Chapter Four.
I start upon my great Adventure.
In the privacy of my own room that night, after I had parted from the major, I gave my most careful consideration to the suggestion which he had thrown out; and despite the gruesome fate of the Dutchman, Van Raalte, at the hands of the Mashonas, which my host had hinted at rather than described, the project decidedly appealed to me. It is true that I possessed no personal knowledge of the Mashonas, but I had an idea that, in essentials, they would probably resemble pretty closely the Zulus, of whom I knew something; and, if so, I could understand not only their treatment of Van Raalte—and of my friend Henderson too, as Van Raalte’s companion and partner—but also that it might be quite possible for a white man possessed of a certain amount of tact and a tolerably comprehensive knowledge of the nature of the South African savage to enter their country and leave it again in safety.
That there was gold in Mashonaland was news to me; for although I had once or twice heard the general opinion casually expressed that South Africa would perhaps some day be found to be rich in minerals, I had never until now heard of the precious metal having actually been found, and I felt sure that, had such a rumour ever gained currency, not even the formidable reputation of the Mashonas would have sufficed to prevent a rush of prospectors into the country. No such rush had ever occurred, for, if it had, the news of it would have spread like wildfire, and every individual in the colony, to its most remote outskirts, would have heard of it. The fact, therefore, that no rush had occurred was conclusive proof that my friend Henderson was the sole repository of the momentous secret, which he had contrived to keep strictly to himself all those years. And now at last he had imparted it to me, and I was free to go up there, if I pleased, and acquire a fortune. True, there was a certain element of risk and danger in the project, for there were a thousand miles or more to be traversed through a roadless, savage country, of which little or nothing was then known except that it was infested by several of the most ferocious species of animals and reptiles, as well as millions of even more ferocious natives. And during a journey of a thousand miles through such a country almost anything was possible. But the spice of danger attaching to the journey appealed to me as an attraction rather than a deterrent; I should enjoy some of the finest sport that the world had to offer, and, with luck, might return a wealthy man. These alone were sufficient inducements; but there was another and still stronger one, which was—Nell Lestrange. She was so young at the time of her abduction, was so young still, that I hoped nothing very terrible had thus far happened to her; but it was unthinkable that a white girl should be permitted to grow up to womanhood among savages, and I was not altogether without the hope that during the progress of my journey I might be able to ascertain her whereabouts and effect her rescue. With so many strong inducements in favour of Henderson’s suggestion, and only one—that comprised in the element of danger and uncertainty—against it, it is not to be wondered at that before I slept that night I had definitely decided to act upon the major’s advice and undertake the journey.
This decision I duly communicated to my host on the following morning over the breakfast table, and thereupon we proceeded forthwith to discuss details. The major was of opinion that I ought to begin my preparations forthwith, for the season was rapidly advancing; it was then precisely the right time to start upon an up-country trek, for the rainy season was over, the rivers were low and everywhere fordable, and the young spring grass was at its best and richest. On the other hand, the dry season had set in, water would every day be growing more scarce, the grass more parched, and the ground harder; in a word, there was not a moment to lose if I desired to avail myself to the fullest possible extent of all the advantages of the season.
