The Gold Kloof

This time the result was nothing like so encouraging. The great brute wheeled round with astonishing quickness, and with a trumpet that sounded to Guy like the scream of a dozen railway engines rolled into one, charged instantly. There was nothing for it but flight; and good runner as Guy was, he always said afterwards that never had he sprinted so fast as he did over the fifty yards of open ground across which the wounded bull now chased him. Poeskop, who was twenty or thirty yards behind as Guy fired, had turned short as the beast turned, and doubled back into some bush, and for the present was safe; but Guy, with the elephant following upon his heels, trumpeting wickedly as it ran, felt that he was in a very tight place indeed. Nearer and nearer came the great brute. The lad felt that each moment the monster's trunk would come slipping round his waist. A clump of trees and some bush stood just before him. How he accomplished it he never quite knew; but he reached the shelter, dodged round a tree like a rabbit, slipped behind some bush, and crouched close to the earth. As he expected, the elephant 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 its tracks so soon as it had pulled up, and, with ears held at right angles to its head, looking, as Guy in his place of concealment thought to himself, for all the world like a pair of mighty sails hoisted to the breeze, and its trunk searching the air closely for the scent of its enemies, trotted quickly back. If by chance the beast got his wind, Guy knew quite well that he would have to sustain another charge, and the monster would be on top of him. Suddenly the brute halted thirty yards away from where the lad crouched, and again carefully tested the atmosphere with its trunk. Poor though its vision is, there is no creature in the world which has such marvellous scenting powers.

"I have it! I have it!" screamed the monster. In the puzzling eddies of air, that are almost always to be found in forest country, some faint whiff of Guy's presence had reached the infuriated beast; and now, with a trumpet that shook the leafage and rang far through the woodland, the great beast came crashing through trees and bush straight for Guy's place of concealment. Guy looked around. It was too dangerous to attempt to run now; in the thorn bush and scrub where he crouched he was too deeply involved to have any decent prospect of escape. He must stand the charge, and trust to his bullet turning the brute. Almost in the 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 had time to pull, came the loud report of the Paradox, twenty paces to his left. Poeskop, good fellow that he was, had come to the rescue. Struck full in the ribs, and raked through and through by the eight-bore bullet, the bull was instantly diverted from his charge upon Guy, and now 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 behind the shoulder. Flesh and blood, even the flesh and blood of the mightiest land mammal in the world, was not able to stand against the three wounds which it had now received; and the bull, feeling very sick, turned away from 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 of battle and the fierce instincts of the savage hunter, "we shall have him. Come along!"

Throughout this somewhat trying episode Guy had never once lost his head. Now he felt as cool as possible. Something told him the danger was 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 bull could go no farther. He was standing in a little clearing among some machabel trees, swaying from side to side, the blood dropping from his mouth.

"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. He may charge again."

But Guy was not to be gainsaid. Creeping within thirty paces of the sick monster, he took careful aim for the head shot again, between the eye and the ear, and pulled trigger. The bull knelt quietly down upon his fore-legs, his hind-legs sank under him, and there, resting in that attitude, he gave up the ghost.

"He is dood, baas," cried Poeskop joyfully. "You have done well. Two good bulls for your first elephant hunt is as much as any man can desire. This bull's teeth will weigh forty pounds apiece; the other's are much heavier. Hark!"

As he spoke there came sounds of firing in front of them, first one shot, then two others.

"Come on, Poeskop!" cried Guy. "They are still hard at it. We may come in for more of the fun."

Threading their way through the forest, they trotted for a long half mile, 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, as he was always afterwards ready to admit, there are few things in nature more awe-inspiring than the trumpet of a wounded or infuriated elephant. They moved forward very cautiously for another few yards, and then came on the edge of more open ground. To the right they saw an elephant, manifestly a cow and wounded, shambling towards them. She was going slowly, and every now and again would stop, spread out her huge ears, and thrust out her trunk. Twice she picked up dust with her trunk, and blew it over her shoulders as if bathing herself.

