certainly been startled and perhaps chased ; the pace, the noise it made, and the blind recklessness of its dash, all showed that. The only explanation we could think of was that the tiger, in making a circuit along the slopes of the Berg s' to get away from us, must have put the buck up and driven it down on to us in the woods below, and if that were so, the reports of our rifles must have made him think that he was never going to get rid of us. We skinned and cut up the buck and pushed on again ; but the roughness of the trail and the various stoppages had delayed us greatly, and we failed to get the expected bag. We got one rietbuck and a young boar ; the rietbuck was a dead shot ; but the pig, from the shooting standpoint, was a most humiliating failure. A troop of twenty or thirty started up from under our feet as we came out of the blazing sunlight into the gloom of the woods, and no one could see well enough to aim. They were led by a grand boar, and the whole lot looked like a troop of charging lions as they raced by with their bristly manes erect and their tufted tails standing straight up. As we stood there, crestfallen and disgusted, we heard fresh grunting behind, and turning round we saw one pig racing past in the open, having apparently missed the troop while wallowing in a mudhole and known nothing of our intrusion until he heard the shooting. We gave him a regular broadside, and — as is usually the case when you think that quantity 266 will do in place of quality — made an awful mess of it, and before we had time to reload Jess and Jock had cut in, and we could not fire again for fear of hitting them. The boys, wildly delighted by this irregular development which gave them such a chance, joined in the chase and in a few seconds it became a chaotic romp like a rat hunt in a schoolroom. The dogs ranged up on each side and were on to the pig together, Jess hanging on to one ear and Jock at the neck ; the boar dug right and left at them, but his tusks were short and blunt, and if he managed to get at them at all they bore no mark of it afterwards. For about twenty yards they dragged and tugged, and then all three came somersaulting over together. In the scramble Jock got his grip on the throat, and Jess — rolled and trampled on — appeared between the pig's hind-legs, sliding on her back with her teeth embedded in one of the hams. For half a minute the boar, grunting and snorting, plunged about madly, trying to get at them or to free himself ; and then the boys caught up and riddled him with their assegais. After the two bombardments of the pigs and the fearful row made by the boys there was not much chance of putting up anything more, and we made for the nearest stream in the woods for a feed and a rest before returning to camp. We had failed to get the tiger, it is true, and it would be useless giving more time or further thought to him, for in all probability it would be a week or more before he returned to his old hunting-ground and his old marauding tricks, but the porcupine and 267 the pig had provided more interest and amusement than much bigger game might have done, and on the whole, although disappointed, we were not dissatisfied : in fact, it would have needed an ungrateful spirit indeed to feel discontented in such surroundings. Big trees of many kinds and shapes united to make a canopy of leaves overhead through which only occa- sional shafts of sunlight struck. The cold mountain stream tumbling over ledges, swirling among rocks or rippling over pebble-strewn reaches, gurgled, splashed and bubbled with that wonderful medley of sounds that go to make the lullaby of the brook. The floor of the forest was carpeted with a pile of staghorn moss a foot thick, and maidenhair fern grew every- where with the luxuriant profusion of weeds in a tropical garden. Traveller's Joy covered whole trees with dense creamy bloom and spread its fragrance everywhere ; wild clematis trailed over stumps and fallen branches ; quantities of maidenhair over- flowed the banks and drooped to the water all along the course of the stream ; whilst, marshalled on either side, huddled together on little islands, perched on rocks, and grouped on overhanging ledges, stood the tree-ferns — as though they had come to drink—- their wide-reaching delicate fronds like giant green ostrich-feathers waving gently to each breath of air or quivering as the movement of the water shook the trunks. Long-tailed greeny-gray monkeys with black faces peered down at us, moving lightly on their branch trapezes, and pulled faces or chattered their indignant 268 protest against intrusion ; in the tops of the wild fig- trees bright green pigeons watched us shyly — great big birds of a wonderful green ; gorgeous louries too flashed their colours and raised their crests — pictures of extreme and comical surprise ; golden cuckoos there were also and beautiful little green-backed ruby- throated honey-suckers, flitted like butterflies among the flowers on the sunlit fringe of the woods. Now and again guinea-fowl and bush-pheasant craned their necks over some fallen log or stone to peer curiously at us, then stooping low again darted along their well-worn runs into the thick bush. The place was in fact a natural preserve ; a ' bay ' let into the wall of the Berg, half-encircled by cliffs which nothing could climb, a little world where the common enemy — man — seldom indeed intruded. We stayed there until the afternoon sun had passed behind the crest of the Berg above us ; and, instead of going back the way we came, skirted along the other arm enclosing the bay to have the cool shade of the mountain with us on our return journey. But the way was rough ; the jungle was dense ; we were hot and torn and tired ; and the shadow of the mountain stretched far out across the foothills by the time the corner was reached. We sat down to rest at last in the open on the long spur on which, a couple of miles away, the slanting sun picked out the red and black cattle, the white goats, and the brown huts of the kaffir kraal. Our route lay along the side of the spur, skirting the rocky backbone and winding between occasional 269 boulders, clumps of trees and bush, and we had moved on only a little way when a loud " Waugh " from a baboon on the mountain behind made us stop to look back. The hoarse shout was repeated several times, and each time more loudly and emphatically ; it seemed like the warning call of a sentry who had seen us. Moved by curiosity we turned aside on to the ridge itself, and from the top of a big rock scanned the almost precipitous face opposite. The spur on which we stood was divided from the Berg itself only by a deep but narrow kloof or ravine, and every detail of the mountain side stood out in the clear evening air, but against the many-coloured rocks the grey figure of a baboon was not easy to find as long as it remained still, and although from time to time the barking roar was repeated, we were still scanning the opposite hill when one of the boys pointed down the slope immediately below us and called out, " There, there, Baas ! " The troop of baboons had evidently been quite close to us — hidden from us only by the little line of rocks — and on getting warning from their sentry on the mountain had stolen quietly away and were then disappearing into the timbered depth of the ravine. We sat still to watch them come out on the opposite side a few minutes later and clamber up the rocky face, for they are always worth watching ; but while we watched, the stillness was broken by an agonised scream — horribly human in its expression of terror- followed by roars, barks, bellows and screams from scores of voices in every key ; and the crackle of break- 270 ing sticks and the rattle of stones added to the medley \ of sound as the baboons raced out of the wood and up i| the bare rocky slope. " What is it ? " " What's the matter ? " " There's something after them." " Look, look ! there they come : " burst from one and another of us as we watched the extraordinary scene. The cries from below seemed to waken the whole mountain; great booming " waughs " came from different places far apart and ever so high up the face of the Berg ; each big roar seemed to act like a trumpet-call and bring forth a multitude of others ; and the air rang with bewildering shouts and echoes volleying round the kloofs and faces of the Berg. The strange thing was that the baboons did not continue their terrified scramble up the mountain, but, once out of the bush, they turned and rallied. Forming an irregular semi- circle they faced down hill, thrusting their heads forward with sudden jerks as though to launch their cries with greater vehemence, and feinting to charge ; they showered loose earth, stones and debris of all sorts down with awkward underhand scrapes of their fore- paws, and gradually but surely descended to within a dozen yards of the bush's edge. " Baas, Baas, the tiger ! Look, the tiger ! There, there on the rock below ! " Jim shot the words out in vehement gusts, choky with excitement ; and true enough, there the tiger was. The long spotted body was crouched on a flat rock just below the baboons; he was broad-side to us, with his fore-quarters slightly raised and his face ^ 271 turned towards the baboons ; with wide-opened mouth he snarled savagely at the advancing line, and with right paw raised made threatening dabs in their direction. His left paw pinned down the body of a baboon. The voices from the mountain boomed louder and nearer as, clattering and scrambling down the face, came more and more baboons : there must have been hundreds of them ; the semicircle grew thicker and blacker, more and more threatening, foot by foot closer. The tiger raised himself a little more and took swift looks from side to side across the advancing front, and then his nerve went, and with one spring he shot from the rock into the bush. There was an instant forward rush of the half-moon, and the rock was covered with roaring baboons, swarming over their rescued comrade ; and a moment later the crowd scrambled up the slope again, taking the tiger's victim with them. In that seething rabble I could pick out nothing, but all the kaffirs maintained they could see the mauled one dragged along by its arms by two others, much as a child might be helped uphill. We were still looking excitedly about — trying to make out what the baboons were doing, watching the others still coming down the Berg, and peering anxiously for a sight of the tiger — when once more Jim's voice gave us a shock. " Where are the dogs ? " he asked ; and the ques- tion turned us cold. If they had gone after the baboons they were as good as dead already — nothing could save 272 " SCRAMBLING DOWN THE FACE CAME MORE AND MORE BABOONS " them. Calling was useless : nothing could be heard in the roar and din that the enraged animals still kept up. We watched the other side of the ravine with something more than anxiety, and when Jock's reddish- looking form broke through the bracken near to the tiger's rock, I felt like shutting my eyes till all was over. We saw him move close under the rock and then disappear. We watched for some seconds — it may have been a minute, but it seemed an eternity — and then, feeling the utter futility of waiting there, jumped off the rock and ran down the slope in the hope that the dogs would hear us call from there. From where the slope was steepest we looked down into the bed of the stream at the bottom of the ravine, and the two dogs were there : they were moving cautiously down the wide stony watercourse just as we had seen them move in the morning, their noses thrown up and heads turning slowly from side to side. We knew what was coming ; there was no time to reach them through the bush below ; the cries of the baboons made calling useless ; and the three of us sat down with rifles levelled ready to fire at the first sight. With gun gripped and breath hard held, watching intently every bush and tree and rock, every spot of light and shade, we sat — not daring to move. Then, over the edge of a big rock overlook- ing the two dogs, appeared something round ; and, smoothly yet swiftly and with a snake-like movement, the long spotted body followed the head and, flattened against the rock, crept stealthily forward until the tiger looked straight down upon Jess and Jock. 273 s The three rifles cracked like one, and with a howl of rage and pain the tiger shot out over the dogs' heads, raced along the stony bed, and suddenly plunging its nose into the ground, pitched over — dead. It was shot through the heart, and down the ribs on each side were the scraped marks of the trap. _. ••« • • •»„ . ium m'\v>"*v -*-3C=^*uw*.PW»rw.j'/|»s THE summer slipped away — the full-pulsed ripeness^ of the year; beauty and passion ; sunshine and storm ; long spells of peace and gentleness, of springing life and radiant glory; short intervals of reckless tempest and destructive storm! Amongthe massed evergreens of the woods there stood out here and there bright spots of colour, the careless dabs from Nature's artist hand ; yellow and brown, orange and crimson, all vividly distinct, yet all in perfect harmony. The rivers, fed from the replenished mountains' stores, ran full but clear ; the days were bright ; the nights were cold ; the grass was rank and seeding ; and it was time to go. Once more the Bushveld beckoned us away. We picked a spot where grass and water were good, and waited for the rivers to fall ; and it was while loitering there that a small hunting party from the fields making for the Sabi came across us and camped for the night. In the morning two of our party joined them for a few days to try for something big. 275 It was too early in the season for really good sport. The rank tropical grass — six to eight feet high in most places, twelve to fourteen in some — was too green to burn yet, and the stout stems and heavy seed heads made walking as difficult as in a field of tangled sugar cane ; for long stretches it was not possible to see five yards, and the dew in the early mornings was so heavy that after a hundred yards of such going one was drenched to the skin. We were forced into the more open parts — the higher, stonier, more barren ground where just then the bigger game was by no means plentiful. On the third day two of us started out to try a new quarter in the hilly country rising towards the Berg. My companion, Francis, was an experienced hunter and his idea was that we should find the big game, not on the hot humid flats or the stony rises, but still higher up on the breezy hill tops or in the cool shady kloofs running towards the mountains. We passed a quantity of smaller game that morning, and several times heard the stampede of big animals — wildebeeste and waterbuck, as we found by the spoor — but it was absolutely impossible to see them. The dew was so heavy that even our hats were soaking wet, and times out of number we had to stop to wipe the water out of our eyes in order to see our way ; a complete duck- ing would not have made the least difference. Jock fared better than we did, finding openings and game tracks at his own level, which were of no use to us ; he also knew better than we did what was going on ahead, and it was tantalising in the extreme to 276 see him slow down and stand with his nose thrown up, giving quick soft sniffs and ranging his head from side to side, when he knew there was something quite close, and knew too that a few more toiling steps in that rank grass would be followed by a rush of some- thing which we would never see. Once we heard a foot stamp not twenty yards off, and stood for a couple of minutes on tip-toe trying to pierce the screen of grass in front, absolutely certain that eyes and ears were turned on us in death-like silence waiting for the last little proof of the intruder that would satisfy their owners and start them off before we could get a glimpse. The silence must have made them suspicious, for at some signal unknown to us the troop broke away and we had the mortifica- tion to see something, which we had ignored as a branch tilt slowly back and disappear : there was no mistaking the koodoo bull's horns once they moved ! After two hours of this we struck a stream, and there we made somewhat better pace and less noise, often taking to the bed of the creek for easier going. There, too, we found plenty of drinking places and plenty of fresh spoor of the bigger game, and as the , hills began to rise in view above the bush and trees, / we found what Francis was looking for. Something '^ caught his eye on the far side of the stream, and he waded in. I followed and when half way through saw the contented look on his face and caught his words : " Buffalo ! I thought so ! " We sat down then to think it out. The spoor told of a troop of a dozen to sixteen animals — bulls, cows, 277 and calves ; and it was that morning's spoor : even in the soft moist ground at the stream's edge the water had not yet oozed into most of the prints. Fortu- nately there was a light breeze from the hills, and as it seemed probable that in any case they would make that way for the hot part of the day we decided to follow for some distance on the track and then make for the likeliest poort in the hills. The buffalo had come up from the low country in the night on a course striking the creek diagonally at the drinking place ; their departing spoor went off at a slight tangent from the stream — the two trails making a very wide angle at the drinking place and confirming the idea that after their night's feed in the rich grass lower down they were making for the hills again in the morning and had touched at the stream to drink. Jock seemed to gather from our whispered conversa- tion and silent movements that there was work to hand, and his eyes moved from one face to the other as we talked, much as a child watches the faces in a con- versation it cannot quite follow. When we got up and began to move along the trail, he gave one of his little sideways bounds, as if he half thought of throw- ing a somersault and restrained himself ; and then with several approving waggings of his tail settled down at once to business. Jock went in front : it was best so, and quite safe, for, whilst certain to spot anything long before we could, there was not the least risk of his rushing it or making any noise. The slightest whisper of a " Hst " 278 from me would have brought him to a breathless standstill at any moment ; but even this was not likely to be needed, for he kept as close a watch on my face as I did on him. There was, of course, no difficulty whatever in following the spoor ; the animals were as big as cattle, and their trail through the rank grass was as plain as a road : our difficulty was to get near enough to see them without being heard. Under the down-trodden grass there were plenty of dry sticks to step on, any of which would have been as fatal to our chances as a pistol shot, and even the unavoidable rustle of the grass might betray us while the buffalo themselves remained hidden. Thus our progress was very slow, a particularly troublesome impediment being the grass stems thrown down across the trail by the animals crossing and re-crossing each others' spoor and stopping to crop a mouthful here and there or perhaps to play. The tambookie grass in these parts has a stem thicker than a lead pencil, more like young bamboo than grass ; and these stems thrown cross-ways by storms or game make an entanglement through which the foot cannot be forced : it means high stepping all the time. We expected to follow the spoor for several miles before coming on the buffalo — probably right into the kloof towards which it appeared to lead — but were, nevertheless, quite prepared to drop on to them at any moment, knowing well how game will loiter on their way when undisturbed and vary their time and course, instinctively avoiding the too regular habits which would make them an easy prey. 279 Jock moved steadily along the trodden track, sliding easily through the grass or jumping softly and noise- lessly over impediments, and we followed, looking ahead as far as the winding course of the trail per- mitted. To right and left of us stood the screen of tall grass, bush and trees. Once Jock stopped, throwing up his nose, and stood for some seconds while we held our breath ; but having satisfied himself that there was nothing of immediate consequence, he moved on again — rather more slowly, as it appeared to us. I looked at Francis's face ; it was pale and set like marble, and his watchful grey eyes were large and wide like an antelope's, as though opened out to take in everything ; and those moments of intense interest and expectation were the best part of a memorable day. There was something near : we felt it ! Jock was going more carefully than ever, with his head up most of the time ; and the feeling of expectation grew stronger and stronger until it amounted to absolute certainty. Then Jock stopped, stopped in mid- stride, not with his nose up ranging for scent, but with head erect, ears cocked, and tail poised — dead still : he was looking at something. We had reached the end of the grass where the bush and trees of the mountain slope had choked it out, and before us there was fairly thick bush mottled with black shadows and patches of bright sunlight in which it was most difficult to see anything. There we stood like statues, the dog in front with the two men abreast behind him, and all peering intently. Twice Jock 280 slowly turned his head and looked into my eyes, and I felt keenly the sense of hopeless inferiority. '* There it is, what are you going to do ? " was what the first look seemed to say ; and the second : " Well, what are you waiting for ? " How long we stood thus it is not possible to say : time is no measure of such things, and to me it seemed unending suspense ; but we stood our ground scarcely breathing, knowing that something was there, because he saw it and told us so, and knowing that as soon as we moved it would be gone. Then close to the ground there was a movement — something swung, and the full picture flashed upon us. It was a buffalo calf standing in the shade of a big bush with its back towards us, and it was the swishing of the tail that had betrayed it. We dared not breathe a word or pass a look — a face turned might have caught some glint of light and shown us up ; so we stood like statues each know- ing that the other was looking for the herd and would fire when he got a chance at one of the full-grown animals. My eyes were strained and burning from the in- tensity of the effort to see ; but except the calf I could not make out a living thing : the glare of the yellow grass in which we stood, and the sun-splotched darkness beyond it beat me. At last, in the corner of my eye, I saw Francis's rifle rise, as slowly — almost — as the mercury in a warmed thermometer. There was a long pause, and then came the shot and wild snorts of alarm and rage. A dozen huge black forms started 281 f into life for a second and as quickly vanished — scattering and crashing through the jungle. The first clear impression was that of Jock, who after one swift run forward for a few yards stood ready to spring off in pursuit, looking back at me and waiting for the word to go ; but at the sign of my raised hand, opened with palm towards him, he sub- sided slowly and lay down flat with his head resting on his' paws. " Did you see ? " asked Francis. " Not till you fired. I heard it strike. What was it ? " " Hanged if I know ! I heard it too. It was one of the big uns ; but bull or cow I don't know." " Where did you get it ? " " Well, I couldn't make out more than a black patch in the bush. It moved once, but I couldn't see how it was standing — end on or across. It may be hit anywhere. I took for the middle of the patch and let drive. Bit risky, eh ? " " Seems like taking chances." " Well, it was no use waiting : we came for this ! " and then he added with a careless laugh, " They always clear from the first shot if you get 'em at close quarters, but the fun'll begin now. Expect he'll lay for us in the track somewhere." That is the way of the wounded buffalo — we all knew that ; and old Rocky's advice came to mind with a good deal of point : " Keep cool and shoot straight — or stay right home " ; and Jock's expectant watchful look smote me with another memory — " It was my dawg ! " 282 A few yards from where the buffalo had stood we picked up the blood spoor. There was not very much of it, but we saw from the marks on the bushes here and there, and more distinctly on some grass further on, that the wound was pretty high up and on the right side. Crossing a small stretch of more open bush we reached the dense growth along the banks of the stream, and as this continued up into the kloof it was clear we had a tough job before us. Animals when badly wounded nearly always leave the herd, and very often go down wind so as to be able to scent and avoid their pursuers. This fellow had followed the herd up wind, and that rather puzzled us. A wounded buffalo in thick bush is considered to be about as nasty a customer as any one may desire to tackle ; for, its vindictive indomitable courage and extraordinary cunning are a very formidable combina- tion, as a long list of fatalities bears witness. Its favourite device — so old hunters will [tell you — is to make off down wind when hit, and after going for some distance, come back again in a semi-circle to intersect its own spoor, and there under good cover lie in wait for those who may follow up. This makes the sport quite as interesting as need be, for the chances are more nearly even than they generally are in hunting. The buffalo chooses the ground that suits its purpose of ambushing its enemy, and naturally selects a spot where concealment is possible ; but, making every allowance for this, it seems little short of a miracle that the huge black 283 beast is able to hide itself so effectually that it can charge from a distance of a dozen yards on to those who are searching for it. The secret of it seems to lie in two things : first, absolute stillness ; and second, breaking up the colour. No wild animal, except those protected by distance and open country, will stand against a background of light or of uniform colour, nor will it as a rule allow its own shape to form an unbroken patch against its chosen background. They work on Nature's lines. Look at the ostrich— the cock, black and handsome, so strikingly different from the commonplace grey hen ! Considering that for periods of six weeks at a stretch they are anchored to one spot hatching the eggs, turn and turn about, it seems that one or other must be an easy victim for the beast of prey, since the same background cannot possibly suit both. But they know that too ; so the grey hen sits by day, and the black cock by night ! And the ostrich is not the fool it is thought to be — burying its head in the sand ! Knowing how the long stem of a neck will catch the eye, it lays it flat on the ground, as other birds do, when danger threatens the nest or brood, and concealment is better than flight. That tame chicks will do this in a bare pad- dock is only a laughable assertion of instinct. Look at the zebra ! There is nothing more striking, nothing that arrests the eye more sharply — in the Zoo — than this vivid contrast of colour ; yet in the bush the wavy stripes of black and white, are a protec- tion, enabling him to hide at will. 284- I have seen a wildebeeste effectually hidden by a single blighted branch; a koodoo bull, by a few twisty sticks ; a crouching lion, by a wisp of feathery grass no higher than one's knee, no bigger than a vase of flowers ! Yet, the marvel of it is always fresh. After a couple of hundred yards of that sort of going, we changed our plan, taking to the creek again and making occasional cross-cuts to the trail, to be sure he was still ahead. It was certain then that the buffalo was following the herd and making for the poort, and as he had not stopped once on our account we took to the creek after the fourth cross- cut and made what pace we could to reach the narrow gorge where we reckoned to pick up the spoor again. There are, however, few short cuts — and no certain- ties— in hunting ; when we reached the poort there was no trace to be found of the wounded buffalo ; the rest of the herd had passed in, but we failed to find blood or other trace of the wounded one, and Jock was clearly as much at fault as we were. We had overshot the mark and there was nothing for it but to hark back to the last blood spoor and, by following it up, find out what had happened. This took over an hour, for we spoored him then with the utmost caution, being convinced that the buffalo, if not dead, was badly wounded and lying in wait for us. We came on his 'stand,' in a well-chosen spot, where the game path took a sharp turn round some heavy bushes. The buffalo had stood, not where one would naturally expect it — in the dense cover which seemed 285 just suited for his purpose — but among lighter bush on the opposite side and about twenty yards nearer to us. There was no room for doubt about his hostile intentions ; and when we re- called how we had instantly picked out the thick bush on the left — to the exclusion of everything else — as the spot to be watched, his selection of more open ground on the other side, and nearer to us, seemed so fiendishly clever that it made one feel cold and creepy. One hesitates to say it was deliberately planned ; yet —plan, instinct or accident — there was the fact. The marks showed us he was badly hit ; but there was no limb broken, and no doubt he was good for some hours yet. We followed along the spoor, more cautiously than ever ; and when we reached the sharp turn beyond the thick bush we found that the path was only a few yards from the stream, so that on our way up the bed of the creek we had passed within twenty yards of where the buffalo was waiting for us. No doubt he had heard us then as we walked past, and had winded us later on when we got ahead of him into the poort. What * had he made of it ? What had he done ? Had he followed up to attack us ? Was he waiting somewhere near ? Or had he broken away into the bush on finding himself headed off ? These were some of the questions we asked our- selves as we crept along. Well ! what he had done did not answer our ques- tions. On reaching the poort again we found his spoor, freshly made since we had been there, and he had walked right along through the gorge without stopping again, 286 and gone into the kloof beyond. Whether he had followed us up when we got ahead of him — hoping to stalk us from behind; or had gone ahead, expecting to meet us coming down wind to look for him ; or, when he heard us pass down stream again — and, it may be, thought we had given up pursuit — had simply walked on after the herd, were questions never answered. A breeze had risen since morning, and as we ap- proached the hills it grew stronger : in the poort itself it was far too strong for our purpose — the wind coming through the narrow opening like a forced draught. The herd would not stand there, and it was not prob- able that the wounded animal would stop until he joined the others or reached a more sheltered place. We were keen on the chase, and as he had about an hour's start of us and it was already midday, there was no time to waste. Inside the poort the kloof opened out into a big valley away to our left — our left being the right bank of the stream — and bordering the valley on that side there were many miles of timbered kloofs and green slopes, with a few kaffir kraals visible in the distance ; but to the right the formation was quite different, and rather peculiar. The stream — known to the natives as Hlamba-Nyati, or Buffalo's Bathing Place — had in the course of time shortened its course to the poort by eating into the left bank, thus leaving a high, and in most places, inaccessible terrace above it on the left side and a wide stretch of flat alluvium on the right. This terrace was bounded on one side 287 by the steep bank of the creek and walled in on the other side by the precipitous kranses of the mountains. At the top end it opened out like a fan which died away in a frayed edge in the numberless small kloofs and spurs fringing the amphitheatre of the hills. The shape was in fact something like the human arm and hand with the fingers outspread. The elbow was the poort, the arm the terrace — except that the terrace was irregularly curved — and the fingers the small kloofs in the mountains. No doubt the haunts of the buffalo were away in the * fingers,' and we worked steadily along the spoor in that direction. ^Game paths were numerous and very irregular, and the place was a perfect jungle of trees, bush, bramble and the tallest rankest grass. I have ridden in that valley many times since then through grass standing several feet above my head. It was desperately hard work, but we did want to get the buffalo ; and although the place was full of game and we put up koodoo, wildebeeste, rietbuck, bushbuck, and duiker, we held to the wounded buffalo's spoor, neglecting all else. Just before ascending the terrace we had heard the curious far-travelling sound of kaffirs calling to each other from a distance, but, except for a passing corn- men t, paid no heed to it and passed on ; laterwe heard it again and again, and at last, when we happened to pause in a more open portion of the bush after we had gone half way along the terrace, the calling became so frequent and came from so many quarters thatwe stopped to take note. Francis, who spoke Zulu like 288 one of themselves, at last made out a word or two which gave the clue. " They're after the wounded buffalo ! " he said. " Come on, man, before they get their dogs, or we'll never see him again." Knowing then that the buffalo was a long way ahead we scrambled on as fast as we could whilst holding to his track ; but it was very hot and very rough and, to add to our troubles, smoke from a grass fire came driving into our faces. "Niggers burning on the slopes ; confound them ! " Francis growled. They habitually fire the grass in patches during the summer and autumn, as soon as it is dry enough to burn, in order to get young grass for the winter or the early spring, and although the smoke worried us there did not seem to be anything unusual about the fire. But ten minutes later we stopped again ; the smoke was per- ceptibly thicker ; birds were flying past us down wind, with numbers of locusts and other insects ; two or three times we heard buck and other animals break back ; and all were going the same way. Then the same thought struck us both — it was stamped in our faces : this was no ordinary mountain grass fire ; it was the bush. Francis was a quiet fellow, one of the sort it is well not to rouse. His grave is in the Bushveld where his unbeaten record among intrepid lion-hunters was made, and where he fell in the war, leaving another and greater record to his name. The blood rose slowly to his face, until it was bricky red, and he looked an ugly customer as he said : 289 T " The black brutes have fired the valley to burn him out. Come on quick. We must get out of this on to the slopes ! " We did not know then that there were no slopes III — only a precipitous face of rock with dense jungle ||/ to the foot of it ; and after we had spent a quarter of an hour in that effort, we found our way blocked by the krans and a tangle of undergrowth much worse than that in the middle of the terrace. The noise made by the wind in the trees and our struggling through the grass and bush had prevented our hearing the fire at first, but now its ever growing roar drowned all sounds. Ordinarily, there would have been no real difficulty in avoiding a bush fire ; but, pinned in between the river and the precipice and with miles of dense bush behind us, it was not at all pleasant, Had we turned back even then and made for the poort it is possible we might have travelled faster than the fire, but it would have been rough work indeed ; moreover, that would have been going back — and we did want to get the buffalo — so we decided to make one more try, towards the river this time. It was not much of a try, however, and we had gone no further than the middle of the terrace again when it became alarmingly clear that this fire meant business. The wind increased greatly, as it always does once a bush fire gets a start ; the air was thick with smoke, and full of flying things ; in the bush and grass about us there was a constant scurrying ; the terror of stampede was in the very atmosphere. A few words 290 q of consultation decided us, and we started to burn a patch for standing room and protection. The hot sun and strong wind had long evaporated all the dew and moisture from the grass, but the sap was still up, and the fire — our fire — seemed cruelly long in catching on. With bunches of dry grass for brands we started burns in twenty places over a length of a hundred yards, and each little flame licked up, spread a little, and then hesitated or died out : it seemed as if ours would never take, while the other came on with roars and leaps, sweeping clouds of sparks and ash over us in the dense rolling mass of smoke. At last a fierce rush of wind struck down on us, and in a few seconds each little flame became a living demon of destruction ; another minute, and the stretch before us was a field of swaying flame. There was a sudden roar and crackle, as of musketry, and the whole mass seemed lifted into the air in one blazing sheet : it simply leaped into life and swept everything before it. When we opened our scorched eyes the ground in front of us was all black, with only here and there odd lights and torches dotted about — like tapers on a pall ; and on ahead, beyond the trellis work of bare scorched trees, the wall of flame swept on. Then down on the wings of the wind came the other fire ; and before it fled every living thing. Heaven I only knows what passed us in those few minutes when a broken stream of terrified creatures dashed by, _ hardly swerving to avoid us. There is no coherent^ picture left of that scene— just a medley of ^ impres- sions linked up by flashes of unforgettable vividness 291 A herd of koodoo came crashing by ; I know there was a herd, but only the first and last will come to mind — the space between seems blurred. The clear impres- sions are of the koodoo bull in front, with nose out- thrust, eyes shut against the bush, zmd great horns laid back upon the withers, as he swept along opening the way for his herd ; and then, as they vanished, the big ears, ewe neck, and tilting hindquarters of the last cow — between them nothing but a mass of moving grey ! The wildebeeste went by in Indian file, uniform in shape, colour and horns ; and strangely uniform in their mechanical action, lowered heads, and fiercely determined rush. A rietbuck ram stopped close to us, looked back wide-eyed and anxious, and whistled shrilly, and then cantered on with head erect and white tail flapping ; but its mate neither answered nor came by. A terri- fied hare with its ears laid flat scuttled past within a yard of Francis and did not seem to see him. Above us scared birds swept or fluttered down wind ; while others again came up swirling and swinging about, darting boldly through the smoke to catch the insects driven before the fire. But what comes back with the suggestion of in- finitely pathetic helplessness is the picture of a beetle. We stood on the edge of our burn, waiting for the ground to cool, and at my feet a pair of tock- tockie beetles, hump backed and bandy legged, came toiling slowly and earnestly along ; they reached the edge of our burn, touched the warm ash, turned patiently aside — to walk round it ! > 292 A school of chattering monkeys raced out on to the blackened flat, and screamed shrilly with terror as the hot earth and cinders burnt their feet. Porcupine, antbear, meerkat ! They are vague, so vague that nothing is left but the shadow of their passing ; but there is one other thing — seen in a flash as brief as the others, for a second or two only, but never to be forgotten ! Out of the yellow grass, high up in the waving tops, came sailing down on us the swaying head and glittering eyes of a black mamba — swiftest, most vicious, most deadly of snakes. Francis and I were not five yards apart and it passed between us, giving a quick chilly beady look at each — pitiless, and hateful — and one hiss as the slithering tongue shot out : that was all, and it sailed past with strange effortless movement. How much of the body was on the ground propelling it, I cannot even guess ; but we had to look upwards to see the head as the snake passed between us. The scorching breath of the fire drove us before it on to the baked ground, inches deep in ashes and glow- ing cinders, where we kept marking time to ease our blistering feet ; our hats were pulled down to screen our necks as we stood with our backs to the coming flames ; our flannel shirts were so hot that we kept shift- ing our shoulders for relief. Jock, who had no screen and whose feet had no protection, was in my arms ; and we strove to shield ourselves from the furnace- blast with the branches we had used to beat out the fire round the big tree which was our main shelter. The heat was awful ! Live brands 293 flying past all the time, and some struck us ; myriads of sparks fell round and on us, burning numberless small holes in our clothing, and dotting blisters on our backs ; £rcat s^eets °f flame leaped out from the driving glare, and, detached by many yards from their source, were visible for quite a space in front of us. Then, just at its maddest and fiercest there came a gasp and sob, and the fire devil died behind us as it reached the black bare ground. Our burn divided it as an island splits the flood, and it swept along our flanks in two great walls of living leaping roaring flame. Two hundred yards away there was a bare yellow place in a world of inky black, and to that haven we ran. It was strange to look about and see the naked country all round us, where but a few minutes earlier the tall grass had shut us in ; but the big bare ant- heap was untouched, and there we flung ourselves down, utterly done. Faint from heat and exhaustion — scorched and blistered, face and arms, back and feet ; weary and footsore, and with boots burnt through — we reached camp long after dark, glad to be alive. We had forgotten the wounded buffalo ; he seemed part of another life ! ***** There was no more hunting for us : our feet had * gone in,' and we were well content to sleep and rest. The burnt stubbly ends of the grass had pierced the baked leather of our boots many times ; and Jock, too, had suffered badly and could hardly bear to set foot 294 to the ground next day. The best we could hope for was to be sound enough to return to our own waggons in two or three days' time. The camp was under a very large wild fig tree, whose dense canopy gave us shade all through the day. We had burnt the grass for some twenty or thirty yards round as a protection against bush fires ; and as the trees and scrub were not thick just there it was possible to see in various directions rather further than one usually can in the Bushveld. The big tree was a fair landmark by day, and at night we made a good fire, which owing to the position of the camp one could see from a considerable distance. These precautions were for the benefit of strayed or belated members of the party ; but I mention them because the position of the camp and the fire brought us a strange visitor the last night of our stay there. There were, I think, seven white men ; and the moving spirit of the party — old Teddy Blacklow of Ballarat — was one of the old alluvial diggers, a warm- hearted, impulsive, ever-young old boy, and a rare good sportsman. That was Teddy, the * man in muddy moleskins,' who stretched out the hand of friendship when the Boy was down, and said " You come along o' me ! " one of * God's sort.' Teddy's spirits were always up ; his presence breathed a cheery optimism on the blankest day ; his humour lighted everything ; his stories kept us going ; and his language was a joy for ever. In a community, in which such things savoured of eccen- tricity, Teddy was an abstainer and never swore; 295 but if actual profanity was avoided, the dear old boy all unconsciously afforded strong support to those who hold that a man must find relief in vigorous ex- pression. To do this, without violating his principles, he invented words and phrases, meaningless in them- selves but in general outline, so to say, resembling the worst in vogue ; and the effect produced by them upon the sensitive was simply horrifying. Teddy himself was blissfully unconscious of this, for his lan- guage, being scrupulously innocent, was deemed by him to be suited to all circumstances and to every company. The inevitable consequence was that the first impression produced by him on the few women he ever met was that of an abandoned old reprobate whose scant veil of disguise only made the outrage of his language more marked. Poor old Teddy ! Kindest and gentlest and dearest of souls ! How he would have stared at this, speechless with surprise ; and how we used to laugh at what some one called his ' glittering paro-fanities ! ' Pity it is that they too must go ; for one dare not reproduce the best of them. It was between eight and nine o'clock on the last day of our stay ; Francis and I were fit again, and Jock's feet, thanks to care and washing and plenty of castor oil, no longer troubled him ; we were examin- ing our boots — re-soled now with raw hide in the rough but effective veld fashion ; Teddy was holding forth about the day's chase whilst he cut away the pith of a koodoo's horns and scraped the skull ; others were busy on their trophies too ; and the karfirs round their own fire were keeping up the simultaneous 296 gabble characteristic of hunting boys after a good day and with plenty of meat in camp. I was sitting on a small camp stool critically examin- ing a boot and wondering if the dried hide would grip well enough to permit of the top lacings being removed, and Jock was lying in front of me, carefully licking the last sore spot on one fore paw, when I saw his head switch up suddenly and his whole body set hard in a study of intense listening. Then he got up and trotted briskly off some ten or fifteen yards, and stood — a bright spot picked out by the glare of the camp fire — with his back towards me and his uneven ears topping him off. I walked out to him, and silence fell on the camp ; all watched and listened. At first we heard nothing, but soon the call of a wild dog explained Jock's move- ments ; the sound, however, did not come from the direction in which he was looking, but a good deal to the right ; and as he instantly looked to this new quarter I concluded that this was not the dog he had previously heard, or else it must have moved rapidly. There was another wait, and then there followed calls from other quarters. There was nothing unusual in the presence of wild dogs : hyenas, jackals, wild dogs and all the smaller beasts of prey were heard nightly ; what attracted attention in this case was the regular calling from different points. The boys said the wild dogs were hunting something and calling to each other to indicate the direction of the hunt, so that those in front might turn the buck and by keeping it in a circle 297 , enable fresh or rested dogs to jump in from time to time and so, eventually, wear the poor hunted creature down. This, according to the natives, is the system of the wild pack. When they cannot find easy prey in the young, weak or wounded, and are forced by hunger to hunt hard, they first scatter widely over the chosen area where game is located, and then one buck is chosen — the easiest victim, a ewe with young for choice — and cutting it out from the herd, they follow that one and that alone with remorseless in- vincible persistency. They begin the hunt knowing that it will last for hours — knowing too that in speed they have no chance against the buck — and when the intended victim is cut out from the herd one or two of the dogs — so the natives say — take up the chase and with long easy gallop keep it going, giving no moment's rest for breath ; from time to time they give their weird peculiar call and others of the pack — posted afar — head the buck off to turn it back again ; the fresh ones then take up the chase, and the first pair drop out to rest and wait, or follow slowly until their chance and turn come round again. There is something so hateful in the calculated pitiless method that one feels it a duty to kill the cruel brutes when- ever a chance occurs. The hunt went on round us ; sometimes near enough to hear the dogs' eager cries quite clearly ; sometimes so far away that for a while nothing could be heard ; and Jock moved from point to point in the outermost circle of the camp-fire's light nearest to the chase. 