HOMES OF THE BOSJESMANS — THE ROCK-CAVE — THE BUSH-HOUSE — TEMPORARY HABITATIONS — FOOD, AND MODE OF OBTAINING IT — HUNTING — CHASE OF THE OSTRICH — A SINGULAR STRATAGEM — OSTRICH FEATHERS, AND METHOD OF PACKING THEM — USES OF THE OSTRICH EGG-SHELL — CUNNING ROBBERS — CATTLE-STEALING — WARFARE — PETTY SKIRMISHING — BOSJESMANS AT BAY — SWIMMING POWERS OF THE BOSJESMANS — THE “WOODEN HORSE” — BENEVOLENT CONDUCT OF BOSJESMANS — THE WEAPONS OF THE BOSJESMANS — THE ARROW, AND ITS CONSTRUCTION — HOW ARROWS ARE CARRIED — POISON WITH WHICH THE ARROW IS COVERED — VARIOUS METHODS OF MAKING POISON — IRRITATING THE SERPENT — THE N’GWA, K’AA, OR POISON GRUB, AND ITS TERRIBLE EFFECTS — THE GRUB IN ITS DIFFERENT STAGES — ANTIDOTE — POISONED WATER — UNEXPECTED CONDUCT OF THE BOSJESMANS — THE QUIVER, SPEAR, AND KNIFE.

Having now glanced at the general appearance of the Bosjesman, we will rapidly review the course of his ordinary life.

Of houses or homes he is nearly independent. A rock cavern is a favorite house with the Bosjesman, who finds all the shelter he needs, without being obliged to exert any labor in preparing it. But there are many parts of the country over which he roams, in which there are no rocks, and consequently no caves. In such cases, the Bosjesman imitates the hare, and makes a “form” in which he conceals himself. He looks out for a suitable bush, creeps into it, and bends the boughs down so as to form a tent-like covering. The mimosa trees are favorite resorts with the Bosjesman, and it has been well remarked, that after a bush has been much used, and the young twigs begin to shoot upward, the whole bush bears a great resemblance to a huge bird’s-nest. The resemblance is increased by the habit of the Bosjesman of lining these primitive houses with hay, dried leaves, wool, and other soft materials. The Tarchonanthus forms the usual resting-place of these wild men, its pliant branches being easily bent into the required shape.

These curious dwellings are not only used as houses, but are employed as lurking-places, where the Bosjesman can lie concealed, and whence he launches his tiny but deadly arrows at the animals that may pass near the treacherous bush. It is in consequence of this simple mode of making houses that the name of Bosjesman, or Bushman, has been given to this group of South African savages. This, of course, is the Dutch title; their name, as given by themselves, is Saqua.

In places where neither rocks nor bushes are to be found, these easily contented people are at no loss for a habitation, but make one by the simple process of scratching a hole in the ground, and throwing up the excavated earth to windward. Sometimes they become rather luxurious, and make a further shelter by fixing a few sticks in the ground, and throwing over them a mat or a piece of hide, which will answer as a screen against the wind. In this hole a wonderful number of Bosjesmans will contrive to stow themselves, rolling their karosses round their bodies in the peculiar manner which has already been mentioned. The slight screen forms their only protection against the wind—the kaross their sole defence against the rain. When a horde of Bosjesmans has settled for a time in a spot which promises good hunting, they generally make tent-like houses by fixing flexible sticks in the ground, bending them so as to force them to assume a cage-like form, and then covering them with simple mats made of reeds. These huts are almost exactly like the primitive tents in which the gypsies of England invariably live, and which they prefer to the most sumptuous chamber that wealth, luxury, and art can provide.

So much for his houses. As to his food, the Bosjesman finds no difficulty in supplying himself with all that he needs. His wants are indeed few, for there is scarcely anything which a human being can eat without being poisoned, that the Bosjesman does not use for food. He has not the least prejudice against any kind of edible substance, and, provided that it is capable of affording nourishment, he asks nothing more. His luxuries are comprised in two words—tobacco and brandy; but food is a necessary of life, and is not looked upon in any other light.

There is not a beast, and I believe not a bird, that a Bosjesman will not eat. Snakes and other reptiles are common articles of diet, and insects are largely used as food by this people. Locusts and white ants are the favorite insects, but the Bosjesman is in no wise fastidious, and will eat almost any insect that he can catch. Roots, too, form a large portion of the Bosjesman’s diet, and he can discover the water-root without the assistance of a baboon. Thus it happens that the Bosjesman can live where other men would perish, and to him the wild desert is a congenial home. All that he needs is plenty of space, because he never cultivates the ground, nor breeds sheep or cattle, trusting entirely for his food to the casual productions of the earth, whether they be animal or vegetable.

It has already been mentioned that the Bosjesman obtains his meat by hunting. Though one of the best hunters in the world, the Bosjesman, like the Hottentot, to whom he is nearly related, has no love of the chase, or, indeed, for any kind of exertion, and would not take the trouble to pursue the various animals on which he lives, if he could obtain their flesh without the trouble of hunting them. Yet, when he has fairly started on the chase, there is no man more doggedly persevering; and even the Esquimaux seal-hunter, who will sit for forty-eight hours with harpoon in hand, cannot surpass him in endurance.

Small as he is, he will match himself against the largest and the fiercest animals of South Africa, and proceeds with perfect equanimity and certainty of success to the chase of the elephant, the rhinoceros, the lion, and the leopard. The former animals, whose skins are too tough to be pierced with his feeble weapons, he entraps by sundry ingenious devices, while the latter fall victims to the deadly poison with which his arrows are imbued. The skill of the Bosjesman is severely tested in the chase of the ostrich, a bird which the swiftest horse can barely overtake, and is so wary as well as swift, that a well-mounted hunter, armed with the best rifle, thinks himself fortunate when he can kill one.

