*Chapter VIII.*
*THE ELEPHANT COUNTRY.*
"It's a bad job," said Mr. Blakeney, after hearing the news, "but itmight have been worse. The pony is a loss, it is true; but I'm heartilyglad you got through with so little damage, Guy. The fact is, I neverimagined we were going to encounter rhinoceros so soon. I should neverhave forgiven myself if anything had happened to you. You must gosteady, my lad, and don't be too adventurous. And in future, as we arelikely to tackle rhinoceros and elephant, it will be better to havealways in reserve a heavier gun, the double .500 or the eight-bore'Paradox,' for a second shot. Poeskop, or whoever is with you two boysas after-rider, can carry it for you. Few beasts, not even rhinos, orelephant, or buffalo, can stand up against the smashing blow dealt bysuch a bullet. Still, these are heavy guns, and kick a good bit, andyou needn't use them except in case of emergency, to turn a charge orstagger an animal at close quarters." As for Tom, he was so muchoverjoyed by Guy's supreme feat in slaying a rhinoceros, that he felt hewould gladly have accepted the risk of that adventure, even to theextent of being tossed bodily into the air--horse, foot, and artillery.
The wagon came along presently, and they loaded up the trophies, andsome meat from the buffalo and rhinoceros. Then they moved across theplain, making a long trek far into the evening before they outspannedfor the night. Next day, after a rather restless and uncomfortablenight, Guy felt far too stiff and sore from his fall to sit a horse. Heremained with the wagon, therefore, taking things easily, and amusinghimself by skinning half a dozen birds which Tom and Mr. Blakeney hadrecently shot. These included several very interesting species. First,there was a most lovely roller, a bird usually known to South Africancolonists as a blue jay. This, as Guy discovered by looking up thespecies in "Layard's Birds of South Africa," a most valuable book forthe bird collector, turned out to be the lilac-breasted roller(_Coracias caudata_), a bird more than ordinarily remarkable, even in acountry thronging with brilliant birds, for the beauties of its plumage.The upper colouring was a ferruginous green, the reddish hue showingmost strongly on the back; the under parts were pale, bluish green, aswere the tail feathers; the rump was bright blue, the lilac breasttouched with streaks of white and rufous, the forehead and chin buff.At each outer edge of the blue-green tail feathers there extended asingle long feather of dark, blackish green. These are much soughtafter by certain native chiefs, of whom one was the redoubtedMoselikatse, father of Lobengula, king of the Matabele. For this reasonthis roller is known as Moselikatse's bird.
Having finished with this handsome species, which is about the size ofour English jay, Guy took next in hand a perfect little gem of afeathered creature--one of the curious bee-eaters, known to naturalistsas _Merops bullockoides_. The upper colouring of this diminutive birdwas a light green, the rump and vent blue, the throat a brilliantscarlet, the front, chin, and moustache white, with a greenish tint.The back of the head was rufous. These tiny creatures, which in thewonders of their colouring remind their captors of the glorioushumming-birds, take their names from their family habit of devouringbees. They have longish bills, and, seizing the bee deftly across thebody, give it a sharp squeeze and swallow it. There are various kindsto be found in Africa, all distinguished by most beautiful colouring.One species, the European bee-eater (_Merops apiaster_), passes to andfro between South Africa and South Europe. In the former country itexists largely on a red wasp, of which it seems particularly fond. Allthese little creatures, none of which measure more than eight or teninches in length, including a tail of four to five and a half inches,are fond of water, and are often to be seen flitting after their preyover some deep river pool or quiet lagoon.
Having carefully divested the bee-eater of its skin and rubbed in apreservative powder known as taxidermine, the young collector put itbeside the other to dry. Guy, while at school, had been a fair amateurbird-skinner, even with no more aid than the small blade of hispocket-knife. Before leaving England he had bought a small case ofinstruments at Rowland Ward's in Piccadilly, for the more carefulmanipulation of skins. He had also procured at the same place anexcellent book, known as "The Sportsman's Handbook to PracticalCollecting," which gave him all sorts of useful information on thepreparing and setting up of skins, from birds and small mammals to thebiggest of big game. By the aid of this book he was able to settle atonce the sex of the bird he skinned, a matter of much importance to allcollectors. In addition to these birds, he skinned and prepared anAngola kingfisher; a rufous-necked falcon (_Falco ruficollis_); a redand black weaver-bird (_Ploceus oryx_), a very handsome species, seennear the river in large numbers; and a pink-billed lark. To all ofthese skins, after having got them ready, Guy affixed a label with shortparticulars, showing the species, sex, and when and where they wereshot.
