Читать книгу The Vee-Boers: A Tale of Adventure in Southern Africa - Reid Mayne - Страница 7

As the danger seemed averted, and there seemed no likelihood of its recurrence, most of the young Boers drew up around the fallen buffaloes, and dismounted to gralloch and skin them. Three, however, who had become excited beyond restraint, kept to their saddles, and went after the retreating herd. This trio of implacable pursuers were Piet Van Dorn, the eldest son of Jari; Andries Blom, a nephew of Hans; a son of Klass Rynwald; all three nearly of an age. But between the two first there had long been rivalry as to which was the more accomplished hunter, with rivalry of another sort presently to be spoken of.

Their horses being of lighter hoof than the heavy bovines, they were not long in again coming up with the latter; each, soon as within shot-range, singling out one, and delivering his fire. But only two of the 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 off alone.

But it was not to escape thus, at least unpursued. Rather than it should, Piet Van Dorn would have ridden his horse to death, and almost to dying himself. His hunter pride was touched, and something more. What would Katharine Rynwald say – what think – on hearing that he had fired and failed to bring down the thing fired at – he alone of all the three? And she would be sure to hear of it; ay, be told of it within the hour. The cynical and satisfied smile on Andries Blom’s face, as he saw the wounded buffalo bound away, seemingly but little hurt, was sure promise that the fair Katharine would come to know all about it. So without waiting to say a word to the other two, Van Dorn reined round to the left, and pressed his horse to top speed, reloading his gun as he galloped.

Perhaps young Rynwald would have followed to lend him a helping hand, but for Blom. The latter did not want that buffalo killed; instead, he hoped with all his heart that it might still escape. And to give it a better chance, he cried out to the brother of Katharine, who bore his father’s name —

“Klass! let us two follow the drove, and bring down another couple, so that the camp people may have plenty of meat – dogs and all. We mayn’t have such a chance for months.”

Thus appealed to, Klass thought no more about helping Van Dorn, but dashed on after the other, who had already started in pursuit of the herd. They did not again come up with it, however; but that signified little to Andries Blom.

Meanwhile, Piet Van Dorn, who inherited all his father’s hunting instincts, with much of his prowess, was doing his best to overtake the wounded bull. For a bull it was, and of immense size; apparently the patriarch of the herd it had so unaccountably forsaken. This had caused the young hunter some surprise; and he was also surprised, as well as chagrined, at his first shot not having brought the bull down. For he had aimed at a vital part, with excellent opportunity, and could not account for his having missed. True, it was not altogether a miss, though not much better, the buffalo seeming but little hurt as it careered 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 its death shot. Only to see, with chagrin greater than ever, that though he had made a hit, it was not a kill. Indeed, so far from the bull being further disabled, he but seemed to gather fresh strength, and with a loud bellow and angry toss of the head, continued on at a heightened speed.

But the pursuit was continued too; for with Piet Van Dorn it was now do or die. Not for worlds would he have allowed that buffalo to escape him; and, once more appealing to the speed of his horse, as he rammed another cartridge down the barrel of his gun, he followed at his fastest. It was a tail-on-end chase, prolonged for nearly another league, before the pursuer thought himself near enough to send another shot at the pursued. He did so at length, hearing his bullet hit with a dull thud, as it buried itself in the flesh of the great bovine. Still the animal fell not, neither staggered, though it made no attempt to run on. The third shot produced an effect in it quite different from the two former, and, instead of further retreat, it stopped short, wheeled round, 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 wide out of the way. And he was in the act of doing so, had half reined round, 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 declared itself by a peal of unearthly laughter ringing loud in his ears, while at the same time he saw the creature that sent it up. His horse had gone knee-deep into the hole of a “laughing hyena,”23 out of which the ugly brute now bounding ran off affrightedly over the veldt, as it went emitting its wild, weird cachinnations as the cries of a maniac fresh escaped from some lunatic asylum. All, too, as if in mockery at the hunter’s mishap!

The horse was in no way injured, though, perhaps, better for his rider if he had been, for, on regaining his legs, which he instantly did, the triple scare he had got, from the oncoming of the buffalo, his own tumble, and the screams of the hyena, was too much for him, and he broke off in wild stampede, leaving his master to look out for himself.

For some seconds Piet Van Dorn felt dismay, even to fearing death. The infuriated bull was fast nearing him, with head lowered, and horns set to crush or impale him. In another moment he might receive the fatal shock to know no more. For although he was also uninjured, and again upon his feet, there was no hope for him to escape by flight, and his gun was empty; nor was there aught near to afford him shield or shelter. A look cast despairingly around revealed the veldt smooth and level for miles in every direction. Some bushes there were, with here and there a straggling tree, but none seemingly of sufficient size for climbing. At a last glance, however, he caught sight of one branched to the ground, and with a full, dense foliage. It might afford at least a temporary concealment, and without staying to think further, he made for it at lightning speed. Luckily it was in his line of retreat, and as no time was 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 inspection of the tree, he saw it had two trunks, either of which would bear his weight up to ten or twelve feet above the ground. But there was a per contra, which acted as a damper to his joy, on his perceiving that both were beset with sharp spines. For it was a doorn-boom 24 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 eat the hatchet,” a choice between horns and thorns, and Piet Van Dorn preferred laceration by the latter, to facing certain death by the former. So throwing his arm around the largest of the twin trunks he commenced swarming up, regardless of the thorns tearing into his flesh, even undismayed by the hissing of a boom-slang 25 which with neck craned out threatened him from a branch above. But his resolution to climb had been too late. Scarce were his feet well off the ground when he experienced a shock that sent him sprawling back upon it, a concussion 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 from the tree, bruised and bleeding. But where was the buffalo-bull? Raising himself on elbow, he looked all round; but no buffalo was in sight, nor quadruped of any kind. His own horse, with the hyena, had long since disappeared, and now also the horned bovine; he himself seemingly the only living, breathing thing over all that wilderness of veldt.