Hunters three: Sport and adventure in South Africa

by Thomas Wallace Knox

Then the boat was paddled rapidly to the shore, the lines attached to the spears were thrown to us, and with a dozen Kafirs trailing away with all their strength, the poor hippo at the other end had little chance. He swam and whirled about, but it was no use. Nearer and nearer he came to the shore, and when the proper time arrived a rope was passed around him and firmly fastened, and he was dragged up on the land.

HIPPOPOTAMUS HUNT.

Then there was more rejoicing, and congratulations all around were showered upon Mrs. Roberts. She protested that the animal was not her prize, it having been speared by Mr. Delafield. That gentleman gallantly called her attention to the rule of hunting in Africa—that the first shot is the counting one. "You threw the first spear into the hippo," said he, "and therefore the game is yours. The spear that I threw was simply a precautionary one; but yours is just as firmly imbedded as mine, and probably would have secured him without any assistance."

"Very well," said Mrs. Roberts; "I won't make any dispute about it, as I know you will all vote me down, even if I am right. Now, Miss Boland, it's your turn."

When everything was ready, Miss Boland stepped into the boat, accompanied, as had been Mrs. Roberts, by Jack and the paddlers. The same course was adopted as before, the boat going farther down the stream, in order to get away from the scene of the late commotion. There was the same period of watching and waiting for a hippo to come along, and the same result—that one came along in time. Miss Boland had been duly instructed as to the necessity of driving the spear or harpoon well into the flesh of the animal. When the time came to throw the spear she bent all her energies to it, and drove the weapon deep into the flesh of the prey at which it was aimed. In doing so she lost her balance and fell overboard into the river!

A cry of horror arose from the bank where we stood, and the faces of all of us became the complexion of marble. A woman struggling in the river! The river full of crocodiles! Can anything more horrible be imagined?

Jack gave the order for the paddlers to turn the boat; and luckily they paddled in the right direction, and whirled the craft so as to bring the bow directly over Miss Boland. Jack braced himself, reached down, and clutched her garments between the shoulders. As he did so he glanced along the water, and saw several crocodiles coming in his direction! There was no chance for deliberation or politeness; he clutched Miss Boland by the arms, and dragged her over the side of the boat and into a place of safety. It was all the work of an instant—not literally an instant, but I think not more than a minute. Miss Boland said afterward that it was all done so quickly that she had not time to get frightened, though she did think of the crocodiles while she was in the water.

The crocodiles came around the boat, and were evidently disappointed, if one might judge by their manner. As soon as the fair passenger was rescued, the boat was paddled to the shore, the line attached to the hippo being paid out as usual. The shore was reached in safety, and Miss Boland, dripping with water, stepped somewhat unsteadily to the ground. Having reached the firm earth, she threw her arms around Mrs. Roberts, and then the two of them sat down on a bunch of reeds and fainted. They were perfectly right to do so, as the danger was all over.