Chapter IV: Part 4

Suddenly the appalling and murderous voice of an angry blood-thirsty lion burst upon my ears within a few yards of us, followed by the shrieking of the Hottentots. Again and again the murderous roar of attack was repeated. We heard John and Ruyter shriek, "The lion, the lion!" still, for a few moments, we thought he was chasing one of the dogs round the kraal; but, the next instant, John Stofolus rushed into the midst of us, almost speechless with fear and terror, his eyes bursting from their sockets, and shrieked out, "The lion, the lion! He has got Hendrick; he dragged him away from the fire beside me. I struck him with the burning brands upon his head, but he would not let go his hold. Hendrick is dead! Oh, God! Hendrick is dead! Let us take fire and seek him!"

The rest of my people rushed about shrieking and yelling as if they were mad. I was at once angry with them for their folly, and told them if they did not stand still and keep quiet the lion would have another of us; and that very likely there was a troop of them. I ordered the dogs, which were nearly all fast, to be made loose, and the fire to be increased as far as could be. I then shouted Hendrick's name, but all was still. I told my men that Hendrick was dead, and that a regiment of soldiers could not now help him, and, hunting my dogs forward, I had every thing brought within the cattle-kraal, when we lighted our fire and closed the entrance as well as we could. My terrified people sat round the fire with guns in their hand till the day broke, still fancying that every moment the lion would return and spring again into the midst of us.

When the dogs were first let go, the stupid brutes, as dogs often prove when most required, instead of going at the lion, rushed fiercely on one another, and fought desperately for some minutes. After this, they got his wind, and going at him, disclosed to us his position; they kept up a continual barking until the day dawned, the lion occasionally springing after them and driving them in upon the kraal. The horrible monster lay all night within forty yards of us, consuming the wretched man whom he had chosen for his prey. He had dragged him into a little hollow at the back of a thick bush, beside which the fire was kindled, and there he remained till the day dawned, careless of our proximity.

It appeared that when the unfortunate Hendrick rose to drive in the ox, the lion had watched him to his fireside, and he had scarcely lain down when the brute sprang upon him and Ruyter, for both lay under one blanket, with his appalling murderous roar, and, roaring as he lay, grappled him with his fearful claws, and kept biting him on his breast and shoulder, all the while feeling for his neck; having got hold of which, he dragged him away backwards round the bush into the dense shade.

As the lion lay upon the unfortunate man he faintly cried, "Help me, help me! Oh, God! men, help me!" After which the fearful beast got a hold of his neck, and then all was still, except that his comrades heard the bones of his neck cracking between the teeth of the lion. John Stofolus had lain with his back to the fire on the opposite side, and on hearing the lion he sprang up, and, seizing a large flaming brand, he had belabored him on the head with the burning wood; but the brute did not take any notice of him. The Bushman had a narrow escape; he was not altogether scatheless, the lion having inflicted two gashes in his seat with his claws.

The next morning, just as the day began to dawn, we heard the lion dragging something up the river-side under cover of the bank. We drove the cattle out of the kraal, and then proceeded to inspect the scene of the night's awful tragedy. In the hollow, where the lion had lain consuming his prey, we found one leg of the unfortunate Hendrick, bitten off below the knee, the shoe still on his foot; the grass and bushes were all stained with his blood, and fragments of his pea-coat lay around.

Poor Hendrick! I knew the fragments of that old coat, and had often marked them hanging in the dense covers where the elephant had charged after my unfortunate after-rider. Hendrick was by far the best man I had about my wagons, of a most cheerful disposition, first-rate wagon driver, fearless in the field, ever active, willing, and obliging: his loss to us all was very serious. I felt confounded and utterly sick in my heart; I could not remain at the wagons, so I resolved to go after elephants to divert my mind. I had this morning heard them breaking the trees on the opposite side of the river. I accordingly told the natives of the village my intentions; and having ordered my people to devote the day to fortifying the kraal, I started with Piet and Ruyter as my after-riders.

It was a very cold day. We crossed the river, and at once took up the fresh spoor of a troop of bull elephants. These bulls unfortunately joined a troop of cows, and the bulls were off in a moment, before we could even see them. One remarkably fine old cow charged the dogs. I hunted this cow and finished her with two shots from the saddle. Being anxious to return to my people before night, I did not attempt to follow the troop.

My followers were not a little gratified to see me returning, for terror had taken hold of their minds, and they expected that the lion would return, and, emboldened by the success of the preceding night, would prove still more daring in his attack. The lion would most certainly have returned, but fate had otherwise ordained. My health had been better in the last three days: my fever was leaving me, but I was, of course, still very weak. It would still be two hours before the sun would set, and feeling refreshed by a little rest, and able for further work, I ordered the steeds to be saddled, and went in search of the lion.