The little Bosjesman has two modes of killing these birds. If he happens to find one of their enormous nests while the parent birds are away, he approaches it very cautiously, lest his track should be seen by the ever-watchful ostrich, and buries himself in the sand among the eggs. The reader will doubtless remember that several ostriches deposit their eggs in one nest, and that the nest in question is simply scraped in the sand, and is of enormous dimensions. Here the tiny hunter will lie patiently until the sun has gone down, when he knows that the parent birds will return to the nest. As they approach in the distance, he carefully fits a poisoned arrow to his bow, and directs its point toward the advancing ostriches. As soon as they come within range, he picks out the bird which has the plumpest form and the most luxuriant plumage, and with a single arrow seals its fate.

The chief drawback to this mode of hunting is, that the very act of discharging the arrow reveals the form of the hunter, and frightens the other birds so much that a second shot is scarcely to be obtained, and the Bosjesman is forced to content himself with one dead bird and the whole of the eggs. Fortunately, he is quite indifferent as to the quality of the eggs. He does not very much care if any of them should be addled, and will eat with perfect composure an egg which would alarm an European at six paces’ distance. Neither does he object to the eggs if they should be considerably advanced in hatching, and, if anything, rather fancies himself fortunate in procuring a young and tender bird without the trouble of chasing and catching it. Then the egg-shells, when the contents are removed, are most valuable for many purposes, and especially for the conveyance of water. For this latter purpose they are simply invaluable. The Bosjesmans always contrive to have a supply of water, but no one except themselves has the least notion where it is stored. If a Bosjesman kraal is attacked, and the captives interrogated as to the spot where the supply of water has been stored, they never betray the precious secret, but always pretend that they have none, and that they are on the point of dying with thirst. Yet, at some quiet hour of the night, a little yellow woman is tolerably sure to creep to their sides and give them a plentiful draught of water, while their captors are trying to lull their thirst by sleep. How they utilize their egg-shells of water, the reader will see in another place.

The eyes of the ostrich are keen enough, but those of the Bosjesman are keener, and if the small hunter, perched on his rocky observatory, happens to catch a glimpse of a number of ostriches in the far distance, he makes up his mind that in a few hours several of those birds will have fallen before the tiny bow and the envenomed arrow which it projects. He immediately creeps back to his apology for a hut, and there finds a complete hunter’s suit which he has prepared in readiness for such an occasion. It consists of the skin of an ostrich, without the legs, and having a stick passed up the neck. The skin of the body is stretched over a kind of saddle, which the maker has adapted to his own shoulders.

He first rubs his yellow legs with white chalk, and then fixes the decoy skin on his back, taking care to do it in such a manner, that, although it is quite firm as long as it has to be worn, it can be thrown off in a moment. The reason for this precaution will be seen presently. He then takes his bow and arrows and sets off in pursuit of the ostriches, using all possible pains to approach them in such a direction that the wind may blow from them to him. Were he to neglect this precaution, the watchful birds would soon detect him by the scent, and dash away where he could not possibly follow them.

As soon as the ostriches see a strange bird approaching, they cease from feeding, gather together, and gaze suspiciously at their supposed companion. Were the disguised hunter to approach at once, the birds would take the alarm, so he runs about here and there, lowering the head to the ground, as if in the act of feeding, but always contriving to decrease the distance between himself and the birds. At last he manages to come within range, and when he has crept tolerably close to the selected victim, he suddenly allows the head of the decoy-skin to fall to the ground, snatches up an arrow, speeds it on its deadly mission, and instantly raises the head again.

The stricken bird dashes off in a fright on receiving the wound, and all its companions run with it, followed by the disguised Bosjesman. Presently the wounded bird begins to slacken its speed, staggers, and falls to the ground, thus allowing the hunter to come up to the ostriches as they are gazing on their fallen companion, and permitting him to secure another victim. Generally, a skilful hunter will secure four out of five ostriches by this method of hunting, but it sometimes happens that the birds discover that there is something wrong, and make an attack on the apparent stranger. An assault from so powerful a bird is no trifle, as a blow from its leg is enough to break the limb of a powerful man, much more of so small and feeble a personage as a Bosjesman hunter. Then comes the value of the precaution which has just been mentioned. As soon as he finds the fraud discovered, the hunter runs round on the windward side of the ostriches, so as to give them his scent. They instantly take the alarm, and just in that moment when they pause in their contemplated attack, and meditate immediate flight, the Bosjesman flings off the now useless skin, seizes his weapons, and showers his arrows with marvellous rapidity among the frightened birds.

In this way are procured a very large proportion of the ostrich feathers which are sent to the European market, and the lady who admires the exquisite contour and beautiful proportions of a good ostrich plume has seldom any idea that it was procured by a little yellow man disguised in an ostrich skin, with bow and arrows in his hand, and his legs rubbed with chalk.

After he has plucked the feathers, he has a very ingenious mode of preserving them from injury. He takes hollow reeds, not thicker than an ordinary drawing pencil, and pushes the feathers into them as far as they will go. He then taps the end of the reeds against the ground, and, by degrees, the feather works its own way into the protecting tube. In this tube the feathers are carried about, and it is evident that a considerable number of them can be packed so as to make an easy load for a man.

When they kill an ostrich, they prepare from it a substance of a rather remarkable character. Before the bird is dead, they cut its throat, and then tie a ligature firmly over the wound, so as to prevent any blood from escaping. The wretched bird thus bleeds inwardly, and the flow of blood is promoted by pressing it and rolling it from side to side. Large quantities of mixed blood and fat are thus collected in the distensible crop, and, when the bird happens to be in particularly good condition, nearly twenty pounds of this substance are furnished by a single ostrich. The natives value this strange mixture very highly, and think that it is useful in a medicinal point of view.

