by L. T. Meade
*Chapter IX.*
*IN THE THIRST-LAND.*
"Baas," said Poeskop, on the evening of that day, as his masters sattogether as usual at their cheery camp fire, "I saw something thismorning which I didn't understand. I don't like it."
"What was it, Poeskop?" said Mr. Blakeney, looking with an amused smileat the Bushman's serious face, puckered just now into innumerablewrinkles.
"Well, my baas," returned Poeskop, "it was this. When I first went outthis morning, at sun-up, to start cutting out the rest of the teeth, Ifound the spoor of some one who had been prowling round our camp andlooking at all our elephants."
"Only some wandering native, I suppose," said Mr. Blakeney. "It's quitenatural. This is a very thinly inhabited country, but there must besome tribe or other in the neighbourhood, even if they were only Bushmenor Berg Damaras. There's no harm in that, if they take nothing; and theivory is all right, anyhow."
"Nay, baas," replied Poeskop, "it's not a _kaal_ [naked] Kaffir. Thereare no natives within forty miles of us. What I did find was spoor of aman 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 atPoeskop's intelligence; but after all they were a strong party, whom fewwould care to attack. And besides, who wanted to attack them? Thensomehow 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 determinedfor the future to keep a sharper lookout. Hitherto, although they werenow in the lion veldt, it had not been deemed necessary to keep a watchat night. It is not the custom to do so. So long as fires aremaintained, and some one awakes periodically to keep them supplied withwood, it is thought sufficient, and the whole camp is usually to befound wrapped in slumber. Hunters sleep light, and arms are always athand; and the presence of a marauding lion or leopard, or any othermember of the Carnivora, is soon announced by the savage barking of thewagon dogs, or by a disturbance among the oxen and horses.
For the future some one of the party was awake during the long nighthours. All took their turns, and the guard was changed thrice duringthe time of darkness. So much Mr. Blakeney conceded to Poeskop's alarmand his own suspicions.
For the next few days, after the completion of the elephant hunt, theytrekked through beautiful forest country, much of it adorned with wideand open grass glades, reminding the boys very much of an English deerpark. They saw an immense quantity of elephant spoor, and severaltroops 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 thereforedecided to hunt the great pachyderms no more for the present. If theycould not carry the ivory, it would be criminal waste of life to shootthe beasts that bore that precious commodity. And so they moved forwardsteadily on their way, determined, if by chance they returned by thatroute, to have at least one more good day of hunting. They had clearedthe forest region, and had now entered upon a piece of thirst-land,which, as Poeskop informed them, would take three long days and threenights of travel to negotiate. Not a drop of surface water lay alongthis stretch of desert, and it would be tough work to get the oxenthrough without loss of life.
On the second morning of the long thirst, after trekking great part ofthe night through heavy sand, the two boys and Mr. Blakeney were sittingat breakfast. Seleti and Mangwalaan, who had been herding the oxenwhile they fed, presently came in with their charges, and the order wasgiven to inspan. Seleti brought news that a big troop of eland had beenfeeding close to the camp during the night. They had not gone by verylong. Would the baases not like to hunt? Eland meat--here theBechuana's eyes sparkled--was very good; better than elephant, bettereven than giraffe. The two lads were at once on their feet.
"Pater, we haven't shot eland, either of us," cried Tom eagerly. "Maywe go? We shall probably be gone no more than an hour, and we can soonpick up the wagon."
"Very well," said Mr. Blakeney. "Be off, and shoot a couple of eland ifyou like. Shoot cows for preference. We want some good meat, so bringin as much flesh as your ponies can carry. You had better take Poeskopwith you, Guy; you're not yet a practised veldt man like Tom, and Iwouldn't like you to get lost in this thirst-land. Tom can pick outspoor and knows his whereabouts, and can always hit off the wagon-trailand 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 quiteclose, that they took with them neither coats nor water-bottles, butjust rode gaily off, calling to Poeskop, who was still saddling hispony, to follow them. Seleti had given them the direction in which theelands had been grazing, and it was not very long before they had foundtraces of the animals they sought.
"That must be eland spoor," said Tom, pointing to a quantity offootprints, which showed that a large herd had gone by. "I never saw itbefore, but there's no mistaking it. It looks something like a buffalospoor, 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 bigtroop, seventy or eighty at least. Something has startled them: they arerunning."
"That's a nuisance," rejoined Tom. "We may have to ride farther than wethought."
