CHAPTER IX
A LION'S CHARGE
They turned in very early after banking up leaves over the fires under the biltong strips, to give them a good smoking during the night, but in the small hours, when the night is at its quietest, the moonlight, shining on Venning's face, woke him. The fires were glowing bright, altogether too bright for safety, and he rose to cover the glare with some green leaves. He looked at his sleeping companions, for all, tired out by disturbed nights, slept on, except the jackal, which had one eye open.
Venning sat awhile looking down upon the dim uncertain shadows that came and went, as a fleecy mist-like cloud passed overhead. Beyond the fitful murmur of the wind there was no sound but the hooting of a great homed owl somewhere from the woods above. Drawing his blanket round him, and picking up his gun, he walked to a point on the right overlooking the bed of the little river, and there he sat down with his back to a rock and his gun over his knees. Scarcely was he seated when the jackal startled him by its sudden appearance at his side. He scratched its ears, and it sat close to him, staring fixedly down on the river. Just below there was a stretch of sand in the bed gleaming white under the moonlight, and Venning watched this with the eye of a naturalist, in the hope of seeing some of the great forms of animal life. And he had his hope, for several creatures crossed the white patch, and each time the jackal was the first to see them. The round ears would suddenly prick forward, the sharp nose would twitch, and then Venning would dimly discover something down there in the uncertain light. A porcupine he made out, its quills gleaming and rustling as it went down to the water; then a great wart-pig with curved tusks; and next, after a long interval, a fine buck with long powerful horns. A water-buck he judged it to be from the length of its horns, and it stood there long with its face up-stream, motionless, save for the constant twitching of the large ears. He rested his elbows on his knees as he sat and aimed at the shoulders, but did not fire, for fear of alarming the camp; and presently the buck, even as he watched, vanished as softly and silently as it came. Then Venning's eyes closed, his chin dropped, the gun settled between his knees, and he was asleep.
He was asleep, and he was awake again so suddenly that he did not know he had slept until he saw the position of the gun. The jackal plucked at his blanket. He remembered that something had disturbed him, and he judged that the jackal had done the same thing just before. He yawned and patted its head; but, instead of sitting down, it ran a few yards, sniffed the air, whined, came back, glanced long over its shoulder into the riverbed, looked into Venning's face, then ran off in the direction of the camp. As soon as it was gone Venning felt lonely. He stood up, thinking to return to the camp, then sat down again, for he heard the sharp stamp that an antelope makes when alarmed, and he hoped to see it come into the moonlight. So he settled down to watch again, and drowsiness fell upon his eyes. He could see the white patch of sand, and as his heavy lids were lowered and lifted between the drowsy intervals, he became dimly conscious that there was something on the sand. Yes; there it was, something grey, short, and thick. A donkey, he told himself. He smiled sleepily. A donkey! It was strange to see the old familiar form out there in the wilderness. He wondered dreamily where it came from; then a shadow cast by the moon on a passing cloud blotted out the river-bed. He rubbed his eyes, and when the cloud had gone there were two animals—donkeys, unmistakably—one larger than the other, both with their heads turned upwards towards him. Another cloud sailed by, and when it had passed he missed them, and, his curiosity roused, he rubbed his eyes again for a closer scrutiny. Surely that was not a bush on the bank? No! it moved. The donkeys were coming towards him. One of them, the larger, moved forward quickly, then stopped. Then a chill ran through him, his heart grew weak, his breathing grew sharp, and the sweat suddenly started out all over his face and body. That was no donkey standing there, with its huge head now sunk almost to the ground, now lifted high, as it tried to make out what manner of living creature it was crouching there by the rock above!
Venning felt the hair stir on his head as the two animals stood gazing at him, and then he knew. The one behind sank to the ground, and with long steps began to creep round to the right. The moon struck along its side, and showed the tawny hide and the whitish under-parts of a lioness. The other, then, was a lion! With a sort of gurgling in his throat he turned his eyes to it, and he saw it trotting up straight for him, its shaggy mane giving to its head and shoulders an enormous size. He felt spell-bound, incapable of moving hand or foot. It was the silence of the ferocious beasts that paralyzed him. Then the jackal howled behind him, and his blood rushed through his veins. His tongue no longer clave to the roof of his mouth, and when the great beast was within ten yards of him, he let forth a terrific yell and jumped to his feet, with his rifle in his hands.
