The Land of Footprints

S >> Stewart Edward White >> The Land of Footprints

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"Bwana," said he respectfully, "is it enough that I shut Simba in
the tin box, or do you wish to flog him?"

On one very disgraceful occasion, when everything went wrong, we
plucked Little Simba from his high throne and with him made a
beautiful drop-kick out into the tall grass. There, in a loud
tone of voice, we sternly bade him lie until the morrow. The camp
was bung-eyed. It is not given to every people to treat its gods
in such fashion: indeed, in very deed, great is the white man! To
be fair, having published Little Simba's disgrace, we should
publish also Little Simba's triumph: to tell how, at the end of a
certain very lucky three months' safari he was perched atop a
pole and carried into town triumphantly at the head of a howling,
singing procession of a hundred men. He returned to America, and
now, having retired from active professional life, is leading an
honoured old age among the trophies he helped to procure.

Funny Face first met Little Simba when on an early investigating
tour. With considerable difficulty he had shinnied up the table
leg, and had hoisted himself over the awkwardly projecting table
edge. When almost within reach of the fascinating affairs
displayed atop, he looked straight up into the face of Little
Simba! Funny Face shrieked aloud, let go all holds and fell off
flat on his back. Recovering immediately, he climbed just as high
as he could, and proceeded, during the next hour, to relieve his
feelings by the most insulting chatterings and grimaces. He never
recovered from this initial experience. All that was necessary to
evoke all sorts of monkey talk was to produce Little Simba.
Against his benign plush front then broke a storm of
remonstrance. He became the object of slow advances and sudden
scurrying, shrieking retreats, that lasted just as long as he
stayed there, and never got any farther than a certain quite
conservative point. Little Simba did not mind. He was too busy
being a god.

XXIV. BUFFALO

The Cape Buffalo is one of the four dangerous kinds of African
big game; of which the other three are the lion, the rhinoceros,
and the elephant. These latter are familiar to us in zoological
gardens, although the African and larger form of the rhinoceros
and elephant are seldom or never seen in captivity. But buffaloes
are as yet unrepresented in our living collections. They are huge
beasts, tremendous from any point of view, whether considered in
height, in mass, or in power. At the shoulder they stand from
just under five feet to just under six feet in height; they are
short legged, heavy bodied bull necked, thick in every dimension.
In colour they are black as to hair, and slate gray as to skin;
so that the individual impression depends on the thickness of the
coat. They wear their horns parted in the middle, sweeping
smoothly away in the curves of two great bosses either side the
head. A good trophy will measure in spread from forty inches to
four feet. Four men will be required to carry in the head alone.
As buffaloes when disturbed or suspicious have a habit of
thrusting their noses up and forward, that position will cling to
one's memory as the most typical of the species.

A great many hunters rank the buffalo first among the dangerous
beasts. This is not my own opinion, but he is certainly dangerous
enough. He possesses the size, power, and truculence of the
rhinoceros, together with all that animal's keenness of scent and
hearing but with a sharpness of vision the rhinoceros has not.
While not as clever as either the lion or the elephant, he is
tricky enough when angered to circle back for the purpose of
attacking his pursuers in the rear or flank, and to arrange
rather ingenious ambushes for the same purpose. He is rather more
tenacious of life than the rhinoceros, and will carry away an
extraordinary quantity of big bullets. Add to these
considerations the facts that buffaloes go in herds; and that,
barring luck, chances are about even they will have to be
followed into the thickest cover, it can readily be seen that
their pursuit is exciting.

