THE LUCKY ESCAPE.
At an early hour on the next morning, however, we followed his “spoor,” and soon came to the spot where he had passed the night. The sand here was one patch of blood, and the bushes immediately about were broken, and beaten down by his weight as he had staggered to and fro in his effort to get on his legs again. Strange to say, however, we here lost all clew to the beast. A large troop of lions, that had been feasting on a giraffe in the early morning, had obliterated his tracks, and it was not until some days afterward, and when the carcass was in a state of decomposition, that his death was ascertained. He breathed his last very near to where we were “at fault;” but, in prosecuting the search, we had unfortunately taken exactly the opposite direction.
On our homeward path from the pursuit of the lion we fell in with a herd of zebras, and, while discharging my gun at them, I accidentally pulled both triggers at once. The piece being very light, and loaded with double charges, the barrel flew out of the stock, the cocks burying themselves deep in the flesh on either side of my nose, just under the eyes, and left scars visible to this day. Mr. Rath, on seeing me in this plight, was good enough to say, by way of consolation, that it was undoubtedly a just punishment of Heaven in consequence of my having carried a gun on a Sunday!
CHAPTER X.
A Christmas in the Desert.—Mr. Galton’s Return from the Erongo Mountain.—He passes numerous Villages.—Great Drought; the Natives have a Choice of two Evils.—The Hill-Damaras.—The Damaras a Pastoral People.—The whole country Public Property.—Enormous herds of Cattle.—They are as destructive as Locusts to the Vegetation.—Departure from Richterfeldt.—The Author kills an Oryx.—The Oxen refractory.—Danger of traversing dry Water-courses on the approach of the Rainy Season.—Message from the Robber-chief Jonker.—Emeute among the Servants.—Depart for Schmelen’s Hope.
We had now been rather more than four months in the country, and Christmas had imperceptibly stolen upon us. Singularly enough, though I kept a journal, I was not aware of the fact until one morning the men came to wish me a “merry Christmas.” A merry Christmas! alas! there were no merry children—no joyous feast—no Christmas trees or other indication of “the hallowed and gracious time.” One day was of the same importance to us as another. Moreover, our store of grocery, &c., was too scant to enable our cook to produce us a plum-pudding, or any of those dainty dishes that even the working-man in civilized countries would be sorry to be without at this season. Fortunately, we had now so accustomed ourselves to “bush-diet,” that we did not even feel the want of what others might deem to be the necessaries of life. Constant exposure to the fresh air and perpetual exercise had so greatly increased our appetites, and improved our digestive powers, that, though we might not, like the natives, demolish a “yard” or so of flesh at a meal, we could, nevertheless, play our part at meals as well as any London alderman; in fact, we could eat at all times, and scarcely any thing ever came amiss. A draft of water from the pure spring, and a piece of dried meat just warmed in the hot ashes, was as much relished by us as a glass of sparkling pale ale and a slice of Yorkshire ham would have been in Europe.
In this way we managed to live on cheerfully and agreeably; yet thoughts of home, with all its comforts, and friends dear to memory, would now and then flash across our minds. Such reflections, however, we tried to avoid, as they only served to sadden us.