A very simple form of harpoon is used for spearing turtle by some Australians we fell in with near the Goulburu Islands. They had evidently been alongside European ships, and it was probably from this source that they had acquired the essential part of their harpoon—an iron spike about 6in. long, and pointed at both ends. To this was fastened a small line, which was also stopped to the staff—a light pole about 8ft. long—the remainder of the line being held loosely coiled in the hand. Sometimes the Australians use their paddle as a spear by having the blade end sharpened, barbed, and hardened.

CHAPTER XVI.
POISONED WEAPONS, ARROWS, SPEARS, &c.

The arrows of the South African Bushmen are worthy of notice, not only for the ingenuity displayed in making formidable weapons from such apparently insignificant materials, but for the deadly poison with which in many cases they are imbued. A crooked stick, a few reeds, bits of bone, and the dorsal sinews of any antelope, are all the materials required in the formation of the weapons. The poisoning is sometimes a more elaborate affair. Among the southern tribes, some of whom still maintain an existence as hunters and occasional marauders on the borders of the colony, the juices of the bulbs of various species of amaryllis and hæmanthus, mixed sometimes with serpent poison, and aided by the adhesive acrid juice of the euphorbium, are boiled down in the hollow of a stone to the tough viscous consistency of birdlime, and sparingly smeared upon the arrow heads. Farther to the north the process is much more simple. The Bushmen of the Kalihari Desert, and the regions in the vicinity of Lake Ngami, use the entrails of a grub called ’kaa or ngwa, an almost inarticulate sound, which it is impossible to write so as to enable the English reader to pronounce it with anything like correctness. Both forms of spelling are attempts to indicate a click of the tongue against the teeth, followed by a slight nasal ringing, and ending in the broad sound of the vowel “a.” The grub is of a creamy white, and is soft, with the exception of its head; and when full-sized seldom much exceeds three-quarters of an inch in length. It lives chiefly, perhaps almost exclusively, upon the leaf of a tree called “Maruru papeerie,” which varies from the size of a small low-growing shrub to that of a moderately-sized tree, upwards of 20ft. high, or 12in. or 14in. in thickness. It is covered with thorns, and its wood in the vicinity of Lake Ngami was soft and of a very even texture; but toward the Zambesi it seemed harder. When we first saw it it was feeding on these leaves, and we were rather puzzled by a loose ragged mantle or envelope of green matter, which seemed to be peeling off like a skin in process of being cast. It lay in loose rolls, mostly parallel to the muscular rings upon the body, and was gradually forced forward, so as to form a hood or shield above the head, where it dried and broke off as it accumulated, and was replaced by fresh matter. Our highest magnifying power was the microscope of a sextant; but this at length enabled us to decide that the green matter was merely excrement issuing not only in the usual manner, but also from pores ranged along the whole length of the body. As the grub attains its full size, this matter issues more sparingly, and is of a browner colour. The grub drops to the ground, buries itself to the depth of a couple of feet, and forms its cocoon of a thin shell of earth, cemented by glutinous juices around its body. This is quite hard enough to bear handling, even rather roughly, so long as it retains its perfect form, and we brought several specimens to England; but if it is once broken, the slightest touch is enough to complete its destruction.

In applying this poison to their arrows, the Bushmen collect a number of the cocoons, which they lay near them on a skin, a leaf, or on a sandal; they break one of these, and, taking out the grub, hold it between the thumb and forefinger, and squeeze the entrails, or rather the internal juices, in small drops upon the arrow head, which is then carefully laid upon any extemporised rest to dry in the sun, much as an artist lays his brushes on something that will keep the hair from contact with anything capable of giving or receiving damage from the colour with which they are charged. They take the greatest possible care not to let these juices come in contact with any cut or sore, or abrasion of the skin, for they would in such case produce the same excruciating agony that is inflicted upon a wounded animal; and it is said that a man with a wound, however slight, so infected, would become a maniac, and would probably destroy himself in the extremity of his pain. It is, however, believed that fat rubbed plentifully on the wound, and taken internally in sufficient quantities, would prove an antidote; but this is a medicine by no means likely to be always at hand among persons living a nomadic life, and but occasionally supplied with animal food like the Bushman. Fortunately for them they possess another remedy, growing plentifully and naturally in most parts of their country. We were aware that they knew of this; and a friend, who had been personally acquainted with the chief for a considerable time, had long attempted to induce him to reveal its name, but he was unwilling to do so, till in a conversation with another member of his tribe he mentioned its name; and our friend, who perfectly understood the Sechuana and some of the other native languages, asked him at the next opportunity if the remedy in question were not the “Kàla haétlwe,” and thus surprised him into the confession that white men knew everything, and that further attempts at concealment were useless. The word kala signifies friend, but we are not aware of the meaning of the concluding syllables. The “Kàla haétlwe” is a small, soft-stemmed plant; the flower is yellow, star-shaped, and has five petals; the stamens are numerous, and the calyx is divided into two sepals. The root is something between a bulb and a tuber—rough and brown outside—and, when cut, is seen marked with concentric lines of light reddish brown and purple. The leaves are 2½in. in length, and ¼in. wide. The mid-rib of the leaf projects on the under surface, and forms a depression on the upper. There are, however, two other plants which bear the same name, and are used for the same purpose. One of them has a broader leaf and larger flower, and tastes like sorrel; and the third has a waved or wrinkled leaf. The root or bulb is chewed and laid on the wound, and is followed by plentiful application of fat.

