Hunters three: Sport and adventure in South Africa

by Thomas Wallace Knox

Well, my prize lay there. After prodding him two or three times, and having Mirogo pull his tail, to make sure that he was dead, I climbed up on his side and surveyed him. He was a magnificent bull-elephant, and probably not less than one hundred years old.

There is a good deal of dispute among African hunters as to the age of elephants, some contending that they do not live anywhere near as many years as does the Asiatic elephant. There are elephants in India known to be one hundred and fifty years old. I have never been able to see why the African pachyderm should be any less long-lived than his Asiatic brother; the characteristics of the two are so nearly alike that their habits and way of life are pretty much the same, except that the Indian elephant is domesticated and the African one is not, or, at any rate, very rarely. The khedive of Egypt generally has two or three African elephants in his collection at Cairo, and the famous Jumbo—the delight of many thousands of children in Great Britain and the United States—was a native of Africa, and not of Asia. But let us return to our hunting. As soon as I had surveyed my prize and marked his position by the surrounding trees, I sent Mirogo to look for the other elephants, I following him closely. The others had taken alarm and fled. Their spoor showed that they had scattered somewhat, and just as I was considering which spoor was the largest, so that I might follow it, I heard three shots off on the right and then two on the left.

"Not much more chance for me to-day," I said to myself; "Harry and Jack are getting their innings now, and it's time they had them."

I was about saying we might as well give up the chase when Mirogo suggested it. "The elephants have taken the alarm," said Mirogo, "and we can't get near them any more; they're gone out into the forest, and are giving the other gentlemen a chance."

"Very well," I answered, "we'll go where the other gentlemen are, and see how much they have done."

Then I told Mirogo to lead the way to the one that was nearest. He suggested that we go first to Harry, and from Harry's position to Jack's, which would be in the direction of camp.

We retraced our steps out of the swamp into the dry ground of the forest, and then, by means of the sun and my pocket-compass, took a course as nearly as we could make out for the point where Harry was located. Before we got in sight of him we heard considerable clamor, which satisfied us that he had been successful. Such proved to be the case, as he had brought down a good-sized tusker with only three shots. His tracker and gun-bearer were detailing the incidents of the shooting to several of the natives, who had come out from camp and halted at a respectful distance until the affair was over. Several jackals had already appeared on the scene, and a dozen or more vultures were circling through the air, two or three hundred feet above the ground.

It is astonishing how quickly the jackals, vultures, hyenas, wild dogs, and other feeders upon fresh or stale flesh will put in an appearance after an elephant or other large animal has been killed. I have been puzzled many a time to know where they came from; they seem to rise out of the ground, or drop out of the sky, as if by magic. They are useful in their way—very useful—as they perform the work of scavengers without exacting any financial reward. Even the lion does not disdain to perform his share, and when you see him associating with hyenas and jackals you have very little inclination to rank him as the king of beasts and give him all the prerogatives of royalty.

Harry was in great glee over the elephant he had shot, especially as he had had a narrow escape in the performance. He had taken his position behind a tree, close by an elephant-path leading from the open ground into the forest. He heard the elephant crashing along among the trees, and stood ready to give him a shot. Then there was a pause and the most perfect stillness, and the pause was broken by the sound of the elephant moving again, and evidently retreating farther into the wood. Harry was about to leave his position and follow on the animal's spoor, but was restrained by his tracker, who said, "Elephant come back bimeby, little while."