And now dogs and beaters straggle out of the bash, the latter vehemently discussing the ins and outs of the recent undertaking. Kafirs are inveterate chatterboxes, and when a number of them get together the amount of promiscuous “jaw” that goes on is well-nigh incredible—and the shooters assemble, preparatory to making a fresh start.
“How many came out?” says Jim. “Let’s see—two went up above, one of them we got—two passed Claverton—one I got inside, and one went out by Naylor—six. Not bad for the first draw. How is it Naylor didn’t get his?”
“He did,” said the voice of that maligned person at his elbow. “Just bring some of the dogs up—there’s a blood spoor as wide as a footpath. It’s a thundering big old ram, too.”
They put the dogs on the track and followed as quickly as they could, for the bush was thick, but before they had gone far an awful clamour and a frenzied scream told that the quarry had been found. The bushbuck is the largest of the smaller antelopes, the male standing higher than a large goat. When wounded and brought to bay he is apt to prove dangerous, as his long, nearly straight horns, from twelve to fifteen inches in length, can inflict an ugly enough wound. This one was striking right and left with his horns as they came up, but being weakened by loss of blood was soon pulled down, though not before he had scored the sides of a couple of his canine foes with a nasty gash.
“By Jove, that is a fine fellow,” said Jim, as he surveyed the brown-grey hide with its white specks, and measured the long, pointed horns. “Who hit him first?”
“I didn’t hit him at all,” said Allen, somewhat ruefully.
“Never mind. We’ve got him, anyhow. Let’s get on again.”
On the ridge, overlooking the next large kloof which is to be driven, Hicks joins them. He isn’t best pleased, isn’t Hicks, for the simple reason that he has seen nothing to empty his piece at, which to his destructive mind is a very real grievance indeed. It is quite likely that, had he seen anything, the animal or animals in question would have passed him unscathed, albeit rather startled by a double detonation; but he has not had the chance, and meanwhile is dissatisfied, wherefore he makes up his mind to strike out a line for himself. Again the bush is alive with the sinuous red forms of the Kafirs, and the dogs thread through the underwood, giving tongue and rushing hither and thither as they strike upon a passing scent, and the shooters ride off to voerlay at their various posts, but Hicks quietly slips away from them all and makes for a point far below, where the kloof merges into a number of others. It is a narrow defile, overhung with krantzes on either side; forest trees twined with monkey creepers rise apace, and beneath their shadow, in the gloom of the thick scrub, a tiny stream trickles along. Whatever leaves the kloof will pass this way, and our friend knows that he is likely to get several shots in the ordinary course of things.
He conceals his horse, fastening him up among the bushes, then, with piece all ready, he takes up his position in a cunning ambush, and waits for whatever may appear. At present all is still as death, except where the whistle of a spreuw sounds from the overhanging cliffs; but the sunbeams are focussed into the hollow as through a burning-glass, and the distant shouting of the beaters, and an occasional shot, now and again breaks the silence. Nothing moves in grass or brake, and at last Hicks begins to wax impatient.
“Whew! how hot it is!” he exclaims, taking off his hat to wipe his forehead. “They’ll be a long while yet. I’ll have a drink so long.”