The shell of the ostrich egg is nearly as valuable to the Bosjesman as its contents, and in some cases is still more highly valued. Its chief use is as a water vessel, for which it is admirably adapted. The women have the task of filling these shells; a task which is often a very laborious one when the water is scanty.

In common with many of the kindred tribes, they have a curious method of obtaining water when there is apparently nothing but mud to be found. They take a long reed, and tie round one end of it a quantity of dried grass. This they push as deeply as they conveniently can into the muddy soil, and allow it to remain there until the water has penetrated through the primitive filter, and has risen in the tube. They then apply their lips to the tube, and draw into their mouths as much water as they can contain, and then discharge it into an empty egg-shell by means of another reed; or, if they do not possess a second reed, a slight stick will answer the purpose if managed carefully. When filled, the small aperture that has been left in each egg is carefully closed by a tuft of grass very tightly forced into it, and the women have to undertake the labor of carrying their heavy load homeward. There is one mode of using these egg-shells which is worthy of mention.

The Bosjesmans are singularly ingenious in acting as spies. They will travel to great distances in order to find out if there is anything to be stolen, and they have a method of communicating with each other by means of the smoke of a fire that constitutes a very perfect telegraph. The Australian savage has a similar system, and it is really remarkable that two races of men, who are certainly among the lowest examples of humanity, should possess an accomplishment which implies no small amount of mental capability. Property to be worth stealing by a Bosjesman must mean something which can be eaten, and almost invariably takes the shape of cattle. Thus, to steal cattle is perhaps not so difficult a business, but to transport them over a wide desert is anything but easy, and could not be accomplished, even by a Bosjesman, without the exercise of much forethought.

In the first place, the Bosjesman is very careful of the direction in which he makes his raids, and will never steal cattle in places whence he is likely to be followed by the aggrieved owners. He prefers to carry off animals that are separated from his own district by a dry and thirsty desert, over which horses cannot pass, and which will tire out any pursuers on foot, because they cannot carry with them enough water for the journey. When his plans are laid, and his line of march settled, he sends the women along it, with orders to bury ostrich egg-shells full of water at stated distances, the locality of each being signified by certain marks which none but himself can read. As soon as this precaution is taken, he starts off at his best pace, and, being wonderfully tolerant of thirst, he and his companions reach their destination without making any very great diminution in the stock of water. They then conceal themselves until nightfall, their raids never taking place in the daytime.

In the dead of night they slink into the cattle pen, silently killing the watchman, if one should be on guard, and select the best animals, which they drive off. The whole of the remainder they either kill or maim, the latter being the usual plan, as it saves their arrows. But, if they should be interrupted in their proceedings, their raid is not the less fatal, for, even in the hurry of flight, they will discharge a poisoned arrow into every animal, so that not one is left. (See the engraving No. 2 on page 237.)

We will suppose, however, that their plans are successful, and that they have got fairly off with their plunder. They know that they cannot conceal the tracks of the cattle, and do not attempt to do so, but push on as fast as the animals can be urged, so as to get a long start of their pursuers. When they are fairly on the track, some of their number go in advance to the first station, dig up the water vessels, and wait the arrival of the remainder. The cattle are supplied with as much water as can be spared for them, in order to give them strength and willingness for the journey; the empty vessels are then tied on their backs, and they are again driven forward. In this manner they pass on from station to station until they arrive at their destination. Should, however, the pursuers come up with them, they abandon the cattle at once; invariably leaving a poisoned arrow in each by way of a parting gift, and take to flight with such rapidity, that the pursuers know that it is useless to follow them.

The needless destruction which they work among the cattle, which to a Hottentot or a Kaffir are almost the breath of life, has exasperated both these people to such a degree that they will lay aside for a time their differences, and unite in attacking the Bosjesman, who is equally hated by both. This, however, they do with every precaution, knowing full well the dangerous character of the enemies against whom they are about to advance, and not attempting any expedition unless their numbers are very strong indeed.

Of systematic warfare the Bosjesmans know nothing, although they are perhaps the most dangerous enemies that a man can have, his first knowledge of their presence being the clang of the bow, and the sharp whirring sound of the arrow. Sometimes a horde of Bosjesmans will take offence at some Hottentot or Kaffir tribe, and will keep up a desultory sort of skirmish for years, during which time the foe knows not what a quiet night means.

The Bosjesmans dare not attack their enemies in open day, neither will they venture to match themselves in fair warfare against any considerable number of antagonists. But not a man dares to stray from the protection of the huts, unless accompanied by armed comrades, knowing that the cunning enemies are always lurking in the neighborhood, and that a stone, or bush, or tree, will afford cover to a Bosjesman. These tiny but formidable warriors will even conceal themselves in the sand, if they fancy that stragglers may pass in that direction, and the puff-adder itself is not more invisible, nor its fangs more deadly, than the lurking Bosjesman. On the bare cliffs they can conceal themselves with marvellous address, their yellow skins being so like the color of the rocks that they are scarcely visible, even when there is no cover. Moreover, they have a strange way of huddling themselves up in a bundle, so as to look like conical heaps of leaves and sticks, without a semblance of humanity about them.

Open resistance they seldom offer, generally scattering and escaping in all directions if a direct charge is made at them, even if they should be assailed by one solitary enemy armed only with a stick. But they will hang about the outskirts of the hostile tribe for months together, never gathering themselves into a single band which can be assaulted and conquered, but separating themselves into little parties of two or three, against whom it would be absurd for the enemy to advance in force, which cannot be conquered by equal numbers, and yet which are too formidable to be left unmolested. The trouble and annoyance which a few Bosjesmans can inflict upon a large body of enemies is almost incredible. The warriors are forced to be always on the watch, and never venture singly without their camp, while the women and children have such a dread of the Bosjesmans, that the very mention of the name throws them into paroxysms of terror. The difficulty of attacking these pertinacious enemies is very much increased by the nomad character of the Bosjesmans. The Hottentot tribes can move a village in half a day, but the Bosjesmans, who can exist without fixed habitations of any kind, and whose most elaborate houses are far simpler than the worst specimens of Hottentot architecture, can remove themselves and their habitations whenever they choose; and, if necessary, can abolish their rude houses altogether, so as not to afford the least sign of their residence.