The natives use an arrow with a bone head dotted over with the ngwa or ’kaa poison, and loosely inserted into the shaft. This is a slender reed, seldom more than ⅜in. thick. It is bound with sinew at the end to keep the head from splitting it, and is also bound for the same purpose near the notch. In fastening this sinew no knots or hitches are used, but the end is frayed out very fine, chewed soft, and, while still soft, is firmly pressed down upon the rest, where its glutinous properties cause it firmly to adhere.

The Bushman makes use of a simple and effectual method of sheathing his arrows, so as to render any accidents impossible. When not intended for use the point is reversed and enters the socket in the shaft.

They make use of a very ingenious expedient for tightening the bowstring. A small knob of hardened sinew is firmly lashed to one end of the bow, the string made of the dorsal sinews of the springbok or other antelope, slightly twisted, has a loop at one end, which is hitched on to the end of the bow; the other is brought up and passed between the knob and the wood, several turns are taken loosely round the latter. When required for use the bow is bent by holding it with the hand and knee, with the action represented in the beautiful statue of Cupid, and then with the other hand turning the coil of sinew around the end of the bow until the string is sufficiently tightened.

They also adopt a very simple plan of preserving an ostrich feather. The Bushman, it may be after weeks or months of patient stalking, kills an ostrich. He knows the feathers are valuable, and that from a white trader he may obtain for them tobacco, clasp knives, tinder boxes, or other articles of value to himself, but he also knows that he must keep them clean and unbroken. He therefore inserts the quill first into a reed, and taps it on the ground till the whole feather has vanished, and he can carry it about in his quiver; and, to say truth, it is at first sight a little astonishing to a European when a Bushman offers for inspection a slender reed, to see him draw from it a gracefully waving ostrich plume of the finest quality and largest size.

The simple apparatus by which the Bushmen obtain fire is shown at page 536. It consists of two sticks of moderately close-grained but not very hard wood. One of these, which may be called the fire stick, is somewhat thicker than the little finger, and may be of any length, generally about 1ft. or 18in., and in this small notches are cut with the point of an assegai, at about 1in. apart, for the reception of the end of the other, or the whirling stick. This is about the size and length of the ramrod of a common fowling piece, and both are carried in the quiver, with their arrows, sucking reeds, and rushes, for the manufacture of bracelets, &c.

The preparation of the wourari poison is usually conducted by natives, from whom it is best obtained. This substance may be at times of service to the explorer. The sumpitans of the Dyaks and Borneans should also be noticed. Mr. Bates says that salt is put on the tongue of the coati as a restorative from the stupor induced by the wourari poison. We have often heard of poisoned bullets, and once saw an experiment tried. A hole was bored in a revolver bullet and filled with the juices of the ’kaa or ngwa—the Bushman’s poison grub; this was fired into the rump of an ox; the animal showed little or no sign of acute pain, but seemed to be dull and stupefied for some hours. At length it seemed as if it were likely to recover, and, partly because the flesh was really wanted for food, and partly to end an experiment which seemed likely to lead to no useful result, the poor creature was shot dead. Probably the fire might have neutralised or destroyed the active principle of the poison.

We have heard of some native tribes who prepare arrow poison by first making a hollow nest in the liver of a dead animal. They then fill this with living centipedes, scorpions, tarantulas, and other poisonous creatures. These they irritate by striking the liver with a stick, when the virus of the united assemblage of venom bearers is poured out and at once absorbed by the liver, which is rubbed over the weapon to be treated. The Chinese plunge their arrows in a putrid carcase in order to poison them. The Malays keep their poison preparations strictly secret. Poisoned weapons retain their destructive qualities for years, and should therefore be handled with extreme caution.

A square of paper, folded diagonally across, may be used as a “feather” for a blowpipe arrow. Wild cotton is also used to make the arrow fit the tube.

A cross-bow of peculiar construction is used by the Chinese; the action of the trigger is sufficiently simple to need no explanation, and the chief peculiarity consists in the fact of its having a kind of reservoir above the barrel, in which half a dozen or more arrows or bolts lie one upon the other; this is connected with the barrel only at the foremost end, the string passing beneath it, and the lowermost arrow resting on the string until the bow is bent; then the string being pulled back allows one arrow to drop into its place in the barrel, from which, of course, a sufficient length of the upper part has been cut away to admit of the arrow falling in. When the trigger is pulled, the string drives the lower arrow out from beneath the others; the next arrow then rests on the string, and, when that is again drawn back, drops like the first into the barrel; and so on until all are exhausted, and it becomes necessary to replenish the reservoir.

The pellet bow, the subject of the illustration below, is an instrument with which many tribes make excellent practice with small pellets of hardened clay. For the inexperienced, a padded glove is necessary for the protection of the left thumb, and there is also a peculiar knack in so holding the bow that that arm shall be the merest trifle out of the line of flight of the pellet.

