CHAPTER VI.. A Disputed Prize--Rule of African Hunting--Mrs. Roberts.

A DISPUTED PRIZE--RULE OF AFRICAN HUNTING--MRS. ROBERTS.

"I congratulate you," said the fair stranger; "but how are you certain that it was the buffalo I fired at?"

I explained that my tracker had examined the animal and found the wound in the shoulder, as already described. I then mentioned the rule of the chase, of which the reader knows, and told the lady that I surrendered all claim to the prize. As I did so I said, again raising my hat, "I presume I have the honor of addressing Mrs. Roberts?"

"I am Mrs. Roberts," she replied, with a smile; "but how did you know me?"

I explained briefly about my meeting with Miss Boland, and that she informed me of the name of her hunting-companion and the location of their camp, or, at least, its general direction. The lady appeared somewhat surprised, though not altogether so, and I was unable to make out from her manner whether Miss Boland had told her about encountering me in the forest, or had failed to mention the matter in any way.

I then told her my name and where our party was encamped. I offered to conduct her to the spot where her buffalo had met his death, and she assented to the proposition. Her gun-bearer was close at her heels, just as Kalil was close to mine. I told Mirogo to lead the way, and he and the other tracker showed the direction, keeping a short distance in our front. I was in no hurry to reach the spot, but thought my companion was quite willing to have the interview come to an end as soon as convenient. We conversed on hunting-topics, and altogether the conversation was an agreeable one, at least to me.

In all her talk the lady bore herself very modestly, and seemed inclined to give the credit of superior hunting-ability to Miss Boland. She magnified the exploits of her companion and depreciated those of herself.

"Miss Boland," said she, "is a fine hunter in the saddle, which I am not. It is about as much as I can do to attend to the horse and keep on his back, to say nothing of loading a rifle while going at full speed, or dismounting to take a shot. A few days ago," said she, "we chased a herd of elands. Miss Boland brought down the leader of the herd; she had a hard ride for it, and I thought she would have to give it up; but she stuck to it until she got right alongside the eland, and shot him from the saddle. I brought up the rear a good distance away, and did not get near enough for a shot with the longest-range rifle that ever was made. It is proper to say, though, that Miss Boland had a much better horse than I had; it isn't possible to get the speed out of my animal that she can out of hers. We started out on our expedition with three horses apiece, but we've lost one of them, and two others are not in serviceable condition."

"You haven't been in the tsetse-fly country, have you?" I asked.

"No, we haven't as yet," she answered, "and we're deliberating whether to go there or not. We have been told that there's some fine buffalo-hunting up in the fly country, and want to go there; but of course if we do we must leave our horses behind, or be put to the pain of seeing them die."

I may as well explain to the reader that the tsetse-fly is one of the scourges of certain parts of Africa. It is about the size of the common house-fly, or a little larger, and is harmless to horned cattle and donkeys, and also harmless to the human race; but, to use a slang expression, it is "death on horses." The bite of a tsetse-fly causes the death of a horse in a very short time; the skin swells enormously, great festering sores follow, and no remedy has yet been found for the bite. The valleys of certain rivers and lakes are infested with these flies, while other parts of the country are entirely free from them. Sometimes they are found on one side of a river but not on the other, and the alternations of heat and cold do not seem to have any effect in driving them away.

We had quite a talk about the flies, and speculated as to the reason why some animals were attacked and others exempt. Other travelers have speculated on the same subject before and since, but I presume their investigations had no more practical result than ours did.

"Our foreman told us," said Mrs. Roberts, "that up in the fly country there were great herds of buffaloes--thousands of animals in a herd--and that this was about the time for attacking them. I don't think we are quite equal to one of the large herds, but after the other hunters have gone in and broken them up we might attack some of the stragglers."

I was able to tell the lady something about that style of hunting, as I had been engaged in it the previous year. "A party of us formed a camp on a little stream called the Gumban; then we sent out native hunters in all directions to visit the drinking-places of the buffaloes, find the large troops of the animals, and break them up. The buffaloes form into these troops in the summer and get broken up in the winter by the hunters. We were lucky enough to find one of the largest troops, which was known to the natives as the 'dust-raiser.' It was several days before we struck the herd, but when we did we had lively work. My first experience with one of that herd was something to remember."

"I would like very much to hear about it," said Mrs. Roberts, "if you have no objection to telling me."

"Oh, not at all," I replied; "on the contrary, it will give me great pleasure. It was a very brief affair, as I came suddenly upon the animal when he was standing under a tree. I was not aware that any buffalo was about, and was carrying a rifle loaded for koodoo. My gun-bearer was behind me with my large rifle, and I quickly exchanged one for the other. I took a shot at the buffalo, but it was not sufficient to bring him down. He turned and charged upon me; I dodged behind a tree, and as he went past and was turning to come back at me I gave him a second shot which laid him low.