Sometimes, but very rarely, the Kaffirs, exasperated by repeated losses at the hands of the Bosjesmans, have determined to trace the delinquents to their home, and to extirpate the entire community. The expedition is one which is fraught with special danger, as there is no weapon which a Kaffir dreads more than the poisoned arrow of the Bosjesman. In such cases the overwhelming numbers of the assailants and the absolute necessity of the task which they have set themselves, are sure to lead to ultimate success, and neither men nor women are spared. The very young children are sometimes carried off and made to act as slaves, but, as a general rule, the Kaffirs look upon the Bosjesmans much as if they were a set of venomous serpents, and kill them all with as little compunction as they would feel in destroying a family of cobras or puff-adders.

It has been mentioned that the Bosjesmans will seldom offer any resistance in open fight. Sometimes, however, they will do so, but only in case of being driven to bay, preferring usually to lie in wait, and in the dead of night to steal upon their foes, send a few poisoned arrows among them, and steal away under cover of the darkness. Yet when flight is useless, and they are fairly at bay, they accept the position, and become as terrible foes as can be met; losing all sense of fear, and fighting with desperate courage. A small band of them has often been known to fight a large party of enemies, and to continue their struggles until every man has been killed. On one such occasion, all had been killed except one man, who had ensconced himself so closely behind a stone that his enemies could not manage to inflict a mortal wound. With his bow he drew toward him the spent arrows of his fallen kinsmen, and, though exhausted by loss of blood from many wounds on his limbs, he continued to hurl the arrows at his foes, accompanying each with some abusive epithet. It was not until many of his enemies had fallen by his hand, that he exposed himself to a mortal blow.

It is a curious custom of the Bosjesman, who likes to have his arrows ready to hand, to carry them in his headdress, just as an old-fashioned clerk carries his pen behind his ear. Generally he keeps them in his quiver with their points reversed, but, when he is actively engaged in fighting, he takes them out, turns the points with their poisoned ends outward, and arranges them at each side of his head, so that they project like a couple of skeleton fans. They give a most peculiar look to the features, and are as sure an indication of danger as the spread hood of the cobra, or the menacing “whirr” of the rattlesnake. He makes great use of them in the war of words, which in Southern Africa seems invariably to accompany the war of weapons, and moves them just as a horse moves his ears. With one movement of the head he sends them all forward like two horns, and with another he shakes them open in a fan-like form, accompanying each gesture with rapid frowns like those of an angry baboon, and with a torrent of words that are eloquent enough to those who understand them.

He does not place all his arrows in his headdress, but keeps a few at hand in the quiver. These he uses when he has time for a deliberate aim. But, if closely pressed, he snatches arrow after arrow out of his headdress, fits them to the string, and shoots them with a rapidity that seems almost incredible. I have seen a Bosjesman send three successive arrows into a mark, and do it so quickly that the three were discharged in less than two seconds. Indeed, the three sounds followed one another as rapidly as three blows could have been struck with a stick.

Traversing the country unceasingly, the Bosjesman would not be fit for his ordinary life if he could be stopped by such an obstacle as a river; and it is accordingly found that they can all swim. As the rivers are often swift and strong, swimming across them in a straight line would be impossible but for an invention which is called “Houtepaard,” or wooden horse. This is nothing more than a piece of wood six or seven feet in length, with a peg driven into one end. When the swimmer crosses a stream, he places this peg against his right shoulder so that the wood is under his body, and helps to support it. How this machine works may be seen from the following anecdote by Dr. Lichtenstein, which not only illustrates the point in question, but presents the Bosjesmans in a more amiable light than we are generally accustomed to view them.

“A hippopotamus had been killed, and its body lashed to the bank with leathern ropes. The stream, however, after the fashion of African streams, had risen suddenly, and the current swept downward with such force, that it tore asunder the ropes in question, and carried off the huge carcass. Some Bosjesmans went along the bank to discover the lost animal, and at last found it on the other bank, and having crossed the river, carrying with them the ends of some stout ropes, they tried unsuccessfully to tow the dead animal to the other side. Some other means of accomplishing the proposed end were now to be devised, and many were suggested, but none found practicable. The hope of retrieving the prize, however, induced a young colonist to attempt swimming over; but, on account of the vast force of the stream, he was constrained to return ere he had reached a fourth part of the way. In the mean time, the two Bosjesmans who had attained the other side of the water, having made a large fire, cut a quantity of fat off the monster’s back, which they baked and ate most voraciously.

“This sight tempted five more of the Bosjesmans to make a new essay. Each took a light flat piece of wood, which was fastened to the right shoulder, and under the arm; when in the water the point was placed directly across the stream, so that the great force of water must come upon that, while the swimmer, with the left arm and the feet, struggled against the stream, in the same manner as a ship with spread sails, when, according to the sailor’s language, it sails before the wind. They arrived quicker than the first, and almost without any effort, directly to the opposite point, and immediately applied all their strength, though in vain, to loosening the monster from the rock on which it hung.

“In the mean time, a freed slave, belonging to the Governor’s train, an eager, spirited young fellow, and a very expert swimmer, had the boldness to attempt following the savages without any artificial aid, and got, though slowly, very successfully, about half-way over. Here, however, his strength failed him; he was carried away and sunk, but appeared again above the water, struggling with his little remaining powers to reach the shore. All efforts were in vain; he was forced to abandon himself to the stream; but luckily, at a turn in the river, which soon presented itself, he was carried to the land half dead.

