Chapter 28 - A Narrative of Hunting Adventures in Southern Africa by Mayne Reid
Hendrik’s Hard Gallop
On swept the blesboks over the level sward and on galloped Hendrik after them—his horse and dogs running at their utmost speed. For all that, not a yard could either hunter or hounds gain upon the swift antelopes. There was no chance for either to “run cunning.” There was no taking “a cut” upon the game. The blesboks made not the slightest double—swerved not a point from their course, but ran in a straight line, dead in the wind’s eye. No advantage, therefore, was given by the pursued, or could be taken by the pursuers. It was a simple question of speed between horse, dogs, and game.
The dogs gave up first. They broke down one after another, until only Hendrik’s favourite hound kept near. Another mile’s running, and he too was used up, and fell to the rear; and now Hendrik galloped alone.
For nearly ten miles he galloped, until the sweat streamed from his horse’s flanks, and the froth from his lips, and still the blesboks scoured on before him at too great a distance to be reached by his rifle. On a fresh horse he could easily have overtaken them now, for they ran but slowly. Perhaps he could have closed upon them as it was, but, with all his desire to do so, he was compelled to ride with caution. The burrows of the ant-eater lay in his path, and once or twice, as he was closing upon the game with good prospect of getting near, his horse had stumbled, and lost ground again. This gave the antelopes a decided advantage, as with light hoof they skimmed over these impediments without fear.
And still Hendrik was reluctant to pull up. He thought of the empty boasting he had made. He thought of the scornful laugh that would greet him on his return. He thought of Groot Willem!
If he could only take back one hide—one pair of horns—all would be well. The laugh would be his. With such thoughts he had been urged forward, in this long and desperate ride.
He began to despair of success. The blesboks seemed to run lightly as ever, while his horse sprang heavily under him. The noble brute must soon give up.
Hendrik at length felt for him, and would have drawn bridle; but while half-resolved to do so, he noticed a range of mountains directly in front of him. They appeared to extend across the plain transversely to his course, or rather two chains met in a sort of angle, quite closing up the plain in that direction. Towards this angle the blesboks were directing their course!
Did they propose taking to the mountain? was the question put by Hendrik to himself. If so, he might find an advantage there. They might come to a stop, and under cover of the rocks and bushes that grew upon the mountain-side, he might be able yet to stalk them.
As Hendrik reflected thus, his eyes wandered along the base of both ranges from the angle where they met to a good distance on each side. To his surprise he perceived that the bases of both ended in a precipitous cliff, with no apparent pass leading up! He was now close enough to see the cliff. Not a break appeared along its whole line!
Hendrik was gratified with this discovery. He was driving the game into an angle, a very trap. They would be compelled to turn upon him, and out of such a thick mass, he could not fail to knock over one. One was all he wanted.
His hopes returned, inspiring him with new vigour; and, uttering a word of encouragement to his horse, he pushed forward.
His ride did not last much longer. Another mile, and it was over.
He had got within five hundred yards of the mountain foot, and less than half that distance from the bucks that still continued to run straight toward the angle of the cliffs. He was now quite sure of a shot. In less than a minute, the herd would be compelled either to stop, or turn back, and meet him in the teeth.
It was time to get his rifle in readiness; and as he intended to fire into the thick mass, he took several small bullets from his pouch, and hastily dropped them into the barrel. He then looked to his percussion-cap, to make sure that all was right. It was so. The copper was properly adjusted on the nipple.
He cocked his gun, and once more looked forward to the game. Not an antelope was in sight!
Where were they? Had they sprung up the mountain? Impossible! The precipice could not be scaled? Impossible! Even had they done so, they would still have been seen upon the mountain face. They were not in sight, not one of them! The hunter reined up, his gun dropped back to the withers of his horse, his jaws fell, and for some moments he sat with parted lips, and eyes glaring in wonderment.
Had he been of a superstitious nature, he might have been troubled with some painful feelings at that moment. But he was not superstitious. Although for a moment or two he could not feel otherwise than astonished at it, he knew there was some natural cause for the “sudden and mysterious disappearance” of the bucks.
He did not pause long in doubt, but proceeded at once to the proper quarter for an explanation. The tracks of the herd guided him to that, and after riding three hundred yards further, the mystery was explained to his full and complete satisfaction.
The angle, after all, was not an angle, for the apex was wanting. There was a “thoroughfare” without the slightest obstruction. Although at a short distance the converging cliffs appeared to impinge upon each other, there was an opening between them—a narrow pass that like an isthmus connected the plain over which the chase had gone, with another and very similar one that stretched away on the other side of the mountains. The blesboks must have known it well enough, else they would not have run so direct for the false angle in the cliffs. Hendrik trotted up the pass to convince himself that it was no cul-de-sac. After going a few hundred yards, the isthmus widened again, and he saw to his chagrin the violet backs of the bucks far off upon the plain that stretched beyond.
Overcome with disappointment and chagrin, he flung himself from his saddle, and staggering a few paces, sat down upon a boulder of rock. He did not even stop to fasten his horse, but, dropping the bridle over his neck, left the froth-covered and panting steed to himself.