298 When at last hunters and hunted completed their wide circuit round the camp, and passed again the point where we had first heard them, the end seemed near ; for there were no longer single calls widely separated, but the voices of the pack in hot close chase. They seemed to be passing half a mile away from us ; but in the stillness of the night sound travels far, and one can only guess. Again a little while and the cries sounded nearer and as if coming from one quarter — not moving round us as before ; and a few minutes more, and it was certain they were still nearer and coming straight towards us. We took our guns then, and I called Jock back to where we stood under the tree with our backs to the fire. The growing sounds came on out of the night where all was hidden with the weird crescendo effect of a coming flood ; we could pick them out then — the louder harsher cries ; the crashing through bush ; the rush in grass ; the sobbing gasps in front ; and the hungry panting after. The hunt came at us like a cyclone out of the stillness, and in the forefront of it there burst into the circle of light an impala ewe with open mouth and haunting hunted despairing eyes and wide spread ears ; and the last staggering strides brought her in among us, tumbling at our feet. A kaffir jumped out with assegai aloft ; but Teddy, with the spring of a tiger and a yell of rage, swung his rifle round and down on assegai arm and head, and dropped the boy in his tracks. " Go-sh !— Da-11 ! Cr-r-r-i-miny ! What dthe Hex are you up to ? " and the fiery soft-hearted old 299 boy was down on to his knees in a second, panting with anger and excitement, and threw his arms about the buck. The foremost of the pack followed hot foot close behind the buck — oblivious of fire and men, If/' seeing nothing but the quarry — and at a distance of if five yards a mixed volley of bullets and assegais tumbled it over. Another followed, and again another : both fell where they had stopped, a dozen yards away, puzzled by the fire and the shooting ; and still more and more came on, but, warned by the unexpected check in front, they stopped at the clearing's edge, until over twenty pairs of eyes reflecting the fire's light shone out at us in a rough semi-circle. The shot guns came in better then ; and more than half the pack went under that night before the others cleared off. Perhaps they did not realise that the shots and flashes were not part of the camp fire from which they seemed to come ; perhaps their system of never relinquishing a chase had not been tried against the white man before. One of the wild dogs, wounded by a shot, seemed to go mad with agony and raced straight into the clear- ing towards the fire, uttering the strangest maniac-like yaps. Jock had all along been straining to go for them from where I had jammed him between my feet as I sat and fired, and the charge of this dog was more than he could bear : he shot out like a rocket, and the col- lision sent the two flying apart ; but he was on to the wild dog again and had it by the throat before it could recover. Instantly the row of lights went out, as if 300 switched off — they were no longer looking at us ; there was a rustle and a sound of padded feet, and dim grey-looking forms gathered at the edge of the clearing nearest where Jock and the wounded dog fought. I shouted to Jock to come back, and several of us ran out to help, just as another of the pack made a dash in. It seemed certain that Jock, gripping and worrying his enemy's throat, had neither time nor thought for anything else ; yet as the fresh dog came at him he let go his grip of the other, and jumped to meet the new-comer; in mid-spring Jock caught the other by the ear and the two spun completely round — their positions being reversed ; then, with another wrench as he landed, he flung the attacker behind him and jumped back at the wounded one which had already turned to go. It looked like the clean and easy movement of a finished gymnast. It was an affair of a few seconds only, for of course the instant we got a chance at the dogs, without the risk to Jock, both were shot ; and he, struggling to get at the others, was haled back to the tree. While this was going on the impala stood with wide spread legs, dazed and helpless, between Teddy's feet, j'ust as he had placed it. Its breath came in broken choking sobs ; the look of terror and despair had not yet faded from the staring eyes ; the head swayed from side to side ; the mouth hung open and the tongue lolled out ; all told beyond the power of words the tale of desperate struggle and exhaustion. It drank greedily from dish that Teddy held for it— emptied 301 the it and five minutes later drank it again and then lay down. For half an hour it lay there, slowly recovering ; sometimes for spells of a few minutes it appeared to breathe normally once more ; then the heavy open- mouthed panting would return again ; and all the time Teddy kept on stroking or patting it gently and talking to it as if he were comforting a child, and every now and then bursting out with sudden gusty execrations, in his own particular style, of wild dogs and kaffirs. At last it rose briskly, and standing be- tween his knees looked about, taking no notice of Teddy's hands laid on either side and gently patting it. No one moved or spoke. Jock, at my feet, appeared most interested of all, but I am afraid his views differed considerably from ours on that occasion, and he must have been greatly puzzled ; he remained watching intently with his head laid on his paws, his ears cocked, and his brown eyes fixed unblinkingly ; and at each movement on the buck's part something stirred in him, drawing every muscle tense and ready for the spring- internal grips which were reflected in the twitching and stiffening of his neck and back ; but each time as I laid a hand on him he slackened out again and subsided. We sat like statues as the impala walked out from its stall between Teddy's knees, and stood looking about wonderingly at the faces white and black, at the strange figures, and at the fire. It stepped out quite quietly, much as it might have moved about here and there any peaceful morning in its usual haunts ; the 302 Q O o 0 head swung about briskly, but unalarmed ; and ears and eyes were turned this way and that in easy con- fidence and mild curiosity. With a few more steps it threaded its way close to one sitting figure and round a bucket ; stepped daintily over Teddy's rifle ; and passed the koodoo's head un- noticed. It seemed to us — even to us, and at the moment — like a scene in fairyland in which some spell held us while the beautiful wild thing strolled about un- frightened. A few yards away it stopped for perhaps a couple of minutes ; its back was towards us and the fire ;' the silence was absolute ; and it stood thus with eyes and ears for the bush alone. There was a warning whisk of the white tail and it started off again — this time at a brisk trot — and we thought it had gone ; but at the edge of the clearing it once more stood and listened. Now and again the ears flickered and the head turned slightly one way or another, but no sound came from the bush ; the out-thrust nose was raised with gentle tosses, but no taint reached it on the gentle breeze. All was well ! It looked slowly round, giving one long full gaze back at us which seemed to be " Good-bye, and — thank you ! " and cantered out into the dark. SNOWBALL was an ' old soldier ' — I say it with all respect ! He had been through the wars ; that is to say, he had seen the ups and downs of life and had learnt the equine equivalent of " God helps those who help themselves." For Snowball was a horse. Tsetse was also an old soldier, but he was what you might call a gentleman old soldier, with a sense of duty ; and in his case the discipline and honour of his calling were not garments for occasion but part of himself. Snowball was no gentleman : he was selfish and unscrupulous, a confirmed shirker, often absent without leave, and upon occasions a rank deserter — for which last he once narrowly escaped being shot. Tsetse belonged to my friend Hall ; but Snowball was mine ! What I know about him was learnt with mortification of the spirit and flesh ; and what he could not teach in that way was ' over the head ' of the most indurated old dodger that ever lived. Tsetse had his peculiarities and prejudices : like many old soldiers he was a stickler for etiquette and did not like departures from habit and routine ; for 3°4 instance, he would not under any circumstances permit mounting on the wrong side — a most prepos- terous stand for an old salted shooting horse to take, and the cause of much inconvenience at times. On the mountains it often happened that the path was too narrow and the slope too steep to permit one to mount on the left side, whereas the sharp rise of the ground made it very easy on the right. But Tsetse made no allowance for this, and if the attempt were made he would stand quite still until the rider was off the ground but not yet in the saddle, and then buck continuously until the offender shot overhead and went skidding down the slope. To one encumbered with a rifle in hand, and a kettle or perhaps a couple of legs of buck slung on the saddle, Tsetse's protest was usually irresistible. Snowball had no unpractical prejudices : he objected to work — that was all. He was a pure white horse, goodness knows how old, with enormously long teeth ; every vestige of grey or other tinge had faded out of him, and his eyes had an aged and resigned look : one warmed to him at sight as a " dear old pet of a Dobbin ! " who ought to be passing his last years grazing contentedly in a meadow and giving bare- back rides to little children. The reproach of his venerable look nearly put me off taking him — it seemed such a shame to make the dear old fellow work ; but I hardened my heart and, feeling rather a brute, bought him because he was ' salted ' and would live in the Bushveld : beside that, all other considerations were trivial. Of course he was said to be a shooting 305 u horse, and he certainly took no notice of a gun fired under his nose or from his back — which was all the test I could apply at the time ; and then his legs were quite sound ; his feet were excellent ; he had lost no teeth yet ; and he was in tip top condition. What more could one want ? " He looks rather a fool of a horse ! " I had remarked dubiously to Joey the Smith, who was * willin' to let him go,' and I can recall now the peculiar glint in Joey's eye and the way he sort of steadied himself with a little cough before he answered feelingly : " He's no fool, sonny ! You won't want to get a cleverer horse as long as you live ! " And no more I did — as we used to say ! Snowball had one disfigurement, consisting of a large black swelling as big as a small orange behind his left eye, which must have annoyed him greatly ; it could easily have been removed, and many sugges- tions were made on the subject but all of them were firmly declined. Without that lump I should have had no chance against him : it was the weak spot in his defence : it was the only cover under which it was possible to stalk him when he made one of his determined attempts to dodge or desert ; for he could see nothing that came up behind him on the left side without turning his head completely round ; hence one part of the country was always hidden from him, and of course it was from this quarter that we in- variably made our approaches to attack. So well did Snowball realise this that when the old villain intended giving trouble he would start off with 306 his head swung away to the right, and when far enough away to graze in security — a hundred yards or so was enough — would turn right about and face towards the waggons or camp, or wherever the danger-quarter was ; then, keeping us well in view, he would either graze off sideways, or from time to time walk briskly off to occupy a new place, with the right eye swung round on us like a search-light. Against all this, however, it is only fair to admit that there were times when for days, and even weeks, at a stretch he would behave admirably, giving no more trouble than Jock did. Moreover he had qualities which were not to be despised . he was as sound as a bell, very clever on his feet, never lost his condi- tion, and, although not fast, could last for ever at his own pace. Experience taught me to take no chances with Snow- ball. After a hard day he was apt to think that ' enough was as good as a feast,' and then trouble might be expected. But there was really no safe rule with him ; he seemed to have moods — to ' get out of bed on the wrong side ' — on certain days and, for no reason in the world, behave with a calculated hostility that was simply maddening. Hunting horses live almost entirely by grazing, as it is seldom possible to carry any grain or other foods for them and never possible to carry enough ; and salted horses have therefore a particular value in that they can be turned out to graze at night or in the morn- ing and evening dews when animals not immunised will contract horse-sickness ; thus 3°7 feed during the hours when hunting is not possible and keep their condition when an unsalted horse would fall away from sheer want of food. According to their training, disposition, and know- ledge of good and evil, horses are differently treated when ' offsaddled ' ; some may be trusted without even a halter, and can be caught and saddled when and where required ; others are knee-haltered ; others are hobbled by a strap coupling either both fore feet, or one fore and one hind foot, with enough slack to allow walking, but not enough for the greater reach of a trot or gallop ; whilst some incorrigibles are both knee- haltered and hobbled ; and in this gallery Snowball figured upon occasion — a mournful and injured inno- cent, if appearances went for anything 1 It was not, as a rule, at the outspan, where many hands were available, that Snowball gave trouble, but out hunting when I was alone or with only one companion. A trained shooting horse should stop as soon as his rider lays hand on mane to dismount, and should remain where he is left for any length of time until his master returns ; some horses require the reins to be dropped over their heads to remind them of their duty but many can safely be left to them- selves and will be found grazing quietly where left. Snowball knew well what to do, but he pleased himself about doing it ; sometimes he would stand ; sometimes move off a little way, and keep moving- just out of reach — holding his head well on one side so that he should not tread on the trailing reins or the long weighted reimpje which was attached to his bit 308 for the purpose of hindering and catching him ; some- times, with a troop of buck moving on ahead or perhaps a wounded one to follow, this old sinner would right- about-face and simply walk off — only a few yards separating us — with his ears laid back, his tail tucked down ominously, and occasional little liftings of his hindquarters to let me know what to expect — and his right eye on me all the while ; and, if I ran to head him off, he would break into a trot and leave me a little worse off than before; and sometimes, in familiar country, he would make straight away for the waggons without more ado. It is demoralising in the extreme to be expecting a jerk when in the act of aiming — and Snowball, who cared no more for shooting than a deaf gunner, would plunge like a two-year-old when he was play-acting — and it is little better, while creeping forward for a shot, to hear your horse strolling off behind and realise that you will have to hunt for him and perhaps walk many miles back to camp without means of carrying anything you may shoot. The result of experience was that I had to choose between two alternatives : either to hook him up to a tree or bush each time or hobble him with his reins, and so lose many good chances of quick shots when coming unexpectedly on game ; or to slip an arm through the reins and take chance of being plucked off my aim or jerked violently backwards as I fired. But it was at the * offsaddles ' on long journeys across country or during the rest in a day's hunt that trouble was most to be feared, and although hobbling is dangerous in a country so full of holes, stumps, and 3°9 all sorts of grass-hidden obstacles, there were times when consideration for Snowball seemed mighty like pure foolishness, and it would have been no grief to me if he had broken his neck ! To the credit of Snowball stand certain things, however, and it is but justice to say that, when once in the ranks, he played his part well ; and it is due to him to say that during one hard season a camp of waggons with their complement of men had to be kept in meat, and it was Snowball who carried — for short and long distances, through dry rough country, at all times of day and night, hot, thirsty and tired, and without a breakdown or a day's sickness — a bag that totalled many thousands of pounds in weight, and the man who made the bag. " That wall-eyed brute of yours " was launched at me in bitterness of spirit on many occasions when Snowball led the normally well-behaved ones astray ; and it is curious to note how strength of character or clear purpose will establish leadership among animals, as among men. Rooiland the restless, when dissatis- fied with the grass or in want of water, would cast about up wind for a few minutes and then with his hot eyeballs staring and nostrils well distended choose his line, going resolutely along and only pausing from time to time to give a low moan for signal and allow the straggling string of unquestioning followers to catch up. When Rooiland had ' trek fever ' there was no rest for herd boys. So too with old Snowball : he led the well-behaved astray and they followed him blindly. Had Snowball been a schoolboy, a wise 310 headmaster would have expelled him — for the general good and discipline of the school. On one long horseback journey through Swaziland to the coast, where few white men and no horses had yet been seen, we learned to know Snowball and Tsetse well, and found out what a horse can do when put to it. It was a curious experience on that trip to see whole villages flee in terror at the first sight of the new strange animals — one brown and one white ; in some places not even the grown men would ap- proach, but too proud to show fear, they stood their ground, their bronze faces blanching visibly and setting hard as we rode up ; the women fled with half-stifled cries of alarm ; and once, when we came unexpectedly upon a party of naked urchins playing on the banks of a stream, the whole pack set off full cry for the water and, jumping in like a school of alarmed frogs, disappeared. Infinitely amused by the stampede we rode up to see what had become of them, but the silence was absolute, and for a while they seemed to have vanished altogether; then a tell-tale ripple gave the clue, and under the banks among the ferns and exposed roots we picked out little black faces half submerged and pairs of frightened eyes staring at us from all sides. They were not to be reassured, either : the only effect pro- duced by our laughing comments and friendly overtures being that the head which deemed &&«£ itself pointedly addressed would' disappear completely and remain so long out of sight as to make us feel quite smothery and criminally responsible. 