Chapter Twenty One.
A Baboon Hunt.
Towards morning Clarence broke out into a lavish perspiration during Ned’s watch. The moisture poured from him like rain for about half an hour, after which he sank into a more refreshing sleep.
Ned during this time kept him well rolled up in furs, after which he rubbed him dry and covered him lightly, giving him at the same time about a tablespoonful of brandy. When he woke in the morning he was clear-skinned, hungry, and better. After a hearty breakfast, they once more continued their journey.
They did not progress very fast, as they had to cut through the tangle, yet, to their joy, they found that they were ascending to loftier ground each step they took, also that the torrent kept beside them.
After about six hours of this steady upward marching, the undergrowth became thinner and the ground more solid. At places they had to climb over moss-covered rocks, which jutted from the earth. The tendrils, also, were not so thick, nor the tree-trunks so great in girth.
That night they pitched their camp at an elevation of over four hundred feet from where they had lain the night before. The forest was still dense, but there were greater spaces between the trunks.
“We are approaching the open!” cried Ned, exultantly. “Tomorrow, perhaps, we may see the sun.”
A herd of koodoo dashed past them up the hill, followed by a pair of large leopards, and in their rear a pack of spotted hyenas also coursed along.
They fired at random into the koodoo, and brought down four. The second volley killed one of the leopards and wounded the other, who, however, made his escape, carrying with him one of the antelopes, while the evil-smelling jackals disappeared with savage yelps.
There was a succulent supper that night, which all devoured eagerly, as they were hungrier than they had been for some days past.
Next morning they rose all in a healthy and energetic condition. The usual thick fog was absent, and the green looked lighter which spread around them. All about them the winged insect and feathered world seemed more full of life and pleasure.
They were going up the sides of a decided hill now. By-and-by it got so stiff that they were forced to drag themselves up by gripping the creepers that spread over and barred the way.
The torrent was now a series of cascades as it bounded from ledge to ledge a swirling mass of foam. At times they lost sight of it altogether.
They were toiling over an upward spread of forest-clad terraces. When they reached one ridge, they found several yards of gentle slope, or even level ground, with a jutting out of boulders to be surmounted after these spaces were crossed. Still they were hemmed closely in with vegetation, and could only see a few feet ahead of them.
All at once they came to a kind of clearing, where the undergrowth was trampled down and the tendrils roughly broken asunder.
“Big man-monkey live about here,” said Cocoeni, as he looked about him carefully.
In front of them were several gaping avenues amongst the undergrowth. Ned decided on keeping to one that went in the direction his compass pointed to.
They went upwards now cautiously, making as little noise as they could. There was no occasion to use their axes, as the baboon-path was wide enough for them to pass through in single file.
Cocoeni and two of the hunters went first, and some feet in advance of the others. All were on the alert, with their guns ready and their hearts beating with suppressed excitement. Not a word was spoken. They even held their breaths as much as possible, and took care not to make any rustling with their feet.
This was new game to our heroes, and they were trembling with eagerness. They crossed several of these open spaces as they scrambled up the heights.
Before entering these, Cocoeni scrutinised them cautiously and keenly, while those behind waited on the result. Until he entered they stood still and mute as statues. The only sound they could hear as they stood and listened was the loud-sounding and tumultuous rushing of the torrent. This being close on their left, although hidden, seemed to deaden all other sounds.
At the fringe of the fifth opening Cocoeni suddenly drew back, and held up his hand as a signal for them to advance carefully.
One by one they crept up until they were able to see what he was looking at.
A strange, weird, yet singularly human-like and domestic picture met their gaze.
At the root of a huge tree squatted the most diabolic-looking mother-ape nursing her baby at her hairy breast. She was a gigantic creature, with the most villainous-looking face that our heroes thought they had ever looked upon.
Yet there was an expression of grotesque tenderness and sentiment upon that dreadful visage as she looked down at her hideous youngster, that was half pathetic and half ludicrous. One hairy arm was holding the young ape up, while the other paw was gently stroking its face as any human mother might have done when similarly occupied.
But if she was frightful to look at, her mate, who sat at her side and also watched his offspring with paternal complacency, was the most awful and devilish monster that the imagination could conjure up as a nightmare.
There was nothing ridiculous about him, but a combination of all that was revolting, bestial, and terrifying.
His flat forehead and pent brows; his dreadful jaws, which were slightly open in a senile kind of leer that exhibited his fangs; his shapeless, bulging paunch, short legs, deep chest, and long arms covered with dingy-looking hair,—he looked the embodiment of brutality, loathsome ugliness, and ferocious strength.
The first glance made them shiver with horror, the second filled them with the desire to kill this half-human, wholly fiend-like monstrosity.
