The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “You see, sir,” Dick said, “he attacked us unexpectedly; our guns were all discharged, and he came on with such a rush that there was no getting a steady shot at him. The whole affair lasted little more than a minute, I should say.”

  “I shall go out tomorrow morning,” Mr Harvey said, “and take up the track again, and see if I cannot get even with the beast. There is time enough today, for it is still early, but the herd will be so restless and suspicious that there will be no getting near them, and I should not care to face that old bull unless I had a fair chance of killing him at the first shot. He has a magnificent pair of tusks, and ivory sells so high that they would be worth a good deal of trouble and some risk to get.”

  “Shall I go with you, sir?”

  “No, Dick, I would rather you did not. The business will be more dangerous than usual, and I should not like the responsibility of having you with me. Tom had as narrow a shave yesterday as ever I saw, and I certainly do not want two of you on my hands.”

  Dick was not sorry at Mr Harvey’s decision, for after the charge of the bull-elephant he felt just at present he should not care about encountering another. The next morning Mr Harvey, accompanied by the three native hunters and the greater portion of the others, started in pursuit of the elephants.

  Dick, after sitting for some time with Tom, took his gun and wandered round near the camp, shooting birds. As the sun got high, and the heat became fiercer and fiercer, he returned to camp, and had just taken off his coat and sat down by the side of Tom when he heard shouts of terror outside the tent.

  Running out to see what was the matter, he saw the natives in a state of wild terror. They pointed across the plain, and Dick, to his astonishment and alarm, saw a great elephant approaching at a rapid trot, with his trunk in the air and his ears extended to the fullest. He recognised at once the bull which had charged them on the previous day. The natives were now flying in all directions. Dick shouted to them to stand and get their muskets, but his words were unheeded; he ran to the tent, seized the long-bore gun which he had carried the day before and also that of Tom, and charged them both hastily, but coolly.

  “What on earth is it all about?” Tom asked.

  “It is the elephant again, Tom; lie quiet, whatever you do; you cannot run away, so lie just as you are.”

  Then with a gun in each hand Dick ran out of the tent again. The elephant was now but a hundred yards away. Dick climbed into a waggon standing in the line on which he was coming, knelt down in the bottom and rested the muzzle on the side, standing up and waving his arm before he did so, so as to attract the attention of the elephant. The great beast saw him, and trumpeting loudly came straight down at him; Dick knelt, as steady as a rock, with the sight of the gun upon the elephant’s forehead.

  When he was within twenty yards Dick drew the trigger, and, without waiting to see the result, snatched up and levelled the second gun. The elephant had staggered as he was hit, and then, as with a great effort, he pulled himself together and again moved forward, but with a stumbling and hesitating step; taking steady aim again, Dick fired when the elephant’s trunk was within a yard of the muzzle of his gun, and then springing to his feet, leapt on the opposite side of the waggon and took to his heels.

  After running a few steps, he glanced back over his shoulder, and then ceased running; the elephant was no longer in sight above the waggon, but had fallen an inert mass by its side.

  “All right, Tom!” Dick shouted loudly; “I have done for him.”

  Before going to look at the fallen elephant Dick went to the spot where stood the piled muskets of the natives who had fled; dropping a ramrod into them, he found that two were loaded, and taking these in his hands he advanced towards the elephant. The precaution was needless; the great beast lay dead; the two heavy balls had struck within an inch or two of each other, and penetrated the brain. The first would have been fatal, and the elephant was about to fall when Dick had fired the second time.

  Gradually the drivers and other natives returned to camp with shouts of triumph. These, however, Dick speedily silenced by a volley of abuse for their cowardice in running away and leaving Tom to his fate. A few minutes later Mr Harvey galloped in at full speed, closely followed by the swift footed Blacking.