3" It is in the rivers that a man feels the importance of a good horse with a stout heart, and his dependence on it. There were no roads, and not even known tracks, there ; and when we reached the Black Umbelusi we picked a place where there was little current and apparently an easy way out on the opposite side. It was much deeper than it looked ; however, we were prepared, and thirty yards of swimming did not trouble us ; yet it certainly was a surprise to us when the horses swam right up to the other bank without finding bottom and, turning aside, began to swim up stream. Looking down into the clear depths we saw that there was a sheer wall of rock to within a few inches of the surface. Now, a horse with a man on his back swims low — only the head and half the neck showing above water — and by what instinct or means the horses realised the position I do not know, but, with little hesitation and apparently of one accord, they got back a yard or two from the ledge and, raising first one fore foot and then the other, literally climbed out — exactly as a man or a dog does out of a swimming bath — hoisting their riders out with them without apparent difficulty. That was something which we had not thought possible, and to satisfy ourselves we dismounted and tried the depth ; but the ten foot reeds failed to reach bottom. When it came to crossing the Crocodile River we chose the widest spot in the hope that it would be shallow and free of rocks. We fired some shots into the river to scare the crocodiles, and started to 312 cross ; but to our surprise Tsetse, the strong-nerved and reliable, who always had the post of honour in front, absolutely refused to enter. The water of the Crocodile is at its best of amber clearness and we could not see bottom, but the sloping grassy bank promised well enough and no hint reached us of what the horses knew quite well. All we had was on our horses — food, blankets, billy, rifles and ammunition. We were off on a long trip and, to vary or supplement the game diet, carried a small packet of tea, a little sugar, flour, and salt, and some beads with which to trade for native fowls and thick milk ; the guns had to do the rest. Thus there were certain things we could not afford to wet, and these we used to wrap up in a mackintosh and carry high when it came to swimming, but this crossing looked so easy that it seemed sufficient to raise the packs instead of carrying part of them. ; j ,^ Tsetse, who in the ordinary way regarded the spur as part of the accepted discipline, promptly resented it when there seemed to him to be sufficient reason ; and when Hall, astonished at Tsetse's unexpected obstinacy, gave him both heels, the old horse consider- ately swung round away from the river, and with a couple of neatly executed bucks shot his encumbered ? rider off the raised pack, yards away on to the soft ^ grass — water-bottle, rifle, bandolier and man landing in a lovely tangle. I then put old Snowball at it, fully expecting trouble ; but the old soldier was quite at home; he walked quietly to the edge 3 1 3 \\mrammM\Mi\ sat [down comfortably, and slid into the water — launching himself with scarce a ripple just like 'an old hippo. That gave us the explanation of Tsetse's tantrum : the water came up to the seat of my saddle and walking was only just possible. I stopped at once, waiting for Tsetse to follow ; and Hall, prepared for another refusal, sat back and again used his spurs. No doubt Tsetse, once he knew the depth, was quite satisfied and meant to go in quietly, and the prick of the spur must have been unexpected, for he gave a plunge forward, landing with his fore feet in deep water and hind quarters still on the bank, and Hall shot out overhead, landing half across old Snowball's back. There was a moment of ludicrous but agonised suspense ! Hall's legs were firmly grip- ping Tsetse behind the ears while he sprawled on his stomach on Snowball's crupper, with the reins still in one hand and the rifle in the other. Doubled up with suppressed laughter I grabbed a fist full of shirt and held on, every moment expecting Tsetse to hoist his head or pull back and complete the disaster, while Hall was spluttering out directions, entreaties and imprecations ; but good old Tsetse never moved, and Hall handing me the rifle managed to swarm back- wards on to Tsetse's withers and scramble on to the pack again. Then, saddle-deep in the river — duckings and crocodiles forgotten — we sat looking at each other and laughed till we ached. The river was about three hundred yards wide there with a good sandy bottom and of uniform depth, 3H but, to our disappointment, we found that the other bank which had appeared to slope gently to the water edge was in fact a sheer wall standing up several feet above the river level. The beautiful slope which we had seen consisted of water grass and reed tops ; the bank itself was of firm moist clay ; and the river bottom close under it was soft mud. We tried a little way up and down, but found deeper water, more mud and reeds, and no break in the bank ; there was not even a lagavaan slide, a game path, or a drinking-place. There seemed to be nothing for it but to go back again and try somewhere else. Hall was * bad to beat ' when he started on any- thing— he did not know how to give in ; but when he looked at the bank and said, " We'll have a shot at this," I thought at first he was joking. Later, to my remark that "no horse ever born would face that," he answered that " any way we could try : it would be just as good as hunting for more places of the same sort ! " I do not know the height of the bank, as we were not thinking of records at that time, but there are certain facts which enable one to guess fairly closely. Tsetse was ranged up beside the bank, and Hall standing in the saddle threw his rifle and bandolier up and scrambled out himself. I then loosened Tsetse's girths from my seat on Snowball, and handed up the packed saddle — Hall lying down on the^bank to take it from me ; and we did the same with Snowball's load, including my own clothes, for, as it was already sundown, a ducking was not desirable, 315 I loosened one side of Tsetse's reins, and after attach- ing one of mine in order to give the necessary length to them threw the end up to Hall, and he cut and handed me a long supple rod for a whip to stir Tsetse to his best endeavours. The water there was rather more than half saddle-flap high ; I know that because it just left me a good expanse of hindquarters to aim at when the moment came. " Now ! " yelled Hall, " Up, Tsetse ! Up ! " ; and whack went the stick ! Tsetse reared up, right on end ; he could not reach the top but struck his fore feet into the moist bank near the top, and with a mighty plunge that soused Snowball and me, went out. The tug on the leading rein, on which Hall had thrown all his weight when Tsetse used it to lever himself up, had jerked Hall flat on his face ; but he was up in a minute, and releasing Tsetse threw back the rein to get Snowball to face it while the example was fresh. Then for the first time we thought of the crocodiles — and the river was full of them ! But Snowball without some one behind him with a stick would never face that jump, and there was nothing for it but to fire some scaring shots, and slip into the water and get the job over as quickly as possible. Snarleyow was with us — I had left Jock at the waggons fearing that we would get into fly country on the Umbelusi — and the bank was too high and too steep for him ; he huddled up against it half supported by reeds, and whined plain- tively. To our relief Snowball faced the jump quite readily ; indeed, the old 316 sinner did it with much less effort and splash than the bigger Tsetse. But then came an extremely unpleasant spell. Snowball got a scare, because Hall in his anxiety to get me out rushed up to him on the warty side to get the reins off ; and the old ruffian waltzed around, dragging Hall through the thorns, while Snarleyow and I waited in the water for help. At that moment I had a poorer opinion of Snowball and Snarley than at any other I can remember. I wished Snarley dead twenty times in twenty seconds. Crocodiles love dogs ; and it seemed to me a million to one that a pair of green eyes and a black snout must slide out of the water any moment, drawn to us by those advertising whines ! And the worst of it was, I was outside Snarley with my white legs gleaming in the open water, while his cringing form was tucked away half hidden by the reeds. What an age it seemed ! How each reed shaken by the river breeze caught the eye, giving me goose-flesh and sending waves of cold shudders creeping over me ! How the cold smooth touch of a reed stem against my leg made me want to jump and to get out with one huge plunge as the horses had done ! And even when I had passed the struggling yowling Snarley up,the few remaining seconds seemed painfully long. Hall had to lie flat and reach his furthest to grip my hand ; and I nearly pulled him in, scrambling up that bank like a chased cat up a tree. When one comes to think it out, the bank must have been nine feet high. It was mighty unpleasant^ but it taught us what a horse can do when ne_Puts back into it ! E HALF-WAY between the Crocodile and Komati Rivers, a few miles south, of the old road, there are half a dozen or more small kopjes between which lie broad richly grassed depressions, too wide and flat to be called valleys. The fall of the country is slight, yet the rich loamy soil has been washed out in places into dongas of considerable depth. There is no running water there in winter, but there are a few big pools — long narrow irregularly shaped bits of water — with shady trees around them. I came upon the place by accident one day, and thereafter we kept it dark as our own preserve ; for it was full of game, and a most delightful spot. It was there that Snarleyow twice cleaned out the hunter's pot. Apart from the discovery of this preserve, the day was memorable for the reason that it was my first experience of a big mixed herd ; and I learned that day how difficult the work may be when several kinds of game run together. After a dry and warm morning the sight of the big pool had prompted an offsaddle ; 318 Snowball was tethered in a patch of good grass, and Jock and I were lying in the shade. When he began to sniff and walk up wind I took the rifle and followed, and only a little way off we came into dry vlei ground where there were few trees and the grass stood about waist high. Some two hundred yards away where the ground rose slightly and the bush became thicker there was a fair sized troop of impala, perhaps a hundred or more, and just behind, and mostly to one side of them, were between twenty and thirty tsessebe. We saw them clearly and in time to avoid exposing ourselves : they were neither feeding nor resting, but simply standing about, and individual animals were moving unconcernedly from time to time with an air of idle loitering. I tried to pick out a good tsessebe ram, but the impala were in the way, and it was necessary to crawl for some distance to reach certain cover away on the right. Crawling is hard work and very rough on both hands and knees in the Bushveld, frequent rests being neces- sary ; and in one of the pauses I heard a curious sound of soft padded feet jumping behind me, and looking quickly about caught Jock in the act of taking his observations. The grass was too high for him to see over, even when he stood up on his hind legs, and he was giving jumps of slowly increasing strength to get the height which would enable him to see what was on. I shall never forget that first view of Jock's ballooning observations ; it became a regular practice afterwards and I grew accustomed to seeing him stand on his hind legs or jump when his view was shut out — indeed 319 sometimes when we were having a slow time I used to draw him by pretending to stalk something ; but it is that first view that remains a picture of him. I turned at the instant when he was at the top of his jump ; his legs were all bunched up, his eyes staring eagerly and his ears had flapped out, giving him a look of comic astonishment. It was a most surprisingly unreal sight : he looked like a caricature of Jock shot into the air by a galvanic shock. A sign with my hand brought him flat on the ground, looking distinctly guilty, and we moved along again ; but I was shaking with silent laughter. At the next stop I had a look back to see how he was behaving, and to my surprise, although he was following carefully close behind me, he was looking steadily away to our immediate right. I subsided gently on to my left side to see what it was that interested him, and to my delight saw a troop of twenty to twenty-five Blue Wildebeeste. They, too, were 1 standing any way,' and evidently had not seen us. I worked myself cautiously round to face them so as to be able to pick my shot and take it kneeling, thus clearing the tops of the grass ; but whilst doing this another surprising development took place. Looking hard and carefully at the wildebeeste two hundred yards away, I became conscious of something else in between us, and only half the distance off, looking at me. It had the effect of a shock ; the disagreeable effect produced] by having a book or picture suddenly thrust close to the face ; the feeling of wanting to get further away from it to re-focus one's sight. 320 ^ I saw was simply a dozen quagga, all exactly alike, all standing alike, all looking at me, all full face to me, their fore feet together, their ears cocked, and their heads quite motionless — all gazing steadily at me, alive with interest and curiosity. There was something quite ludicrous in it, and something perplex- ing also : when I looked at the quagga the wildebeeste seemed to get out of focus and were lost to me ; when I looked at the wildebeeste the quagga ' blurred ' and faded out of sight. The difference in distance, perhaps as much as the very marked difference in the distinctive colourings, threw me out; and the effect of being watched also told. Of course I wanted to get a wildebeeste, but I was conscious of the watching quagga all the time, and, for the life of me, could not help constantly looking at them to see if they were going to start off and stampede the others. Whilst trying to pick out the best of the wildebeeste a movement away on the left made me look that way : the impala jumped off like one animal, scaring the tsessebe into a scattering rout; the quagga switched round and thundered off like a stampede of horses ; and the wildebeeste simply vanished. One signal in one troop had sent the whole lot off. Jock and I were left alone, still crouching, looking from side to side, staring at the slowly drifting dust, and listening to the distant dying sound of galloping feet. It was a great disappointment, but the conviction that we had found a really good spot made some amends, and Snowball was left undisturbed to feed and rest for another two hours. We made for the waggons along 321 x another route taking in some of the newly discovered country in the home sweep, and the promise of the morning was fulfilled. We had not been more than a few minutes on the way when a fine rietbuck ram jumped up within a dozen yards of Snowball's nose. Old Rocky had taught me to imitate the rietbuck's shrill whistle and this one fell to the first shot. He was a fine big fellow, and as Snowball put on airs and pretended to be nervous when it came to packing the meat, I had to blindfold him, and after hoisting the buck up to a horizontal branch lowered it on to his back. Snowball was villainously slow and bad to lead. He knew that whilst being led neither whip nor spur could touch him, and when loaded up with meat he dragged along at a miserable walk : one had to haul him. Once — but only once — I had tried driving him before me, trusting to about 400 Ib. weight of koodoo meat to keep him steady ; but no sooner had I stepped behind with a switch than he went off with a cumbrous plunge and bucked like a frantic mule until he rid himself of his load, saddle and all. The fact is one person could not manage him on foot, it needed one at each end of him, and he knew it : thus it worked out at a compromise : he carried my load, and I went his pace ! We were labouring along in this fashion when we came on the wildebeeste again. A white man on foot seems to be recognised as an enemy ; but if accom- •j, panied by animals, either on horseback, driving in a vehicle, leading a horse, or walking among cattle, he 322 may pass unnoticed for a long while : attention seems to be fixed on the animals rather than the man, and frank curiosity instead of alarm is quite evidently the feeling aroused. The wildebeeste had allowed me to get close up, and I picked out the big bull and took the shot kneeling, with my toe hooked in the reins to secure Snowball, taking chance of being jerked off my aim rather than let him go ; but he behaved like an angel, and once more that day a single shot was enough. It was a long and tedious job skinning the big fellow, cutting him up, hauling the heavy limbs and the rest of the meat up into a suitable tree, and making all safe against the robbers of the earth and the air ; and most troublesome of all was packing the head and skin on Snowball, who showed the profoundest mistrust of this dark ferocious-looking monster. Snowball and I had had enough of it when we reached camp, well after dark; but Jock I am not so sure of : his invincible keenness seemed at times to have something in it of mute reproach — the tinge of disappointment in those they love which great hearts feel, and strive to hide ! I never outstayed Jock, and never once knew him ' own up ' that he had had enough. No two days were quite alike ; yet many were alike in the sense that they were successful without hitch and without interest to any but the hunters ; many others were marked by chases in which Jock's part — most essential to success — too closely resembled that of other days to be worth repeating. On that day 323 he had, as usual, been the one to see the wildebeeste and had * given the word ' in time ; the rest was only one straight shot. That was fair partnership in which both were happy ; but there was nothing to talk about. There was very little wanton shooting with us, for when we had more fresh meat than was re- quired, as often happened, it was dried as * bultong ' for the days of shortage which were sure to come. I started off early next morning with the boys to bring in the meat, and went on foot, giving Snow- ball a rest, more or less deserved. By nine o'clock the boys were on their way back, and leaving them to take the direct route I struck away east- wards along the line of the pools, not expecting much and least of all dreaming that fate had one of the worst days in store for us : " From cloudless heavens her lightnings glance " did not occur to my mind as we moved silently along in the bright sunshine. We passed the second pool, loitering a few minutes in the cool shade of the evergreens to watch the green pigeons feeding on the wild figs and peering down curiously at us ; then moved briskly into more open ground. It is not wise to step too suddenly out of the dark shade into strong glare, and it may have been that act of carelessness that enabled the koodoo to get off before I saw them. They cantered away in a string with the cows in the rear, between me and two full grown bulls. It was a running shot — end on — and the last of the troop, a big cow, gave a stumble ; but catching 324 herself up again she cantered off slowly. Her body was all bunched up and she was pitching greatly, and her hind legs kept flying out in irregular kicks, much as you may see a horse kick out when a blind fly is biting him. There was no time for a second shot and we started off in hot pursuit ; and fifty yards further on where there was a clear view I saw that the koodoo was going no faster than an easy canter, and Jock was close behind. Whether he was misled by the curious action, and believed there was a broken leg to grip, or was simply over bold, it is impossible to know. Whatever the reason, he jumped for one of the hind legs, and at the same moment the koodoo lashed out viciously. One foot struck him under the jaw close to the throat, * whipped ' his head and neck back like a bent switch, and hurled him somersaulting backwards. I have the impression — as one sees oneself in a night- mare— of a person throwing up his arms and calling the name of his child as a train passed over it. Jock lay limp and motionless, with the blood oozing from mouth, nose, and eyes. I recollect feeling for his heart-beat and breath, and shaking him roughly and calling him by name ; then, remembering the pool near by, I left him in the shade of a tree, filled my hat with water, ran back again and poured it over him and into his mouth, shaking him again to rouse him, and several times pressing his sides — bellows fashion — in a ridiculous effort to restore breathing. 