I took John and Carey as after-riders, armed, and a party of the natives followed up the spoor and led the dogs. The lion had dragged the remains of poor Hendrick along a native footpath that led up the river's side. We found fragments of his coat all along the spoor, and at last the mangled coat itself. About six hundred yards from our camp a dry river's course joined the Limpopo. At this spot was much cover, and heaps of dry reeds and trees deposited by the Limpopo in some great flood. The lion had left the footpath and entered this secluded spot. I at once felt convinced that we were upon him, and ordered the natives to make loose the dogs. These walked suspiciously forward on the spoor, and next minute began to spring about, barking angrily, with all their hair bristling on their backs: a crash upon the dry reeds immediately followed--it was the lion bounding away.

Several of the dogs were extremely afraid of him, and kept rushing continually backwards springing aloft to obtain a view. I now pressed forward and urged them on; old Argyll and Bles took up his spoor in gallant style and led on the other dogs. Then commenced a short but lively and glorious chase, whose conclusion was the only small satisfaction that I could obtain to answer for the horrors of the preceding evening. The lion held up the river's bank for a short distance and took away through some wait-a-bit thorn cover, the best he could find, but nevertheless open. Here, in two minutes, the dogs were up with him, and he turned and stood at bay. As I approached, he stood, his horrid head right to me, with open jaws growling fiercely, his tail waving from side to side.

On beholding him my blood boiled with rage. I wished that I could take him alive and torture him, and setting my teeth, I dashed my steed forward within thirty yards of him and shouted, "Your time is up, old fellow." I halted my horse, and, placing my rifle to my shoulder, I waited for a broadside. This, the next moment, he exposed, when I sent a bullet through his shoulder and dropped him on the spot. He rose, however, again, when I finished him with a second in the breast. The Bakalahari now came up with wonder and delight. I ordered John to cut off his head and forepaws and bring them to the wagons, and mounting my horse I galloped home, having been absent about fifteen minutes. When the Bakalahari women heard that the man-eater was dead, they all commenced dancing about with joy, calling me _their father_.

Thrilling Adventures of Mr. Butler.

The early history of Kentucky is one continued series of daring and romantic adventures. Had the founder of that state lived in the days of chivalric yore, his exploits would have been sung in connection with those of Arthur and Orlando; and his followers, in the same region, would certainly have been knights of the Round Table.

The hero of our story was one of these. Those who desire to inspect his adventure, by the light of romance, will not be displeased at learning that his choice of a hunter's life was determined by a disappointment in the object of his early love.

He was then only nineteen, yet he fearlessly left his native state, and sought, amid the uncultivated wilds of Kentucky, the stirring enjoyment of a western hunter. After rendering valuable service to the Virginia colony, as a spy and pioneer, he undertook a voyage of discovery to the country north of the Ohio. It was while thus engaged that he was taken prisoner by the Indians.

He was, no doubt, known to the Indians as an active and dangerous enemy; and they now prepared to avenge themselves upon him. They condemned him to the fiery torture, painted his body black, and marched him toward Chilicothe. By way of amusement on the road, he was manacled hand and foot, tied to an unbridled and unbroken horse, and driven off amid the shouts and whoops of the savages; poor Butler thus played the part of an American Mazeppa. The horse, unable to shake him off galloped with terrific speed toward the wood, jarring and bruising the rider at every step; but at length, exhausted and subdued, it returned to camp with its burden, amid the exulting shouts of the savages. When within a mile of Chilicothe, they took Butler from the horse, and tied him to a stake, where, for twenty-four hours, he remained in one position. He was then untied to run the gauntlet. Six hundred Indians, men, women, and children, armed with clubs and switches, arranged themselves in two parallel lines, to strike him as he passed. It was a mile to the council-house, which if he reached, he was to be spared. A blow started him on this encouraging race; but he soon broke through the files and had almost reached the council-house, when he was brought to the ground by a club. In this position he was severely beaten and again taken into custody.

These terrible sufferings, instead of satisfying the Indians, only stimulated them to invent more ingenious tortures. Their cruelty was not more astonishing than the fortitude of the victim. He ran the gauntlet thirteen times; he was exposed to insult, privation, and injury of every kind: sometimes he was tied, sometimes beaten. At others, he was pinched, dragged on the ground, or deprived for long periods of sleep. Then, amid jeers and yells, he was marched from village to village, so that all might be entertained with his sufferings. Yet, amid each torture, he never failed to improve an opportunity favorable for escaping, and in one instance would have effected it, but for some Indians whom he accidentally met returning to the village. Finally it was resolved to burn him at Lower Sandusky. The procession, bearing the victim to the stake, passed by the cabin of Simon Girty, whose name is a counterpart to that of Brandt, in the annals of Pennsylvania. This man had just returned from an unsuccessful expedition to the frontier of that state, burning, of course, with disappointment, and a thirst for revenge. Hearing that a white prisoner was being carried to the torture, he rushed out, threw Butler down, and began to beat him.