  “Thank God, you are safe, my boys,” Mr Harvey said, as he leapt from his horse. “I have had a terrible fright. We followed the spoor to the point where they had passed the night; here the trackers were much puzzled by the fact that the great elephant, whose tracks were easily distinguished from the others, seemed to have passed the night in rushing furiously about. Numbers of young trees had been torn up by the roots, and great branches twisted off the larger trees. They concluded that he must have received some wound which had maddened him with pain. We took up the track where the herd had moved on, but soon found that he had separated himself from it, and had gone off at full speed by himself. We set off in pursuit, observing a good deal of caution, for if he had turned, as was likely enough, and had come upon us while in such a frantic state, we should have had to bolt for our lives. I was thinking only of this when I saw the hunters talking together and gesticulating. I soon found out what was the matter. They told me that if the elephant kept on in the line he was taking, it would assuredly bring him in sight of the camp, if not straight upon it. As I had no doubt that he would in that case attack it, I put spurs to my horse at once, and dashed on at full speed in hopes of overtaking the elephant, and turning it, before it came within sight of the camp. I became more and more anxious as I neared the camp and found the elephant was still before me; then I heard two shots close together, and I could hear no others, and you may guess how relieved I was when I caught sight of the camp, and saw the natives gathered round something which was, I had no doubt, the elephant. I had feared that I should see the whole place in confusion, the waggons upset, and above all the tent levelled. Thank God, my dear boy, you are all safe! Now tell me all about it.”

  Dick related the circumstances, and Mr Harvey praised him highly for the promptness, coolness, and courage with which he had acted. Then he roundly abused the natives in their own language for their cowardly conduct.

  “Are you not ashamed of yourselves?” he asked; “what do you carry your arms for, if you are afraid to use them? Here are sixteen men, all with muskets, who run away in a panic, and leave one white lad to defend his wounded friend alone.”

  The reproaches of Mr Harvey were mild by the side of the abuse which the three hunters—for by this time Tony and Jumbo had reached the camp—lavished upon their compatriots.

  “What are you good for?” they asked scornfully; “you are fit only to be slaves to the Dutch; the master had better hire women to march with him; he ought to take your arms away, and to set you to spin.”

  Crestfallen as the natives were at their own cowardice, they were roused by the abuse of the hunters, and a furious quarrel would have ensued, had not Mr Harvey interposed his authority and smoothed matters down, admitting that the attack of the enraged elephant was really terrifying, and telling the natives that now they saw how well the white men could fight, they would no doubt be ready to stand by them next time.

  The hunters now proceeded to cut out the tusks of the elephant. When they did so the cause of the animal’s singular behaviour became manifest; a ball had struck him just at the root of the tusk, and had buried itself in one of the nerves there, no doubt causing excruciating pain.

  The tusks were grand ones, Mr Harvey saying that he had seldom seen a finer pair. The news of the slaughter of three elephants drew together a considerable number of natives, who were delighted to receive permission to carry off as much meat as they chose. When the greater portion of the flesh of the old bull had been removed, ten oxen were harnessed to the remains of the carcass, and it was dragged to a distance from camp, as Mr Harvey was desirous of remaining where he was for some days longer on Tom’s account, and the effluvia from the carcass would in a very short time have rendered the camp uninha
bitable had it remained in the vicinity.

  In a week Tom was convalescent; he was still, however, very stiff and sore. A hammock was therefore slung under the tilt of one of the waggons, the sides were drawn up to allow of a free passage of air, and the caravan then went forward on its journey.

  For the next fortnight nothing of importance happened; sometimes the journeys were short, sometimes extremely long, being regulated entirely by the occurrence of water. At many of the halting-places a good deal of trade was done, as the news of the coming of the caravan spread far ahead of it, and the natives for a considerable distance on each side of the line of route came down to trade with it. They brought with them skins of beasts and birds, small packets of gold-dust, ostrich feathers, and occasionally ivory. Mr Harvey was well content with his success so far.

  For some time past, owing to the disturbed state of the country and the demand for waggons occasioned by the war, the number of traders who had made their way north had been very small, and the natives consequently were eager to buy cotton and cloth, and to get rid of the articles which they had been accumulating for the purpose of barter with the whites. Never before, Mr Harvey said, had he done so good a trade in so short a time.

