The day’s march it was determined should be a short one, for Masheesh, who was down on the river side before daylight, had fallen on the remains of the eland some way off, just where the Suave discharged its meagre waters into another and larger stream, “It would seem,” said Hughes, when relating the matter to Wyzinski, “that the lion must have been actuated by a spirit of fun, for he certainly was not hungry. The greater part of the eland lies in the brush near the river side.”
“We will move on a few miles, and camp on the mountain slope,” replied the missionary. “The lion is sure to return for the remains of the eland. You have but to watch for him; and if you don’t, the chances are he follows the camp and pays us another visit.”
“More than that,” returned the soldier, “the grass is very much trampled near the pool formed by the junction of the two rivers. Many wild animals must frequent it, and perhaps elephants; but first we must replace the stolen meat,” he continued, shouldering his rifle and moving off, followed by the others across the plain, for eland were very numerous at the foot of the mountain range. Bounding along in single file, led by some old antelope, they looked very pretty, the herds made up into parties of from six to ten, having many young ones among them.
The colour of the males is a rusty yellow, with a brownish tinge here and there, giving place to reddish tufts of hair running down the face. The head small in proportion to the body, which is heavily and powerfully built. The eyes full, large, and soft, and the horns sloping backwards and twisted spirally. Taught by former experience, the hunter lay concealed behind the rocks. Masheesh, Luji, and Noti making a long circuit, came upon the rear of the eland, who were quietly grazing like tame deer in a park. The old buck, who generally led the herd, would soon take the alarm, and, raising his head, gaze around. Uttering a whistling cry, the rest would gather round him, as they moved away in single file for the hill-side. The alarm would spread, and at one moment there could not have been less than a hundred and fifty eland moving near them across the plain. Still the hunter’s rifle was not heard, for the deer had taken a wrong direction. At length, a troop of ten headed straight for the rock where Captain Hughes lay; the loud report of his rifle rang out, still more startling the flying antelope, while a deer, bounding several feet into the air, fell stone dead, shot through the heart. The eland was a female, easily distinguished as such from the very great difference of colour, being of a light pale yellow, with a splendid pair of spirally-twisted horns. Without moving, the hunter waited, hoping that some of the herds, now wildly scouring the plain, would come within shot. Trotting jauntily along, his little feet hardly seeming to touch the ground, a young eland came to the side of the dead mother. It was of a different colour to the female. Of a pale orange tint, the horns were short, and not twisted. There were many mouths to feed in camp, and the child eland was three parts grown. Again the sharp crack of the rifle was heard ringing across the plain, and the young antelope fell dead close to the mother, just as a herd of seven came bounding along at top speed within fifteen paces of the ambush. Seizing a spare rifle, the hunter sighted the leader of the troop, and a third sharp report woke up the echoes of the rocks. His foreleg broken, the eland still galloped on, his speed much diminished but yet considerable. Dashing after them came Masheesh, his long straight spear in his hand, his ostrich plume streaming backwards in the wind, his limbs naked save the usual ox hide round the waist. Singling out the wounded buck, the Matabele brave followed it. Its foreleg hanging useless, still the antelope struggled on, bidding fair to get away, but Noti headed it, and the animal came struggling along, in a direction which would lead it to within ten paces of the savage chief. Poising the long bright assegai, Masheesh stood for a moment motionless, while a gleam of light seemed to traverse the air, and the antelope fell heavily forward. The next, Masheesh bent over the struggling deer, the sharp curved knife flashed across the throat, a stream of blood followed, a few convulsive efforts, and all was still. This was a noble buck, measuring nine feet from the horns to the base of the tail, while the length of the horns was fully three, the deer standing nine feet high measured at the shoulder.
Sending the eland meat to camp, the hunters took their way to the river bank, searching for the spoor of the lion. Right opposite the spot where the remains of the deer lay, the river running between, a deep hole was dug, so deep that only the head and neck of a man standing in it would appear above the level ground. Between it and the remains of the deer, the stream formed a kind of pool. To the right ran the chain of mountains, while in front the plain was clear, the water a little lower down, pouring over a ledge of rock, so as to form a miniature cataract. Heavy timber grew right down to the river’s edge, the branches of some of the trees dipping into the water. The hole was dug at the foot of a tree, and all round it grew long, rank grass, and tangled brushwood, save where it was cleared away in front.
About nine o’clock that night, Captain Hughes, accompanied by Luji, who carried a spare rifle, took his way down to the river.
“I climb in tree?” asked Luji. “Master hid away in hole?” His English was plain enough, but not very grammatical.
“No, thank you, Luji,” replied the soldier, laughing; “remember the lioness of Zoutpansburgh.”
“Three lions there,” replied the other; “and Luji not know missionary in tree.”
“Well, well, just you bundle off to camp, Luji, and go to sleep. If I am not back directly after daybreak, send to look for me.”