The reader will not be apt to imagine that this was in any way favorable to Butler's escape; yet it was so. He instantly recognised in the fierce assailant a companion of early days, and as such made himself known. The heart of the savage relented. He raised up his old friend, promised to use his influence for him, summoned a council, and persuaded the Indians to resign Butler to him. Taking the unfortunate man home, he fed and nursed him until he began to recover. But five days had scarcely expired, when the Indians relented, seizing their victim, and marched him to be burned at Lower Sandusky. By a surprising coincidence, he here met the Indian agent from Detroit, who interceded and saved him. He was taken to that town, paroled by the governor, and subsequently escaped through the woods to Kentucky.

Robert and Samuel M'Afee.

Early in May, 1781, M'Afee's station, in the neighborhood of Harrodsburg, Kentucky, was alarmed by the approach of Indians. On the morning of the 9th, Samuel M'Afee, accompanied by another man, left the fort in order to visit a small plantation in the neighborhood, and at the distance of three hundred yards from the gate, they were fired upon by a party of Indians in ambush. The man who, accompanied him instantly fell. An Indian rushed up, dropped his rifle, scalped the man, and holding up the bleeding trophy, gave a yell of delight.

M'Afee attempted to regain the fort. While running for that purpose, he found himself suddenly intercepted by an Indian, who, springing out of the canebrake, placed himself directly in his path. Each glared upon the other for an instant, in silence, and both raising their guns at the moment, pulled the triggers together. The Indian's rifle snapped, while M'Afee's ball passed directly through his brain. Having no time to reload his gun, he sprung over the body of his antagonist, and continued his flight to the fort. When within one hundred yards of the gate, he was met by his two brothers, Robert and James, who at the report of the guns, had hurried out to the assistance of their brother. Samuel hastily informed them of their danger, and exhorted them to return. James readily complied, but Robert, declared that he must have a view of the dead Indian. He ran on for that purpose, and having enjoyed the spectacle, was returning, when he saw five or six Indians between him and the fort, evidently bent on taking him alive. All his activity and presence of mind was put in request. He ran from tree to tree, endeavoring to turn their flank, and reach one of the gates, and after a variety of turns and doublings, he found himself pressed by only one Indian. M'Afee turned upon his pursuer, and compelled him to take shelter behind a tree. Both stood still for a moment--M'Afee having his gun cocked, and the sight fixed where he supposed the Indian would thrust out his head in order to have a view of his antagonist. After waiting a few seconds, the Indian exposed a part of his head to take sight, when M'Afee fired, and the Indian fell. While turning, to continue the flight, he was fired on by a party of six, which compelled him again to tree. But scarcely had he done so, when he received the fire of three more enemies which made the bark and dust fly about him. Finding his post dangerous, he ran for the fort, which he reached in safety, to the inexpressible joy of his brothers, who had despaired of his return.

A few days' Sport in Chinese Tartary.

Much may have been said, but little has been written, of the yet but very partially explored part of the world between China and the Himayla chain. Moorcroft and Gerard, some thirty years ago, visited some parts bordering on the extreme north-west of the British possessions in India. Fraser, a few years later, penetrated probably those parts of it adjoining the central hill sanatoriums of Simla and Almorah, and he, like his predecessors, was stopped by the jealous government and its inhabitants. Previous to entering Chinese Tartary from British India, the traveller has to cross certain of the passes in the great snowy range, some of them varying in height from sixteen to eighteen thousand feet above the level of the sea.

The Barinda, one of the most frequented and best known of these passes, is variously estimated at from seventeen to eighteen thousand feet. The months of June, July, and August are generally considered the best months for crossing.

The scenery in and around these passes is of the most sublime description. As I should assuredly fail, however, in describing it, I must content myself with a narration of some personal adventures which befel me in an attempt to carry into effect a long cherished determination to make the acquaintance of the seeta bhaloo (white bear) and the burul, (white sheep,) found only in these regions. By the route I took, seventeen marches brought me to the snow. Here our "roughing" commenced, the Peharrees, or hill men, of our side of the snow, having a most religious horror of the great snowy range. The air there they declare is charged with "bis" (poison,) and this is the only way they can in their original way account for the painful and distressing effects which the rarefied air in those elevations produces on the human frame. The first intimation we have that we are far above the altitude of comfort, is a dull, heavy pain on the shoulders, as if you were carrying a load above your capacity; then a very painful sensation on the forehead, as if it had been bandaged unpleasantly tight, accompanied by a burning sensation of the eyes and nose, followed by an involuntary bleeding of the latter.

This last symptom of the effects of high rarefaction, is, to an Englishman, at least it was to us, always a great relief. It operates differently upon the natives; they become only more alarmed and helpless, and, unless hurried through the passes very expeditiously, invariably perish. On my first trip, I left two unfortunate hill men in the Sogla Pass. Two more would have perished, had not I taken one wheelbarrow fashion, by the legs, and dragged him after me, although very much distressed myself, until we had descended sufficiently to rest with safety. My head man, Jye Sing, by my direction, took the other man, and both were saved.