“The Bosjesmans, when they saw his situation, quitted their fire, and, hastening to his assistance, arrived at the spot just as he crawled on shore, exhausted with fatigue, and stiffened with cold. It was a truly affecting sight to behold the exertions made by the savages to recover him. They threw their skins over him, dried him, and rubbed him with their hands, and, when he began somewhat to revive, carried him to the fire and laid him down by it. They then made him a bed with their skins, and put more wood on the fire, that he might be thoroughly warmed, rubbing his benumbed limbs over with the heated fat of the river-horse. But evening was now coming on, and, in order to wait for the entire restoration of the unfortunate adventurer, it was necessary for the whole party to resolve on passing the night where they were. Some of the Bosjesmans on this side exerted themselves to carry the poor man’s clothes over to him, that he might not be prevented by the cold from sleeping, and recovering strength for his return.

“Early the next morning the Bosjesmans were seen conducting their protégé along the side of the stream, to seek out some more convenient spot for attempting to cross it. They soon arrived at one where there was a small island in the river, which would of course much diminish the fatigue of crossing; a quantity of wood was then fastened together, on which he was laid, and thus the voyage commenced. The young man, grown timid with the danger from which he had escaped, could not encounter the water again without great apprehensions; he with the whole party, however, arrived very safely and tolerably quick at the island, whence, with the assistance of his two friends, he commenced the second and most toilsome part of the undertaking. Two of the Bosjesmans kept on each side of the bundle of wood, while the young man himself exerted all his remaining powers to push on his float. When they reached a bank in the river, on which they were partially aground, having water only up to the middle, he was obliged to stop and rest awhile; but by this time he was so completely chilled, and his limbs were so benumbed with the cold, that it seemed almost impossible for him to proceed. In vain did his comrades, who looked anxiously on to see the termination of the adventure, call to him to take courage, to make, without delay, yet one more effort; he, as well as an old Bosjesman, the best swimmer of the set, seemed totally to have lost all presence of mind.

“At this critical moment, two of the Bosjesmans who had remained on our side of the water were induced, after some persuasion, to undertake the rescue of these unfortunate adventurers. A large bundle of wood was fastened together with the utmost despatch; on the end of this they laid themselves, and to the middle was fastened a cord; this was held by those on shore, so that it might not fall into the water and incommode them in swimming. It was astonishing to see with what promptitude they steered directly to the right spot, and came, notwithstanding the rapidity of the stream, to the unfortunate objects they sought. The latter had so far lost all coolness and presence of mind, that they had not the sense immediately to lay hold of the cord, and their deliverers were in the utmost danger of being carried away the next moment by the stream. At this critical point, the third, who was standing on the bank, seized the only means remaining to save his companions. He pushed them before him into the deep water, and compelled them once more, in conjunction with him, to put forth all their strength, while the other two struggled with their utmost might against the stream. In this manner he at length succeeded in making them catch hold of the rope, by means of which all five were ultimately dragged in safety to the shore.”

We will now proceed to the weapons with which the Bosjesman kills his prey and fights his enemies. The small but terrible arrows which the Bosjesman uses with such deadly effect are constructed with very great care, and the neatness with which they are made is really surprising, when we take into consideration the singularly inefficient tools which are used.

The complete arrow is about eighteen inches in length, and it is made of four distinct parts. First, we have the shaft, which is a foot or thirteen inches long, and not as thick as an ordinary black-lead pencil. This is formed from the common Kaffir reed, which, when dry, is both strong and light. At either end it is bound firmly with the split and flattened intestine of some animal, which is put on when wet, and, when dry, shrinks closely, and is very hard and stiff. One end is simply cut off transversely, and the other notched in order to receive the bowstring. Next comes a piece of bone, usually that of the ostrich, about three inches in length. One end of it is passed into the open end of the shaft, and over the other is slipped a short piece of reed, over which a strong “wrapping” of intestine has been placed. This forms a socket for the true head of the arrow—the piece of ostrich bone being only intended to give the needful weight to the weapon.

The head itself is made of ivory, and is shaped much like the piece of bone already described. One end of it is sharpened, so that it can be slipped into the reed socket, and the other is first bound with intestine, and then a notch, about the eighth of an inch deep, is made in it. This notch is for the reception of the triangular piece of flattened iron, which we may call the blade.

The body of the arrow is now complete, and all that is required is to add the poison which makes it so formidable. The poison, which is first reduced to the consistency of glue, is spread thickly over the entire head of the arrow, including the base of the head. Before it has dried, a short spike of iron or quill is pushed into it, the point being directed backward, so as to form a barb. If the arrow strikes a human being, and he pulls it out of the wound, the iron blade, which is but loosely attached to the head, is nearly sure to come off and remain in the wound. The little barb is added for the same purpose, and, even if the arrow itself be immediately extracted, enough of the poison remains in the wound to cause death. But it is not at all likely that the arrow will be extracted. The head is not fastened permanently to the shaft, but is only loosely slipped into it. Consequently the shaft is pulled away easily enough, but the head is left in the wound, and affords no handle whereby it can be extracted. As may be seen from the illustration No. 4 on the 247th page, a considerable amount of the poison is used upon each arrow.

This little barb, or barblet, if the word may be used, is scarcely as large as one nib of an ordinary quill pen, and lies so close to the arrow that it would not be seen by an inexperienced eye. In form it is triangular, the broader end being pressed into the poison, and the pointed end directed backward, and lying almost parallel with the shaft. It hardly seems capable of being dislodged in the wound, but the fact is, that the poison is always soft in a warm climate, and so allows the barb, which is very slightly inserted, to remain in the wound, a portion of poison of course adhering to its base.

