CHAPTER SIX.
GIVES A FEW HINTS TO WOULD-BE HUNTERS, AND A FRIEND IN NEED ISINTRODUCED.
In describing the principal incidents of a long journey, it isimpossible to avoid crowding them together, so as to give a somewhatfalse impression of the expedition as a whole. The reader must notsuppose that our hunters were perpetually engaged in fierce and deadlyconflict with wild beasts and furious elements! Although travelling inAfrica involves a good deal more of this than is to be experienced inmost other parts of the world, it is not without its periods of calm andrepose. Neither must it be imagined that the hunters--whom hitherto wehave unavoidably exhibited in the light of men incapable of beingovercome either by fatigues or alarms--were always in robust health,ready at any moment to leap into the grasp of a lion or the jaws of acrocodile. Their life, on the whole, was checkered. Sometimes healthprevailed in the camp, and all went on well and heartily; so that theyfelt disposed to regard wagon-travelling--in the words of a writer ofgreat experience--as a prolonged system of picnicking, excellent for thehealth, and agreeable to those who are not over-fastidious abouttrifles, and who delight in being in the open air. At other times,especially when passing through unhealthy regions, some of their numberwere brought very low by severe illness, and others--even thestrongest--suffered from the depressing influence of a deadly climate.But they were all men of true pluck, who persevered through heat andcold, health and sickness, until, in two instances, death terminatedtheir career.
It may not be out of place here to make a few remarks for the benefit ofthose ardent spirits who feel desperately heroic and emulative whenreading at their own firesides, and who are tempted by descriptions ofadventure to set their hearts on going forth to "do and dare," as othershave done and dared before them! All men are not heroes, and in manycountries men may become average hunters without being particularlyheroic. In Norway, for instance, and in North America, any man ofordinary courage may become a Nimrod; and even heroes will haveopportunities afforded them of facing dangers of a sufficientlyappalling nature, if they choose to throw themselves in their way; butin Africa a man must be _really_ a hero if he would come off scathelessand with credit. We have proved this to some extent already, and moreproof is yet to come. The dangers that one encounters in hunting thereare not only very great and sufficiently numerous, but they areabsolutely unavoidable. The writer before quoted says on this point: "Ayoung sportsman, no matter how great among foxes, pheasants, and hounds,would do well to pause before resolving to brave fever for theexcitement of risking the terrific charge of the elephant. The step ofthat enormous brute when charging the hunter, though apparently notquick, is so long that the pace equals the speed of a good horse at acanter. Its trumpeting or screaming when infuriated is more like whatthe shriek of a French steam-whistle would be to a man standing on thedangerous part of a railroad than any other earthly sound. A horseunused to it will sometimes stand shivering instead of taking his riderout of danger. It has happened often that the poor animal's legs dotheir duty so badly that he falls and exposes his rider to be troddeninto a mummy; or losing his presence of mind, the rider may allow thehorse to dash under a tree, and crack his cranium against a branch. Asone charge of an elephant has often been enough to make embryo huntersbid a final adieu to the chase, incipient Nimrods would do well to trytheir nerves by standing on railways till the engines are within a fewyards of them, before going to Africa!"
Begging pardon for this digression, we return to our tale. While oursportsmen were advancing in company with the bullock-wagons one evening,at the close of a long and trying day, in which they had suffered a gooddeal from want of good water, they fell in with another party travellingin the opposite direction, and found that they belonged to the train ofa missionary who had been on an expedition into the interior.
They gladly availed themselves of the opportunity thus afforded ofencamping with a countryman, and called a halt for the night at a spotwhere a desert well existed.
As they sat round the fire that night, the missionary gave them someinteresting and useful information about the country and the habits ofthe animals, as well as the condition of the natives.
"Those who inhabit this region," said he, "have always been veryfriendly to us, and listen attentively to instruction conveyed to themin their own tongue. It is, however, difficult to give an idea to anEnglishman of the little effect produced by our teaching, because no onecan realise the degradation to which their minds have sunk by centuriesof barbarism and hard struggling for the necessaries of life. Like mostother savages, they listen with respect and attention to our talk; butwhen we kneel down and address an unseen Being, the position and the actoften appear to them so ridiculous, that they cannot refrain frombursting into uncontrollable laughter. After a short time, however,they get over this tendency. I was once present when a brothermissionary attempted to sing in the midst of a wild heathen tribe ofnatives who had no music in their composition, and the effect on therisible faculties of the audience was such that the tears actually randown their cheeks."
"Surely, if this be so," said Tom Brown, "it is scarcely worth yourwhile to incur so much labour, expense, and hardship for the sake ofresults so trifling."
"I have not spoken of results, but of beginnings," replied themissionary. "Where our efforts have been long-continued we have,through God's blessing, been successful, I sincerely believe, inbringing souls to the Saviour. Of the effects of long-continuedinstruction there can be no reasonable doubt, and a mere nominal beliefhas never been considered by any body of missionaries as a sufficientproof of conversion. True, our progress has been slow, and ourdifficulties have been great; but let me ask, my dear sir, has theslowness of your own journey to this point, and its great difficulty,damped your ardour or induced you to think it scarcely worth your whileto go on?"
"Certainly not," replied Tom; "I don't mean to give in yet. I confessthat our `bag' is not at present very large--nothing compared to whatsome sportsmen have had; but then if we persevere for a few months weare almost certain to succeed, whereas in your case the labour of manyyears seems to have been very much in vain."