After getting through the pass, we came upon the inhabited tracks, and made the acquaintance of the Bhootias. I found them very original, very dirty, and very honest with regard to every thing except tobacco. This, neither father nor mother, husband or wife, could help stealing, whenever they had the opportunity; and the most amusing part of it was, they never attempted to deny the theft, but stoutly maintained their right to the article! Numerous were the thrashings inflicted by Buctoo on them for tobacco thieving, but the thefts did not diminish.

As my object in coming into these dreary fastnesses was to get on terms of familiarity with the quadrupedal rather than the bipedal inhabitants, I will leave the Bhootias, and proceed to describe my rencontres with the equally civilized four-footed denizens. I had in my employ Shikarees (gameseekers) of no ordinary class, who, having been many years with me, were well tutored; although, when first caught, they were ignorance personified as far as sporting matters went. Their original incapacity will be easily credited, when I inform them that my second best man, Buctoo, had followed the sporting occupation of a village fiddler, before he entered my service, and knew as much of the capabilities of an English rifle as he did of the "Pleiades." Jye Sing was a little better informed, for he told me confidentially, one day, he had seen a gentleman at Subathoo actually kill quail flying with small shot. His occupation had been that of findal, or porter, to some families at Simla. Two months' training turned him out, not only one of the most intelligent, but pluckiest Shikaree I ever had.

Having, in my numerous excursions into the hills, obtained some very vague information from the many villagers I came in contact with, that they had often heard from parties residing near the snow that there was an animal to be found there strongly resembling the famous sheep, (_Ovid Burul_,) I determined upon despatching Jye Sing and Buctoo to those regions, to obtain all the precise information that might be available, cautioning them not to return without either having seen the animal, or bringing me some proof of its existence, and further promising them a handsome present, if they brought me satisfactory information. They were absent two months, and returned with some most marvellous stories about what they had seen and heard, and, as a proof of the existence of the animal, brought me the horn of a wild sheep they had picked up in one of the valleys in the snow, after an avalanche had melted. This physical fragment at once removed all my doubts, the horn being different from that of any tame sheep. I was now wound up to the highest pitch of excitement; my marching establishment was soon put in order, and we started on the following day. Fifteen forced marches brought me to the foot of the snow, and also to the last village, called "Ufsul." I found the inhabitants of this village a most rude and demi-barbarous race, knowing little, and wishing to know less, of Englishmen, of whom they seemed to have the greatest dread. However, two days' soft sawdering with a plentiful supply of hill "buckshee," (spirits,) made them more communicative; and they at last informed me, if I would promise only to remain a week, they would show me the wild sheep. This promise, of course, I gave; and on the following morning at daybreak, (shivering cold it was,) we started to ascend the snow-capped mountains and glaciers, which the animal patronized. On the road up I was sorely tempted to draw my ball and ram down shot, in order to bring down some of the many woodcocks we were constantly flushing, and which were so unaccustomed to be disturbed, that they only flew a few yards away; but I resisted the temptation.

As we progressed in the region of eternal snow, we began to find pedestrianism a difficult task. Some parts of the path were very slippery and hard; others, soft and knee-deep in snow. An idea may be formed of the height we had to ascend, and the nature of the ground which we traversed, when I mention that we left our tents at seven o'clock in the morning, and had not arrived at the "sheep-walk" before one.

Now commenced the difficulty. The burrul, from its well-known and secluded habits, is a most difficult animal to approach. I was at last, however, rewarded for my labor. About two o'clock we came upon the fresh marks of the flock; we followed them for some distance, but coming near a hot spring where they had evidently been grazing, lost of course all farther track. For the next hour I worked on one glacier, around another, used my telescope, but could not discern any object. Suddenly one of the villagers called my attention to something above me. I looked up and beheld a pair of enormous horns bending over. None of the body of the animal was then visible. I now cautiously moved a short distance to the right, when I had the satisfaction of seeing not only his horns, but a full broadside view of the first wild sheep I ever saw. He was about one hundred and fifty yards off. Having elevated the proper sight, I brought my rifle to bear on the shoulder, took a steady and gradual draw of the trigger, the rifle cracked, and dead came down the burrul of Thibet.

Perhaps, up to this time, the burrul had known no other mortal foe than the white, or whitey-brown bear of the hills--the seeta bhaloo, as he is called. And this brings me to another part of my sporting excursion.

Whether from the scarcity of food, or the amiability of their dispositions, the seeta bhaloo are to be met with constantly in small bodies of from five to ten, differing in this respect from their sable brethren, who are generally found alone, unless a matrimonial alliance has been formed, when the intrusion of a third party, whether male or female, ensures a fight.

The white bear is only carnivorous when pressed by hunger, and in that state is very destructive to the numerous Tartar flocks of sheep, for Bruin, with an empty larder is not to be deterred from his ravenous attacks by men or dogs--a haunch of mutton he will have. His mode of devouring it differs greatly from that of the tiger or leopard. He tears the fleece off with his paws, and instead of gnawing and tearing the flesh, as most carnivorous animals do, he commences sucking it, and in this way draws off the flesh in shreds, thus occupying four or five hours in doing what a tiger or leopard would effectually achieve in half an hour. It is well known among the Tartars, (and I know it also from experience,) that a bear, after feasting off flesh, is a very dangerous customer, and will always show fight. If near the carcass he has captured, he will give very little trouble in looking for him, indeed, he will almost invariably attack the intruder.

