But inside of twenty yards, whether the rhinoceros
meant to charge me, or was merely running blindly by, did not
particularly matter. Even in the latter case he might happen to
catch sight of me and change his mind. Thus, looking over my
notebook records, I find that I was "charged" forty odd
times-that is to say, the rhinoceros rushed in my general
direction. Of this lot I can be sure of but three, and possibly
four, that certainly meant mischief. Six more came so directly at
us, and continued so to come, that in spite of ourselves we were
compelled to kill them. The rest were successfully dodged.
As I have heard old hunters of many times my experience, affirm
that only in a few instances have they themselves been charged
indubitably and with malice aforethought, it might be well to
detail my reasons for believing myself definitely and not blindly
attacked.
The first instance was that when B. killed his second trophy
rhinoceros. The beast's companion refused to leave the dead body
for a long time, but finally withdrew. On our approaching,
however, and after we had been some moments occupied with the
trophy, it returned and charged viciously. It was finally killed
at fifteen yards.
The second instance was of a rhinoceros that got up from the
grass sixty yards away, and came headlong in my direction. At the
moment I was standing on the edge of a narrow eroded ravine, ten
feet deep, with perpendicular sides. The rhinoceros came on
bravely to the edge of this ravine-and stopped. Then he gave an
exhibition of unmitigated bad temper most amusing to
contemplate-from my safe position. He snorted, and stamped, and
pawed the earth, and tramped up and down at a great rate. I sat on
the opposite bank and laughed at him. This did not please him a
bit, but after many short rushes to the edge of the ravine, he
gave it up and departed slowly, his tail very erect and rigid.
>From the persistency with which he tried to get at me, I cannot
but think he intended something of the sort from the first.
The third instance was much more aggravating. In company with
Memba Sasa and Fundi I left camp early one morning to get a
waterbuck. Four or five hundred yards out, however, we came on
fresh buffalo signs, not an hour old. To one who knew anything of
buffaloes' habits this seemed like an excellent chance, for at
this time of the morning they should be feeding not far away
preparatory to seeking cover for the day. Therefore we
immediately took up the trail.
It led us over hills, through valleys, high grass, burned
country, brush, thin scrub, and small woodland alternately.
Unfortunately we had happened on these buffalo just as they were
about changing district, and they were therefore travelling
steadily. At times the trail was easy to follow and at other
times we had to cast about very diligently to find traces of the
direction even such huge animals had taken. It was interesting
work, however, and we drew on steadily, keeping a sharp lookout
ahead in case the buffalo had come to a halt in some shady
thicket out of the sun. As the latter ascended the heavens and
the scorching heat increased, our confidence in nearing our
quarry ascended likewise, for we knew that buffaloes do not like
great heat. Nevertheless this band continued straight on its way.
I think now they must have got scent of our camp, and had
therefore decided to move to one of the alternate and widely
separated feeding grounds every herd keeps in its habitat. Only
at noon, and after six hours of steady trailing, covering perhaps
a dozen miles, did we catch them up.
>From the start we had been bothered with rhinoceroses. Five times
did we encounter them, standing almost squarely on the line of
the spoor we were following. Then we had to make a wide quiet
circle to leeward in order to avoid disturbing them, and were
forced to a very minute search in order to pick up the buffalo
tracks again on the other side. This was at once an anxiety and a
delay, and we did not love those rhino.
Finally, at the very edge of the Yatta Plains we overtook the
herd, resting for noon in a scattered thicket. Leaving Fundi, I,
with Memba Sasa, stalked down to them. We crawled and crept by
inches flat to the ground, which was so hot that it fairly burned
the hand. The sun beat down on us fiercely, and the air was close
and heavy even among the scanty grass tufts in which we were
trying to get cover. It was very hard work indeed, but after a
half hour of it we gained a thin bush not over thirty yards from
a half dozen dark and indeterminate bodies dozing in the very
centre of a brush patch. Cautiously I wiped the sweat from my
eyes and raised my glasses. It was slow work and patient work,
picking out and examining each individual beast from the mass.
Finally the job was done. I let fall my glasses.
"Monumookee y'otey-all cows," I whispered to Memba Sasa.
We backed out of there inch by inch, with intention of circling a
short distance to the leeward, and then trying the herd again
lower down. But some awkward slight movement, probably on my
part, caught the eye of one of those blessed cows. She threw up
her head; instantly the whole thicket seemed alive with beasts.
We could hear them crashing and stamping, breaking the brush,
rushing headlong and stopping again; we could even catch
momentary glimpses of dark bodies.
