Twenty-Five Years in a Waggon in South Africa: Sport and Travel in South AfricaAnderson, Andrew A.
History
Twenty-Five Years in a Waggon in South Africa: Sport and Travel in South Africa
Anderson, Andrew A.
Africa, Southern -- Description and travel; Anderson, Andrew A. -- Travel -- Africa, Southern
At night some leopards paid my camp a visit; a few sheep I kept as a
reserve for the road appear to have been the cause of their troubling
me. A Bushman and his son came early in the morning and told my boys
where the leopards could be found, and as their skins made splendid
karosses, we arranged to hunt them down if possible, taking the Bushman
as guide to point the way. Three of my boys, myself and two dogs,
followed the spoor for several hundred yards. Up amongst the spurs of
the mountain, the old Bushman pointed to a ledge of rocks overhanging
others, surrounded by bush. We then sent the dogs to ascertain their
whereabouts, for we knew there were at least two by their spoor on the
sand. As soon as the dogs, by their barking and unmistakable fear,
showed exactly where they were, we took up our position on separate
rocks, forty yards distant from the tigers' den. Two of my boys were to
keep up a fire into where we knew them to be, myself and driver kept
ready to overhaul any that might come out. We heard nothing but low
growls from time to time; the affair began to be interesting. After
nearly a dozen bullets had been sent in, out came a fine male leopard at
one bound over some bushes, looking anything but amiable, and took a
deliberate survey of his surroundings, his fine spotted skin shining in
the sunlight--a beautiful animal. But this was only for a few moments;
three bullets entered his body at once, when he gave a spring, and fell
on one side, and as he did not appear quite dead I gave him another in
the region of the heart, for I have known them drop like this, and then
spring up and seize upon those near them. The other, which we concluded
was the female, made her escape amongst the rocks. I then set the
Bushman and my Hottentot boy to take off the skin, and the rest returned
to the camp, where we found the dogs lying down by the fire, evidently
ashamed of their desertion by their fawning manner to make friends.
Animals have more sense than instinct; they knew perfectly well they had
done wrong in leaving us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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