One day while following up some wild sheep, I came upon two bears very busily engaged in digging up the snow where an avalanche had fallen. Being hid from their sight, I determined to wait some little time to ascertain why they were digging. I accordingly placed myself behind a rock, and allowed them to work away. In about an hour they had made a very good opening; and on using my glass I found they had got hold of something. I now pushed up to them. One immediately showed fight, and came out to meet me. He made one charge at me, which I received with a rifle ball, killing him the very first shot. The other bear got away. On going up to the spot where they had been at work, I found the exhumed bodies of three wild sheep. They had been carried away and buried underneath the avalanche, probably as far back as the previous year, considering the very compact and frozen state the snow was in. The sheep were in excellent order. We skinned them, and took them to our tents, and excellent mutton we all had for several days.

On the melting of the snows, the golden eagle of the Himalaya--a magnificent bird, often measuring thirteen feet from the tip of one wing to the other--is one of the best of pointers a sportsman can follow, to ascertain where any animal has been carried away in an avalanche. He hovers over the spot, constantly alighting, and then taking wing again; but if once you observe him pecking with his beak you may proceed to the spot, and be certain of finding, a very short distance below the snow, the carcass of a wild sheep, as fresh as it was on the day on which it was carried away. Many a haunch of good mutton have I obtained in this way.

The Himalayan golden eagle is a very carrion crow, never destroying its own game, and feeding on any dead carcass it may find.

Many an eagle have I shot feeding on the carcass of an unfortunate hill bullock, which, either through stupidity or fright, had tumbled over a precipice; and never, during the many years I shot over all parts of these hills, do I remember seeing a golden eagle pounce on or carry away a living prey.

The Tartar shepherds near the snow informed me that during the lambing season the eagles were very troublesome. If a ewe dropped a sickly lamb, and left it, the eagle would attack it, but never attempted to stoop to carry away a live one, or one that followed its mother. The Indian golden eagle is identical with the Lammergeyer of the Alps, but wants the courage of the latter bird.

A companion and myself had been working hard in the "Sogla," one of the passes in the snowy range conducting into Chinese Tartary, after the wild sheep, and found them this day wilder and more wary than on any previous occasion. It is not generally known that there are two species of wild sheep--one called the dairuk, and the other (an enormous animal, at least as far as its horns are concerned) known to naturalists as the _ovis ammon_. The horns and head of the latter are as much as a hill man can lift, and singular enough the body is small indeed, out of all proportion to the horns borne by a full-grown ram. My companion and self espied on an opposite hill what we at first (through our telescopes) thought was an enormous pair of horns moving without any ostensible carriage. At last we observed the body, and I, in delight, exclaimed, "By Jove, there is the ovis ammon at last."

After considerable trouble and precious hard work, we worked up to within the range, when a shot from my rifle brought the ram tumbling down over the snow. I hoped and believed he was dead, but he was only wounded. He got up again, and, in spite of the wound, made a very good gallop over the deep snow. Finding he was too fast for us, we slipped our dogs, and among them my poor "Karchia." The poor dog, as usual, was first up with the ram, and seized him. The ram, having still a good deal in him, broke the hold, and down he went to the bottom of the ravine, where ran the Tonse river, a tributary of the Jumna here in the snow.

The river was covered over in many places by avalanches, and was also partly frozen; but in many places there were large holes. The ram bounded over these until my poor dog Karchia again closed with and seized him behind. With a vigorous effort the ovis ammon shook him off. A few yards before the steep was a large hole in the Tonse, the water foaming up through it; into this ovis ammon threw himself, and was carried under the snow. Heaven knows where. On arriving at the spot I found my dog baying most piteously, and trying to bite away the frozen sides, but to no purpose, and I was obliged immediately to get him chained up, fearing he would have plunged in after the game, when I should have lost him, and most probably my own life. Having thus introduced the wild sheep and white bear of Tartary, a few sentences may not unprofitably be spent in describing the genus homo of the Snowy Range. The Tartars, as may be imagined, are a very original race, and in those parts visited by me I found them very primitive and intensive, always barring the petty larceny propensities. Depending principally on the sale of their wool for their support, and being Bhuddhists by religion, they dared not destroy animal life; but when nature had deprived one of their bullocks or sheep of existence, either by accident or old age, economy forbids their wasting the carcass, and it is eagerly devoured by them. Some of the ancient rams I saw would require a considerable deal of mastication and powerful digestive organs when summoned to their forefathers and committed to a Tartar's jaws.

I cannot say that the hill people thrive on the diet, for in appearance they are a miserable-looking, stunted race, very filthy in their habits, seldom changing their coarse woollen clothing, and entertaining a religious horror of cold water.