32S The old hat was leaky and I had to grip the rough- cut ventilations to make it hold any water at all, and I was returning with a second supply when with a great big heart-jump, I saw Jock heel over from his side and with his forelegs flat on the ground raise himself to a resting position, his head wagging groggily and his eyes blinking in a very dazed way. He took no notice when I called his name, but at the touch of my hand his ears moved up and the stumpy tail scraped feebly in the dead leaves. He was stone deaf ; but I did not know it then. He lapped a little of the water, sneezed the blood away and licked his chops ; and then, with evident effort, stood up. But this is the picture which it is impossible to forget. The dog was still so dazed and shaken that he reeled slightly, steadying himself by spreading his legs well apart, and there followed a few seconds' pause in which he stood thus ; and then he began to walk forward with the uncertain staggery walk of a toddling child. His jaws were set close ; his eyes were beady black, and he looked ' fight ' all over. He took no notice of me ; and I, never dreaming that he was after the koodoo, watched the walk quicken to a laboured trot before I moved or called; but he paid no heed to the call. For the first time in his life there was rank open defiance of orders, and he trotted slowly along with his nose to the ground. Then I understood ; and, thinking he was maddened by the kick and not quite responsible for] himself, and — more than that — admiring his pluck far too much to be angry, I ran to bring him back ; but at a turn in 326 his course he saw me coming, and this time he obeyed the call and signal instantly, and with a limp air of disappointment followed quietly back to the tree. The reason for Jock's persistent disobedience that day was not even suspected then ; I put everything down to the kick ; and he seemed to me to be ' all wrong,' but indeed there was excuse enough for him. Never- theless it was puzzling that at times he should ignore me in positively contemptuous fashion, and at others obey with all his old readiness : I neither knew he was deaf, nor realised that the habit of using certain signs and gestures when I spoke to him — and even of using them in place of orders when silence was im- perative— had made him almost independent of the word of mouth. From that day he depended wholly upon signs ; for he never heard another sound. Jock came back with me and lay down ; but he was not content. Presently he rose again and remained standing with his back to me, looking steadily in the direction taken by the koodoo. It was fine to see the indomitable spirit, but I did not mean to let him try again ; the koodoo was as good as dead no doubt, yet a hundred koodoo would not have tempted me to risk taking him out : to rest him and get him back to the camp was the only thought. I was feeling very soft about the dog then. And while I sat thus watching him and waiting for him to rest and recover, once more and almost within reach of me he started off again. But it was not as he had done before : this time he went with a spring and a rush, and with head lowered and meaning business. In vain I called 327 and followed : he outpaced me and left me in a few strides. The koodoo had gone along the right bank of the which, commencing just below the pool, ex- tended half a mile or more down the flat valley. Jock's rush was '.magnificent, but it was puzzling, and his direction was even more so ; for he made straight for the donga. I ran back for the rifle and followed, and he had already disappeared down the steep bank of the donga when, through the trees on the opposite side, I saw a koodoo cow moving along at a slow cramped walk. The donga was a deep one with perpendicular sides, and in places even overhanging crumbling banks, and I reached it as Jock, slipping and struggling, worked his way up the other wall writhing and climb- ing through the tree roots exposed by the floods. As he rushed out the koodoo saw him and turned ; there was just a chance — a second of time : a foot of space — before he got in the line of fire ; and I took it. One hind leg gave way, and in the short sidelong stagger that followed Jock jumped at the koodoo's throat and they went down together. It took me several minutes to get through the donga, and by that time the koodoo was dead and Jock was standing, wide-mouthed and panting, on guard at its head : the second shot had been enough. It was an unexpected and puzzling end ; and, in a way, not a welcome one, as it meant delay in getting back. After the morning's experience there was not much inclination for the skinning and cutting 328 up of a big animal and I set to work gathering branches and grass to hide the carcase, meaning to send the boys back for it. • But the day's experiences were not over yet : a low growl from Jock made me look sharply round, to see half a dozen kaffirs coming through the bush with a string of mongrel hounds at their heels. So that was the explanation of the koodoo's return to us ! The natives, a hunting party, had heard the , J shot and coming along in hopes of meat had met and headed off the wounded koodoo, turning her back almost on her own tracks. There was satisfaction in having the puzzle solved, but the more practical point was that here was all the help I wanted ; and the boys readily agreed to skin the animal and carry' the four quarters to the camp for the gift of the rest. Then my trouble began with Jock. He flew at the first of the kafHr dogs that sneaked up to sniff at the koodoo. Shouting at him produced no effect what- ever, and before I could get hold of him he had mauled the animal pretty badly. After hauling him off I sat down in the shade, with him beside me ; but there were many dogs, and a succession of affairs, and I, knowing nothing of his deafness, became thoroughly exasperated and surprised by poor old Jock's behaviour. His instinct to defend our kills, which was always strong, was roused that day beyond control, and his hatred of kafHr dogs — an implacable one in any case — made a perfect fury of him ; still, the sickening awful feeling that came over me as he lay limp and lifeless was too fresh, and it was not possible to be really angry ; 329 and after half a dozen of the dogs had been badly handled there was something so comical in the way they sheered off and eyed Jock that I could only laugh. They sneaked behind bushes and tried to circumvent him in all sorts of ways, but fled precipitately as soon as he moved a step or lowered his head and humped his shoulders threateningly. Even the kaffir owners, who had begun to look glum, broke into appreciative laughter and shouts of admiration for the white man's dog. Jock kept up an unbroken string of growls, not loud, of course, but I could feel them going all the while like a volcano's rumbling as my restraining hand rested on him, and when the boys came up to skin the koodoo I had to hold him down and shake him sharply. The dog was mad with fight ; he bristled all over ; and no patting or talking produced more than a flicker of his ears. The growling went on ; the hair stood up; the tail was quite unresponsive; his jaws were set like a vice; and his eyes shone like two black diamonds. He had actually struggled to get free of my hand when the boys began to skin, and they were so scared by his resolute attempt that they would not start until I put him down between my knees and held him. I was sitting against a tree only three or four yards from the koodoo, and the boys, who had lighted a fire in anticipation of early tit-bits which would grill while they worked, were getting along well with the skinning, when one of them saw fit to pause in order to hold forth in the native fashion on the glories of the chase and the might of the white man. Jock's 330 head lay on his paws and his mouth was shut like a rat-trap ; his growling grew louder as the bombastic nigger, all unconscious of the wicked watching eyes behind him, waved his blood-stained knife and warmed to his theme. " Great you thought yourself," proclaimed the orator, addressing the dead koodoo in a long rigmarole which was only partly understood by me but evidently much approved by the other boys as they stooped to their work, " Swift of foot and strong of limb. But the white man came, and — there ! " I could not make out the words with any certainty ; but whatever the last word was, it was intended as a dramatic climax, and to lend additional force to his point the orator let fly a resounding kick on the koodoo's stomach. The effect was quite electrical ! Like an arrow from the bow Jock flew at him ! The warning shout came too late, and as Jock's teeth fastened in him behind the terrified boy gave a wild bound over the koodoo, carrying Jock like a streaming coat-tail behind him. The work was stopped and the natives drew off in grave consultation. I thought that they had had enough of Jock for one day and that they would strike work and leave me, probably returning later on to steal the meat while I went for help from the waggons. But it turned out that the consultation was purely medical, and in a few minutes I had an interesting exhibition of native doctoring. They laid the late orator out face downwards, and one burly * brother ' straddled him across the small of the back ; then after a little preliminary examination of the four 331 slits left by Jock's fangs, he proceeded to cauterise them with the glowing ends of sundry sticks which an assistant took from the fire and handed to him as required. The victim flapped his hands on the ground and hallooed out " My babo ! My babo ! " but he did not struggle ; and the operator toasted away with methodical indifference. The orator stood it well ! I took Jock away to the big tree near the pool : it was evident that he, too, had had enough of it for one day. THERE was no hunting for several days after the affair with the koodoo cow. Jock looked worse the following day than he had done since recover- ing consciousness : his head and neck swelled up so that chewing was impossible and he could only lap a little soup or milk, and could hardly bend his neck at all. On the morning of the second day Jim Makokel' came up with his hostile-looking swagger and a cross worried look on his face, and in a half-angry and wholly disgusted tone jerked out at me, " The dog is deaf. I say so ! Me ! Makokela ! Jock is deaf. He does not hear when you speak. Deaf ! yes, deaf ! " Jim's tone grew fiercer as he warmed up ; he seemed to hold me responsible. The moment the boy spoke I knew it was true — it was the only possible explana- tion of many little things ; nevertheless I jumped up hurriedly to try him in a dozen ways, hoping to find that he could hear something. Jim was right ; he was really stone deaf. It was pathetic to find how each little subterfuge that drew his eyes from me left 333 him out of reach : it seemed as if a link had broken between us and I had lost my hold. That was wrong, however ! In a few days he began to realise the loss of hearing ; and after that, feeling so much greater dependence on sight, his watchfulness increased so that nothing escaped him. None of those who saw him in that year, when he was at his very best, could bring themselves to believe that he was deaf. With me it made differences both ways : something lost, and something gained. If he could hear nothing, he saw more ; the language of signs developed ; and taking it all round I believe the sense of mutual de- pendence for success and of mutual understanding was greater than ever. Snowball went on to the retired list at the end of the next trip. Joey the Smith stood at the forge one day, trimming a red-hot horse-shoe, when I rode up and dropping the reins over Snowball's head, sang out " Morning, Joey ! " Joey placed the chisel on the shoe with nice calcula- tion of the amount he wanted to snip off ; his assistant boy swung the big hammer, and an inch cube of red- hot iron dropped off. Then Joey looked up with, what seemed to me, a conflict of innocent surprise and stifled amusement in his face. The boy also turned to look, and — the insignificant incident is curiously unforgettable — trod upon the piece of hot iron. " Look where you're standing," said Joey reproachfully, as the smoke and smell of burning skin-welt rose up ; and the boy with a grunt of disgust, such as we might give at a 334 burned boot, looked to see what damage had been done to his ' unders.' It gave me an even better idea of a nigger's feet than those thorn digging oper tions when we had to cut through a solid whitish welt a third of an inch thick. Joey grinned openly at the boy ; but he was thinking of Snowball. " I wonder you had the heart, Joey, I do indeed ! " I said, shaking my head at him. "You would have him, lad, there was no re- fusin' you ! You arst so nice and wanted him so bad ! " " But how could you bear to part with him, Joey ? It must have been like selling one of the family." " 'Es, Boy, 'es ! We are a bit stoopid — our lot ! Is he still such a fool, or has he improved any with you ? " " Joey, I've learned him — full up to the teeth. If he stops longer he will become wicked, like me ; and you would not be the ruin of an innocent young thing trying to earn a living honestly, if he can ? " " Come round behind the shop, Boy. I got a pony '11 suit you proper ! " He gave a hearty laugh, and added " You can always get what you arsk for — if it ain't worth having. Moril ! Don't arsk ! I never offered you Snowball. This one's different. You can have him at cost price ; and that's an old twelve month account ! Ten pounds. He's worth four of it ! Salted an* shootin' ! Shake ! " and I gripped his grimy old fist gladly, knowing it was jonnick and * a square deal.' That was Mungo Park — the long, strong, low-built, half-bred Basuto pony — well-trained and without guile. I left Snowball with his previous owner, to use as required, and never called back for him ; and if this should meet the eye of Joey the Smith he will know that I no longer hope his future life will be spent in stalking a wart-eyed white horse in a phantom Bush- veld. Mungo made amends. There was a spot between the Komati and Crocodile rivers on the north side of the road where the white man seldom passed and nature was undisturbed ; few knew of water there ; it was too well concealed between deep banks and the dense growth of thorns and large trees. The spot always had great attractions for me apart from the big game to be found there. I used to steal along the banks of this lone water and watch the smaller life of the bush. It was a delightful field for naturalist and artist, but unfortunately we thought little of such things, and knew even less ; and now nothing is left from all the glorious opportunities but the memory of an endless fascination and a few facts that touch the human chord and will not submit to be forgotten. There were plenty of birds — guinea-fowl, pheasant, partridge, knoorhaan and bush pauw. Jock accom- panied me of course when I took the fowling-piece, but merely for companionship ; for there was no need for him on these occasions. I shot birds to get a change of food and trusted to walking them up along 336 the river banks and near drinking pools ; but one evening Jock came forward of his own accord to help me — a sort of amused volunteer ; and after that I always used him. He had been at my heels, apparently taking little interest in the proceedings from the moment the first bird fell and he saw what the game was ; probably he was intelligently interested all the time but con- sidered it nothing to get excited about. After a time I saw him turn aside from the line we had been taking and stroll off at a walking pace, sniffing softly the while. When he had gone a dozen yards he stopped and looked back at me ; then he looked in front again with his head slightly on one side, much as he would have done examining a beetle rolling his ball. There were no signs of anything, yet the grass was short for those parts, scarce a foot high, and close, soft and curly. A brace of partridges rose a few feet from Jock, and he stood at ease calmly watching them, without a sign or move to indicate more than amused interest. The birds were absurdly tame and sailed so quietly along that I hesitated at first to shoot ; then the noise of the two shots put up the largest number of partridges I have ever seen in one lot, and a line of birds rose for perhaps sixty yards across our front. There was no wild whirr and confusion : they rose in leisurely fashion as if told to move on, sailing in- finitely slowly down the slope to the thorns near the donga. Running my eye along the line I counted them in twos up to between thirty and forty ; and that \L could not have been more than half. How many 337 Y coveys had packed there, and for what purpose, and whether they came every evening, were questions which one would like answered now ; but they were not of sufficient interest then to encourage a second visit another evening. The birds sailed quietly into the little wood, and many of them alighted on branches of the larger trees. It is the only time I have seen a partridge in a tree ; but when one comes to think it out, it seems common-sense that, in a country teeming with vermin and night-prowlers, all birds should sleep off the ground. Perhaps they do ! There were numbers of little squirrel-like creatures there too. Our fellows used to call them ground- squirrels and " tree-rats " ; because they live under- ground, yet climb trees readily in search of food ; they were little fellows like meerkats, with bushy tails ringed in brown, black and white, of which the waggon boys made decorations for their slouch hats. Jock wanted a go at them : they did not appear quite so much beneath notice as the birds. Along the water's edge one came on the lagavaans, huge repulsive water-lizards three to four feet long, like crocodiles in miniature, sunning themselves in some favourite spot in the margin of the reeds or on the edge of the bank ; they give one the jumps by the suddenness of their rush through the reeds and plunge into deep water. There were otters too, big black-brown fierce fellows, to be seen swimming silently close under the banks. I got a couple of them, but was always nervous letting Jock into the water after things, as one never 338 knew where the crocodile lurked. He got an ugly bite from one old dog-otter which I shot in shallow water ; and, mortally wounded as he was, the otter put up a rare good fight before Jock finally hauled him out. Then there were the cane-rats, considered by some most excellent and delicate of meats, as big and tender as small sucking-pigs. The cane-rat, living and dead, was one of the stock surprises, and the subject of jokes and tricks upon the unsuspecting : there seems to be no sort of ground for associating the extraordinary fat thing, gliding among the reeds or swimming silently under the banks, with either its live capacity of rat or its more attractive dead role of roast sucking-pig. The hardened ones enjoyed setting this treat before the hungry and unsuspecting, and, after a hearty meal, announcing — " That was roast rat : good, isn't it ? " The memory of one experience gives me water in the gills now ! It was unpleasant, but not equal to the nausea and upheaval which supervened when, after a very savoury stew of delicate white meat, we were shown the fresh skin of a monkey hanging from the end of the buck-rails, with the head drooping forward, eyes closed, arms dangling lifeless, and limp open hands — a ghastly caricature of some hanged human, shrivelled and shrunk within its clothes of skin. I felt like a cannibal. The water tortoises in the silent pools, grotesque muddy fellows, were full of interest to the quiet watcher, and better that way than as the " turtle soup " which once or twice we ventured on and tried to think was good ! 339 There were certain hours of the day when it was more pleasant and profitable to lie in the shade and rest. It is the time of rest for the Bush veld — that spell about middle-day ; and yet if one remains quiet, there is generally something to see and something worth watching. There were the insects on the ground about one which would not otherwise be seen at all ; there were caterpillars clad in spiky armour made of tiny fragments of grass — fair defence no doubt against some enemies and a most marvellous disguise ; other caterpillars clad in bark, impossible to detect until they moved ; there were grasshoppers like leaves/and irregularly shaped stick insects, with legs as bulky as the body, and all jointed by knots like irregular twigs — wonderful mimetic creatures. Jock often found these things for me. Something would move and interest him ; and when I saw him stand up and examine a thing at his feet, turning it over with his nose or giving it a scrape with his paw, it was usually worth joining in the inspection. The Hottentot-gods always attracted him as they reared up and * prayed ' before him ; quaint things, with tiny heads and thin necks and enormous eyes, that sat up with forelegs raised to pray, as a pet dog sits up and begs. One day I was watching the ants as they travelled along their route — sometimes stopping to hobnob with those they met, sometimes hurrying past, and some- times turning as though sent back on a message or reminded of something forgotten — when a little dry brown bean lying in a spot of sunlight gave a jump 34° of an inch or two. At first it seemed that I must have unknowingly moved some twig or grass stem that flicked it ; but as I watched it there was another vigorous jump. I took it up and examined it but there was nothing unusual about it, it was just a common light brown bean with no peculiarities or marks ; it was a real puzzle, a most surprising and ridiculous one. I found half a dozen more in the same place ; but it was some days before we discovered the secret. Domiciled in each of them was a very small but very energetic worm, with a trap-door or stopper on his one end, so artfully contrived that it was almost impossible with the naked eye to locate the spot where the hole was. The worm objected to too much heat and if the beans were placed in the sun or near the fire the weird astonishing jumping would commence. The beans were good for jumping for several months, and once in Delagoa, one of our party put some on a plate in the sun beside a fellow who had been doing him- self too well for some time previously : he had become a perfect nuisance to us and we could not get rid of him. He had a mouth full of bread, and a mug of coffee on the way to help it down, when the first bean jumped. He gave a sort of peck, blinked several times to clear his eyes, and then with his left hand pulled slightly at his collar, as though to ease it. Then came another jump, and his mouth opened slowly and his eyes got big. The plate being hollow and glazed was not a fair field for the jumpers — they could not escape ; and in about half a minute eight or ten beans were having a rough and tumble. 