This is the usual structure of a good arrow, but the weapons are not exactly alike. Some of them have only a single piece of bone by way of a head, while many are not armed with the triangular blade. Arrows that possess this blade are intended for war, and are not employed in the peaceful pursuit of game. Hunting arrows have the head shaped much like a spindle, or, to speak more familiarly, like the street boy’s “cat,” being tolerably thick in the middle and tapering to a point at each end. When not in actual use, the Bosjesman reverses the head, so that the poisoned end is received into the hollow shaft, and thus is debarred from doing useless harm. These heads are not nearly as thick as those which are used for war, neither do they need as much poison.

The Bosjesman quiver and arrows which are illustrated on page 247 were taken from the dead body of their owner, and were kindly sent to me by H. Dennett, Esq. They are peculiarly valuable, because they are in all stages of manufacture, and show the amount of labor and care which is bestowed on these weapons. There is first the simple reed, having both ends carefully bound with sinew to prevent it from splitting. Then comes a reed with a piece of bone inserted in one end. On the next specimen a small socket is formed at the end of the bone, in order to receive the ivory head; and so the arrows proceed until the perfect weapon is seen.

As to the poison which is used in arming the arrows, it is of two kinds. That which is in ordinary use is made chiefly of vegetable substances, such as the juice of certain euphorbias, together with the matter extracted from the poison-gland of the puff-adder, cobra, and other venomous serpents. In procuring this latter substance they are singularly courageous. When a Bosjesman sees a serpent which can be used for poisoning arrows, he does not kill it at once, but steals quietly to the spot where it is lying, and sets his foot on its neck. The snake, disturbed from the lethargic condition which is common to all reptiles, starts into furious energy, and twists and struggles and hisses, and does all in its power to inflict a wound on its foe. This is exactly what the Bosjesman likes, and he excites the serpent to the utmost pitch of fury before he kills it. The reason of this conduct is, that the desire to bite excites the poison-gland, and causes it to secrete the venomous substance in large quantities.

The Bosjesmans say that not only is the poison increased in volume, but that its venomous properties are rendered more deadly by exciting the anger of the reptile before it is killed. The materials for making this poison are boiled down in a primitive kind of pot made of a hollowed sandstone, and, when thoroughly inspissated, it assumes the color and consistency of pitch. It is put on very thickly, in some parts being about the eighth of an inch thick. In some arrows, the little triangular head is only held in its place by the poison itself, being merely loosely slipped into a notch and then cemented to the shaft with the poison. In this case it acts as a barb, and remains in the wound when the arrow is withdrawn.

In our climate the poison becomes hard, and is exceedingly brittle, cracking in various directions, and being easily pulverized by being rubbed between the fingers. But in the comparatively hot temperature of Southern Africa it retains its soft tenacity, and even in this country it can be softened before a fire and the cracked portions mended. It is very bitter, and somewhat aromatic in taste, and in this respect much resembles the dreaded wourali poison of tropical Guiana. In some places the poison bulb is common, and in its prime it is very conspicuous, being recognized at a considerable distance by the blue undulated leaves which rise, as it were, out of the ground, and spread like a fan. Soon, however, the leaves fall off and dry up, and nothing is seen but a short, dry stalk, which gives little promise of the bulb below.

In some parts of the Bosjesmans’ country, the juice of amaryllis is used for poisoning arrows, like that of euphorbia, and is then mixed with the venom extracted from a large black spider, as well as that which is obtained from serpents. An antidote for this mixed poison is not at present known to white men, and whether the Bosjesmans are acquainted with one is at present unknown. It would be a great boon, not only to science, but to the inhabitants of that part of Africa, if a remedy could be discovered, inasmuch as such a discovery would at once deprive the Bosjesman of the only means whereby he can render himself terrible to those who live in his neighborhood. Property would then be rendered comparatively safe, and the present chronic state of irregular warfare would be exchanged for peace and quiet. The twofold nature of the poison, however, renders such a discovery a matter of exceeding difficulty, as the antidote must be equally able to counteract the vegetable poison as well as the animal venom.

Terrible as is this mixed poison, the Bosjesman has another which is far more cruel in its effects. If a human being is wounded with an arrow armed with this poison, he suffers the most intolerable agony, and soon dies. Even if a small portion of this poison should touch a scratch in the skin, the result is scarcely less dreadful, and, in Livingstone’s graphic words, the sufferer “cuts himself, calls for his mother’s breast, as if he were returned in idea to his childhood again, or flies from human habitations a raging maniac.” The lion suffers in much the same way, raging through the woods, and biting the trees and the ground in the extremity of his pain. The poison which produces such terrible effects is simply the juice which exudes from a certain grub, called the N’gwa, or K’aa—the former title being used by Dr. Livingstone, and the latter by Mr. Baines, who has given great attention to this dread insect. His account of the insect is as follows:—

There is a tree called the Maruru papeerie, which is about the size of an ordinary elm, but which has its stems and branches covered with thorns. The wood of this tree is of very soft texture. Upon the Maruru papeerie are found the poison grubs, which are of a pale flesh-color, something like that of the silkworm, and about three quarters of an inch in length. One curious point in its habits is the singular covering with which it is invested. “We were much puzzled by a covering of green matter similar in color to the leaf it feeds on. At first we thought it was the first skin peeling off, as it lay in loose rolls parallel to the muscular rings of the body; it seemed gradually driven forward toward the head, where it formed a shield or hood, portions breaking off as it dried, and being replaced by fresh. At length we were enabled to decide that it must be the excrement of the creature, issuing not only in the usual manner, but from the pores that are scattered over nearly the whole of its body.

“When the grub attains a length of three quarters of an inch, this matter is more sparingly distributed, and is of a brownish color. In a short time the grub drops from the tree, and, burying itself about two feet below the surface, forms its cocoon of a thin shell of earth agglutinated round its body. Its entrails, or rather the whole internal juices, are, in all stages of its grubdom, of the most deadly nature, and, if brought in contact with a cut, or sore of any kind, cause the most excruciating agony.”

