Groups of stunted trees grew in the hollows, in which sprang up in great luxuriance the inevitable tussock-grass; while, amongst the little thickets that were sparsely scattered over the plain, were grazing large numbers of hogs, headed by a monster boar. This animal had tusks nearly a foot long; and he almost impaled Eric against a buckthorn tree, under the shelter of which he had been lying until surprised by the lad, when, after making a rush at him, he ran grunting away, followed by his numerous family.
As the brothers proceeded across the tableland, they also saw numbers of a small bird, about the size of a bantam, called by young Glass the “island hen.” Its plumage was almost entirely black, and its wings were so short that they were useless for flight, the bird running in and out of the long grass and ferns with which the surface of the plateau was covered in the open, like the partridge does amongst the turnips in England. Fritz shot a couple of the little things, and the brothers plucked and roasted them over an extemporary fire which Eric lit with the box of matches he invariably “carried in his pocket—as a sort of badge of his culinary office,” Fritz said. The birds were found to be very palatable for lunch, along with the biscuit and cheese which the brothers had brought with them.
The goats were the main object of the excursion; but Fritz could not see anything of them until they had nearly made the circuit of the plain.
When they had almost given up the animals as a myth, feeling inclined to believe that the old “billy” they had seen the evening before was the creature of their imagination, they suddenly came upon the flock. The goats were secreted in a thicket of buckthorn trees and tussock-grass, close to where the tableland sloped to the beach at its western extremity.
There were twenty-three in all, and must have been the produce of a pair which some whaling vessel had turned loose on the island; for, they were every one marked in the same way as the patriarchal-looking male,—evidently their progenitor. He was a stately old fellow, with a fine pair of curving horns that nearly reached to his tail; in addition to which, he could boast of a long silky beard that a Turkish pasha might have envied.
Seeing three kids amongst the number, Fritz told Eric to shoot one; and the lad, after a third attempt with the repeating rifle he carried, succeeded in making a successful shot. There was some excuse for Eric’s not killing his kid at first; for, the old male was extremely wary, keeping at a very respectful distance from the two sportsmen and making the flock remain in his rear, while he fronted the intruders—continually retreating as they advanced, and dexterously shifting his position, by a flank movement every now and then, so as not to be driven over the cliffs.
“Master Billy can’t be ignorant of men folk or firearms,” said Eric, when he had missed his second shot, “otherwise, he would not remain so far off!”
“He was probably brought here originally from the Cape,” replied Fritz, telling his brother to aim lower next time, his last bullet having only missed by too great an elevation. “So, like all animals that have once heard a gun go off, he knows what it means! Most likely, if I had not fired twice at those little birds, we might have got up quite close to the flock; but, the old gentleman must have heard the report and that has made him so cautious about letting us approach. Look out, Eric; now’s your chance! Only aim low and steadily, and you will bring down that kid there to the right!”
Puff, bang! No sooner said than done.
“Hurrah!” shouted Eric, “I’ve got him this time, without fail!”