“A sea-lion, my lads!” cried Mr Jonathan Kilby, who at that moment appeared close to us from among the high grass. “Jump up and attack him.”
The beast having no legs, and being able only to make progress with his fins, had not advanced so far as we expected. Our friend, having in the meantime drawn the small shot from his gun, and put a ball instead, fired at the head of the beast. The ball entered and stopped his further progress, and there he lay, helplessly floundering about, and roaring more lustily than ever. This gave Jerry and me time to recover ourselves, and to put bullets into our guns, with which we soon put an end to the sufferings of the poor beast. He was, we found, a species of seal, about eight feet long, of a yellowish-brown colour, and with a large mane, covering his neck and shoulders. He looked as if he would prove an ugly customer in the water; but as he had only flappers for front legs, with very small nails on them, and only a tail instead of hind-legs, a person on shore could very easily keep out of his way, and Jerry and I felt rather foolish at the fright he had put us into. We had achieved our victory before Mr Brand and Mr Burkett found their way up to us. As he lay not far from the boat, we settled to take his skin on our return. Going on, we reached a lake of some size, from which vast numbers of teal got up. Jerry and I shot several, which made us very proud; and the rest of the party tagged thirty or more between them, so that they were pretty well loaded. Before long, we again managed to get separated from the rest, but we had grown so satisfied with our prowess that we were indifferent to consequences. We felt that we were not likely to starve even if we lost our way. I was just going to fire at a teal, when Jerry pulled my arm, and pointing to an opening in the distance among the clumps of grass, I saw the head of a huge bull not fifty yards from us, and, as it seemed, fast asleep. Now was the time to show what we could do, so we withdrew our small shot and loaded with ball. Like North American Indians on a war-trail, we crawled stealthily towards him. We halted, and resting our guns on a bank, fired together.
“I am certain I hit him,” cried Jerry.
“So am I,” I added—though I was surprised that the beast did not move.
“We’ve killed him!” cried Jerry, as on we rushed, expecting to find a rich prize. He was lying down when we hit him, we saw that. We kept him in sight for some way, then we found our further progress somewhat impeded by the bogginess of the ground. At last we were brought to a stand-still about ten paces from our victim. Jerry gave a blank look at me, and I looked at him, and burst out laughing. The poor beast was not alive, certainly, but we were innocent of his death. He had evidently got into the bog in wet weather, and in vain struggling to free himself, had died of starvation. His head was stretched out, as if hopelessly longing for the rich food he saw growing not thirty yards from him, which yet he could not reach. All around the morass were the hoof-marks of his comrades, as if they had been watching him in his dying struggles, scampering round and round, perhaps with terror, or perhaps thinking how they might help him.
“At all events,” exclaimed Jerry, “we may say we hit a huge bull and left him as dead as mutton; and there’s no great harm if the rest go back to look for him. We can easily point them out the place by the side of the lake.”
A little further on we reached a smaller lake which was swarming with birds—geese, ducks, divers, and other wild-fowl. Among them were several swans, beautifully white, with black necks, which kept swimming gracefully about like the great lords of the feathered population among whom they moved. Jerry and I were very hungry, so we sat ourselves down to take a nibble at our biscuit and cheese, not wishing to disturb them till our friends should come up to help us to slaughter them. We had sat a little while, and opened our wallet, when, what was our surprise to see the birds swimming together, and landing in numbers below our feet! Slowly some advanced, as if to reconnoitre us, and then others came on, till some hundreds were within thirty yards of us, evidently wondering what strange animals we could be. Then they began to talk to each other in a most strange discordant cackle, their voices growing louder and louder, as if they were disputing on the subject, and could not settle it to their satisfaction. We lay back and watched them, highly diverted. Nearer and nearer they approached, talking away furiously all the time in tones of wonder and surprise, more than in those of anger.
“I know what they are saying,” whispered Jerry. “Well, these are two strange beings! How could they have come here? They are not seals, that’s certain, for they have legs; but they don’t look as if they could swim with those long, thin projections instead of flappers; and assuredly they can’t fly, for they have no wings. How can they feed themselves, for they have no bills? and see what great ugly round things they’ve got for heads. Evidently they cannot dive or live under water. They are not fish, then, nor birds; for if those are feathers growing on their backs, they are very rugged and dirty. Well, we pity them; for they are strange beasts, that’s a fact.” This quaint notion of Jerry’s tickled my fancy so much that I burst into a loud fit of laughter, which somewhat startled our flock of visitors; while Jerry, sitting up, hove a stick he had carried all day made fast to his side in among them. The missile did not, however, make them turn tail; but, instead, they clustered thickly round it, and, as if it had been some impertinent intruder, began pecking at it furiously. As we could not carry the birds away, with a praiseworthy self-denial we abstained from firing. When, however, we jumped suddenly up and clapped our hands, away they scuttled at a great rate, chattering and quacking louder than ever. We hoped, however, to reward ourselves for our present self-denial, by returning with all the party to have a shot at them in the evening. After this we walked on for a mile, and had begun to wonder what had become of our companions, and to be a little anxious at having missed them, when we were startled at hearing a loud roar not three hundred yards from us. It was very different from that of the sea-lion, and we too soon recognised it as the voice of an angry bull. Again the bull bellowed, and this time several other bulls lent their voices to the terror-inspiring chorus. We ran to the top of the highest mound near us, and thence we made out five or six bulls, with their tails up in the air, rushing towards us, following one whose voice we first heard. The spot on which we stood afforded us no protection, for the beasts would have rushed up it in a moment, but a couple of hundred yards on was a rock with steep sides, just rising above the grass; and our only chance of safety was to climb it before the horns of the first bull had reached our backs. Had he come directly on, as fast as his legs could carry him, this we should have
had no chance of doing; but instead of that, he every now and then stuck his sharp ugly-looking horns into the grass, and tossed it above his head, as if to show how he intended to treat us when he caught us. We rushed on with our eyes fixed on the rock, not venturing to look behind, and expecting every moment to feel his horns at our backs. We kept a tight hold of our guns, but unfortunately dropped our wallets and the game we had shot. On we ran and on came the bull; the rock was a dozen yards before us, and he was not much further off in our rear. We sprang on; Jerry tripped over a lump of decayed grass, but he picked himself up, and, crying to me not to stop, followed me. The face of the rock was too perpendicular directly in front to allow me to get up it, but a little to the right it was more broken. I sprang towards the place, and scrambled up. Jerry reached the foot of the rock; the bull was making for the right side, where he had seen me climb up. In another moment he would have pinned Jerry to the rock, or tossed him up to me.