"Never mind," added Guy. "Once we get up to them, we shall soon runthem down. At least, all the books I have ever read on African sportspeak of eland as being very easily ridden in to."
They moved rapidly on the spoor, now walking their horses at a briskpace; but the troop had, by some means or other, been thoroughlyalarmed, and had trotted ahead of them, without halting, for miles, bentmanifestly on seeking more secluded pastures. It was not until twelveo'clock, after a short off-saddle to rest their nags, that the hunterscame up with them. They were riding through a thickish belt of mopaniforest, a tree which grows as a rule in light, gray, tufaceous soil, andabounds in "thirst" country. Suddenly Guy whispered to hiscompanions,--
"Look! these must be elands."
Tom and Poeskop turned their heads quickly, and saw, through the treeson 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; wemust hartloup."
They put spurs to their willing nags and dashed after the game.Clearing the thicker part of the forest, they emerged into much moreopen country, where for the first time they obtained a fair view of thenoble 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, weretrotting along briskly in front of them. The eland seldom runs at agallop until very hard pressed; but the fine, slinging trot at which thegreat antelopes moved was fast enough to keep the hunters at a steadycanter to hold them in view. Seven or eight enormous bulls ran with theherd--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 fineyoung bulls, many splendid cows, and numbers of younger animals,completed the company. As Guy and Tom cantered side by side, watchingthis entrancing spectacle with the keenest interest, Tom exclaimed,--
"What magnificent fellows! We must get a bull as well as the two cowsthe pater spoke of. I shall bear to the left; the troop seems to me tobe splitting up. You take those on the right hand, Guy. Now we mus
tgallop hard."
It was even as Tom had said. Entering more woodland half a mile fartheron, the troop had definitely broken up into two big sections. Tom,galloping as hard as the mopani growth would allow him, was rapidlyclosing up with the hindmost of the left-hand section. In another milethey 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 tailof a magnificent old bull, upon which he had fixed his attention. Thegreat 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 ofhis tether. From the slinging trot he had relapsed to a heavy gallop;his sleek, short-haired, buff coat was moist with sweat, showing thebluish skin beneath; clots of foam dripped from his mouth, and strungout over his mighty neck and shoulders.
Tom saw that the bull was his. His eyes rested upon those magnificenthorns. Firing from the saddle, he gave the bull two bullets at veryclose range: the first penetrated the antelope's ribs, but did not stophim; the second broke his off fore-leg at the shoulder, and the greatbeast 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 anadmiring look at the splendid horns, and jumped on his pony again.Galloping along the spoor of a few of the retreating herd, which he waseasily able to follow, in ten minutes he was within hail of the nearestof the troop. Now he singled out a fine cow, carrying a remarkably longand even pair of horns, and turning her from the rest galloped hard ather. 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 whichinstantly stretched her dead. The eland is the softest and most easilyslain of all African beasts of chase, and, unlike most of the antelopefamily, which are astonishingly tenacious of life, will often fall deadto a single well-planted bullet. Feeling mightily content, the ladexamined his prize, handled the long, even horns, noted the fine basaltwist, put his knife into the dead beast's loin and saw that she wasvery fat, and turned to knee-halter his pony.
To his astonishment Rufus, who had been plucking a few mouthfuls ofgrass, suddenly threw up his head and trotted off. Tom called to him inhis most coaxing voice, but in vain; the pony, seeing that he wasfollowed, broke from a trot to a smart canter, and presently, enteringsome thick woodland, became lost to sight. Tom blamed himself bitterlyfor his neglect in not having thrown the reins as usual over the pony'shead, so as to hang down in front of its fore-legs. This is aninvariable South African custom, which all ponies understand and obey.Tom had been so desperately intent on shooting and putting an end to theeland that he had for once omitted the act. He had ridden Rufus manytimes out bird-shooting, but had never hunted heavy game with himbefore. Why the pony should thus have bolted off, however, he could notimagine.
Tom was now in something of a quandary. Should he follow the pony, orturn to and skin the eland? He decided for the latter. He could thenspoor up the pony, capture it, bring it back for the meat, and go on forthe horns of the bull eland. He would never return to the wagon withoutthose magnificent trophies, which he pictured to himself lying in theveldt a few miles away. It was now one o'clock; Tom had a veryrespectable thirst already upon him. Most foolishly, as he nowremembered, he and Guy had ridden away from camp without theirwater-bottles--an act of folly of which, as Tom confessed to himself, heat all events ought never to have been guilty. Well, there was nothingfor it; he must skin the eland, cut up some meat, and probably by thattime the other two would have returned in search of him. He had heardtheir rifles going. No doubt they had killed a cow, and would be soonon their way again. If they and he should chance not to meet, he mustgo 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 fromhis belt, and, having first fired a couple of shots to try and attracthis comrades, began to skin the eland.