The lion stopped suddenly in its charge with a low harsh grunt of surprise. Never before in its hunting had it heard such a wild uncanny noise. In one motion it stopped in its charge and swerved to the right, and as it swerved the boy fired. The lion gave a mighty bound, he heard it strike the ground with a heavy thud, and then it seemed to disappear, though he knew it was near from the low growling it set up.
From the camp there came a confused shouting, followed by the sound of a man running.
Venning moistened his lips. "Look out," he shouted, "there is a lion here."
"Where are you?"
"Here, by this rock."
"Stay there, and keep quite still."
The growling increased, and once more the same paralysis attacked the boy so that he could scarcely breathe. Then some one stood at his side, and the fear went from him at once.
"He's over there, somewhere; but I can't see him."
"I can. Get round the rock, my boy. He's lying flat with his head between his paws, and it's a mercy you did not fire again and draw his charge."
Venning moved round the rock, and Mr. Hume slowly followed. He stopped awhile to listen to the incessant growling.
"You've hit him, but not, I think, mortally; anyway, we'll leave him, if he will leave us. Move on towards the camp quietly—don't run."
"No, sir," said Venning; but it required an effort not to make a bolt for it when he saw the friendly gleam of the fire.
Mr. Hume followed slowly, with his head over his shoulder, towards the place where the growling came from. When he reached the fire he gave a great sigh of relief.
"Thank God. Now tell us what happened, my boy;" and he put his hand on Venning's arm.
Venning started violently, for just then from the river there came a harsh, growling call; and no sooner had it ceased than the ground shook to a terrific roar.
"The lion answers the lioness," said the chief, calmly.
"Throw a little wood on the fire, Muata. Now, my lad."
Venning told his story, and Compton listened with intense excitement; but the hunter treated the whole thing calmly, with set purpose. He had in his experience seen the effect of a terrible shock, in the complete breakdown of the victim, and, personally, he had known one man die from the shock to his system caused exactly by the sudden and unexpected appearance of a lion at night. He kept Venning's thoughts off the mental picture of the charging lion until dawn, when all hands prepared for the hunt.
"If you hit him hard he will be lying near, and I guess it will be a different matter meeting him by daylight—eh, my lad?"
Venning looked into the hunter's calm eyes, and felt strong. He went straight to the rock against which he had crouched, and pointed to the deep scars made in the hard ground by the sharp claws as the lion had stopped his charge and wheeled.
Compton measured the distance from the rock to the claw-marks.
"Fifteen feet! By Jove! it was a narrow squeak. I would have yelled like fits."
"I did yell."
Muata pointed to the ground.
"Blood spoor, eh? You did hit him. Put the jackal on the track, chief," said Mr. Hume.
The jackal took one sniff at the ground, stared sharply around, then peered up into his master's face.
"Search," said the chief, in his own tongue. "Follow the great one, O little friend. The trail is laid; the great one has sought out a moist spot; he lies angry and sore in the shade. Search and find."
The jackal looked intently into the chiefs face, sniffed at the ground, ran forward a few yards, stopped, sniffed again with lifted mane at a spot where the grass was pressed down, threw up his head with eyes half closed, then ran down towards the river, stopping on the bank to look back.
"That is where he joined his mate. There is the spoor on the sand going and returning. That is the round pad of the lion; just note and compare it with the pads of the lioness over there. Just look, and read the writing."
The two boys looked at the marks in the sand, and followed them down to the moist ground on the edge of the water.
"They entered the river side by side," they said.
"That is plain; but the writing tells another story. See, this footprint here is faint—very faint, eh? He did not rest his weight on his left fore-foot. Why, eh?"
"Because the bullet struck the left front leg," they both said.
"They learn the signs, Muata. They will be hunters yet. Tell them if the lion be hard hit, chief."
Muata waded into the river, which reached to his armpits at the deepest, and bent over something on the further shore. They undressed, and waded through to him.
"Congela," he said, pointing to the bank. "The great ones came out here. The great, great one was not sore hurt, for he came right through, using all his feet to swim."
"It will be luck, then, if we find him," said the hunter.
"Bad luck," muttered Compton to Venning, with a grin.
