June 23, 1887.] 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



471 



get wet and shrink, and when the sun conies out and 

 they begin to dry, they will stretch. It is necessary to 

 watch the packs under these circumstances, and to 

 tighten the ropes every little while. If this is not done 

 you will have your packs all off before long. At all 

 times the packs need watching, and it is better to have 

 one man ahead of the train and one behind. The latter 

 looks out carefully for the packs, and at the first sign 



Fig. 16.— Apabejo. Saddled. 



that one of them is slipping, calls to the leader, who 

 Btops the train, catches the animal bearing the loose 

 load, and with the assistance of his companion replaces it. 



As the ropes bear on the packs very hard, the weight 

 and strength of two men being employed to pull them 

 taut, it will be apparent that articles of a fragile nature 

 cannot be' carried in a pack. If you are starting into the 

 mountains with a fishing rod, the pack is not a very safe 



Fig. 17.— Aparejo Sling. 



place for it. I have safely carried a rod over many miles of 

 mountain on a pack, but I have also taken the implement 

 off the pack and found it smashed into twenty pieces. 

 If a rod is to be put in the pack, let it be. put on after 

 the ropes have been tightened. Bun it through between 

 a side pack and the center pack, and tie it by strings to 

 the ropes. It should not project in front, but must run 

 out behind. A heavy sole-leather case is a great protec- 



Fig. 19.— Packed. 



tion, but a stout cylindrical stick, with grooves cut for 

 the joints, is even better. 



See that you have no loose ends of rope or projecting 

 loops about the pack to catch in the timber. You can be 

 sure that if such things do catch, the mule will not stop, 

 but will keep right on, pulling until something gives way, 

 and probably by the time that takes place, the pack will 

 be scattered on the ground. 



Before leaving camp put out your Sres, so that there 

 shall be no danger of their spreading. Never by any 

 chance build fires against trees or logs, or where there is 

 danger of burning up the camp. 



Whoop! Gunny-sacJc, git!" Yo. 



Address all communications to the Forest and Stream Pub. Co. 



A ZEBRA CHASE. 



" TF you are bound for the Transvaal, the Buffalo Biver , 

 X. will stop you, as it has been pourhig on the Drakens- 

 berg for the last two days and all the streams are running 

 banksful." 



"Such being the case, I'll stop here, as the grass is good 

 and I am in no hurry. Outspan, boys, and let the oxen 

 have a regular blow out." 



"That's right, as you will not be able to cross in two or 

 three days." 



And the transport rider, who had addressed me, yelled at* 

 his oxen, cracked his enormous whip and started down 

 the road tor the coast, while I knee-haltered my shooting 

 pony, turned him loose, to graze, and wandered over to 

 the fire started by the Kaffirs to get a light for my pipe. 

 After a few whiffs, it suddenly struck me that I was only 

 some twenty miles, in a direct line, from the farm which 

 I wished to reach, and I concluded that on the next day I 

 would make the. attempt of taking my light cart, which 

 carried my bed and provisions, directly across an unin- 

 habited portion of the country, and thus reach the banks 

 of the river on the opposite side to the farmhouse, a short 

 distance from it. 



The next morning, after giving directions to the driv- 

 ers of my heavy teams to remain camped for a couple of 

 days, and then take the road leading around the head- 

 waters of the river, I inspanned six oxen to the cart, and 

 taking a. couple of extra Kaffirs with the driver and fore- 

 looper, started off across the country. For the first six 

 or eight miles there was but little difficulty , then I got 

 into a series of wet-weather feeders of the Buffalo Biver 

 and my troubles commenced. It was one huge gully 

 after another, many being over 20ft. in depth, with sides 

 sufficiently steep to appall any one who had not become 

 acquainted with the wonderf id effects of erosion, to be 

 found in all the broken portions of South Africa. After 

 crossing a number at the constant risk of upsets, I came 

 to one which compelled the making of temporary diagonal 

 roads on both sides, in order to cross with any degree of 

 safety. Unyoking the oxen and allowing them to graze, 

 I marked out the proposed road, set the Kaffirs to work 

 with picks and shovels, and leading my shooting pony, 

 we scrambled across, and then mounting I cantered up 

 the rise in order to get a view of the country ahead. On 

 reaching the summit I found myself on the edge of a 

 saucer-like depression, in the center of which, some 

 200yds. distant, was a drove of some fifty or sixty Burch- 

 ell zebras (Eqiius burchelli), regularly "rounded up" by a 

 couple of vagrant curs. Hastily turning my pony back 

 out of sight, I dismounted, threw the reins over his head 

 and let them fall on the ground, which insured my find- 

 ing him within a few feet of the place at any time within 

 an hour. All the shooting ponies in South Africa are 

 broken to remain quiet under similar circumstances. I 

 then cautiously crept up the hill, and lying down behind 

 a convenient boulder, had a clear view of the fun. The 

 zebras were packed in a dense circular mass, heads in and 

 tails out, slowly revolving like a huge wheel; while the 

 dogs, on opposite sides, were ranging around without a 

 whimper, and as one would occasionally venture too near 

 it would be saluted by a series of vicious kicks, only to be 

 equalled by those of a Kentucky mule. After enjoying 

 the sight for some time, I sent a bullet from my Win- 

 chester pinging over the mass, whereupon the dogs 

 dropped their tails and loped off in the direction of the 

 river, while the zebras broke into an irregular body, and 

 soon disappeared in a cloud of dust over the rim of the 

 basin. 