"She is far gone," whispered the Bushman. "We can finish her as she goes by."

She was now within less than thirty yards of them, and as she came past each saluted her with a bullet. The cow staggered, came on, thought better of it, and then turned to make off. As she turned, Tom Blakeney ran out into the open, fifty yards away, and gave her yet another bullet. He stood and reloaded quickly, ready to turn and run for the shelter of the woodland if she should charge again. But the big cow was finished. She staggered as Tom's Martini bullet struck her, tried to save 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 the air. "I thought I should never get her. I've been after her nearly half an hour. Thanks for your help, Guy. Where's the pater?"

"Here, my boy," replied Mr. Blakeney, with a smile, as he too emerged from the forest. "I have been running on your spoor the last ten minutes. I was afraid you might get into trouble. However, you've got your cow, and very nice teeth she has. They weigh more than twenty pounds apiece, I should say."

Tom and his father were now joined by Guy and Poeskop. They held consultation and compared notes. It had been a great and successful hunt. Mr. Blakeney had brought down a big bull and a cow with good teeth. The tusks of the bull he estimated to weigh at least fifty pounds apiece, those of the cow about eighteen pounds apiece. Leaving Tom's dead cow, they now made their way back to the two bulls shot by Guy. Of these the smaller and more troublesome one, which had hunted Guy so unmercifully, carried teeth weighing some forty pounds apiece; while the 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 gigantic proportions of the beast, and its long, massive, gleaming tusks, with their splendid curves; "that's a grand fellow indeed. You seldom come across such a pair of teeth as that-seventy pounds apiece, if they weigh an ounce! I congratulate you, Guy. Your first elephant is a prize indeed! Now, tell me how it all happened."

Guy described his adventures: his easy success with the great bull, and the thrilling time he had had with the second.

"Well," said his uncle, "I'm not by any means sure that I am justified in letting you two lads begin elephant hunting so soon. But you've done right well. Thank goodness, you escaped that second bull, Guy. A wounded elephant is one of the most formidable beasts in the world, and you never quite know what may happen when one is charging you. You are born to be lucky, Guy," he continued, "I do believe. But keep your head, and don't be too venturesome. They say the life of a professional elephant hunter averages no more than half a dozen years. I can well believe it. There are so many risks, and the labour is so enormous. Well, now, I reckon that these five elephants we have bagged will yield some four hundred pounds of ivory, which at ten shillings a pound will bring in two hundred pounds. Not a bad morning's work that, eh?"

"Father," interrupted Tom, with wild eyes and streaming face-for he was still, as indeed they all were, suffering from the effects of the great hunt-"I don't want to sell my tusks. I should like to take them home to mother, and have them hung up in the dining-room at Bamborough, over the sideboard or somewhere."

"So you shall, my boy," said Mr. Blakeney, with pleased face. "That's an excellent suggestion. But whatever your mother will say to me for allowing you to be hunting elephants in this way, I don't know."

Leaving Poeskop, who carried his native hatchet, to begin the task of chopping out the tusks of the slain elephants, Mr. Blakeney returned with the two lads to the wagon. The oxen were inspanned, and a trek was made that afternoon to the scene of the hunt. Here a fresh camp was formed, and the whole of the next day was spent in chopping out the remaining tusks and packing them away on the wagon.

Chapter IX.

IN THE THIRST-LAND

"Baas," said Poeskop, on the evening of that day, as his masters sat together as usual at their cheery camp fire, "I saw something this morning which I didn't understand. I don't like it."

"What was it, Poeskop?" said Mr. Blakeney, looking with an amused smile at the Bushman's serious face, puckered just now into innumerable wrinkles.

"Well, my baas," returned Poeskop, "it was this. When I first went out this morning, at sun-up, to start cutting out the rest of the teeth, I found the spoor of some one who had been prowling round our camp and looking at all our elephants."

"Only some wandering native, I suppose," said Mr. Blakeney. "It's quite natural. This is a very thinly inhabited country, but there must be some tribe or other in the neighbourhood, even if they were only Bushmen or Berg Damaras. There's no harm in that, if they take nothing; and the ivory is all right, anyhow."