"Forward, little friend!" cried Muata. "Search and find. It is a great hunt this day. We follow the hunter of all things."
They slipped into their clothes and followed at a trot after the jackal, which ran straight on, its bushy tail held low. It followed the river down for a mile or so, then stopped, looking back at its master.
Mr. Hume and the chief stood silently inspecting the hard ground, then they walked on a few yards. The same thoughts seemed to come to each, as the boys judged from their actions; for from the ground their eyes ranged over the land, then were turned skywards. Muata pointed a finger at a ringed crow flying with bent head.
"They killed," said Mr. Hume.
"Oh!! They killed."
"You see," said the hunter to the two boys, "the pair crouched here; these circular marks in the sand were made by the swing of the tails. They sighted game. One of them—the lioness, no doubt—worked round to drive the game towards the lion."
"It is a guess," said Compton. "Perhaps the lion stopped because of his hurt."
"No; the bleeding has stopped. They not only sighted game, but the lioness drove it from the river-bed towards the lion, and the lion brought it down."
"Oh, come," said Compton. "How can you tell that?"
"From the spoor"—laconically. "He sprang twice—here, where he alighted the first time; and the second spring landed him on to the neck of an antelope powerful enough to struggle on into that thicket of reeds. There the two of them pulled it down."
"And there he is!" shouted Venning.
He pointed to the right of the reeds, and there was a great yellowish beast walking away at a slow walk, with its head sunk.
"The lioness," said the hunter. "Venning, keep by me, but a little behind. Compton, when I whistle, fire into the reeds."
Compton nodded his head, and the two went off, while Muata sat down as a spectator.
Mr. Hume walked steadily up to within fifty paces of the reeds on the upper side, then whistled. Immediately Compton fired.
The lion was there. He signified his presence by a low growl, but he did not move. Compton fired again, and this time the reeds shook, and a great shaggy head appeared, with its yellow eyes fixed on the boy. Mr. Hume made a slight noise, and the great head turned at once in his direction. For a moment the lion exchanged glances, then with a growl he turned into the reeds to reappear further on, going slowly in the direction of the lioness.
"It is your shot, Godfrey; take him just behind the shoulder."
Venning's heart was thumping against his ribs; but he steadied himself for the shot, and fired. The lion sprang forward, snarling, and faced about towards his enemies. Then up went his tail, and with a savage growl he charged straight down to within about thirty feet, when he stood for a moment, as is the way of the charging lion if his enemy stands fast. The pause was enough; and before the huge muscles of the flanks and backs could be set in motion to hurl the great body forward, a bullet, crashing into his breast, laid him out helpless in the throes of death.
"Your first lion, Godfrey."
"But you killed him," said Venning, pulling himself together with a great effort; for he had been through a very severe ordeal.
"The first hit counts. See here, your bullet last night struck him above the elbow, just missing the bone, and your second shot hit him low down in the ribs."
"My word," said Compton, as he came up, his eyes blazing with excitement, "it was grand to see that charge. Yes, and to see how you two stood. My heart was in my mouth."
"It's a simple shot," said the hunter. "All you have to do is to keep perfectly cool and wait for the lion to come to his stand."
"Very easy," muttered Compton, with a grimace, as he looked at the white fangs and the cruel-looking claws, finishing off that mighty weapon the lion's forearm, capable of battering in a man's head at one blow.
The chief stood looking from the lion to the hunter. "Ye be brothers," he said, "ye two; both great men of the hunt; chiefs by your own right wherever you go."
"When I was young," said Mr. Hume, "I shot lions for the pride of the victory; but long since I gave that up, and only when a lion seeks me have I gone out to kill him."
"Ye be brothers," said the chief. "The great one stands alone, for he is merciful in his strength. The spotted one kills for the love of killing. He will kill, if the chance comes, many times more than he can eat. The warrior will slay of his enemies all his spear can reach. The great one eats and is satisfied. The rest may live till he be hungry. I know, for I have met him face to face in the path. I say to him, '''Inkose' (chief), the path is yours.' I have stood aside, and the 'inkose' has gone on his way in peace.'
"If you carried a rifle, chief, it might be otherwise. Take the claws, Venning; we cannot find room for the skin."
The claws were cut off, and they returned to the camp for breakfast.