Campaigning in Kaffirland; Or, Scenes and Adventures in the Kaffir War of 1851-52King, William Ross
History
Campaigning in Kaffirland; Or, Scenes and Adventures in the Kaffir War of 1851-52
King, William Ross
South Africa -- History -- Frontier Wars, 1811-1878
Having leave from the Colonel Commanding to rejoin the column at the
evening halting place, we exchanged our horses for the fresh ones led
by the servants; and replenishing our ammunition from the pack saddles,
set off with three or four companions in the direction of the herd
of wildebeest. We soon fell in with several large herds of springbok,
though they were too wild to allow of our coming within rifle range; a
few blesbok, the largest of the antelope tribe, were sighted, but were
equally wary. From a low ridge we now saw the most magnificent sight;
on an immense plain hundreds of wildebeest grazed in herds scattered
far and near, with springbok and blesbok. I shall never forget the
exciting interest with which, for the first time, we saw these noble
animals feeding in herds on their native plains, or the thrill of
pleasure it gave us as we watched them through the telescope cropping
the short brown herbage, switching the flies from their dark glossy
sides, and impatiently stamping their delicate taper legs. As we lay
concealed behind some large stones, we observed the rest of our party
stealing unperceived round the principal and nearest herd, so that
presently it was between us. Gazing at us as we rapidly approached,
they angrily tossed their heads, bounded into the air snorting and
making most extraordinary noises, and went off full gallop, the waving
mass of manes and tails flying before us with the thundering of a
thousand hoofs over the sun-baked earth, which was covered so thickly
with the skulls of gnu and antelope, as to make it dangerous riding.
A fine old bull, with long white tail and mane, being detached from
the rest, was followed by three of us for several miles, after which
I found myself quite alone in the pursuit. Every few hundred yards
he would turn round and stare at me, snorting and throwing up his
head; when I dismounted and fired, he kicked up his heels into the
air, wheeling about in the most fantastic and absurd style, and off
he cantered again, his tail whisking round and round without ceasing;
every now and then as if seized with some sudden whim, he would spring
into the air and go off harder than ever, flinging out his heels right
and left. In our course we passed through several astonished herds
with which he appeared to have no acquaintance. Suddenly I found
myself in a perfect nest of large holes, the burrows of wild-dogs,
when the undermined earth breaking through, my horse rolled over, the
old wildebeest, not 300 yards off, looking at us as much as to say, _I
knew how it would be_. Without rising, I fired at his forehead; the
ball struck one of his horns with a sharp crack, he butted savagely
at the ground and flew off full speed. My next bullet hit him in the
neck, when he rushed right at me, my horse running back in affright
and pulling the rein off my arm. I dropped behind an ant-heap as he
charged, and firing a pistol in his face which made him swerve a few
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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