"Not in vain," answered the other, "our influence has been powerfullyfelt, although the results are not obviously clear to every one whocasts a mere passing glance at us and our field of labour. But youspeak of persevering labour in hunting as being almost certain ofsuccess, whereas we missionaries are _absolutely_ certain of it, becausethe Word, which cannot err, tells us that our labour is not in vain inthe Lord, and, besides, even though we had no results at all to pointto, we have the command, from which, even if we would, we cannot escape,`Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature.'"
"Well, sir," said the major, with the air of a man who highly approvesof the philanthropic efforts of all men, so long as they do notinterfere with the even tenor of his own way, "I am sure that yourdisinterested labours merit the gratitude of all good men, and Iheartily wish you success. In the course of your remarks to-night youhave happened to mention that peculiar bird the ostrich. May I ask ifyou have seen many of late?"
The missionary smiled at this very obvious attempt to change the subjectof conversation, but readily fell in with the major's humour, andreplied--
"Oh yes, you will find plenty of them in the course of a few days, ifyou hold on the course you are going."
"Is it true that he goes at the pace of a railway locomotive?" askedWilkins.
"It is not possible," replied the missionary, laughing, "to give adirect answer to that question, inasmuch as the speed of the locomotivevaries."
"Well, say thirty miles an hour," said Wilkins.
"His pace is not far short of that," answered the other. "When walking,his step is about twenty-six inches long, but when terrified and forcedto run, his stride is from twelve to fourteen feet in length. Once Ihad a pretty fair opportunity of counting his rate of speed with astop-watch, and found that there were about thirty steps in ten seconds;this, taking his avera
ge stride at twelve feet, gives a speed oftwenty-six miles an hour. Generally speaking, one's eye can no morefollow the legs than it can the spokes of a carriage wheel in rapidmotion."
"I do hope we may succeed in falling in with one," observed the major.
"If you do there is not much chance of your shooting it," said themissionary.
"Why not?"
"Because he is so difficult to approach. Usually he feeds on some openspot where no one can approach him without being detected by his waryeye. However, you have this in your favour, that his stupidity issuperior to his extreme caution. If a wagon should chance to move alongfar to windward of him, he evidently thinks it is trying to circumventhim, for instead of making off to leeward, as he might easily do, herushes up to windward with the intention of passing _ahead_ of thewagon, and sometimes passes so near the front oxen that one may get ashot at the silly thing. I have seen this stupidity of his takenadvantage of when he was feeding in a valley open at both ends. Anumber of men would commence running as if to cut off his retreat fromthe end through which the wind came, and although he had the wholecountry hundreds of miles before him by going to the other end, herushed madly on to get past the men, and so was speared, for it is oneof his peculiarities that he never swerves from the course he has onceadopted, but rushes wildly and blindly forward, anxious only to increasehis speed. Sometimes a horseman may succeed in killing him by cuttingacross his undeviating course. It is interesting to notice aresemblance between this huge bird and our English wild duck or plover.I have several times seen newly-hatched young in charge of acock-ostrich who made a very good attempt at appearing lame in order todraw off the attention of pursuers. The young squat down and remainimmoveable, when too small to run far, but they attain a wonderfuldegree of speed when about the size of common fowls. It requires theutmost address of the bushmen, creeping for miles on their stomach, tostalk them successfully; yet the quantity of feathers collected annuallyshows that the numbers slain must be considerable, as each bird has onlya few feathers in the wings and tail."
"Well," observed the major, shaking the ashes out of his pipe, "youraccount of the bird makes me hope that we shall fall in with him beforeour expedition is over."
"Do you mean to be out long?"
"As long as we can manage, which will be a considerable time," answeredthe major, "because we are well supplied with everything, except, Iregret to say, medicine. The fact is that none of us thought much aboutthat, for we have always been in such a robust state of health that wehave scarce believed in the possibility of our being knocked down; butthe first few weeks of our journey hither taught some of us a lessonwhen too late."
"Ah, we are often taught lessons when too late," said the missionary;"however, it is not too late on this occasion, for I am happy to saythat I can supply you with all the physic you require."
The major expressed much gratification on hearing this, and indeed hefelt it, for the country into which they were about to penetrate wassaid to be rather unhealthy.
"You are very kind, sir," he said; "my companions and I shall feeldeeply indebted to you for this opportune assistance."
"Are you quite sure," asked the missionary pointedly, "that you aresupplied with everything else that you require?"
"I think so," replied the major. "Let me see--yes, I don't know that weneed anything more, now that you have so kindly offered to supply uswith physic, which I had always held, up to the period of my residencein Africa, was fit only to be thrown to the dog."
The missionary looked earnestly in the major's face, and said--
"Excuse me, sir, have you got a Bible?"
"Well--a--really, my dear sir," he replied, somewhat confusedly, "I mustconfess that I have not. The fact is, that it is somewhat inconvenientto carry books in such regions, and I did not think of bringing a Bible.Perhaps some one of our party may have one, however."
None of the party replied to the major's look except Tom Brown, whoquietly said--
"There is one, I believe, in the bottom of my trunk; one of my sisterstold me she put it there, but I cannot say positively that I have seenit."
"Will you accept of one?" said the missionary, rising; "we start at anearly hour in the morning, and before going I would like to remind you,gentlemen, that eternity is near--nearer perchance than we suppose tosome of us, and that medicine is required for the soul even more thanfor the body. Jesus Christ, the great Physician, will teach you how touse it, if you will seek advice from himself. I feel assured that youwill not take this parting word ill. Good night, gentlemen. I willgive the drugs to your guide before leaving, and pray that God mayprosper you in your way and give you success."
There was a long silence round the camp-fire after the missionary hadleft. When night closed in, and the sportsmen had retired to rest, theminds of most of them dwelt somewhat seriously on the great truth whichhe had stated--that medicine is needed not only for the body but thesoul.