Having agreed upon this, we passed on to the consideration of ways and means, and Henderson proceeded to jot down rapidly a list of the various items which he deemed absolutely indispensable, supplementing it with another and much shorter list of further items which, although not positively necessary, would be highly desirable if the available funds would permit. Then the estimated cost of the several items, both indispensable and desirable, was jotted down, and the conclusion was finally arrived at that, if the various purchases were carefully made, the available money ought just about to suffice for the indispensables, with the possibility that, if luck attended me, one or two desirables might also be included. It is due to my friend the major to say that when the total of his original estimate was ascertained, and found to exceed the amount of my capital, he at once offered to advance me such further funds as might be needed to complete my equipment; but I gratefully yet steadfastly refused to avail myself of his generous offer, feeling that I had no right to risk the property of another. Then we sallied forth and proceeded to make our purchases, beginning with the wagon and team of oxen, and then proceeding with the remainder of the items until the resources of Somerset East were exhausted. The ammunition was the most important item of all, and I had early foreseen that it would be necessary to send down to Port Elizabeth for that. I did so, therefore, instructing the dealer to wrap the one-pound flasks of powder separately in waterproof paper, pack them in half-dozens in soldered-up tins, and enclose the whole in a stout wooden case, by which means I hoped to preserve effectually my entire stock of powder from the ordinary accidents of travel in a country subject at certain seasons to torrential downpours of rain, and intersected at pretty frequent intervals by rivers deep enough to flood a wagon during its passage across. The case of powder, which also contained the necessary complement of wads and percussion caps, arrived at Somerset East exactly a fortnight after the dispatch of the order for it, by which time the remainder of my preparations were completed. Nothing therefore remained but to bid my numerous friends goodbye and make a start forthwith.
I suppose it is hardly necessary to state that, when discussing the forthcoming expedition with my various friends, I carefully abstained from all mention of the word “gold”. The major and I let it be understood that I was going to try my hand at elephant hunting as a business, and many were the valuable hints which I received from one and another as to the spots where I should be most likely to find the biggest herds. The last embers of the war were still smouldering in the north-eastern districts of the colony when I was ready to start, but everybody was of opinion that all was quite quiet in the north; therefore, instead of striking eastward and working north along the low land between the Drakensberg range and the sea, as I had at first intended, I decided to strike right away north at once between the Tandjes Berg and Great Winter Berg mountains, across the Zour Bergen, and so over the Orange River and right through the very heart of what is now known as the Orange River Colony and the Transvaal, but was then a practically unknown wilderness.
Behold me, then, trekking out from Somerset East about ten o’clock on a certain glorious mid-October morning, accompanied by a brand-new, well-loaded wagon drawn by a team of sixteen “salted” oxen—that is to say, oxen immune to the terrible lung sickness which is the bane of South Africa—driven by Jan, my former Hottentot driver, who, with Piet, my former after-rider, had contrived to pick up a living in Somerset East during the war, and now—also with Piet—was more than willing to re-enter my service and accompany me to the uttermost parts of the earth, if so it might please me. The dogs, Thunder and Juno, also formed part of my train, having found a home with Piet during my absence at the war. Also, in addition to Prince, there were two other horses, one being a fine, sturdy iron-grey Basuto cob named Tempest, and the other a very useful chestnut named Punch, which I had purchased chiefly for Piet’s use when we should arrive in the elephant country. The remaining member of my retinue was a Bantu boy named ’Ngulubi, about sixteen years of age, who acted as voorlouper, or leader of the front span of oxen of the team.
We trekked at a moderately easy pace to start with, doing, on an average, about twenty miles a day, and contriving, during the first four days of our march, to outspan each night in the vicinity of a farmhouse, where, in accordance with the custom of the country, I obtained hospitality for the night. After that, however, the farms became more widely scattered, and I was obliged to content myself with the cartel in my wagon, which, to be perfectly truthful, I found far more comfortable, because more cleanly, than some of the beds I had slept in. On the evening of the eighth day, about half an hour before sunset, we successfully forded the Orange River and outspanned on its northern bank, by which time the oxen were actually going better than at the start, and were in harder condition.
It was a glorious evening, the sky cloudless, the heat of the day over; and there was just the softest breathing of a cool, refreshing air from upstream. The country, low-lying along the margin of the river and rising very gently as it swept away northward, presented just the combination of rich grass land and bush that seemed to promise an abundance of game, and about a mile upstream from our outspan the river broadened out and was rush-fringed in such a fashion as to suggest almost a certainty of wild duck; therefore, while the “boys” outspanned and attended to the cattle, I took from the wagon the double-barrelled combination of rifle and smooth-bore that I had purchased for my father a year before in Port Elizabeth, and, accompanied by the two dogs, set out for a little walk upstream, partly for the enjoyment of the walk and partly in the hope of securing something a little more appetising than buck meat for supper.
