The Ruined Cities of Zululand Part 6

The rifles were loaded, and the whole party moved off once more, leaving the carcase of the grey pony lying in a pool of blood where it had fallen, to become a prey to the jackals and hyenas, those scavengers of the African plains.

Mozelkatse, in a state of nudity nearly as complete as that of his subjects, was in high good humour, and welcomed them warmly. The hunt, he told them, promised well, and a vast number of deer of all kinds were hemmed in between the horns of the living crescent. He motioned them to take their places by the side of the trap, or barricade, into which the herds were to be forced. Masheesh temporarily left them to place his prize, the ant-eater, in safety; and as the line of beaters was still far distant, there was ample time to examine the stockade.

The whole was something like a lobster-trap without a top, or like one of the salmon weirs to be found running out into the sea on the Welsh coast. It was made of stout branches driven deeply into the ground, with lighter ones interlaced horizontally between the upright poles.

The opening was at least fifty paces in breadth, gradually narrowing, and as the horns of the living crescent drew inwards, it was the only outlet for the frightened game. It led to a deep square pit, which must have taken the tribe long to dig, whose sides were quite smooth and perfectly steep. Once in it, the deer could not get out, and towards this all the game was being driven. The process was a slow one, and it was afternoon before the long line of the Matabele approached. It was a curious sight. The shouts, screams, and yells of the men as they drove before them antelopes of all kinds, and then the excitement of those near the trap, as herd after herd would come down, find the barricade, and, suspecting danger, turn back. At first the different animals kept to themselves, but as the circle narrowed, quaggas, zebras, antelope of various forms would become mixed together, while the Matabele would rush among them, brandis.h.i.+ng their long spears, and frantically striking their ox-hide s.h.i.+elds, shrieking, howling, and spearing right and left, until the affrighted wretches, surrounded on every side by the yelling savages, took the only outlet left them, and das.h.i.+ng madly down the path between the stockades, leaped wildly into the pit, falling pell mell in.

On they came, quaggas, koodoos, springbok, hartebeest, the shouting and spearing becoming wilder. Hundreds turned, and forced their way through the ever narrowing circle of yelling Matabele, the spears sticking in their b.l.o.o.d.y hides, while fuller and fuller became the pit, until it was heaped with the dead, dying, and maimed. There was the ferocious-looking gnu, the painted hide of the zebra, the graceful-limbed springbok, the long spiral horned leche, all heaped together in one boiling, seething ma.s.s of pain and suffering, the Matabele above, with savage cries, spearing those who in their agony tried to climb the sides of the pit, while still the yelling savages continued driving herd after herd, until, like the fire wors.h.i.+ppers'

trap, in Moore's beautiful poem, the pit was full and would hold no more. There was high feasting in the Matabele camp that night, for the hunt had been most successful, and the slaughter immense; but it was with feelings of pleasure the travellers had a farewell interview with Mozelkatse, and then pa.s.sing among the dancing, singing savages, took their way across the plain, lighted by a brilliant moon, to their quiet camp by the side of the Limpopo.

Volume 1, Chapter VI.

A NARROW ESCAPE.

Two days after the Matabele hunt the vast plains were once more silent, Mozelkatse, at the head of his gorged hunters, having left Zoutpansburgh for his own kraal, and the party of which the white men were the chiefs, having resumed their march northward. The waggon and horses had not yet been sent back, but the onward march was slow and tedious, and pa.s.sing through the country of the Batonga, it took five days' toilsome march before the tent was pitched on a bend of the Suave river. The weather had gradually increased in heat, the native kraals were few and small, and what was worse, the natives themselves seemed more and more unsociable, if not actually unfriendly.

