Forest and Frontiers; Or, Adventures Among the Indians by Roualeyn Gordon-Cumming (learn to read activity book .TXT) 📕

tails to her. I knelt on one side, and, taking aim at her breast, let fly. The ball cracked loudly on her tawny hide, and crippled her in the shoulder, upon which she charged with an appalling roar, and in the twinkling of an eye she was in the midst of us, At this moment Stofolus's rifle exploded in his hand, and Kleinboy, whom I had ordered to stand ready by me, danced about like a duck in a gale of wind.

The lioness sprang upon Colesberg, and fearfully lacerated his ribs and haunches with her horrid teeth and claws; the worst wound was on his haunch, which exhibited a sickening, yawning gash, more than twelve inches long, almost laying bare the very bone. I was very cool and steady, and did not feel in the least degree nervous, having fortunately great confidence in my own shooting; but I must confess, when the whole affair was over, I felt that it was a very awful situation, and attended with extreme peril, as I had no friend with me on whom I could rely.

When the lioness sprang on Colesberg, I stood out from the horses, ready with my second barrel for the first chance she should give of a clear shot. This she quickly did; for, seemingly satisfied with the revenge She had now taken, she quitted Colesberg, and slewing her tail to one side, trotted sulkily past within a few paces of me, taking one step to the left. I pitched my rifle to my shoulder, and in another second the lioness was stretched on the plain a lifeless corpse.

In the struggles of death she half turned on her back, and stretched her neck and fore arms convulsively, when she fell back to her former position; her mighty arms hung powerless by her side, her lower jaw fell, blood streamed from her mouth, and she expired. At the moment I fired my second shot, Stofolus, who hardly knew whether he was alive or dead, allowed the three horses to escape. These galloped frantically across the plain, on which he and Kleinboy instantly started after them, leaving me standing alone, and unarmed, within a few feet of the lioness, which they from their anxiety to be out of the way, evidently considered quite capable of doing further mischief.

Hunting the Blauwbok and Buffalo.

Among the various kinds of antelopes which inhabit South Africa, the blauwbok, or blue buck, called by Mr. Cumming, the blue antelope, is one of the most remarkable. It is six feet in length, three feet and a half high to the back, and very compactly made. The horns are more than two feet in length, round, closely annulated to within six inches of the tips, bent back in a uniform but moderate curve, and very sharp at the points. The general color of the hair is gray, with the insides of the ears, a streak before each eye, the insides of the legs, and a few hairs along the ridge of the neck, white. The hair on the body divides on the line of the back, and is rather coarse and open.

The skin under it on the upper part of the living animal is a black, which shining through the grey, produces a sort of raven-blue tint. It is the epidermis only and not the mucous tissue which has this black color, otherwise the hair would have it; and it fades when the animal is dead, as is the case with a highly-colored epidermis in almost all animals.

This animal was frequently pursued and shot by Mr. Cumming, in his African hunts, and his flesh was found to be excellent.

The Cape buffalo, or African buffalo, was a more troublesome object of chase. This animal, has a most formidable front, and its general aspect is shaggy and formidable. The horns are the most compact, and in their substance the heaviest of all the ruminating animals, excepting only some of those of the antelopes. This animal is considerably lower than the Indian buffalo; but it is firmer, though shorter in the legs, rounder in the body; and the beard and short mane give it a rugged appearance. This is by far the most formidable animal of the genus. It has never been tamed, and the males are dangerous to come near.

Mr. Cumming thus describes one of his encounters with this animal, by himself and Ruyter, a Bushman, a favorite servant.

On the forenoon of the 26th, I rode to hunt, accompanied by Ruyter; we held west, skirting the wooded stony mountains. The natives had here many years before waged successful war with elephants, four of whose skulls I found. Presently I came across two sassaybies, one of which I knocked over; but while I was loading he regained his legs and made off. We crossed a level stretch of forest, holding a northerly course for an opposite range of green, well wooded hills and valleys. Here I came upon a troop of six fine old bull buffaloes, into which I stalked, and wounded one princely fellow behind the shoulder, bringing blood from nis mouth; he, however made off with his comrades, and the ground being very rough we failed to overtake him. They held for the Ngotwani. After following the spoor for a couple of miles, we dropped it, as it led right away from camp.

Returning from this chase, we had an adventure with another old bull buffalo, which shows the extreme danger of hunting buffaloes without dogs. We started him in a green hollow among the hills, and his course inclining for camp, I gave him chase. He crossed the level broad strath and made for the opposite densely wooded range of mountains. Along the base of these we followed him, sometimes in view, sometimes on the spoor, keeping the old fellow at a pace which made him pant. At length, finding himself much distressed, he had recourse to a singular stratagem. Doubling round some thick bushes which obscured him from our view, he found himself beside a small pool of rain water, just deep enough to cover his body; into this he walked, and facing about, lay gently down and awaited our on-coming, with nothing but his old grey face and massive horns above the water, and these concealed from our view by rank overhanging herbage.

