On coming to one open space of country I rubbed my eyes to see if I were awake or dreaming. The place swarmed with aoul. It was like some field at home, full of cows before milking time, except that these were very animated creatures, fighting battles together, and making the history for buckland. I lay down in a tuft of grass for an hour or more, watching the pantomime. The aoul were in two great herds, separate and distinct. Each was in the charge of a war-like old buck who had drilled his does into fine order, and vigilantly saw that they kept a fair distance from the rival herd. Sometimes a doe of frivolous propensities would essay to seek fresh fields and pastures new, edging away in the direction of the other harem. Nemesis was after her on the instant, in the person of her outraged lord, who gave chase, and cuffing her about most vigorously, soon showed her the error of such ways, restoring her to his charmed circle again. On the outskirts of both well guarded harems there were many likely looking young bucks, who were kept at a respectful distance from the does they admired so much by the flying charges and battering onslaughts of each boss buck. To say their lives were strenuous is to convey nothing. They had no time to eat, or rest, or sleep.
Then, by a hideous mischance the two parties of aoul converged, and the strain was at breaking-point. For the system of all things was disturbed, and worse than all, the two old bucks met face to face. Now fight they must for the mastery, or be shamed for ever in the soft eyes of all their feminine kind. At it they went, hammer and tongs, clawing with razor hoofs, circling round each other, clashing, crashing. Meanwhile—but we all know what the mice do when the cat’s away! And this golden moment was the young bucks’ opportunity. Every Jack found a Jill, and some fortunate ones many Jills, and ran off promptly with their loot. Then when the old bucks had fought till they were dripping with foam and blood-flecked muzzles, the one slightly the stronger would end the fray with a terrific drive, and send his vanquished foe bellowing back to—nothing. The harem had all eloped.
One might lie and watch a herd of aoul for hours, really in full view, and not cause them any great anxiety. We never talked save in whispers, and it was really amazing to see how very indifferent the creatures grew to our presence. If they did take it into their heads to feign alarm, remaining quite still seemed to restore confidence in us. The old bucks and does were the most suspicious; the young were far more trusting. Just as it is with we human things. Illusions are smashed in buck land as in England.
The ridiculous inquisitiveness of the aoul makes him easy to stalk. The glinting of a rifle barrel seems to charm him rather than frighten him, as it would one of our Scotch deer. Sense of smell in the buck of the wild is even more marvellously marked than in the case of our home deer, and it must be so when we consider the added dangers. Death lurks on every side, but for one gerunük that falls a victim to King Leo’s appetite, I should imagine five aoul run into his very jaws in mistaken endeavour to see how many teeth in working order the fearsome enemy has. Never did I see such an inquisitive genus!
I found one or two newly born kids by watching the mother’s movements. I would mark the place in my mind to which she kept trotting away, then go later. It needed so careful a hunt before one would come on the little kid, covered up so ingeniously, in its cradle in a thorn brake. In a very short time though the babies get their jungle legs and can follow the mother at her own pace. I don’t know of any very much prettier sight than an aoul nursery full of kids playing. They are such sportive little creatures, just like lambs at home—jumping imaginary obstacles, running races, mimicking their elders in childish battle. Any little alarm, crack of twig, or fearsome rustle sends them all, on the instant, dashing back to the realm of safety by the side of the watchful parent.
As I have said elsewhere, the horns of the aoul differ considerably, and some otherwise well fitted out bucks have no horns at all. These bucks are often as well able to hold their own as their more perfectly equipped (so-called) betters, frequently bossing a herd. Others again have but one horn, and that deformed.
It was near this place of the aoul that a most amusing thing happened. Clarence and I got benighted in the jungle, and didn’t get home until morning. I know that this sounds just like the plot for a fashionable problem novel, but there wasn’t much problem about it really; it all came about as a very natural consequence, and happened mostly through my enthusiasm over another splendid oryx. I stalked this one for hours and hours, and the mosquitoes and heat seemed but to sting him into keener alertness. I could not get within range. I tried on foot, I tried squirming along the ground flat, and then, when there was nothing else for it, I’d mount my little pony once again and furiously dash off in pursuit. When within range I only got the oryx in the leg, a slight wound merely, and I had to try and ride the wounded buck down. A desperate business in this case, for he was not hard hit. I did not like the idea of leaving a hurt creature to die miserably after prolonged torture, so we let him lead us on and on, and it was very nearly dark before I gave that animal the coup-de-grâce. By the time we had secured his head, a fine one indeed, his shield and skin, it was dark. Night had descended upon the jungle. We fired three times in quick succession, a signal agreed on in case we ever got bushed, but we knew the wind was blowing away from the very distant camp.
I told Clarence we would get away as far as possible from the dead oryx, or we should find ourselves in for a livelier night than we bargained for, and have a regular at-home day of most unwelcome callers. We led our ponies and pushed and scrubbed our way through dense undergrowth, ominous rents in my poor coat greeting me as the vicious wait-a-bit thorn held me back. We found the darkness impenetrable in parts, and then in kind of drifts it would lighten a little. At last we made out a small patch of clearing, and decided on camping. The first thing to do was to collect wood for a fire, and as this was a difficult job on so dark an evening, Clarence just grabbed what sticks he could, lighted them, and the welcome glare enabled us to amass a great supply of firewood. I worked hard at this, for I had no mind to be among the jungle folk in darkness. We tethered the ponies as near the fire as possible, where we could see them, and I took the precaution to move the oryx head, &c., from my steed, and place them where I could carefully guard them. I did not want to run the risk of losing the trophies. Besides, it was rather rough on the pony to leave him all baited as it were to attract some hungry beast.
I should, I think, have preferred to lose the pony rather than the oryx, but wanted, if possible, to keep both.
Next came our little supper, and this was quite excellently managed. I always carried an enamel cup and many of Lazenby’s soup squares, together with a supply of biscuits. We had water too in a bottle on Clarence’s saddle, so, filling the cup carefully, I stuck it into the glowing embers. When it boiled in went my compressed tablet of ox-tail, and, after stirring it all with a stick, I had a supper fit for a queen. I made Clarence a brew of mock-turtle next. He said it was very good, and finished off all the biscuit. He then suggested he should keep guard and I might try to sleep. I said we would divide the night, he playing guardian angel the first half and I taking duty for the rest. I showed him my Waterbury, and explained that when the hands stood both together at twelve he was to call me. He seemed to understand. Then I laid me down, but not to rest. I could not help the fear haunting me that my shikari might nod, and in that moment of unconsciousness what awful thing might not happen! Such strange imaginings trouble a semisleeping mind at night that with daylight would cause us no concern at all. I lay and gazed at the stars. Sirius was shining away, and Venus was as beautiful a fraud as ever. I dozed awhile, I suppose, but the strange sounds around me kept my senses more or less awake. The jungle at night! The most eerie thing in the world, with strange short rustlings in the undergrowth, the furtive pad, pad, pad of some soft-footed creature, and ever and again a sound as though some man passed by, laggingly, and dwelling on his steps.