341 With a white scared face our guest slowly lowered his mug, screened his eyes with the other hand, and after fighting down the mouthful of bread, got up and walked off without a word. We tried to smother our laughter, but some one's choking made him look back and he saw the whole lot of us in various stages of convulsions. He made one rude remark, and went on ; but every one he met that day made some allusion to beans, and he took the Durban steamer next morning. The insect life was prodigious in its numbers and variety ; and the birds, the beasts, and the reptiles were all interesting. There is a goodness-knows-what-will- turn-up-next atmosphere about the Bushveld which is, I fancy, unique. The story of the curate, armed with a butterfly net, coming face to face with a black- maned lion may or may not be true — in fact ; but it is true enough as an illustration ; and it is no more absurd or unlikely than the meeting at five yards of a lioness and a fever-stricken lad carrying a white green-lined umbrella — which is true ! The boy stood and looked : the lioness did the same. " She seemed to think I was not worth eating, so she walked off," he used to say — and he was Trooper 242 of the Imperial Light Horse who went back under fire for wounded comrades and was killed as he brought the last one out. I had an old cross-bred Hottentot-Bushman boy once — one could not tell 342 which lot he favoured — who was full of the folklore stories and superstitions of his strange and dying race, which he half humorously and half seriously blended with his own knowledge and hunting experiences. Jantje had the ugly wrinkled dry-leather face of his breed, with hollow cheeks, high cheek-bones, and little pinched eyes, so small and so deeply set that no one ever saw the colour of them ; the pepper-corns of tight wiry wool that did duty for hair were sparsely scattered over his head like the stunted bushes in the desert ; and his face and head were seamed with scars too numerous to count, the souvenirs of his drunken brawls. He resembled a tame monkey rather than a human creature, being, like so many of his kind without the moral side or qualities of human nature which go to mark the distinction between man and monkey. He was normally most cheery and obliging ; but it meant nothing, for in a moment the monkey would peep out, vicious, treacherous and unrestrained. Honesty, sobriety, gratitude, truth, fidelity, and humanity were impossible to him : it seemed as if even the germs were not there to cultivate, and the material with which to work did not exist. He had certain make-believe substitutes, which had in a sense been grafted on to his nature, and appeared to work, while there was no real use for them ; they made a show, until they were tested ; one took them for granted, as long as they were not disproved : it was a skin graft only, and there seemed to be no real ' union ' possible between them and the tough alien stock. He differed in character and nature from the Zulu as much as he did from the 343 white man ; he was as void of principle as — well,*as his next of kin, the monkey ; yet, while without either shame of, or contempt for, cowardice ; he was wholly without fear of physical danger, having a sort of fatalist's indifference to it ; and that was something to set off against his moral deficit. I put Jantje on to wash clothes the day he turned up at the waggons to look for work, and as he knelt on the rocks stripped to the waist I noticed a very curious knotted line running up his right side from the lowest rib into the armpit. The line was whiter than his yellow skin; over each rib there was a knot or widening in the line ; and under the arm there was a big splotchy star — all markings of some curious wound. He laughed almost hysterically, his eyes disappearing altogether and every tooth showing, as I lifted his arm to investigate ; and then in high-pitched falsetto tones he shouted in a sort of ecstasy of delight, " Die ouw buffels, Baas ! Die buffels bull, Baas ! " " Buffalo ! Did he toss you ? " I asked. Jantje seemed to think it the best joke in the world and with constant squeals of laughter and graphic gestures gabbled off his account. His master, it appears, had shot at and slightly wounded the buffalo, and Jantje had been placed at one exit from the bush to prevent the herd from break- ing away. As they came towards him he fired at the foremost one ; but before he could reload the wounded bull made for him and he ran for dear life to the only tree near — one of the flat-topped thorns. He heard the thundering hoofs and the snorting breath behind, 344 but raced on hoping to reach the tree and dodge behind it ; a few yards short, however, the bull caught him, in spite of a jump aside, and flung him with one toss right on top of the thorn tree. When he recovered consciousness he was lying face upwards in the sun, with nothing to rest his head on and only sticks and thorns around him. He did not know where he was or what had . happened ; he tried to move, but one arm was useless and the effort made him slip and sag, and he thought he was falling through the earth. Presently he heard regular tramping under-^ neath him and the breath of a big animal : and they whole incident came back to him. ,- By feeling about cautiously he at last located the biggest branch under him, and getting a grip on this he managed to turn over and ease his right side. He -could then see the buffalo : it had tramped a circle round the tree and was doing sentry over him. Now and again the huge creature stopped to sniff, snort and stamp, and then resumed the round, perhaps the reverse way, The buffalo could not see him and never once looked up, but glared about at its own accustomed level ; and, relying entirely on its sense of smell, it kept up the relentless vengeful watch for hours, always stopping in the same place, to leeward, to satisfy itself that the enemy had not escaped. Late in the afternoon the buffalo, for the time, suddenly came to a stand on the windward side of the tree, and after a good minute's silence turned its tail on Jantje and with angry sniffs and tosses steppedswiftly and resolutely forward some paces 345 There was nothing to be seen; but Jantje judged the position and yelled out a warning to his master whom he guessed to be coming through the bush to look for him, and at the same time he made what noise he could in the tree top to make the buffalo think he was coming down. The animal looked round from time to time with swings and tosses of the head and threatening angry sneezes, much as one sees a cow do when standing between her young calf and threatened danger : it was defending Jantje, for his own purposes, and facing the danger. For many minutes there was dead silence : no answer came to Jantje's call, and the bull stood its ground glaring and sniffing towards the bush. At last there was a heavy thud below, instantly followed by the report of the rifle — the bullet came faster than the sound ; the buffalo gave a heavy plunge and with a grunting sob slid forward on its chest. Round the camp fire at night Jantje used to tell tales in which fact, fancy, and superstition were curiously mingled ; and Jantje when not out of humour was free with his stories. The boys, for whose benefit they were told, listened open-mouthed ; and I often stood outside the ring of gaping boys at their fire, an interested listener. The tale of his experiences with the honey-bird which he had cheated of its share was the first I heard him tell. Who could say how much was fact, how much fancy, and how much the superstitions of his race ? Not even Jantje knew that ! He believed it all. 346 The Honey-bird met him one day with cheery cheep-cheep, and as he whistled in reply it led him to an 'old tree where the beehive was : it was a small hive, and Jantje was hungry ; so he ate it all. All the time he was eating, the bird kept fluttering about, calling anxiously, and expecting some honey or fat young bees to be thrown out for it ; and when he had finished, the bird came down and searched in vain for its share. As he walked away the guilty Jantje noticed that the indignant bird followed him with angry cries and threats. All day long he failed to find game ; whenever there seemed to be a chance an angry honey-bird would appear ahead of him and cry a warning to the game ; and that night as he came back, empty-handed and hungry, all the portents of bad luck came to him in turn. An owl screeched three times over his head ; a goat-sucker with its long wavy wings and tail flitted before him in swoops and rings in most ghostly silence — and there is nothing more ghostly than that flappy wavy soundless flitting of the goat-sucker ; a jackal trotted persistently in front looking back at him ; and a striped hyena, humpbacked, savage, and solitary, stalked by in silence, and glared. At night as he lay unable to sleep the bats came and made faces at him ; a night adder rose up before his face and slithered out its forked tongue — the two black beady eyes glinting the firelight back ; and which- ever way he looked there was a honey-bird, silent and angry, yet with a look of satisfaction, as it watched. So it went all night : no sleep for him ; no rest ' 347 In the morning he rose early and taking his gun and chopper set out in search of hives : he would give all to the honey-bird he had cheated, and thus make amends. He had not gone far before, to his great delight, there came a welcome chattering in answer to his low whistle, and the busy little fellow flew up to show himself and promptly led the way, going ahead ten to twenty yards at a flight. Jantje followed eagerly until they came to a small donga with a sandy bottom, and then the honey-bird calling briskly, fluttered from tree to tree on either bank, leading him on. Jantje, thinking the hive must be near by, was walk- ing slowly along the sandy bed and looking upwards in the trees, when something on the ground caught his eye and he sprang back just as the head of a big puff- adder struck where his bare foot had been a moment before. With one swing of his chopper he killed it; he took the skin off for an ornament, the poison- glands for medicine, and the fangs for charms, and then whistled and looked about for the honey-bird ; but it had gone. A little later on, however, he came upon another, and it led him to a big and shady wild fig-tree. The honey-bird flew to the trunk itself and cheeped and chattered there, and Jantje put down his gun and looked about for an easy place to climb. As he peered through the foliage he met a pair of large green eyes looking full into his : on a big limb of the tree lay a tiger, still as death, with its head resting on its paws, watching him with a cat-like 348 eagerness for its prey. Jantje hooked his toe in the reim sling of his old gun and slowly gathered it up without moving his eyes from the tiger's, and back- ing away slowly, foot by foot, he got out into the sunshine and made off as fast as he could. It was the honey-bird's revenge : he knew it then ! He sat down on some bare ground to think what next to do ; for he knew he must die if he did not find honey and make good a hundred times what he had cheated. All day long he kept meeting honey-birds and follow- ing them ; but he would no longer follow them into the bad places, for he could not tell whether they were new birds or the one he had robbed ! Once he had nearly been caught ; the bird had perched on an old ant-heap, and Jantje, thinking there was a ground hive there, walked boldly forward. A small misshapen tree grew out of the ant-heap, and one of the twisted branches caught his eye because of the thick ring around it : it was the coil of a long green mamba; and far below that, half hidden by the leaves, hung the snake's head with the neck gathered in half-loop coils ready to strike at him. After that Jantje kept in the open, searching for himself among rocks and in all the old dead trees for the tell-tale stains that mark the hive's entrance ; but he had no luck, and when he reached the river in the early afternoon he was glad of a cool drink and a place to rest. For a couple of hours he had seen no honey-birds, 349 and it seemed that at last his pursuer had given him up, for that day at least. As he sat in the shade of the high bank, however, with the river only a few yards from his feet he heard again a faint chattering : it came from the river-side beyond a turn in the bank, and it was too far away for the bird to have seen Jantje from where it called, so he had no doubt about this being a new bird. It seemed to him a glorious piece of luck that he should find honey by the aid of a strange bird and be able to take half of it back to the hive he had emptied the day before and leave it there for the cheated bird. There was a beach of pebbles and rocks between the high bank and the river, and as Jantje walked along it on the keen look-out for the bird, he spotted it sitting on a root half-way down the bank some twenty yards ahead. Close to where the chattering bird perched there was a break in the pebbly beach, and there shallow water extended up to the perpen- dicular bank. In the middlej.of this little stretch of water, and conveniently placed as a stepping- stone, there was a black rock, and the bare-footed Jantje stepped noiselessly from stone to stone towards it. An alarmed cane-rat, cut off by Jantje from the river, ran along the foot of the bank to avoid him ; but when it reached the little patch of shallow water it suddenly doubled back in fright and raced under the boy's feet into the river. Jantje stopped ! He did not know why ; but there seemed to be something wrong. Something had 35° frightened the cane-rat back on to him, and he stared hard at the bank and the stretch of beach ahead of him. Then the rock he meant to step on to gave a heave, and a long blackish thing curved towards him ; he sprang into the air as high as he could, and the crocodile's tail swept under his feet ! Jantje fled back like a buck — the rattle on the stones behind him and crash of reeds putting yards into every bound. For four days he stayed in camp waiting for some one to find a hive and give him honey enough to make his peace ; and then, for an old snuff-box and a little powder, he bought a huge basket full of comb, young and old, from a kafHr woman at one of the kraals some miles away, and put it all at the foot of the tree he had cleaned out. Then he had peace. The boys believed every word of that story : so, I am sure, did Jantje himself. The buffalo story was obviously true, and Jantje thought nothing of it : the honey -bird story was not, yet he gloried in it ; it touched his superstitious nature, and it was impossible for him to tell the truth or to separate fact from fancy and superstition. How much of fact there may have been in it I cannot say : honey-birds gave me many a wild goose chase, but when they led to anything at all it was to hives, and not to snakes, tigers and crocodiles. Perhaps it is right to own up that I never cheated a honey-bird ! We pretended to laugh at the superstition, but we left some honey all the same — just for luck ! After 351 all, as we used to say, the bird earned its share and deserved encouragement. Round the camp fire at nights it was no uncommon thing to see some one jump up and let out with what- ever was handiest at some poisonous intruder. There was always plenty of dead wood about and we piled on big branches and logs freely, and as the ends burnt to ashes in the heart of the fire we kept pushing the logs further in. Of course, dead trees are the home of all sorts of ' creepy-crawly ' things, and as the log warmed up and the fire eat into the decayed heart and drove thick hot smoke through the cracks and corri- dors and secret places in the logs the occupants would come scuttling out at the butt ends. Small snakes were common — the big ones usually clearing when the log was first disturbed — and they slipped away into the darkness giving hard quick glances about them ; but scorpions, centipedes and all sorts of spiders were by far the most numerous. Occasionally in the mornings we found snakes under our blankets, where they had worked in during the night for the warmth of the human body ; but no one was bitten, and one made a practice of getting up at once, and with one movement, so that unwelcome visitors should not be warned or provoked by any preliminary rolling. The scorpions, centi- pedes and tarantulas seemed to be more objectionable ; but they were quite as anxious to rget away as we were, and it is wonderful how little damage is done. One night when we had been watching them coming out of a big honeycombed log like the animals from the 352 Ark, and were commenting on the astonishing number and variety of these things, I heard Jantje conveying in high-pitched tones fanciful bits of information to the credulous waggon boys. When he found that we too were listening — and Jantje had the storyteller's love for a 'gallery' — he turned our way and dropped into a jargon of broken English, helped out with Hottentot-Dutch, which it is impossible to reproduce in intelligible form. He had made some allusion to * the great battle,' and when I asked for an explanation he told us the story. It is well enough known in South Africa, and similar stories are to be found in the folklore of other countries, but it had a special interest for us in that Jantje gave it as having come to him from his own people. He called it " The Great Battle between the Things of the Earth and the Things of the Air." For a long time there had been jealousy between the Things of the Earth and the Things of the Air, each claiming superiority for themselves ; each could do something the others could not do ; and each thought their powers greater and their qualities superior. One day a number of them happened to meet on an open plain near the river's bank, and the game of brag began again as usual. At last the Lion, who was very cross, turned to the old Black Aasvogel, as he sat half asleep on a dead tree, and challenged him. " You only eat the dead : you steal where others kill. It is all talk with you ; you will not fight ! " The Aasvogel said nothing, but let his bald head and bare neck settle down between his shoulders, and closed his eyes. 353 z *' He wakes up soon enough when we find him squatting above the carcase," said the Jackal. " See him flop along then." " When we find him ! " the Aasvogel said, open- ing his eyes wide. " Sneaking prowler of the night ! Little bastard of the Striped Thief ! " " Come down and fight," snarled the Hyena angrily. " Thief and scavenger yourself ! " So the Things of the Air gathered about and joined in backing the Black Aasvogel ; and the Things of the Earth kept on challenging them to come down and have it out ; but nobody could hear anything because the Jackal yapped incessantly and the Go'way bird, with its feathers all on end and its neck craned out, screamed itself drunk with passion. Then the Eagle spoke out : " You have talked enough. Strike — strike for the eyes ! " and he swept down close to the Lion's head, but swerving to avoid the big paw that darted out at him, he struck in passing at the Jackal, and took off part of his ear. " I am killed ! I am killed ! " screamed the Jackal, racing for a hole to hide in. But the other beasts laughed at him ; and when the Lion called them up and bade them take their places in the field for the great battle, the Jackal walked close behind him holding his head on one side and showing each one what the Eagle had done. " Where is my place ? " asked the Crocodile, in a soft voice, from the bank where no one had noticed him come up. 354 The Things of the Earth that were near him moved quietly away. "Your place is in the water," the Lion answered. " Coward and traitor whom no one trusts ! Who would fight with his back to you ? " The Crocodile laughed softly and rolled his green eyes from one to another ; and they moved still further away. " What am I ? " asked the Ostrich. " Kindred of the Birds, I am of the winged ones ; yet I cannot fight with them ! " " Let him fly ! " said the Jackal, grinning, " and we shall then see to whom he belongs ! Fly, old Three Sticks ! Fly ! " The Ostrich ran at him, waltzing and darting with wings outspread, but the Jackal dodged away under the Lion and squealed out, " Take your feet off the ground, Clumsy, and fly ! " Then it was arranged that there should be two Umpires, one for each party, and that the Umpires should stand on two high hills where all could see them. The Ostrich was made Umpire for the Things of the Air, and as long as the fight went well with his party he was to hold his head high so that the Things of the Air might see the long thin neck upright and, knowing that all was well, fight on. The Jackal asked that he might be Umpire for the Things of the Earth. " You are too small to be seen ! " objected the Lion gruffly. " No ! No ! " urged the Jackal, " I will stand on 355 a big ant-heap and hold my bushy tail on high where all will see it shining silver and gold in the sunlight." " Good ! " said the Lion. " It is better so, perhaps, for you would never fight ; and as soon as one begins to run, others follow ! " The Things of the Air gathered in their numbers, and the Eagle led them, showing them how to make up for their weakness by coming swiftly down in numbers where they found their enemies alone or weak ; how to keep the sun behind them so that it would shine in their enemies' eyes and blind them ; and how the loud-voiced ones should attack on the rear and scream suddenly, while those with bill and claw swooped down in front and struck at the eyes. And for a time it went well with the Things of the Air. The little birds and locusts and butterflies came in clouds about the Lion and he could see nothing as he moved from place to place ; and the Things of the Earth were confused by these sudden attacks ; and, giving up the fight, began to flee from their places. Then the Jackal, believing that he would not be found out, cheated : he kept his tail up to make them think they were not beaten. The Lion roared to them, so that all could hear, to watch the hill where the Jackal stood and see the sign of victory ; and the Things of the Earth, being strong, gathered together again and withstood the enemy and drove them off. The battle was going against the Things of the Air when the Go'way bird came to the Eagle and said : " It is the Jackal who has done this. Long ago we had won ; but, Cheat and Coward, he kept his tail 356 aloft and his people have returned and are winning now. Then the Eagle, looking round the field, said, " Send me the Bee." And when the Bee came the Eagle told him what to do ; and setting quietly about his work, as his habit is, he made a circuit through the trees that brought him to the hill where the Jackal watched from the ant-heap. While the Jackal stood there with his mouth open and tongue out, laughing to see how his cheating had succeeded, the Bee came up quietly behind and, as Jantje put it, " stuck him from hereafter ! " The Jackal gave a scream of pain and, tucking his tail down, jumped from the ant-heap and ran away into the bush ; and when the Things of the Earth saw the signal go down they thought that all .was lost, and fled. So was the Great Battle won ! MUNGO was not a perfect mount, but he was a great improvement on Snowball ; he had a wretched walk, and led almost as badly as his predecessor ; but this did not matter so much because he could be driven like a pack donkey and relied on not to play pranks. In a gallop after game he was much faster than Snow- ball, having a wonderfully long stride for so low a pony. A horse made a good deal of difference in the hunting in many ways, not the least of which was that some sort of excursion was possible on most days. One could go further in the time available and, even if delayed, still be pretty sure of catching up to the waggons without much difficulty. Sometimes after a long night's trekking I would start off after breakfast for some * likely ' spot, off-saddle there in a shady place, sleep during the heat of the day, and after a billy of tea start hunting towards the waggons in the afternoon. - 358 It was in such a spot on the Komati River, a couple of hundred yards from the bank, that on one occasion I settled down to make up lost ground in the matter of sleep, and with Mungo knee-haltered in good grass and Jock beside me, I lay flat on my back with hat covering my eyes