The narrative of an explorer in tropical South AfricaGalton, Francis
History
The narrative of an explorer in tropical South Africa
Galton, Francis
South Africa -- Description and travel
I had, but now worn out by the Ondonga journey) along the Swakop, when he
saw something dusky by the side of a camelthorn tree, two hundred yards
off. This was a lion, that rose and walked towards him: Hans had his
gun in his gun-bag by the side of his saddle, and rode on, for there is
no use in provoking hostilities single-handed with a lion, unless some
object has to be gained by it, as every sportsman at last acknowledges.
The coolest hand and the best shot are never safe, for a bullet, however
well aimed, is not certain to put the animal _hors de combat_. After the
lion had walked some twenty or thirty yards, Frieschland, the ox, either
saw or smelt him, and became furious. Hans had enough to do to keep his
seat; for a powerful long-horned ox tossing his head about and plunging
wildly is a most awkward hack for the best of jockeys. The lion galloped
up. He and Hans were side by side. The lion made his spring, and one
heavy paw came on the nape of the ox’s neck, and rolled him over; the
other clutched at Hans’ arm, and tore the sleeve of his shirt to ribbons,
but did not wound him, and there they all three lay. Hans, though he was
thrown upon his gun, contrived to wriggle it out, the lion snarling and
clutching at him all the time; but for all that, he put both bullets into
the beast’s body, who dropped, then turned round, and limped bleeding
away into the recesses of a broad thick cover; and of course Hans, shaken
as he was, let him go. There were no dogs to follow him, so he was
allowed to die in peace; and subsequently his spoor was taken up, and his
remains found.
Probably many more people are killed by lions than one hears of, for
the most frequent victims are paupers who scatter themselves about the
country, squatting on the ground and crowing pig-nuts; they become so
absorbed in their occupation that a lion could easily crouch behind
and spring upon them. Numbers of people are reported to be missing in
Damara-land, but no one cares to search out their fate. I made a list
once of the people I had met with who had been wounded by lions, but I
have lost it. It was a very long one. The wounds were always bad ones to
heal. They frequently became almost well, and then broke out afresh.
_26th._—We were now fairly _en route_, and had entered the Bushman
country; we travelled along the brow of a long ridge that rose insensibly
to perhaps 1000 feet above a wide plain, which stretched far away to the
east, and was covered with timber trees;—this was the margin of the great
desert. I was told that we should continue journeying along this ridge
till we reached the furthest point that Amiral’s men had yet travelled
to, and thence our course would, if we intended to go to ’Tounobis, lie
across this plain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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