"Nay, baas," replied Poeskop, "it's not a kaal[naked] Kaffir. There are no natives within forty miles of us. What I did find was spoor of a man wearing velschoen. He's not a white man, but a Hottentot or Griqua. I don't like it, baas. There is some one spying upon us."

Mr. Blakeney knit his brows and thought. He was a little disturbed at Poeskop's intelligence; but after all they were a strong party, whom few would care to attack. And besides, who wanted to attack them? Then somehow the figure of Karl Engelbrecht rose before his mind's eye.

"What's your mind running on, Poeskop?" he queried. "A Dutchman?"

"Ja, baas," said the little man sententiously. "It is just that."

"And the Dutchman is Karl Engelbrecht?" he queried again.

"Ja, baas," said the Bushman quietly. "It is Karl Engelbrecht."

Mr. Blakeney thought a good deal over this circumstance, and determined for the future to keep a sharper lookout. Hitherto, although they were now in the lion veldt, it had not been deemed necessary to keep a watch at night. It is not the custom to do so. So long as fires are maintained, and some one awakes periodically to keep them supplied with wood, it is thought sufficient, and the whole camp is usually to be found wrapped in slumber. Hunters sleep light, and arms are always at hand; and the presence of a marauding lion or leopard, or any other member of the Carnivora, is soon announced by the savage barking of the wagon dogs, or by a disturbance among the oxen and horses.

For the future some one of the party was awake during the long night hours. All took their turns, and the guard was changed thrice during the time of darkness. So much Mr. Blakeney conceded to Poeskop's alarm and his own suspicions.

For the next few days, after the completion of the elephant hunt, they trekked through beautiful forest country, much of it adorned with wide and open grass glades, reminding the boys very much of an English deer park. They saw an immense quantity of elephant spoor, and several troops of the beasts themselves, but they were now anxious to press on; they had no room in the wagon for more ivory, and it was therefore decided to hunt the great pachyderms no more for the present. If they could not carry the ivory, it would be criminal waste of life to shoot the beasts that bore that precious commodity. And so they moved forward steadily on their way, determined, if by chance they returned by that route, to have at least one more good day of hunting. They had cleared the forest region, and had now entered upon a piece of thirst-land, which, as Poeskop informed them, would take three long days and three nights of travel to negotiate. Not a drop of surface water lay along this stretch of desert, and it would be tough work to get the oxen through without loss of life.

On the second morning of the long thirst, after trekking great part of the night through heavy sand, the two boys and Mr. Blakeney were sitting at breakfast. Seleti and Mangwalaan, who had been herding the oxen while they fed, presently came in with their charges, and the order was given to inspan. Seleti brought news that a big troop of eland had been feeding close to the camp during the night. They had not gone by very long. Would the baases not like to hunt? Eland meat-here the Bechuana's eyes sparkled-was very good; better than elephant, better even than giraffe. The two lads were at once on their feet.

"Pater, we haven't shot eland, either of us," cried Tom eagerly. "May we go? We shall probably be gone no more than an hour, and we can soon pick up the wagon."

"Very well," said Mr. Blakeney. "Be off, and shoot a couple of eland if you like. Shoot cows for preference. We want some good meat, so bring in as much flesh as your ponies can carry. You had better take Poeskop with you, Guy; you're not yet a practised veldt man like Tom, and I wouldn't like you to get lost in this thirst-land. Tom can pick out spoor and knows his whereabouts, and can always hit off the wagon-trail and find his way, if you get separated."

"All right, uncle," said Guy. "We shall be back soon. Good-bye."

The lads took their rifles and bandoliers, saddled their ponies quickly, and were in such a hurry to be gone, believing the eland to be quite close, that they took with them neither coats nor water-bottles, but just rode gaily off, calling to Poeskop, who was still saddling his pony, to follow them. Seleti had given them the direction in which the elands had been grazing, and it was not very long before they had found traces of the animals they sought.