Keeping closely along the river margin, and walking slowly, with the dogs close at heel, I soon became lost
to everything but the entrancing beauty of the evening, its perfect peacefulness and quietude, emphasised rather than broken by the gentle gurgle and ripple of the river along its banks and the soft sigh and rustle of the wind among the reeds; while the swift changes of light and colour flooding the landscape as the sun sank rapidly in the western sky afforded a picture the surpassing loveliness of which there are no words to describe. Unconsciously I halted that I might the better be able to watch the wonderful play of prismatic colour upon the bosom of the river, upon the gently swaying reeds along its margin, upon the broken ground ahead in its emerald mantle of lush grass, dotted here and there with broad clumps of bush, and upon the gently swelling contours of the distant hills, blushing rosy red in the evening sunshine; and for a space of perhaps ten minutes I stood spellbound, conscious of nothing but the surpassing loveliness of God’s handiwork as manifested in the scene before me.
Then, suddenly, I was jerked back to a realisation of the more prosaic side of things by an outburst of loud bellowing which seemed to proceed from the farther side of a low ridge about a hundred yards ahead, and, getting into motion again, I hurried forward to ascertain what was the matter. For there was a note of mingled anger and terror in that bellowing which told me plainly enough that some creature was in trouble not far away. It was not one of my own oxen; they were all right in plain view from where I stood, grazing contentedly close to the wagon in charge of the umfaan ’Ngulubi: nor was it a domesticated ox of any kind, for there was no farm anywhere within sight, and no wagon excepting my own; moreover, the sound was too deep and powerful to issue from the lungs of a domestic animal, the obvious inference therefore being that the bellowing proceeded from a wild buffalo. And so indeed it proved, for upon topping the intervening ridge I beheld a splendid buffalo bull some fifty yards away standing breast-deep in the river, struggling violently and uttering bellow after bellow, except when for a moment or two the poor beast’s head was dragged under water.
I saw at once what was the matter; the brute had wandered down to the river to drink, as most animals do, at eventide, and, plunging rather too deeply into the water, had been seized by the muzzle by a crocodile, and was now, despite his frantic struggles, being slowly dragged into deep water, where of course he would presently be drowned and become the prey of the fierce saurian. Now the wild Cape buffalo is a distinctly vicious creature, easily angered, and ready to fight upon the slightest provocation; it is, indeed, with perhaps the exception of the rhinoceros—and many who know both intimately would not even except the latter—the most dangerous animal in Africa, and therefore to be let carefully alone by people who are not looking for trouble: but in the present case my sympathies were all with the buffalo, for the fight did not seem to be a fair one; the advantage was all on the side of the crocodile. Therefore, in order to even matters a little, I decided to take a hand in the game, and forthwith started at a run for the scene of action. And I arrived not a second too soon, for when I reached the spot the buffalo, notwithstanding his immense strength and the desperate resistance which he had offered, had been dragged slowly forward through the yielding mud until he was submerged mid-shoulder-deep, while, his head being held under water, he was already half-drowned and his resistance decreased every moment. Nevertheless he was still making a gallant struggle, occasionally contriving to raise his head above water and secure a gulp of air, notwithstanding the fact that, in order to do so, he had practically to lift the entire weight of the crocodile a foot or more; and of course upon these occasions the crocodile’s head was lifted at least partially out of the water, far enough to disclose the brute’s merciless eyes. This happened a second or two after my arrival upon the scene, when, quick as light, I tossed my weapon to my shoulder, sighted the reptile’s left eye, and pulled the trigger.
It was enough: the bullet penetrated to the creature’s brain, the great jaws slowly relaxed their grip, and with a smothered bellow which may or may not have indicated relief, the great bull swerved round, staggered out of the water and up the bank, and fell in a heap just as he reached the crest, where he lay, panting heavily and moaning with pain as the blood gushed from his lacerated muzzle. For a moment, as I stood to reload my rifle, I was more than half-inclined to put a bullet into the poor beast’s brain and so end his misery, but upon reflection I decided that it would be rather unsportsmanlike to take advantage of his helplessness. I therefore determined to give him a chance, and went upon my way, leaving him to recover if he could. And when I retraced my steps about an hour later the brute had vanished, though he had probably not gone very far.