They have no objection to the good things brought from our side of the snow, and I have seen them devour salt beef and pork with great gusto. But what they must delight in, when they can get it, is English brandy and tobacco. The former they will drink in great quantities, and for men unaccustomed to liquor it is astonishing how well they resist its intoxicating properties. I saw one man, a "Siana," the head of a village, drink off two bottles of pure brandy without apparently feeling any ill effects from the potation. On questioning him about his sensations, he said that the only difference he found between the brandy and water was, that it made his inside comfortably warm, and his tongue very slippery, of which he gave us proof by chattering and singing in a most uncouth way. Of all the horrible noises I ever heard, those which a half-drunken Tartar makes are the most discordant. The deep nasal and guttural noises he emits would beat Welsh and Gaelic by a long chalk.

Although petty thefts are common among the Thibetans, valuable articles may with with safety be left among them--even money they will never touch. Many an hour have I whiled away among them watching Buctoo and Jye Sing showing them many articles of my property, the use or value of which they could not comprehend. Of my guns and rifles, in particular, they stood in great awe, and for a long time none of them could be induced to touch one. Our telescopes also caused great terror, and many were the learned arguments they had as to what possibly could be the use of the latter. I invariably carried a favorite "Dolland" across my shoulder, and Buctoo was provided with a similar instrument, of which he was very proud, and in the use of which he became very expert.

One day, after a good day's sport, we had all sat down near a beautiful spring, and I was enjoying a luncheon, when I found that Buctoo had collected some fifty Tartars about him, who sat in a circle, listening to his explanation of the use of his telescope. None of his hearers could for some time be induced to touch it; they were afraid of its either exploding or metamorphosing them into wild sheep. The large village Tehong Si was about four miles below our bivouac, and several of the head men had come up to have a look at us. The village was just discernible to the naked eye, and Buctoo politely inquired of one of the chiefs, if he would like to be informed what was going on in the village below? The chief told him he should, when Buctoo drew out the glass, on which all the Tartars moved off to a respectful distance.

After looking at the village, Buctoo persuaded them to come close to him once more, and duly informed them what he could see in the village, describing certain parts of it so correctly that they were astounded. (I must here mention that neither myself nor any of my servants had been allowed to enter the village.) The Tartars at first could hardly credit it; but after sundry questions as to the description of houses on the north side, and again on the southern, which Buctoo, on carefully examining, correctly described, they became sadly perplexed. Buctoo once more endeavored to persuade them to take a look themselves, and, after much coaxing and a little brandy, one of the head men was induced to take the telescope into his hand.

The figure he cut in doing so, I shall not easily forget. He held it out at arm's length, grinned at it most horribly, and chattered some abominable gibberish in Tartaree, that no one understood, appearing to expect every moment that the glass would bite him. After some minutes spent in this way, he drew it near him, and by degrees became more confident. Buctoo then approached him and set it, telling him how to look through it. He then appeared very suspicious about this movement, evidently fancying the glass was going to explode. At length he threw it down, for which Buctoo boxed his ears. He then took it up again, and it was brought to bear on the village. But the Tartar did us again; for he shut both eyes. However, after a good deal of persuasion, he was induced to open one and shut the other, and to peep through the glass. For a second or two he trembled violently, and then groaned heavily--threw down the glass, and commenced rolling down the hill, head over heels, at a most awful pace. The whole batch, some forty, were seized with the same complaint, and down they went after their chief, roaring out, "Hi! ha!" at the top of their voice. Break their necks they could not very easily; but how many of them escaped serious injury I did not stop to ascertain. Upon seeing them all off, I fell down heavily, fracturing my sides with laughter. Buctoo was in the same state, and so were all my servants. We at last saw them, on reaching a piece of level ground, get on their legs, the chief still leading, and bolting for the village, at a pace that nothing would warrant but a tin kettle at their heels.

In about ten minutes we heard the gongs and bells beating and tolling at a great pace, with frightful shouting from men and women, and this lasted for two hours, when all became quiet.

Not a Tartar could be got hold of for two days after this. At last, by sending a small party rather near the village, several men showed themselves, offering us any thing we wanted, if we would only return to our proper side of the snow. This they were told we would do, if they would only show us three or four more days' good sport; but if not we would remain there six months, and turn them all into wild sheep. Upon this they had a consultation, when it was decided that they would show us excellent comfort provided we promised to take our departure in four days, and never come there again. This was duly agreed to, and after some very cautious approaches we got them once more up to our tents. They certainly got their promise, for I had excellent sport, and was therefore bound to fulfil my part of the agreement.