Many semi-barbarous nations are perfectly aware of the advantage to be gained by rifling their arrows, and this is done sometimes by having rather large barbs, and giving them a pitch or turn on opposite sides, or by putting on the feathers spirally.

In using the arrow for the capture of tortoises on the South American rivers, the archers like to shoot at such a distance that they may give their arrow a good elevation, and allow it to fall more perpendicularly on the back of the tortoise, as it has then a better chance of penetrating the shell. It has no barb, as, if its broad point once pierces, there is not much fear of its being dragged out.

A thorn wreath is used by the Uganda and other nations in Central Africa, and is described by Captain Speke. The thorns all point to the centre, and yield just enough to allow an antelope or other animal to put his foot through, when their points are sure to enter the leg, and prevent its coming off. A log is made fast to it, heavy enough to impede the motions of the animal, but not sufficiently so to tear the wreath off from his leg and allow him to get away. Young branches of many kinds of mimosa in South Africa, which have thorns 5in. or 6in. long, would answer well for this. The ancient Romans and Greeks made use of this contrivance in deer hunting.

We remember seeing, several years ago, the foot of a Vaal rheebok encumbered with a joint of the spine of a horse or ox. The poor creature had literally put its foot in it some time before, and had worn the painful appendage till the skin beneath was destroyed and the tendons weakened, which led to its being eventually caught.

Europeans are very rarely reduced to such a state of destitution as to be entirely without some tool or weapon of iron or steel, even if it is merely an old jack knife; yet such cases may, and sometimes do, happen. We remember reading with great interest the tale of two seamen who, during many weeks’ sojourn on a small island, possessed absolutely nothing but one knife, which served them to cut up the sea birds they managed to catch, till at length this, having been wrapped in a bloody cloth and carefully stowed away in a crevice of the rocks, was found by some bird, dragged from its hiding place, and irrecoverably lost; then they with great labour beat out and ground down upon the rocks an old spike nail. Under such circumstances, the ability to produce a cutting edge from a flint or other pebble of sufficient hardness would have stood them in good stead; and even, if we remember how often edged tools are spared by using a piece of glass as a scraper, we shall be ready to acknowledge that a keen-edged fragment of flint, obsidian, or agate may advantageously be used in the same manner. Perhaps it may be thought absurd to give directions for the breaking of glass for this purpose, yet, simple as the matter seems, a hint may not be thrown away: Take the back of a knife, or the smooth straight edge of any piece of iron fixed with tolerable firmness for a moment, then, taking the piece of glass in both hands, rest its edge midway between them on the edge of the iron; let the upper edge of the glass lean from you, and push it gently along the iron, so as slightly to indent the edge of the glass; then, reversing its position so as to make it lean towards you, draw it smartly along the iron, and you will find it separated by a clean fracture directly across, forming a line more or less curved, and leaving one edge of the glass much sharper than the other. By a little practice, and by pressing a little more with one hand than the other, almost any curvature that the work to be done may require may be achieved.

In North Australia we had reason to believe that many of the tribes through whose country we passed were utterly ignorant of the use of iron. Fragments of jasper and other stones were found in several localities, where they had evidently been used for cutting up or skinning animals. Spear heads that they had dropped or lost in the chase were occasionally picked up; and once we came across a considerable area profusely strewn with chips of every form and kind, indicating that the manufacture of weapons had been extensively carried on there. Some of these might be relics of antiquity; but those strewn upon the surface over an area of 200yds. or 300yds. were quite recent; while along the river side were holes in the earth surrounded by scorched shells of the freshwater mussel, of the tortoise and turtle, besides bones of fish and alligators, and fragments of charred wood and blackened stones that had been used in cooking. The savages might have been few in number; perhaps in one instance the cooking holes would indicate the presence of twenty or thirty; while, from the number of chips, from six to eight seemed to have been engaged in making weapons; and it must be remembered that, thoroughly as they enjoy the pleasure of doing nothing, they are neither ignorant nor idle when employed either in the chase or in the preparation of snares or weapons for it. Besides this—as only the perfect weapons would be taken away for actual service, and the failures and imperfect ones would far outnumber them—it is easy to imagine how such chips would accumulate during successive generations.

The following explanation of the progress of stone-implement making was given us by a fellow traveller, and our own examination of the fragments on the spot confirmed his statement:—The operator, squatting down before a block large and solid enough to be used as an anvil, selects a pebble as nearly oval as possible, and about the size of an ostrich egg or a cocoanut. One end of this he strikes on the large block, so as to detach a fragment, which leaves a flattened base; then, taking it vertically in his hands, he strikes the edge of this base upon the anvil, detaching in succession two ovate chips as nearly as possible equal in form and size; and this, if cleverly done, leaves a sharp and well-defined central rib, with a slightly hollowed facet on either side. The next blow should, if successful, split off another piece, small at the base, spreading slightly as it goes upwards, and finally tapering to a keen point, with the rib previously formed running truly along the centre; and this chip constitutes the spear head, which is fastened to the shaft with gum and lashings of bark or vegetable fibre. If this is well done, at least three chips must have been made in the production of one head; but if, as is most likely, the failures greatly outnumber the successes, the proportion of chips must be greatly increased. Sometimes, when a pebble is found well suited for the work, facets are struck off on all sides, and spear heads are formed as long as the cleavage of the “core” remains sufficiently perfect. Some of these, when about half worked out, present so great a resemblance to a common beer glass with facets on it, that we hardly know how to convey a better idea of the peculiar form. The stone tomahawks discovered were generally of trap or greenstone. They were first chipped out into a long wedge-like form, and then with great labour ground up to a uniform rounded edge upon other stones, and with gum and lashings securely fixed into a branch, part of which is generally made to bend round them as a handle. Blacksmiths in this country secure their cold chisels much in the same manner.