and was soon comfortably asleep. The sleep had lasted a couple of hours when I began to dream that it was raining and woke up in the belief that a hail storm — following the rain — was just break- ing over me. I started up to find all just as it had been, and the sunlight beyond the big tree so glaring as to make the eyes ache. Through half-closed lids I saw Mungo lying down asleep and made out Jock standing some yards away quietly watching me. With a yawn and stretch I lay back again ; sleep was over but a good lazy rest was welcome : it had been earned, and, most comforting of all, there was nothing else to be done. In the doze that followed I was sur- prised to feel quite distinctly something like a drop of rain strike my leg, and then another on my hat. " Hang it all, it is raining," I said, sitting up again and quite wide awake this time. There was Jock still looking at me, but only for the moment of moving, it appears; for, a minute later he looked up into the tree above me with ears cocked, head on one side, and tail held lazily on the horizontal and moving slowly from time to time. It was his look of interested amusement. A couple of leaves fluttered down, and then the half-eaten pip of a ' wooden orange ' struck me in the face as I lay back again to see what was going on 359 above. The pip gave me the line, and away up among the thick dark foliage I saw a little old face looking down at me ; the quick restless eyes were watchfully on the move, and the mouth partly opened in the shape of an O — face and attitude together a vivid expression of surprise and indignation combined with breathless interest. As my eyes fairly met those above me, the monkey ducked its head forward and promptly ' made a face ' at me without uttering a sound. Then others showed up in different places, and whole figures became visible now as the monkeys stole softly along the branches to get a better look at Jock and me : there were a couple of dozen of them of all sizes. They are the liveliest, most restless, and most in- quisitive of creatures ; ludicrously nervous and excit- able ; quick to chattering anger and bursts of hysterical passion, which are intensely comical, especially when they have been scared. They are creatures whose method of progress most readily betrays them by the swaying of a branch or quivering of leaves, yet they can steal about and melt away at will, like small grey ghosts, silent as the grave. I had often tried to trap them, but never succeeded : Jantje caught them, as he caught everything, with cunning that out-matched his wilder kindred ; pit- falls, nooses, whip-traps, fall-traps, foot-snares, drags, slip-knots of all kinds, and tricks that I cannot now remember, were in his repertory ; but he disliked showing his traps, and when told to explain he would half sulkily show one of the common kind. 360 The day he caught the monkey he was well pleased,- and may possibly have told the truth. Baboons and] monkeys, he said, can count just like men, but they can only count two ! If one man goes into a mealie field and waits for them with a gun, their sentry will see him, and he may wait for ever ; if two go and one remains, it is useless, for they realise that only one has come out where two went in ; but if three go in, one may remain behind to lie in wait for them, for the monkeys, seeing more than one return, will invade the mealie field as soon as the two are safely out of the way. That was only Jantje's explanation of the well-known fact that monkeys and baboons know the difference between one and more than one. But, as Jantje explained, their cleverness helped him to catch them. He went alone and came away alone, leaving his trap behind, knowing that they were watch- ing his every movement, but knowing also that their intense curiosity would draw them to it the moment it seemed safe. The trap he used was an old calabash or gourd with a round hole in it about an inch in diameter ; and a few pumpkin seeds and mealies and a hard crust of bread, just small enough to get into the calabash, formed the bait. After fastening the gourd by a cord to a small stump, he left it lying on its side on the ground where he had been sitting. A few crumbs and seeds were dropped near it and the rest placed in the gourd, with one or two showing in the mouth. Then he walked off on the side where he would be longest in view, and when well out of sight sped round in a circuit 361 to a previously selected spot where he could get close up again and watch. The foremost monkey was already on the ground when he got back and others were hanging from low branches or clinging to the stems, ready to drop or retreat. Then began the grunts and careful timid ap- proaches, such as one sees in a party of children hunting for the hidden ' ghost ' who is expected to appear sud- denly and chase them ; next, the chattering garrulous warnings and protests from the timid ones — the females — in the upper branches ; the sudden start and scurry of one of the youngsters ; and the scare com- municated to all, making even the leader jump back a pace ; then his angry grunt and loud scolding of the frightened ones — angry because they had given him a fright, and loud because he was reassuring himself. After a pause they began the careful roundabout approach and the squatting and waiting, making pre- tences of not being particularly interested, while their quick eyes watched everything ; then the deft picking up of one thing — instantly dropped again, as one picks up a roasted chestnut and drops it in the same movement, in case it should be hot ; and finally the greedy scramble and chatter. I have seen all that, but not, alas, the successful ending, when trying to imitate Jantje's methods. Jantje waited until the tugs at the gourd became serious, and then, knowing that the smaller things had been taken out or shaken out and eaten and that some enterprising monkey had put its arm into the hole and grabbed the crust, he ran out. 362 A monkey rarely lets go any food it has grabbed, and when, as in this case, the hand is jammed in a narrow neck, the letting go cannot easily be done instinctively or inadvertently; the act requires a deliberate effort. So Jantje caught his monkey, and flinging his ragged coat over the captive sat down to ^J make it safe. By pushing the monkey's arm deeper 52 into the gourd the crust became released and the hand freed ; he then gradually shifted the monkey about until he got the head into the shoulders of the loose old coat, and thence into the sleeve ; and worked away at this until he had the creature as helpless as a mummy with the head appearing at the cuff-opening and the body jammed in the sleeve like a bulging over- stuffed sausage. The monkey struggled, screamed, chattered, made faces, and cried like a child ; but Jantje gripping it between his knees worked away unmoved. He next took the cord from the calabash and tied one end securely round the monkey's neck, to the shrinking horror of that individual, and the other end to a stout bush stick about seven or eight feet long ; and then slipped monkey cord and stick back through the sleeve and had his captive safe ; the cord prevented it from getting away, and the stick from getting too close and biting him. When they sat opposite and pulled faces at each other the family likeness was surprising. The grimacing little imps invariably tempt one to tease or chase them, just to see their antics and methods ; and when I rose, openly watching them and stepping about for a better view, they abandoned the silent methods and bounded freely from branch to branch for fresh cover, always ducking behind something if I pointed the gun or a stick or even my arm at them, and getting into paroxysms of rage and leaning over to slang and cheek me whenever it seemed safe. Jock was full of excitement, thoroughly warmed up and anxious to be at them, running about from place to place to watch them, tacking and turning and jump- ing for better views, and now and then running to the trunk and scraping at it. Whenever he did this there was a moment's silence ; the idea of playing a trick on them struck me and I caught Jock up and put him in the fork of a big main branch about six feet from the ground. The effect was magical : the whole of the top of the tree seemed to whip and rustle at once, and in two seconds there was not a monkey left. Then a wave in the top of a small tree some distance off betrayed them and we gave chase — a useless romp- ing school-boy chase. They were in the small trees away from the river and it was easy to see and follow them ; and to add to the fun and excitement I threw stones at the branches behind them. Their excite- ment and alarm then became hysterical, and as we darted about to head them off they were several times obliged to scamper a few yards along the ground to avoid me and gain other trees. It was then that Jock enjoyed himself most : he ran at them and made flying leaps and snaps as they sprang up the trees out of reach. It was like a caricature of children in one of their make-believe chases ; the screams, grimaces, 364 and actions were so human that it would have seemed like a tragedy had one of them been hurt. They got away into the big trees once more, to Jock's disappoint- ment but greatly to my relief ; for I was quite pumped from the romp and laughter. The river at this point was broken into several sluices by islands formed of piles of rocks on which there were a few stunted trees and dense growths of tall reeds, and here and there little spits and fringes of white sand were visible. There was plenty of small game in that part, and it was a great place for crocodiles. As we were then about half a mile below where Mungo had been left I strolled along the bank on the look out for a shot, frequently stopping to examine suspicious looking rocks on the sand spits or at the borders of the reed fringes on the little islands. The shooting of crocodiles was an act of war : it was enmity and not sport or a desire for trophies that prompted it, and when it did not interfere with other chances we never missed a practice shot at these fellows. I picked out several l rocks,' so suspicious looking that I would have had a shot at them had there been a clear chance, and twice, while I was trying to make them out, they slid silently into the water before there was time to fire. However, further on there came a better chance than any : there was something so peculiar about the look of this * rock ' that I picked a good spot and sat down to watch it ; and presently the part nearest me turned slightly, just enough to show that it was a crocodile lying on the flat sand with his nose towards me and his 365 tail hidden in the reeds. It was fifty yards away, and from where I sat there was not much to aim at, as a Martini bullet would glance from almost any part of that polished hard case if it struck at such an angle. I was sitting on the bank above the shelving beach of the river on which a dense mass of reeds grew, and the waving feathery tops partly obscured the sight. I know the bullet hit him somewhere, because he bounded with astonishing strength and activity several feet in the air and his tail slashed through the reeds like a mighty scythe. The huge jaws opened and he gave a horrible angry bellow — something between a roar and a snarl — as he plunged into the river, sending masses of spray and water flying every way. He made straight across, apparently at me, swimming on top of the water at amazing speed and throwing up a wave on either side and a white swirl of foam from the propelling tail. It was certainly a most surprising and unheard-of pro- ceeding, and as he reached my side of the stream, and be- cause hidden from me by the screen of reeds at my feet, I turned and bolted. It may be that he came at me with murderous intent ; or it may be that, blinded by rage or pain, he came towards me simply because he happened to be facing that way ; but, whatever the reason, it was painfully clear that if he meant business he would be on to me before it was possible to see him in the reeds. That was enough for me. It had never occurred to me that there was going to be any fun in this for the crocodile ; but one's sense of humour and justice was always being stimulated in the Bushveld. 366 With twenty yards of open ground between us I turned and waited ; but no crocodile appeared, nor was there a sound to be heard in the reeds. A few minutes wait ; a cautious return ; a careful scrutiny ; and then resort to sticks and stones ; but all to no purpose : there was neither sign nor sound of the crocodile ; and not being disposed to go into the reeds to look for something which I did not want, but might want me, I returned to Mungo — a little wiser, it is true, but not unduly ' heady ' on that account. Half an hour's jogging along the bank having failed to propose anything, I struck away from the river taking a line through the bush towards camp, and eventually came across a small herd of blue wildebeeste. Mungo's pricked ears and raised head warned me ; but the grass being high it was not easy to see enough of them from the ground to place an effective shot, and before a chance offered they moved off slowly. I walked after them, leading Mungo and trying to get a fair opening on slightly higher ground. Presently half a dozen blackish things appeared above the tall grass ; they were the heads of the wilde- beeste— all turned one way, and all looking at us with ears wide spread. Only the upper halves of the heads were visible through the thinner tops of the grass, and even an ordinary standing shot was not possible. I had to go to a tree for support in order to tip-toe for the shot, and whilst in the act of raising my rifle the heads disappeared ; but I took chance and fired just below where the last one had shown up. 367 The wildebeeste were out of sight, hidden by grass six feet high, but a branch of the tree beside me served as a horizontal bar and hoisting myself chin high I was able to see them again. In front of us there was a dry vlei quite free of bush, some two hundred yards across and four hundred yards long, and the wildebeeste had gone away to the right and were skirting the vlei, apparently meaning to get round to the opposite side, avoiding the direct cut across the vlei for reasons of their own. It occurred to me that there must be a deep donga or perhaps a mud hole in front which they were avoiding ; but that it might be possible for me to get across, or even half way across, in time to have another shot at them the next time they stopped to look back, as they were almost certain to do ; so I ran straight on. One does not have to reason things out like that in actual practice : the conclusion comes instantly, as if by instinct, and no time is lost. To drop from the branch, pick up the rifle, and start running were all parts of one movement. Stooping slightly to prevent my bobbing hat from showing up in the grass tops, and holding the rifle obliquely before me as a sort of snowplough to clear the grass from my eyes, I made as good pace as the ground would allow. No doubt the rifle held in front of me made it diffi- cult to notice anything on the ground ; but the con- centrated stare across the vlei in the direction of the galloping wildebeeste was quite as much the cause of what followed. Going fast and stooping low, with all my weight thrown forward, I ran right into a wilde- beeste cow. My shot had wounded her through the 368 kidneys, completely paralysing the hind quarters, and she had instantly dropped out of sight in the grass. The only warning I got was a furious snort, and the black looking monster with great blazing blood-shot eyes rose up on its front legs as I ran into it. To charge into a wounded wildebeeste ready to go for you, just when your whole attention is concentrated upon others two hundred yards beyond, is nearly as un- pleasant as it is unexpected ; it becomes a question of what will happen to you, rather than of what you will do. That at any rate was my experience. The rifle, if it had hindered me, also helped : held out at arms length it struck the wildebeeste across the forehead and the collision saved my chest from the horns. There was an angry toss of the big head and the rifle was twirled out of my hand, as one might flip a match away. I do not know exactly what happened : the impres- sion is of a breathless second's whirl and scramble, and then finding myself standing untouched five yards away, with the half-paralysed wilde- beeste squatting like a dog and strug- gling to drag the useless hind quarters along in its furious efforts to get at Jock who had already intervened to help me. The rifle lay within the circle^ of the big hooked horns ; and ^ the squatting animal, making a pivot of its hind quarters, slewed round and round, 369 2 A H f making savage lunges at Jock and great heaves at me each time I tried to get the rifle. It often happens that shots touching the kidneys produce a paralysis, temporarily severe, which passes off to a great extent after some minutes and leaves the wounded animal well able to charge : it happened to me some years later while trying to photograph a wounded sable. I tried to hook the gun out with a stick but the wildebeeste swung round and faced me at once, snapping the sticks and twirling them out of my hands with surprising ease and quickness. I then tried another game, and by making feint attacks from the other side at last got the animal gradually worked away from my gun ; and the next attempt at raking was successful. When the excitement was over and there was a chance of taking stock of the position, I found that Jock had a pretty good ' gravel rash ' on one hip and a nasty cut down one leg ; he had caught the wildebeeste by the nose the instant I ran into it, and it had ' wiped the floor ' with him and flung him aside. I found my bandolier with a broken buckle lying on the grass ; one shirt sleeve was ripped open ; the back of the right hand cut across ; hands and knees were well grated ; and there were lumps and bruises about the legs for which there was no satisfactory explanation. I must have scrambled out like an unwilling participant in a dog fight. It was a long job skinning, 370 cutting up, and packing the wildebeeste, and when we reached the outspan the waggons had already started and we had a long tramp before us to catch them. I drove Mungo before me, keeping him at an easy jog. We had been going for possibly an hour and if was quite dark, except for the stars and the young moon low down on our right ; the road was soft and Mungo's jogging paces sounded like floppy pats ; there was no other sound at all, not even a distant rumble from the waggons to cheer us ; Mungo must have been sick of it and one might have thought him jogging in his sleep but for the occasional pricking of his ears — a trick that always makes me wonder how much more do horses see in the dark than we do. I walked like a machine, with rifle on shoulder and glad to be rid of the broken bandolier, then transferred to Mungo ; and Jock trotted at my heels. This tired monotonous progress was disturbed by Mungo : his ears pricked ; his head went up ; and he stopped, looking hard at a big low bush on our left. I gave him a tap with the switch, and without an instant hesitation he dashed off to the right making a half circle through the veld and coming into the road again fifty yards ahead, and galloped away leaving a rising column of dust behind him. I stood and faced the bush that Mungo had shied at, and the first thing that occurred to me was that my bandolier and cartridges were with the pony. Then Jock growled low and moved a few steps forward and slightly to the right, also sheering off from that 371 bush. I felt that he was bristling all over, but there was neither time nor light to watch him. I stepped slowly sideways after him gripping the rifle and looking hard at the bush. Our line was much the same as Mungo's and would take us some seven or eight paces off the road — more than that was not possible owing to the barrier of thorns on that side. When we got abreast of the bush two large spots of pale light appeared in the middle of it, apparently waist high from the ground. It is impossible to forget the tense creepy feeling caused by the dead stillness, the soft light, and the pale expressionless glow of those eyes — the haunting mystery of eyes and nothing more ! It is not unusual to see eyes in the night ; but this was a * nervy ' occasion, and there is no other that comes back with all the vividness and reality of the experience itself, as this one does. And I was not the only nervous one. Mungo incontinently bolted — probably what he saw warranted it ; Jock, as ever, faced it ; but when my foot touched his hind leg as we sidled away he flew round with a convulsive jump. He too was strung to concert pitch. As we moved on and passed the reflecting angle of the moon, the light of the eyes went out as suddenly and silently as it had appeared. There was nothing then to show me where danger lay ; but Jock knew, and I kept a watch on him. He jogged beside me, lagging slightly as if to cover our retreat, always looking back. A couple of times he stopped entirely and stood in the road, facing straight back and 372 THE HAUNTING MYSTERY OF EYES AND NOTHING MORE" growling ; and I followed suit. He was in command ; he knew ! There was nothing more. Gradually Jock's subdued purring growl died down and the glances back became fewer. I found Mungo a long way on, brought to a standstill by the slipping of his load ; and we caught up to the waggons at the next outspan. WE reached the Crocodile River drift on a Sunday morning, after a particularly dry and dusty night trek. * Wanting a wash ' did not on such occasions mean a mild inclination for a luxury : it meant that washing was badly needed. The dust lay inches deep on the one worn veld road, and the long strings of oxen toil- ing along kicked up suffocating clouds of fine dust which there was seldom any breeze to carry off : it powdered white man and black to an equal level of yellowy red. The waggons were a couple of hun- dred yards from the river ; and, taking a complete change, I went off for a real clean up. We generally managed to get in a couple of bathes at the rivers — real swims — but that was only done in the regular drifts and when there were people about or waggons crossing. In such conditions crocodiles rarely appeared ; they prefer solitude and silence. The swims were very delightful but somewhat different from ordinary bathes ; however remote may have been the risk of meeting a crocodile when you dived, or of being grabbed by one as you swam, the idea was always there and made it more interesting. 