CK OF THE
BUSHVELD
8Y SIR PERCY RiZPATRK
ADAPTED FOR SCHOOL USE
V
00SB UBROT
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
"JOCK.
JOCK OF THE
BUSH VELD
BY
SIR PERCY FITZPATRICK
ILLUSTRATED BY
E. CALDWELL
SCHOOL EDITION, ABRIDGED
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK, BOMBAY, AND CALCUTTA
1908
All rights reserved
DEDICATION
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
DEDICATE
The Story of Jock
to
Those Keenest and Kindest of Critics, Best
of Friends, and Most Delightful
of Comrades
The Likkle People
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE BACKGROUND 1
INTO THE BUSHVELD 5
JESS 26
THE PICK OF THE PUPPIES .... 32
JOCK'S SCHOOLDAYS 50
THE FIRST HUNT 60
IN THE HEART OF THE BUSH .... 74
JOCK'S NIGHT OUT 83
THE KOODOO BULL 87
PARADISE CAMP 97
THE TIGER AND BABOONS 101
BUFFALO, BUSHFIRE AND WILD DOGS . . 106
JOCK'S MISTAKE 121
MONKEYS AND WILDEBEESTE . . . .138
THE OLD CROCODILE 144
THE FIGHTING BABOON 152
OUR LAST HUNT 161
OUR VARIOUS WAYS 170
His DUTY . 173
NOTE AND GLOSSARY 178
vii
FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
" Jock " (coloured) .... Frontispiece
" Come along o' me " . . . .To face page 2
" And there at my heels was the odd
puppy " . ,,44
" I believe you've got the champion
after all " „ 48
" Say, Buggins, what in thunder are
you doing ? " .... ,, 80
" His shoulder humped against the tree,
he stood the tug of war " . . „ 94
" Scrambling down the face came more
and more baboons " . . . „ 102
" The lashing tail sent the dog up with
a column of water " . ,, 148
" The brave mother stood between her
young and death " . . . • » 164
THERE was a Boy who went to seek
his fortune. Call him boy or man :
the years proved nothing either way !
Some will be boyish always ; others
were never young : a few — most richly
dowered few — are man and boy to-
gether. 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 think ' How few,' but cry ' How
strong ! How free ! ' Be wise and do
not ven-
ture. Here
it is safe :
there is no
fortune
there ! "
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 ! "
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.
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 con-
scious of it to trust his voice ; too hungry
:~ to smile as if he did not care ! And then
a
O
THE BACKGROUND
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.
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 kind-
ness he had so long imposed upon.
It was a little spell before his lips
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
4 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 beauti-
ful from there.
Far, far below — a brownish speck
beside the silver streak — stood the
cabin he had left. And, without warn-
ing, 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!"
WE were generally a party of half a dozen
— the owners of the four waggons, a couple
of friends trading with Delagoa, a man
from Swaziland, and — just then — an old
Yankee hunter-prospector. It was our
holiday time, before the hard work with
loads would commence, and we dawdled
along feeding up the cattle and taking it
easy ourselves.
One evening as we were lounging round the camp
fire, Robbie, failing to find a soft spot for his head on
a thorn log, got up reluctantly to fetch his blankets,
exclaiming with a mock tragic air :
"The time is out of joint; O cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set it right."
We knew Robbie's way. There were times when he
would spout heroics, suggested by some passing trifle,
his own face a marvel of solemnity the whole time,
and only the amused expression in his spectacled grey
eyes to show he was poking fun at himself. An in-
dulgent smile, a chuckle, and the genial comment
" Silly ass ! " came from different quarters ; for Robbie
was a favourite. Only old Rocky maintained his usual
gravity.
As Robbie settled down again in comfort, the old
man remarked in level thoughtful tones : "I reckon
the feller as said that was a waster, he chucked it ! "
There was a short pause in which I, in my ignorance,
5 B
6 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
began to wonder if it was possible that Rocky did not
know the source ; or did he take the quotation seri-
ously ? Then Robbie answered in mild protest : "It
was a gentleman of the name of Hamlet who said it."
" Well, you can bet he was no good, anyhow,"
Rocky drawled out. " ' Jus' my luck ! ' is the waster's
motto ! "
"They do say he was mad," Robbie replied, as hi-
face twitched with a pull-your-leg expression, " but In-
got off a lot of first-class things all the same — some of
the best things ever said."
" I da' say ; they mostly can. But a man as sets
down and blames his luck is no good anyhow. He's
got no sand, and got no sense, and got no honesty ! It
ain't the time's wrong : it's the man ! It ain't the
job's too big : it's the man's too little ! "
" You don't believe in luck at all, Rocky ? " I
ventured to put in.
" I don't say thar's no such thing as luck — good and
bad ; but it ain't the explanation o' success an' failure
— not by a long way. No, sirree, luck's just the thing
any man'd like ter believe is the reason for his failure
and another feller's success. But it ain't so. When
another man pulls off what you don't, the first thing
you got ter believe is it's your own fault ; and the
last, it's his luck. And you jus' got ter wade in an'
find out whar you went wrong,
an' put it right, 'thout any ex-
cuses an' explanations."
" But, Rocky, explanations
aren't always excuses, and some-
times you really have to give
them ! "
" Sonny, you kin
reckon it
dead sure
t h a r 's
something
wrong
INTO THE BUSHVELD 7
'bout a thing that don't explain itself ; an' one ex-
planation's as bad as two mistakes — it don't fool
anybody worth speaking of, 'cept yerself. You find
the remedy ; you can leave other folks put up the
excuses."
Rocky, known, liked and respected by all, yet inti-
mate with none, was ' going North ' — even to the
Zambesi, it was whispered — but no one knew where or
why. He was going off alone, with two pack-donkeys
and not even a boy for company, on a trip of many
hundreds of miles and indefinite duration. No doubt
he had an idea to work out ; perhaps a report of some
trader or hunter or even native was his pole-star : most
certainly he had a plan, but what it was no living soul
would know. That was the way of his kind. With
them there was no limit in time or distance, no hint
of purpose or direction, no home, no address, no
' people ' ; perhaps a partner somewhere or a chum,
as silent as themselves, who would hear some day —
if there was anything to tell.
Rocky had worked near our camp on the Berg. I
had known him to nod to, and when we met again at
one of the early outspans in the Bush and offered a
lift for him and his packs he accepted and joined us,
it being still a bit early to attempt crossing the rivers
with pack-donkeys. It may be that the ' lift ' saved
his donkeys something on the roughest
roads and in the early stages; or it
may be that we served as a
useful screen for his move-
ments,
8
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
making it difficult for any one else to follow his line
and watch him. Anyway, he joined us in the way of
those days : that is, we travelled together, and as a
rule we grubbed together ; yet each cooked for himself
and used his own stores, and in principle we main-
tained our separate establishments. The bag alone
was common ; each man brought what game he got
and threw it into the common stock.
Rocky — in full, Rocky Mountain Jack — had another
name, but it was known to few besides the Mining
Commissioner's clerk who registered his licences from
time to time. " In the Rockies whar I was raised " is
about the only remark having deliberate reference to
his personal history which he was known to have
made ; but it was enough on which to found the name
by which we knew him.
What struck me first about him was the long Colt's
revolver, carried on his hip ; and for two days this
' gun,' as he called it, conjured up visions of Poker
Flat and Roaring Camp, Jack Hamlin and Yuba Bill
of cherished memory ; and then the inevitable question
got itself asked :
" Did you ever shoot a man, Rocky ? "
" No, Sonny," he drawled gently, " never hed ter
use it yet ! "
" It looks very old. Have you had it long ? "
" Jus' 'bout thirty years, I reckon ! "
" Oh ! Seems a long time to carry a thing without
using it ! "
" Waal," he answered half
absently, " thet's so. It's a thing
INTO THE BUSHVELD
you don't want orfen — but when you do,
you want it derned bad ! "
Rocky seemed to me to have stepped
into our life out of the pages of Bret Harte.
For me the glamour of romance was cast
by the Master's spell over all that world,
and no doubt helped to make old Rocky
something of a hero in the eyes of youth ;
but such help was of small account, for the
cardinal fact was Rocky himself. He was
a man.
There did not seem to be any known
region of the earth where prospectors roam
that he had not sampled, and yet whilst
gleaning something from every land, his native flavour
clung to him unchanged. He was silent by habit and
impossible to draw ; not helpful to those who looked for
short cuts, yet kindly and patient with those who meant
to try ; he was not to be exploited, and had an illumi-
nating instinct for what was not genuine. He had ' no
use for short weight ' — and showed it !
I used to watch him in the circle
round the fire at nights, his face grave,
weather-stained and wrinkled, with clear
grey eyes and long brown beard, slightly
grizzled then — watch and wonder why
Rocky, experienced, wise and steadfast,
should — at sixty — be seeking still. Were
the prizes so few in the prospector's
life ? or was there something wanting
in him too ? Why had he not achieved
success ?
.Many left
him respect-
fully alone ;
and some-
thing of
their feeling
came to me
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
the first time I was with him,
when a stupid chatterer talked
and asked too much. He was
not surly or taciturn, but I felt frozen through
by a calm deadly unresponsiyeness which any-
thing with blood and brain should have shrunk
under. The dull monotone, the ominous
drawl, the steady something in his clear calm
eyes which I cannot define, gave an almost
corrosive effect to innocent words and a voice
of lazy gentleness.
" What's the best thing to do following up
a wounded buffalo ? " was the question. The questions
sprung briskly, as only a ' yapper ' puts them ; and the
answers came like reluctant drops from a filter.
" Git out ! "
" Yes, but if there isn't time ? "
" Say yer prayers ! "
" No — seriously — what is the best way of tackling
one ? "
" Ef yer wawnt to know, thar's only one way :
Keep cool and shoot straight ! "
" Oh ! of course — if you can ? "
" An' ef you can't," he added, in fool-killer tones,
" best stay right home ! "
Rocky had no fancy notions : he hunted for meat
and got it as soon as possible ; he was seldom out long,
and rarely indeed came back empty-handed. I had
already learnt not to be too ready with questions. It
was better, so Rocky put it, " to keep yer eyes open
and yer mouth shut " ; but the results at first hardly
seemed to justify the process. At the end of a week
of failures and disappointments all I knew was that I
knew nothing — a very notable advance it is true, but
one quite difficult to appreciate ! Thus it came to me
in the light of a distinction when one evening, after a
rueful confession of blundering made to the party in
general, Rocky passed a brief but not unfriendly glance
over me and said, " On'y the born fools stays fools.
INTO THE BUSHVELD
11
You'll git ter learn bymbye ; you ain't always
yappin' ! "
It was not an extravagant compliment ; but failure
and helplessness act on conceit like water on a starched
collar : mine was limp by that time, and I was grateful
for little things— most grateful when next morning, as
we were discussing our several ways, he turned to me
and asked gently, " Comin' along, Boy ? "
Surprise and gratitude must have produced a touch
of effusiveness which jarred on him ; for, to the eager
exclamation and thanks, he made no answer — just
moved on, leaving me to follow. In his scheme of
life there was ' no call to slop over.'
There was a quiet unhesitating sureness and a
definiteness of purpose about old Rocky's movements
which immediately inspired confidence. We had not
been gone many minutes before I began to have visions
of exciting chases and glorious endings,
and as we walked silently along they took
possession of me so completely that I
failed to notice the difference between his
methods and mine. Presently, brimful of
excitement and hope, I asked cheerily
what he thought we would get. The old
man stopped and with a gentle graveness
of look and a voice from which all trace
of tartness or sarcasm was banished, said,
" See, Sonny ! If you been useter goin'
round like a dawg with a tin it ain't any
wonder you seen no thin'. You got ter
walk soft an' keep yer head shut ! "
In reply to my apology he said that
there was " no bell an' curtain in this yere
play ; you got ter be thar waitin'."
Rocky knew better than I did the extent
of his good nature ; he knew that in all
probability it meant a wasted day ; for,
with the best will in the world, the be-
ginner is almost certain to spoil sport. It ^
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
looks so simple and easy when you have only read
about it or heard others talk ; but there are pit-
falls at every step. When, in what seemed to me
perfectly still air, Rocky took a pinch of dust and
let it drop, and afterwards wet one finger and held
it up to feel which side cooled, it was not difficult
to know that he was trying the wind ; but when
he changed direction suddenly for no apparent
reason, or when he stopped and, after a glance
at the ground, slackened his frame, lost all interest
in sport, wind and surroundings, and addressed
a remark to me in ordinary tones, I was hope-
lessly at sea. His manner showed that some
possibility was disposed of and some idea aban-
doned. Once he said " Rietbuck ! Heard us, I
reckon," and then turned off at a right-angle ; but a
little later on he pointed to other spoor and, indifferently
dropping the one word ' Koodoo,' continued straight
on. To me the two spoors seemed equally fresh ; he
saw hours' — perhaps a whole day's — difference between
them. That the rietbuck, scared by us, had gone ahead
and was keenly on the watch for us and therefore not
worth following, and that the koodoo was on the move
and had simply struck across our line and was therefore
not to be overtaken, were conclusions he drew without
hesitation. I only saw spoor and began to palpitate
with thoughts of bagging a koodoo bull.
We had been out perhaps an hour, and by unceasing
watchfulness I had learnt many things : they were
about as well learnt and as useful as a sentence in
a foreign tongue got off by heart ; but to me they
seemed the essentials and the fundamentals of hunting.
I was feeling very pleased with myself and confident
of the result ; the stumbling over stones and stumps
had ceased ; and there was no more catching in thorns,
crunching on bare gritty places, clinking on rocks, or
crackling of dry twigs ; and as we moved on in silence
the visions of koodoo and other big game became very
real. There was nothing to hinder them : to do as
INTO THE BUSHVELD 13
Rocky did had become mechanically easy ; a glance
in his direction every now and then was enough ; there
was time and temptation to look about and still per-
haps to be the first to spot the game.
It was after taking one such casual glance around
that I suddenly missed Rocky : a moment later I saw
him moving forward, fast but silently, under cover of
an ant-heap — stooping low and signing to me with one
hand behind his back. With a horrible feeling of
having failed him I made a hurried step sideways to
get into line behind him and the ant-heap, and I
stepped right on to a pile of dry crackly sticks. Rocky
stood up quietly and waited, while I wished the earth
would open and swallow me. When I got up abreast
he half turned and looked me over with eyes slightly
narrowed and a faint but ominous smile on one side
of his mouth, and drawled out gently :
" You'd oughter brought some fire crackers ! " If
only he had sworn at me it would have been endurable.
We moved on again and this time I had eyes for
nothing but Rocky's back, and where to put my foot
next. It was not very long before he checked in mid-
stride and I stood rigid as a pointer. Peering intently
over his shoulder in the direction in which he looked
I could see nothing. The bush was very open, and
yet, even with his raised rifle
to guide me, I could not for the
life of me see what he was aim-
ing at. Then the shot rang out, and
a duiker toppled over kicking in the
grass not a hundred yards away.
The remembrance of certain things
still makes me feel uncomfortable ;
the yell of delight I let out as the
buck fell ; the wild dash forward,
which died away to a dead stop as
I realised that Rocky himself had
not moved ; the sight of him, as I
looked back, calmly reloading ; and
14
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
the silence. To me it was an event : to him, his work.
But these things were forgotten then — lost behind the
everlasting puzzle, How was it possible I had not seen
the buck until it fell ? Rocky must have known what
was worrying me, for, after we had picked up the buck,
he remarked without any preliminary, " It ain't easy
in this bush ter pick up what don't move ; an' it ain't
hardly possible ter find what ye don't know ! "
" Game, you mean ? " I asked, somewhat puzzled.
" This one was feeding," he answered, after a nod
in reply. " I saw his head go up ter listen ; but when
they don't move, an' you don't jus' know what they
look like, you kin 'most walk atop o' them. You got
ter kind o' shape 'em in yer eye, an' when you got
that fixed you kin pick 'em up 'most anywhere ! "
It cost Rocky an effort to volunteer anything. There
were others always ready to talk and advise ; but
they were no help. It was Rocky himself who once
said that " the man who's allus offerin' his advice fer
nothin' 's askin' 'bout 's much 's it's worth.'
He
seemed to run dry of words — like an overdrawn well.
For several days he took no further notice of me,
apparently having forgotten my existence or repented
his good nature. Once, when in reply to a question,
I was owning up to the hopes and chances and failures
of the day, I caught his attentive look turned on me
and was conscious of it — and a little
apprehensive — for the rest of the
evening ; but nothing happened.
The following evening however it
came out. I had felt that that look
meant something, and that
sooner or later I would catch
it. It was characteristic of him
that he could always wait, and
I never felt quite safe with him
— never comfortably sure that
something was not being saved
up for me for some mistake
INTO THE BUSHVELD
perhaps days old. He was not to be
hurried, nor was he to be put off, and
nobody ever interrupted him or headed
him off. His quiet voice was never raised,
and the lazy gentleness never disturbed ;
he seemed to know exactly what ' he
wanted to say, and to have opening and
attention waiting for him. I suppose it
was partly because he spoke so seldom :
but there was something else too — the
something that was just Rocky himself. Although
the talk appeared the result of accident, an instinct
told me from the start that it was not really so : it
was Rocky's slow and considered way.
