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It was with some difficulty that they could be driven off; but the roar of a lion, that was just then heard over the plain, and the repeated application of Swartboy's jambok, rendered them more tractable, and at length they suffered themselves to be driven home, and lodged within their kraals. Swartboy had provided himself with a bag, which he carried back full of locusts.
Unfortunately Swartboy's legs had not yet cleared the circle the kaross lapped around them and the Bushman was thrown sprawling upon the plain. In a moment the active Swartboy recovered his feet, and was about to make off in a new direction. But the elephant, having discovered the deception of the kaross, had dropped it, and turned suddenly after him.
The failure of the expedition so far was, in Swartboy's opinion, wholly owing to Congo. He had known from the first that no success could attend them while guided by a Kaffir, or any race of blacks whose language a Kaffir could understand.
An angry rhinoceros, or elephant, would level such a house to the ground in a few moments. Suppose, too, that there were man-eaters in the neighbourhood. Swartboy believed that there were, and that that region was notorious for them. As it was not far from Swartboy's native country, Von Bloom, who had reason to believe what the Bushman told him, was inclined to credit this.
There was good sense in this suggestion there was plausibility in it. Von Bloom saw this; and, desisting from his previous intention, he determined to adopt Swartboy's plan. But how was it to be executed? The door still hung upon its hinges, as also the window-shutter. If they could only get hold of these, and shut them fast, they would have the lion secure, and might destroy him at their leisure.
It would be a safe stock to have on hand, and need not interfere with their eating venison, or any other dainty that might turn up. The first thing done was to cut out the tusks. This proved a tough job, and occupied full two hours. Fortunately there was a good axe on hand. But for this and Swartboy's knowledge, double the time might have been wasted in the operation.
Why do you wish to see your master, if you are so offended as to have forsaken him. What is your reason for staying behind?" "Don't know," vaguely responded the Kaffir. "Dis fool Congo don't know nuffin'." "Der's one thing I mus say for Congo," said Swartboy, "he mos allers tell the troof. He jus done so now." The Kaffir smiled as though satisfied with Swartboy's remark.
He had ever represented to his young masters that the Bushmen were a race of noble warriors and hunters, that they were kind, hospitable, intelligent, and in every respect superior to the countrymen of his rival Congo. They were now in a country inhabited by several wandering tribes of these people, and where opportunities might not be wanting to test the truth of Swartboy's assertions.
They had even followed him across the open ground into the bush, where Von Bloom awaited him. On hearing the shot, and seeing that the elephant was still unhurt, Swartboy's courage gave way; and leaving Hendrik, he ran back towards the mokhala grove, shouting as he went. His cries reached the ears of the elephant, that at once rushed off in the direction in which he heard them.
But for all that, the presence of the brutes was very offensive, as not a bit of meat not a hide, nor rheim, nor any article of leather could be left below without their getting their teeth upon it, and chewing it up. Quarters of venison they had frequently stolen, and they had eaten up the leathern part of Swartboy's saddle, and rendered it quite useless for a while.
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