The white man appeared known among them, but as the distance from the English frontier daily increased, this knowledge seemed only drawn from that of the Portuguese traders on the Zambesi, a degenerate race, who were looked down upon by the blacks. The plains swarmed with game of every kind, and fruits of different sorts were to be found near the rivers; but as the little party advanced, the forest-land became more frequent and more dense. The tall palmyra and the stately moshanna trees grew luxuriantly. Squirrels of various sorts haunted the groves and thickets, more particularly one species of a pale yellow colour, touched up with black, about eight inches long in the body, and being remarkable for its magnificent tail, also pale yellow, barred with black, and fully as long as the body. This beautiful little animal seemed to look for its food among the stones, and was quite fearless.

The pitfalls dug by the natives were so artfully concealed as to be very annoying, and even dangerous. On one occasion a Kaffir fell into one, and was released with some difficulty. One was found close to the banks of the Suave river, and into it a splendid panther had fallen. It must have been days since it had been there, for the sides of the pit were scored with its claws: however, a pistol-shot killed it, and its skin was a most beautiful one. The mosquitos and the soldier ants were another source of trouble; and what with the heat, and the too constant meat diet, sores attacked the whole party, breaking out on all parts of the body.

Night had closed round the little camp on the Suave river; the day had been hot and sultry, and the route had lain over plains covered with wild cotton, and among groves of trees closely resembling the orange, but at that time of the year not bearing fruit. Masheesh, who had been a day's journey to the eastward of north, in order to strike a large native kraal and obtain information, had just rejoined the camp, but his tidings were of a very mixed description. The tent was pitched under the spreading branches of a mashonga tree. A huge fire was lighted; a good supper had closed the fatigues of the day, and the men were fast asleep round the blaze, having gorged themselves with eland meat Captain Hughes was engaged sponging out a rifle, and near him, in the full blaze of the fire, Luji was skinning a small animal shot that day. It was a beautiful little creature of the squirrel tribe, about a foot long, of a bright yellowish red, barred here and there with black. The tail was at least three inches longer than the animal itself, and glossy black at the end. Wyzinski was earnestly studying a piece of broken stone, on which appeared some rude and defaced carvings; while, squatted on the ground, looking up into the missionary's face, quite naked and his head ornamented with the waving ostrich plume, the firelight danced over Hasheesh's black face and quick intelligent eyes.

"The Batonga tell," said he, "of a range of mountains to the northward and eastward, called 'Gorongoza.'"

"It is not the place we seek. Gorongoza is known to the Portuguese."

"The white chief seeks the broken stone huts," replied Masheesh, "and the Batonga tell of graves marked by stones lying on the mountain range of Gorongoza."

"And do not they know of others?" asked the missionary.

"Yes," replied the chief; "far to the eastward. Near the mouth of the river lie ruins, looking over the big water; it is from these that the stone which my father holds in his hand came."

Wyzinski stooped over the fire and carefully examined the fragment.

That it had been carved was evident, but it was so broken and defaced that he could make nothing of it. The chief continued--

"These ruins by the big water the Batonga call 'Sofala,' but to the northward and westward lies a large kraal. It is some days' journey from Sofala and Gorongoza. Near Manica lie great forests of strange trees, and among those trees lie broken stone huts. In the mountains are caves, where the leopards and the lions hide. The white chief may leave his life there, but he will not see them. The broken huts are sacred, and if the stranger saw them no rain would fall in the country for three years."

The voices of the speakers as they conversed eagerly together, with the wail of the jackals and hyenas, the barking of the foxes, the snort of the hippopotami on the river bank, broke the silence of the starlight night. The blaze occasionally flared up, and then died away, lighting up all to within a certain radius.

Luji was just finis.h.i.+ng his squirrel, and Hughes had put his rifle together and was trying the lock, when a tremendous roar, apparently close to, startled all, and the flickering blaze of the firelight danced for an instant on the dark hide of a lion, as he dashed past, the next moment pa.s.sing through the midst of the astonished group, bearing with him the carca.s.s of an eland that day shot.

The night was dark, the country unknown; dense thickets existed on the banks of the river,--and so heaping fresh wood on the fire, the whole camp was soon fast asleep, the task of following up the spoor of the lion being deferred till the next morning.