The only dog with us was licking a cut on her
shoulder — the result of an unauthorised rush at a
wounded buck — and after an examination of her wound
we had wandered over the account of how she had got
it, and so on to discussing the dog herself. Rocky sat
in silence, smoking and looking into the fire, and the
little discussion was closed by some one saying, " She's
no good for a hunting dog — too plucky ! " It was
then I saw Rocky's eyes turned slowly on the last
speaker : he looked at him thoughtfully for a good
minute, and then remarked quietly :
" Thar ain't no sich thing as too plucky ! " And
with that he stopped, almost as if inviting contradic-
tion. Whether he wanted a reply or not one cannot
say ; anyway, he got none. No one took Rocky on
unnecessarily ; and at his leisure he resumed :
" Thar's brave men ; an'
thar's fools ; an' you kin get
some that's both. But thar's
a whole heap that ain't ! An'
it's jus' the same with dawgs.
She's no fool, but she ain't
been taught : that's what's the
matter with her. Men ha' got
ter larn : dawgs too ! Men
16
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
ain't born equal : no more's dawgs ! One's born bet t < r
'n another — more brains, more heart ; but I ain't
yet heard o' the man born with knowledge or ex-
perience ; that's what they got ter learn — men an'
dawgs ! The born fool's got to do fool's work all the
time : but the others lam ; and the brave man with
brains 's got a big pull. He don't get shook up — jus'
keeps on thinkin' out his job right along, while the
other feller's worry in' about his hide ! An' dawgs is
the same.
" Boys is like pups — you got ter help 'em some ; but
not too much, an' not too soon. They got ter larn
themselves. I reckon ef a man's never made a mistake
he's never had a good lesson. Ef you don't pay for a
thing you don't know what it's worth ; and mistakes
is part o' the price o' knowledge — the other part is
work ! But mistakes is the part you don't like payin' :
thet's why you remember it. You save a boy from
makin' mistakes, and ef he's got good stuff in him
most like you spoil it. He don't know anything
properly, 'cause he don't think ; and he don't think,
'cause you saved him the trouble an' he never learned
how ! He don't know the meanin' o' consequences
and risks, 'cause you kep' 'em off him ! An' bymbye
he gets ter believe it's born in him
ter go right, an' knows everything,
can't go wrong ; an' ef things
don't pan out in the end he
reckon it's jus' bad luck ! No !
Sirree! Ef he's got ter swim
you let him know right there that
the water's deep an' thar ain't no
one to hoi' him up, an' ef he don't
wade in an' larn, it's goin' ter be
his funeral ! "
My eyes were all for Rocky, but
he was not looking my way, and
when the next remark
*~ came, and my heart
INTO THE BUSHVELD
17
jumped and my hands and feet moved of their own
accord, his face was turned quite away from me towards
the man on his left.
" An' it's jus' the same 'ith huntin' ! It looks so
blamed easy he reckons it don't need any teachin'.
Well, let him try ! Leave him on his own till his
boots is walked off an' he's like to set down and cry,
ef he wasn't 'shamed to ; let him know every pur-
tickler sort o' blamed fool he can make of himself ;
an' then he's fit ter teach, 'cause he'll listen, an' watch,
an' learn — an' say thank ye for it ! Mostly you got
ter make a fool o' yourself once or twice ter know
what it feels like an' how t' avoid it : best do it
young — it teaches a boy ; but it kind o' breaks a
man up ! "
I kept my eyes on Rocky, avoiding the others,
fearing that a look or word might tempt some one to
rub it in ; and it was a relief when the old man
naturally and easily picked up his original point and,
turning another look on Jess, said :
" You got ter begin on the pup. It ain't her fault ;
it's yours. She's full up o' the right stuff, but she
got no show to larn ! Dawgs is all different, good an'
bad — just like men : some larns quick ; some'll never
larn. But thar ain't any too plucky ! "
He tossed a chip of green wood into the heart of the
fire and watched it spurtle and smoke, and after quite
a long pause, added :
" Thar's times when a dawg's got to see it through
an' be killed. It's his dooty — same as
a man's. I seen it done ! "
The last words were added with a
narrowing of his eyes and a curious
softening of voice — as of personal affec-
tion or regret. Others noticed it too
and in reply to a question as to
how it had happened Rocky
explained in a few words that r
a wounded buffalo had waylaid !u"i W
18
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
and tossed the man over its back, and as it turned
again to gore him the dog rushed in between, fighting
it off for a time and eventually fastening on to the
nose when the buffalo still pushed on. The check
enabled the man to reach his gun and shoot the buffalo ;
but the dog was trampled to death.
" Were you . . . ? " some one began — and then at
the look in Rocky's face, hesitated. Rocky, staring
into the fire, answered :
" It was my dawg ! "
Long after the other men were asleep I lay in my
blankets watching the tricks of light and shadow played
by the fire, as fitfully it flamed or died away. It
showed the long prostrate figures of the others as they
slept full stretch on their backs, wrapped in dark
blankets ; the waggons, touched with unwonted colours
by the flames, and softened to ghostly shadows when
they died ; the oxen, sleeping contentedly at their
yokes ; Rocky's two donkeys, black and grey, tethered
under a thorn-tree — now and then a long ear moving
slowly to some distant sound and dropping back again
satisfied. I could not sleep ; but Rocky was sleep-
ing like a babe. He, gaunt and spare — 6 ft. 2 he
must have stood — weather-beaten and old, with the
long solitary trip before him and sixty odd years of
life behind, he slept when he laid his head down, and
was wide awake and rested when he raised it. He,
who had been through it all, slept ; but I, who had
only listened, was haunted, bewitched, possessed, by
racing thoughts ; and all on account
of four words, and the way he said
them, " It was my dawg."
INTO THE BUSHVELD
19
It was still dark, with a faint promise of saffron in
the East, when I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard
Rocky 's voice saying, " Comin' along, Sonny ? "
One of the drivers raised his head to look at us as
we passed, and then called to his voorlooper to turn
the cattle loose to graze, and dropped back to sleep.
We left them so and sallied out into the pure clear
morning while all the world was still, while the air,
cold and subtly stimulating, put a spring into the
step and an extra beat or two into the pulse, fairly
rinsing lungs and eyes and brain.
What is there to tell of that day ? Why ! nothing,
really nothing, except that it was a happy day — a
day of little things that all went well, and so it came
to look like the birthday of the hunting. What did
it matter to me that we were soaked through in ten
minutes ? for the dew weighed down the heavy-topped
grass with clusters of crystal drops that looked like
diamond sprays. It was all too beautiful for words :
and so it should be in the spring-time of youth.
Rocky was different that day. He showed me
things ; reading the open book of nature that I could
not understand. He pointed out the spoors
going to and from the drinking-place, and
named the various animals ; showed me
one more deeply indented than the rest
and, murmuring " Scared I guess," pointed
to where it had dashed off out of the
regular track; picked out the big splayed
pad of the hyena sneaking round under
cover ; stopped quietly
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
in his stride to point where a hare was
sitting up cleaning itself, not ten yards
off ; stopped again at the sound of a
clear, almost metallic, ' clink,' and pointed
to a little sandy gully in front of us down
which presently came thirty or forty
guinea-fowl in single file, moving swiftly,
running and walking, and all in absolute
silence except for that one 'clink.' How did he know
they were there, and which way they would go, and
know it all so promptly ? were questions I asked
myself.
We walked with the sun — that is, towards the West
— so that the light would show up the game and be
in their eyes, making it more difficult for them to see
us. We watched a little red stembuck get up from
his form, shake the dew from his coat, stretch himself,
and then pick his way daintily through the wet grass,
nibbling here and there as he went. Rocky did not
fire ; he wanted something better.
After the sun had risen, flooding the whole country
with golden light, and, while the dew lasted, making
it glisten like a bespangled transformation scene, we
came on a patch of old long grass and, parted by some
twenty yards, walked through it abreast. There was
a wild rush from under my feet, a yellowish body
dashed through the grass, and I got out in time to see
a rietbuck ram cantering away. Then Rocky, beside
me, gave a shrill whistle ; the buck stopped, side on,
looked back at us, and Rocky dropped it where it
stood. Instantly follow-
ing the shot there was
another rush on our left,
and before the second
rietbuck had gone thirty
yards Rocky toppled it
over in its tracks. From
the whistle to the second
shot it was all done in
INTO THE BUSHVELD
21
about ten seconds. To me it looked like magic. I
could only gasp.
We cleaned the bucks, and hid them in a bush.
There "was meat enough for the camp then, and I
thought we would return at once for boys to carry
it ; but Rocky, after a moment's glance round,
shouldered his rifle and moved on again. I followed,
asking no questions. We had been gone only a few
minutes when to my great astonishment he stopped
and pointing straight in front asked :
" What 'ud you put up for that stump ? "
I looked hard, and answered confidently, " Two
hundred ! "
" Step it ! " was his reply. I paced the distance ;
it was eighty-two yards.
It was very bewildering ; but he
helped me out a bit with " Bush
telescopes, Sonny ! "
" You mean it magnifies them ? " I
asked in surprise.
" No ! Magnifies the distance, like
lookin' down an avenue ! Gun barr'l
looks a mile long when you put yer
eye to it ! Open flats brings 'em
closer ; and 'cross water or a gully
seems like you kin put yer hand on
'em ! "
" I would have missed — by feet —
that time, Rocky ! "
" You kin take it fer a start,
Halve the distance and aim low ! "
" Aim low, as well ? "
22
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
" Thar's allus somethin' low : legs, an' ground to
show what you done ! But thar's no ' outers ' marked
on the sky ! "
Once, as we walked along, he paused to look at
some freshly overturned ground, and dropped the one
word, ' Pig.' We turned then to the right and pre-
sently came upon some vlei ground densely covered
with tall green reeds. He slowed down as we
approached ; I tip-toed in sympathy ; and when only
a few yards off he stopped and beckoned me on, and
as I came abreast he raised his hand in warning and
pointed into the reeds. There was a curious subdued
sort of murmur of many deep voices. It conveys no
idea of the fact to say they were grunts. They were
softened out of all recognition : there is only one word
for it, they sounded ' confidential.'
Then as we listened I could make out
the soft silky rustling of the rich
undergrowth, and presently, could
follow, by the quivering and waving
of odd reeds, the movements of the
animals themselves. They were only
a few yards from us — the nearest four
or five ; they were busy and con-
tented ; and it was obvious they were
utterly unconscious of our presence.
As we peered down to the reeds from
our greater height it seemed that we
could see the ground and that not so
much as a rat could have passed un-
noticed. Yet we saw nothing !
And then,
without the
slightest sign,
cause or warn-
1 x ing that I could
detect, in one
instant every
sound ceased.
INTO THE BUSHVELD
I watched the reeds like a cat on the pounce :
never a stir or sign or sound : they had
vanished. I turned to Rocky : he was stand-
ing at ease, and there was the faintest look of
amusement in his eyes.
" They must be there ; they can't have got
away ? " It was a sort of indignant protest
against his evident ' chucking it ' ; but it was
full of doubt ail the same.
" Try ! " he said, and I jumped into the reeds
straight away. The under- foliage, it is true, was
thicker and deeper than it had looked ; but for all
that it was like a conjuring trick — they were not there !
I waded through a hundred yards or more of the
narrow belt — it was not more than twenty yards wide
anywhere — but the place was deserted. It struck me
then that if they could dodge us at five to ten yards
while we were watching from the bank and they did
not know it — Well, I ' chucked it ' too. Rocky was
standing in the same place with the same faint look
of friendly amusement when I got back, wet and
muddy.
" Pigs is like that," he said, " same as elephants —
jus' disappears ! "
We went on again, and a quarter of an hour later,
it may be, Rocky stopped, subsided to a sitting posi-
tion, beckoned to me, and pointed with his levelled
rifle in front. It was a couple of minutes
before he could get me to see the stem-
buck standing in the
shade of a thorn tree.
I would never have
seen it but for his
whisper to look for
something moving :
that gave it to me ;
I saw the movement
of the head as it
cropped.
24
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
" High : right ! " was Rocky's comment, as the
bullet ripped the bark off a tree and the startled stem-
buck raced away. In the excitement I had forgotten
his advice already !
But there was no time to feel sick and disgusted ;
the buck, puzzled by the report on one side and the
smash on the tree on the other, half circled us and
stopped to look back. Rocky laid his hand on my
shoulder :
" Take your time, Sonny ! " he said. " Aim low ;
an' dorit putt ! Squeeze ! " And at last I got it.
We had our breakfast there — the liver roasted on
the coals, and a couple of ' dough-boys,' with the
unexpected addition of a bottle of cold tea, weak and
unsweetened, produced from Rocky's knapsack ! We
stayed there a couple of hours, and that is the only
time he really opened out. I understood then — at last
— that of his deliberate kindliness he had come out
that morning meaning to make a happy day of it for
a youngster ; and he did it.
He had the knack of getting at the heart of things,
and putting it all in the fewest words. He spoke in
the same slow grave way, with habitual economy of
breath and words ; and yet the pictures
were living and real, and each incident
complete. I seemed to get from him that
morning all there was to know of the hunt-
ing in two great continents — Grizzlies
and other ' bar,' Moose and Wapiti,
hunted in the snows of the North-
West ; Elephant, Buffalo, Rhino, Lions,
INTO THE BUSHVELD
25
and scores more, in the sweltering heat
of Africa !
That was a happy day !
When I woke up next morning Rocky
was fitting the packs on his donkeys. I
was a little puzzled, wondering at first
if he was testing the saddles, for he had
said nothing about moving on ; but when
he joined us at breakfa'st the donkeys
stood packed ready to start. Then
Robbie asked :
" Going to make a move, Rocky ? "
" Yes ! Reckon I'll git ! " he answered quietly.
I ate in silence, thinking of what he was to face :
many hundreds of miles — perhaps a thousand or two ;
many, many months — may be a year or two ; wild
country, wild tribes, and wild beasts ; floods and fever ;
accident, hunger, and disease ; and alone !
When we had finished breakfast he rinsed out his
beaker and hung it on one of the packs, slung his
rifle over his shoulder, and picking up his long assegai-
wood walking-stick tapped the donkeys lightly to turn
them into the Kaffir footpath that led away
North. They jogged on into place in single
file.
Rocky paused a second before following,
turned one brief
grave glance on
us, and said :
" Well. So
long ! "
He never
came back !
GOOD dogs were not easy to get ; I had
tried hard enough for one before starting,
but without success. Even unborn puppies had jealous
prospective owners waiting to claim them.
There is always plenty of room at the top of the
tree, and good hunting dogs were as rare as good men,
good horses, and good front-oxen. A lot of qualities
are needed in the make-up of a good hunting dog :
size, strength, quickness, scent, sense and speed — and
plenty of courage. They are very very difficult to
get ; but even small dogs are useful, and many a fine
feat stands to the credit of little terriers in guarding
camps at night and in standing off wounded animals
that meant mischief.
Dennison was saved from a wounded lioness by his
two fox terriers. He had gone out to shoot bush-
pheasants, and came unexpectedly on a lioness playing
with her cubs : the cubs hid in the grass, but she stood
up at bay to protect them, and he, forgetting that
he had taken the big ' looper ' cartridges from his
gun and reloaded with No. 6, fired. The shot only
maddened her, and she charged ; but the two dogs
dashed at her, one at each side, barking, snapping
and yelling, rushing in and jumping back so fast and
furiously that they flustered her. Leaving the man
for the moment, she turned on them, dabbing viciously
with her huge paws, first at one, then at the other ;
quick as lightning she struck right and left as a kitten
will at a twirled string ; but they kept out of reach.
26
JESS
29
After he had disappeared she ran
back to her patch of grass and lay
down, but in a few minutes she was
back again squatting in the road look-
ing with that same anxious worried
expression after her master. Thus
she went to and fro for the quarter
of an hour it took us to inspan, and each
time she passed we could hear a faint anxious little
whine.
The oxen were inspanned and the last odd things
were being put up when one of the boys came to say
that he could not get the guns and water-barrel be-
cause Jess would not let him near them. There was
something the matter with the dog, he said ; he thought
she was mad.
Knowing how Jess hated kaffirs we laughed at the
notion, and went for the things ourselves. As we
came within five yards of the tree where we had left
the guns there was a rustle in the grass, and Jess came
out with her swift silent run, appearing as unex-
pectedly as a snake does, and with some odd sugges-
tion of a snake in her look and attitude. Her head,
body and tail were in a dead line, and she was
crouching slightly as for a spring ; her ears
were laid flat back, her lips twitching
constantly, showing the strong white
teeth, and her cross wicked eyes had
such a look of remorseless cruelty in them
that we stopped as if we had been turned
to stone. She never moved a muscle or
made a sound, but kept those eyes steadily
30 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
fixed on us. We moved back a pace or two and
began to coax and wheedle her ; but it was no
good ; she never moved or made a sound, and the
unblinking look remained. For a minute we stood
our ground, and then the hair on her back and
shoulders began very slowly to stand up. That \\as
enough : we cleared off. It was a mighty uncanny
appearance.