Meanwhile, Guy and Poeskop had ridden away on the heels of the herd ofeland 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 twobullets from his Mannlicher brought her down. During the run up he wassomewhat astounded at the agility shown by these great antelopes; thebulls, it is true, pushed steadily on at a fast trot, but some of thecows jumped timber and bush in a style that would have done credit to ared deer. And the cow he had shot had, in her anxiety to escape, buckedclean over the stern of an animal running by her side.
Poeskop and Guy, who were still together, now set to work to skin thedead antelope. This they accomplished. Then cutting off the head,Poeskop set aside that part of the trophy, which Guy meant to carryhimself, intending to skin the skull itself at his leisure after theirreturn to camp. Next the Bushman cut off a quantity of the best part ofthe flesh, especially from the rump, loins, and brisket, and packingthese, 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 hadset off hastily from camp without either food or water, and were alreadyboth hungry and thirsty. Guy, in particular, would have given a gooddeal for a pull at some lime juice and water or cold tea. The Bushmanled the way; Guy, carrying the eland head in front of him, balanced onthe pommel of his saddle, followed.
Poeskop struck for where he believed he would hit off the spoor of thewagon as it trekked forward on its route. But he had not quite reckonedupon the distance they had traversed that morning in pursuit of theelands, and at four o'clock they halted to rest their nags and takereckoning. The whole country seemed to Guy absolutely alike--a vastflat, covered for the most part with bush and thin forest, with here andthere a small grass plain to vary the monotony. Far above them, thehuge vacancy of the hot, brassy sky loomed unutterably vast.
The Bushman looked about him with a puzzled expression. Even he, inthis wilderness where every object seemed to be repeated interminably,and not a hill, or swelling of the ground, or any kind of landmark,arose to offer guidance to the traveller, seemed for a few minutes to beat fault.
"Hallo, Poeskop!" said Guy wearily. "Have you lost your way? I hopenot. I've got a thirst on me that I would give a sovereign to quench."
"Nie, baas," said the Bushman cheerfully. "We have not lost our wayyet. I shall soon show you the wagon spoor."
And, in truth, the little wizened fellow was not many seconds at fault.To Guy, as the little man looked this way and that, searched the sky,squinted at the westering sun, and opened his broad nostrils to thefaint breeze that was now beginning to move over the parched veldt, itseemed almost as if Poeskop was smelling his way. At all events, hissavage instinct quickly reasserted itself. Touching his pony by theheel, he went resolutely forward. For another hour and a half theymarched on in silence. The veldt seemed very desolate and very sombre.A few small antelopes fled away from their approach; these weresteinbuck and duyker, which exist apparently as readily without water aswith it. The sun sank below the skyline, leaving the flaming heavensarrayed in a marvellous glow of radiant colouring; the light quicklyfaded.
"Poeskop," said Guy at last, "we shall have to camp out for the night.It's a bad job. I don't know what we shall do without water."
Scarcely had the words left his mouth when the Bushman pointed to thesand a few yards in front of them, and said quietly,--
"There's the wagon spoor, baas."
And so, indeed, it was. They rode on in the darkness for something morethan three hours longer. Guy, who suffered much from thirst, and beganto ache all over from the effects of fourteen hours in the saddle, theweight of his rifle, and the added labour of supporting the eland headin front of him, began to wonder if he could stick it out much longer.At last, towards nine o'clock, they saw, twinkling cheerily in thedistance, the light of a fire. It was the camp fire. Their trouble wasinstantly at an end; Guy's aches and pains vanished; they canteredbriskly
forward, and in ten minutes were at the wagon.
"Hullo!" cried Mr. Blakeney cheerily, as they rode up; "so you've turnedup at last. Who is there?"
"Poeskop and I, uncle," said Guy. "Hasn't Tom turned up yet?"
"Not yet," said Mr. Blakeney, without a trace of anxiety; "but he'll behere presently, no doubt. How do you feel? Dry?"
