A Rip Van Winkle of the Kalahari, and Other Tales of South-West Africa

by Fred C. Cornell

The pan was but a small one, and the delicious water of the night proved to be but a few gallons of stagnant liquid full of animalculae; but there was grass for the horses, and to our joy we found that the flower belt did not extend beyond where we had emerged from it. Bare dunes spread again beyond, but even these were welcome, after our experience of the "devil flowers," as Inyati called them. Buck was plentiful, and for a day or two we ate, drank, and slept to our heart's content, gathering all the strength we could for our next attempt. Inyati was full of confidence for the future, confident that we should never have difficulties to encounter equal to those we had surmounted, and that the diamonds and wives would soon be at our disposal.

"North, master! almost due north now and we shall find pans on the way with water! My magic stone has told me that and it makes no mistakes! And to-morrow we start again; for the water will last but a few days moreover, we have been long on the path."

Poor Inyati! the bravest, cheeriest comrade black or white that I have ever had; little did I dream when he spoke thus that he would never live to see the morrow!

That evening, as we sat smoking by the fire, we noticed that the two horses were extremely nervous, pricking their ears and snorting as they cropped the dry grasses a few yards away from us.

"Leopards," suggested Inyati, "there are many spoors here, but no lions."

But scarcely had he spoken when the booming roar of a lion came from the direction of the pool; to be immediately answered by another, and another; until it was evident that the pan had been invaded by a numerous troop of them. We both started to our feet with the same thought in our minds. If they were hungry they might probably attack the horses! It was still light, but no time was to be lost; so hastily cutting down a number of the stunted thorn bushes with which the pan abounded, we proceeded to build a "scherm" in which to pass the night.

We enclosed a space about fifteen yards square, and into this we brought the horses, together with enough wood to keep a fire burning all night; and as the hedge was seven or eight feet in height, and of impenetrable thorn, we felt but little anxiety as to the presence of the lions. As night fell, however, their roars became louder and nearer, and by mid-night there were at least a dozen of them pacing round our scherm, and barely kept at a distance by the frequent fire- brands we threw over the fragile protection. Occasionally the huge beasts fought amongst themselves, and the snarling, growling pandemonium would become more deafening; then this diversion would cease, and the whole troop would continue their pacing round our fence, sniffing and snorting at us through the thorn bushes and making us feel as one can imagine a mouse feels when caught in a trap, and with a hungry cat peering through the bars at him. Time after time we scared them away by throwing fire-brands among them, but always they returned, and to our dismay, long before morning we realized that our stock of firewood would not nearly last till daylight.

We had refrained from shooting, as it was impossible to see the brutes through our scherm; but as the fire got lower, and they became more daring, we sent a few shots among them, and the hellish hubbub that ensued showed that some of them were hit. But this proved disastrous, for a wounded animal, in its death struggles near the fence, came in contact with the bushes and almost tore down our only protection before a few more bullets finished it. There came a lull for a short time after this, and we were congratulating ourselves that morning would soon be dawning, when the lions would slink away, or when the light would enable us to finish them when without the least warning a huge form leapt clean over the hedge and landed in the centre of the scherm, scattering the few remaining embers in all directions.

A second spring, and before either of us could shoot, the lion had pounced upon Inyati, and had him down upon the ground beneath him, shaking the poor fellow like a terrier shakes a rat. Mad with rage I sent bullet after bullet into the brute's head and body till the click of the hammer of my Winchester showed the magazine was empty, and the lion rolled over dead, with Inyati still in its mighty grip, and to all appearance dead also.

Then I must have gone berserk mad. I remember cramming the magazine full again, and throwing aside the bush that blocked the entrance, I stepped out among the lions.