Then another tried his hand ; but it was just the
same. No one could do anything with her ; no one
could get near the guns or the water-barrel ; as soon
as we returned for a fresh attempt she reappeared in
the same place and in the same way.
The position was too ridiculous, and we were at
our wits' end ; for Jess held the camp. The kaffirs
declared the dog was mad, and we began to have
very uncomfortable suspicions that they were right ;
but we decided to make a last attempt, and surround-
ing the place approached from all sides. But the
suddenness with which she appeared before we got
into position so demoralised the kaffirs that they
bolted, and we gave it up, owning ourselves beaten.
We turned to watch her as she ran back for the last
time, and as she disappeared in the grass we heard
distinctly the cry of a very young puppy. Then the
secret of Jess's madness was out.
We had to send for Ted, and when he returned a
couple of hours later Jess met him out on the road
in the dark where she had been watching half the
time ever since he left. She jumped up at his chest
giving a long tremulous whimper of welcome, and then
ran ahead straight to the nest in the grass.
He took a lantern and we followed, but not too
close. When he knelt down to look at the puppies
she stood over them and pushed herself in between
him and them ; when he put out a hand to touch
them she pushed it away with her nose, whining softly
in protest and trembling with excitement — you could
see she would not bite, but she hated him to touch
JESS
31
her puppies. Finally, when he picked one up she
gave a low cry and caught
his wrist gently, but held
it.
That was Jess, the
mother of Jock !
THERE were six puppies, and as the waggons
|p were empty we fixed up a roomy nest in one
of them for Jess and her family. There was
^-^. -^ no trouble with Jess ; nobody interfered with
her, and she interfered with nobody. The boys kept
clear of her; but we used to take a look at her and
the puppies as we walked along with the waggons ; so
by degrees she got to know that we would not harm
them, and she no longer wanted to eat us alive if we
went near and talked to her.
Five of the puppies were fat strong yellow little
chaps with dark muzzles — just like their father, as
Ted said ; and their father was an imported dog, and
was always spoken of as the best dog of the breed
that had ever been in the country. I never saw him,
so I do not really know what he was like — perhaps
he was not a yellow dog at all ; but, whatever he
was, he had at that time a great reputation because
he was ' imported,' and there were not half a dozen
imported dogs in the whole of thS. Transvaal then.
Mar\y people used to ask what
breed the puppies were — I sup-
pose it was because poor cross
faithful old Jess was not much
to look at, andjaecause no one
had a very high opinion of yellow
dogs in general, and nobody
seemed to remember any famous
yellow, bull-terriers.
I 32
THE PICK OF THE PUPPIES
Jess looked after her puppies and knew
nothing about the remarks that were
made, so they did not worry her, but I
often looked at the faithful old thing with
her dark brindled face, cross-looking eyes
and always-moving ears, and thought it
jolly hard lines that nobody had a good
word for her ; it seemed rough on her
that every one should be glad there was
only one puppy at all like the mother —
the sixth one, a poor miserable little rat
of a thing about half the size of the others.
He was not yellow like them, nor dark brindled
like Jess, but a sort of dirty pale half-and-half
colour with some dark faint wavy lines all over him,
as if he had tried to be brindled and failed ; and he
had a dark sharp wizened little muzzle that looked
shrivelled up with age.
Most of the fellows said it would be a good thing
to drown the odd one because he spoilt the litter and
made them look as though they were not really
thoroughbred, and because he was such a miserable
little rat that he was not worth saving anyhow ; but
in the end he was allowed to live. I believe no one
fancied the job of taking one of Jess's puppies away
from her ; moreover, as -any dog was better than none,
I had offered to take him rather than let him' be
drowned. Ted had old friends to whom he had
already promised the pick of the puppies, so when I
came along it was too late, and all he could promise
me was that if there should be one over I might
have it.
As they grew older and were able to crawl ^/>
about they were taken off the waggons when
we outspanned and put on the ground. Jess
got to understand this at once, and
she used to watch us quite quietly as
we took them in our hands to put
them down or lift them back again.
34
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
When they were two or three weeks old a
man came to the waggons who talked a
great deal about dogs, and appeared to
know what had to be done. He said
that the puppies' tails ought to be docked,
and that a bull-terrier would be no class
at all with a long tail, but you should on
no account clip his ears. I thought he was speaking
of fox-terriers, and that with bull-terriers the position
was the other way round, at that time ; but as he
said it was ' the thing ' in England, and nobody contra-
dicted him, I shut up. We found out afterwards that
he had made a mistake ; but it was too late then,
and Jess's puppies started life as bull-terriers up to
date, with long ears and short tails.
I felt sure from the beginning that all the yellow
puppies would be claimed and that I should have to
take the odd one, or none at all ; so I began to look
upon him as mine already, and to take an interest in
him and look after him. A long time ago somebody
wrote that " the sense of possession turns sand into
gold," and it is one of the truest things ever said.
Until it seemed that this queer-looking odd puppy
was going to be mine I used to think and say very
much what the others did — but with this difference,
that I always felt sorry for him, and sorry
for Jess too, because he was like her and
not like the father. I used to think that
perhaps if he were given a chance he might
grow up like poor old Jess herself,
ugly, cross and unpopular, but brave
THE PICK OF THE PUPPIES
35
and faithful. I felt sorry for him, too, because he was
small and weak, and the other five big puppies used to
push him away from his food and trample on him ; and
when they were old enough to play they used to pull
him about by his ears and pack on to him — three or
four to one — and bully him horribly. Many a time I
rescued him, and many a time gave him a little pre-
served milk and water with bread soaked in it when
the others had shouldered him out and eaten every-
thing.
After a little while, when my chance of getting
one of the good puppies seemed hopeless and I got
used to the idea that I would have to take the odd
one, I began to notice little things about him that
no one else noticed, and got to be quite fond of the
little beggar — in a kind of way. Perhaps I was turning
my sand into gold, and my geese into swans ; perhaps
I grew fond of him simply because, finding him lonely
and with no one else to depend on, I befriended him ;
and perhaps it was because he was always cheerful
and plucky and it seemed as if there might be some
good stuff in him after all. Those were the things I
used to think of sometimes when feeding the little
outcast. The other puppies would tumble him over,
and take his food from him ; they would bump into
him when he was stooping over the dish of milk and
porridge, and his head was so big
and his legs so weak that he would
tip up and go heels over head into
the dish. We were always picking
him out of the food and scraping
it off him ; half the time he was
wet and sticky, and the other half
covered with porridge and sand
baked hard by the sun.
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
One day just after the waggons had
started, as I took a final look round the
outspan place to see if anything had been
forgotten, I found the little chap — who
was only about four inches high — strugg-
ling to walk through the long grass. He
was not big enough or strong enough
to push his way — even the stems of the
down-trodden grass tripped him — and he stumbled
and floundered at every step, but he got up again
each time with his little tail standing straight up,
his head erect, and his ears cocked. He looked such
a ridiculous sight that his little tragedy of " lost in
the veld " was forgotten — one could only laugh.
What he thought he was doing, goodness only knows ;
he looked as proud and important as if he owned
the whole world and knew that every one in it was
watching him. The poor little chap could not see a
yard in that grass ; and in any case he was not old
enough to see much, or understand anything, for his
eyes still had that bluish blind look that all very young
puppies have, but he was marching along as full of
confidence as a general at the head of his army. How
he fell out of the waggon no one knew ; perhaps the
big puppies tumbled him out, or he may have tried
to follow Jess, or have climbed over the tail-board to
see what was the other side, for he was always going
off exploring by himself. His little world was small,
it may be — only the bedplank of the waggon and the
few square yards of the ground on which they were
dumped at the outspans — but he took it as seriously
as any explorer who ever tackled a continent.
The others were a bit more softened towards the
odd puppy \vhen I caught up to the waggons and
told them of his valiant struggle to follow ; and the
man who had docked the puppies' tails allowed, " I
believe the rat's got pluck, whatever else is the matter
with him, for he was the only one that didn't howl
when I snipped them. The little cuss just gave a
THE PICK OF THE PUPPIES
37
grunt and turned round as if he wanted to eat me.
I think he'd 'a' been terrible angry if he hadn't been so
s'prised. Pity he's such an awful-looking mongrel."
But no one else said a good word for him : he was
really beneath notice, and if ever they had to speak
about him they called him " The Rat." There is no
doubt about it he was extremely ugly, and instead of
improving as he grew older, he became worse ; yet,
I could not help liking him and looking after him,
sometimes feeling sorry for him, sometimes being
tremendously amused, and sometimes — wonderful to
relate — really admiring him. He was extraordinarily
silent ; while the others barked at nothing, howled
when lonely, and yelled when frightened or hurt, the
odd puppy did none of these things ; in fact, he began
to show many of Jess's peculiarities ; he hardly ever
barked, and when he did it was not a wild excited
string of barks but little suppressed muffled noises,
half bark and half growl, and just one or two at a
time ; and he did not appear to be afraid of anything,
so one could not tell what he would do if he was.
One day we had an amusing instance of his nerve :
one of the oxen, sniffing about the outspan, caught
sight of him all alone, and filled with curiosity came
up to examine him, as a hulking silly old tame ox
will do. It moved towards him slowly and heavily
with its ears spread wide and its head down, giving
great big sniffs at this new object, trying to make out
Avhat it was. " The Rat " stood quite still with his
stumpy tail cocked up and his head a little on one
side, and when the huge ox's nose was about a foot
from him he gave one
of those funny
abrupt little
barks. It
was as if
the ob-
ject had
suddenly
38
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
' gone off ' like a cracker, and the ox nearly tumbled
over with fright ; but even when the great moun-
tain of a thing gave a clumsy plunge round and
trotted off, " The Rat " was not the least frightened ;
he was startled, and his tail and ears flickered for a
second, but stiffened up again instantly, and with
another of those little barks he took a couple of steps
forward and cocked his head on the other side. That
was his way.
He was not a bit like the other puppies ; if any one
fired off a gun or cracked one of the big whips the
whole five would yell at the top of their voices and,
wherever they were, would start running, scrambling
and floundering as fast as they could towards the
waggon without once looking back to see what they
were running away from. The odd puppy would drop
his bone with a start or would jump round ; his ears
and tail would flicker up and down for a second ;
then he would slowly bristle up all over, and with his
head cocked first on one side and then on the other,
stare hard with his half-blind bluish puppy eyes in the
direction of the noise ; but he never ran away.
And so, little by little, I got to like him in spite
of his awful ugliness. And it really was
awful ! The other puppies grew big all
over, but the odd one at that time seemed
to grow only in one part — his tummy !
The poor little chap was born small and
weak ; he had always been bullied and
crowded out by the others, and the truth
is he was hah* starved. The natural con-
sequence of this was that as soon as he
could walk about and pick up things for
himself he made up for
lost time, and filled up
his middle piece to an
^ alarming size before the
other parts of his body
had time to grow ; at
THE PICK OF THE PUPPIES
39
that time he looked more like a big tock-tockie beetle
than a dog.
Besides the balloon-like tummy he had stick-out
bandy-legs, very like a beetle's too, and a neck so
thin that it made the head look enormous, and you
wondered how the neck ever held it up. But what
made him so supremely ridiculous was that he evi-
dently did not know he was ugly ; he walked about
as if he was always thinking of his dignity, and he
had that puffed-out and stuck-up air of importance
that you only see in small people and bantam cocks
who are always trying to appear an inch taller than
they really are.
When the puppies were about a month old, and
could feed on porridge or bread soaked in soup or
gravy, they got to be too much for Jess, and she used
to leave them for hours at a time and hide in the grass
so as to have a little peace and sleep. Puppies are
always hungry, so they soon began to hunt about for
themselves, and would find scraps of meat and porridge
or old bones ; and if they could not get anything else,
would try to eat the raw-hide nekstrops
and reims. Then the fights began. As
soon as one puppy saw another busy on
anything, he would walk over towards
him and, if strong enough, fight him for
it. All day long it was nothing but
wrangle, snarl, bark and yelp. Some-
times four or five would be at it in one
scrum ; because as soon as one heard a
row going on he would trot up hoping to
steal the bone
while the
others were
busy fighting.
It was then
that I noticed
other things
about
r«
40
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
the odd puppy : no matter how many packed on to
him, or how they bit or pulled him, he never once
let out a yelp ; with four or five on top of him you
would see him on his back, snapping right and left
with bare white teeth, gripping and worrying them
when he got a good hold of anything, and all the time
growling and snarling with a fierceness that was really
comical. It sounded as a lion fight might sound in
a toy phonograph.
Before many days passed, it was clear that some
of the other puppies were inclined to leave " The
Rat " alone, and that only two of them — the two
biggest — seemed anxious to fight him and could take
his bones away. The reason soon became apparent :
instead of wasting his breath in making a noise, or
wasting strength in trying to tumble the others over,
" The Rat " simply bit hard and hung on ; noses, ears,
lips, cheeks, feet and even tails — all came handy to
him ; anything he could get hold of and hang on to
was good enough, and the result generally was that
in about half a minute the other puppy would leave
everything and clear off yelling, and probably holding
up one paw or hanging its head on one side to ease
a chewed ear.
When either of the big puppies tackled the little
fellow the fight lasted much longer. Even if he were
tumbled over at once — as generally happened — and the
other one stood over him barking and growling, that
did not end the fight ; as soon as the other chap got
off him he would struggle up and begin again ; he
would not give in. The other puppies seemed to
think there was some sort of rule like the ' count out '
in boxing,
orthat once
y o u we r e
"urabled
give up the
THE PICK OF THE PUPPIES
bone ; but the odd puppy apparently did
not care about rules ; as far as I could see,
he had just one rule : " Stick to it," so it
was not very long before even the two big
fellows gave up interfering with him. The
bites from his little white teeth — sharp as
needles — which punctured noses and feet
and tore ears, were most unpleasant. But
apart from that, they found there was nothing to
be gained by fighting him : they might roll him over
time after time, but he came back again and worried
them so persistently that it was quite impossible to
enjoy the bone— they had to keep on fighting for it.
At first I drew attention to these things, but there
was no encouragement from the others ; they merely
laughed at the attempt to make the best of a bad
job. Sometimes owners of other puppies wrere nettled
by having their beauties compared with " The Rat,"
or were annoyed because he had the cheek to fight
for his own and beat them. Once, when I had de-
scribed how well he had stood up to Billy's pup,
Robbie caught up " The Rat," and placing him on
the table, said : " Hats off to the Duke of Wellington
on the field of Waterloo." That seemed to me the
poorest sort of joke to send five grown men into fits
of laughter. He stood there on the table with his
head on one side, one ear standing up, and his stumpy
tail twiggling — an absurd picture of friendliness, pride
and confidence ; yet he was so ugly and ridiculous
that my heart sank, and I whisked him away. They
made fun of him, and he did not mind ; but it was
making fun of me too, and I could not help knowing
why ; it was only
necessary to put
the puppies toge-
ther to see the
reason.
After that I
stopped talking
42
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
about him, and made the most of the good points he
showed, and tried to discover more. It was the only
consolation for having to take the leavings of the litter.
Then there came a day when something happened
which might easily have turned out very differently,
and there would have been no stories and no Jock
to tell about ; and the best dog in the world would
never have been my friend and companion. The
puppies had been behaving very badly, and had stolen
several nekstrops and chewed up parts of one or two
big whips ; the drivers were grumbling about all the
damage done and the extra work it gave them ; and
Ted, exasperated by the worry of it all, announced
that the puppies were quite old enough to be taken
away, and that those who had picked puppies must
take them at once and look after them, or let some
one else have them. When I heard him say that my
heart gave a little thump from excitement, for I knew
the day had come when the great question would be
settled once and for all. Here was a glorious and
unexpected chance ; perhaps one of the others would
not or could not take his, and I might get one of the
good ones. ... Of course the two big ones would be
that was certain ; for, even if the men
who had picked them could not take
them, others who had been promised
puppies before me would exchange
those they had already chosen for the
better ones. Still, there were other
chances ; and I
thought of very
little else all
day long,
wondering
if any of the
good ones
would be
left ; and if
so, which ?
snapped up
THE PICK OF THE PUPPIES
43
In the afternoon Ted came up to where we were
all lying in the shade and startled us with the momen-
tous announcement :
" Billy Griffiths can't take his pup ! "
Every man of us sat up. Billy's pup was the first
pick, the champion of the litter, the biggest and
strongest of the lot. Several of the others said at
once that they would exchange theirs for this one ;
but Ted smiled and shook his head.