The day's march it was determined should be a short one, for Masheesh, who was down on the river side before daylight, had fallen on the remains of the eland some way off, just where the Suave discharged its meagre waters into another and larger stream, "It would seem," said Hughes, when relating the matter to Wyzinski, "that the lion must have been actuated by a spirit of fun, for he certainly was not hungry. The greater part of the eland lies in the brush near the river side."

"We will move on a few miles, and camp on the mountain slope," replied the missionary. "The lion is sure to return for the remains of the eland. You have but to watch for him; and if you don't, the chances are he follows the camp and pays us another visit."

"More than that," returned the soldier, "the gra.s.s is very much trampled near the pool formed by the junction of the two rivers. Many wild animals must frequent it, and perhaps elephants; but first we must replace the stolen meat," he continued, shouldering his rifle and moving off, followed by the others across the plain, for eland were very numerous at the foot of the mountain range. Bounding along in single file, led by some old antelope, they looked very pretty, the herds made up into parties of from six to ten, having many young ones among them.

The colour of the males is a rusty yellow, with a brownish tinge here and there, giving place to reddish tufts of hair running down the face.

The head small in proportion to the body, which is heavily and powerfully built. The eyes full, large, and soft, and the horns sloping backwards and twisted spirally. Taught by former experience, the hunter lay concealed behind the rocks. Masheesh, Luji, and Noti making a long circuit, came upon the rear of the eland, who were quietly grazing like tame deer in a park. The old buck, who generally led the herd, would soon take the alarm, and, raising his head, gaze around. Uttering a whistling cry, the rest would gather round him, as they moved away in single file for the hill-side. The alarm would spread, and at one moment there could not have been less than a hundred and fifty eland moving near them across the plain. Still the hunter's rifle was not heard, for the deer had taken a wrong direction. At length, a troop of ten headed straight for the rock where Captain Hughes lay; the loud report of his rifle rang out, still more startling the flying antelope, while a deer, bounding several feet into the air, fell stone dead, shot through the heart. The eland was a female, easily distinguished as such from the very great difference of colour, being of a light pale yellow, with a splendid pair of spirally-twisted horns. Without moving, the hunter waited, hoping that some of the herds, now wildly scouring the plain, would come within shot. Trotting jauntily along, his little feet hardly seeming to touch the ground, a young eland came to the side of the dead mother. It was of a different colour to the female. Of a pale orange tint, the horns were short, and not twisted. There were many mouths to feed in camp, and the child eland was three parts grown.

Again the sharp crack of the rifle was heard ringing across the plain, and the young antelope fell dead close to the mother, just as a herd of seven came bounding along at top speed within fifteen paces of the ambush. Seizing a spare rifle, the hunter sighted the leader of the troop, and a third sharp report woke up the echoes of the rocks. His foreleg broken, the eland still galloped on, his speed much diminished but yet considerable. Das.h.i.+ng after them came Masheesh, his long straight spear in his hand, his ostrich plume streaming backwards in the wind, his limbs naked save the usual ox hide round the waist. Singling out the wounded buck, the Matabele brave followed it. Its foreleg hanging useless, still the antelope struggled on, bidding fair to get away, but Noti headed it, and the animal came struggling along, in a direction which would lead it to within ten paces of the savage chief.

Poising the long bright a.s.segai, Masheesh stood for a moment motionless, while a gleam of light seemed to traverse the air, and the antelope fell heavily forward. The next, Masheesh bent over the struggling deer, the sharp curved knife flashed across the throat, a stream of blood followed, a few convulsive efforts, and all was still. This was a n.o.ble buck, measuring nine feet from the horns to the base of the tail, while the length of the horns was fully three, the deer standing nine feet high measured at the shoulder.