  At the end of the fortnight after starting Tom was again able to take his seat in the saddle and ride quietly along by the side of the caravan, Mr Harvey warning him on no account to go above a walking pace at present, as a jerk or a jar might break the newly-knit bones, and undo all the work that had been effected.

  In the meantime Dick, accompanied by one or other of the hunters, always rode out from the line of march, and had no difficulty in providing an ample supply of game. He was careful, however, not to shoot more than was required, for both he and Mr Harvey viewed with abhorrence the taking of life unnecessarily, merely for the purpose of sport. He was able, nevertheless, to kill a great many deer without feeling that their flesh was wasted; for not only were the number of mouths in the caravan large, and their powers of eating wonderful, but the natives who came in to trade were always glad to eat up any surplus that remained—and indeed Mr Harvey found the liberal distribution of meat opened their hearts and much facilitated trade.

  Two or three days after they had left the scene of the elephant-hunt some objects were seen far out on the plain, which the hunters at once pronounced to be ostriches. Dick would have started in pursuit, but Mr Harvey checked him.

  “They can run,” he said, “faster than a horse can gallop. They can indeed be ridden down, as they almost always run in a great circle, and the pursuit can be taken up with fresh horses, but this is a long business. We will send the hunters out first, to get on the other side of them, and when they are posted we will ride out. Going quite slowly the attention of the birds will be directed to us; this will give the hunters an opportunity of creeping up on the other side and shooting or lassoing them. If I am not mistaken they have a good many young ones with them—this is about the time of year when this is usually the case. If we could catch a dozen of them, they would be prizes, for they fetch a good sum down in the colony, where ostrich-farming is carried on on a large scale. They are very easily tamed, and would soon keep with the caravan and give no trouble.”

  After remaining quiet for some little time, to give the hunters time to make a wide circuit, Mr Harvey and Dick rode quietly forward towards the birds, who stood on a slight swell of ground at a distance of about half a mile, evidently watching the caravan with great interest.

  By Mr Harvey’s instructions Dick unrolled the blanket which he always carried on his saddle, and taking an end in each hand held it out at arm’s length on a level with the top of his head. Mr Harvey doing the same.

  “They are silly birds,” Mr Harvey said, “and their attention is easily caught by anything they don’t understand. Like all other wild creatures they are afraid of man; but by holding the blankets out like sails they do not see our outline, and cannot make out what the strange creatures advancing towards them can be.”

  At a foot-pace they advanced towards the ostriches; these made no signs of retreat until the horsemen approached to within about seventy yards. Then from the brow behind the birds the three hunters suddenly rose up, and whirling the balls of their lassoes round their heads launched them among the ostriches. Three birds fell with the cords twisted round their legs, and two more were shot as the startled flock dashed off at full speed across the plain. Mr Harvey and Dick dropped their blankets, and started at full gallop.

  “Bring down an old bird if you can, Dick, and then let the rest go, and give your attention to cutting off the young ones.”

  Dick fired at one of the old birds, but missed; Mr Harvey brought one to the ground. The young ostriches, which were but a few weeks old, soon began to tail off in the race, and after ten minutes’ riding Mr Harvey and Dick had the satisfaction of getting ahead of them and turning them. A little more driving brought the frightened creatures to a standstill, and most of them dropped in a squatting position to the ground, huddled together like frightened chickens. They were sixteen in number, but one which had fallen and broken its leg was at once shot. The legs of the young ostrich are extremely brittle, and one of the troubles of the farmers who rear them is that they so frequently break their bones and have to be killed.

  Blacking was sent off at his best speed to overtake the caravan and bring back a dozen men with him. The ostriches which had been lassoed had been at once killed by the hunters, and the feathers of the five killed by them and of that shot by Mr Harvey were pulled out. Three out of the six were in splendid plumage.

  “How much are each of those feathers worth?” Dick asked.