On the fourth day arriving, they were invited to come once more to the tent, and to receive a few trifling rewards for the sport they had shown. Brandy was first served out, and this soon restored confidence, when the distribution of a few knives, looking-glasses, beads, etc., etc., and sundry pieces of red cloth, brought them into good humor. Every thing was going on as well as could be desired, when some unfortunate dispute arose among some of my guides, (not my own servants, but men taken from the last village on our side of the snow,) and Tartars. They knew each other well, having, at a fair held at the foot of the pass, a year's intercourse. These men, I have no doubt, assisted by one of my own men, (and I strongly suspected Buctoo, although he most solemnly denied it,) played them a sad trick. I may here note that almost every Tartar carries a pipe, rudely made of wrought iron, of about the size and shape of the common clay pipe. Being inveterate smokers, a pipe full of good tobacco is one of the most convincing arguments you can employ. While I was at dinner, I ordered some tobacco to be given to them, and it was proposed they should put that in their pouches, and allow some of my men to charge their pipes with their own tobacco, of which they begged their acceptance.

The Tartars, nothing loth, assented, and each man gave his iron pipe to be charged, which was duly done and returned to each owner. Smoking then commenced, and on finishing my dinner and coming outside the tent, I found the Tartars all in a circle, smoking away, and my men, some ten yards from them, and above them, and talking to them. They were also smoking. Thinking nothing of this at the time, I took no notice, and had my chair brought outside, and smoked my segar. In less than five minutes I was considerably astonished on hearing a salvo as of a volley of musketry, and iron pipes flying up and down in all directions. Then a general shout, and off went the Tartars, as if Old Nick was at their heels, halloing most fearfully. They did not run far, but brought up about three hundred yards from where they started, and demanded their pipes back. I asked them what was the matter; when they said they would never smoke English tobacco again, for we smoked with tobacco, and shot with tobacco, and _Sheitzan_ must have been the manufacturer.

Kangaroo Hunting.

Kangarooing in Tasman's Peninsula is essentially a pedestrian sport. I am aware that in an open country, and especially in New South Wales, where the chase is followed on horseback, my assertion may seem like rank heresy.

I have pursued the sport both mounted and on foot, and if a horse enables you occasionally, on comparatively unincumbered ground, to see something more of the run, you must still have pedestrians to hunt the dogs. After all, decide this point as you will, we esteem it the poorest variety of the chase. Some excitement must necessarily attend it, but too much is left to the imagination, and too little of either the game or the dogs is given to the eye.

It is rarely, except when on horseback, that one has the good fortune to be in at the death, or to see the kangaroo pulled down.

The ground is usually hilly, the scrub thick, and the grass high. It is needless to say that on the present occasion we were all on foot. Forestier's Peninsula is no place for a horse, except the traveller be jogging along the rugged and little frequented track which leads to Hobart Town, by a most circuitous route.

Away then we strode, skirting the shore pretty closely, until we came to a valley which had been partially cleared by one of those extensive bush conflagrations which are of annual occurrence.

The forest is fired in several places every summer, with a view to keeping down the scrub, and giving a chance of growth to the grass and the larger forest trees. These burn for several consecutive days, and at night the glare from them, lighting up the adjacent horizon, and the wind at one time whirling along vast clouds of smoke, and again throwing up sheets of flame and myriads of burning particles, produce an effect as grand as can be imagined. Here, then, in the glade, we paused, disposed ourselves in an extended line, slipped four dogs, and gave the word, "go seek."

Away they trotted with nose to the ground, cautiously hunting, crossing and recrossing, but occasionally getting not only out of sight in the long grass, but out of hearing and command. Presently a sharp bark gave the signal of game started, and the next moment we catch a glimpse of the kangaroo in mid air, as he bounds down the declivity in a succession of leaps such as the kangaroos only can accomplish.

There he goes, his tiny ears laid back along his small deer-like head, his forefeet gathered up like a penguin's flappers, and his long stout tail erect in the air. Now bounding aloft, now vanishing as he leaps into the waving grass.

Two more of the dogs have sighted him, and are silently tearing along on his track. Every bound increases his distance from his pursuers, he winds round the base of the hill, to avoid the ascent, but up he must go; this is the only chance for the dogs, for running up hill is the kangaroo's weak point. But now we lose sight of both dogs and kangaroo; a burst of three minutes has sufficed to exhaust our first wind, and to break one of our shins; for tearing through grass as high as one's middle and stumbling over charred stumps and fallen trees, soon reduces one to the "dead beat" predicament. Jerry, alone, thanks to his hard condition, follows the chase.

All the party are now scattered, and after while reassemble by dint of continuous "cooees." Whilst swabbing the perspiration off our brow, one of the dogs makes his appearance, and, trotting slowly back with panting flanks and lolling tongue, throws himself on his side exhausted. His mouth is now carefully examined, and two fingers being inserted, scoop round the fauces. The test is successful; there are traces of blood and fluff. "Bravo! Rattler! Show him--good dog. Show him!" Rattler rises with an effort, and lazily strikes into the bush, to the right. We follow in Indian file, and at about half a mile distant we come upon the kangaroo lying dead, with the second dog, old "Ugly," stretched at its side.

