Six Months at the Cape | Page 6

will, but a howl from Michael caused me to look round. He was trending off in another direction, and pointing violently towards something. He spoke nothing but Dutch. My acquaintance with that tongue was limited to the single word "Ja."
He was aware of this, and his visage became all eyes and mouth in his frantic effort to assure me it would be wise were I to follow his lead.
I turned at once and galloped alongside of him in faith.
It soon became clear what he aimed at. The horsemen on the far off horizon were driving the springboks towards the stream which bounded one side of the great plain, Mike was making for the bushes that bordered that stream in the hope of reaching them before the boks should observe us.
Oh! it was a glorious burst, that first race over the wild Karroo, on a spirited steed, in the freshness of early morning--
With the silent bushboy alone by my side,
for he was silent, though tremendously excited. His brown rags fluttered in the self-made breeze, and his brown pony scrambled over the ground quite as fast as Rob Roy. We reached a clump of underwood in time, and pulled up, panting, beside a bush which was high enough to conceal the horses.
Anxiously we watched here, and carefully did I look to my rifle,--a double-barrelled breech-loading "Soaper-Henry,"--to see that it was loaded and cocked, and frequently did I take aim at stump and stone to get my hand and eye well "in," and admiringly, with hope in every lineament, did Michael observe me.
"See anything of them, Mike?" I asked.
I might as well have asked a baboon. Mike only grinned, but Mike's grin once seen was not easily forgotten.
Suddenly Mike caught sight of something, and bolted. I followed. At the same moment pop! pop! went rifles in different parts of the plain. We could not see anything distant for the bushes, but presently we came to the edge of an open space, into which several springboks were trotting with a confusedly surprised air.
"Now, Sar,--now's you chance," said Mike, using the only English sentence he possessed, and laying hold of the bridle of my horse.
I was on the ground and down on one knee in such a hurry, that to this day I know not by what process I got off the horse.
Usually, when thus taken by surprise, the springboks stop for a moment or two and gaze at the kneeling hunter. This affords a splendid though brief chance to take good aim, but the springboks were not inquisitive that day. They did not halt. I had to take a running shot, and the ball fell short, to my intense mortification. I had sighted for three hundred yards. Sighting quickly for five hundred, while the frightened animals were scampering wildly away, I put a ball in the dust just between the legs of one.
The leap which that creature gave was magnificent. Much too high to be guessed at with a hope of being believed! The full significance of the animal's name was now apparent. Charging a breech-loader is rapid work, but the flock was nine hundred or a thousand yards off before I could again take aim. In despair I fired and sent a bullet into the midst of them, but without touching one.
I now turned to look at the "boy," who was sitting on his pony with both eyes nearly shut, and a smile so wide that the double row of his teeth were exposed to the very last grinders!
But he became extremely grave and sympathetic as I turned towards him, and made a remark in Dutch which was doubtless equivalent to "better luck next time."
Remounting I rode to the edge of the clump of bushes and found several of my companions, some of whom carried the carcasses of springboks at their cruppers. Hope revived at once, and I set off with them in search of another flock.
"You've failed, I see," remarked my friend Jonathan Hobson in a sympathetic tone.
Ah! what a blessed thing is sympathy!
"Yes," said I; "my shots fell short."
"Don't let that discourage you," returned Jonathan, "you're not used to the Karroo. Distance is very deceptive. Sighting one's rifle is the chief difficulty in these regions, but you'll soon come to it."
Another flock of springboks was discovered at this moment on a distant knoll, towards which we trotted, trippled, and cantered. We quickly scattered,--each man taking his own course. Six-foot Johnny, already burdened with a buck, went off at reckless speed. He soon came near enough to cause the game to look up inquiringly. This made him draw rein, and advance with caution in a sidling and indirect manner. In a few minutes the boks trotted off. We were now within long range, and made a dash at racing-speed to head them.