The Bush Boys Part 27

One precaution they had taken, which they had not thought of before.

All of them had heard that an ordinary leaden bullet will not penetrate the tough thick skin of the great "pachyderm." Perhaps this had been the cause of their failure on the preceding day. If so they had provided against the recurrence of failure from such a cause. They had moulded a new set of b.a.l.l.s of harder material,--solder it should have been, but they had none. They chanced, however, to be in possession of what served the purpose equally well--the old "plate" that had often graced the field-cornet's table in his better byegone days of the Graaf Reinet. This consisted of candlesticks, and snuffer-trays, and dish-covers, and cruet-stands, and a variety of articles of the real "Dutch metal."

Some of these were condemned to the alembic of the melting-pan; and, mixed with the common lead, produced a set of b.a.l.l.s hard enough for the hide of the rhinoceros itself--so that this day the hunters had no fears of failure upon the score of soft bullets.

They went in the same direction as upon the preceding day, towards the forest or "bush" (bosch), as they termed it.

They had not proceeded a mile when they came upon the spoor of elephants nearly fresh. It pa.s.sed through the very thickest of the th.o.r.n.y jungle--where no creature but an elephant, a rhinoceros, or a man with an axe, could have made way. A family must have pa.s.sed, consisting of a male, a female or two, and several young ones of different ages. They had marched in single file, as elephants usually do; and had made a regular lane several feet wide, which was quite clear of bushes, and trampled by their immense footsteps. The old bull, Swartboy said, had gone in advance, and had cleared the way of all obstructions, by means of his trunk and tusks. This had evidently been the case, for the hunters observed huge branches broken off, or still hanging and turned to one side, out of the way--just as if the hand of man had done it.

Swartboy further affirmed, that such elephant-roads usually led to water; and by the very easiest and shortest routes--as if they had been planned and laid open by the skill of an engineer--showing the rare instinct or sagacity of these animals.

The hunters, therefore, expected soon to arrive at some watering-place; but it was equally probable the spoor might be leading them _from_ the water.

They had not followed it more than a quarter of a mile, when they came upon another road of a similar kind, that crossed the one they were spooring upon. This had also been made by a number of elephants--a family most likely--and the tracks upon it were as recent as those they had been following.

They hesitated for a moment which to take; but at length concluded upon keeping straight on; and so they moved forward as before.

To their great disappointment the trail at last led out into more open ground, where the elephants had scattered about; and after following the tracks of one, and then another without success, they got bewildered, and lost the spoor altogether.

While casting about to find it in a place where the bush was thin and straggling, Swartboy suddenly ran off to one side, calling to the others to follow him. Von Bloom and Hendrik went after to see what the Bushman was about. They thought he had seen an elephant, and both, considerably excited, had already pulled the covers off their guns.

There was no elephant, however. When they came up with Swartboy, he was standing under a tree, and pointing to the ground at its bottom.

The hunters looked down. They saw that the ground upon one side of the tree was trampled, as though horses or some other animals had been tied there for a long time, and had worn off the turf, and worked it into dust with their hoofs. The bark of the tree--a full-topped shady acacia--for some distance up was worn smooth upon one side, just as though cattle had used it for a rubbing-post.

"What has done it?" asked the field-cornet and Hendrik in a breath.

"Da olifant's slapen-boom," (the elephant's sleeping-tree), replied Swartboy.

No further explanation was necessary. The hunters remembered what they had been told about a curious habit which the elephant has--of leaning against a tree while asleep. This, then, was one of the sleeping-trees of these animals.

But of what use to them, farther than to gratify a little curiosity?

The elephant was not there.

"Da ole karl come again," said Swartboy.

"Ha! you think so, Swart?" inquired Von Bloom.

"Ya, baas, lookee da! spoor fresh--da groot olifant hab slap here yesterday."

"What then? you think we should lie in wait, and shoot him when he returns."

"No, baas, better dan shoot, we make him bed--den wait see um lie down."

Swartboy grinned a laugh as he gave this piece of advice.

"Make his bed! what do you mean?" inquired his master.

"I tell you, baas, we get da olifant sure, if you leave da job to ole Swart. I gib you de plan for take him, no waste powder, no waste bullet."

The Bushman proceeded to communicate his plan, to which his master-- remembering their failure of yesterday--readily gave his consent.