Towards four o'clock Mr. Blakeney and Tom returned to the wagon. Theyhad had an excellent day's sport, and Tom was in a state of highexultation, having run down and shot a fine gemsbuck cow, carrying asplendid pair of horns, measuring no less than thirty-eight and a halfinches in length. Mr. Blakeney had secured from the same troop a goodbull. It is a somewhat remarkable fact that the females of these grandantelopes carry longer and finer horns than do the males. In mostspecies of African antelopes the converse is the case; and in manyspecimens, such as the water-bucks, the koodoo, the reedbuck, steinbuck,klipspringer, and others, the females are hornless.
In two days' time Guy had recovered from his toss by the rhinoceros, andwas longing to be in the saddle again. They had reached the secondrange of mountains, and, after a long and hard day of trekking up anddown hill, had surmounted the pass by which Poeskop guided them, andoutspanned on the farther side. The spoor of elephants had been foundnear this camp, and next day was to be devoted to a hunt, if the partycould come up with a herd. Poeskop alleged that this country was fullof "oliphant," as he called them in Boer Dutch, and attributed theirplenty to the growth of a favourite tree, the machabel, which grew inthis locality.
After much discussion it was settled that they should hunt on foot. Theponies wanted a rest, and, to the uninitiated, shooting elephants fromthe saddle is not an easy matter. Moreover, so far as they knew, noneof their nags had ever been in pursuit of these animals, and it was byno means certain that they would behave properly in the presence of suchformidable beasts of chase. At dawn next morning they had breakfastedand were away. Mr. Blakeney carried his .500 express, a weapon powerfulenough, with solid bullets, to account for the heaviest game. Tom, whowas to accompany his father so soon as the hunt began, was armed with adouble Africander rifle, carrying Martini-Henry bullets. Guy was armedwith a .303, in which his uncle had a good deal of confidence; butPoeskop, who was to accompany him, carried the Paradox eight-bore incase of necessity. The Bushman had the strictest injunctions to stickclose to his young master, and to hand the spare rifle instantly in caseof a charge. All were clad in their lightest kit. They anticipatedmuch walking, and probably a good deal of running. They wore,therefore, no more than flannel shirts, old breeches or flannels cutdown to the knees, and velschoens. Their legs and arms were bare, theirheads protected by the usual broad-brimmed felt hats. Poeskop appearedin nothing but an old shirt and a pair of velschoens. An odd littlefigure he cut, indeed, loaded as he was with the weight of a heavyrifle. The Bushman stepped out briskly, however, and by the end of theday his masters were fain to confess that, in spite of severe exertions,he was as fresh and as fit as any of them.
For three miles Poeskop conducted the little party along the lower slopeof the mountain. Finding the spoor he expected, he led them at a rapidwalk, with an occasional jog trot, on the tracks of the gigantic game.They descended to the level ground; and presently, after another hourhad elapsed, the Bushman whispered that they were approaching the troop.They were now in a fairly level piece of country, the open parts of itconsisting of grass veldt. There was a good deal of timber and bush.On the whole, the veldt seemed favourable for hunting:
it was not tooopen, and in case of pursuing or charging elephants, as Mr. Blakeney hadcarefully explained to the two lads, there were plenty of opportunitiesfor dodging behind bush and tree-trunks, and so evading a charge.
The wind was light. Poeskop picked up a handful of dry sand and let itrun through his fingers. The direction was all right, and the fallingsand was puffed gently towards them. On they went, now stepping withthe greatest caution so as not to break a twig or make any kind ofunnecessary noise. Now they crossed the bed of a dry streamlet,negotiated some more bush and timber, and then suddenly, in a greatopening of the forest, dotted here and there with islets of heavyishbush, came upon the herd. It was a wonderful spectacle. Sixty orseventy elephants, big and little, but most of them full-grown bulls andcows, were shambling slowly along; some plucking at clumps of bush, sometearing at branches of trees; two or three, with their huge gleamingtusks, stripping the bark from some good-sized timber and conveying itto their mouths. One or two great cows were caressing with their trunkssome half-grown babies that moved alongside them.
With a motion of his hand Mr. Blakeney signified that he and Tom wouldtake a big bull that was engaged in stripping a tree of its bark. Guynodded, and indicating that he would go farther up the herd for hisshot, turned back into the shelter of the forest and ran swiftly along.As he ran he heard the loud report of two barrels from his uncle'srifle; then Tom's Martini rattled out twice. In an instant the forest,but a moment before so silent and so peaceful--for the elephant moveswith singularly noiseless tread--was in an uproar. Wild trumpetingsconveyed the danger signal from one to another. The great beasts massedmore closely together and moved on. Yet, at present, they were no morethan walking quickly. They had not broken into a run.
