by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER SEVEN.
A BUFFALO CHASE.
As the danger seemed averted, and there seemed no likelihood of itsrecurrence, most of the young Boers drew up around the fallen buffaloes,and dismounted to _gralloch_ and skin them. Three, however, who hadbecome excited beyond restraint, kept to their saddles, and went afterthe retreating herd. This trio of implacable pursuers were Piet VanDorn, the eldest son of Jari; Andries Blom, a nephew of Hans; a son ofKlass Rynwald; all three nearly of an age. But between the two firstthere had long been rivalry as to which was the more accomplishedhunter, with rivalry of another sort presently to be spoken of.
Their horses being of lighter hoof than the heavy bovines, they were notlong in again coming up with the latter; each, soon as withinshot-range, singling out one, and delivering his fire. But only two ofthe buffaloes fell; the third, which was that aimed at by Van Dorn,though hit, keeping its feet and running on. Not with the herd,however, for the sting of the shot seemed to drive it crazy; and,separating from the rest, it struck to the left and went scouring offalone.
But it was not to escape thus, at least unpursued. Rather than itshould, Piet Van Dorn would have ridden his horse to death, and almostto dying himself. His hunter pride was touched, and something more.What would Katharine Rynwald say--what think--on hearing that he hadfired and failed to bring down the thing fired at--he alone of all thethree? And she would be sure to hear of it; ay, be told of it withinthe hour. The cynical and satisfied smile on Andries Blom's face, as hesaw the wounded buffalo bound away, seemingly but little hurt, was surepromise that the fair Katharine would come to know all about it. Sowithout waiting to say a word to the other two, Van Dorn reined round tothe left, and pressed his horse to top speed, reloading his gun as hegalloped.
Perhaps young Rynwald would have followed to lend him a helping hand,but for Blom. The latter did not want that buffalo killed; instead, hehoped with all his heart that it might still escape. And to give it abetter chance, he cried out to the brother of Katharine, who bore hisfather's name--
"Klass! let us two follow the drove, and bring down another couple, sothat the camp people may have plenty of meat--dogs and all. We mayn'thave such a chance for months."
Thus appealed to, Klass thought no more about helping Van Dorn, butdashed on after the other, who had already started in pursuit of theherd. They did not again come up with it, however; but that signifiedlittle to Andries Blom.
Meanwhile, Piet Van Dorn, who inherited all his father's huntinginstincts, with much of his prowess, was doing his best to overtake thewounded bull. For a bull it was, and of immense size; apparently thepatriarch of the herd it had so unaccountably forsaken. This had causedthe young hunter some surprise; and he was also surprised, as well aschagrined, at his first shot not having brought the bull down. For hehad aimed at a vital part, with excellent opportunity, and could notaccount for his having missed. True, it was not altogether a miss,though not much better, the buffalo seeming but little hurt as itcareered on over the veldt, tail high in air. Mounted on a strong,swift horse, however, Van Dorn at length got again within range of it;and once more raising his roer, delivered what he believed would be itsdeath shot. Only to see, with chagrin greater than ever, that though hehad made a hit, it was not a kill. Indeed, so far from the bull beingfurther disabled, he but seemed to gather fresh strength, and with aloud bellow and angry toss of the head, continued on at a heightenedspeed.
But the pursuit was continued too; for with Piet Van Dorn it was now door die. Not for worlds would he have allowed that buffalo to escapehim; and, once more appealing to the speed of his horse, as he rammedanother cartridge down the barrel of his gun, he followed at hisfastest. It was a tail-on-end chase, prolonged for nearly anotherleague, before the pursuer thought himself near enough to send anothershot at the pursued. He did so at length, hearing his bullet hit with adull thud, as it buried itself in the flesh of the great bovine. Stillthe animal fell not, neither staggered, though it made no attempt to runon. The third shot produced an effect in it quite different from thetwo former, and, instead of further retreat, it stopped short, wheeledround, angrily shook its horned head, tore up the turf with its hoofs,then, with a loud bellow, charged back on its relentless pursuer.Having perfect control of his horse, and trust in the animal's speed,the young hunter could have easily avoided the onset by galloping wideout of the way. And he was in the act of doing so, had half reinedround, when he felt the horse sink beneath him, and himself going a"cropper" over neck and head.
There was no mystery about the cause, which on the instant declareditself by a peal of unearthly laughter ringing loud in his ears, whileat the same time he saw the creature that sent it up. His horse hadgone knee-deep into the hole of a "laughing hyena," [Note 1] out ofwhich the ugly brute now bounding ran off affrightedly over the veldt,as it went emitting its wild, weird cachinnations as the cries of amaniac fresh escaped from some lunatic asylum. All, too, as if inmockery at the hunter's mishap!
The horse was in no way injured, though, perhaps, better for his riderif he had been, for, on regaining his legs, which he instantly did, thetriple scare he had got, from the oncoming of the buffalo, his owntumble, and the screams of the hyena, was too much for him, and he brokeoff in wild stampede, leaving his master to look out for himself.
For some seconds Piet Van Dorn felt dismay, even to fearing death. Theinfuriated bull was fast nearing him, with head lowered, and horns setto crush or impale him. In another moment he might receive the fatalshock to know no more. For although he was also uninjured, and againupon his feet, there was no hope for him to escape by flight, and hisgun was empty; nor was there aught near to afford him shield or shelter.A look cast despairingly around revealed the veldt smooth and level formiles in every direction. Some bushes there were, with here and there astraggling tree, but none seemingly of sufficient size for climbing. Ata last glance, however, he caught sight of one branched to the ground,and with a full, dense foliage. It might afford at least a temporaryconcealment, and without staying to think further, he made for it atlightning speed. Luckily it was in his line of retreat, and as no timewas lost, he got up to and behind it before the bull could overtake him.
Never was hunter more overjoyed than he, when after a quick inspectionof the tree, he saw it had two trunks, either of which would bear hisweight up to ten or twelve feet above the ground. But there was a _percontra_, which acted as a damper to his joy, on his perceiving that bothwere beset with sharp spines. For it was a _doorn-boom_ [Note 2] a very"monkey puzzle," to ascend which would have deterred most _quadrumana_,as for a time it did him. Not long, however; it was "die dog, or eatthe hatchet," a choice between horns and thorns, and Piet Van Dornpreferred laceration by the latter, to facing certain death by theformer. So throwing his arm around the largest of the twin trunks hecommenced swarming up, regardless of the thorns tearing into his flesh,even undismayed by the hissing of a _boom-slang_ [Note 3] which withneck craned out threatened him from a branch above. But his resolutionto climb had been too late. Scarce were his feet well off the groundwhen he experienced a shock that sent him sprawling back upon it, aconcussion of such violence as for a time to deprive him of his senses.On recovering them he saw that he was lying some six or seven paces fromthe tree, bruised and bleeding. But where was the buffalo-bull?Raising himself on elbow, he looked all round; but no buffalo was insight, nor quadruped of any kind. His own horse, with the hyena, hadlong since disappeared, and now also the horned bovine; he himselfseemingly the only living, breathing thing over all that wilderness ofveldt.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. The so-called laughing hyena (_H. Crocuta_), as the otherspecies, often make burrows, but sometimes appropriate those of theant-eater. This species, though smaller than the striped hyena, is of afiercer nature and more dangerous. So much so as to have earned for itamong the South African colonists the title of _Tiger wolf_.
No
te 2. "Doorn-boom." Another of the thorny acacias so characteristicof South African scenery.
Note 3. "Boom-slang." Literally "tree snake." It is a large serpent,of yellowish brown colour, which makes its home in trees. It is notvenomous, however, though of formidable aspect.
