South Africa -- History -- Frontier Wars, 1811-1878
The great sportsman at the camp was a man called Watson. He had been a
keeper in England. He was master of all sorts of dodges for trapping,
shooting, and stuffing of game. He had observed, near an abandoned
cattle-kraal at a neighbouring farm, a large pool of stagnant water,
around which he had made out, amid the many marks of wild animals, the
spoor of a leopard, which he pretended was the same brute that had
given me such a boxing-lesson in the kloof. Dix, Watson, and Nap now
set to work to sink a hole not far from the pond, around which they
placed a circle of bushes. They made, however, such a dense turret,
that it was impossible to obtain an entrance into it. I explained to
them that the only way for me to gain admittance would be for one of
them to be tied with a rope, and then, bodkin-fashion, to be pushed
through the prickly bush to make an entrance. This plan, however, did
not quite satisfy them.
The only other method of proceeding was to throw their leather jackets
on the top of the turret, and to place myself thereon. This pin-cushion
was not, however, stout enough, and let the thorns through; so, after
several attempts, in which I got severely pricked somewhere for my
pains, I gave the setting dodge up. It was finally decided that the
turret was to be removed; that we were to station ourselves at various
parts of the building, a couple of goats being attached in a prominent
place to attract the leopard to the spot, and a volley from us all was
to settle the question. In accordance with this suggestion, the next
day the goats were brought, and pegged down, as we had previously
determined. Dix had also brought some fowls, which he pretended, by
their crowing, would greatly enhance the chance of attracting the
leopard’s attention. We persisted in this plan for several days, but
with so little promise of success, that I thought the odds were more
in favour of attracting stray Kaffirs towards us, and being made game
of ourselves. This not answering my sporting programme, I returned to
the original plan of placing myself in the hole, which was sufficiently
deep to conceal me; and there, without covering of any sort, to await
the advent of any four-footed beast that would kindly come to the
rendezvous.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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