Sending the eland meat to camp, the hunters took their way to the river bank, searching for the spoor of the lion. Right opposite the spot where the remains of the deer lay, the river running between, a deep hole was dug, so deep that only the head and neck of a man standing in it would appear above the level ground. Between it and the remains of the deer, the stream formed a kind of pool. To the right ran the chain of mountains, while in front the plain was clear, the water a little lower down, pouring over a ledge of rock, so as to form a miniature cataract. Heavy timber grew right down to the river's edge, the branches of some of the trees dipping into the water. The hole was dug at the foot of a tree, and all round it grew long, rank gra.s.s, and tangled brushwood, save where it was cleared away in front.

About nine o'clock that night, Captain Hughes, accompanied by Luji, who carried a spare rifle, took his way down to the river.

"I climb in tree?" asked Luji. "Master hid away in hole?" His English was plain enough, but not very grammatical.

"No, thank you, Luji," replied the soldier, laughing; "remember the lioness of Zoutpansburgh."

"Three lions there," replied the other; "and Luji not know missionary in tree."

"Well, well, just you bundle off to camp, Luji, and go to sleep. If I am not back directly after daybreak, send to look for me."

"Luji come himself," said the man, with the air of a hero. "Good-night, master."

"Good-night, Luji."

The cracking of the brush was heard, then a monotonous chaunt, as the careless fellow took his way back to camp. Both sounds died away in the distance, and the hunter felt himself alone, dependent only on himself, in the middle of the African plain. The moon was in her second quarter, but would not rise before eleven o'clock, and the darkness grew dense.

The silence of the day was gradually broken into, the jackals and hyenas began their nightly music, and the watcher, though he could see nothing, became aware that animals of some kind were splas.h.i.+ng and drinking in the water close to him. He strained his eyes, but could not make out anything. Soon the jackals scented the carrion, their peculiar wailing cry coming nearer and nearer. Time wore on, the position in the cramped-up hole, without the possibility of seeing anything, was an irksome one, and the hunter, after the fatigues of the day, felt sleep creeping over him.

He heard the jackals quarrelling and snarling over the carrion; he heard the sound of the water as it flowed, falling over the neighbouring ledge, with a continued monotonous noise; he was with the 150th, telling many a tale of African adventure; in a word, he had fallen asleep, when a soft, cold, hairy hand was laid on the back of his neck, and a thrill of horror pa.s.sed through his frame, as he saw two large eyes looking through the darkness into his. At this moment the lion roared on the mountain-side, and the jackals heard it, for they left the carrion, giving a long mournful howl as they scurried away, and, taking up a position about half a mile off, filled the air with their plaintive music. Slowly the upper limb of the moon rose above the mountains, when again the cold, hairy touch was felt by the watcher, followed by a twitch at the fur cap he wore, and now by the feeble light he could distinguish an enormous monkey. It did not seem to have the slightest fear, but clutched at the sealskin cap, clas.h.i.+ng its long teeth together, and grimacing hideously. Again the lion roared, this time much nearer, as taking up a broken branch, the hunter struck at the troublesome baboon, who, chattering with fear, dashed into the tangled brush. The lion was evidently coming up very cautiously, but presently the snapping sound of breaking branches was heard, as the animal forced its way onwards. Raising his head to see that the rifles were in position, the startled hunter received the soft, warm breeze right in his face, becoming at once aware that the wind had changed, and was bearing the scent straight down on the lion, who was advancing up the wind, perfectly aware of the presence of some enemy, while the brushwood on that side extended for miles, right up to the mouth of the pit.