Fortunately they had all the implements that would be necessary for carrying it out,--a sharp axe, a strong rope or "rheim" of raw-hide, and their knives--and they set about the business without loss of time.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

MAKING THE ELEPHANT'S BED.

To the hunters time was a consideration. If the elephant should return that day, it would be just before the hottest hours of noon. They had, therefore, scarce an hour left to prepare for him--to "make his bed," as Swartboy had jocosely termed it. So they went to work with alacrity, the Bushman acting as director-general, while the other two received their orders from him with the utmost obedience.

The first work which Swartboy a.s.signed to them was, to cut and prepare three stakes of hard wood. They were to be each about three feet long, as thick as a man's arm, and pointed at one end. These were soon procured. The iron-wood (_Olca undulata_) which grew in abundance in the neighbourhood, furnished the very material; and after three pieces of sufficient length had been cut down with the axe, they were reduced to the proper size, and pointed by the knives of the hunters.

Meanwhile Swartboy had not been idle. First with his knife he had cut a large section of bark from the elephant's tree, upon the side against which the animal had been in the habit of leaning, and about three feet from the ground. Then with the axe he made a deep notch, where the bark had been removed--in fact, such a notch as would have caused the tree to fall had it been left to itself. But it was not, for before advancing so far in his work, Swartboy had taken measures to prevent that. He had stayed the tree by fastening the rheim to its upper branches on the _opposite_ side, and then carrying the rope to the limbs of another tree that stood out in that direction.

Thus adjusted, the elephant's tree was only kept from falling by the rheim-stay; and a slight push, in the direction of the latter, would have thrown over.

Swartboy now replaced the section of bark, which he had preserved; and after carefully collecting the chips, no one, without close examination, could have told that the tree had ever felt the edge of an axe.

Another operation yet remained to be performed--that was the planting of the stakes, already prepared by Von Bloom and Hendrik. To set these firmly deep holes had to be made. But Swartboy was just the man to make a hole; and in less than ten minutes he had sunk three, each over a foot deep, and not a half-inch wider than the thickness of the stakes!

You may be curious to know how he accomplished this. You would have dug a hole with a spade, and necessarily as wide as the spade itself. But Swartboy had no spade, and would not have used it if there had been one--since it would have made the holes too large for his purpose.

Swartboy sunk his holes by "crowing"--which process he performed by means of a small pointed stick. With this he first loosened the earth in a circle of the proper size. He then took out the detached mould, flung it away, and used the point of the "crowing stick" as before.

Another clearing out of mould, another application of the stick; and so on, till the narrow hole was deemed of sufficient depth. That was how Swartboy "crowed" the holes.

They were sunk in a kind of triangle near the bottom of the tree, but on the side opposite to that where the elephant would stand, should he occupy his old ground.

In each hole Swartboy now set a stake, thick end down and point upwards; some small pebbles, and a little mould worked in at the sides, wedged them as firmly as if they had grown there.

The stakes were now daubed over with soft earth, to conceal the white colour of the wood; the remaining chips were picked up, and all traces of the work completely obliterated. This done, the hunters withdraw from the spot.

They did not go far; but choosing a large bushy tree to leeward, all three climbed up into it, and sat concealed among its branches.

The field-cornet held his long "roer" in readiness, and so did Hendrik his rifle. In case the ingenious trap of Swartboy should fail, they intended to use their guns, but not otherwise.

It was now quite noon, and the day had turned into one of the hottest.

But for the shade afforded by the leaves, they would have felt it very distressing. Swartboy prognosticated favourably from this. The great heat would be more likely than anything else to send the elephant to his favourite sleeping-place under the cool shady cover of the cameel-doorn.

It was now quite noon. He could not be long in coming, thought they.

Sure enough he came, and soon, too.

They had not been twenty minutes on their perch, when they heard a strange, rumbling noise, which they knew proceeded from the stomach of an elephant. The next moment they saw one emerge from the jungle, and walk, with sweeping step, straight up to the tree. He seemed to have no suspicion of any danger; but placed himself at once alongside the trunk of the acacia--in the very position and on the side Swartboy had said he would take. From his spoor the Bushman knew he had been in the habit of so standing.

His head was turned from the hunters, but not so much as to prevent them from seeing a pair of splendid tusks,--six feet long at the least.

While gazing in admiration at these rich trophies, they saw the animal point his proboscis upward, and discharge a vast shower of water into the leaves, which afterwards fell dripping in bright globules over his body!