"That must be eland spoor," said Tom, pointing to a quantity of footprints, which showed that a large herd had gone by. "I never saw it before, but there's no mistaking it. It looks something like a buffalo spoor, or, better still, that of Alderney cattle."

Just then Poeskop, who had heard Tom's remark, rode up.

"Ja, baas," he said. "That is eland spoor right enough. It is a big troop, seventy or eighty at least. Something has startled them: they are running."

"That's a nuisance," rejoined Tom. "We may have to ride farther than we thought."

"Never mind," added Guy. "Once we get up to them, we shall soon run them down. At least, all the books I have ever read on African sport speak of eland as being very easily ridden in to."

They moved rapidly on the spoor, now walking their horses at a brisk pace; but the troop had, by some means or other, been thoroughly alarmed, and had trotted ahead of them, without halting, for miles, bent manifestly on seeking more secluded pastures. It was not until twelve o'clock, after a short off-saddle to rest their nags, that the hunters came up with them. They were riding through a thickish belt of mopani forest, a tree which grows as a rule in light, gray, tufaceous soil, and abounds in "thirst" country. Suddenly Guy whispered to his companions, -

"Look! these must be elands."

Tom and Poeskop turned their heads quickly, and saw, through the trees on the right, some two hundred yards ahead, a number of big, fawn-coloured forms disappearing into the woodland.

"Ja, those are elands, baas," answered Poeskop. "They are running; we must hartloup."

They put spurs to their willing nags and dashed after the game. Clearing the thicker part of the forest, they emerged into much more open country, where for the first time they obtained a fair view of the noble herd of game in front of them. It was a goodly sight indeed. Nearly a hundred great elands, the biggest of them enormous creatures, heavier and fatter than a heavy ox in the prime of condition, were trotting along briskly in front of them. The eland seldom runs at a gallop until very hard pressed; but the fine, slinging trot at which the great antelopes moved was fast enough to keep the hunters at a steady canter to hold them in view. Seven or eight enormous bulls ran with the herd-huge, ponderous fellows, with coats of pale fawn, heavy dewlaps, massive horns twisted at the base, and dark-brown patches of thick, brush-like hair growing in the middle of their foreheads. Some fine young bulls, many splendid cows, and numbers of younger animals, completed the company. As Guy and Tom cantered side by side, watching this entrancing spectacle with the keenest interest, Tom exclaimed, -

"What magnificent fellows! We must get a bull as well as the two cows the pater spoke of. I shall bear to the left; the troop seems to me to be splitting up. You take those on the right hand, Guy. Now we must gallop hard."

It was even as Tom had said. Entering more woodland half a mile farther on, the troop had definitely broken up into two big sections. Tom, galloping as hard as the mopani growth would allow him, was rapidly closing up with the hindmost of the left-hand section. In another mile they had once more entered on a stretch of nearly open grass veldt. Here Tom set his pony going in earnest. He was quickly up to the tail of a magnificent old bull, upon which he had fixed his attention. The great antelope was in far too high condition to stand a prolonged chase. So fat, so plethoric was he, that he was now practically at the end of his tether. From the slinging trot he had relapsed to a heavy gallop; his sleek, short-haired, buff coat was moist with sweat, showing the bluish skin beneath; clots of foam dripped from his mouth, and strung out over his mighty neck and shoulders.

Tom saw that the bull was his. His eyes rested upon those magnificent horns. Firing from the saddle, he gave the bull two bullets at very close range: the first penetrated the antelope's ribs, but did not stop him; the second broke his off fore-leg at the shoulder, and the great beast came down instantly in his tracks, as if struck by a pole-axe. Never again would the goodly antelope wander through the mopani forest, or graze peacefully over the grass plains. Tom jumped off instantly, gave the bull another shot, which put him out of his suffering, cast an admiring look at the splendid horns, and jumped on his pony again. Galloping along the spoor of a few of the retreating herd, which he was easily able to follow, in ten minutes he was within hail of the nearest of the troop. Now he singled out a fine cow, carrying a remarkably long and even pair of horns, and turning her from the rest galloped hard at her. In two miles the cow was beaten, and Tom, having raced past her, jumped off, and as she came by gave her a shot behind the shoulder which instantly stretched her dead. The eland is the softest and most easily slain of all African beasts of chase, and, unlike most of the antelope family, which are astonishingly tenacious of life, will often fall dead to a single well-planted bullet. Feeling mightily content, the lad examined his prize, handled the long, even horns, noted the fine basal twist, put his knife into the dead beast's loin and saw that she was very fat, and turned to knee-halter his pony.