Another roar, this time close to. What would the ambushed man have given had even Luji been within range? The perspiration rolled down his face as he prepared to get out and meet the "lord of the mountain" on the open. It was too late, for a heavy bank of clouds rose, overshadowing the moon, and the hoa.r.s.e mutterings of distant thunder came on his ear. The cracking of the brushwood, too, sounded close to the mouth of the pit, as making himself as small as possible, the unfortunate hunter crouched down at the bottom of the hole, and, a c.o.c.ked revolver in his hand, prepared to meet his fate. A thrill of disgust shook him, for, with a shrill cry, the baboon, startled by the lion's approach, leaped into the pit, alighting on the hunter's back, clasping him round the neck. It seemed to him like a horrible nightmare, the long wail of the jackals taking the place of the cry of the fabled Banshee over the living dead. To add to the terror of the situation, the thunder was heard, peal on peal, and the lightning flashed, while the heavy rain-drops spattered on the leaves. He heard, too, the brushwood part, and a deep, hoa.r.s.e growl told him the lion was looking into the ambush; he fancied he could feel his breath; and then came a shriek of pain from the baboon, as his teeth met in the back of his neck. Lying down at the mouth of the hole, like a huge Newfoundland dog, the lion had reached down with his powerful paw, endeavouring to get at the monkey. In this he had so nearly succeeded, that his long claws had scored the creature's back, and its warm blood was pouring down the hunter's neck. A second time the lion made the attempt, when, with a scream of agony, using the rec.u.mbent figure for its spring, the baboon leaped out of the pit. The lion was nearly as active, as, with a fierce growl and a tremendous bound, it also cleared the mouth of the hole. The hunter was saved. Covered with blood, stained with dirt, and sorely frightened, Captain Hughes arose just in time to see the animal, chattering with delight, swing himself from branch to branch of a mowanna tree. The lion having unearthed one, had not suspected the existence of another animal in the same place, and, roaring once more loudly, it took its way towards the carrion, where it began tearing and rending the flesh, the wounded ape, now in safety, moaning bitterly, as the clouds cleared away slowly to the southward, the storm pa.s.sing along the mountain range. At length the lion rose, and, with a low growl as he pa.s.sed the tree where the noisy baboon was seated, walked down to the river to drink. He was a very large one, his mane and tail being unusually dark. Slowly and deliberately the magnificent animal walked into the pool. The report of the heavy rifle rang out, the ball striking him right between the eyes, as he stooped his head to drink.

With a wild convulsive bound, the lion cleared the stream, falling heavily into the brushwood beyond. Sounds somewhat between a moan of pain and a growl of rage followed, one or two heavy sobs, the breaking of the brushwood, as the huge carca.s.s fell over on its side, and then, save the cry of the jackals and hyenas, the moaning of the ape, and the distant rattle of the thunder, all was still.

Volume 1, Chapter VII.

THE FIRST ELEPHANT.

Nearly an hour pa.s.sed, and the watcher, tired, wet, and worn out, was thinking of the snug fire on the mountain-side, and the tent pitched near it; for certainly he had pa.s.sed through quite sufficient danger and emotion for one night at least, when several spotted hyenas came down to drink. Some wild boar followed, and it was a strong temptation to the hunter to fire, when a desperate fight took place between two old boars close to him. The storm had quite pa.s.sed away, cooling the heated air in its pa.s.sage; the moon and stars were s.h.i.+ning brightly, and soon bounding over the plain, with their peculiarly dancing motion, came a herd of springbok. Moving along at a great pace, springing from the ground into the air, and hardly seeming to touch the earth again for the next bound, on came the graceful antelope euch.o.r.e. Even in the day time the motions of this animal are so quick, that the eye cannot follow its bounds in their details, only realising the pace as a whole, but in the clear, silvery moonlight, they seemed like a troop of fairy elves, to the tired watcher, as they came dancing along over the African plain.

Das.h.i.+ng fearlessly into the water, the herd began to drink, with one exception. An old buck, from whose gait the inference might have been drawn that he had been previously wounded, stood sentinel on the bank.