"Dry isn't the word for it, uncle," said Guy. "I never knew what thirstwas until to-day; not even when I got lost at Bamborough, huntinghartebeest. I would have given L5 willingly for a glass of water in thelast hour or two."
"Well, you were a pair of silly fellows to go tearing off without yourwater-bottles and without food; and when I heard of it afterwards, Iknew you would suffer for it. Now have a drink, lad. Here, Seleti,fetch the baas some water."
Seleti brought water from one of the barrels, and, lukewarm, muddy, andill-tasted as was the stuff, to Guy it seemed the veriest nectar he hadever tasted. Then the Bushman drank.
"Now, Guy," said his uncle, "I wouldn't drink much of that muddy stuff.Have a bowl of tea; it will quench your thirst far better, and pull youtogether."
Guy took his uncle's advice, and felt all the better for it. Then heate some supper. They sat by the fire till 11 o'clock, expecting Tom toride up at any moment; but no Tom appeared. They were in the middle ofa dangerous piece of thirst country, and it was absolutely essentialthat the oxen and wagon should trek on. The cattle had already enduredtwo days and nights without touching water; they must reach theriver-bed in front of them within the next twenty-four hours, or die.Enough water had been carried in the wagon-barrels to supply humannecessities and give a scant drink to the horses hitherto, but that wasdrawing to an end, and the horses must push on also.
Leaving the wagon to go forward, and retaining with them three of thefreshest horses, some food, and full water-bottles, Mr. Blakeney, Guy,and Mangwalaan stayed behind at the fire waiting for the return of Tom.Poeskop had now to accompany the wagon and show the way to water. Dawncame round, but still Tom tarried. Mr. Blakeney began now to betraysome anxiety. He knew that his boy had no water with him, and he knewthat two days and nights of thirst in such a veldt constituted a veryreal danger.
They cantered back to their camp of the previous morning and took thespoor of the three hunters, hoping in that way to trace the wanderingsof the lost lad. Mangwalaan was a splendid tracker, as good almost asPoeskop himself; but even to Mangwalaan that inhospitable wildernessrefused to yield up its secret. Troops of eland and gemsbuck hadwandered about the country meanwhile, obliterating all traces of thehunter's devious wanderings; and after searching throughout the long andhot day, the three camped out in that desolate wilderness, dead tired,disheartened, and, in the case of two of them, with the foreboding ofsome nameless calamity weighing upon their spirits. They lit a fire, andalmost in silence ate some food and drank a portion of the little limejuice and water that remained to them. Then Guy dozed off--he couldkeep awake no longer--and he and Mangwalaan slept.
He was awakened just before the dawn by the touch of his uncle's hand.Starting up, he looked into Mr. Blakeney's face, and was horrified atthe change that had come over him. He looked ten years older, drawn,gray, and haggard. He had, in fact, been awake all night, in a state ofintense nervous anxiety about his son.
"My lad," he said in a hoarse voice, "we must saddle up and be offagain. The nags are tired, but they will stand up for a day longer. Ipray God all may yet be well; but I fear--yes, I fear this hateful,waterless desert. It is a danger far worse than the worst lion veldt,or the most treacherous natives. I would to God I had never let you twolads go hunting till we had crossed it."
For the greater part of that day they continued the search, which, toGuy's sinking heart, seemed to become more and more hopeless.Occasionally they would fire a shot and listen, but, alas! no answeringshot returned. It was pitiful to watch his uncle's restless anxiety, hisfeverish haste. Towards one o'clock it became apparent that their ownhorses were already jaded. They were now near the wagon spoor again,and, with the view of reaching water and obtaining fresh mounts, theyrode, at the best pace their ponies could manage, on the track. Athalf-past five o'clock they had reached the outspan and water. Poeskopcame forward with an anxious face.
"Is Baas Tom here?" demanded Mr. Blakeney, in a hard, dry voice.
"Nie, baas," came the answer shakily. "He is not here. But his ponycame in alone, and very done up, two hours since."
"O God!" groaned Mr. Blakeney, in a despairing tone, "what is to bedone?"
It was a blow sufficient to daunt the stoutest heart. Tom had now, ashis father well knew and understood, been wandering for two days and anight without water. He was a tough and a strong, and above all acourageous lad, but in this land of thirst even the strongest man canscarcely expect to hold out for more than three days and nights undersuch conditions. That was a miserable night indeed. Nothing could bedone; but two parties were to be out on the search again at daybreaknext morning.