" No," he said, " you had a good pick in the begin-
ning." Then he turned to me, and added : " You've
only had leavings." Some one said " The Rat," and
there was a shout of laughter, but Ted went on ;
" You can have Billy's pup."
It seemed too good to be true ; not even in my
wildest imaginings had I fancied myself getting the
pick of the lot. I hardly waited to thank Ted before
going off to look at my champion. I had seen and
admired him times out of number, but it seemed as
if he must look different nowr that he belonged to me.
He was a fine big fellow, well built and strong, and
looked as if he could beat all the rest put together.
His legs were straight ; his neck sturdy ;
his muzzle dark and shapely ; his ears
equal and well carried ; and in the sunlight
his yellow coat looked quite bright, with
occasional glints of gold in it. He was
indeed a handsome fellow.
As I put him back again with the others
the odd puppy, who had stood up and
sniffed at me when I came, licked my hand
and twiddled
his tail with
the friend-
liest and most
independent
air, as if he
knew me
quite well
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
and was glad to see me, and I pat t id
the poor little chap as he waddled
up. I had forgotten him in the ex-
citement of getting Billy's pup ; but
the sight of him made me think of
his funny ways, his pluck and inde-
pendence, and of how he had not
a friend in the world except Jess and me; and I frit
downright sorry for him. I picked him up and talked
to him ; and when his wizened little face was close
to mine, he opened his mouth as if laughing, and
shooting out his red tongue dabbed me right on the
tip of my nose in pure friendliness. The poor little
fellow looked more ludicrous than ever : he had been
feeding again and was as tight as a drum ; his skin
was so tight one could not help thinking that if he
walked over a mimosa thorn and got a scratch on the
tummy he would burst like a toy balloon.
I put him back with the other puppies and returned
to the tree where Ted and the rest were sitting. As
I came up there was a shout of laughter, and — turning
round to see what had provoked it — I found " The
Rat " at my heels. He had followed me and was
trotting and stumbling along, tripping every yard or
so, but getting up again with head erect, ears cocked
and his stumpy tail twiddling away just as pleased
and proud as if he thought he had really started in
life and was doing what only a ' really and truly '
grown-up dog is supposed to do — that is, follow his
master wherever he goes.
All the old chaff and jokes were fired off at me again,
and I had no peace for quite a time. They all had
something to say : " He won't swap you off ! " " I'll
back ' The Rat ' ! " " He is going to take care of
you ! " " He is afraid you'll get lost ! " and so on ;
and they were still chaffing about it when I grabbed
" The Rat " and took him back again.
Billy's failure to take his puppy was so entirely
unexpected and so important that the subject kept
"AND THERE AT MY HEELS WAS THE ODD PUPPY"
45
cropping up all the evening. It was very amusing
then to see how each of those who had wanted to
get him succeeded in finding good reasons for think-
ing that his own puppy was really better than Billy's.
However they differed in their estimates of each other's
dogs, they all agreed that the best judge in the world
could not be certain of picking out the best dog in
a good litter until the puppies were several months
old ; and they all gave instances in which the best
looking puppy had turned out the worst dog, and
others in which the one that no one would look at
had grown up to be the champion. Goodness knows
how long this would have gone on if Robbie had not
mischievously suggested that " perhaps ' The Rat '
was going to beat the whole lot." There was such a
chorus of guffaws at this that no one told any more
stories.
The poor little friendless Rat ! It was unfortunate,
but the truth is that he was uglier than before ; and
yet I could not help liking him. I fell asleep
that night thinking of the two puppies —
the best and the worst in the litter. No
sooner had I gone over all the splendid points
in Billy's pup and made up my mind that
he was certainly the finest I had ever seen,
than the friendly wizened little face, the
half-cocked ears and head on one side, the
cocky little stump of a tail, and the comical
dignified plucky look of the odd puppy would
all come back to me. The thought of how
he had licked my hand and twiddled his tail
at me, and how he dabbed me on the nose,
and then the manful way in which he had
struggled after me through the grass, all made
my heart go soft towards him, and I fell
asleep not knowing what to do.
When I woke up in the morning, my first
thought was of the odd puppy — how he looked
to me as his only friend, and what he would
48
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
feel like if, after looking on me as really belonging to
him and as the one person that he was going to take
care of all his life, he knew he was to be left behind
or given away to any one who would take him. It
would never have entered his head that he required
some one to look after him ; from the way he had
followed me the night before it was clear he was looking
after me ; and the other fellows thought the same thing.
His whole manner had plainly said : " Never mind, old
man ! Don't you worry : I am here."
We used to make our first trek at about three o'clock
in the morning, so as to be outspanned by sunrise ;
and walking along during that morning trek I re-
called all the stories that the others had told of
miserable puppies having grown into wonderful dogs,
and of great men who had been very ordinary children ;
and at breakfast I took the plunge.
" Ted," I said, bracing myself for the laughter, " if
you don't mind, I'll stick to ' The Rat.' '
If I had fired off a gun under their noses they would
have been much less startled. Robbie made a grab
for his plate as it slipped from his knees.
" Don't do that sort of thing ! " he protested in-
dignantly. " My nerves won't stand it ! "
The others stopped eating and drinking, held their
beakers of steaming coffee well out of the way to get
a better look at me, and when they saw it was seriously
meant there was a chorus of :
" Well, I'm hanged."
I took him in hand at once — for now he was really
mine — and brought him over for his saucer of soaked
THE PICK OF THE PUPPIES
47
bread and milk to where we sat at breakfast. Beside
me there was a rough camp table — a luxury some-
times indulged in while camping or trekking with
empty waggons — on which we put our tinned-milk,
treacle and such things to keep them out of reach
of the ants, grasshoppers, Hottentot-gods, beetles
and dust. I put the puppy and his saucer in a
safe place under the table out of the way of stray feet,
and sank the saucer into the sand so that when he
trod in it he would not spill the food ; for puppies are
quite stupid as they are greedy, and seem to think that
they can eat faster by getting further into the dish.
He appeared to be more ravenous than usual, and we
were all amused by the way the little fellow craned
his thin neck out further and further until he tipped
up behind and his nose bumping into the saucer see-
sawed him back again. He finished it all and looked
round briskly at me, licking his lips and twiddling his
stumpy tail.
Well, I meant to make a dog of him, so I gave him
another lot. He was just like a little child — he
thought he was very hungry still and could eat any
amount more ; but it was not possible. The lapping
became slower and more laboured, with
pauses every now and then to get breath
or lick his lips and look about him, until
at last he was fairly beaten : he could only
look at it, blink and lick his chops ; and,
knowing that he would keep on trying, I
took the saucer
away. He was
too full to object
or to run after it ;
he was too full to
move. He stood
where he was, with
his legs well spread
and his little body
blown out like a
48
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
balloon, and finished lick-
ing the drops and crumbs
off his face without mov-
ing a foot.
There was something so
extraordinarily funny in
the appearance and atti-
tude of the puppy that we watched to see what he
would do next. He had been standing very close
to the leg of the table, but not quite touching it,
when he finished feeding ; and even after he had
done washing his face and cleaning up generally,
he stood there stock still for several minutes, as
though it was altogether too much trouble to move.
One little bandy hind leg stuck out behind the table-
leg, and the bulge of his little tummy stuck out in
front of it ; so that when at last he decided to make
a move the very first little lurch brought his hip up
against the table-leg. In an
instant the puppy's appearance
changed completely : the hair on
his back and shoulders bristled ;
his head went up erect; one ear
stood up straight and the other at
half cock ; and his stumpy tail
quivered with rage. He evidently
thought that one of the other
puppies had come up behind to
interfere with him. He was too
proud to turn round and appear
to be nervous : with head erect
he glared hard straight in front
of him, and, with all the
little breath that he had
left after his big feed, he
growled ferociously in comi-
cal little gasps. He stood
like that, not moving an
/" inch, with the front foot
THE PICK OF THE PUPPIES 49
still ready to take that step forward ; and then, as
nothing more happened, the hair on his back gradually
went flat again ; the fierceness died out of his face ;
and the growling stopped.
After a minute's pause, he again very slowly and
carefully began to step forward ; of course exactly
the same thing happened again, except that this time
he shook all over with rage, and the growling was
fiercer and more choky. One could not imagine any-
thing so small being in so great a rage. He took
longer to cool down, too, and much longer before he
made the third attempt to start. But the third time
it was all over in a second. He seemed to think
that this was more than any dog could stand, and
that he must put a stop to it. The instant his hip
touched the leg, he whipped round with a ferocious
snarl — his little white teeth bared and gleaming — and
bumped his nose against the table-leg.
I cannot say whether it was because of the shout
of laughter from us, or because he really understood
what had happened, that he looked so foolish, but
he just gave one crestfallen look at me and with a
feeble wag of his tail waddled off as fast as he could.
Then Ted nodded over at me, and said : "I believe
you have got the champion after all ! "
And I was too proud to speak.
c
JOCKS -SCHOOLDAYS
AFTER that day no one spoke of " The Rat " or " The
Odd Puppy," or used any of the numberless nicknames
that they had given him. They still laughed at his
ridiculous dignity ; and they loved to tease him to
see him stiffen with rage and hear his choky little
growls ; but they liked his independence and admired
his tremendous pluck. So they respected his name
when he got one.
And his name was " Jock."
Jock got such a good advertisement by his fight
with the table-leg that every one took notice of him
now and remarked about what he did ; and as he was
only a very young puppy, they teased him, fed him,
petted him, and did their best to spoil him. He was
so young that it did not seem to matter, but I think
if he had not been a really good dog at heart he would
have been quite spoilt.
The day Jock fought the two big puppies — one
after the other — for his bone, and beat them off, was
the day of his independence ; we all saw the tussle,
and cheered the little chap. And then for one whole
day he had peace ; but it was like the pause at low
water before the tide begins to flow the other way.
He was so used to being interfered with that I sup-
pose he did not immediately understand they
would never tackle him again.
It took a whole day for him to
realise this ; but as soon as he did
understand it he seemed to make up
his mind that now his turn had come,
and he went for the first puppy he
50
JOCK'S SCHOOLDAYS 51
saw with a bone. He walked up slowly and carefully,
and began to make a circle round him. When he got
about half-way round the puppy took up the bone and
trotted off ; but Jock headed him off at once, and
again began to walk towards him very slowly and stiffly.
The other puppy stood quite still for a moment, and
then Jock's fierce determined look was too much for
him : he dropped the bone and bolted.
There was mighty little but smell on those bones,
for we gave the puppies very little meat, so when
Jock had taken what he could off this one, he started
on another hunt. A few yards away Billy's pup was
having a glorious time, struggling with a big bone
and growling all the while as if he wanted to let the
world know that it was as much as any one's life was
worth to come near him. None of us thought Jock
would tackle him, as Billy's pup was still a long way
the biggest and strongest of the puppies, and always
ready to bully the others.
Jock wras about three or four yards away when he
caught sight of Billy's pup, and for about a minute
he stood still and quietly watched. At first he seemed
surprised, and then interested, and then gradually he
stiffened up all over in that funny way of his ; and
when the hair on his shoulders was all on end and
his ears and tail were properly up, he moved forward
very deliberately. In this fashion he made a circle
round Billy's pup, keeping about two feet away from
him, walking infinitely slowly and glaring steadily at
the enemy out of the corners of his eyes ; and
while he was doing this, the other fellow was
tearing away at his bone, growling furiously
and glaring sideways at Jock. When the
circle was finished they stood once more face
to face ; and then after a short pause _
Jock began to move ^
in closer, but more 2
slowly even than
before.
52 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
Billy's pup did not like this : it was
beginning to look serious. He could not
keep on eating and at the same time watch
Jock; moreover, there was such a very un-
pleasant wicked look about Jock, and he
moved so steadily and silently forward, that
any one would feel a bit creepy and nervous ;
so he put his paw on the bone and let out a
string of snarly barks, with his ears flat on his
neck and his tail rather low down. But Jock
still came on — a little more carefully and slowly
perhaps, but just as steadily as ever. When about
a foot off the enemy's nose he changed his direction
slightly, as if to walk past, and Billy's pup turned
his head to watch him, keeping his nose pointed
towards Jock's, but when they got side by side he
again looked straight in front of him.
Perhaps he did this to make sure the bone was still
there, or perhaps to show his contempt when he
thought Jock was going off. Whatever the reason
was, it was a mistake ; for, as he turned his head
away, Jock flew at him, got a good mouthful of ear,
.and in no time they were rolling and struggling in
the dust — Jock's little grunts barely audible in the
noise made by the other one. Billy's pup was big and
strong, and he was not a coward ; but Jock was worry-
ing his ear vigorously, and he could not find any-
thing to bite in return. In less than a minute he
began to howl, and was making frantic efforts to get
away. Then Jock let go the ear and tackled the bone.
After that he had no more puppy fights. As soon
as any one of the others saw Jock begin to walk slowly
and carefully towards him he seemed to suddenly get
tired of his bone, and moved off.
One by one the other puppies were taken away by
their new masters, and before Jock was three months
old he and Jess were the only dogs with the waggons.
Then he went to school, and like all schoolboys learnt
some things very quickly — the things that he liked ;
JOCK'S SCHOOLDAYS
53
and some things he learnt very slowly, and hated
them just as a boy hates extra work in play-time.
When I poked about with a stick in the banks of
dongas to turn out mice and field-rats for him, or
when I hid a partridge or a hare and made him find
it, he was as happy as could be ; but when I made
him lie down and watch my gun or coat while I pre-
tended to go off and leave him, he did not like it ;
and as for his lessons in manners ! well, he simply
hated them.
There are some things which a dog in that sort of
life simply must learn or you cannot keep him ; and
the first of these is, not to steal. Every puppy will
help himself until he is taught not to ; and your dog
lives with you and can get at everything. At the
outspans the grub-box is put on the ground, open for
each man to help himself ; if you make a stew, or
roast the leg of a buck, the big three-legged pot is
put down handy and left there ; if you are lucky
enough to have some tinned butter or condensed milk,
the tins are opened and stood on the ground ; and if
you have a dog thief in the camp, nothing is safe.
I taught Jock not to touch food in camp until he
was told to ' take it.' The lesson began when he got
his saucer of porridge in the morning ; and he must
have thought it cruel to have that put in front of
him, and then to be held back or tapped with a finger
on the nose each time he tried to dive into it. At
first he struggled and fought to get at it ; then he
tried to back away and dodge round the other side ;
then he became dazed, and, thinking it was not for
him at all, wanted
to walk off and have
nothing more to do
with it. In a few
days, however, I got
him to lie still and
take it only when
I patted him and
54
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
pushed him towards it ; and in a very little time he got
on so well that I could put his food down without saying
anything and let him wait for permission. He would
lie down with his head on his paws and his nose right
up against the saucer, so as to lose no time when the
order came ; but he would not touch it until he heard
* Take it.' He never moved his head, but his little
browny dark eyes, full of childlike eagerness, used to
be turned up sideways and fixed on mine. I believe
he watched my lips ; he was so quick to obey the
order when it came.
When he grew up and had learned his lessons there
was no need for these exercises. He got to under-
stand me so well that if I nodded or moved my hand
in a way that meant ' all right,' he would go ahead :
by that time too he was dignified and patient ; and
it was only in his puppyhood that he used to crouch
up close to his food and tremble with impatience and
excitement.
Good feeding, good care, and plenty of
exercise soon began to make a great
change in Jock. He ceased to look like
a beetle — grew bigger everywhere, not
f« only in one part as he had done at first ;
his neck grew thick and strong, and his
legs straightened up and filled out with
muscle. The others, seeing him every
day, were slow to notice these things, but
my sand had been changed into gold
long ago, and they always said I could
not see anything wrong in Jock.
There was one other change which
slowly and seemed to
me much
r;>c> more won-
d e r f u 1.
After his
morning
feed, if
JOCK'S SCHOOLDAYS
55
there was nothing to
do, he used to go to
sleep in some shady
place, and I remem-
ber well one day
watching him as he lay. His
bit of shade had moved away and
left him in the bright sunshine ; and as he breathed
and his ribs rose and fell, the tips of the hairs on
his side and back caught the sunlight and shone
like polished gold, and the wavy dark lines seemed
more distinct and darker, but still very soft. In
fact, I was astonished to see that in a certain light
Jock looked quite handsome. That was the first time
I noticed the change in colour ; and it made me re-
member two things. The first was what the other
fellows had said the day Billy gave up his pup, " You
can't tell how a puppy will turn out : even his colour
changes " ; and the second was a remark made by
an old hunter who had offered to buy
Jock — the real meaning of which I
did not understand at the time.
