CHAPTER V.. After Buffaloes and Elands--a Fortunate

AFTER BUFFALOES AND ELANDS--A FORTUNATE SNAP-SHOT--ANOTHER HUNTER'S GAME.

The question now was whether we should continue our hunting on horseback or go on on foot. It is a very two-sided question, this one of hunting buffaloes on horseback or leaving the horses behind you. The horse gives you the advantage of making a rapid pursuit of your game when it is trying to run away, and with a good horse you can easily overtake a buffalo, if you have wounded him at all severely.

On the other hand, it is difficult, yes, practically impossible, to shoot from a horse's back with any sort of accuracy. You must dismount to shoot, and when you do so you necessarily lose a little time; and quite likely your horse is restive, and will jerk your arm just as you raise the rifle to your shoulder. Then, when you try to mount again, he will make it difficult for you to do so by pulling back on the bridle and acting ugly. Horses that are perfect hunters are very hard to find in Africa, and I do not believe the rest of the world is oversupplied with them. I have heard of a great many horses that would enter into the spirit of the chase, stand like rocks when their riders wished to fire, follow closely, always be ready to be mounted, and do everything else that the hunter might desire. I say I have heard of those horses, but they were always a long way off from where I was.

We decided that we would leave the horses under the tree, which was a conspicuous landmark, with two of the Kafirs to take care of them while we went on foot after the buffaloes.

Just as we were about starting, however, one of the natives reported a herd of elands about a mile to the south; whereupon Harry and Jack concluded to go after the elands, leaving the buffaloes to me. "It will diminish the chance of our hitting one another," said Harry, "which we might very likely do in the bushes where the buffaloes are; but there's less danger of that sort of trouble in the open country."

I assented to this suggestion, in which there was good sense, and remarked that it might make a variety in our stock of provisions for the next few days.

"Don't give all your attention to shooting bull-buffaloes," said Jack; "fetch down a yearling cow if you have the chance, as it will be better eating than the patriarchs of the herd."

"All right," I replied; "I'll endeavor to bring you in an assortment." And with that I started off, while they were getting their horses ready. I saw to it that I had plenty of ammunition, and Kalil was carrying my six-to-the-pound Remington, which I had cleaned up that morning.

When we reached the neighborhood of the buffaloes I filled my cartridge-belt and took my rifle from Kalil. Mirogo led the way, creeping along as cautiously as a cat--an animal which he resembled in more ways than one. I could hear the buffaloes tramping about in the bushes; they seemed to be considerably scattered, but evidently had not been disturbed recently.

The first of the buffaloes to come into my range of vision was a magnificent bull, who towered considerably above the bushes. Mirogo, who was a little distance ahead, called my attention to the animal and then dropped back behind me. I crept along until I had a good chance at the creature's shoulder, about twenty yards away. I fired, and my bullet told, as the buffalo gave a loud roar and then looked around in my direction. Immediately on firing I slipped behind a tree, and he did not, at first, perceive me. Mirogo and Kalil had also sought the protection of trees, and the animal was evidently puzzled to know where the shot came from. He threw his head in the air, snorted, and then started forward, coming straight to the tree where I was concealed.

When a buffalo's head is elevated in the way he usually carries it when on a trot, it affords slight chance for a shot. A bullet on the forehead is pretty sure to glance off, and if aimed at any other part of the head the result will be the same. About the only thing to do, provided no broadside is presented, is to crouch low to the ground and then aim at the animal's chest. If well planted, a chest-shot is a fatal, or, at any rate, a demoralizing one.

I had shoved a fresh cartridge into the rifle, and was ready for the beast when he came on. I crouched almost to the ground behind the tree, and when he was within about fifteen paces I let him have it in the chest. He fell forward with a plunge that brought him directly against the tree. I wiped the perspiration from my forehead, and did not venture to step out from my place of concealment for at least a minute. The buffalo has his tricks, as the reader already knows, and I wanted to be sure he was dead before I came within his reach.

I blew my whistle to summon my tracker and gun-bearer, and when they came--which was very quickly, as they were concealed close by--I had them pull the tail of the buffalo and otherwise test him. Then we marked the spot and went in pursuit of the rest of the herd.

Of course the shot had alarmed the other buffaloes, and they scattered about considerably. They were difficult to find, and for nearly half an hour we were uncertain in what direction to go. Mirogo and I held two or three consultations, and decided to push on toward the west, where the spoor showed that the animals had gone.

We worked our way along, and in a little while I had the pleasure of bringing down one of the yearling buffaloes of the kind that Jack suggested would be desirable. A single bullet sufficed for his case, as he gave me a good shot at short distance, and, besides, a yearling does not possess the strength and endurance of one of those old veterans such as I had first obtained.

