Hunters three: Sport and adventure in South Africa

by Thomas Wallace Knox

This retort evoked a laugh from the twain, and under its cover I said good-day and retired.

I rode as quickly as I could to the place where my friends were engaged in hunting the buffaloes, drawing up at the tree under which we had left our horses the day before. Their horses were at the tree in the care of the Kafirs who accompanied them. I found that Harry and Jack had gone into the forest on foot and several shots had already been fired. Not wishing to run the risk of meeting an infuriated bull which one of them had wounded, and also unwilling to risk being shot while approaching the hunters, I concluded to remain outside and wait for developments.

I did not have long to wait—not more than fifteen or twenty minutes; a huge bull came rushing out of the woods and made across the open country, passing quite near the tree under which we were resting. He was followed by three or four other members of his herd, and this gave me an excellent opportunity for a buffalo-hunt on horseback.

Filling my belt with cartridges and taking my trusty Remington, I swung into the saddle and went after the bull that was leading the group. I tried to make out whether he was wounded or not, as I preferred to bring down game of my own and not an animal that, by the rules of South Africa, would belong to somebody else. There was no trace of blood on the spoor of the buffalo, and so I concluded that he had only been alarmed at the sound of the firing and possibly by a shot aimed at him which went wide of its mark.

I had no difficulty in getting alongside the brute. Evidently he had never been chased on horseback and looked upon man and horse as some sort of wild animal, possibly a modification of the giraffe, or perhaps a new kind of quagga or eland. In fact, he might easily mistake the horse for a quagga, as there is a strong resemblance between the two animals, and the man might be taken for an unusually large hump on the creature's back. At all events, he manifested no alarm whatever at my riding up alongside, but he did manifest a great deal of surprise when I sent a bullet into his side at short range. His surprise was momentary; he paused, gave a look at me, and then charged savagely in my direction.

I was ready for him and got out of his way. My horse evinced a good deal of terror as the brute rushed upon him, and made active use of his legs. The charge did not last long, and the buffalo resumed his course over the open country.

I ranged up alongside and gave it to him again, and then I saw the advantage that a Winchester would have been under the circumstances. I could have given him two or three shots before he had a chance to turn and charge, and two or three shots might have settled him where one did not.

He charged again, but this time his assault was feeble, his steps grew slower and slower; he paused, came to a dead stand, and then dropped to the ground! Another shot at the vulnerable point in his head finished him completely, and then I rode on in pursuit of the others.

I singled out a cow and hunted her down in the same way. By the time I finished her the others had disappeared in a great clump of hack-thorn bushes, where I did not care to follow. Hunting in hack-thorn bushes is terrible work on one's clothing, not to mention his skin. For making the visit already mentioned I had donned the best of my South African equipments, and as my call was to be returned two days later I thought it just as well to keep away from the hack-thorns.

I retraced my steps in the direction of the tree where I had left the horses of my friends. There I found that Harry and Jack had driven out another bunch of buffaloes, which made off in an easterly direction; they mounted their horses and went in pursuit of the game, and had been out of sight for some time, trending away to the eastward. It was no use for me to follow, as a stern chase would be a long chase and completely use up my horse, not to speak of his rider. So I gave the Kafirs the direction for finding the two buffaloes I had slaughtered, and then, after giving my horse a breathing-spell of a quarter of an hour or so, jumped into the saddle and jogged slowly in the direction of camp.