There was meat and to spare in the camp, so the hunter only watched the beautiful animals. The sentinel seemed to suspect danger, and was fidgety and impatient. Was it possible he knew of the ambush? Captain Hughes asked himself; and yet from his motions he could not but conclude he did, when all at once a dark object sprang from the bush, and the sentinel springbok was in a moment rolling on the ground, while the rest of the herd were bounding madly over the plain in hurried flight. For a few seconds, there seemed to be one rolling, writhing ma.s.s on the bank; then the antelope lay still, and a panther, with its beautiful spotted skin, walked down to the river. Before reaching the water, the animal stopped and began licking and polis.h.i.+ng its hide, disarranged in the combat. Again the sharp report of the rifle was heard, and the panther, with a convulsive bound, sprang into the bush, which it could be heard tearing with its powerful jaws and claws in the death agony. Soon all was again still, as scrambling out of the pit, the hunter crossed the river, and advanced cautiously towards the carca.s.s of the springbok, finding it still quivering with muscular excitement, but quite dead.

Holding his rifle at full c.o.c.k, slowly and deliberately he approached the bush. The moonlight streamed over the painted hide of a large panther, lying quite dead.

Leaving the carca.s.s untouched, Captain Hughes managed to drag the deer on one side, covering it in the thick undergrowth, and then once more crossing the river determined never again to leave the brush growing close to the mouth of his hiding-place. That which had been the sentinel springbok's fate had certainly been his, if the panther had come that side of the river.

The report of the rifle had doubtless frightened the deer around, for fully two hours pa.s.sed without anything coming to the water. The time seemed very long, and the effect of the unusual excitement pa.s.sing away, the hunter again became drowsy. The position was a cramped one; the first part of the night, before the thunderstorm had cooled the air, had been hot and sultry; the breeze, heavily laden with the scent of the flowers of the mobala trees, again came in hot puffs, bringing with it the cry of the jackal and the hyena, and the other thousand noises of animal life which so distinguish night from day among the wild plains of Southern Africa. Still nearer to the watcher was to be heard the fall of the water over its ledge of rock, the moaning of the wounded ape, and once or twice, and that very distant, the roar of a lion. Spread out in the moonlight lay the plain, stretching away towards the eastern coast, watered by a small river, while to the right rose the chain of mountain land in which the river took its rise, and whose slopes were dotted here and there by what seemed large black patches of forest, princ.i.p.ally composed of trees exactly resembling the cedar. From one of these patches there came every now and then the sound of the splintering of wood, just as though a workman were felling timber. This noise was quite inexplicable; and the baboon, too, was annoying, for not only did it keep up its moaning, but would break off pieces of the branches, and throw them at the hunter, generally with a certain aim. The time wore wearily on, and Captain Hughes had just dozed off, when his attention was suddenly roused by a noise like the bleating of a sheep. No animal of any kind was in sight, and yet there it was, the low, plaintive bleating of a sheep. It seemed to come from the bush, and presently, out of it, came the beautiful painted body of a large snake, some fourteen feet in length, gliding along with a gentle, sinuous motion, and uttering from time to time the strange bleat. Gaining the foot of the tree where the baboon was, it wound itself round the trunk, and crept slowly up it. The moment the monkey caught sight of it dragging its s.h.i.+ning length upwards, it evinced a deadly fear. Slowly, but surely, the nogaputsane neared its prey, while the unlucky animal chattering and crying, seemed unable to escape. Moved by its distress, the hunter raised his rifle, but just as he was about to fire the baboon jumped from the tree, and leaping across the stream, seized one of the branches of a young mimosa, swinging himself into it chattering with fright. The large snake paused for a few minutes to look about it, soon slowly descending, and then starting in pursuit, the nogaputsane came to the river, which it did not like, and returned into the bush.

