Forest and Frontiers; Or, Adventures Among the Indians
History
Forest and Frontiers; Or, Adventures Among the Indians
Hunting; Indians of North America
The eland has less speed than any other variety of antelope; and, by
judicious riding, they may be driven to camp from a great distance. In
this manner I have often ridden the best bull out of the herd, and
brought him within gunshot of my wagons, where I could more
conveniently cut up and preserve the flesh, without the trouble of
sending men and packoxen to fetch it. I have repeatedly seen an eland
drop down dead at the end of a severe chase, owing to his plethoric
habit. The skin of the eland I had just shot emitted, like most other
antelopes, the most delicious perfume of trees and grass.
Having eaten my steak, I rode to my wagon, where I partook of coffee,
and having mounted a fresh horse, I again set forth accompanied by
Carollus leading a packhorse, to bring home the head of the eland and
a supply of the flesh; I took all my dogs along with me to share in
the banquet. We had not proceeded far when the dogs went ahead on some
scent. Spurring my horse, I followed through some thorny bushes as
best I might, and emerging on an open glade, I beheld two huge white
rhinoceroses trotting along before me. The dogs attacked them with
fury, and a scene of intense excitement ensued. The Old Gray, on
observing them, pricked up his ears, and seemed only half inclined to
follow, but a sharp application of the spur reminded him of his duty,
and I was presently riding within ten yards of the stem of the
largest, and sent a bullet through her back. The Old Grey shied
considerably and became very unmanageable, and on one occasion, in
consequence, the rhinoceros, finding herself hemmed in by a bend in a
watercourse, turned round to charge, I had a very narrow escape.
Presently, galloping up on one side, I gave her a bad wound in the
shoulder, soon after which she came to bay in the dry bed of a river.
Dismounting from my horse, I commenced loading, but before this was
accomplished she was off once more. I followed her, putting on my caps
as I rode, and coming up alongside, I made a fine shot from the
saddle, firing at the gallop. The ball entered somewhere near her
heart. On receiving this shot she reeled about, while torrents of
blood flowed from her mouth and wounds, and presently she rolled over
and expired, uttering a shrill screaming sound as she died, which
rhinoceroses invariably do while in the agonies of death.
The chase had led me close in along the northern base of a lofty
detached mountain, the highest in all that country. The mountain is
called, by the Bechuanas, the Mountain of the Eagles. The eland which
I had shot in the morning lay somewhere to the southward of this
mountain, but far in the level forest. Having rounded the mountain, I
began to recognise the ground.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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