374 Being alone that day I had no intention of having a swim or of going into the open river, and I took a little trouble to pick a suitable pool with a rock on which to stand and dress. The water was clear and I could see the bottom of the pool. It was quite shallow — three feet deep at most — made by a scour in the sandy bed and divided from the main stream by a narrow spit of sand a couple of yards wide and twenty long. At the top end of the sand spit was a flat rock — my dressing table. After a dip in the pool I stood on to the sand spit to scrub off the brown dust, keeping one unsoaped eye roving round for intrusive crocodiles, and the loaded rifle lying beside me. The brutes slide out so silently and unexpectedly that in that exposed position, with water all round, one could not afford to turn one's back on any quarter for long. There is something laughable — it seemed faintly humorous even then — in the idea of a naked man hastily washing soap out of his eyes and squeezing away the water to take a hurried look behind him, and then after careful survey, doing an ' altogether ' dowse just as hastily — blowing and spluttering all the time like a boy after his first dive. The bath was successful and ended without incident — not a sign of a crocodile the whole time ! Breakfast was ready when I reached the waggons, and feeling very fit and clean in a fresh flannel shirt and white moleskins, I sat down to it. Jim Makokel' brought the kettle of coffee from the fire and was in the act of pouring some into a big mug when he stopped with 375 a grunt of surprise and, looking towards the river, cafled out sharply, " What is it ? " One of the herd boys was coming at a trot towards us, and the drivers, thinking something had happened to the oxen, called a question to him. He did not answer until he reached them and even then spoke in so quiet a tone that I could not catch what he said. But Jim, putting down the kettle, ran to his :, waggon and grabbing his sticks and assegais called to me in a husky shouting whisper — which imperfectly describes Jim's way of relieving his feelings, without making the whole world echo : " Ingwenye, Inkos ! Ingwenye Umkulu ! Big Clocodile ! Groot Krokodil, Baas ! " Then abandoning his excited polyglot he gabbled off in pure Zulu and at incredible speed a long account of the big Crocodile : it had carried off four boys going to the gold fields that year ; it had taken a woman and a baby from the kraal near by, but a white man had beaten it off with a bucket ; it had taken all the dogs, and even calves and goats, at the drinking place ; and goodness knows how much more. How Jim got his news, and when he made his friends, were puzzles never solved. Hunting stories, like travellers tales, are proverbially dangerous to reputations, however literally true they may be ; and this is necessarily so, partly because only exceptional things are worth telling, and partly because the conditions of the country or the life referred to are unfamiliar and cannot be grasped. It is a depress- ing but accepted fact that the ideal, lurid — and, I 376 suppose, convincing — pictures of wild life are done in London, where the author is unhampered by fact or experience. " Stick to the impossible, and you will be believed : keep clear of fact and commonplace, and you cannot be checked." Such was the cynical advice given many years ago by one who had bought his experience in childhood and could not forget it. Sent home as a small boy from a mission station in Zululand to be educated by his grandparents, he found the demand for marvels among his simple country relatives so great that his small experience of snakes and wild animals was soon used up ; but the eager suggestive questions of the good people, old and young, led him on, and he shyly crossed the border. The Fields of Fancy were fair and free ; there were no fences there ; and he stepped out gaily into the Little People's country — The Land of Let's Pretendia ! He became very popular. One day, however, whilst looking at the cows, he remarked that in Zululand a cow would not yield her milk unless the calf stood by. The old farmer stopped in his walk, gave him one suspicious look, and asked coldly, " What do they do when a calf is killed or dies ? " " They never kill the calves there;" the boy answered, " but once when one died father stuffed the skin with grass and showed it to the cow; because they said would do." The old man, red with anger, took the boy to his room, saying that as long as he spoke 377 that of the lions, tigers and snakes that he knew about, they believed him ; but when it came to farming ! No ! Downright lying he would not have ; and there was nothing for it but larruping. " It was the only piece of solid truth they had allowed me to tell for months," he added thoughtfully, " and I got a first-class hiding for it." And was there no one who doubted Du Chaillu and Stanley and others ? Did no one question Gordon Cumming's story of the herd of elephants caught and killed in a little kloof ? and did not we of Barberton many years later locate the spot by the enormous pile of bones, and name it " Elephants' Kloof " ? There are two crocodile incidents well known to those whom time has now made old hands, but believed by no one else ; even in the day of their happening they divided men into believers and unbelievers. The one was of * Mad ' Owen — only mad, because utterly reckless — riding through Komati Drift one moonlight night alone and unarmed, who, riding, found his horse brought to a stop, plunging, kicking and struggling on the sand bank in mid-stream where the water was not waist deep. Owen looking back saw that a croco- dile had his horse by the leg. All he had was a leaded hunting crop, but, jumping into the water he laid on so vigorously that the crocodile made off, and Owen remounted and rode out. There are many who say that it is not true — that it cannot be true ; for no man would do it. But there are others who have an open mind, because they knew Owen — Mad Owen, who for a wager bandaged 378 hh horse's eyes and galloped him over a twenty foot bank headlong into the Jew's Hole in Lydenburg ; Owen, who when driving four young horses in a Cape cart flung the reins away and whipped up the team, bellowing with laughter, because his nervous com- panion said he had never been upset and did not want to be ; Owen, who But too many things rise up that earned him his title and blow the * impossible ' to the winds. Mad Owen deserves a book to himself ; but here is my little testimony on his behalf, given shame- faced at the thought of how he would roar to think it needed. I crossed that same drift one evening and on riding up the bank to Furley's store saw a horse standing in a dejected attitude with one hind leg clothed in ' trowsers ' made of sacking and held up by a sus- pender ingeniously fastened across his back. During the evening something reminded me of the horse, and I asked a question ; and the end of Furley's answer was, " They say it's all a yarn about ' horse- whipping ' a crocodile : all we know is that one night, a week ago, he turned up here dripping wet, and after having a drink told us the yarn. He had the leaded hunting-crop in his hand ; and that's the horse he was riding. You can make what you like of it. We've been doctoring the horse ever since, but I doubt if it will pull through ! " I have no doubt about the incident. Owen did not invent : he had no need to ; and Furley himself was no mean judge of crocodiles and men. Furley kept 379 a ferry boat for the use of natives and others when the river was up, at half a crown a trip. The business ran itself and went strong during the summer floods, but in winter when the river was low and fordable it needed pushing; and then Furley's boatman, an intelligent native, would loiter about the drift and interest travellers in his crocodile stories, and if they proved over-confident or sceptical, would manoeuvre them a little way down stream where, from the bank, they would usually see a big crocodile sunning him- self on a sand spit below the drift. The boys always took the boat. One day some police entered the store and joyously announced that they had got him — " bagged the old villain at last ! " ; and Furley dropped on a sack of mealies groaning out " Glory, Boys ! The ferry's ruined. Why, I've preserved him for years ! " The other crocodile incident concerns " Lying Tom " — brave merry-faced blue-eyed Tom ; bubbling with good humour ; overflowing with kindness ; and full of the wildest yarns, always good and amusing, but so steep that they made the most case-hardened draw a long breath. The name Lying Tom was understood and accepted by every one in the place, barring Tom himself; for, oddly enough, there was another Tom of the same surname, but no relation, and once when his name cropped up I heard the real Simon Pure refer to him as " my namesake — the chap they call Lying Tom." To the day of his death Tom believed that it was the other Tom who was esteemed the liar. 380 Tom was a prospector who l came in ' occasionally for supplies or licenses ; and there came a day when Barberton was convulsed by Lying Tom's latest. He had been walking along the bank of the Crocodile River, and on hearing screams ran down just in time to see a kaffir woman with a child on her back dragged off through the shallow water by a crocodile. Tom ran in to help — " I kicked the dashed thing on the head and in the eyes," he said, " and punched its ribs and then grabbed the bucket that the woman had in her hand and hammered the blamed thing over the head till it let go. By Jimminy, Boys, the woman was in a mess : never saw any one in such a fright ! " Poor Tom suffered from consumption in the throat and talked in husky jerks broken by coughs and laughter. Is there one among them who knew him who does not remember the breezy cheeriness, the indomitable pluck, the merry blue eyes, so limpidly clear, the expressive bushy eyebrows, and the teeth, too perfect to be wasted on a man, and ever flashing with his un- failing smiles ? Tom would end up with — " Niggers said I was ' takati ' : asked for some of my medicine ! Blamed niggers ; got no pluck : would've let the woman I " g° Of course this story went the rounds latest and best ; but one day we turned up in Barberton to deliver our loads, and that evening a whisper went about and men with faces humorously puzzled looked at one another and as Tom's " Lying Tom's a fraud : the crocodile story is true ! " For our party, shooting guinea-fowl in the kaffir lands along the river, came upon a kraal where there sat a woman with an arm so scarred and marked that we could not but ask what had caused it. There was no difference in the stories, except that the kaffirs after saying that the white man had kicked the crocodile iind beaten it with the bucket, added " and he kicked and beat with the bucket the two men who were there, saying that they were not men but dogs, who would not go in and help the woman. But he was bewitched : the crocodile could not touch him ! " Some of Tom's stories were truly incredible, but not those in whichpie figured to advantage : he was too brave a man to have consciously gained credit he did not deserve. He died, slowly starved to death by the cruel disease — the brave, kindly, cheery spirit, smiling unbeaten to the end. That was what Jim referred to when he called me to kill the murderer of women and children. It pleased him and others to say that this was the same crocodile ; and I believe it was. The locality was the same, and the kraal boys said that it was in the old place from which all its murderous raids had been made ; and that was all we knew. I took the rifle and went with the herd boy ; Jim followed close behind, walking on his toes with the waltzy springy movement of an ostrich, eager td get ahead and repeatedly silenced and driven back by me in the few hundred yards' walk to the river. 382 A queer premonitory feeling came over me as I saw we were making straight for the bathing pool ; but before reaching the bank the herd boy squatted down, indicating that somewhere in front and below us the enemy would be found. An easy crawl brought me to the river bank and, sure enough, on the very spot where I had stood to wash, only fifty yards from us, there was an enormous crocodile. He was lying along the sand-spit with his full length exposed to me. Such a shot would have been a moral certainty, but as I brought the rifle slowly up it may have glinted in the sun, or perhaps the crocodile had been watching us all the time, for with one easy turn and no splash at all he slid into the river and was gone. It was very disgusting and I pitched into Jim and the other boys behind for having made a noise and shown themselves ; but they were still squatting when I reached them and vowed they had neither moved nor spoken. We had already turned to go when there came a distant call from beyond the river. To me it was merely a kaffir's voice and a sound quite meaningless : but to the boys' trained ears it spoke clearly. Jim pressed me downwards and we all squatted again. " He is coming out on another sand- bank," Jim explained. Again I crawled to the bank and lay flat, with the rifle ready. There was another sand streak a hundred yards out in the stream with two out-croppings of 383 black rock at the upper end of it — they were rocks right enough, for I had examined them carefully when bathing. This was the only other sandbank in sight : it was higher than it appeared to be from a distance and the crocodile whilst hidden from us was visible to the natives on the opposite bank as it lay in the shallow water and emerged inch by inch to resume its morning sun bath. The crocodile was so slow in showing up that I quite thought it had been scared off again, and I turned to examine other objects and spots up and down the stream ; but presently glancing back at the bank again I saw what appeared to be a third rock, no bigger than a loaf of bread. This object I watched until my eyes ached and swam ; it was the only possible crocodile ; yet it was so small, so motionless, so permanent looking, it seemed absurd to doubt that it really was a stone which had passed unnoticed before. As I watched unblinkingly it seemed to grow bigger and again contract with regular swing, as if it swelled and shrank with breathing ; and knowing that this must be merely an optical delusion caused by staring too long, I shut my eyes for a minute. The effect was excellent : the rock was much bigger ; and after that it was easy to lie still and wait for the cunning old reptile to show himself. It took half an hour of this cautious manoeuvring and edging on the part of the crocodile before he was comfortably settled on the sand with the sun warming all his back. In the meantime the waggon boys behind me had not stirred ; on the opposite side 384 of the river kaffirs from the neighbouring kraal had gathered to the number of thirty or forty, men, women and children, and they stood loosely grouped, instinc- tively still silent and watchful, like a little scattered herd of deer. All on both sides were watching me and waiting for the shot. It seemed useless to delay longer ; the whole length of the body was showing, but it looked so wanting in thickness, so shallow in fact, that it was evident the crocodile was lying, not on the top, but on the other slope of the sand spit ; and probably not more than six or eight inches — in depth — of body was visible. It was little enough to aim at, and the bullet seemed to strike the top of the bank first, sending up a column of sand, and then, probably knocked all out of shape, ploughed into the body with a tremendous thump. The crocodile threw a back somersault — that is, it seemed to rear up on its tail and spring backwards ; the jaws divided into a huge fork as, for a second, it stood up on end ; and it let out an enraged roar, seemingly aimed at the heavens. It was a very sudden and dramatic effect, following on the long silence. Then the whole world seemed to burst into in- describable turmoil ; shouts and yells burst out on all sides ; the kaffirs rushed down to the banks — the men armed with sticks and assegais, and the women and children with nothing more formidable than their voices ; the crocodile was alive — very much alive — and in the water ; the waggon boys, headed by Jim, were all round me and all yelling 385 2B out together what should or should not be done, and what would happen if we did or did not do it. It was Babel and Bedlam let loose. With the first plunge the crocodile disappeared, but it came up again ten yards away thrashing the water into foam and going up stream like a paddle- boat gone reeling roaring mad — if one can imagine such a thing ! I had another shot at him the instant he ^reappeared, but one could neither see nor hear where it struck ; and again and again I fired whenever he showed up for a second. He appeared to be shot through the lungs ; at any rate the kaffirs on the other bank, who were then quite close enough to see, said that it was so. The waggon boys had run down the bank out on to the first sand spit and I followed them, shouting to the kaffirs opposite to get out of the line of fire, as I could no longer shoot without risk of hitting them. The crocodile after his first straight dash up stream had tacked about in all directions during the next few minutes, disappearing for short spells and plunging out again in unexpected places. One of these sudden reappearances brought him once more abreast, and quite near to us, and Jim with a fierce yell and with his assegai held high in his right hand dashed into the water, going through the shallows in wild leaps. I called to him to come back but against his yells and the excited shouts of the ever-increasing crowd my voice could not live ; and Jim, mad with excitement, went on. Twenty yards out, where increasing depth steadied him, he turned for a moment and seeing himself 386 alone in the water called to me with eager confidence, " Come on, Baas." It had never occurred to me that any one would be such an idiot as to go into water after a wounded crocodile. There was no need to finish off this one, for it was bound to die, and no one wanted the meat or skin. Who, then, would be so mad as to think of such a thing ? Five minutes earlier I would have answered very confidently for myself ; but there are times when one cannot afford to be sensible. There was a world of unconscious irony in Jim's choice of words " Come on ! " and " Baas ! " The boy giving the lead to his master was too much for me ; and in I went ! I cannot say that there was much enjoyment in it for the first few moments — not until the excitement took hold and all else was forgotten. The first thing that struck me was that in the deep water my rifle was worth no more than a walking-stick, and not nearly as useful as an assegai ; but what drove this and many other thoughts from my mind in a second was the appearance of Jock on the stage and his sudden jump into the leading place. In the first confusion he had passed unnoticed, pro- bably at my heels as usual, but the instant I answered Jim's challenge by jumping into the water he gave one whimpering yelp of excitement and plunged in too ; and in a few seconds he had outdistanced us all and was leading straight for the crocodile. I shouted to him, of course in vain — he heard nothing ; and Jim and I plunged and struggled along to head the dog off. 387 As the crocodile came up Jock went straight for him — his eyes gleaming, his shoulders up, his nose out, his neck stretched to the utmost in his eagerness— and he ploughed along straining every muscle to catch up. When the crocodile went under he slackened and looked anxiously about, but each fresh rise was greeted by the whimpering yelps of intense suppressed excite- ment as he fairly hoisted himself out of the water with the vigour of his swimming. The water was now breast-high for us, and we were far out in the stream, beyond the sand spit where the crocodile had lain, when the kaffirs on the bank got their first chance and a flight of assegais went at the enemy as he rose. Several struck and two remained in him ; he rose again a few yards from Jim, and that sportsman let fly one that struck well home. Jock, who had been toiling close behind for some time and gaining slowly, was not five yards off then ; the floundering and lashing of the crocodile were bewilder- ing, but on he went as grimly and eagerly as ever. I fired again — not more than eight yards away — but the water was then up to my arms, and it was impossible to pick a vital part ; the brain and neck were the only spots to finish him, but one could see nothing beyond a great upheaval of water and clouds of spray and blood-stained foam. The crocodile turned from the shot and dived up stream, heading straight for Jock : the din of yelling voices stopped instantly as the huge open mouthed thing plunged towards the dog ; and for one sick horrified moment I stood and watched — helpless. 388 Had the crocodile risen in front of Jock that would have been the end — one snap would have done it ; but it passed clear underneath, and, coming up just beyond him, the great lashing tail sent the dog up with the column of water a couple of feet in the air. He did as he had done when the koodoo bull tossed him : his head was round straining to get at the crocodile before he was able to turn his body in the water ; and the silence was broken by a yell of wild delight and approval from the bank. Before us the water was too deep and the stream too strong to stand in ; Jim in his eagerness had gone in shoulder high, and my rifle when aimed only just cleared the water. The crocodile was the mark for more assegais from the bank as it charged up stream again, with Jock tailing behind, and it was then easy enough to follow its movements by the shafts that were never all submerged. The struggles became perceptibly weaker, and as it turned again to go with the stream every effort was concentrated on killing and landing it before it reached the rocks and rapids. I moved back for higher ground and, finding that the bed shelved up rapidly down stream, made for a position where there would be enough elevation to put in a brain shot. The water was not more than waist high then, and as the crocodile came rolling and thrashing down I waited for his head to show up clearly. My right foot touched a sloping rock which rose almost to the surface of the water close above the rapids, and anxious to get the best possible position for a last shot, I took my stand there. The rock was 389 r the ordinary shelving bedrock, uptilted at an easy angle and cut off sheer on the exposed side, and the wave in the current would have shown this to any one not wholly occupied with other things ; but I had eyes for nothing except the crocodile which was then less than a dozen yards off, and in my anxiety to secure a firm footing for the shot I moved the right foot again %/