The problem would be simplified were one able or willing to slip
into the thicket or up to the grazing herd and kill the nearest
beast that offers. As a matter of fact an ordinary herd will
contain only two or three bulls worth shooting; and it is the
hunter's delicate task to glide and crawl here and there, with
due regard for sight, scent and sound, until he has picked one of
these from the scores of undesirables. Many times will he worm
his way by inches toward the great black bodies half defined in
the screen of thick undergrowth only to find that he has stalked
cows or small bulls. Then inch by inch he must back out again,
unable to see twenty yards to either side, guiding himself by the
probabilities of the faint chance breezes in the thicket. To
right and left he hears the quiet continued crop, crop, crop,
sound of animals grazing. The sweat runs down his face in
streams, and blinds his eyes, but only occasionally and with the
utmost caution can he raise his hand-or, better, lower his
head-to clear his vision. When at last he has withdrawn from the
danger zone, he wipes his face, takes a drink from the canteen,
and tries again. Sooner or later his presence comes to the notice
of some old cow. Behind the leafy screen where unsuspected she
has been standing comes the most unexpected and heart-jumping
crash! Instantly the jungle all about roars into life. The great
bodies of the alarmed beasts hurl themselves through the thicket,
smash! bang! crash! smash! as though a tornado were uprooting the
forest. Then abruptly a complete silence! This lasts but ten
seconds or so; then off rushes the wild stampede in another
direction; only again to come to a listening halt of breathless
stillness. So the hunter, unable to see anything, and feeling
very small, huddles with his gunbearers in a compact group,
listening to the wild surging short rushes, now this way, now
that, hoping that the stampede may not run over him. If by chance
it does, he has his two shots and the possibility of hugging a
tree while the rush divides around him. The latter is the most
likely; a single buffalo is hard enough to stop with two shots,
let alone a herd. And yet, sometimes, the mere flash and noise
will suffice to turn them, provided they are not actually trying
to attack, but only rushing indefinitely about. Probably a man
can experience few more thrilling moments than he will enjoy
standing in one of the small leafy rooms of an African jungle
while several hundred tons of buffalo crash back and forth all
around him.

In the best of circumstances it is only rarely that having
identified his big bull, the hunter can deliver a knockdown blow.
The beast is extraordinarily vital, and in addition it is
exceedingly difficult to get a fair, open shot. Then from the
danger of being trampled down by the blind and senseless stampede
of the herd he passes to the more defined peril from an angered
and cunning single animal. The majority of fatalities in hunting
buffaloes happen while following wounded beasts. A flank charge
at close range may catch the most experienced man; and even when
clearly seen, it is difficult to stop. The buffalo's wide bosses
are a helmet to his brain, and the body shot is always chancy.
The beast tosses his victim, or tramples him, or pushes him
against a tree to crush him like a fly.

He who would get his trophy, however, is not always-perhaps is
not generally-forced into the thicket to get it. When not much
disturbed, buffaloes are in the habit of grazing out into the
open just before dark; and of returning to their thicket cover
only well after sunrise. If the hunter can arrange to meet his
herd at such a time, he stands a very good chance of getting a
clear shot. The job then requires merely ordinary caution and
manoeuvring; and the only danger, outside the ever-present one
from the wounded beast, is that the herd may charge over him
deliberately. Therefore it is well to keep out of sight.

The difficulty generally is to locate your beasts. They wander
all night, and must be blundered upon in the early morning before
they have drifted back into the thickets. Sometimes, by sending
skilled trackers in several directions, they can be traced to
where they have entered cover. A messenger then brings the white
man to the place, and every one tries to guess at what spot the
buffaloes are likely to emerge for their evening stroll. It is
remarkably easy to make a wrong guess, and the remaining daylight
is rarely sufficient to repair a mistake. And also, in the case
of a herd ranging a wide country with much tall grass and several
drinking holes, it is rather difficult, without very good luck,
to locate them on any given night or morning. A few herds, a very
few, may have fixed habits, and so prove easy hunting.

These difficulties, while in no way formidable, are real enough
in their small way; but they are immensely increased when the
herds have been often disturbed. Disturbance need not necessarily
mean shooting. In countries unvisited by white men often the
pastoral natives will so annoy the buffalo by shoutings and other
means, whenever they appear near the tame cattle, that the huge
beasts will come practically nocturnal. In that case only the
rankest luck will avail to get a man a chance in the open. The
herds cling to cover until after sundown and just at dusk; and
they return again very soon after the first streaks of dawn. If
the hunter just happens to be at the exact spot, he may get a
twilight shot when the glimmering ivory of his front sight is
barely visible. Otherwise he must go into the thicket.

As an illustration of the first condition might be instanced an
afternoon on the Tana. The weather was very hot. We had sent
three lots of men out in different directions, each under the
leadership of one of the gunbearers, to scout, while we took it
easy in the shade of our banda, or grass shelter, on the bank of
the river. About one o'clock a messenger came into camp reporting
that the men under Mavrouki had traced a herd to its lying-down
place. We took our heavy guns and started.