Resuming my walk, I reached the spot for which I had been making, just in time to secure a shot at a flight of teal as the birds arrived in what were evidently their night quarters, and was fortunate enough to bag two and a half brace, with which I returned to the wagon, lighted on my way by the rays of the newly risen almost full moon.
On the following evening, after a long and fatiguing day’s trek over broken and continuously rising ground, we outspanned close to a Basuto village, the inhabitants of which welcomed our arrival with such extreme cordiality that I felt sure they wanted something from us. And later on, after I had dined, and was thinking of retiring for the night, my suspicion was verified.
As is the custom when the natives are inclined to be friendly, the headman of the village and some half-dozen others came out to fraternise with my “boys”, and, incidentally, to share their evening meal, which, as usual, consisted to a large extent of buck meat. Now, at the time of which I write, the Basutos possessed no firearms, therefore they had to depend chiefly upon pitfalls and similar primitive contrivances for their supply of meat, except upon the very rare occasions when they succeeded in working themselves up to such a pitch of extravagance as to slaughter an ox; consequently meals of which flesh formed a part were few and far between. But they knew that the white man and his followers could always get meat in abundance; therefore when a white man passed through their country—which might occur, upon an average, twice a year—they always made a point of inviting themselves to supper, as in the present case, knowing that the white man, understanding their custom, would be sure to provide the wherewithal for an abundant feast. And as they eat they talked, for the Kafir is an inveterate gossip, and in this way the white man might sometimes acquire an item or two of information of real value to him.
Now, I had given my “boys” instructions to avail themselves to the fullest extent of every opportunity that should offer to make cautious enquiry among the natives with whom we might chance to come into contact, with the object of gaining some clue to the whereabouts of Nell Lestrange; for I knew that a white child could not be spirited off into the wilds without a good many natives acquiring an inkling of the direction in which she had gone: therefore upon occasions like the present it was the custom of Piet, my after-rider, ably seconded by Jan, cunningly to lead the conversation round to the subject of the recent war, and then listen intently to all that was said, helping the conversation along, where needful, by an artfully framed question or two. And these tactics they followed on the evening in question.
Having taken a walk out on the veld to enjoy the beauty and silence of the prospect under the silver flooding of the moon, I returned to the wagon with a pleasant sense of coolness and fatigue, and was about to begin my preparations for a night’s repose when Piet, my Tottie after-rider, rose from his place among the others round the fire and approached me.
“Baas,” he said, “’Ngaga, a Basuto, the headman of the village, would speak with you. Shall I say that your ears are open?”
“Yes,” answered I. “Let him come hither and speak freely.”
Accordingly, Piet having signified that I was graciously willing to accord an audience, ’Ngaga approached, halted at the distance of six feet from me, flung up his right hand, and sonorously uttered the salute “’Nkos’!” Then he stood motionless, awaiting my pleasure.
“S’a bon’ (literally, I see you), ’Ngaga!” I replied. “You would have speech with me? Then say on. My ears are open.”
“Baba (Father),” began the savage (he was at least forty years of age, while I was only eighteen), “thy children are in trouble; therefore there was great rejoicing in the village when Mafuta, the nyanga (witch doctor), this morning announced that a white man was on the way and, with his fire weapons, would be with us before nightfall. He said—”
“Stop!” interrupted I. “Before you speak further, tell me how Mafuta came to know that I was on the way? I believed that my entry into Basutoland was unknown, and was wondering whether it would be better for me to see Moshesh in his kraal, or whether it would suffice for me to send a messenger with gifts. Perhaps you can tell me?”