The kangaroo usually found in the Peninsula is not the largest description commonly known in these colonies as the "boomer," or a "forester," but the brush kangaroo, which rarely exceeds seventy pounds in weight; forty is more common. There is a still smaller variety, known as the "wallaby." The brush kangaroo is easily killed by the dogs; a grip in the throat or loins usually suffices. The boomer is a more awkward customer, and, if he can take to the water, he shows fight, and availing himself of his superior height, he endeavors to drown the dogs as they approach him. The kangaroo is a graceful animal, but appears to most advantage when only the upper part of his body is seen. His head is small and deer-shaped, his eyes soft and lustrous, but his tapering superior extremities rise almost pyramidally from a heavy and disproportioned base of hind legs and tail.

The kangaroo dog never mangles his prey although fond of the blood, with a portion of which he is always rewarded.

Jerry now threw himself on the ground beside the game, and, drawing his _couteau de chasse_, commenced the operation of disemboweling. After ripping up the belly, he thrust in his arm, and drawing out the liver and a handful of coagulated blood, he invited the dogs to partake of it. The carcass being gutted, some dry fern is thrust in, the tail is drawn through the fore legs, and secured with a bit of whipcord, and then the game is suspended over the shoulder--no insignificant weight either. If the kangaroo be very heavy, the hind quarters only are carried, but the skin being of some value, it is not needlessly destroyed.

There is a peculiarity in the stomach of the kangaroo, which I have not seen noticed in descriptions of that animal, but of which I have assured myself by frequent personal observation. On opening the stomach, even while still warm, the grass found in it is swarming with small white worms, about a quarter of an inch in length, and not thicker than a fine thread.

The entire contents of the stomach, even the most recently masticated grass, and grass seems to be its only food, are equally pervaded with these worms, which swarm in myriads, even where no signs of decomposition are perceptible.

Resuming our progress, we presently heard a baying from the dogs, who had again dispersed to hunt. On nearing the spot whence the noise proceeded, we found them assembled round the trunk of a large tree, in the hollow of which was a large wombat, a most unsightly brute, in appearance partaking somewhat of the bear, the pig, and the badger. An average sized one weighs sixty pounds. The head is flat, neck thick, body large, legs short, eyes and ears small: the feet provided with sharp claws for burrowing, three on the hind foot, and an additional one on the fore foot. They make deep excavations in the ground, and live chiefly on roots. The hide is very tough and covered with a coarse wiry hair, and with this defensive armor, and his formidable teeth and claws, the wombat is a customer not much relished by the dogs. It was not till we had stunned our new acquaintance, as he stood at bay in his den, by repeated blows of our sticks on his head, that we were able to drag him out, and cut his throat.

The flesh is eatable, and I have heard that the hams are held in some esteem, but cannot speak from personal experience. On the present occasion none of our party was ambitious of the honor of carrying our defunct friend during the day's march that we had before us; so I contented myself with pocketing his four paws, and leaving the rest of the carcass for formic epicures.

Our destination for the evening was Eagle Hawk Neck, or rather our dining quarters were there fixed, for I proposed to be home some time during the night; and, as we had some twelve miles of fatiguing walking before us, we now circled round towards Flinders' Bay, whence we were to follow the foot track to the "Neck."

It may readily be imagined that bush travelling in the Australian colonies is often an intricate affair; long practice alone can give one assurance and confidence. Few _habitues_ in the Peninsula think of entering it without a pocket compass, flint, and steel, and even the best bushmen have in their day been reduced to the greatest extremities.

For our own part, our ambition never inclined to the adventurous task of exploring the bush, content with the subordinate part of trusting to the superior sagacity of the more experienced; and often have our wonder and admiration been excited by the unerring judgment of our guide, when there was neither sun to direct, nor any opening above or around whereby to obtain a view of the surrounding country.

As we were approaching Flinders' Bay on our return, a kangaroo was started some distance ahead of us; presently I observed an old dog, who was wont to "run cunning," suddenly stop close in front of me. The next moment the game, closely pursued, dropped in a bound, not six yards from where I stood, and before he could rise again, old "Ugly" had his prize by the throat. This proved to be a doe, and on examining her pouch a foetus was found in it, perfectly detached as usual, and about three inches and a half long. The generation, growth, and alimentation of the foetus of the kangaroo and other marsupial animals (ultra interine and detached from the parent, as it appears to be at all stages,) is a mystery in physiology which has yet to be unravelled.

A "medico" who was of our party, did not neglect this opportunity for research. With a view to the investigation of the subject at leisure, he dropped the foetus into his glove for conveyance home.

Outside the station of Flinders' Bay, we came upon a small limpid stream, brawling over a rocky bed, which seemed a suitable place to refresh the inner man with a sandwich, and a thimble full of Cognac. Segars were then lighted, and, shouldering our game, we resumed our route.

The sun was low, when we descended the steep hill whence we opened a view of Eagle Hawk Neck and the Pacific, and after a long and toilsome ascent of the "Saddle," by a path which abounded more in loose sharp stones than any which it has been my misfortune to fall in with. However, refreshment was at hand, which we were quite in condition to appreciate, for we will back a day's kangarooing against any other sport, for giving a zest both to victuals and drink.