Through the kindness of Mr. Baines, who enriched my collection with some specimens of the N’gwa, I am enabled to present my readers with some figures of this dread insect. Fig. 1 shows the N’gwa, or K’aa, of its natural size. The specimen was dry, shrivelled, and hard, but a careful administration of moisture caused it to relax its stiffened segments, and the wrinkled skin to become plump as in life.

Fig. 1 shows the under surface of the grub, as it appears when lying on its back, and exhibits its six little legs, the dark head and thorax, and the row of spiracles, or breathing apertures, along the sides. Fig. 2 exhibits the same grub, as it appears when coiled up inside its cocoon, and serves also to show the flattened form of the N’gwa in this stage of existence.

Fig. 3 represents the cocoon itself. This domicile made of grains of dark brown earth or sand, agglutinated together, is wonderfully hard, strong, and compact, although its walls are exceedingly thin. When entire, it is so strong that it will bear rather rough handling without injury, but when it is broken, it tumbles into fragments almost at a touch. The specimens are represented of their natural size.

When the Bosjesman wishes to poison an arrow-head, he first examines his hands with the minutest care, so as to be certain that his skin is not broken even by a slight scratch. He then takes a grub between his fingers, and squeezes it so as to force out the whole contents of the abdomen, together with the juices of the body. These he places in little drops upon the arrow-point, arranging them at a tolerably regular distance from each other; and when this is done, the dreadful process is complete. It is no wonder that people who wield such weapons as these should be equally feared and hated by all around them. It is bad enough to be shot with arrows which, like those of the Macoushies, cause certain death, but the terrors of the poison are aggravated a hundred-fold when it causes fearful agony and absolute mania before death relieves the sufferer.

A question now naturally arises, namely, the existence of any antidote to this dreadful poison. Probably there is an antidote to every poison if it were but known, and it is likely, therefore, that there is one for the N’gwa. The Kaffirs say that the only antidote is fat. They have a theory that the N’gwa requires fat, and that it consumes the life of the wounded beings in its attempts to find fat. Consequently, when a person is wounded with a poisoned arrow, they saturate the wound with liquid fat, and think that, if it can be applied in time, and in sufficient quantities, it satisfies the N’gwa, and saves the man’s life.

The Bosjesmans themselves deny that there is any antidote, but this they might be expected to do, from their natural unwillingness to part with so valuable a secret. It is no light matter to possess a poison which keeps every enemy in terror, as well it may, when we consider its effects. Dr. Livingstone mentions that the efficiency of this poison is so great that it is used against the lion. After watching the lion make a full meal, two Bosjesman hunters creep up to the spot where the animal is reposing, according to his custom, and approach so silently that not even a cracked stick announces the presence of an enemy. One of them takes off his kaross, and holds it with both hands, while the other prepares his weapons. When all is ready, a poisoned arrow is sent into the lion’s body, and, simultaneously with the twang of the bowstring, the kaross is flung over the animal’s head, so as to bewilder him when he is so unceremoniously aroused, and to give the bold hunters time to conceal themselves. The lion shakes off the blinding cloak, and bounds off in terror, which soon gives way to pain, and in a short time dies in convulsive agonies.

When the N’gwa is used for poisoning arrows, no other substance is used, and in consequence the head of the weapon presents a much neater appearance than when it is armed with the pitch-like euphorbia or serpent poison. This substance being of so terrible a character, its possessors would naturally be anxious to discover some antidote which they might use in case of being accidentally wounded, and to give foreigners the idea that no antidote existed. Consequently Mr. Baines and his companions found that they persistently denied that they knew of any antidote, but when they mentioned the very name of the plant which they had heard was used by them for that purpose, the Bosjesmans yielded the point, said that white men knew everything, and that it was useless to conceal their knowledge.

The antidote is called by the name of Kàla haètlwe, and is chiefly made from 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 two inches and a half in length, and only a quarter of an inch 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 title, and are used for the same purpose. One of them has a broader leaf and a larger flower, and tastes something like sorrel, while the third has a waved or wrinkled leaf. When the Kàla haètlwe is used, the root or bulb is chewed and laid on the wound, and is followed by the application of plenty of fat. I may here mention that the word “kàla” signifies “friend,” and is therefore very appropriate to the plant.

This is not the only use which they make of poisons. If they are retreating over a district which they do not intend to visit for some time, they have an abominable custom of poisoning every water-hole in their track. Sometimes they select one fountain, and mix its waters with poison for the purpose of destroying game. The substance that is used for poisoning water is generally of a vegetable nature. The bulb of the poison-root (Amaryllis toxicaria) is much employed, and so is the juice of the euphorbia. Mr. Moffatt nearly fell a victim to this custom. After a long and tedious ride under the hot sunbeams, he approached a Bosjesman village, near which his horse discovered a small pool of water surrounded with bushes. Pushing his way through them, Mr. Moffatt lay down and took a long draught at the water, not having understood that the surrounding bushes were in fact a fence used to warn human beings from the water. As soon as he had drunk, he perceived an unusual taste, and then found that the water had been poisoned. The effects of the poison were rather irritable, though not so painful as might have been imagined. “I began to feel a violent turmoil within, and a fulness of the system, as if the arteries would burst, while the pulsation was exceedingly quick, being accompanied by a slight giddiness in the head.” Fortunately, a profuse perspiration came on, and he recovered, though the strange sensations lasted for several days.

To the honor of the Bosjesmans, it must be said that they displayed the greatest solicitude on this occasion. One of them came running out of the village, just after the water had been drunk, and, not knowing that the mischief had already been done, tried to show by gestures that the water must not be drunk. They then ran about in all directions, seeking for a remedy; and when they found that the result would not be fatal, they showed extravagant joy. The escape was a very narrow one, as a zebra had died on the previous day from drinking at the same fountain.