Guy skirted the glade, and reached the point he had aimed at just in thevery nick of time. As he crouched behind a patch of bush the troop cameright past him, within fifteen yards. He let two or three cows andcalves go by, and then, as a huge bull with immensely long tusksshuffled up, looking, as Guy thought, like some gigantic mammoth of theprimeval world, the lad knew that the supreme moment had come. Raisinghis .303 very gently, he took aim for that part of the great beast'sskull which lies between the eye and the orifice of the ear, and letdrive. To his immense astonishment the mighty beast went down like ashot rabbit. The tiny sporting bullet had pierced the brain, and theelephant never moved again. Full of confidence now, Guy rapidly workedanother cartridge into the breech, and seeing that a bevy of bigelephants, which were following hard upon the great bull, had swerved tothe right, he left his concealment and ran in after them. Picking outthe best bull he could see, he ranged up within twenty paces, and, notbeing able to get the head shot, fired for the shoulder.
This time the result was nothing like so encouraging. The great brutewheeled round with astonishing quickness, and with a trumpet thatsounded to Guy like the scream of a dozen railway engines rolled intoone, charged instantly. There was nothing for it but flight; and goodrunner as Guy was, he always said afterwards that never had he sprintedso fast as he did over the fifty yards of open ground across which thewounded bull now chased him. Poeskop, who was twenty or thirty yardsbehind as Guy fired, had turned short as the beast turned, and doubledback into some bush, and for the present was safe; but Guy, with theelephant following upon his heels, trumpeting wickedly as it ran, feltthat he was in a very tight place indeed. Nearer and nearer came thegreat brute. The lad felt that each moment the monster's trunk wouldcome slipping round his waist. A clump of trees and some bush stoodjust before him. How he accomplished it he never quite knew; but hereached the shelter, dodged round a tree like a rabbit, slipped behindsome bush, and crouched close to the earth. As he expected, theelephant thundered on; and before it could check its impetus and turn,Guy had crept farther away.
But the bull had by no means yet done with him. It turned short in itstracks so soon as it had pulled up, and, with ears held at right anglesto its head, looking, as Guy in his place of concealment thought tohimself, for all the world like a pair of mighty sails hoisted to thebreeze, and its trunk searching the air closely for the scent of itsenemies, trotted quickly back. If by chance the beast got his wind, Guyknew quite well that he would have to sustain another charge, and themonster would be on top of him. Suddenly the brute halted thirty yardsaway from where the lad crouched, and again carefully tested theatmosphere with its trunk. Poor though its vision is, there is nocreature in the world which has such marvellous scenting powers.
"I have it! I have it!" screamed the monster. In the puzzling eddiesof air, that are almost always to be found in forest country, some faintwhiff of Guy's presence had reached the infuriated beast; and now, witha trumpet that shook the leafage and rang far through the woodland, thegreat beast came crashing through trees and bush straight for Guy'splace of concealment. Guy looked around. It was too dangerous toattempt to run now; in the thorn bush and scrub where he crouched he wastoo deeply involved to have any decent prospect of escape. He muststand the charge, and trust to his bullet turning the brute. Almost inthe twinkling of an eye, as it seemed, the bull was within ten yards.Guy had his rifle up and his finger on the trigger. Then, before he hadtime to pull, came the loud report of the Paradox, twenty paces to hisleft. Poeskop, good fellow that he was, had come to the rescue. Struckfull in the ribs, and raked through and through by the eight-borebullet, the bull was instantly diverted from his charge upon Guy, andnow turned, trumpeting yet more fiercely, for the smoke of the big bore.As he turned Guy gave him a good shot, which raked him obliquely behindthe shoulder. Flesh and blood, even the flesh and blood of the mightiestland mammal in the world, was not able to stand against the three woundswhich it had now received; and the bull, feeling very sick, turned awayfrom its revenge, and sought shelter in the forest again.
Poeskop crept up to his young master's side.
"Now, Baas Guy," he said, his narrow eyes gleaming with the light ofbattle and the fierce instincts of the savage hunter, "we shall havehim. Come along!"
Throughout this somewhat trying episode Guy had never once lost hishead. Now he felt as cool as possible. Something told him the dangerwas past and the victory near. They ran on in the wake of the elephant,and presently, going more cautiously, came up with it again. The bullcould go no farther. He was standing in a little clearing among somemachabel trees, swaying from side to side, the blood dropping from hismouth.
"He is very sick, baas," whispered Poeskop. "He will die soon."
"I can't wait," returned the lad. "I shall put him out of his misery."
"Pas op!" whispered the Bushman. "You can never trust an elephant. Hemay charge again."
But Guy was not to be gainsaid. Creeping within thirty paces of thesick monster, he took careful aim for the head shot again, between theeye and the ear, and pulled trigger. The bull knelt quietly down uponhis fore-legs, his hind-legs sank under him, and there, resting in thatattitude, he gave up the ghost.