To his astonishment Rufus, who had been plucking a few mouthfuls of grass, suddenly threw up his head and trotted off. Tom called to him in his most coaxing voice, but in vain; the pony, seeing that he was followed, broke from a trot to a smart canter, and presently, entering some thick woodland, became lost to sight. Tom blamed himself bitterly for his neglect in not having thrown the reins as usual over the pony's head, so as to hang down in front of its fore-legs. This is an invariable South African custom, which all ponies understand and obey. Tom had been so desperately intent on shooting and putting an end to the eland that he had for once omitted the act. He had ridden Rufus many times out bird-shooting, but had never hunted heavy game with him before. Why the pony should thus have bolted off, however, he could not imagine.

Tom was now in something of a quandary. Should he follow the pony, or turn to and skin the eland? He decided for the latter. He could then spoor up the pony, capture it, bring it back for the meat, and go on for the horns of the bull eland. He would never return to the wagon without those magnificent trophies, which he pictured to himself lying in the veldt a few miles away. It was now one o'clock; Tom had a very respectable thirst already upon him. Most foolishly, as he now remembered, he and Guy had ridden away from camp without their water-bottles-an act of folly of which, as Tom confessed to himself, he at all events ought never to have been guilty. Well, there was nothing for it; he must skin the eland, cut up some meat, and probably by that time the other two would have returned in search of him. He had heard their rifles going. No doubt they had killed a cow, and would be soon on their way again. If they and he should chance not to meet, he must go in search of his pony, and somehow find his way back to the wagon.

Thus turning matters over in his mind, Tom drew his hunting-knife from his belt, and, having first fired a couple of shots to try and attract his comrades, began to skin the eland.

Meanwhile, Guy and Poeskop had ridden away on the heels of the herd of eland which had run right-handed. After a stiffish three-mile gallop, Guy had ridden up to the finest cow he could pick out, and with two bullets from his Mannlicher brought her down. During the run up he was somewhat astounded at the agility shown by these great antelopes; the bulls, it is true, pushed steadily on at a fast trot, but some of the cows jumped timber and bush in a style that would have done credit to a red deer. And the cow he had shot had, in her anxiety to escape, bucked clean over the stern of an animal running by her side.

Poeskop and Guy, who were still together, now set to work to skin the dead antelope. This they accomplished. Then cutting off the head, Poeskop set aside that part of the trophy, which Guy meant to carry himself, intending to skin the skull itself at his leisure after their return to camp. Next the Bushman cut off a quantity of the best part of the flesh, especially from the rump, loins, and brisket, and packing these, with a couple of marrow bones, carefully on the pony he rode, they prepared to set off. It was now two o'clock. Like Tom, they had set off hastily from camp without either food or water, and were already both hungry and thirsty. Guy, in particular, would have given a good deal for a pull at some lime juice and water or cold tea. The Bushman led the way; Guy, carrying the eland head in front of him, balanced on the pommel of his saddle, followed.

Poeskop struck for where he believed he would hit off the spoor of the wagon as it trekked forward on its route. But he had not quite reckoned upon the distance they had traversed that morning in pursuit of the elands, and at four o'clock they halted to rest their nags and take reckoning. The whole country seemed to Guy absolutely alike-a vast flat, covered for the most part with bush and thin forest, with here and there a small grass plain to vary the monotony. Far above them, the huge vacancy of the hot, brassy sky loomed unutterably vast.