The way led through thin scrub up the long slope of a hill that
broke on the other side into undulating grass ridges that ended
in a range of hills. These were about four or five miles distant,
and thinly wooded on sides and lower slopes with what resembled a
small live-oak growth. Among these trees, our guide told us, the
buffalo had first been sighted.

The sun was very hot, and all the animals were still. We saw
impalla in the scrub, and many giraffes and bucks on the plains.
After an hour and a half's walk we entered the parklike groves at
the foot of the hills, and our guide began to proceed more
cautiously. He moved forward a few feet, peered about, retraced
his steps. Suddenly his face broke into a broad grin. Following
his indication we looked up, and there in a tree almost above us
roosted one of our boys sound asleep! We whistled at him.
Thereupon he awoke, tried to look very alert, and pointed in the
direction we should go. After an interval we picked up another
sentinel, and another, and another until, passed on thus from one
to the next, we traced the movements of the herd. Finally we came
upon Mavrouki and Simba under a bush. From them, in whispers, we
learned that the buffalo were karibu sana-very near; that they
had fed this far, and were now lying in the long grass just
ahead. Leaving the men, we now continued our forward movement on
hands and knees, in single file. It was very hot work, for the
sun beat square down on us, and the tall grass kept off every
breath of air. Every few moments we rested, lying on our faces.
Occasionally, when the grass shortened, or the slant of ground
tended to expose us, we lay quite flat and hitched forward an
inch at a time by the strength of our toes. This was very severe
work indeed, and we were drenched in perspiration. In fact, as I
had been feeling quite ill all day, it became rather doubtful
whether I could stand the pace.

However after a while we managed to drop down into an eroded deep
little ravine. Here the air was like that of a furnace, but at
least we could walk upright for a few rods. This we did, with the
most extraordinary precautions against even the breaking of a
twig or the rolling of a pebble. Then we clambered to the top of
the bank, wormed our way forward another fifty feet to the
shelter of a tiny bush, and stretched out to recuperate. We lay
there some time, sheltered from the sun. Then ahead of us
suddenly rumbled a deep bellow. We were fairly upon the herd!

Cautiously F., who was nearest the centre of the bush, raised
himself alongside the stem to look. He could see where the beasts
were lying, not fifty yards away, but he could make out nothing
but the fact of great black bodies taking their ease in the grass
under the shade of trees. So much he reported to us; then rose
again to keep watch.

Thus we waited the rest of the afternoon. The sun dipped at last
toward the west, a faint irregular breeze wandered down from the
hills, certain birds awoke and uttered their clear calls, an
unsuspected kongoni stepped from the shade of a tree over the way
and began to crop the grass, the shadows were lengthening through
the trees. Then ahead of us an uneasiness ran through the herd.
We in the grass could hear the mutterings and grumblings of many
great animals. Suddenly F. snapped his fingers, stooped low and
darted forward. We scrambled to our feet and followed.

Across a short open space we ran, bent double to the shelter of a
big ant hill. Peering over the top of this we found ourselves
within sixty yards of a long compact column of the great black
beasts, moving forward orderly to the left, the points of the
cow's horns, curved up and in, tossing slowly as the animals
walked. On the flank of the herd was a big gray bull.

It had been agreed that B. was to have the shot. Therefore he
opened fire with his 405 Winchester, a weapon altogether too
light for this sort of work. At the shot the herd dashed forward
to an open grass meadow a few rods away, wheeled and faced back
in a compact mass, their noses thrust up and out in their typical
fashion, trying with all their senses to locate the cause of the
disturbance.

Taking advantage both of the scattered cover, and the half light
of the shadows we slipped forward as rapidly and as unobtrusively
as we could to the edge of the grass meadow. Here we came to a
stand eighty yards from the buffaloes. They stood compactly like
a herd of cattle, staring, tossing their heads, moving slightly,
their wild eyes searching for us. I saw several good bulls, but
always they moved where it was impossible to shoot without danger
of getting the wrong beast. Finally my chance came; I planted a
pair of Holland bullets in the shoulder of one of them.

