HYÆNAS AMONG THE CATTLE.
But the extensive highlands are notoriously infested by large numbers of that most dangerous of all the South African beasts of prey, the Canis pictus, also called Lycaon pictus or venaticus, and ordinarily known as “the wild dog.” It is one of the most rapacious and destructive animals on the face of the earth, and is a deadly enemy to all kinds of cattle. Both Montsua and Mr. Martin had warned me to be on my guard against their attacks. “Never let your bullocks graze out at night,” were Montsua’s words to me, “and never let them be unguarded even by day, if you expect to bring many of them to Molopolole.” In size this dreaded animal is about as large as a young wolf, only more slender, and in shape it is a cross between the proteles and hyæna. Always hunting in herds, they are especially dangerous; they attack the larger quadrupeds, oxen, elands, and hartebeests, whilst their ravages amongst sheep, goats, and wild pigs are still more destructive; they are not content with one victim, but seize a second and a third, so that the devastation they make is really frightful. They do not confine their visits to the native territory, but make their way to cultivated lands on the border of the Transvaal. They have their holes underground, and sometimes leave their quarters in winter to range over wider districts, returning in the spring. When they start on their raids, they hold their noses high in the air, and if unsuccessful in discovering a scent, they divide into little groups, and disperse in various directions with their noses down to the surface of the ground. Having found the track of any wild or domestic animal, except the horse, which is too swift for them, the entire pack, yelping and baying, darts off upon the chase with such eager impetuosity, that many of them fall into the bushes, or run foul of rocks and ant-hills. Through being so small, they not unfrequently succeed in getting close to cows or antelopes before they are observed; and whilst the cow may be defending herself by her horns from the assailants in front, two or three of the voracious brutes will be biting at her heels, and as many more at her belly; finding defence hopeless, the unfortunate creature will take to flight; this occasionally succeeds, and cows are from time to time seen reaching their homes in the farmsteads with dreadful wounds all over their bodies; but if they stumble or get seized by the neck or nostrils, or bitten through their knees or in the stomach, so that the bowels protrude, it is all over with them, and they die in the most horrible agonies.
The 18th was spent in crossing the Banquaketse table-land. Everything seemed blooming in the advancing summer, and I did not see a single withered mimosa. Towards sundown we entered the valley of a sand-river, now reduced to a mere rivulet, called the Mosupa, Masupa, or Moshupa; it was said to join the Taung, an affluent of the Notuany. The river-bed and its banks were partially strewn with gigantic blocks of granite that lay in immense flats on the left-hand shore, their upper surfaces being slightly hollowed, forming natural reservoirs. A few hundred yards to the right the stream made a sudden turn to the north-east, and just in the bend rose a fantastic crag connected with two others of inferior height, and formed of huge masses of rock.
As we descended from the high ground towards the valley, some luxuriant woodlands and shrubberies cut off any very distant view, but made some graceful scenery. The setting sun, all aglow, was just resting on the edge of the adjacent table-land, on the east of which the Masupa held its course. As the gorgeous disk became concealed, and a more equal light fell upon the scene, our eyes fell upon an object which drew from us all an involuntary expression of surprise. Had we been anywhere but in the heart of South Africa, we should have concluded at once that we were looking upon some ancient churchyard; what we really saw were the ruins of a town, enclosed by a low stone wall, The guide whom Montsua had sent with us, in giving an account of the place, said that until the last few years it had been occupied by a branch of the Banquaketse, but that the son of the chief Mosilili, named Pilani, who was a friend of Sechele, the king of the Bakuenas, had with a number of his dependents left his father’s town and Khatsisive’s territory, and had settled in Sechele’s new district in Molopolole; whereupon Mosilili, an old ally of Khatsisive’s, finding his town half deserted, left the remainder of the residents in the lurch, and took up his abode near Kanya.
During a stroll that I took along the river, I came across some very pretty bits of scenery. The banks were high and thickly clothed with vegetation; and in the stream the slippery boulders, piled one above another, formed little cataracts and natural weirs that future settlers might well utilize, either for turning mills or irrigating meadows. In the thickets on the banks were flocks of horned guinea-fowl (Numida coronata), and in muddy places I saw distinct traces of otters and water-lizards.
At dinner-time we noticed on the overhanging rocks a number of rock-rabbits, called “dossies” by the Boers. We started off for a chase. These creatures are the smallest of all extant pachydermata, and, on account of being so continually hunted by the natives, are very shy. As long as we kept near the waggon, which was stationed at the ruins, they remained passive enough, either squatting as they watched us from the ledges of rock, or contentedly seeking roots in the bushes, and figs on the sycamores; but no sooner did we approach the foot of the crags, than they bounded away instantly into the nearest crevices.
Whilst Eberwald, F., and Stephan were shooting on the east hill, I made my way to the west, and before long spied out a rock-rabbit that seemed quite unsuspicious of my movements, and was crouching in a melancholy attitude, as if oblivious of all the affairs of itself and the rabbit-world in general. With much caution, and not without many ludicrous tumbles, which caused a good deal of amusement to Pit, who was with me, I scrambled on till I was just within range. Pit wanted me to get nearer; but, assured that my opportunity was now or never, I fired a charge of small shot straight upwards. My aim was perfectly good; the rock-rabbit rolled on to the stem of a sycamore that overhung the precipice, and fell perpendicularly several feet. We made our way, out of breath, to the foot of the tree, but were doomed to disappointment. Although the ground was all stained with the fresh blood, the creature had disappeared; we searched every nook and crevice, we investigated every corner, but were completely baffled in finding the wounded rabbit.
HUNTING THE ROCK-RABBIT.