“Doubtless the king will be glad to see thee at his kraal,” cautiously answered the man, “especially if the news goes forward that thou hast done us, his children, a service. And if thou wilt do us that service I will see that the news of it does go forward to the king’s ear, ensuring thee a welcome.”
“Very well,” said I. “I will gladly do what may lie in my power. Therefore, say what is thy desire, and I will consider the matter. But thou hast not yet told me how Mafuta came to know of my presence in Basutoland. I saw no man yesterday. But perchance one of you belonging to the village saw my wagon from afar, and hastened to spread the news?”
“Nay,” answered ’Ngaga; “no man saw thy wagon, from afar, or brought news of thine approach to the village. Mafuta is a great nyanga, and perchance he saw a vision of thine approach in his magic smoke. How should I know? It is not good for mere ordinary mortals to enquire too curiously into the doings of the nyangas.”
This reply at once powerfully aroused my curiosity, for I perceived that ’Ngaga was referring to those strange occult powers with which the witch doctors are credited by the white men who have been thrown into most intimate contact with the natives. I had heard many extraordinary and apparently well-authenticated stories told respecting the alleged power of the nyangas to visualise distant happenings, to foretell coming events, to discover the whereabouts of lost articles, to read the thoughts of men and lay bare their most cherished secrets, and also to inflict upon their enemies loss, suffering, and even death. I had no doubt that many of the strange stories to which I had listened had originated in some very trivial and ordinary circumstance which had been magnified and distorted into a weird and supernatural happening by the superstitious credulity of the original narrator; but there were others of an equally weird and unaccountable character, which had been told by hard-headed, intelligent, unimaginative men as having come within the scope of their own personal experience, that seemed to indicate that the nyangas really possessed powers denied to the great majority of their fellow-men. Moreover, it must be remembered by the sceptical that all who have ever been intimately associated with the African savage are fully agreed that he is gifted with certain strange, uncanny powers quite incomprehensible to the white man, as was indubitably demonstrated during the last Zulu war, when the natives exhibited an intimate knowledge of certain events—notably the disaster to the British troops at Isandhlwana—within an hour or two of their occurrence, and several days before the news became known through the ordinary channels of communication.
Now, taking into consideration such facts as these, which are common knowledge and yet are quite inexplicable by the most profound students of ordinary science, one is inclined to ask, if such things are possible to the ordinary savages, why should not other and still more extraordinary powers be possessed by those among them who have inherited the secrets handed down to them by others who, through many generations, have made it the sole business of their lives to study what we, for want of a better term, are pleased to designate the occult? I confess that I am not of those who will believe only what they are able to understand; upon what principle, therefore, shall I say that I will believe a certain thing although I do not understand it, but will not believe something else for the same reason? Now, I was keenly interested in the subject of the nyanga’s alleged powers for a variety of reasons, two of which will, I think, justify me in determining to put them to the test, now that I had the opportunity: one reason being simple curiosity, and the other the desire to obtain information as to the whereabouts of Nell Lestrange. Therefore I said to ’Ngaga:
“Very well; let that matter pass. You were about to tell me that there is trouble in the village, of a kind that I can cure. Was it not so?”
“Even so, ’Nkos’,” answered ’Ngaga. “The trouble is this. A leopard has lately taken up his abode yonder,” pointing to a spot about half a mile distant, where a great granite kopje towered some sixty feet above the general surface of the ground, forming a hill of about three or four acres in extent. “He haunts a cave in the rock,” continued ’Ngaga, “and comes every night to the village, stealing our chickens, killing our dogs and cattle; and last night he even entered a hut and carried off a two-year-old child from its sleeping mother’s side. We have tried to kill the beast; but he is too wise for us, for while we are watching for him in one place he goes round by another way, and all our efforts thus far have been in vain. So to-day we consulted Mafuta upon the matter; and after he had heard us, and had shut himself up in the hut for as long as it takes the sun to travel that far through the sky,”—indicating an arc which would represent about half an hour—“he came forth and said that a white man—yourself, ’Nkos’—would arrive at the village to-night, and would undertake to free us of the beast. Will you do this for us, O my father? He is very wary, and will not allow us to approach him within the length of a spear cast; but he cannot escape your fire weapon: and it shall be that if you slay him, I, ’Ngaga, will send forward a messenger to the Great One, Moshesh, announcing thy coming to his kraal, and taking with him a tale that shall cause the Great One’s face to smile upon thee.”