" The best dog I ever owned was
a golden brindle," said the old man
thoughtfully, after I had laughed at
the idea of selling my dog. I had
got so used to thinking that he was
only a faded wishy-washy edition of
Jess that the idea of his colour chang-
ing did not occur to me then, and I
never suspected that the old man
could see how he would turn
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
out ; but the touch of sunlight opened my eyes
that day, and after that whenever I looked
at Jock the words " golden brindle " came
back to my mind, and him I pictured
as he was going to be — and as he really
did grow up — having a coat like bur-
nished gold with soft, dark, wavy
brindles in it and that snow-white
V on his chest.
He learned a good deal from Jess :
among other things, that it was not necessary to
poke his nose up against a snake in order to find out
what it was. He knew that Jess would fight anything ;
and when one day he saw her back hair go up and
watched her sheer off the footpath wide into the grass,
he did the same ; and then when we had shot the
snake, both he and Jess came up very very cautiously
and sniffed at it, with every hair on their bodies
standing up.
He found out for himself that it was not a good idea
to turn a scorpion over with his paw. The vicious little
tail with a thorn in it whipped over the scorpion's back,
and Jock had such a foot that he must have thought
a scorpion worse than two waggons. He Avas a very
sick dog for some days ; but after that, whenever he
saw a thing that he did not understand, he would
watch it very carefully from a little way off and notice
what it did and what it looked like, before trying
experiments.
So, little by little, Jock got to understand plenty of
things that no town dog would ever know, and he
got to know — just as some people do — by what we
call instinct, whether a thing was
dangerous or safe, even though he
had never seen anything like
it before. That is how
he knew that wolves or
lions were about — and
that they were danger-
JOCK'S SCHOOLDAYS
57
ous — when he heard or scented them ; although he
had never seen, scented or heard one before to know
what sort of animal it might be. You may well wonder
how he could tell whether the scent or the cry belonged
to a wolf which he must avoid, or to a buck which
he might hunt, when he had never seen either a wolf
or a buck at the time ; but he did know ; and he
also knew that no dog could safely go outside the ring
of the camp fires when wolf or lion was about. I
have known many town-bred dogs that could scent
them just as well as Jess or Jock could, but having
no instinct of danger they went out to see what it
was, and of course they never came back.
I used to take Jock with me everywhere so that he
could learn everything that a hunting dog ought to
know, and above all things to learn that he was my
dog, and to understand all that I wanted to tell him.
So while he was still a puppy, whenever he stopped to
sniff at something new or to look at something strange,
I would show him what it was ; but if he stayed behind
to explore while I moved on, or if he fell
asleep and did not hear me get up from
where I had sat down to rest, or went
off the track on his own account, I used
to hide away from him on top of a rock
or up a tree and let him hunt about until
he found me.
At first he used to be quite excited
when he missed me, but after a little
time he got to know what to do and
would sniff along the ground and canter
away after me — always finding
5fc JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
quite easily. Even if I climbed a tree to hide from
him he would follow my track to the foot of the tree,
sniff up the trunk as far as he could reach standing
up against it, and then peer up into the branches. If
he could not see me from one place, he would try
another — always with his head tilted a bit on one side.
He never barked at these times ; but as soon as he saw
me, his ears would drop, his mouth open wide with the
red tongue lolling out, and the stump of a tail would
twiggle away to show how pleased he was. Sometimes
he would give a few little whimpery grunts : he hardly
ever barked ; when he did I knew there was some-
thing worth looking at.
Jock was not a quarrelsome dog,
and he was quick to learn and very
obedient, but in one connection I had
great difficulty with him for quite a
little time. He had a sort of private
war with the fowls; and it was due
to the same cause as his war with the
other puppies : they interfered with
him. Now, every one knows what a
fowl is like : it is impudent, in-
quisitive, selfish, always looking for
something to eat, and has no prin-
ciples.
The fowls tried to steal his food ;
and he would not stand it. His
way of dealing with them was not
good for their health : before I
could teach him
not to kill, and
before the fowls
would learn not
to steal, he had
finished half a
dozen of them
one after another
with just one bite and a
JOCK'S SCHOOLDAYS
shake. He would growl very low as they came
up and, without lifting his head from the plate,
watch them with his little eyes turning from soft
brown to shiny black ; and when they
came too near and tried to snatch just
one mouthful — well, one jump, one
shake, and it was all over.
In the end he learned to tumble them
over and scare their wits out without
hurting them ; and they learned to
give him a very wide berth.
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 Crocodile. 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 slowly with
the gentlest breeze and alternately showing their leaf
sheathed stems and crested tops, give the appearance
of an ever-changing sea of green and gold. Here and
60
THE FIRST HUNT
61
there a big rock, black and polished,
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, murmuring,
as it works its way along the rocky
channels ; sometimes near and loud,
sometimes faint and distant ; and some-
times, over long sandy reaches, there is
no sound at all.
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 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 crocodiles — 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 knoV 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 : no-
thing that rouses the feeling of horror and hatred as
it does : nothing that so surely and quickly gives
the sensation of ' creeps in the back ' as the noiseless
apparition of one in the water just where you least
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
^^
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 — 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.
ff i \ 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 Driver 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
THE FIRST HUNT
63
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 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.
I had started out this day with the
same old determination 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 j|j
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
64
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
*i
remember and had never tackled or even followed a
wounded buck, so 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,
'// f and evidently Jock agreed with me that the
duiker must be near, for he took no more
Y,/ notice of the guinea-fowl ; and I for my
*' part forgot all about crocodiles and sus-
picious-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
THE FIRST HUNT
65
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.
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 dis-
appeared into the bush Avith 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 thinking
F
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
that he had behaved badly and disgraced him-
self. But he was not to blame at all ; 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 inte-
rested 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, some-
thing else was happening. With eyes fixed on the
buck I did not notice that, in crawling along on all-
fours, 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 surprising. 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
THE FIRST HUNT
67
cheek left me blue for days ; and when my eyes were
clear enough to see anything the stembuck had dis-
appeared.
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, hah* 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 again : when the
buck rolled over everything else was
forgotten ! I knew the rule per-
fectly well — Reload at once and
68 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
never part with your gun. It was one of Rocky's lessons,
and only a few weeks before this, when out for an after-
noon'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
lie 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 some-
thing to learn at this game."
Unfortunately I did not remember when it would
have been useful. As I ran forward the duiker
tumbled, struggled and rolled over and over, then
got up and made a dash, only to dive head foremost
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 shoul-
der, and the
THE FIRST HUNT
69
broken leg was tripping it and bringing it down ; but,
in far less time than it takes to telt 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 excite-
ment 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 plough-
ing through the heavy sand far behind. Past the big
bush I sawr 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 fewr 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 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 togethe
kicking
struggling
cloud of dust
Time after
time the
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 re-
velation to me. 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 whenever 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,
THE FIRST HUNT
71
however, 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 fight 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 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
72 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 ho
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
harmlessly 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 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
whizzing 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
THE FIRST HUNT
73
was
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
consulting me as to whether it would
not be a good thing to have
another go in and make it
all safe.
He was just as happy
as a dog could be,
perhaps he was proud
the wound that left
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.
and
of
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 run to-
wards 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 contentment, 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, some-
74
IN THE HEART OF THE BUSH 75
thing 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 any-
thing 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 : no-
thing 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, with-
out being caught by him. His bright brown eyes were
everlastingly 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
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 any-
thing without risk of scaring the game, and I got
into the habit of making signs with my hand which
he understood 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
expectation 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,
76 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 : it will
generally tell you what his feelings are ; 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
IN THE HEART OF THE BUSH
77
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
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 Bushveld
gets lost some time or other — generally in the begin-
ning before he has learned to notice things. Some
have been lost for many days until they blundered
on to a track by accident or Mere 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 kno\v of,
a ring found inside a lion — told what had
occurred ; others have been lost and nothing
more ever heard of them.
The man who loses his head is really lost.
He cannot think, remember, reason, or under-
stand ; 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
roadwithout seeing
it is not the only
or the most extra-
ordinary example
78
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 shoot-
ing 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 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 hah* 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 occasional ring
on the ground told that it was not the
koodoo ; and soon afterwards I saw a
man on horseback. He was leaning
eagerly
forward
and thump-
ing the ex-
h auste d
horse with
IN THE HEART OF THE BUSH 79
his rifle and his heels to keep up its staggering gallop.
I looked about quickly to see what it was he was
chasing that 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 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 any-
thing.
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
80
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
two feet high and shady flat-topped thorn 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 con-
tentedly in a rumpled tarpaulin all through the night
treks and come up fresh as a daisy and full of
accumulated chat at the morning out span, 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 break-
fast 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 — with-
out 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 in the thorn bush ; there are
plenty of them to be found in the Bush veld
— 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-
IN THE HEART £F THE BUSH 81
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
disappearing for a few minutes in the bush and re-
appearing 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
thorns opposite, raise his gun very
deliberately, and fire into the top
of the trees.
82 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
" 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 fasci-
nated 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 shuffle
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 forgotten.
JOCK was lost twice : that is to say, he
was lost to me, and, as I thought, for
ever. It came about both 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 crack-
ing pace and are out of sight in no time, perhaps to
keep it up for miles, perhaps to drop dead within a
few minutes.
The great charm of Bush veld hunting is its variety :
you never knowr what will turn up next — the only
certainty being that it will not be what you are
expecting.
The herd-boy came in one afternoon to say that
there was a stembuck 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
84 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 confidence 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 sensi-
tive 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 move-
ment 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
JOCK'S NIGHT OUT
85
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 unconscious
of danger. The tree made a dead shot almost im-
possible, 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
bewilderment 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
— all except the wounded one, which
had turned off from the others. For all
the flurry and
confusion I
had notlost
sightof her,
and noting
her tucked-
up appear-
ance and
shortened
strides set
Jock on her
86
JOCK OF THE BUSH VELD
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 Ix-tran to
look serious. When it came to midnight, \\itli 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.
p^^lJfv •• ''iW^f^ir%^f;^
JOCK had learned one very clever trick in
pulling down wounded animals. It often
happens when you come 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 follow-
ing a rietbuck which I had wounded in this May.
He had made several tries at its nose and throat, 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 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
87
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 success-
fully several times, but so far only with
"t W/'MW ^e sma^er 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 depres-
sions 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 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
THE KOODOO BULL
89
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 overwhelming 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 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 prac-
tice among the smaller kinds will not ensure a steady
90 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 t \\ in •
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 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 again, 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
THE KOODOO BULL 91
on, struggling from time to time to wrench the breech
open.
Reaching the place where they had disappeared, I
sa\v with intense relief and excitement 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 quickness 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 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 ah1 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, interrupted and annoyed
92 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 one of the vicious flash-
ing 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, alternately
from one side and the other, as they raced along to-
gether. 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 move-
ment 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 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.
THE KOODOO BULL 93
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 in-
spired 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 ;
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
94
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 re-
treat 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, and nothing could
shake his hold. I had to keep at a
respectful distance, for the bull was
good for a furious charge, even with
hanging on, and eyed me in the
unpromising fashion whenever I at-
tempted 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 des-
perate run-
fight, and
P|rN right bravrly
lie fought it to
the end.
still
Jock
most
n
THE KOODOO BULL 95
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 car-
tridge 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 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.
90
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
I tried stick after stick for a ram-rod, but without
success ; 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 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 it? 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 \\Tenches 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.
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 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 moonlight 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 th^ 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 comments 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 scattered
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
97
98 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
immediately after there was a grunting noise, a crashing
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 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
something 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 moon-
lit 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 porcupine 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 swinging it round him, or,
of himself circling round it — perhaps that is the fairer
description, for the porcupine was much the heavier. He
PARADISE CAMP 99
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.
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
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 wTas 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. Fortu-
nately 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 Avould not touch food and could not he 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
100 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 wlu-n
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
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 TIGER AND BABOONS
OUR route lay along the side of the
spur, skirting the rocky backbone and
winding between occasional 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 dis-
appearing into the timbered depth of the ravine. We
sat still tc watch them come out on the opposite side
101
102 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 expres-
sion of terror — followed by roars, barks,
bellows and screams from scores of
voices in every key ; and the crackle of
breaking sticks and the rattle of stones
added to the medley of sound as the
baboons raced out of the wood and up 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 wre
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 for-
ward 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
"SCRAMBLING DOWX THE FACE CAME MORE AND MORE BABOONS'
THE TIGER AND BABOONS 103
us, with his fore-quarters slightly raised and his face
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, swarm-
ing 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
question turned
us cold. If
they had
gone after
the b
boons they
104
were as good as dead already — nothing
could save 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, watch-
ing 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 overlooking 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.
The three rifles cracked like one, and with a howl
of rage and pain the tiger shot out over the dogs' heads,
THE TIGER AND BABOONS
105
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.
Among the
THE summer slipped away — the full- M
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 !
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.
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
106
BUFFALO, BUSHFIRE AND WILD DOGS 107
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.
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,
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-
i
108 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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
conversation 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 "
from me would have brought him to a breathless stand-
still 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 follow-
ing, 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
BUFFALO, BUSHFIRE AND WILD DOGS 109
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.
Jock moved steadily along the
trodden track, sliding easily through
the grass or jumping softly and noiselessly over impedi-
ments, and we followed, looking ahead as far as the
winding course of the trail permitted.
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
notiing of immediate consequence, he moved on again
— rather more slowly, as it appeared to us. I looked
at Irancis'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
wer« 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
certiinty. Then Jock stopped, stopped in mid-stride,
not pth his nose up ranging for scent, but with head
creel, ears cocked, and tail poised — dead still : he was
looking at something.
WB had reached the end of the grass where the bush
and Irees of the mountain slope had choked it out, and
befoE us there was fairly thick bush mottled with
blaclj shadows and patches of bright sunlight in which
it wis most difficult to see anything. There we stood
like jtatues, the dog in front with the two men abreast
110 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
behind him, and all peering intently. Twice Jock
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 stand-
ing 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 knowing
that the other was looking for the herd and would
fire when he got a chance at one of the full-giown
animals.
My eyes were strained and burning from the intensity
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 into life for a stcond
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 'eady
to spring off in pursuit, looking back at me and wait-
ing for the word to go ; but at the sign of my -aisrd
hand, opened with palm towards him, he sulsided
BUFFALO, BUSHFIRE AND WILD DOGS 111
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' 11 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 expec-
tant watchful look smote me with another
memory — " It was my dawg ! "
A few yards from where the buffalo
had stood we picked up the blood spoor. •B2?
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
112 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 semicircle 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 gene-
rally 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 beast is able to
hide itself so effectually that it can charge from a
distance of a dozen yards on to those who are search-
ing 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
BUFFALO, BUSHFIRE AND WILD DOGS 113
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
paddock 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
protection, enabling him to hide at will.
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 cer-
tainties— 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
114 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 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 in-
tentions ; and when we recalled 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 ourselves as we crept along.
Well ! what he had done did not answer our ques-
BUFFALO, BUSHFIRE AND WILD DOGS 115
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, 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 pro-
bable 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.
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 com-
ment, paid no heed to it and passed on ; later we
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 that we
stopped to take note. Francis, who spoke Zulu like
116 JOCK OF THE BUSH VELD
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 perceptibly 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 :
" 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 —
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
BUFFALO, BUSHFIRE AND WILD DOGS 117
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 be-
tween 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 stam-
pede was in the very atmosphere. A few words of con-
sultation decided us, and we started to burn
a patch for standing room and protection.
The hot sun and strong wind had long eva-
porated 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
118 JOCK OF THE BUSH VELD
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 streteh
before us was a field of swaying flame. There was a
sudden roar and crackle, as of musketry, and the wrhole
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
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 impressions linked
up by flashes of unforgettable vividness. 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 impressions
are of the koodoo bull in front, with nose out-thrust,
eyes shut against the bush, and 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
BUFFALO, BUSHFIRE AND WILD DOGS 119
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, and turned patiently
aside — to walk round it !
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 for-
gotten ! 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
120 JOCK OF THE BUSH VELD
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
glowing 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
shifting 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 were flying past
all the time, and some struck us ; myriads of sparks
fell round and on us, burning numberless small holes
hi our clothing, and dotting blisters on our backs ;
great sheets of 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 tail 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 !
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 he 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.
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 off-saddle ;
Snowball was tethered in a patch of good grass, and
Jock and I were lying in the shade.
\Vhen 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,
121
122 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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
hi 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 Bush veld,
frequent rests being necessary ; 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 observa-
tions. 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 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 sur-
prisingly 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
JOCK'S MISTAKE
123
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 ' 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. Lock-
ing 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.
What 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 some-
thing quite ludicrous in it, and some-
thing perplexing 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 colour-
ings, threw me out ; and the effect of i{
being watched also told. Of course I
wanted to get a wildebeeste, but I
was conscious of the watching quagga I
all the time, and, for the life of me,
could not help constantly looking at
124 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 gallop-
ing feet.
I started off early next morning with the boys to
bring in the meat, and went on foot, giving Snowball
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 eastwards 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 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,
JOCK'S MISTAKE
125
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.