Our attention was entirely engrossed with the spoor, and thus we rode boldly on until within a few feet of him, when springing to his feet, he made a desperate charge after Ruyter, uttering a low, stifling roar, peculiar to buffaloes, (somewhat similar to the growl of a lion) and hurled horse and rider to the ground with fearful violence. His horns laid the poor horse's haunches open to the bone, making the most fearful ragged wound.

In an instant Ruyter regained his feet and ran for his life, which the buffalo observing, gave chase, but most fortunately came down with a tremendous somersault in the mud, his feet slipping from under him; thus the Bushman escaped certain destruction. The buffalo rose much discomfited, and, the wounded horse first catching his eye, he went a second time at him, but he got out of the way. At this moment I managed to send one of my patent pacificating pills into his shoulder, when he instantly quitted the scene of action, and sought shelter in a dense cover on the mountain side, whither I deemed it imprudent to follow him.

Adventures with snakes.

The following stories of fascination by snakes, is copied from "Arthur's Home Gazette." It is no fiction; but is contributed by a gentleman of Tennessee, who is willing to vouch for the truth of what he relates.

It has been a thousand times affirmed, and as often denied, that certain serpents possess the power—independent of the touch—of paralyzing their proposed victims. And it seems to be generally admitted that this is done, if done at all, by the eye; for those theorists who ascribe it to poison inhaled through the nostrils of the charmed ones, offer us no example to confirm their theory, or to make it worthy of a second thought. In extended rambles, alone as well as with society, I have made the study of serpents a matter of amusement, and familiarized myself—at least I had done so ten years back—to handle them without any flesh-shrinking. As I got older, and my nerves become weakened by long exposure to the seasons and to midnight studies, more debilitating than Texas "northers," I must confess that I am more timid; but I can yet join a hunt, or project one in good "snake weather," with considerable gusto. I have never met with a snake that could charm me, look he never so keenly, although I have faced them till they got tired, uncoiled, and beat an inglorious retreat. And I am sure that I never smell anything about a snake, calculated to excite any other emotions or motions except holding the nose. And finally I never found a snake or snakelet that I would turn my heel upon to flee, and for the very good reason that the animal in question always runs first.

So, ye manufacturers of snake stories horrific, amusive, or instructive, put that against your tales of blacksnakes, copperheads, cotton-mouths, horn-tails, water-mocassins, and the whole tribe else.

But as to the fascination, what of that?

Why, although I have never been fascinated, or seen a person in that singular situation, yet I am a firm believer in the art, a believer against my wishes—because evidence indisputable has been furnished me, and in abundance. Now I leave out of the question, all the influences of fright, surprise, etc., also all the humbug stories of novel writers and romancers in private life, and yet there is a remainder that I cannot cast out. One or two anecdotes, and then I come to my principal proof.

A gentleman of my acquaintance, passing along a bridle path, observed a mouse running backwards and forwards, upon a fallen log, as if in great terror. Reining in this horse, he paused full ten minutes, and until the mouse disappeared on the farther side of the log. Drawing nearer, and peeping over, his suspicions of Lucifer's guile were verified—for mousey was within three inches of his open jaw, "irresistibly attracted," said the narrator, "although he was drawing back with all his might." The latter part of the tale is fishy—for the gentleman was twenty feet off, and could not nave seen that—but he saw the mouse finally disappear in that cavernous gullet; and when he killed the snake-a large black one—the mouse lay in its stomach, without a wound. How will that do?

Another, well authenticated. A young man, of some twenty years, passing along the road to school, on foot, was observed by some of his companions in the rear to pause suddenly and look down. His fellows intent on their conversation, were several minutes coming up; but when they did so they witnessed a veritable case of fascination—for the young man was looking intently into the eyes of a large rattlesnake, coiled at his feet; nor could the voices of all his friends arouse him. Being jerked back with some violence, he instantly recovered his senses, but seemed to be puzzled to recall the circumstances connected with his first view of the snake. After a mental effort he explained, while the cold sweat poured from his face, and his limbs were flaccid as an infant's, that the sound of a rattle had caused him to stop short—that a pleasant halo danced before his eyes, and sweet sounds met his ears—and that from that instant until the conclusion of the trance, "he was as happy as he ever expected to be!"

But now for the hardest knock of conviction. I will give it in the language of the original narrator—premising that opponents to the theory of serpent attraction must knock under, or flatly contradict my tale. In the latter event, I shall be compelled to settle the question as Hodginson did his lawsuit, "by exhibiting the skin and parading the witnesses."

"In the month of April, a few years back," commences the witness, "I took my eldest chap, an eight year old boy, but stout and bold enough for a twelve year old—and sauntered down to Beech river, to spend the evening [Footnote: Evening, in this place, signifies from noon until dark; that's the Southern and Western notion always.] fishing. Finding a large beech, whose spreading roots formed a natural easy chair, with arms to it, I threw my line into the stream, and myself into the cavity, to take the thing deliberately as I generally do on such occasions. There had been a rise in Beech river sufficient to muddy the water, and I knew the only chance was for cat (bull-pouts the Yankees call them,) so I chose a big hook and baited with a chunk of bacon, big enough for an eight-pounder at least. That hook was a Limerick, for which