“Very well,” I said; “I am willing to do what I can for thee and thine, O ’Ngaga, and thus will I do it. Thou shalt to-night station two men in a place from which they can watch the path leading from the leopard’s den to the village; and it shall be that if the beast shows himself, one man shall hasten hither to the wagon with the news, while the other remains to watch, and if need be follow him. Thus shall we know where to find the leopard, and I will come and slay him with my fire weapon. But if the beast remains in his den all night, then will I go up in the morning and slay him there. Is the plan good?”
“It is good,” answered ’Ngaga, “and I will go even now to the village and send out two trustworthy men to watch, and do thy bidding,” and the man flung up his hand in farewell salute before turning to leave me. But I stopped him. “Stay, ’Ngaga,” said I; “I have not yet finished speaking with thee. I will slay this beast that despoils the village and carries off its young children; but, in return, the village must do something for me. I am engaged upon a certain quest; and if Mafuta is as great a nyanga as thou believest him to be, it may be that he can help me. Therefore, if I kill the leopard, Mafuta must to-morrow exercise his magic to find out for me what I want to know.”
’Ngaga seemed suddenly disconcerted. He stood silent for a full minute or more, apparently plunged in disquieting thought. Then he spoke, deprecatingly.
“’Nkos’,” he said, “how shall I answer thee? Mafuta is a strange and wilful man, impatient of authority, and distrustful of strangers; moreover, he loves not white men: therefore it may well be that he will refuse what thou dost ask of him. Yet he seemed not displeased to-day when the knowledge of thy coming was revealed to him, and it may be that he will consent. I know not how he will act. It may be that if I ask him now he will refuse, whereas if I ask him to-morrow, when thou hast slain the leopard, he will consent. What wilt thou have me do, my father?”
“Leave it until the morrow,” answered I. “Then, if he refuses thee, I will see him. Perhaps he will not refuse me.”
“Good!” agreed ’Ngaga. “Thy decision is a wise one, for Mafuta is of those who like not to bind themselves by promises. I go now to find and send out the watchers. Sala guhli (farewell), ’Nkos’!” and, saluting, the savage swung round upon his heel and strode away. Thereupon I climbed into the wagon, and, having carefully examined my weapons and satisfied myself that they were all loaded and the powder well up in the nipples, retired to rest.
It was about an hour after midnight when Jan awoke me.
“Baas,” he murmured, shaking me gently by the shoulder, “there is an ’mfaan (boy) who bids me tell thee that the leopard is abroad and making down toward the village, and that if you will come quickly you will have a good chance to kill the beast.”
“All right,” I replied drowsily, as I sat up on the cartel and began to feel about for my boots. “Find the tinder box, Jan, and light the lamp.”
A minute later the lamp was lighted, and I proceeded hurriedly to get into my clothes. Then, taking my rifle, and instructing Jan to follow me with the double-barrel, I emerged from the wagon, to find a well-grown Basuto lad of about eighteen years of age impatiently waiting to guide me to the scene of action.
“Well, ’mfaan,” said I, “so the leopard is abroad. Whereabout is he?”
“He is somewhere on the other side of that ridge, ’Nkos’,” answered the lad. “He came out from behind the krantz and, entering the long grass, disappeared. But my brother yonder is watching his movements, and if we hasten we may cut him off before he reaches the village. See, ’Nkos’, there is my brother—you can see his head and shoulders above the ridge; he is waving us to hasten.”