The old hat was leaky and
I had to grip the
rough - cut ventila-
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
tions 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 posi-
tion, 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 under-
stood ; 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 his course
he saw me coming, and this time he obeyed the call
and signal instantly, and with a limp air of disappoint-
ment 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 ' aU
JOCK'S MISTAKE 127
wrong,' but indeed there was excuse enough for him.
Nevertheless 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 watch-
ing 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 and
followed : he outpaced me and left me in a few strides.
The koodoo had gone along the right bank of the
donga 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.
UN JOCK OF THE BUSHVEU)
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 climbing
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 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
hah* 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
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 kaffir 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
JOCK'S MISTAKE 129
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 kaffir 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 ; 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 cir-
cumvent 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
130 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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
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
JOCK'S MISTAKE
131
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 slits left by Jock's fangs, he pro-
ceeded to cauterise them with the glowing
ends of sundry sticks wrhich 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 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 be-
tween 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,
132
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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
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
birds fell and he saw what the game was;
probably he was intelligently interested all
the time but considered 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, with-
out 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 per-
haps 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-
i
JOCK'S MISTAKE
133
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 could not have been more than
half. How many coveys had packed
there, and for what purpose, and whether
they came every evening, Avere 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 of
letting Jock into the water after things, as one never
134 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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
^Sj. 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 rdle 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 !
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 Bushveld — that
spell about middle-day ; and yet if one remains quiet,
there is generally something to see and something
JOCK'S MISTAKE
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 irregu-
larly 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 sometimes 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 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 on». I found half a dozen
more in the same place ; but it was -
some days before we discovered the
136
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 IK at
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
himself 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.
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 Dur-
ban steamer next morning.
The insect life was pro-
digious in its numbers and
variety ; and the birds, the
JOCK'S MISTAKE
137
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 illustra-
tion ; 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.
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.
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 hailstorm — 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 surprised to feel quite distinctly something like a
133
MONKEYS AND WILDEBEESTE 139
drop of rain strike my leg, and then another on
ray 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 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 ex-
citable ; quick to chattering anger and bursts of
hysterical passion, which are intensely comical, espe-
cially 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 milder kindred ; pitfalls,
L
140 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
nooses, whip-traps, fall-traps, foot-snares, drags, slip-
knots of all kinds, and tricks that I cannot now re-
member, were in his repertory ; but he disliked showing
his traps, and when told to explain he would hah* sulkily
show one of the common kind.
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 to a previ-
ously selected spot where he could get close up again
and watch.
The foremost monkey was already on the ground
MONKEYS AND WILDEBEESTE 141
when he got back arid others were hanging from low
branches or clinging to the stems, ready to drop or
retreat. Then began the grunts and careful timid
approaches, such as one sees in a party of children
hunting for the hidden ' ghost ' who is expected to
appear suddenly and chase them ; next, the chatter-
ing 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 communicated 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 re-
assuring 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 move-
ment, 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.
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 in-
stinctively
or i n a d-
vertently ;
142 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
the act requires a deliberate effort. So Jantje caught
his monkey, and flinging his ragged coat over the captive
sat down to make it safe. By pushing the monkey's
arm deeper 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 help-
less 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
MONKEYS AND WILDEBEESTE 143
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 romping
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 excitement 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 him-
self 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, 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 disappointment but greatly
to my relief ; for I was quite pumped from the romp
and laughter.
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 to get ahead and repeatedly
silenced and driven back by me in the few
hundred yards' walk to the river.
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 meaning-
less : but to the boys' trained ears it spoke clearly.
Jim pressed me downwards and we all squatted again.
144
THE OLD CROCODILE
145
" He is coming out on another sandbank," 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 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 motion-
less, 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 know-
ing that this must be
merely an optical de-
lusion caused by
staring too long, I
shut my eyes for
a minute. The ./"
146
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 warm-
big all his back. In the meantime the
waggon boys behind me had not stirred ;
on the opposite side 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 wras a very
sudden and dramatic effect, following on the long
silence.
Then the whole world seemed to burst into
indescribable 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
THE OLD CROCODILE 147
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 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 re-
appearances 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 ex-
cited 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 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
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
a thing ? Five minutes earlier I would have
answered very confidently for myself ; but tin re
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 enjoy-
ment 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 out-distanced 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.
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 excitement 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
£
THE OLD CROCODILE
149
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 bewildering, 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.
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 move-
ments by the shafts
that were never all
150 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
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 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 a few inches — over the
edge of the rock. The result was as complete a spill
as if one unthinkingly stepped backwards off a diving
board : I disappeared in deep water, with the know-
ledge that the crocodile would join me there in a few
seconds.
One never knows how these things are done or how
long they take : I was back on the rock — without the
rifle — and had the water out of my eyes in time to see
the crocodile roll helplessly by, six feet away, with Jock
behind making excited but ridiculously futile attempts
to get hold of the tail ; Jim — swimming, plunging
and blowing like a maddened hippo — formed the tail
of the procession, which was headed by my water-
logged hat floating heavily a yard or so in front of the
crocodile.
While a crowd of yelling niggers under the general-
ship of Jim were landing the crocodile, I had time
THE OLD CROCODILE 151
to do some diving, and managed to fish out mv
rifle.
My Sunday change was wasted. But we got the old
crocodile ; and that was something, after all.
ON the way to Lydenburg, not many treks
from Paradise Camp, we were outspanned
for the day. Those were the settled parts ;
on the hills and in the valleys about us
were the widely scattered workings of the
gold diggers or the white tents of occasional
prospectors.
The place was a well-known and much-
frequented public outspan, and a fair sized wayside store
marked its importance. After breakfast we went to the
store to ' swap ' news with the men on the spot and a
couple of horsemen who had off-saddled there.
There were several other houses of sorts ; they were
rough wattle and daub erections which were called
houses, as an acknowledgment of pretensions expressed
in the rectangular shape and corrugated iron roof. One
of these belonged to Seedling, the Field Cornet and only
official in the district. He was the petty local Justice
who was supposed to administer minor laws, collect
certain revenues and taxes, and issue passes. The
salary was nominal, but the position bristled with
opportunities for one who was not very particular ;
and the then occupant of the office seemed well enough
pleased with, the arrangement, whatever the public may
have thought of it.
He was neither popular nor trusted : many tales of
great harshness and injustice to the natives, and
of corruption and favouritism in dealing with the
whites, added to habitual drunkenness and uncertain
THE FIGHTING BABOON
temper, made a formidable tally in the
account against him ; he was also a
bully and a coward, and all knew it ; but
unfortunately he was the law — as it stood
for us !
We had forgotten Seedling, and were
hearing all about the new finds reported
from Barberton district, when one of the
waggon boys came running into the store
calling to me by my kaffir name and
shouting excitedly, " Baas, Baas ! come
quickly ! The baboon has got Jock : it
will kill him ! "
I had known all about the vicious brute,
and had often heard of Seedling's fiendish
delight in arranging fights or enticing dogs up to attack
it for the pleasure of seeing the beast kill the over-
matched dogs. The dog had no chance at all, for
the baboon remained out of reach in his house on
the pole as long as it chose, if the dog was too
big or the opening not a good one, and made its
rush when it would tell best. But apart from this
the baboon was an exceptionally big and powerful
one, and it is very doubtful if any dog could have
tackled it successfully in an open fight. The creature
was as clever as even a dog can be ; its enormous jaws
and teeth were quite equal to the biggest dog's, and it
had the advantage of four ' hands.' Its tactics in a
fight were quite simple and most effective : with its
front feet it caught the dog
by the ears or neck, holding
the head so that there was
no risk of being bitten, and
then gripping the body lower
down with the hind feet, it
tore lumps out of the
throat, breast, and stomach
— pushing with all four
feet and tearing with the
154 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
terrible teeth. The poor dogs were hopelessly out-
matched.
I did not see the beginning of Jock's encounter, but
the boys' stories pieced together told everything. It
appears that when Seedling left the store he went in
to his own hut and remained there some little time ; on
coming out again he strolled over to the baboon's pole
about half way between the two houses and began
teasing it, throwing pebbles at it to see it dodge and
duck behind the pole, and then flicking at it with the
sjambok, amused by its frightened and angry protests.
While he was doing this, Jock, who had followed me to
the store, strolled out again making his way towards
the waggons. He was not interested in our talk ; he
had twice been accidentally trodden on by men stepping
back as he lay stretched out on the floor behind them ;
and doubtless he felt that it was no place for him : his
deafness prevented him from hearing movements, except
such as caused vibration in the ground, and, poor old
fellow, he was always at a disadvantage in houses and
towns.
The baboon had then taken refuge in its box on top
of the pole to escape the sjambok, and when Seedling
saw Jock come out he commenced whistling and calling
softly to him. Jock, of course, heard nothing : he may
have responded mildly to the friendly overtures con-
veyed by the extended hand and
patting of legs, or more probably simply
\ took the nearest way to the waggon
where he might sleep in peace, since
there was nothing else to do. What
the boys agree on is that
as Jock passed the pole
Seedling patted and held
him, at the same time
calling the baboon, and
then gave the dog a pu-h
which did not quite roll
him over but upset his
THE FIGHTING BABOON 155
balance ; and Jock, recovering himself, naturally
jumped round and faced Seedling, standing almost
directly between him and the baboon. He could not
hear the rattle of the chain on the box and pole, and
saw nothing of the charging brute, and it was the
purest accident that the dog stood a few inches out of
reach. The baboon — chained by the neck instead of
the waist, because it used to bite through all loin straps
— made its rush, but the chain brought it up before its
hands could reach Jock and threw the hind-quarters
round with such force against him that he was sent
rolling yards away.
I can well believe that this second attack from a
different and wholly unexpected quarter thoroughly
roused him, and can picture how he turned to face it.
It was at this moment that Jim first noticed what was
going on. The other boys had not expected anything
when Seedling called the dog, and they were taken com-
pletely by surprise by what followed. Jim would have
known what to expect : his kraal was in the neighbour-
hood ; he knew Seedling well, and had already suffered
in fines and confiscations at his hands ; he also knew
about the baboon ; but he was ignorant, just as I was,
of the fact that Seedling had left his old place across the
river and come to live in the new hut, bringing his pet
with him.
It was the hoarse threatening shout of the baboon as
it jumped at Jock, as much as the exclamations of the
boys, that roused Jim. He knew instantly what was
on, and grabbing a stick made a dash to save the dog,
with the other boys following him.
When Jock was sent spinning in the dust the baboon
recovered itself first, and standing up on its hind legs
reached out its long ungainly arms towards him, and
let out a shout of defiance. Jock regaining his feet
dashed in, jumped aside, feinted again and again, as he
had learnt to do when big horns swished at him ; and
he kept out of reach just as he had done ever since the
duiker taught him the use of its hoofs. He knew what
156 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
to do, just as he had known how to swing the porcu-
pine : the dog — for all the fighting fury that possessed
him — took the measure of the chain and kept outside it.
Round and round he flew, darting in, jumping back,
snapping and dodging, but never getting right home.
The baboon was as clever as he was : at times it jumped
several feet in the air, straight up, in the hope that
Jock would run underneath ; at others, it would make
a sudden lunge with the long arms, or a more surprising
reach out with the hind legs to grab him. Then the
baboon began gradually to reduce its circle, leaving
behind it slack chain enough for a spring ; but Jock
was not to be drawn. In cleverness they were well-
matched — neither scored in attack ; neither made or
lost a point.
When Jim rushed up to save Jock, it was with eager
anxious shouts of the dog's name that warned Seedling
and made him turn ; and as the boy ran forward the
white man stepped out to stop him.
" Leave the dog alone ! " he shouted, pale with anger.
" Baas, Baas, the dog will be killed," Jim called
excitedly, as he tried to get round ; but the white man
made a jump towards him, and with a backhand slash
of the sjambok struck him across the face, shouting
at him again :
" Leave him, I tell you."
Jim jumped back, thrusting out his stick to guard
another vicious cut ; and so it went on with alternate
slash and guard, and the big Zulu danced round with
nimble bounds, guarding, dodging, or bearing the
sjambok cuts, to save the dog. Seedling was mad with
rage ; for who had ever heard of a nigger standing up
to a Field Cornet ? Still Jim would not give way ; he
kept trying to get in front of Jock, to head him off the
fight, and all the while shouting to the other boys to
call me. But Seedling was the Field Cornet, and not
one of them da^ed to move against him.
At last the baboon, finding that Jock would not come
on, tried other tactics ; it made a sudden retreat and,
THE FIGHTING BABOON
157
rushing for the pole, hid behind it as for protection.
Jock made a jump and the baboon leaped out to meet
him, but the dog stopped at the chain's limit, and the
baboon — just as in the first dash of all — overshot the
mark ; it was brought up by the jerk of the collar, and
for one second sprawled on its back. That was the
first chance for Jock, and he took it. With one spring
he was in ; his head shot between the baboon's hind
legs, and with his teeth buried in the soft stomach he
lay back and pulled — pulled for dear life, as he had
pulled and dragged on the legs of wounded game ;
tugged as he had tugged at the porcupine ; held on,
as he had held when the koodoo bull wrenched and
strained every bone and muscle in his body.
Then came the sudden turn ! As Jock fastened on
to the baboon, dragging the chain taut while the scream-
ing brute struggled on its back, Seedling stood for a
second irresolute, and then with a stride forward raised
his sjambok to strike the dog. That was too much for
Jim ; he made a spring in and grasping the raised
sjambok with his left hand held Seedling powerless,
while in his right the boy raised his stick on guard.
" Let him fight, Baas ! You said it ! Let the dog
fight ! " he panted, hoarse with excitement.
The white man, livid with fury, struggled and kicked,
but the wrist loop of his sjambok
held him prisoner and he could do
nothing.
That was the moment when a
panic-stricken boy plucked up courage
enough to call me ; and that was the
scene we saw as wre ran out of the
little shop. Jim would not strike
the white man ; but his face was a
muddy grey, and it was written there
that he would rather die than give
up the dog.
Before I reached them it was clear ^^
to us all what had happened : Jim
158 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
was protesting to Seedling and at the same time calling
to me ; it was a jumble, but a jumble eloquent for us,
and all intelligible. Jim's excited gabble was addressed
with reckless incoherence to Seedling, to me, and to
Jock!
" You threw him in ; you tried to kill him. He did
it. It was not the dog. Kill him, Jock, kill him.
Leave him, let him fight. You said it — Let him fight !
Kill him, Jock ! Kill! Kill! Kill!"
Then Seedling did the worst tiling possible ; he
turned on me with,
" Call off your dog, I tell you, or I'll shoot him and
your — — nigger too ! "
" We'll see about that ! They can fight it out now,"
and I took the sjambok from Jim's hand and cut it
from the white man's wrist.
" Now ! Stand back ! "
And he stood back.
The baboon wras quite helpless. Powerful as the
brute was, and formidable as were the arms and gripping
feet, it had no chance while Jock could keep his feet
and had strength to drag and hold the chain tight.
The collar was choking it, and the grip on the stomach
— the baboon's own favourite and most successful device
— was fatal.
I set my teeth, and thought of the poor helpless dogs
that had been decoyed in and treated the same way.
Jim danced about, the white seam of froth on his lips,
hoarse gusts of encouragement bursting from him as he
leant over Jock, and his whole body vibrating like an
over-heated boiler. And Jock hung on in grim earnest,
the silence on his side broken only by grunting efforts
as the deadly tug — tug — tug went on. Each pull
caused his feet to slip a little on the smooth worn
ground ; but each time he set them back again, and
the grunting tugs went on.
It was not justice to call Jock off ; but I did it. The
THE FIGHTING BABOON
159
cruel brute deserved killing, but the human look and
cries and behaviour of the baboon were too sickening ;
and Seedling went into his hut without even a look
at his stricken champion.
Jock stood off, with his mouth open from ear to ear
and his red tongue dangling, blood-stained and panting,
but with eager feet ever on the move shifting from spot
to spot, ears going back and forward, and eyes— now
on the baboon and now on me — pleading for the sign
to go in again.
Before evening the baboon was dead.
^^<fc?ip?^
WE had not touched fresh meat for many
days, as there had been no time for shoot-
ing ; but I knew that game was plentiful
across the river in the rough country be-
tween the Kaap and Crocodile, and I
started off to make the best of the day's delay, little
dreaming that it was to be the last time Jock and I
would hunt together.
Weeks had passed without a hunt, and Jock must
have thought there was a sad falling away on the part
of his master ; he no longer expected anything ; the
rifle was never taken down now except for an odd shot
from the outspan or to put some poor animal out of its
misery. Since the night with the lions, when he had
been ignominiously cooped up, there had been nothing
to stir his blood and make life worth living ; and this
morning as he saw me rise from breakfast and proceed
to potter about the waggons in the way he had come
to regard as inevitable, he looked on indifferently for a
few minutes and then stretched out full length in the
sun and went to sleep.