The herd broke away to the right, sweeping past us at close
range. My bull ran thirty yards with them, then went down stone
dead. When we examined him we found the hole made by B.'s
Winchester bullet; so that quite unintentionally and by accident
I had fired at the same beast. This was lucky. The trophy, by
hunter's law, of course, belonged to B.

Therefore F. and I alone followed on after the herd. It was now
coming on dusk. Within a hundred yards we began to see scattered
beasts. The formation of the herd had broken. Some had gone on in
flight, while others in small scattered groups would stop to
stare back, and would then move slowly on for a few paces before
stopping again. Among these I made out a bull facing us about a
hundred and twenty-five yards away, and managed to stagger him,
but could not bring him down.

Now occurred an incident which I should hesitate to relate were
it not that both F. and myself saw it. We have since talked it
over, compared our recollections, and found them to coincide in
every particular.

As we moved cautiously in pursuit of the slowly retreating herd
three cows broke back and came running down past us. We ducked
aside and hid, of course, but noticed that of the three two were
very young, while one was so old that she had become fairly
emaciated, a very unusual thing with buffaloes. We then followed
the herd for twenty minutes, or until twilight, when we turned
back. About halfway down the slope we again met the three cows,
returning. They passed us within twenty yards, but paid us no
attention whatever. The old cow was coming along very
reluctantly, hanging back at every step, and every once in a
while swinging her head viciously at one or the other of her two
companions. These escorted her on either side, and a little to
the rear. They were plainly urging her forward, and did not
hesitate to dig her in the ribs with their horns whenever she
turned especially obstinate. In fact they acted exactly like a
pair of cowboys HERDING a recalcitrant animal back to its band
and I have no doubt at all that when they first by us the old
lady was making a break for liberty in the wrong direction, AND
THAT THE TWO YOUNGER COWS WERE TRYING TO ROUND
HER BACK! Whether they were her daughters or not is problematical;
but it certainly seemed that they were taking care of her and trying
to prevent her running back where it was dangerous to go. I never
heard of a similar case. though Herbert Ward* mentions, without
particulars that elephants AND BUFFALOES will assist each other
WHEN WOUNDED.

*A Voice from the COngo.

After passing these we returned to where B. and the men, who had
now come up, had prepared the dead bull for transportation. We
started at once, travelling by the stars, shouting and singing to
discourage the lions, but did not reach camp until well into the
night.

XXV. THE BUFFALO-continued

Some months later, and many hundreds of miles farther south,
Billy and I found ourselves alone with twenty men, and two weeks
to pass until C.-our companion at the time-should return from a
long journey out with a wounded man. By slow stages, and relaying
back and forth, we landed in a valley so beautiful in every way
that we resolved to stay as long as possible. This could be but
five days at most. At the end of that time we must start for our
prearranged rendezvous with C.

The valley was in the shape of an ellipse, the sides of which
were formed by great clifflike mountains, and the other two by
hills lower, but still of considerable boldness and size. The
longest radius was perhaps six or eight miles, and the shortest
three or four. At one end a canyon dropped away to a lower level,
and at the other a pass in the hills gave over to the country of
the Narassara River. The name of the valley was Lengeetoto.

>From the great mountains flowed many brooks of clear sparkling
water, that ran beneath the most beautiful of open jungles, to
unite finally in one main stream that disappeared down the canyon.
Between these brooks were low broad rolling hills, sometimes
grass covered, sometimes grown thinly with bushes. Where they
headed in the mountains, long stringers of forest trees ran up to
blocklike groves, apparently pasted like wafers against the base
of the cliffs, but in reality occupying spacious slopes below
them.

We decided to camp at the foot of a long grass slant within a
hundred yards of the trees along one of the small streams. Before
us we had the sweep of brown grass rising to a clear cut skyline;
and all about us the distant great hills behind which the day
dawned and fell. One afternoon a herd of giraffes stood
silhouetted on this skyline quite a half hour gazing curiously
down on our camp. Hartebeeste and zebra swarmed in the grassy
openings; and impalla in the brush. We saw sing-sing and
steinbuck, and other animals, and heard lions nearly every night.
But principally we elected to stay because a herd of buffaloes
ranged the foothills and dwelt in the groves of forest trees
under the cliffs. We wanted a buffalo; and as Lengeetoto is
practically unknown to white men, we thought this a good chance
to get one. In that I reckoned without the fact that at certain
seasons the Masai bring their cattle in, and at such times annoy
the buffalo all they can.