I looked in the direction toward which the lad pointed. The moon was high in the heavens, almost overhead in fact, and the entire scene was flooded with her white rays. Before us the ground rose slightly to a ridge about one hundred yards distant; past this lay a depression through which a small stream ran, while beyond the stream the ground rose again in a long, bush-clad slope, which swept away into the extreme distance, grey and mysterious, forming the background of the scene. The foreground and nearer distances were brilliantly illuminated by the cold rays of the moon, rendering objects within a quarter of a mile almost as distinct as though it were midday; and, clearly defined against the ghostly grey of the grass-clad ridge, I could see the head and shoulders of a savage, the white moonlight gleaming upon his ebony skin as he waved his arm, signalling to us.
“This way, ’Nkos’, this way!” whispered my guide excitedly, leading the way toward the lower edge of the depression; and, walking fast, I followed him, with Jan bringing up the rear. Five minutes of quick wading through the long, dew-saturated grass carried us over the ridge, but much lower down than where the watcher was stationed; and the depression—which was scarcely deep enough to be termed a ravine—lay before us. Here we paused a moment to reconnoitre, but, seeing nothing, moved rapidly forward again, aiming for a small clump of bush that stood solitary at a distance of about fifty yards from a wide-open space which the leopard must needs cross on his way to the village. Behind this we all three posted ourselves, to await the arrival of the brute, for the position was an excellent one in every respect, the bush being between us and the spot where we supposed the leopard to be, while what little wind there was blew from that direction toward us, and in front stretched a wide, open, grassy space, with the stream trickling through its midst.
We had scarcely settled ourselves behind the bush when our Basuto guide gently touched me on the arm and silently pointed between the branches toward a spot where the grass seemed to be swaying a little more strongly than the soft breathing of the wind alone would account for; and, looking intently, I presently perceived that this peculiar swaying motion of the grass was stealthily progressing across the open space, as though something hidden by the tall growth were cautiously moving there. Apart from the peculiar motion of the grass, however, nothing was to be seen, which was not surprising, since the growth down there was breast-high; but a little farther on, where the village herd had been turned out to graze, it was not so long. The oxen were there now, at the far side of the patch of short grass, lying down asleep in charge of a couple of boy herds, and it seemed to me that the mysterious movement in the grass was progressing toward them. Presently one of the oxen suddenly flung up his head, seemed to sniff the air for a few moments, and then, with a low moan, rose to his feet, switching his tail from side to side. The movement aroused the rest of the herd, who in turn scrambled to their feet and stood, switching their tails, and all facing the same way, namely, toward the spot where I had observed the suspicious motion of the grass. But the motion had ceased now, and for nearly a quarter of an hour we all stood there tense, waiting and watching.
Then suddenly I detected anew the curious quivering and swaying of the tufts, though so slight was it that for at least a couple of minutes I could not be sure that my senses were not deceiving me. At length, however, the movement grew sufficiently pronounced to convince me that the leopard was once more creeping forward, and a few minutes later it reached the spot where the grass had been kept comparatively short by the grazing of the herd. The next instant I caught the merest glimpse through the shortened herbage of a moving something that I knew could only be the back of a crouching animal of some sort sneaking toward the now fully awakened herd; and throwing up my rifle, I tried to imagine the entire animal from the little of it that I saw, aimed for the spot among the grass which I pictured as being just behind the shoulder, and pulled the trigger. The sharp crack of the rifle broke in upon the stillness of the night with startling effect. I heard the thud of the bullet, instantly followed by a savage snarl that ended in a moan, and as the smoke drifted away I caught a momentary glimpse of a great, tawny, black-spotted form writhing convulsively in the air from its death spring and then collapsing inertly where it fell. Jan and the Basuto, uttering yells of delight, instantly started to run in upon the fallen leopard; but I stopped them with the reminder that the beast might not yet be dead, and, exchanging weapons with the Hottentot, proceeded to approach, with all due caution, the spot where it lay. But we need not have been under any apprehension, for when we came to it we saw that the animal—which, by the way, was the biggest leopard that I had ever seen—had been shot clean through the heart, and was stone-dead.