"Half an hour after that," said I, "I met my friend Harry, who was of our hunting-party, and when he caught sight of me he came forward on a run. He said he had wounded a buffalo and it had retreated into a very disagreeable place--into a thorn-thicket, where it was not easy to follow. He proposed that we should get on opposite sides of the thicket--which was not very large--and then send our trackers in to drive the animal out.

"I had a quiet laugh to myself," I continued, "because I saw a very large defect in his scheme. The thicket was not far off, and we went to it; but when Harry suggested that the trackers should go inside they demurred emphatically. There was a tall tree at the side of the thicket, and I proposed that Harry should climb that tree with the aid of his tracker, and from that point he would be able to see his game; I would stand at the foot of a tree at the opposite side of the thicket, and be prepared to meet the animal in case it came out at that point.

"Harry acted according to my suggestion, and after reaching an elevation of about thirty feet he called out that he could see the buffalo distinctly. Then he gave it a shot, and it looked around very much surprised, not knowing whence it was assaulted. Another shot followed, and then the beast made a break outside the thicket close to my position. I managed to lay it low, and then I shouted to Harry that he could descend from his perch."

"I've been telling Miss Boland," said Mrs. Roberts, "that a good way to shoot buffaloes--certainly a safe way--would be to climb a tree and shoot from a secure place in the limbs. She answers me that it is not a fair way of fighting, and nowhere near as exciting as the way in which the buffalo is usually hunted. I presume she is right; in fact, I know she is. She is braver than I am, and takes risks in hunting that I am unwilling to take."

"I don't think there can be any question of your bravery, Mrs. Roberts," I replied, "after what I have seen this morning. You certainly took your chances with that buffalo, and I'll warrant you've done the same before. You have dodged behind trees and perhaps have climbed them, just as many a man has done in this African shooting."

"Oh yes," she said, with a laugh, "I'm not by any means without experience in hunting-risks, only I think it would be just as well for all of us if we consulted our safety a little more, and had some regard for the possibilities of getting back to our homes in due course of time."

"Very few people think of safety when they set out on a hunting-excursion," I replied. "Of course they consider the question a little when face to face with big game, and I don't think there would be any difference between men and women on that score. A cool head is requisite at all times, and any one who cannot command that should not venture into the hunting-field where the quarry is a dangerous one."

"I agree with you there," the lady responded, "and that's where our sex is decidedly at a disadvantage."

"How so?" I asked, with an air of wonder and surprise.

"Oh, you know perfectly well," said she, "that it's a habit of women to faint in presence of danger, and what would become of a fainting woman before an infuriated buffalo or elephant? I'm afraid it would be her last hunt."

"Yes, I am afraid of that too," I replied; "but I think you do injustice to your sex. Women generally faint after the danger is over, if they faint at all; as long as the peril is present they are as nervy as the sterner sex. Of course that's not the invariable rule, but I think it's so in the majority of cases."

"Thank you for the compliment," she answered; "perhaps we'll have a chance to discuss this subject further. Here we are at your buffalo."

"I beg pardon, madam; not my buffalo--your buffalo."

"Oh now," she answered, "I think it belongs to you; never mind about the rule of South African hunting, as the animal had escaped me entirely, and I should never have seen it again or heard from it but for you. You had a narrow risk of your life when you brought it down."

I insisted that the animal was her prize, and that it was not proper to violate the laws of the country. "There isn't much law here," I added, "except that of custom, and nothing can be more binding than an established rule."

"Well, if you insist upon it," she replied, "rather than violate the practice of the country I will accept the prize as mine, and in doing so I thank you most heartily for the share you took in obtaining it for me. Perhaps I may have the pleasure of returning the service some time--no, stop! it isn't fair to suppose that you ever miss a shot, and consequently I should never have the opportunity."

"There never yet was a hunter," I answered--"at least I've never heard of one--who was invariably successful in his pursuit of game, especially of large game. Even such mighty nimrods as Gordon Cumming, Sir Samuel Baker, and others whose names you know, have many stories to tell of game that escaped, not only after one, but after many bullets."

"That's true," she replied; "and I remember how Cumming returned on several occasions after an entire day in pursuit of elephants without securing a single one. Instead of being disheartened at the result it only nerved him to further exertion, and he persisted in the chase until he had made a good record."

Then, suddenly looking at the sky, the fair hunter asked me if I could give a guess as to what time it was. I may remark that it is not customary to carry a watch in one's pocket when out after buffaloes or elephants; the African hunter generally takes his time by the position of the sun or by rough-and-tumble guesswork.

"I think it is along in the neighborhood of noon," I answered--"certainly within an hour of it."

"Thank you, thank you very much," she responded; then she paused and surveyed the horns of her prize, and seemed to forget my presence entirely.

I took this as a hint that I had better be going; so, raising my hat, I said, "I bid you good-day, madam, and hope I may have the pleasure of meeting you again, and possibly of helping secure for you another prize like this."