Le Vaillant, who apprehended that the country of the Auteniquas might prove a kind of Capua to his followers, made no stay in it, but pushed forward with all speed, and encamped on the skirts of an immense forest. This wood abounded with touracos, a species of bird of which he had hitherto been able to procure no specimen. His first business therefore was, if possible, to possess himself of this bird. His scientific ardour was kindled. He scoured the woods. The touraco presented itself before him, but its habits unfortunately inclining it always to perch upon the tops of the loftiest trees, he could never succeed in bringing it down. One afternoon, however, his eagerness increasing with his disappointments, he determined not to desist from the pursuit of his prey, and the bird, which appeared to delight in mocking him, confined itself to short flights, flitting from tree to tree, until it had drawn him to a considerable distance from his camp. Growing impatient, at length the traveller, though still believing the bird beyond the reach of his fowlingpiece, fired, and had the unexpected satisfaction of seeing it drop from the tree. His joy now knew no bounds. He rushed on to snatch up his prey,
Thorough bush, thorough briar,
until his hands and legs were dripping with blood; but when he came up to the spot where the touraco should have been, he could discover nothing. He searched the surrounding thickets again and again; he proceeded farther, he returned, he examined the same spots twenty times, he peeped into every bush, into every hole; his labour was in vain. No touraco. “I was,” says he, “in despair, and the thick brushwood and thorny shrubs, which had now covered even my very face with blood, had irritated me in an indescribable manner. Nothing less than the appearance of a lion or a tiger could at that moment have calmed my rage. That a wretched bird, which, after so many wishes and so much toil, I had at length succeeded in bringing down, should after all escape from me in so unaccountable a manner! I struck my fowlingpiece against the earth, and stamped with passion. All at once the ground gave way under my feet; I disappeared, and sunk, with my arms in my hand, into a pit twelve feet deep. Astonishment, and the pain caused by the fall, now succeeded my rage. I saw myself in one of those covered pitfalls which the Hottentots construct for the taking of wild beasts, particularly the elephant. When I had recovered from my surprise I began to reflect upon the means of escaping, and congratulated myself that I had not fallen upon the sharp stake fixed up at the bottom of the pit to impale the wild animals, and that I found no company in the snare. But as it was every moment possible that some might arrive, particularly during the night, should I be compelled to remain there so long, my terrors quickly increased as darkness approached, and retarded the execution of the only plan I could imagine for extricating myself without assistance; this was to cut out a kind of steps with my sabre in the sides of the pit, but this operation would be a tedious one. In this dilemma the idea of the only rational plan suggested itself; which was, to pick up and load my fusil. I did so, and fired shot after shot. It was possible I might be heard by my attendants. I therefore listened from time to time with the most painful anxiety and a palpitating heart, in order to discover whether my signal had been heard. At last two shots re-echoed through the wood, and overwhelmed me with joy. I now continued firing at intervals, in order to guide my deliverers to the spot, and in a short time they arrived, armed to the teeth, and full of uneasiness and alarm.”
He was immediately delivered from the elephant-trap; but having incurred so much risk in searching for the touraco, he made it a point of honour not to be balked, and recommencing his scrutiny, with the dogs which had arrived with his servants, found it jammed close under a small bush. He immediately seized upon his prey, and the pleasure of possessing this new and rare bird very quickly obliterated from his memory the trouble and danger which it had cost him.
In this encampment they remained until the setting in of the rains, when storms, accompanied by tremendous thunder, succeeded each other with singular rapidity. The thunderbolt several times fell near them in the forest. The whole country round was flooded, but they still clung to their encampment, until the whole was at length overflowed during the night. They then removed; but could proceed but a very short distance, for every paltry stream was now swelled to a furious torrent, which rushed down with impetuosity from the hills, rolling along with it mud, trees, and fragments of rock, and threatening whoever should attempt to traverse them with destruction. Meanwhile his cattle, pressed by hunger, had escaped from the camp; his dogs, which no degree of want could estrange, were reduced to skeletons, and fought with each other for the most revolting food; his Hottentots, less affectionate than the dogs, began to murmur, but could discover no just cause of complaint, and were but little disposed to aid themselves. A drowned buffalo, however, which was accidentally found in one of the torrents, came opportunely to appease their hunger; they dragged it on shore with shouts of joy, and having cut it in pieces, and given the dogs their share, they feasted upon the remainder and were happy.
At length the month of March arrived, and the rains abated. The torrents, ceasing to receive their aliments from the clouds—for, like the Nile, they are strictly διϊὲες—shrunk to their ordinary insignificance, the camp was immediately put in motion, and pushing onwards for a few leagues, they discovered a more convenient site on the acclivity of a hill, where they remained some time to recruit themselves and their cattle. Le Vaillant travelled for pleasure, and was gifted with the happy faculty of discovering at a glance its springs and sources. Near the site of his camp there was a small eminence, the summit of which was crowned with a diminutive grove, where the trees had so grown into each other that the whole seemed one solid mass of foliage. He immediately conceived the idea of transforming this thicket into a palace; and causing a covered entrance to be cut into the centre, he there hewed out two large square apartments, one of which was immediately converted into a study, and the other into a kitchen. If we keep out of sight the kitchen, and the share which art had in its formation, Spenser has admirably described this arbour, as well as the hill on which it stood:
Right in the middest of that paradise
There stood a stately mount, on whose round top
A gloomy grove of myrtle-trees did rise,
Whose shady boughs sharp steel did never lop,