CHAPTER XVII.
TRACKING, HUNTING, AND TRAPPING.

Sometimes a number of men will tread in each other’s footsteps, or they will walk backward for short distances, or will put on their shoes heel foremost; but a practised eye will soon detect the deceit, and be aroused to double vigilance. It may be thought that a man passing barefooted over a hard rock would leave no trace; and yet the fine dust of the road he left, caked by perspiration, has been sufficient to betray him. Sometimes, in a grassy country, the track is best seen by looking out ahead, when it appears as a continuous line, showing where the grass has been turned, although it is almost invisible at a short distance; and this is sometimes the case on plains of coarse sand or shingle. Very frequently, though no actual footprint may remain, stones or pebbles will have been turned so as to lie with that side uppermost which has for a long time rested on the ground, and an eye accustomed to observation detects this at once, and will sometimes see, by the condition of the upturned side, whether it has been moved so recently as not yet to be perfectly dried. If a shower has fallen, it will at once be seen whether the tracks were made before the rain, during it, or afterwards; in the same manner the morning or evening dew upon the tracks will furnish a test of time, as will the grass withering, if crushed in the heat of the day or partially restored if bent while the dew was on it.

If there has been wind, it may be known whether the tracks were made during its continuance, by the position of the grass, or by the sand or dust drifted from it; and if the wind has changed at a remembered time, it may be possible to tell exactly the point at which the track and change took place. If periodical or alternate winds blow, as, for instance, the land and sea breezes near the coast, it will be easy to tell during which of them the track was made.

Sleeping places, or halts for rest, for food, drink, or other purposes, should be carefully sought for. The condition of the grass cropped by an animal, and the fragments dropped from its mouth, must be examined, as also its dung, the comparative moisture or dryness of which is an unfailing index to the time that has elapsed since it was dropped.

If there are two or more tracks, and the time when one was made is known, that of the others may be inferred by looking sharply for any place where they cross, and ascertaining which overlies the other. We have been followed for many miles at night by a lion, but though we knew by the panic spreading among the oxen that something was disturbing them, we were not aware of the fact till our Hottentot went back next morning and reported the track of “a great man lion, step for step upon our horse’s spoor.”

Not only can the period of time at which tracks are made be very closely estimated, but various circumstances connected with the track will not unfrequently afford most important information. As, for instance, where the tracks of naked feet are investigated, it will generally be found that savages in walking turn their toes in, whilst Europeans turn theirs out; if the track is left by shod men, the description of foot gear will often tell a tale. A mocassin print with the toes turned out would indicate that a white man in Indian gear had passed. The army pattern boot or shoe, the native sandal, worn by aborigines of some countries, the shooting boot, and the light buck-skin shoe, all leave their well-marked and distinctive tracks. The particular manner in which a boot or shoe sole has been nailed or repaired will enable an experienced tracker to follow its print unerringly amongst fifty others; large or small, narrow or wide, the track will in almost all cases retain its individuality, except when cunning Europeans put on other men’s boots for the purpose of crime.

