Chapter Twenty Three.
On the Plateau.
Existence, for the next five days, was the most enjoyable that our heroes had ever experienced.
They were in a perfect hunter’s paradise; in fact, so plentiful and varied were the specimens they saw, that the prairie appeared like a well-stocked preserve. The game was so trusting and fearless also, that they had about as little trouble to bring it down as sportsmen at home have over pheasant-shooting.
It was glorious, but it seemed too good to last long. When a man gets everything his own way for a time, he is apt to begin foreboding evil to come. This is an instinct which is planted in man to warn him against improvidence. Life is made up of changes, and neither success nor misfortune can last for ever.
Our heroes had been trusting entirely to chance so far. What they killed they had partaken as much as they wanted for the day, leaving the remainder to be devoured by the beasts who came after them, and the morrow to provide for itself.
But now Ned began to think it wise to prepare a stock of food to carry with them, in case the present supply failed.
With this object in view, he made easy marches, and devoted a portion of each day to more deliberate hunting, turning into “biltong” what they did not at present require. These were pleasant occupations to the whole company, and they went along with cheerful hearts.
As far as they had proceeded the land appeared to be ownerless, or in the undisputed possession of the grass-feeding and flesh-devouring fauna. There were no pathways, no signs that any other human feet had ever trod over these plains prior to their own advent. This was encouraging, but it also made them wonder.