We started out well enough. I sent Memba Sasa with two men to
locate the herd. About three o'clock a messenger came to camp
after me. We plunged through our own jungle, crossed a low swell,
traversed another jungle, and got in touch with the other two
men. They reported the buffalo had entered the thicket a few
hundred yards below us. Cautiously reconnoitering the ground it
soon became evident that we would be forced more definitely to
locate the herd. To be sure, they had entered the stream jungle
at a known point, but there could be no telling how far they
might continue in the thicket, nor on what side of it they would
emerge at sundown. Therefore we commenced cautiously and slowly
follow the trail.

The going was very thick, naturally, and we could not see very
far ahead. Our object was not now to try for a bull, but merely
to find where the herd was feeding, in order that we might wait
for it to come out. However, we were brought to a stand, in the
middle of a jungle of green leaves, by the cropping sound of a
beast grazing just the other side of a bush. We could not see it,
and we stood stock still in the hope of escaping discovery
ourselves. But an instant later a sudden crash of wood told us we
had been seen. It was near work. The gunbearers crouched close to
me. I held the heavy double gun ready. If the beast had elected
to charge I would have had less than ten yards within which to
stop it. Fortunately it did not do so. But instantly the herd was
afoot and off at full speed. A locomotive amuck in a kindling
pile could have made no more appalling a succession of rending
crashes than did those heavy animals rushing here and there
through the thick woody growth. We could see nothing. Twice the
rush started in our direction, but stopped as suddenly as it had
begun, to be succeeded by absolute stillness when everything,
ourselves included, held its breath to listen. Finally, the first
panic over, the herd started definitely away downstream. We ran
as fast as we could out of the jungle to a commanding position on
the hill. Thence we could determine the course of the herd. It
continued on downstream as far as we could follow the sounds in
the convolutions of the hills. Realizing that it would improbably
recover enough from its alarmed condition to resume its regular
habits that day, we returned to camp.

Next morning Memba Sasa and I were afield before daylight. We
took no other men. In hunting I am a strong disbeliever in the
common habit of trailing along a small army. It is simple enough,
in case the kill is made, to send back for help. No matter how
skilful your men are at stalking, the chances of alarming the
game are greatly increased by numbers; while the possibilities of
misunderstanding the plan of campaign, and so getting into the
wrong place at the wrong time, are infinite. Alone, or with one
gunbearer, a man can slip in and out a herd of formidable animals
with the least chances of danger. Merely going out after camp
meat is of course a different matter.

We did not follow in the direction taken by the herd the night
before, but struck off toward the opposite side of the valley.
For two hours we searched the wooded country at the base of the
cliff mountains, working slowly around the circle, examining
every inlet, ravine and gully. Plenty of other sorts of game we
saw, including elephant tracks not a half hour old; but no
buffalo. About eight o'clock, however, while looking through my
glasses, I caught sight of some tiny chunky black dots crawling
along below the mountains diagonally across the valley, and
somewhat over three miles away. We started in that direction as
fast as we could walk. At the end of an hour we surmounted the
last swell, and stood at the edge of a steep drop. Immediately
below us flowed a good-sized stream through a high jungle over
the tops of which we looked to a triangular gentle slope
overgrown with scattered bushes and high grass. Beyond this again
ran another jungle, angling up hill from the first, to end in a
forest of trees about thirty or forty acres in extent. This
jungle and these trees were backed up against the slope of the
mountain. The buffaloes we had first seen above the grove: they
must now have sought cover among either the trees or the lower
jungle, and it seemed reasonable that the beasts would emerge on
the grass and bush area late in the afternoon. Therefore Memba
Sasa and I selected good comfortable sheltered spots, leaned our
backs against rocks, and resigned ourselves to long patience. It
was now about nine o'clock in the morning, and we could not
expect our game to come out before half past three at earliest.
We could not, however, go away to come back later because of the
chance that the buffaloes might take it into their heads to go
travelling. I had been fooled that way before. For this reason,
also, it was necessary, every five minutes or so, to examine
carefully all our boundaries; lest the beasts might be slipping
away through the cover.

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