The nature of a footprint will, by its comparative depth and form, show whether the person who made it carried a burden, or was in light marching order; if in a hurry, or travelling leisurely; whether travelling willingly, or led as a captive; whether sober or intoxicated. In following horse tracks the pace at which the animal or animals were going can be judged by the impressions left on the ground. A stray horse walking leisurely away, feeding as it goes, will usually leave an irregular but well-marked track, causing but little disturbance of the surface of the ground; a sudden fright caused by the appearance of a wild animal or an attempt at capture will be shown by a scattering of earth, sand, or gravel, and probably by the casting out of the pellets which collect in the hollows of the feet. A frightened horse starting without a rider will usually leave the deep and disturbed tracks caused by ill-directed speed at the very commencement of the run, which will in most cases prove rather erratic. Had the same horse been galloped away by a rider, the man’s track might be found, or if not, the first sixteen or twenty hoof strokes will vary in distance, depth, &c., from those farther on, where the animal had been caused to strike into his regular stride. Most hunters can identify the track of their own horse. A defect in either hoof, a broken shoe, and the mode of shoeing, are all matters to be well looked to. The horses of wild tribes, from not being shod, are to be distinguished from those belonging to Europeans, who either shoe “all round” or leave the hind feet bare, and only shoe the fore hoofs. Mule tracks are not of the same form as those of the wider and rounder footed horse, and can be instantly recognised. Tracking on snow is usually followed with much greater rapidity than when prosecuted on the uncovered ground; still no little experience is needed to successfully follow up partly obliterated and wholly filled up footsteps. The impressions left in snow by different animals require some study before the inexperienced hunter can with certainty distinguish one from another. The art of tracking can no more be taught without the aid of the forest and the plain to demonstrate in, than can a skilful cricketer be made without allowing him to play the game. The hints which are here given are merely intended to form a sort of groundwork, on which the experienced hunter must himself build. In traversing the woods and wilds let nothing escape the eye, and never allow the slightest deviation from the common order of things to pass without close scrutiny and the application to the case of a system of inductive reasoning. No living creature acts voluntarily without aim; and, although at times much mystery surrounds the doings of some furred or feathered inhabitants of the wilderness, depend on it a little close scrutiny will not fail to show both plan and purpose in that which at first appeared an enigma. The stranger to the wilds would feel no little compassion for the poor crippled lapwing plover, who, crying plaintively, totters on and struggles to escape from the hunter, until at length, on a good space of ground being travelled over in fruitless pursuit, the cunning bird wheels away aloft with a mocking whistle, and shortly rejoins her brood of mouse-like little ones among the moss hags. We once saw a hyena near our camp take a piece of old dry goat’s hide in his mouth and perform a number of strange and uncouth movements, as if either lame or drunk; a second, however, crouched, partly concealed by some euphorbium bushes and stones. Their object was to lure away our dogs whilst they themselves remained at a safe distance, when the pair would have made short work of some of them. In tracking wounded game look out sharply for even the most minute blood specks or flakes of foam, these, where found, are great helps over hard ground. Dead or dying animals are discovered in an incredibly short space of time by birds of prey; and when they are seen curling and wheeling over any particular spot you may rest assured that food is the attraction. Nothing requires greater care and circumspection than the approach of the hunter to the lurking place of any animal capable of doing mischief when suffering from the effects of a wound. We have known even antelopes to use their horns freely when unable to escape. No large beast of prey should be approached, although apparently dead, until all doubt on the subject is removed by either a shot through the head or a pelting with stones.

Within the colonies, of course, roads are regularly made, but in the wild country beyond, and less important places within, the boundary the so-called roads are merely foot or bridle paths or waggon tracks. We have heard a farmer say, “I have made a new road round the mountain to-day,” and we understood by this merely that he had driven his waggon by a fresh route, leaving others to follow his track if they thought it better than the old one. Sometimes the waggon is not employed upon this work, but the track having been first carefully estimated by the eye a thorn tree is cut down, dragged along it by the oxen, and the road is made. A waggon track across the country seems practically indelible, the wheels are almost sure to crush the side of an ant-hill here and there, and even if the insects repair the damage the new work will always show. If it passes during the rains, the clay kneaded by the feet of the oxen, or furrowed by the wheels, is baked so hard by the succeeding hot weather that ordinary vegetation for many seasons will not efface the marks. If in the dry season grasses are crushed down, the stumps of a tuft will show for a long time the passage of the wheels. More especially is this the case if a fire sweeps over the plain immediately after, or if the waggon passes during or after a prairie fire. We have known a fellow traveller recognise in this manner the tracks his waggon had made seven years before. The lines of charred stumps crushed short down remaining to indicate the passage of the wheels, though all other impressions had been obliterated by the rank annual growth of grass, fully 12ft. in height.

Often when waggons have passed for the first time across a grassy plain, the vegetation they have crushed down will be partially replaced or mingled with other kinds, either indigenous, and only waiting for this opportunity to spring up, or growing from undigested seeds from other localities deposited in the droppings of the oxen; or even it may be exactly the same vegetation simply rendered more luxuriant by being thus manured. We have seen a broad grassy plain looking like an immense corn field, but right across it the road was marked by a broad band of yellow flowers contrasting with the deep green around.

In many countries the prevailing winds leave unfailing indices of the direction of the points of the compass. Thus all the unsheltered trees on the road from Cape Town lean towards the north-west or north-north-west; and on the sub-tropical plains of South Africa and Australia we frequently noticed that the continued winds from the south-east had laid the grass towards the opposite point. The rising or setting sun is a useful guide, so is the moon, and also the stars; but the traveller must acquire for himself the habit of observing where any of the heavenly bodies are likely to be at a given time, by day or night, and this while he is upon known paths, and not in actual need of them, and then his knowledge will serve him if by accident he should lose the road. If the declination is the same as the latitude of the place, the sun will be vertical at noon, and therefore of no service as a guide for nearly a quarter of an hour, but by extemporising a plumb line, and observing whether its shadow shortens or lengthens, it may soon be found whether the sun is east or west of the meridian. In using stars select, if possible, those that are far north or south, and as low as possible; or, if the pole be far above the horizon—as it must be in all places far removed from the equator—take the star that is nearest to it, and that consequently revolves with the least possible change of position. In the north the constellation of the Great Bear will serve, but if the pole star can be seen, it is, of course, the best—the two stars called the Pointers will guide the eye to it. And in the south, when the southern cross is vertical, either above or below the pole, it is due south; and this may be ascertained by trying when the two stars of the longer beam coincide with a plumb line, but at any time the position of the pole may be estimated by remembering that it is half-way between the lower star of the cross and the little Magellan cloud.

