El Hakim and I vehemently consigned our indiscreet followers to the hottest possible place known to theology, but even that did not comfort us. We decided not to give up, but to go on and follow the herd, although it was extremely unlikely that they would allow us to get within range, as the buffalo is a very keen beast, especially when once alarmed. However, to our surprise and delight, we found, when we had breasted the rise, that the herd (about thirty head) had halted about two hundred yards away. We then noticed several very young calves among them, which at once explained why they were so deliberate in their movements. They were, however, on the look-out, and directly we appeared they saw us. The cows with their calves took up their station in the centre of the herd, while the bulls faced outwards, something after the manner of soldiers forming square. Most noble and majestic they appeared, with their huge, powerful bodies and immense frontal development of horns. They had an air of savage grandeur and ferocity about them that commanded my highest admiration.
There were a few stunted thorn trees standing about, and we took up a position behind one of them. As I have said, we were about two hundred yards away, and as they showed no disposition to run, we thought we might venture to walk boldly to another tree some distance nearer to them. There was a certain amount of risk of being charged in so doing, but we chanced it, and were perfectly successful in our design, though our quarry were manifestly uneasy. Sitting down, we waited patiently in the scorching sun for over an hour, in order to let them settle down again, so that we might approach still nearer. They gradually resumed their feeding, but not without much sniffing of the air on the part of the bulls, coupled with many suspicious glances in our direction.
El Hakim thought that the best thing to do would be for me to go to another tree a hundred yards to the right. Once there we would both crawl gradually within range, and then act as circumstances might direct. I started off for the tree, and arrived without accident, although the old bull, the guardian of the herd, sniffed severe disapproval. They were evidently getting used to our presence, but it was highly improbable they would tolerate our nearer approach, should they observe it. We again waited, and then, watching El Hakim, I saw him crawl stealthily on his stomach towards another tree fifty yards nearer the herd. I followed suit on my side, suffering considerably in so doing.
The vertical sun beat fiercely down, and, flattened out as I was, I felt its full effects on my back, which was protected only by a flannel shirt. The ground was covered with sharp pebbles and quartz crystals; and the long sharp thorns, blown down from the trees, pricked me cruelly, while I was tormented by a raging thirst. That fifty yards’ crawl took us twenty minutes; it seemed an age. When I arrived, panting and gasping, at my tree, I was bleeding freely from numerous cuts and scratches on my chest, elbows, and knees.
However, we were now within easy range of the herd, and after resting a few minutes to steady ourselves, we prepared for action. Looking over to my left, I saw El Hakim raise his rifle, so, taking aim at the largest bull I could pick out, I let drive, followed a fraction of a second later by El Hakim. My beast jumped, staggered a few paces, with the blood streaming in showers from his mouth and nostrils, and then toppled over dead, shot through the lungs. El Hakim’s beast also staggered a few paces and went down, evidently mortally wounded. We had neither of us shot at the big bull, as at the moment of firing he was behind some of the other animals. We had then two magnificent beasts down, and did not want more, but the herd would not move away. They smelt the two carcases stamping and pawing the ground, but did not budge an inch.
The big bull gazed round, seeking an assailant; but we were well under cover. Suddenly he turned, exposing his shoulder. Two rifles spoke simultaneously, but he did not go down. Once more we fired together, and again he was struck, but still kept his legs. Yet again we fired, and had the satisfaction of seeing him settle down on his hind quarters. To our great delight, the herd then moved off, and we were able to walk cautiously up to within ten feet of the big bull, as he sat propped up on his fore legs, bellowing defiance. Such a spectacle of impotent rage I had never previously witnessed. He made most herculean efforts to rise, but being unable to do so, he rolled his blood-shot eyes, while foam dripped from his massive jaws. He was the very picture of helpless though majestic rage. I took pity on the noble beast, and planted a Martini bullet in his neck, smashing the spine, thereby finishing him for good and all. We carefully examined him, and, an instance of the splendid vitality of an old bull buffalo, found all our six bullets planted in his left shoulder, so close together that they could have been covered with an ordinary-sized plate. Three were mine and three were El Hakim’s. We could easily distinguish them, as, though our rifles were of the same bore (·450), those from El Hakim’s Holland and Holland were clean-cut and symmetrical, while my heavier Martini bullets, propelled by half the charge of powder used by El Hakim, made a more ragged hole. We tossed for the head, and I won.
Four men were required to carry it into camp, when it was severed from the body. The horns were magnificently proportioned, and in perfect condition. The horns of my first beast also were quite up to the average.
As by this time it was long after midday (our stalk having lasted three hours), we determined to camp near the edge of the swamp. We dubbed it “Buffalo Camp,” and decided to stop there the next day in order that the men might cut up the dead buffaloes and dry their meat into biltong. We left their entrails where the beasts had been shot, with men to protect them from the vultures till sundown, in the hope that during the night they might attract lions.
Jumbi reported in the afternoon that two of the porters had deserted on the road, and, worst of all, they were carrying, one a load of food, and the other a load of the Venetian beads which were to buy us food from the Rendili. We sent Jumbi with six men back to endeavour to apprehend them.
Our camp was situated only about half a mile or so from the grave of Dr. Kolb, whom Mr. Neumann met at M’thara. In reading Neumann’s book[7] a pathetic paragraph (in the light of after events) met my eye; it ran thus:—