Time wore on; the interest of the night seemed past, and morning could not be far off. Fairly tired out, the soldier began making his arrangements for a return to camp, when he was stopped by seeing, or thinking he saw, a black ma.s.s moving among the shadows on the hill-side, where the sound of the splintering wood was heard. The cause of the noise was now made evident, for moving along slowly, the watcher saw for the first time the huge bulk of the African wild elephant. It was advancing towards the river. Suddenly it stopped, and for a few moments the hunter's heart beat quickly, thinking the chance lost, when, trotting along in a lumbering fas.h.i.+on, there came from out of the shade of the cedar and mashunga forests a second, but this time a young elephant. On they came, right for the river, opposite the hiding-place, the young one stopping from time to time, and then coming on at a trot to rejoin its mother. They neared the river, the old elephant evidently carefully examining every yard of ground before putting her huge foot down. They pa.s.sed under the tree where the baboon was hid, and the spirit of mischief seemed to wake up in the wounded animal, notwithstanding all that had happened to him that night. Breaking off a large bough, jabbering loudly, and making the most diabolical faces, it took aim at the young elephant, the wood hitting it a smart blow on the trunk. The mother stopped dead, uttering a strange trumpeting sound, then circling her trunk round the stem of the young tree, began to shake it violently. The monkey, active as he was, nearly came to the ground, holding on with difficulty, and crying loudly. Then the cracking of the stem was heard, just as the baboon, loosing its hold, dropped on the ground, and with one wild spring clambered into another tree, and swung himself from branch to branch, jabbering and whining with fear.

Casting the sapling from it, the elephant, as if satisfied with the lesson it had given, came down to drink. Coming to the spot where the panther and springbok had struggled, and where the gra.s.s and reeds were beaten down, the animal halted, evidently suspecting one of the native traps, and kneeling down on the edge it struck the ground all round with its trunk. It was now within thirty paces, but still the hunter's rifle remained silent. Hoping to meet with an elephant, the heavier rifle was loaded accordingly, the right-hand barrel with the usual ball, but the left carrying one of Devisme's explosive cartridges. Not able to detect anything wrong in the trampled ground, still the cautious creature would not tread on it, but circling round, broke her way through the bush, coming, as she did so, on the carca.s.s of the dead panther. This she examined very carefully, turning it over with her trunk, and it was only when she had fully satisfied herself that it was dead, that she called her little one to her side. Standing in the bed of the stream, the two sucked in vast volumes of water, discharging it into their mouths, and having satisfied their thirst, the old one began spouting the water over the back of its young. Ever ready to fire, the hunter watched them, for a quarter of an hour; but now the increasing coldness of the morning warned him that dawn was at hand. The heavier rifle had not yet been used. Taking a deliberate aim, he fired. For a moment the huge ma.s.s stood firm and unmoved; the next, turning, the elephant crashed through the bush towards the forest, the young one remaining standing in the river, as though wondering what all the noise was about. Covering him with the second barrel, and dreadfully vexed at his failure, Captain Hughes was about to fire, when the larger elephant, missing its young, stopped, and began calling it. Quickly changing his aim, the report of the rifle rang out, the explosive ball striking the elephant behind the shoulder, and taking an upward direction. Moving heavily forward, the enormous bulk of the animal seemed to waver, and sway from side to side.

Once it fell on its knees, recovered itself, and then gained the forest, disappearing with her young under the trees, the crash of breaking wood making itself heard once, and then all was still. The cries of the jackals and hyenas gradually ceased, the air became colder and colder as the dawn appeared, the light of the moon paled, and the noise of the falling water, with the occasional croak of a frog along the river bank, were soon the only sounds disturbing the stillness of the African plain, as, covered with the blood of the wounded baboon, soiled with wet and sand, his limbs stiff with cold and watching, as well as worn out with excitement, the weary hunter took his way up the mountain slopes, to where he knew he should find the camp.

Volume 1, Chapter VIII.

THE RUINS AT SOFALA.

Long before the tired hunter woke, a party headed by the missionary had brought in the carca.s.s of the lion, as well as those of the springbok and panther, and strange to say, the baboon had followed them, refusing to be driven away. It was in vain to pelt it with sticks and stones, for das.h.i.+ng away into the bush it would climb a tree, making the most hideous grimaces, chattering and crying, but the moment all was quiet, back it would come again. Worn out with fatigue and watching, the soldier had slept late, and the sun was high in the heavens when he awoke.