In travelling with a waggon from almost any civilised colony, it will generally be found that traders and hunters have penetrated so far, that for perhaps 1500 or 2000 miles there is nothing to be done but to let the waggon driver follow their tracks, which will generally be in every respect the best that could be selected, while the traveller hunts or explores on either side the path, or gains experience as to the slope a waggon can climb, descend, or travel on without capsizing; the average size of trees under the branches of which it can pass, and the density of the grove in which it can continue a gently meandering course between the trees without the absolute necessity of cutting a road, which, of course, he avoids if possible by making even a considerable détour, for the labour is excessive and severe.

The professional hunters in South Africa, and indeed most of the amateurs who are ardent in the pursuit of game, not only follow the wild animals by day, but as they become shy, or few in number, lie in wait for them at the waters at which they come to drink by night; for the less dangerous animals they merely throw up a circular wall of loose stones, 2ft. or 3ft. high, to hide the hunter from the view of the approaching animals; and not unfrequently an experienced hand will even watch in these for the lion, the rhinoceros, or the elephant, trusting for security to a quick eye and ear, and to skill in handling the two or three spare guns which are kept ready loaded within easy reach.

With the larger animals it is, however, more advisable to dig a pit about 10ft. long, 3ft. deep, and 30in. wide, and to roof in 5ft. or 6ft. of the central part of this with stout logs, that an elephant would not break were he to tread on them in passing over; the ends are left open, and a bank of earth is left in each, large enough for the hunter to sit upon, with nothing but his head showing above the edge of the “scherm.” Generally two men lie in each pit, one watching whilst the other sleeps. The pit should be made in a spot carefully chosen to leeward of the path by which the elephants or other animals are likely to come, and great care must be taken to cover any signs of human work about it. The cut ends of the logs placed across it must especially be hidden, and if chips have been made in the vicinity, they ought to be removed, and everything reduced as nearly as possible to its natural appearance and condition. Most hunters carry a pick and one or two spades for this and similar purposes, but we have found a worn-out adze exceedingly handy and much liked by native servants. The work should be commenced early in the day, so that it may be finished by a little after noon, and left to recover its natural quiet, and the air to purify itself from the taint of man, for even though the elephant may not be so early on the watch, smaller animals, disregarded by the hunter, are sure to be about him, and any alarm among them will most assuredly spread itself, until a general sense of danger pervades the wilderness; and if this extends to the keen senses of the elephants, they will not approach till they have assured themselves by every possible precaution that all is safe.

We have seen the path marked for a considerable distance by the serpentine track of the extended proboscis, sometimes actually touching the ground, and at others moving so closely in contact that the breathing would disturb the dust, as the leader of the herd deliberately tested the scent for every inch of the way. And the change of elephantine tactics since rifle pits were introduced sufficiently proves that what we call instinct is in reality an intelligence capable of receiving new ideas and guiding its possessors in meeting novel dangers. A few years since, when all the elephants had to fear was the pitfall of the Bushmen, with its sharpened stakes at the bottom, they would come fearlessly on, trusting to their leader, as with extended trunk as above mentioned, would literally feel the ground inch by inch, and, having once detected a frail deceitful covering that masked the pitfall, would toss aside the sticks and grass, and the whole herd would follow in contemptuous security along the very edge of the now undreaded snare. Far differently do they now act; if they but suspect the presence of a pit they will not approach until, by making a careful circuit far to leeward, they have assured themselves that their chief enemy man, and especially the white man, has not recently been near the water.

If a taint remains upon the air they act with the extremest caution; for hours they will remain motionless, waiting till their keen senses detect the recently tainted breeze, or their huge expanded ears catch the crackling of a twig or the slightest sound made by the incautious hunter. If their fears preponderate, they may not only refrain from drinking, but even desert the locality, and travel 50 or 100 miles during the night to another water, but thirst may overcome their prudence, and they may approach and enter the water; the hunter must then, in perfect quietude, make himself acquainted with the individuals of the herd, selecting the male that carries the heaviest ivory, and wait patiently until he comes near enough and exposes his shoulder, then, aiming upwards, at the lower part of the after lobe of the huge ear, he reckons either to cripple the animal by breaking its shoulder bone, or to kill it by sending his bullet to the heart; then, judging at once the effect of his shot, he catches up his spare gun and either fires again at the same elephant or selects another, and endeavours to cripple him also.

If two hunters are together, they can agree beforehand whether they shall fire together at the word given by one, or whether one man shall fire both guns. In the latter case at the word, or rather at the sign signifying “be ready,” both set the hair triggers of their rifles, and the man who is to fire being assured that his comrade is prepared, waits a favourable moment and fires; the other does not consciously pull the trigger, but, with his gun carefully aligned upon the vital part and his forefinger hardly touching the trigger, waits patiently till either the concussion of the air or the slight nervous action induced by the report of his friend’s gun causes his finger to contract upon the trigger, and his gun is fired.