During the excitement that immediately followed the shooting of this second buffalo I thought I heard the report of a gun a mile or so away to the westward. It was only a surmise, as we were just then tramping around in the bushes, and paying no attention to anything except what immediately surrounded us. I gave the subject not a moment's thought, and speedily forgot all about it, until a sudden and very unexpected circumstance brought it to my mind again.

One of the dangers of shooting in company, in addition to hitting one another, is that of coming unexpectedly upon an infuriated beast that has been wounded by somebody else than yourself. If you are following an animal wounded by yourself you will exercise proper caution, but no skill in the art of hunting, and no amount of caution, can protect you from the charge of an ugly animal that has been wounded by some other hunter. This has happened to me on several occasions, and it happened on the buffalo-hunt which I have just been describing.

We were going along through the forest peaceably enough, Mirogo leading the way and I following, with Kalil, carrying my gun, close at my heels. No buffaloes were in sight, and there was no occasion for me to be burdened with my rifle just at that moment.

Suddenly we heard a great crashing in the bushes twenty or thirty yards away, and out of them sprang an infuriated bull, who made directly at us.

Mirogo had just time to shout "Look out, sir!" when he sprang into a small tree; but there was no tree for me to spring into. I jumped to one side of the path, and at the same time brought my rifle around, which Kalil, with great presence of mind, had shoved into my hands the moment he heard the crash. I gave the buffalo a snap-shot just behind the left shoulder as he passed me, not having time to bring the weapon to an aim. It was one of the luckiest shots I ever planted, as it brought him, dead, to the ground.

The manner of this buffalo indicated that he had been wounded, and I was sure that he had not been wounded by me. It naturally occurred to me that our amazon neighbors had been trying their skill, and had been unsuccessful in bringing down their game, at least in this instance.

I told Mirogo to examine the buffalo for bullet-marks other than my own. He examined the body of the brute, and it turned out as I expected: the animal had been wounded, having received a bullet in the right shoulder.

It is a rule of the chase in Africa that, when several people are hunting together, the first shot is the counting one. If I fire at an animal and wound it, and it runs off in your direction, and you shoot and bring it down, the prize is mine, not yours. In some cases such a decision seems to be very unjust, but on a moment's reflection the reader will see that it is founded on justice. The first one who hits a creature disables it more or less, and through the disability that he creates the subsequent hunter or hunters are enabled to kill it.

I told Mirogo to mark the spot by attaching a rag to the tallest bush in the vicinity, and then continue in the same general direction we had been traveling. He acted accordingly, and we proceeded with our hunting, the impression being very strong on my mind that before we saw any more buffaloes we would pretty certainly meet the hunter who had planted the initial shot in the animal I had recently finished.

We went on for a mile or more without seeing or hearing anything. Then we came to a little mound, perhaps twenty feet in height, whose top gave us a view over the bushes for quite a distance. We ascended the mound and took a careful survey, knowing that if any buffaloes were in range of the spot we could not easily miss them.

Not a buffalo was in sight, but there was visible, two or three hundred yards away, a hunter with tracker and gun-bearer. I looked very carefully at the hunter, and speedily saw that it was none of our party. As the stranger came nearer I perceived that it was not the fair one whom I met the day before, but was dressed in precisely the same manner, and the movements and general appearance told me it was a woman.

"Aha!" I said to myself, "I think I am about to meet Mrs. Roberts. Miss Boland is at the camp with a headache--no, let me think! Africa is no place for headaches such as women complain of in civilized lands. Perhaps the two are hunting together, and are working the buffalo-herd from opposite sides. She continues to come this way, so I presume she has no objection to meeting me. Miss Boland evidently gave me a good character when she got back to camp. Perhaps she didn't mention me at all; may have considered the incident, and the man, too trivial to refer to. However, I'll descend from the mound and meet the lady, who quite likely will ask if I've seen any buffaloes belonging to her."

I descended from the mound and moved in the direction of the stranger. I saluted respectfully, raising my hat as I did so, and remarking that it was a fine day for hunting. What a blessing the weather is for breaking the ice in a conversation!

"Yes," was the response of the stranger, "it is a fine day for hunting, or for a promenade, and what more agreeable promenade can there be than in the forest at this time?"

"I certainly know of nothing to surpass it," I replied, "and it is my fondness for the sport that brought me to this part of the world. But let me come from generalities to particulars: have you wounded a buffalo this morning?"

"Yes," was the reply, "I have killed one and wounded another. I'm afraid I'm not a first-class shot, as I ought to have brought down the last buffalo I fired at; he was not more than twenty yards away, and I had an excellent chance at him."

"What did you aim for?"

"I tried to aim just back of the right foreshoulder, but from the way he went off I don't think I hit him there; perhaps did not hit him at all."

"It is my pleasure to inform you," said I, "that your game is secure. I heard your shot, and a little while afterward a buffalo came in my direction. He came crashing through the bushes, and charged directly at me. I was fortunate enough to be able to bring him down--fortunate in more ways than one, as he would have brought me down with a vengeance if I had not done so."