Part 15 (1/2)
”Now then, Jolwane,” said Jim, addressing one of them, who, from his age and standing, had const.i.tuted himself, or been const.i.tuted, head of his countrymen there a.s.sembled, ”we'll sweep down this bush first,”
indicating the long deep kloof which sloped away in front of them.
”Send half your fellows on the other side and I'll take my dogs and beat this. We'll take it straight down.”
”Ewa 'nkos,” (yes, chief), replied the Kafir, and he straightway issued directions to his followers, involving much discussion and voluminous explanation.
”Now then--confound it all, are you fellows going to stand jawing all day?” said Jim, testily. ”Off you go,” and the Kafirs gathering up their kerries--a few of them carried a.s.segais as well--moved off in twos and threes, still chattering volubly. ”Jeffreys,” he went on, ”take Arthur where he'll get a shot; better go on to that open place yonder, that'll be exactly where I shall be driving down, and a buck always runs out there. Naylor, you put Allen up somewhere, better go the other side. The rest of you can _voerlay_ [lie in wait] anywhere down in the bottom. Thorman, you know the place as well as I do, so can go where you like.”
”Ik zal mit you ryd, ou kerel,” (I shall ride with you, old fellow), said Isaac van Rooyen. ”The younger ones want all the shots.”
”All right, Oom Isaac,” replied Jim. ”Now then, look sharp and get to your places, and we'll begin.”
All move off as directed, making a detour to get well round the tract to be driven, so as not to alarm the quarry; and at length, now cantering, now scrambling down some awfully steep and stony bit of ground, they reach a tolerably open s.p.a.ce about one thousand yards from where they started. Here they leave the horses, and, descending the steep hillside, they separate. A cordon of shooters is thus formed across the valley, each man ensconcing himself in some snug ambush, where he lies in wait with piece c.o.c.ked and ready, silent and alert, waiting for the quarry to break cover.
And now the whole ravine echoes with loud and discordant voices, the yelling of the native curs in full cry mingles with the deeper bay of the larger dogs; and the shouts of the Kafirs and the cras.h.i.+ng of the underwood as they force their way through it, beating to right and to left with their sticks, draw nearer and nearer. Bang! The report of a gun in the thick of the scrub is answered by a terrific yell from the dogs, who rush to the spot. A buck has got up in front of Jim, who, with the Dutchman, is riding through the bush, hounding on his pack.
The path here is fairly open, consequently the animal has not gone many yards before it falls in a heap, for an unerring eye is behind the barrels that covered it.
”Got him,” says Jim, putting a fresh cartridge into his smoking barrel.
”Bring him on, some of you fellows, I must go on driving;” and the Kafirs, beating the dogs off the fallen animal, perform in a trice the necessary preliminaries, while a loud exultant whoop, from one to the other of them, tells that blood has been drawn.
”Look out, Allen,” says Naylor, in a quick warning whisper, ”there's something coming out by you.” They were about a dozen yards apart, Allen being of the two far the better placed, as his range commanded a large open s.p.a.ce, a clear sixty yards beneath him, across which something was almost sure to run, while Naylor's only covered a higher bit of ground where a snap shot was all he could hope for; but like a good-natured fellow he had placed the other in the better position.
Allen starts, rigidly grips his gun in his excitement, and eyes the brake in front of him. The cras.h.i.+ng of the underwood draws nearer and nearer, and a large bushbuck ram breaks cover. As it does so it catches sight of Naylor half hidden behind a tree, shears off at a tangent, and comes charging down nearly on the top of Allen, whose heart is in his mouth, and he wildly bangs away with both barrels point-blank, as the animal bounds past him within a yard, missing it clean. In a moment it will have reached covert, the dread open safely crossed, when--Crack!
the buck rolls over and over with three or four loopers from Naylor's shot barrel fairly in his carcase. But ”many a slip”--he recovers himself, leaps up and bounds away into the bush.
”He's hard hit,” says his slayer, running to the spot; ”it was a devil of a long shot, though. Look what a lot of blood he's dropped! We'll put the dogs on him directly. He's a gone c.o.o.n, anyhow.”
”I can't make out how I managed to miss him,” is Allen's doleful remark.
He is terribly mortified, poor fellow.
”You didn't get a fair shot at him. I thought he was going clean over you. Never mind, you'll get a better chance soon,” says good-natured Naylor. He thought the other rather a m.u.f.f, but was too good a fellow to say so.
Bang! Bang!
Who is in luck's way now? Bang, bang! again. A couple of bucks have dodged the ambushed shooters, and are making off along the high ground outside the line, making for the adjacent kloof, and Armitage and the younger Dutchman, who are nearest to them, are having rifle practice at long range. Four hundred yards--then the sights are altered to five.
Bang! bang! the animals still keep on, though the last shot has thrown up a cloud of dust perilously near the hinder one. Then the six hundred yards is reached. Another minute and they will be over the hill and safe, at any rate for the present, when a ball from young Van Booyen's rifle strikes the hindermost, which halts in mid course with a spring and a shudder, and rolls over, dead as a door-nail.
”Well done, Piet. By George, that was a good shot!” exclaimed the unsuccessful compet.i.tor.
”_Ja, kerel_,” replied the Dutchman, with a complacent grin, as he fished out his tobacco-pouch.
Claverton is standing where he and Jeffreys had been directed to. He has refused to avail himself of his privilege of guest and to take the best place, so they have split the difference by standing near each other. It is a fine open bit which promises two or three shots at least, for whatever comes out on that side of the kloof is bound to break cover there. At last Jeffreys gets tired of waiting; he is of opinion that everything has run across, and all the fun is on the other side, so he makes for his horse and announces his intention of waiting up above for Jim. Claverton however, remains. He is standing under a mimosa tree and is partly sheltered from view by a large stone, and has a beautiful clear s.p.a.ce for at least eighty yards on either side of him.
Haow!--ow--ow! The shouts of the Kafirs come nearer and nearer, and the loud-mouthed chorus of the dogs in one incessant clamour which is never suffered to die, so quickly is it taken up by fresh throats, rings from the steep hillsides as the rout sweeps down the kloof. A gentle rustling approaches, and a graceful animal bounds into the open, and its ambushed foe can mark the glint of its soft eye and the s.h.i.+ny points of its straight horns. It is a young bushbuck ram, and as it crosses the open Claverton waits till it has just pa.s.sed him and fires. It is scarcely twenty-five yards from him, yet it is unharmed, and disappears in the opposite cover with a rush and a bound.
Claverton shakes his head and whistles softly. ”_What_ a shot!” he says. Then he looks up and catches sight of Will Jeffreys watching him with a sneering smile upon his face, and the sight angers him for a moment.
”Look out--look out, Arthur,” sounds Jim's voice close at hand.