In elephant shooting it is always well that two men should be together, for though it is not probable, it is at the same time possible that an elephant may attack the scherm. An attack of this kind occurred to the brothers Green, the well-known African travellers and hunters; the enraged elephant began tearing off the beams and earth that roofed the scherm, and in a few moments more would have dragged forth his victim, when the brother fired with deliberate aim and killed the enraged animal. We have already said that the favourite place for the death shot is behind the lobe of the ear, just where it overlaps the shoulder, but if the shot can penetrate about 1ft. below any part of the spine it may cut the large blood vessels there; or if fired from behind, and striking about 1ft. below the insertion of the tail, it may pass through to the vital organs in the chest, and prove fatal.

If an elephant is walking or running in such a manner that the death spot (“dood plek”) behind the shoulder is exposed the shot should be delivered, if possible, so as to strike when his leg is thrown forward and the thinnest part of the skin is tightly stretched; if the leg is backward, the skin will hang in loose yielding folds, and the shot will most likely fail to enter. African hunters seldom fire at the head of an elephant unless he is charging and they must check him—he seldom fails to swerve from his course on receiving the bullet—but this rule is not infallible; we have hit an elephant as fairly as possible in the forehead without effecting this.

Another rule is to run from the elephant the moment you have fired, and then look round to see if he is giving chase; if he is, you can increase your speed, if not, you can easily stop and get another shot; but if you wait for him to charge before you run you give him the chance of diminishing the distance very materially before you can get up the requisite speed. Wahlberg, the eminent Swedish naturalist, held that a man ought to stand like a rock, and the elephant would be sure to swerve before he reached him; sometimes the boldest course is the safest, but in his case at length it failed, the elephant came right on, and the career of the brave naturalist was closed for ever.

Sir Samuel Baker, although he has personally killed African elephants by shots in their head, found that he could by no means depend upon being able to do so, and remarks that the man who stands to meet the charge of an elephant by a shot in the head cannot feel the proper amount of confidence that his shot will be effective; indeed, the probability is that it will decidedly fail to kill.

Captain Faulkner, who volunteered to accompany Mr. E. D. Young in his search for Dr. Livingstone, told us that he determined to prove experimentally whether an African elephant could be killed by a head shot, and that he, by walking close up to them, killed several in that manner. It must, however, be remembered that he travelled in a new district, where never white hunter had been before, and that the elephants there were ignorant of their danger, and not prepared to meet or avoid it like those frequenting the old hunting grounds.

In hunting the elephant the favourite shot of the hunter in India is that in the head; but in Africa this is seldom successful. It is related in the early history of Natal that a party of sailors (Lieut. Farewell’s, we think) were challenged to go out with the Zulus to kill an elephant, chiefly with the desire that their defective weapons or want of skill would render them objects of ridicule to the natives. Neither their courage nor their good fortune, however, failed them; they formed front as the elephant came on, fired at the head, and killed it.

In Africa, as we have before stated, the “dood plek,” or death spot, of all the animals of the chase is considered to be behind or in the shoulder; and in the case of the elephant this is marked by the posterior and lower edge of the ear, which is so large that in a male 10ft. 9in. high at the shoulder the ear measured 5ft. 3in. in depth and 3ft. 9in. from front to rear. The African elephant is much larger than the Indian, which does not average more than 10ft.; while one shot by a friend measured 11ft. 8in. at the shoulder, and probably between 12ft. and 13ft. at the highest part of the back. Mr. Petherick also tells of one 12ft. 4in. at the shoulder, with a pair of tusks weighing 140lb.; and of another of 15ft. at the shoulder, whose pair weighed 100lb.

In general a bull’s tusk will weigh from 501b. to 90lb., and a cow’s not more than 30lb. The largest we have ever seen weighed, one 153lb. and the other 163lb.—100lb. Dutch being equal to 108lb. English.

The native methods of killing the elephant seem to alarm the survivors but little, and would probably never drive them from the country; but since the introduction of firearms they have gradually been forced so far towards the interior that it is difficult to believe that herds of them had once browsed on the slopes of Table Mountain. A few are left in the dense forests of the Kuysna, where they may not be shot without special permission, and some in the Addo and Sundays River Bush, between Algoa Bay and Grahamstown, and it will be long ere they are thoroughly extirpated from the country to the northward of Natal; but in the district of Lake Ngami they are becoming scarce, and the hunters from Walvisch Bay have to go yearly much farther to the northward, and follow them to new districts. Under these circumstances the waggons of the hunters have to be fitted out for the season’s journey like ships for a long voyage. Groceries and meal must be purchased before starting. If bread should be desired, corn may in general be bought for beads, and flesh will be supplied by spare cattle, sheep, or goats, driven with the waggons, or by the hunter’s rifle. Of working oxen there must be a sufficient number to replace those that die from the deadly sting of the tsetse, or other causes; and the stud should also be numerous enough to allow for the ravages of the horse sickness, for exhaustion, and for casualties in the field. A “salted” horse—i.e., one that has recovered from the sickness, and is, therefore, supposed not to be liable to it again—is worth any money; but this depends much on the locality, for if a horse that has passed the ordeal in a district where the sickness is in a mild form be taken to one where it is more severe he is liable again to disease and death.