"He is dood, baas," cried Poeskop joyfully. "You have done well. Twogood bulls for your first elephant hunt is as much as any man candesire. This bull's teeth will weigh forty pounds apiece; the other'sare much heavier. Hark!"
As he spoke there came sounds of firing in front of them, first oneshot, then two others.
"Come on, Poeskop!" cried Guy. "They are still hard at it. We may comein for more of the fun."
Threading their way through the forest, they trotted for a long halfmile, and then heard, not far in front, the scream of an angry elephant.Guy was beginning to get somewhat more accustomed to the sound; yet, ashe was always afterwards ready to admit, there are few things in naturemore awe-inspiring than the trumpet of a wounded or infuriated elephant.They moved forward very cautiously for another few yards, and then cameon the edge of more open ground. To the right they saw an elephant,manifestly a cow and wounded, shambling towards them. She was goingslowly, and every now and again would stop, spread out her huge ears,and thrust out her trunk. Twice she picked up d
ust with her trunk, andblew it over her shoulders as if bathing herself.
"She is far gone," whispered the Bushman. "We can finish her as shegoes by."
She was now within less than thirty yards of them, and as she came pasteach saluted her with a bullet. The cow staggered, came on, thoughtbetter of it, and then turned to make off. As she turned, Tom Blakeneyran out into the open, fifty yards away, and gave her yet anotherbullet. He stood and reloaded quickly, ready to turn and run for theshelter of the woodland if she should charge again. But the big cow wasfinished. She staggered as Tom's Martini bullet struck her, tried tosave herself, and then with a heavy crash fell over on to her side,stone dead.
"Hurrah!" shouted Tom, taking off his hat and flinging it up into theair. "I thought I should never get her. I've been after her nearlyhalf an hour. Thanks for your help, Guy. Where's the pater?"
"Here, my boy," replied Mr. Blakeney, with a smile, as he too emergedfrom the forest. "I have been running on your spoor the last tenminutes. I was afraid you might get into trouble. However, you've gotyour cow, and very nice teeth she has. They weigh more than twentypounds apiece, I should say."
Tom and his father were now joined by Guy and Poeskop. They heldconsultation and compared notes. It had been a great and successfulhunt. Mr. Blakeney had brought down a big bull and a cow with goodteeth. The tusks of the bull he estimated to weigh at least fiftypounds apiece, those of the cow about eighteen pounds apiece. LeavingTom's dead cow, they now made their way back to the two bulls shot byGuy. Of these the smaller and more troublesome one, which had hunted Guyso unmercifully, carried teeth weighing some forty pounds apiece; whilethe huge male, so easily bagged at the youngster's first discharge,showed a truly magnificent pair of tusks.
"My word!" said Mr. Blakeney, as he contemplated the giganticproportions of the beast, and its long, massive, gleaming tusks, withtheir splendid curves; "that's a grand fellow indeed. You seldom comeacross such a pair of teeth as that--seventy pounds apiece, if theyweigh an ounce! I congratulate you, Guy. Your first elephant is aprize indeed! Now, tell me how it all happened."
Guy described his adventures: his easy success with the great bull, andthe thrilling time he had had with the second.
"Well," said his uncle, "I'm not by any means sure that I am justifiedin letting you two lads begin elephant hunting so soon. But you've doneright well. Thank goodness, you escaped that second bull, Guy. Awounded elephant is one of the most formidable beasts in the world, andyou never quite know what may happen when one is charging you. You areborn to be lucky, Guy," he continued, "I do believe. But keep yourhead, and don't be too venturesome. They say the life of a professionalelephant hunter averages no more than half a dozen years. I can wellbelieve it. There are so many risks, and the labour is so enormous.Well, now, I reckon that these five elephants we have bagged will yieldsome four hundred pounds of ivory, which at ten shillings a pound willbring in two hundred pounds. Not a bad morning's work that, eh?"
"Father," interrupted Tom, with wild eyes and streaming face--for he wasstill, as indeed they all were, suffering from the effects of the greathunt--"I don't want to sell my tusks. I should like to take them hometo mother, and have them hung up in the dining-room at Bamborough, overthe sideboard or somewhere."
"So you shall, my boy," said Mr. Blakeney, with pleased face. "That'san excellent suggestion. But whatever your mother will say to me forallowing you to be hunting elephants in this way, I don't know."
Leaving Poeskop, who carried his native hatchet, to begin the task ofchopping out the tusks of the slain elephants, Mr. Blakeney returnedwith the two lads to the wagon. The oxen were inspanned, and a trek wasmade that afternoon to the scene of the hunt. Here a fresh camp wasformed, and the whole of the next day was spent in chopping out theremaining tusks and packing them away on the wagon.