The tree under which this awful group sat grew on the edge of a precipice, while in front of them the torrent could be seen and heard as it fell into the chasm, with a sound like thunder, from a lofty cliff. With that thundering in their ears, and the vibration of the covered rocks under their feet, they did not fear being heard by the brutes in front of them, Cocoeni made a silent sign, and the hunters crept through the leafage to make a half-circle round the still unconscious family party. While they were doing this, he drew back and whispered to Ned—
“Don’t shoot till I give you the sign. I know how to manage this fellow.”
“So do I,” replied Ned—“from what I have read.”
“All right. Now for him.”
Cocoeni stepped into the open, holding his gun ready, while our heroes followed him. They knew that they must kill with the first shot or it would be all over with them.
Neither of the baboons had heard them, but they had got the scent of the other hunters, and looked up sniffing the air suspiciously.
In a moment the male baboon saw his foes, and scrambled upright, fixing his wicked and ferocious eyes upon them. With a roar that eclipsed the thunder of the waterfall and echoed horribly in their ears, he opened his jaws, and grinned on them, showing all his teeth.
A tremor passed over them, and for a moment unnerved them—he was so horribly like an exaggerated Kruger as he stood there glaring at them.
He gallantly waddled in front of his wife and child, covering them with his ponderous body, while she sat still and waited. This action on his part the young men could not but admire.
With another fierce roar he stopped, and beat upon his stomach with both hands until it sounded like a big drum. He was getting ready for the fight, and bidding defiance to them.
Three more paces did he advance, then he once more stood still, and made the forest resound with his cries and drum-beating; then he threw his arms out, and crouched ready for the spring. He was about two yards’ distance from them by this time.
“Fire!” shouted Cocoeni.
Two rifles belched out at the same moment. Ned and Fred had fired off, while Cocoeni and Clarence stood ready.
The monster flung up its arms and fell on his face without a moan. He had been pierced through the heart and lungs.
The mother, when she saw what had befallen her mate, did not attempt to escape. She looked at the prostrate body stupidly for a moment; then, as if suddenly realising the disaster, she placed her baby on the ground, and rose, as the male had done, to her feet with a barking roar.
Ned and Fred meanwhile had fallen back a pace, and put another cartridge into their weapons. They were cool now that they had succeeded in their first shot.
She repeated the tactics of the male, only moved more actively, not giving them so much time to aim.
But their shots told all the same, even if she did not die so rapidly. With a shriek she fell forward, after she was shot, on to the body of her mate, and there she lay moaning and gasping piteously.
Our heroes were transfixed with horror at this death-struggle. It almost felt as if they had committed murder. With her life-blood streaming out, the mother made a frantic endeavour to cover and protect her little one, who had run whimpering over to her. She half turned, and got one hairy arm round it, hiding it on her bosom, all the while those human-like moans and gasps broke from her.
But the struggle was short. Even while Ned was aiming to finish her off, Cocoeni gripped his arm.
“No use wasting bullets, baas. She is dead.”
Yes; the arm suddenly relaxed its maternal hold, while the moans and groaning ceased. Only the baby remained. Ned would fain have spared the little one, but the hunters were round it by this time, and it was fighting tooth and nail to resist them. Before our heroes were able to reach it, one of the men had plunged his spear ruthlessly through its body, and pinned it to the ground. With a series of shrill and plaintive cries, it writhed for a moment, then closed its little eyes, and was suddenly still.
“I don’t care much for baboon-hunting,” said Ned, with a shudder, as he turned away, feeling sickish. “I hope we don’t meet any more.”
“So do I,” echoed Fred and Clarence, hoarsely.
“If we had missed that fellow, you would have seen nothing more in this world,” answered Cocoeni, deeply and sarcastically.
“Let us get on,” commanded Ned, shortly.
Then, taking up their loads, they resumed their upward course.
It was some hours before they could feel comfortable in their minds after that battue—that is, our heroes. The Kaffirs felt and showed no emotion whatever. Our heroes, however, walked silently and thoughtfully through the greater portion of that day, and when they camped that night, their prayers somehow did not give them the usual satisfaction. They felt as if they had assisted at a needless and cowardly massacre, and as if they merited punishment for committing an unworthy crime. They would have liked to have asked forgiveness for this action.
Yet these were merely beasts who must have disputed their passage, soulless monstrosities, for whom it seemed ridiculous to feel pity. The first and second they had killed in self-defence.
But the baby—ah, that was what lay so heavy on their consciences!
“I don’t mind the old man one bit,” murmured Ned, as he tossed about. “He was too much like President Kruger for me to let him live, when I saw my chance to wipe him off. He may have had some virtues—as Kruger may have. They both appear to be fond of their own, and willing to fight for them; but that wretched pup—I wish I could forget it.”
Events shortly banished this painful episode from the minds of these brave adventurers, and the jackals would soon remove the traces from the earth. Like the leaves of the forest, the lives of men and animals are trifles of no more consideration than the shadow that crosses a sundial and marks the hour.