The Western negroes are very ingenious and clever in hunting elephants. The herds are watched for weeks, their haunts are ascertained, their paths carefully traced, and the possibility of catching them in, or driving them to, the thickest parts of the forest debated on; then the bush vines, monkey ropes, lianas, or bindweed are cut, so as not quite to fall, but to hang loosely from the branches. Some of the paths are blocked by trees felled across them; others are left open as entrances and others as escapes; and in these last, where two stout trees, with conveniently forked branches, narrow the pass between them, a heavy beam, pierced with several holes, into which spear-heads are inserted and tightly wedged, is raised, so as to hang as high as possible directly across the path; a stout rope at each end of the beam is looped over the short thick end of a pole, which rests on a forked branch, and of which the longer end is held down by another rope attached to a peg stuck into the ground at the foot of the tree, the immense leverage afforded by the longer arm making it easy for a small strain to keep it down, and the shorter end pointed up, so that the loop cannot slip off. When all is ready another line, about 16in. from the ground, is stretched from peg to peg across the path.

The forest is then surrounded, the elephants disturbed with loud noises, driven from their favourite haunts, and forced to take refuge in the thickest forest; and here men, previously stationed in the trees, cut the remaining bush vines, and let the tangle fall like a boarding netting among and around the elephants; spears and assegais are also hurled down on them at every opportunity. This is, however, a service of great danger, for the persecuted animal, with his far-reaching trunk, may seize the nearest hunter and dash him to jelly against a tree, or trample him to death. But while thus engaged, the others cut and let fall more tangle, and drive down upon him their broad-bladed spears until he sinks exhausted; while others that break away are driven with loud shouts into the openings that gradually narrow as the paths approach the beam falls (contrivances much like those used in the capture of the hippopotamus), where at the next step the elephant must trip the horizontal line, draw out or break the pegs, release the lever ends of the long triggers, and the next moment, with wounded body and disabled spine, lie writhing in the power of his enemies, some of whom, if they approach too closely his powerful wide-sweeping trunk, may yet, however, pay dearly for their victory.

It is fortunate, perhaps, that nearly all occupations necessary for the obtainment of animal food in a wild country not only entail the necessity for the expenditure of sufficient physical force to serve as healthful exercise, but also afford enjoyment enough to induce men to engage in them. It might be shown that even the daily labour of the mechanic is not always the exception to this rule. But for the present purpose it is enough that the chase, besides supplying food and raiment to savages and semi-barbarous tribes from the remotest antiquity till now, has always possessed such charms for the vigorous and healthy man rejoicing in his strength, and proud of the opportunity of displaying it, that not only the savage, confident in his personal address, and the support of his fellow-hunters, exults in open battle with the fiercest animals; in trials of speed and endurance with the fleetest; or of patience and watchful skill in ensnaring the most wary. But our own countrymen, led by the love of adventure and excitement, will leave behind the luxuries of civilised life, and cheerfully endure the privations of a toilsome journey for the mere chance of engaging single-handed with some fierce creature which, with their inferior weapons, a whole tribe of natives would find it difficult to subdue.

Nor is this love of excitement and adventure to be classed with the cold-blooded cruelty so often attributed to hunters. The battue system, by which herds of timid, helpless animals are driven from all quarters into an inclosure before some potentate—who sits in safety in his gallery with ready-loaded rifles, handed to him by obsequious attendants, who score off the hundreds he has slain—we surrender freely to the reproach and reprobation it deserves. There may be enjoyment in wholesale slaughter, but the spirit that could find it is not of the sort which urged a young military friend of ours to chase four lions across the plains near Bloem Fontein, and to regret only that his horse failed to bring him to close quarters before they gained the shelter of the broken rocky hills.

Of course there are “butchers” who, when animals happen to be plentiful and easy of approach, will kill for the mere pleasure of boasting of the numbers they have shot; but the true sportsman would turn disgusted from such facile slaughter. Some exercise of skill, endurance, and more or less personal risk, is necessary to his enjoyment; and when to his ardour for the chase he adds the accomplishments of the artist, the naturalist, and the geographer, he deserves the praise instead of the reproach of those who sit at home at ease, and cannot enter into the enthusiasm which alone has enabled him to endure privation and conquer difficulty, instead of turning weary and defeated from the hardships of travel. All travellers, and many missionaries in Africa, are from choice or necessity hunters—and those who do not desire in some way to improve the opportunities cast in their way are few in number—and if they enjoy the task of killing savage animals which, in the interests of humanity, had better be thinned off, the cattle farmers, the agriculturists, or the hungry natives, as they satisfy their cravings for animal food, will thank them, and hail the hunters as friends in need.

The Cape farmer, whether English or Dutch, is seldom so spiritless as not to enjoy the hunting of his own lions, and the avenging with his own hand the depredations on his cattle. With game more worthy of his lead, the Dutch colonist works more methodically; and though in general he exhibits but little of the dash and recklessness characteristic of the British officer, he lacks not courage or determination when occasion calls it forth.