The Gold Kloof

by H. A. Bryden

It was now time to turn in. In the hunting veldt most men are glad to retire by nine o'clock, often even earlier. Guy and Tom said good-night, and betook themselves to the tent, in which stood their low beds, constructed of iron and canvas. These folded up into wonderfully small space, and were put away on the wagon each morning. The two lads were at this time allowed to sleep the night through without being disturbed. Mr. Blakeney, Jan Kokerboom, the driver, and Poeskop each woke once in turn during the small hours, and saw to it that the fires were kept up and the camp in safety. As Poeskop had predicted, they were not disturbed by lions; and at dawn next morning the whole company were awake and astir, vigorous and refreshed, and ready for the adventures of another day.

Although they were now fairly in the land of big game, it was not part of Mr. Blakeney's design to waste time by the way. Each day the wagon was to trek steadily on under the guidance of Poeskop towards the appointed goal, that mysterious kloof of gold of which they often talked as they sat together round the camp fire. The wagon moved off after breakfast, therefore, while Mr. Blakeney and the two boys, with Poeskop--who had meanwhile set the course for the day--as after-rider, rode off into the veldt to the right front. They could see clumps of game grazing ahead of them, about a mile away in the distance, and towards these they took their way.

Crossing the river which intersected the plain, and which at this the dry season of the year held only a few pools of water here and there in its sandy bed, the hunters rode on quietly till they came within half a mile of the nearest troop. Mr. Blakeney took out his field-glass from its case--this he carried slung over his shoulder--and surveyed the prospect before them.

"That nearest troop, now getting fidgety," he said, "are tsesseby. It's no use running them across this big flat. They're the fleetest of all the antelopes, and stay for ever. Yonder are ostriches and Burchell's zebra. Tom and I will have a try at those. Do you, Guy, take Poeskop, and ride quietly for the big troop of blue wildebeest on the right. You'll have to ride hard, if they begin to run before you get within shot. But they may pull up when they get over the dip yonder, and give you a chance. Now then, Tom, away we go."

Guy and Poeskop cantered quietly in the direction of the blue wildebeest, a troop of some eighty of which were grazing quietly about a mile and a half away. They approached without difficulty to within some six hundred yards, and then, from the left of them, came the report of a rifle, then another, and yet another. Already, then, Mr. Blakeney and Tom were engaged! Guy looked in that direction, but could see no more than the distant figures of his uncle and cousin scouring away after some specks--the game they were pursuing--in front of them. He now turned his attention to the wildebeest of which he was in pursuit. The noise of the shooting had already disturbed them. Their heads were up, scenting the air for danger, and those animals which had been lying down had sprung to their feet. There was no time to be lost. "We must hart-loup [gallop]," said Poeskop quietly; and shaking up the willing nags, the two dashed headlong for the game. Now, at last, the wildebeest took real alarm. Bunching together in a big phalanx, plunging and capering, and whisking their long black tails, the troop set off at what looked like a heavy lumbering gallop, but was in reality a swift pace, taking a course right-handed in the direction of the river-bed. Guy, as he galloped, watched the herd with intense interest. It was the first time he had run blue wildebeest, or, as he had been accustomed to call them in England, brindled gnu. Their big, heavy, somewhat buffalo-like heads, carried low as they ran, and the masses of dark hair that covered their necks, throats, and faces, gave them a cumbrous appearance; but there was no mistake about the pace they went. They swept over the grass plain as fast as the ponies could gallop, and they were evidently not yet stretching themselves out. It was going to be a long and a stern chase. Pursued and pursuers had run somewhat over a mile, still bending towards the river, with its thick fringe of bush and low timber; five hundred yards separated Guy from the nearest wildebeest. They were stringing out now; it was useless to think of firing just yet; and then a diversion happened.

Disturbed by the trample of four-score fleeing wildebeest, a troop of buffalo, which had been resting in the shade of the river bush, suddenly emerged from their concealment and began to run up wind, taking very much the course of the retreating gnu. They had not gone a hundred yards when there burst from the seclusion of the river greenery, just in advance of them, two huge, unwieldy figures. It needed not Poeskop's excited exclamation of "Rhinoster, baas!" to convince Guy that he now saw before him a brace of rhinoceroses, as well as buffaloes and blue wildebeest. It was a thrilling moment; and the lad, with blithe countenance and the light of supreme joy--the wild joy of the hunter--in his blue eyes, shook up his good pony to yet a faster pace. The blue wildebeest were neglected now; which should he first go for, the buffaloes or the rhinoceroses? His mind was instantly made up. The buffaloes were nearest, no more than two hundred yards away; he would have a try at them first. With a press of the knees and a touch of the spur, Guy sent his pony at his hardest gallop. In less than ten minutes he was close up to the herd. Suddenly reining up, and jumping from his nag, he took aim at a huge old bull, carrying a pair of massive horns. The shot was a good one; and as the troop thundered on, the bull turned aside, galloped on for another fifty yards, and stood.

"Baas, get on the horse again," whispered Poeskop, who had ridden up with Guy's second rifle. "If he charges you on foot he'll catch you."

Guy looked at the grim beast, standing moodily waiting for his foes, with head down and eye askance, and thought the advice good. Jumping on to his pony again, he took the Martini rifle from Poeskop, handing him his Mannlicher in return, and moved to the right to get a better shot at the beast's shoulder.

Suddenly and without warning the bull charged, galloping down upon them at a pace that, considering its short legs and enormously massive frame, seemed little short of marvellous. The fleeing hunters, looking back as they rode, saw the bull within twenty yards of their horses' tails. Would he catch them?

"Pas op [look out]!" cried the Bushman, as they both turned and fled, digging their rowels into the flanks of their startled steeds. But the beast was too sorely wounded to run far. The charge was a short one, and the buffalo, dripping blood from his distended nostrils and mouth, stood again. Again Guy approached, this time very warily. He walked his pony to within fifty paces of the bull, and then, getting a quick but steady aim from his saddle, fired. As the loud report of the rifle rattled out upon the hot air, the sturdy brute staggered, sank to the veldt, and, with the strange moaning bellow characteristic of these animals in their last moments, yielded up his breath.