I could not take him with me across the river, as the
' fly ' was said to be bad there, and it was no place to
160
OUR LAST HUNT
161
risk horse or dog. The best of prospects would not
have tempted me to take chance with him, but I hated
ordering him to stay behind, as it hurt his dignity and
sense of comradeship, so it seemed a happy accident
that he was asleep and I could slip away unseen. As
the cattle were grazing along the river-bank only a few
hundred yards off, I took a turn that way to have a
look at them, with natural but quite fruitless concern
for their welfare, and a moment later met the herd- boy
running towards me and calling out excitedly some-
thing which I made out to be :
" Crocodile ! Crocodile, Inkos ! A crocodile has
taken one of the oxen." The waggon-boys heard it
also, and armed with assegais and sticks were on the
bank almost as soon as I was ; but there was no sign
of crocodile or bullock. The boy showed us the place
where the weakened animal had gone down to drink —
the hoof slides were plain enough — and told how, as it
drank, the long black coffin-head had appeared out of
the water. He described stolidly how the big jaws
had opened and gripped the bullock's nose ; how he,
a few yards away, had seen the struggle ; how he had
shouted and hurled his sticks and stones and tufts of
grass, and feinted to rush down at it ; and how, after
a muffled bellow and a weak staggering
effort to pull back, the poor beast had
slid out into the deep water and
disappeared. It seemed to be a
quite unnecessary addition to my
troubles : misfortunes were
coming thick and fast !
Half an hour was wasted
in watching and search-
ing ; but we saw no
more of crocodile or
bullock, and as there
162 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
was nothing to be done I turned up stream to find a
shallower and a safer crossing.
At best it was not pleasant : the water was waist-high
and racing in narrow channels between and over boulders
and loose slippery stones, and I was glad to get through
without a tumble and a swim.
The country was rough on the other side, and the
old grass was high and dense, for no one went there in
those days, and the grass stood unburnt from season
to season. Climbing over rocks and stony ground,
crunching dry sticks underfoot, and driving a path
through the rank tambookil grass, it seemed well-nigh
hopeless to look for a shot ; several times I heard buck
start up and dash off only a few yards away, and it
began to look as if the wiser course would be to turn
back. At last I got out of the valley into more level
and more open ground, and came out upon a ledge or
plateau a hundred yards or more wide, with a low ridge
of rocks and some thorns on the far side — quite a likely
spot. I searched the open ground from my cover, and
seeing nothing there crossed over to the rocks, thread-
ing my way silently between them and expecting to
find another clear space beyond. The snort of a buck
brought me to a standstill among the rocks, and as I
listened it was followed by another and another from
the same quarter, delivered at irregular intervals ; and
each snort was accompanied by the sound of trampling
feet, sometimes like stamps of anger and at other times
seemingly a hasty movement.
I had on several occasions interrupted fights between
angry rivals : once two splendid koodoo bulls were at
it ; a second time it was two sables, and the vicious and
incredibly swift sweep of the scimitar horns still lives
in memory, along with the wonderful nimbleness of the
other fellow who dodged it ; and another time they
were blue wildebeeste ; but some interruption had
occurred each time, and I had no more than a glimpse
of what might have been a rare scene to witness.
I was determined not to spoil it this time : no doubt
OUR LAST HUNT
it was a fight, and probably they were
fencing and circling for an opening, as
there was no bump of heads or clash of
horns and no tearing scramble of feet to
indicate the real struggle. I crept on
through the rocks and found before me a
tangle of thorns and dead wood, impossible
to pass through in silence ; it was better
to work back again and try the other side
of the rocks. The way was clearer there,
and I crept up to a rock four or five feet
high, feeling certain from the sound that
the fight would be in full view a few yards
beyond. With the rifle ready I raised
myself sloAvly until my eyes were over
the top of the rock. Some twenty yards off, in an
open flat of downtrodden grass, I saw a sable cow :
she was standing with feet firmly and widely planted,
looking fiercely in front of her, ducking her head in
threatening manner every few seconds, and giving
angry snorts ; and behind, and huddled up against her,
was her scared bewildered little red-brown calf.
It seems stupid not to have guessed what it all meant ;
yet the fact is that for the few remaining seconds I was
simply puzzled and fascinated by the behaviour of the
two sables. Then in the corner of my eye I saw, away
on my right, another red-brown thing come into the
open : it was Jock, casting about with nose to ground
for my trail which he had over-run at the point where
I had turned back near the deadwood on the other side
of the rocks.
What happened then was a matter of a second or
two. As I turned to look at him he raised his head,
bristled up all over, and made one jump forward ; then
a long low yellowish thing moved in the unbeaten grass
in front of the sable cow, raised its head sharply, and
looked full into my eyes ; and before I could move a
finger it shot away in one streak-like bound. A wild
shot at the lioness, as I jumped up full height ; a
164
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
shout at Jock to come back ; a scramble of black and
brown on my left ; and it was all over ; I was stand! ML'
in the open ground, breathless with excitement, and
Jock, a few yards off, with hind-legs crouched ready
for a dash, looking back at me for leave to go !
The spoor told the tale : there was the outer circle
made by the lioness in the grass, broken in places where
she had feinted to rush in and stopped before the
lowered horns ; and inside this there was the smaller
circle, a tangle of trampled grass and spoor, where the
brave mother had stood between her young and death.
Any attempt to follow the lioness after that would
have been waste of time. We struck off in a new
direction, and in crossing a stretch of level ground
where the thorn-trees were well scattered and the grass
fairly short my eye caught a movement in front that
brought me to instant standstill. It was as if the stem
of a young thorn-tree had suddenly waved itself and
settled back again, and it meant that some long-horned
buck, perhaps a koodoo or a sable bull, was lying down
and had swung his head ; and it meant also that he
was comfortably settled, quite unconscious of danger.
I marked and watched the spot,
or rather, the line, for
the glimpse was too brief
to tell more
than t h e
direction ;
but there
•was no
other move.
The air was
\l almost still, with
just a faint drift from
him to us, and I exanmird
every stick and branch,
every stump and ant-heap,
OUR LAST HUNT
165
every
But I
bush and tussock, without stirring a foot,
could make out nothing : I could trace no
outline and see no patch of colour, dark or light, to
betray him.
It was an incident very characteristic of Bushveld
hunting. There I stood minute after minute — not risk-
ing a move, which would be certain to reveal me —
staring and searching for some big animal lying half-
asleep within eighty yards of me on ground that you
would not call good cover for a rabbit. We were in
the sunlight : he lay somewhere beyond, where a few
scattered thorn-tree's threw dabs of shade, marbling
with dappled shade and light the already mottled sur-
face of earth and grass. I was hopelessly beaten, but
Jock could see him well enough ; he crouched beside
me with ears cocked, and his eyes, all ablaze, were fixed
intently on the spot, except for an occasional swift look
up to me to see what on earth was wrong and why the
shot did not come ; his hind-legs were tucked under
him and he was trembling with excitement. Only those
will realise it who have been through the tantalising
humiliating experience. There was nothing to be done
but wait, leaving the buck to make the first move.
And at last it came : there was another slight shake
of the horns, and the whole figure stood out in bold
relief. It
was a fine
sable bull
lying in the
shadow of
one of the thorn-
trees with his
back towards us,
and there was a
small ant-heap
close behind
him, making a
greyish blot
against his black
166
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
back and shoulder, and break-
ing the expanse of colour
which the eye would otherwise
easily have picked up.
The ant-heap made a cer-
tain shot impossible, so I
lowered myself slowly to the
ground to wait until he
should begin feeding or change
his position for comfort or
shade, as they often do :
this might mean waiting for
hah* an hour or more, but
it was better than risking
a shot in the position in
which he was lying. I settled
down for a long wait with
the rifle resting on my knees,
confidently expecting that when the time came to move
he would get up slowly, stretch himself, and have a
good look round. But he did nothing of the kind ; a
turn or eddy of the faint breeze must have given him
my wind ; for there was one twitch of the horns, as his
nose was laid to windward, and without an instant's
pause he dashed off. It was the quickest thing
imaginable in a big animal : it looked as though he
started racing from his lying position. The bush was
not close enough to save him, however, in spite of his
start, and through the thin veil of smoke I saw him
plunge and stumble, and then dash off again ; and
Jock seeing me give chase, went ahead and in half
a minute I was left well behind, but still in sight of
the hunt.
I shouted at Jock to come back, just as one murmurs
good-day to a passing friend in the din of traffic — from
force of habit : of course, he could hear nothing. It
was his first and only go at a sable ; he knew nothing
of the terrible horns and the deadly scythe-like sweep
that make the wounded sable so dangerous — even the
OUR LAST HUNT 167
lioness had fought shy of them — and great as was my
faith in him, the risk in this case was not one I would
have taken. There was nothing to do but follow. A
quarter of a mile on I drew closer up and found theta
standing face to face among the thorns. It was the
first of three or four stands ; the sable, with a watchful
eye on me, always moved on as I drew near enough to
shoot. The beautiful black and white bull stood facing
his little red enemy and the fence and play of feint and
thrust, guard and dodge, was wonderful to see. Not
once did either touch the other ; at Jock's least move-
ment the sable's head would go down with his nose into
his chest and the magnificent horns arched forward and
poised so as to strike either right or left, and if Jock
feinted a rush either way the scythe-sweep came with
lightning quickness, covering more than half a circle
and carrying the gleaming points with a swing right
over the sable's own back. Then he would advance
slowly and menacingly, with horns well forward, ready
to strike and eyes blazing through his eyebrows, driving
Jock before him.
There were three or four of these encounters in which
I could take no hand : the distance, the intervening
thorns and grass, and the quickness of their movements,
made a safe shot impossible ; and there \vas always
the risk of hitting Jock, for a hard run does not make
for good shooting. Each time as the sable drove him
back there would be a short vicious rush suddenly
following the first deliberate advance, and as Jock
scrambled back out of the way the bull \vould swing
round with incredible quickness and be off full gallop
in another direction. Evidently the final rush was a
manoeuvre to get Jock clear of his heels and flanks as
he started, and thus secure a lead for the next run.
Since the day he was kicked by the koodoo cow Jock
had never tackled an unbroken hind-leg ; a dangling
one he never missed ; but the lesson of the flying heels
had been too severe to be forgotten, and he never made
that mistake again. In this chase I saw him time after
N
168 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
time try at the sable's flanks and run up abreast of his
shoulder and make flying leaps at the throat ; but he
never got in front where the horns could reach him, and
although he passed and repassed behind to try on the
other side when he had failed at the one, and looked up
eagerly at the hind-legs as he passed them, he made
no attempt at them.
It must have been at the fourth or fifth stand that
Jock got through the guard at last. The sable was
badly wounded in the body and doubtless strength was
failing, but there was little evidence of this yet. In
the pauses Jock's tongue shot and slithered about, a
glittering red streak, but after short spells of panting,
his head would shut up with a snap like a steel trap and
his face set with that look of invincible resolution which
it got in part from the pursed-up mouth and in part
from the intensity of the beady black-brown eyes ; he
was good for hours of this sort of work.
This time the sable drove him back towards a big
thorn-tree. It may have been done without design, or
it may have been done with the idea of pinning him up
against the trunk. But Jock was not to be caught that
way ; in a fight he took in the whole field, behind as
well as in front — as he had shown the night the second
wild dog tackled him. On his side, too, there may or
may not have been design in backing towards the tree ;
who knows ? I thought that he scored, not by a
manoeuvre, but simply because of his unrelaxing watch-
fulness and his resolute unhesitating courage. He
seemed to know instinctively that the jump aside, so
safe with the straight-charging animals, was no game
to play against the side sweep of a sable's horns, and at
each charge of the enemy he had scrambled back out of
range without the least pretence of taking liberties.
This time the sable drove him steadily back towards
the tree, but in the last step, just as the bull made his
rush, Jock jumped past the tree and instead of
scrambling back out of reach as before, dodged round
and was in the rear of the buck before it could turn on
OUR LAST HUNT
169
him. There were no flying heels to fear then, and with-
out an instant's hesitation he fastened on one of the
hind-legs above the hock. With a snort of rage and
indignation the sable spun round and round, kicking
and plunging wildly and making vicious sweeps with
his horns ; but Jock, although swung about and shaken
like a rat, was out of reach and kept his grip. It was
a quick and furious struggle, in which I was altogether
forgotten, and as one more desperate plunge brought the
bull down in a struggling kicking heap with Jock com-
pletely hidden under him, I ran up and ended the fight.
-tr?
ALL that was left of the old life was
Jock ; and soon there was no place for
him. He could not always be with me;
and when left behind he was miserable,
leading a life that was utterly strange
to him, without interest and among
strangers. While I was in Barberton he
accompanied me everywhere, but — absurd
as it seems — there was a constant danger for him there,
greater though less glorious than those he faced so
lightly in the veld. His deafness, which passed almost
unnoticed and did not seem to handicap him at all in
the veld, became a serious danger in camp. For a long
time he had been unable to hear a sound, but he could
fed sounds : that is to say, he was quick to notice any-
thing that caused a vibration. In the early days of his
deafness I had been worried by the thought that he
would be run over while lying asleep near or under the
waggons, and the boys were always on the look-out to
stir him up ; but we soon found that this was not
necessary. At the first movement he would feel the
vibration and jump up. Jim realised this well enough,
for when wishing to direct his attention to strange dogs
or Shangaans, the villain could always dodge me by
170
OUR VARIOUS WAYS 171
stamping or hammering on the ground, and Jock always
looked up : he seemed to know the difference between
the sounds he could ignore, such as chopping wood, and
those that he ought to notice.
In camp — Barberton in those days was reckoned a
mining camp, and was always referred to as ' camp '-
the danger was due to the number of sounds. He
would stand behind me as I stopped in the street, and
sometimes lie down and snooze if the wait was a long
one ; and the poor old fellow must have thought it a
sad falling off, a weary monotonous change from the real
life of the veld. At first he was very watchful, and
every rumbling wheel or horse's footfall drew his alert
little eyes round to the danger point ; but the traffic
and noise were almost continuous and one sound ran
into another ; and thus he became careless or puzzled
and on several occasions had narrowly escaped being
run over or trodden on.
Once, in desperation after a bad scare, I tried chain-
ing him up, and although his injured reproachful look
hurt, it did not weaken me : I had hardened my heart
to do it, and it was for his own sake. At lunch-time he
was still squatting at the full length of the chain, off
the mat and straw, and with his head hanging in the
most hopeless dejected attitude one could imagine. It
was too much for me — the dog really felt it ; and wrhen
I released him there was no rejoicing in his freedom as
the hated collar and chain dropped off : he turned from
me without a sign or sound of any sort, and walking off
slowly, lay down some ten yards away with his head
resting on his paws ! He went to think — not to sleep.
I felt abominably guilty, and was conscious of want-
ing to make up for it all the afternoon.
Once I took him out to Fig Tree Creek fifteen miles
172
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
away, and left him with a prospector friend at whose
camp in the hills it seemed he would be much better
off and much happier. When I got back to Barberton
that night he was waiting for me, with a tag of chewed
rope hanging round his neck, not the
least ashamed of himself, but openly re-
joicing in the meeting and evidently
never doubting that I was equally
pleased. And he was quite right there.
But it could not go on. One day as he
lay asleep behind me, a loaded waggon
coming sharply round a corner as nearly
as possible passed over him. The wheel
was within inches of his back as he lay
asleep in the sand : there was no chance
to grab — it was a rush and a kick that
saved him ; and he rolled over under the
waggon, and found his own way out be-
tween the wheels.
A few days after this Ted passed
through Barberton, and I handed Jock
over to him, to keep and to care for
until I had a better and safer home
for him.
AND Jock ?
But I never saw my dog again. For
a year or so he lived something of the
old veld life, trekking and hunting ;
from time to time I heard of him from Ted and
others : stories seemed to gather easily about him as
they do about certain people, and many knew Jock
and were glad to bring news of him. The things they
thought wonderful and admirable made pleasant news
for them to tell and welcome news to me, and they were
heard with contented pride, but without surprise, as
" just like him " : there was nothing more to be said.
One day I received word from Ted that he was off
to Scotland for a few months and had left Jock with
another old friend, Tom Barnett — Tom, at whose store
under the Big Fig Tree, Seedling lies buried ; and
although I was glad that he had been left with a good
friend like Tom, who would care for him as well as any
one could, the life there was not of the kind to suit him.
For a few months it would not matter ; but I had no
idea of letting him end his days as a watch-dog at a
trader's store in the kaffir country. Tom's trouble was
with thieves ; for the natives about there were not a
good lot, and their dogs were worse. When Jock saw
173
174 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
or scented them, they had the poorest sort of luck or
chance : he fought to kill, and not as town dogs fight ;
he had learnt his work in a hard school, and he never
stopped or slackened until the work was done ; so his
fame soon spread and it brought Tom more peace than
he had enjoyed for many a day. Natives no longer
wandered at will into the reed-enclosed yard ; kaffir
dogs ceased to sneak into the store and through the
hcuse, stealing everything they could get. Jock took
up his place at the door, and hungry mongrels watched
him from a distance or sneaked up a little closer when
from time to time he trotted round to the yard at the
back of the building to see how things were going there.
