Hunter Quatermains Story | Page 6

ran
at full speed down the slope of the koppie, and across the space of plain
below to the spring of water, where my camp had been. I was soon
there, only to find that my worst suspicions were confirmed.
"The waggon and all its contents, including my spare guns and
ammunition, had been destroyed by a grass fire.
"Now before I started, I had left orders with the driver to burn off the
grass round the camp, in order to guard against accidents of this nature,

and here was the reward of my folly: a very proper illustration of the
necessity, especially where natives are concerned, of doing a thing
one's self if one wants it done at all. Evidently the lazy rascals had not
burnt round the waggon; most probably, indeed, they had themselves
carelessly fired the tall and resinous tambouki grass near by; the wind
had driven the flames on to the waggon tent, and there was quickly an
end of the matter. As for the driver and leader, I know not what became
of them: probably fearing my anger, they bolted, taking the oxen with
them. I have never seen them from that hour to this.
"I sat down on the black veldt by the spring, and gazed at the charred
axles and disselboom of my waggon, and I can assure you, ladies and
gentlemen, I felt inclined to weep. As for Mashune and Hans they
cursed away vigorously, one in Zulu and the other in Dutch. Ours was a
pretty position. We were nearly 300 miles away from Bamangwato, the
capital of Khama's country, which was the nearest spot where we could
get any help, and our ammunition, spare guns, clothing, food, and
everything else, were all totally destroyed. I had just what I stood in,
which was a flannel shirt, a pair of 'veldt-schoons,' or shoes of raw hide,
my eight-bore rifle, and a few cartridges. Hans and Mashune had also
each a Martini rifle and some cartridges, not many. And it was with this
equipment that we had to undertake a journey of 300 miles through a
desolate and almost uninhabited region. I can assure you that I have
rarely been in a worse position, and I have been in some queer ones.
However, these things are the natural incidents of a hunter's life, and
the only thing to do was to make the best of them.
"Accordingly, after passing a comfortless night by the remains of my
waggon, we started next morning on our long journey towards
civilization. Now if I were to set to work to tell you all the troubles and
incidents of that dreadful journey I should keep you listening here till
midnight; so I will, with your permission, pass on to the particular
adventure of which the pair of buffalo horns opposite are the
melancholy memento.
"We had been travelling for about a month, living and getting along as
best we could, when one evening we camped some forty miles from

Bamangwato. By this time we were indeed in a melancholy plight,
footsore, half starved, and utterly worn out; and, in addition, I was
suffering from a sharp attack of fever, which half blinded me and made
me weak as a babe. Our ammunition, too, was exhausted; I had only
one cartridge left for my eight-bore rifle, and Hans and Mashune, who
were armed with Martini Henrys, had three between them. It was about
an hour from sundown when we halted and lit a fire--for luckily we had
still a few matches. It was a charming spot to camp, I remember. Just
off the game track we were following was a little hollow, fringed about
with flat-crowned mimosa trees, and at the bottom of the hollow, a
spring of clear water welled up out of the earth, and formed a pool,
round the edges of which grew an abundance of watercresses of an
exactly similar kind to those which were handed round the table just
now. Now we had no food of any kind left, having that morning
devoured the last remains of a little oribé antelope, which I had shot
two days previously. Accordingly Hans, who was a better shot than
Mashune, took two of the three remaining Martini cartridges, and
started out to see if he could not kill a buck for supper. I was too weak
to go myself.
"Meanwhile Mashune employed himself in dragging together some
dead boughs from the mimosa trees to make a sort of 'skerm,' or shelter
for us to sleep in, about forty yards from the edge of the pool of water.
We had been greatly troubled with lions in the course of our long tramp,
and only on the previous night have very nearly been attacked by them,
which made me