This anecdote, when taken in conjunction with Dr. Lichtenstein’s narrative, shows that this despised race of people are not, as some seem to think, devoid of all human affections, and thereby degraded below the level of the brute beasts. Subjected, as they are, to oppression on every side, and equally persecuted by the Hottentots, the Kaffirs, and the white colonists, it is not to be supposed that they could be remarkable for the benevolence of their disposition, or their kindly feelings toward the hostile people with whom they are surrounded: and, whenever they find an opportunity for retaliation, it is but natural that they should take advantage of it.

Small, few, and weak, they would have been long ago exterminated but for their one weapon, the poisoned arrow, and, through its possession, they have exacted from their many foes the same feeling of respectful abhorrence which we entertain toward a hornet or a viper. All hate and dread the Bosjesman, but no one dares to despise him. However powerful may be a tribe of Kaffirs or Hottentots, or however carefully an European settlement may be protected, a single Bosjesman will keep them in constant alarm. Sentries are almost useless when a Bosjesman chooses to make a nocturnal attack, for he can crawl unseen within a few yards of the sentinel, lodge a poisoned arrow in his body, and vanish as imperceptibly as he arrived. As to finding the retreat in which he hides himself by day, it is almost impossible, even to a Hottentot, for the Bosjesman is marvellously skilful in obliterating tracks, and making a false spoor, and has besides the art of packing his tiny body into so small a compass, that he can lie at his ease in a hole which seems hardly large enough to accommodate an ordinary rabbit.

Yet, though he is hunted and persecuted like the hornet and the viper, and, like those creatures, can use his venomed weapon when provoked, it is evident that he is not incapable of gratitude, and that he can act in a friendly manner toward those who treat him kindly. Vindictive he can be when he thinks himself offended, and he can wreak a most cruel vengeance on those who have incurred his wrath. But that he is not destitute of the better feelings of humanity is evident from the above-mentioned accounts, and we ought to feel grateful to the writer for giving, on undoubted authority, a better character to the Bosjesman than he was thought to have deserved.

The shape of the arrows, together with the want of feathers, and the feeble nature of the bow, implies that they are not intended for long ranges. The Bosjesman is, indeed, a very poor marksman, and does not care to shoot at an object that is more than thirty or forty yards from him, preferring a distance of eight or ten yards, if he can manage to creep so near. In order to test the Bosjesman’s marksmanship, Mr. Burchel hung on a pole an antelope skin kaross, nearly seven feet square. One of the men took his bow and arrows, crept toward it until he was within twenty yards, and missed it with his first arrow, though he struck it with the second.

The quiver, which seems to be a necessary accompaniment to the bow and arrow in all nations which use these weapons, is sometimes made of wood, and sometimes of leather. The example which is shown on page 247 is of the latter material, and is drawn from a specimen in my own collection. It is made very strongly, and is an admirable example of Bosjesman workmanship. The hide of which it is made is that of some large animal, such as the ox or the eland, but as the hair has been carefully removed, no clue is left as to the precise animal which furnished the skin. The wooden quivers are almost invariably made from one of the aloes (Aloe dichotoma), which has therefore received from the Dutch colonists the name of “Kokerboom,” or quiver-tree. Occasionally, however, they are made from the karree tree, a species of Rhus, which grows on the banks of rivers, and in habits and appearance much resembles the English willow.

The Bosjesman has a very ingenious method of carrying his weapons when upon a journey, the bow, quiver, and knob-kerrie being tied together, and the whole group slung over the back. A perfectly equipped Bosjesman, however, has a kind of skin case, in which he places his weapons. Sometimes it is merely a leathern bag, but in its best form it is composed of an entire antelope skin, the body of which forms the case, and the legs acting as straps by which it can be hung on the back.

The bow is extremely small and simple, inasmuch as the Bosjesman cares little about its strength, because he never shoots at objects at more than a few yards’ distance. It is mostly made of a species of Tarchonanthus, but the Bosjesman is not particular about its material, so that it be tolerably elastic. Neither is he fastidious about its size, which is seldom more than four feet in length, and often less; nor about its shape, for the curve is often extremely irregular, the thickest portion of the bow not having been kept in the centre. Any little boy can make, with a stick and a string, a bow quite as good as that which is used by the Bosjesman. In using it, the Bosjesman does not hold it vertically, after the manner of the ordinary long-bow, but horizontally, as if it were a cross-bow—a fact which explains the extremely indifferent aim which can be taken with it.

The Bosjesman generally carries an assagai, but it is not of his own manufacture, as he is quite ignorant of the blacksmith’s art. Even the little triangular tips which are placed on the arrow-heads are hammered with infinite labor, the iron being laid cold on one stone, and beaten perseveringly with another, until it is at last flattened. Of softening it by heat the Bosjesman knows nothing, nor does he possess even the rude instruments which are necessary for heating the iron to the softening point. The assagai is usually the work of the Bechuanas, and is purchased from them by the Bosjesman. Now and then, an ordinary Kaffir’s assagai is seen in the hand of the Bosjesman, and in this case it is generally part of the spoils of war, the original owner having been killed by a poisoned arrow. From the same source also is derived the knife which the Bosjesman usually wears hanging by a thong round his neck, the instrument being almost invariably of Bechuana manufacture.

The Bosjesman, indeed, makes nothing with his own hands which is not absolutely necessary to him. The assagai and the knife are rather luxuries than necessaries, and are obtained from strangers. The bow and poisoned arrow, however, with which he fights human enemies, or destroys the larger animals, are absolutely necessary to him, and so is the knob-kerrie, with which he obtains the smaller animals and birds. He also beats his wife with it, and perhaps considers it a necessary article of property on that score also. These, therefore, every Bosjesman can make for himself, and considers himself sufficiently equipped when he possesses them.