All that was well enough during the day ; but the
trouble occurred at night. The kaffirs were too scared
to risk being caught by him, but the dogs from the
surrounding kraals prowled about after dark, scaveng-
ing and thieving where they could ; and what angered
Tom most of all was the killing of his fowls. The yard
at the back of the store was enclosed by a fence of
close-packed reeds, and in the middle of the yard stood
the fowl-house with a clear space of bare ground all
round it. On many occasions kaffir dogs had found
their way through the reed fence and killed fowls perch-
ing about the yard, and several times they had burgled
the fowl-house itself. In spite of Jock's presence and
reputation, this night robbing still continued, for while
he slept peacefully in front of the store, the robbers
would do their work at the back. Poor old fellow !
They were many and he was one ; they prowled night
and day, and he had to sleep sometimes ; they were
watchful and he was deaf ; so he had no chance at all
unless he saw or scented them.
There were two small windows looking out on to the
yard, but no door in the back of the building ; thus, in
order to get into the yard, it was necessary to go out
of the front door and round the side of the house. On
many occasions Tom, roused by the screaming of the
fowls, had seized his gun and run round to get a shot
HIS DUTY 175
at the thieves ; but the time so lost was enough for a
kaffir dog, and the noise made in opening the reed gate
gave ample warning of his coming.
The result was that Tom generally had all his trouble
for nothing ; but it was not always so. Several times
he roused Jock as he ran out, and invariably got some
satisfaction out of what followed ; once Jock caught
one of the thieves struggling to force a way through
the fence and held on to the hind leg until Tom came
up with the gun ; on other occasions he had caught
them in the yard ; on others, again, he had run them
down in the bush and finished it off there without
help or hindrance.
That was the kind of life to which Jock seemed to
have settled down.
He was then in the very prime of life, and I still
hoped to get him back to me some day to a home where
he would end his days in peace. Yet it seemed im-
possible to picture him in a life of ease and idleness —
a watch-dog in a house sleeping away his life on a mat,
his only excitement keeping off strange kaffirs and stray
dogs, or burrowing for rats and moles in a garden,
with old age, deafness, and infirmities growing year by
year to make his end miserable. I had often thought
that it might have been better had he died fighting —
hanging on with his indomitable pluck and tenacity,
tackling something with all the odds against him ; doing
his duty and his best as he had al ways done — and died
as Rocky's dog had died. If on that last day of our
hunting together he had got at the lioness, and gone
under in the hopeless fight ; if the sable bull had caught
and finished him with one of the scythe-like sweeps of
the scimitar horns ; if he could have died — like Nelson
— in the hour of victory ! Would it not have been
better for him — happier for me ? Often I thought so.
For to fade slowly away ; to lose his strength and fire
and intelligence ; to outlive his character, and no longer
be himself ! No, that could not be happiness !
Well, Jock is dead ! Jock, the innocent cause of
176
JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
Seedling's downfall and death, lies buried under the
same big fig-tree : the graves stand side by side. He
died, as he lived — true to his trust ; and this is how it
happened, as it was faithfully told to me :
It was a bright moonlight night — think of the scores
we had spent together, the mild glorious nights of the
Bushveld ! — and once more Tom was roused by a
clatter of falling boxes and the wild screams of fowls
in the yard. Only the night before the thieves had
beaten him again ; but this time he was determined to
be even with them. Jumping out of bed he opened the
little window looking out on to the fowl-house, and,
with his gun resting on the sill, waited for the thief.
He waited long and patiently ; and by-and-by the
screaming of the fowls subsided enough for him to
hear the gurgling and scratching about in the fowl-
house, and he settled down to a still longer watch ;
evidently the kaffir dog was enjoying his stolen meal
in there.
" Go on ! Finish it ! " Tom muttered grimly ; " I'll
have you this time if I wait till morning ! "
So he stood at the window waiting and watching,
until every sound had died away outside. He listened
intently : there was not a stir ; there was nothing to
be seen in the moonlit yard ; nothing to be heard ; not
even a breath of air to rustle the
leaves hi the big fig-tree.
Then, in the same dead stillness the
dim form of a dog appeared in the
doorway, stepped softly out of the
fowl-house, and stood in the deep
shadow of the little porch. Tom
lifted the gun slowly and took care-
j£s>.' ful aim. When the smoke
-TJ|| cleared away, the figure of the
rjpp- dog lay still, stretched out
on the ground where it had
stood; and Tom went back to
bed, satisfied.
HIS DUTY
The morning sun slanting across the yard shone
in Tom's eyes as he pushed the reed gate open and
made his way towards the fowl-house. Under the
porch, where the sunlight touched it, something
shone like burnished gold.
He was stretched on his side — it might have
been in sleep ; but on the snow-white chest there
was one red spot.
And inside the fowl-house lay the kaffir dog —
dead.
Jock had done his duty.
NOTE AND GLOSSARY
HAILSTORMS. — Bad hailstorms occur every year in South
Africa, but they do not last long (ten minutes is enough t<>
destroy everything that stands). The distances are immense,
and the area of disturbance is usually a narrow strip ; honci-,
except when one strikes a town, very few people ever witness
them. A bad storm baffles description. The size of the hail-
stones is only one of the factors — a strong wind enormously
increases the destructivcness ; yet some idea may be gathered
from the size of the stones. The writer took a plaster cast <>f
one picked up at Zuurfontein (near .Johannesburg), in November
1906, which measured 4£ inches long, 3£ wide and 1J inches
thick — a slab of white ice.
D means Dutch. N means native.
AASVOGEL (D), a vulture (lit. carrion bird).
ANTBEAR, AARDVARK (D) (Orycteropus Afer).
ANT-HEAP, mound made by termites or ' white ants.' Usually
formed by one colony of ants ; about two to four feet in
base diameter and height, but often in certain localities
very much larger.
ASSEGAI (pro. ass-e-guy) (N), native spear.
BAAS (D), master.
BANSELA (pro. baan-se'-la) (N), a present.
BEKER (pro. beaRer) (D), a cup.
BILLY, a small tin utensil with lid and handle, used for boiling
water.
BRET HARTE, an American author who wrote famous tales of
life in Californian mining camps.
BUCKSAIL, tarpaulin used for covering transport waggons, which
are known as buck-waggons.
BUFFALO, Cape buffalo. Height, 5 ft. 6 in. ; weight, possibly
1000 Ibs. ; horns, 48 in. from tip to tip and 36 in. each in
length on curve.
BULTONG, or BILTONG (pro. biltong) (D), meat cut in strips,
slightly salted, and dried in the open air.
BUSHBUCK, a medium-sized but very courageous antelope.
Height, 3 ft. ; weight, 130 Ibs. ; horns (male only), 18 in.
BUSHVELD, properly BOSCHVELD (D), bush country ; also called
Low Veld and Low Country.
CALABASH, a dried gourd for holding water.
CARICATTJHE, a mock or exaggerated imitation.
DASSIE (pro. daas-ey) (D), rock-rabbit ; coney (lit. little badger).
DEBRIS, rubbish or remains of any kind, no longer of use.
178
NOTE AND GLOSSARY 179
DELAGOA, a seaport on the East Coast, in Portuguese territory.
DISSELBOOM (D), the pole of a vehicle.
DONGA (N), a gully or dry watercourse with steep banks.
DOUGHBOYS, scones ; frequently unleavened dough baked in
coals ; also ash-cakes, roaster cookies, stick-in-the-gizzards,
veld-bricks, &c.
DRIFT (D), a ford.
DUIKER (pro. in Eng. dyker, in Dutch dayker) (D), a small
antelope found throughout Africa. Gross weight, 30 to
•AO Ibs. ; height, 28 in. ; horns, 5J in. (lit. diver, so culled
from its habit of disappearing and reappearing in low scrub
in a succession of bounds when it first starts running).
DURBAN, a port in Natal, south of Delagoa Bay.
FOSSICKING, feeling about with the hands.
GO'WAY BIRD, the grey plantain eater.
HARTEBEESTE (pro. haar-te-beast) (D), a large antelope, of which
there are several varieties, varying in gross weight from
300 to 500 Ibs. Height, 48 in. ; horns, 24 in.
HIGHVELD, properly HOOGEVELD (D), high country ; the plateau,
about 5000 to 6000 ft. above sea-level.
HONEY-BIRD, the honey guide.
HONEY-SUCKER, sunbird.
HORSE-SICKNESS, a lung affection prevalent during summer in
low-lying parts ; generally fatal ; caused by microbes intro-
duced in the blood by some insect.
IMPALA (N), an antelope ; habitat, Bushveld ; weight, 140 Ibs. ;
horns, up to 20 in., straight.
INDUNA (pro. in-do6-nah) (N), a head-man, captain, or chief,
great or petty.
INKOS (pro. in-kos — ' os ' as in verbose) (N), chief ; used as a
term of respect in address or salutation.
INSPAN, properly ENSPAN (D), to yoke up, harness up, or hitch up.
KAFFIR CORN, sorghum.
KAHLE (pro. kaa-shle, corrupted in kitchen Kaffir to ' gaashly ')
(N), gently, carefully, pleasantly, well. ' Hamba kahle, fare-
well, go in peace. Hlala (pro. shlala) kahle,' farewell,
stay in peace.
KEHLA (pro. keh-shlaa) (N), a native of certain age and position
entitled to wear the head ring. Dutch, ring kop — ring
head.
KERRIE, or KIRRIE, native sticks used for fighting, frequently
knobbed ; hence, knob-kerrie.
KUPSPHIXGER (r>), a small antelope, in appearance and habit
rather like chamois (lit. a rock-jumper).
KLOOF (D), a gorge.
iso JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
KNEEHALTER (D), to couple the head to one foreleg by a reim
or strap attached to the halter, closely enough to prevent
the animal from moving fast.
KNOORHAAN, commonly, but incorrectly, KOORHAAN or KORAAN,
(D), the smaller bustard.
KOODOO, properly KUDU (N). Habitat, rugged bushy country.
Height, 5 ft. ; weight, 600 Ibs. ; horns, up to 48 in. straight,
and 66 in. on curve.
KOPJE (pro. copy) (D), a hill (lit. a little head).
KRAAL (pro. in Eng. crawl) (D), an enclosure for cattle, sheep, &c.,
a corral ; also a collection of native huts, the home of a
family, the village of a chief or tribe.
KRANS (D), often spelt KRANTZ (German) (D. krana, a circlet or
crown), a precipitous face or coronet of rock on a hill or
mountain.
LAGAVAAN, a huge water lizard, the monitor. Maximum length
up to 8 ft.
LOOPER, round shot for fowling-piece, about four times the
size of buck-shot.
MEALIE, sweet Indian corn, the chief food of the Kaffirs.
MEERKAT (D), a small animal of the mongoose kind.
MIDDLE VELD, properly MIDDELVELD (D), the mixed country
lying between the Highveld and the Bushveld.
MIMETIC CREATURES, that hide from danger by imitating their
. surroundings, e.g. a caterpillar that stiffens itself so as to
look like a twig.
NEKSTROP (D), the neck-strap, or reim, which, attached to tho
yokeskeys, keeps the yoke in place.
Nix (D), nothing (from D. nieta).
ORIBI (N), a small antelope. Weight, 30 Ibs. ; height, 24 in, ;
horns, 6 in.
OUTSPAN, properly UITSPAN (D), to unyoke or unharness ; also
the camp where one has outspanned, and places where it is
customary, or by law permitted, to outspan.
PANDA, properly 'MPANDE (N), the third of the great Zulu kings.
PARTRIDGE, PHEASANT, names applied somewhat loosely to
various species of francolin.
PASSES, a written permission for a Kaffir to move from one
district to another.
PAUW (pro. pow) (D), the great bustard (lit. peacock).
PEZULU (N), on top, up, above.
PHONOGRAPH, an instrument for recording and reproducing
sounds.
POKER FLAT, ROARING CAMP, names of places in California
described by Bret Harte. Jack Hamlin and Yuba Bill
were men described by the same author.
NOTE AND GLOSSARY 181
POORT (pro. pooh-rt) (D), a gap or gorge in a range of hills (lit.
gate).
PROSPECTOR, a man who travels through a country in search
of metals, &c.
QUAGGA, zebra (correctly applied to Equua quagga, now extinct,
but still applied to the various species of zebra found in
South Africa).
REIM (pro. reem) (D), a stout strip of raw hide.
REIMPJE (pro. reempy) (D), a small reim.
RIETBUCK, properly (D) RIETBOK (pro. reet-buck), reed buck.
Height, 3 ft. 6 in. ; gross weight, 140 Ibs. ; horns, male
only, up to 16 in.
SABLE ANTELOPE. Habitat, Bushveld. Height, 4 ft. 6 in. ;
weight, 350 Ibs. ; horns, up to 48 in. on curve.
SAKUBONA (N), Zulu equivalent of ' Good day.'
SALTED HORSE, one which has. had horse-sickness, and is thus
considered immune (as in small-pox); hence 'salted' is
freely used colloquially as meaning acclimatised, tough,
hardened, &c.
SCHANS (pro. skaans) (D), a stone or earth breastwork for defence,
very common in old native wars.
SCHELM (D), a rascal ; like Scotch skellum.
SCHERM (pro. skarern) (D), a protection of bush or trees, usually
against wild animals.
SJAMBOK (pro. in English shambok, in Dutch saam-bok) (D), a
tapering raw-hide whip made from rhinoceros, hippopo-
tamus, or giraffe skin.
SKEY (pro. skay), a yokeskey ; short for Dutch jukskei.
SLOOT (D), a ditch.
SPAN (D), a team.
SPOOR (D), footprints ; also a trail of man, animal, or vehicle.
SPRINGBUCK, properly SPRINGBOK (D), a small antelope.
Habitat, Highveld and other open grass country. Height,
30 in. ; weight, up to 90 Ibs. ; horns, 19 in. (lit. jumping
buck).
SPRUIT (pro. sprait ; also commonly, but incorrectly, sproot)
(D), a stream.
STEMBUCK, a small antelope. Height, 22 in. ; weight, 25 Ibs. ;
horns, 5 in.
STOEP (pro. stoop) (D), a raised promenade or paved verandah
in front or at sides of a house.
TAMBUKI GRASS, also TAMBOOKIE, and sometimes TAMBUTI (N),
a very rank grass ; in places reaches 15 ft. high and stem
diameter | in.
TICK, or RHINOCEROS, BIRD, the ' ox-pecker.'
TIGER. In South Africa the leopard is generally called a tiger ;
first so described by the Dutch — tijger.
182 JOCK OF THE BUSHVELD
TOCK-TOCKIE, a slow-moving beetle, incapable of flight. Gets
its name from its means of signalling by rapping the
abdomen on the ground.
TREK (D) (lit. to pull), to move off or go on a journey ; a
journey, an expedition — e.g. the Great Trek (or exodus
of Boers from Cape Colony, 1836-48) ; also, and commonly,
the time, distance, or journey from one outspan to another.
TREK GEAR, the traction gear, chain, yokes, Ac., of a waggon.
The Boer pioneers had no chains, and used reims plait<-d
into a stout ' rope ' ; hence trek-touw, or pulling-rope.
TSESSEBE, an antelope, one of the hartebeeste family. Height,
48 in. ; weight, 300 Ibs. ; horns, 15 in.
TSETSE-FLY, a grey fly, little larger than the common house-
fly, whose bite is fatal to domesticated animals.
TWIOOLE, little people's word for the excited movement of a
small dog's tail, believed to be a combination of wriggle
and twiddle.
UMFAAN (N), a boy.
UMOANAAM (N), my friend.
UMLUNGU (N), the native word to describe a white man.
VELD (pro. felt) (D), the open or unoccupied country ; un-
cultivated or grazing land.
VLEI (pro. flay) (D), a small, shallow lake, a swamp, a depres-
sion intermittently damp, a water meadow.
VOORLOOPER (D) (lit. front walker), the leader, the boy who
leads the front oxen.
VOORSLAO (pro. foor-slaach) (D) (lit. front lash or skin), the
strip of buck hide which forms the fine end of a whip-lash.
WATERBUCK. Height, 48 in. ; weight, 350 Ibs. ; horns, males
only, 36 in.
WILD Doa, the ' Cape hunting dog.'
WILDEBEESTS (pro. vill-de-beast) (D) (lit. wild cattle), the
brindled gnu, blue wildebeeste. Height, 4 ft. 6 in. ; weight,
400 Ibs. ; horns, 30 in.
WOLF, the usual name for the hyena, derived from tijger-wolf,
the pure Dutch name for the spotted hyena.
WOODEN ORANGE, fruit of the klapper.
YOKESKEY, the wooden slat which, coupled by nekstrops, holds
the yoke in place.
Printed by BALLANTYNK, HANSON &• Co.
Edinburgh &• London
UCSB LIBKAKY.
A 000527418 8
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