by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER XXXI.
BESIEGED BY THE BULL.
"Well," continued Hans, after a pause, "I began to congratulate myselfon my fortunate escape; for I was convinced that but for the ant-hill Iwould have been trampled and gored to death. The bull was one of thelargest and fiercest of his kind, and a very old one too, as I couldtell by the bases of his thick black horns nearly meeting over hisforehead, as well as by his dark colour. I had plenty of time to notethese things. I felt that I was now safe--that the wildebeest could notget near me; and I sat perched upon the top of the central cone,watching his movements with perfect coolness.
It is true he did everything to reach my position. A dozen times hecharged up the hill, and more than once effected a lodgment among thetops of the lower turrets, but the main one was too steep for him. Nowonder! It had tried my own powers to scale it.
At times he came so close to me in his desperate efforts, that I couldhave touched his horns with the muzzle of my gun; and I had prepared togive him a blow whenever I could get a good chance. I never saw acreature behave so fiercely. The fact was, that I had hit him with mybullet,--the wound was there along his jaw, and bleeding freely. Thepain of it maddened him; but that was not the only cause of his fury, asI afterwards discovered.
Well. After several unsuccessful attempts to scale the cone, he variedhis tactics, and commenced butting the ant-heap as though he would bringit down. He repeatedly backed, and then charged forward upon it withall his might; and, to say the truth, it looked for some time as thoughhe would succeed.
Several of the lesser cones were knocked over by his powerful blows; andthe hard tough clay yielded before his sharp horns, used by him asinverted pick-axes. In several places I could see that he had laid openthe chambers of the insects, or rather the ways and galleries that areplaced in the outer crust of the hill.
With all this I felt no fear. I was under the belief that he would soonexhaust his rage and go away; and then I could descend without danger.But after watching him a good long spell, I was not a little astonishedto observe that, instead of cooling down, he seemed to grow more furiousthan ever. I had taken out my handkerchief to wipe the perspiration offmy face. It was as hot as an oven where I sat. Not a breath of air wasstirring, and the rays of the sun, glaring right down and thenreflecting up again from the white clay, brought the perspiration out ofme in streams. Every minute I was obliged to rub my eyes clear of itwith the handkerchief.
Now, before passing the kerchief over my face, I always shook it open;and each time I did so, I noticed that the rage of the wildebeest seemedto be redoubled! In fact, at such times he would leave off goring theheap, and make a fresh attempt to rush up at me, roaring his loudest ashe charged against the steep wall!
I was puzzled at this, as well as astonished. What could there be in mywiping my face to provoke the wildebeest anew? And yet such was clearlythe case. Every time I did so, he appeared to swell with a fresh burstof passion!
The explanation came at length. I saw that it was not the wiping off theperspiration that provoked him. It was the shaking out of myhandkerchief. This was, as you know, of a bright scarlet colour. Ithought of this, and then, for the first time, remembered having heardthat anything scarlet has a most powerful effect upon the wildebeest,and excites him to a rage resembling madness.
I did not wish to keep up his fury. I crumpled up the handkerchief andburied it in my pocket--preferring to endure the perspiration ratherthan remain there any longer. By hiding the scarlet, I conceived a hopehe would the sooner cool down, and go away.
But I had raised a devil in him too fierce to be so easily laid. Heshowed no signs of cooling down. On the contrary, he continued tocharge, butt, and bellow, as vengefully as ever--though the scarlet wasno longer before his eyes.
I began to feel really annoyed. I had no idea the gnoo was so implacablein his rage. The bull evidently felt pain from his wound. I couldperceive that he moaned it. He knew well enough it was I who had givenhim this pain.
He appeared determined not to let me escape retribution. He showed nosigns of an intention to leave the place; but laboured away with hoofand horns, as if he would demolish the mound.
I was growing very tired of my situation. Though not afraid that thebull could reach me, I was troubled by the thought of being so longabsent from our camp. I knew I should have been there. I thought of mylittle sister and brother. Some misfortune might befall them. I was verysad about that, though up to that time I had little or no fears formyself. I was still in hopes the wildebeest would tire out and leave me,and then I could soon run home.
I say, up to that time I had no very serious fears for myself--exceptingthe moment or two when the bull was chasing me to the hill; but thatlittle fright was soon over.
But now appeared a new object of dread--another enemy, as terrible asthe enraged bull--that almost caused me to spring down upon the horns ofthe latter in my first moments of alarm!
I have said that the wildebeest had broken down several of the lesserturrets--the outworks of the ant-hill--and had laid open the hollowspaces within. He had not penetrated to the main dome, but only thewinding galleries and passages that perforate the outer walls.
I noticed, that, as soon as these were broken open, a number of ants hadrushed out from each. Indeed, I had observed many of the creaturescrawling outside the hill, when I first approached it, and had wonderedat this--as I knew that they usually keep under ground when going andcoming from their nests. I had observed all this, without taking note ofit at the time--being too intent in my stalk to think of anything else.For the last half-hour I was too busy watching the manoeuvres of thewildebeest bull, to take my gaze off him for a moment.
Something in motion directly under me at length caught my eye, and Ilooked down to see what it was. The first glance caused me to jump to myfeet; and, as I have already said, very nearly impelled me to leap downupon the horns of the bull!
Swarming all over the hill, already clustering upon my shoes, andcrawling still higher, were the crowds of angry ants. Every hole thatthe bull had made was yielding out its throng of spiteful insects; andall appeared moving towards me!
Small as the creatures were, I fancied I saw design in their movements.They seemed all actuated with the same feeling--the same impulse--thatof attacking me. I could not be mistaken in their intent. They moved alltogether, as if guided and led by intelligent beings; and they advancedtowards the spot on which I stood.
I saw, too, that they were the soldiers. I knew these from the workers,by their larger heads and long horny mandibles. I knew they could bitefiercely and painfully.
The thought filled me with horror. I confess it, I never was sohorrified before. My late encounter with the lion was nothing to comparewith it.
My first impression was that I would be destroyed by the termites. I hadheard of such things--I remembered that I had. It was that, no doubt,that frightened me so badly, I had heard of men in their sleep beingattacked by the white ants, and bitten to death. Such memories camecrowding upon me at the moment, until I felt certain, that if I did notsoon escape from that spot, the ants would sting me to death and eat meup!"