  “Those fine white ones will fetch from 1 pound to 1 pound 5 shillings apiece out here—some as high as 30 shillings. A perfect ostrich feather, fit for a court-plume, will sell in England for 3 pounds to 5 pounds. The small, dark-coloured feathers are worth from sixpence to one shilling apiece.”

  The young birds, after their wings had been tied to their sides, were lifted and carried away, Dick being unable to help laughing at their long legs sticking out in front of the bearers, and at their long necks and beaks, with which from time to time they inflicted sharp pecks on the men who were carrying them.

  When the caravan was overtaken, the birds were placed in a waggon, and in the evening were liberated inside the laager formed by the waggons. Some grain was thrown to them, and they soon began to pick this up. After this their expression was rather one of curiosity than fear, and they exhibited no alarm whatever when Dick, scattering some more corn, came in and moved quietly among them. For the first few days they were carried in a waggon, but at the end of that time they were completely domesticated. After the camp was formed they walked about, like barn-door fowls, picking up any scraps of food that were thrown to them, and indeed getting so bold as sometimes to attempt to snatch it from the men’s hands. When on the march, they stalked gravely along by the side of the waggons.

  “What is the value of an ostrich?” Dick asked Mr Harvey one day.

  “An ostrich of about three or four months old,” Mr Harvey replied, “is worth from 30 pounds to 50 pounds. A full-grown cock and two hens, the stock with which most small settlers begin ostrich-farming, are worth from 200 pounds to pounds. Each hen will lay about fifty eggs in a year, so that if only half are reared and sold at the rate of 20 pounds apiece, which is a low price, at three weeks old, there is a good profit upon them. The young birds increase in value at the rate of about 3 pounds per month. The feathers are generally sold by weight; fine plumes go from seventy to ninety to the pound, and fetch from 40 to 50 pounds. The feathers of the wild birds are worth a third more than those of the tame ones, as they are stronger. The quantity of feathers sold is astonishing. One firm in Port Elizabeth often buys 10,000 pounds’ weight of ostrich feathers per week. Of course these are not all first-class plumes, and the prices range down as low as 3 pounds, or 50 shillings for the poorest kind.”

  “Where do they get water out here in
the desert?”

  “They have no difficulty here,” Mr Harvey replied, “for an ostrich thinks nothing of going twenty or thirty miles; but they require to drink very seldom.”

  “How many feathers can be plucked from each bird a year?”

  “About three quarters of a pound of first-class feathers, besides the inferior sorts. There are now such quantities of ostriches in the colony, that the price of feathers has gone down materially, and is now not so high as the figures I have given you. The highest class feathers, however, still maintain their price, and are likely to do so, for the demand for feathers in Europe increases at as rapid a rate as does the production.”

  “I suppose they could not be kept in England?” Dick asked; “for there must be a splendid profit on such farming.”

  “No,” Mr Harvey replied; “they want above all things a dry climate. Warmth is of course important, but even this is less essential than dryness. They may be reared in England under artificial conditions, but they would never grow up strong and healthy in this way, and would no doubt be liable to disease—besides, as even in their native country you see that the feathers deteriorate in strength and diminish in value in domesticated birds, there would probably be so great a falling off in the yield and value of feathers in birds kept under artificial conditions in England that the speculation would not be likely to pay.”

  “Do the hens sit on their eggs, as ordinary hens?”

  “Just the same,” Mr Harvey answered, “and very funny they look with their long legs sticking out. Not only does the hen sit, but the cock takes his turn at keeping the eggs warm when the mother goes out to feed.”

  “I shall ask father,” Dick said, “when we get back, to arrange to take these fifteen ostriches as part of his share of the venture; it would be great fun to see them stalking about.”

  “Ah! we have not got them home yet,” Mr Harvey replied, smiling; “we must not be too sanguine. We have certainly begun capitally, but there is no saying what adventures are before us yet. We have been particularly fortunate in seeing nothing of the tzetze fly. As you know, we have made several considerable détours to avoid tracts of country where they are known to prevail, still, occasionally they are met with in unexpected places, and I have seldom made a trip without losing some of my horses and cattle from them.”