On returning to the cart it was found necessary to un- 

 load it, carry everything across the gully, then tie the 

 wheels fast and skid it down one side, when the oxen 

 were yoked, and after a deal of shouting and whipping, 

 the empty cart was slowly drawn up the opposite side. 

 Nothing in all my South African experience tried niy 

 patience so much as the oxen. So long as the loads were 

 heavy and the roads decent I frequently made twenty- 

 five miles per day, but when it came to a tight pinch in 

 a bad place no dependence could be placed in them. I 

 never saw one that was properly broken. The manner 

 in which they are yoked would make a Yankee farmer 

 stare. The yoke is simply a straight round piece of wood 

 some three inches in diameter with holes mortised in it 

 for the insertion of two wooden pins to pass down on each 

 side of the neck, and all that prevents the animal from 

 freeing itself is a small loop of rawhide caught across un- 

 derneath the neck from the point of one pin to the other. 

 It is a constant occurrence when one gets into a^soft 

 place, requiring a strong and steady pull, to find a major- 

 ity of the team face to the right about and look the driver 

 in the face. In colonial parlance a span or team of oxen 

 consists of fourteen ; so I don't think it would require a 

 great stretch of imagination for the uninitiated to con- 

 jure up what a mess would be caused by such a number 

 of half wild brutes stuck in a mud-hole. 



After crossing I had but little difficulty in reaching the 

 banks of the Buffalo Biver, which I found to be quite full. 

 I struck it just where I proposed — in plain sight of the 

 house, less than two miles distant — and while the Kaffirs 

 were unyoking and preparing camp, a couple of heavy 

 blank cartridges fired from my shotgun brought three 

 Boers galloping down to the bank opposite me. Climbing 

 into the cart and exhibiting a flask of gin caused an im- 

 mediate disrobing,swim and handshaking with my friends. 

 On telling them of my experience with the zebras, they 

 informed me that the dogs of the neighboring farms fre- 

 quently hunted alone, and if I had watched closely I 

 would certainly have detected foals m the center of the 

 revolving mass, as they were what the dogs were after. 

 Moreover, as the river would not be fordable for a couple 

 of days, they would get back home, make arrangements 

 for catching a young one or two and rejoin me early the 

 next morning. After finishing the flask they re-crossed 

 the river and hurried off, while I had my supper, a pipe 

 and turned in full of pleasant anticipations of the sport I 

 expected to enjoy on the morrow. The Kaffirs were 

 turned out early the next morning and had just made a 

 pot of coffee, when a call from the opposite bank informed 

 me of the arrival of the Boers, who soon crossed, swim- 

 ming alongside their horses. After breakfasting, camp 

 was broken up and we trekked back on my preceding 



day's track some eight or ten miles, when a halt -was 

 made and while I arranged camp matters, the Boers can- 

 tered off in diverging lines to hunt up the zebras. It was 

 not long before they returned with the report of having 

 discovered them and that there was a foal not over ten 

 days old in the drove. It struck me at the time rather 

 strange how they managed to speak so positively about 

 the foal, but being a "tenderfoot" I felt ashamed to ask. 

 After-experience taught me that they were not only 

 magnificent shots at moving game, but that their eye- 

 sight was as keen as that of a Western Indian. I have 

 frequently had one say to me, "There go gnus, zebras, 

 blesboks, springboks, ostriches," etc., and on looking in 

 the direction pointed, could indistinctly make out mov- 

 ing objects which, with the help of a field glass, invaria- 

 bly proved the assertion to be correct. 

 , While eating dinner it was arranged that the elder 

 Boer should guide me to a hilltop some miles distant, 

 where we would have an uninterrupted view of the 

 attempted capture by the two younger ones, one of whom 

 rode a flea-bitten gray mare showing evident signs of 

 Arab blood, a strain Avhich was introduced into the Cape 

 Colony by the original Dutch settlers, and can be fre- 

 quently seen in the outlying districts. After reaching our 

 lookout we did not have to wait long before a cloud of 

 slowly rising dust warned us of the commencement of the 

 chase. At the suggestion of my guide, I adjusted my 

 field glass and could easily distinguish the two younger 

 Boers driving the zebras in our direction. They had their 

 horses well in hand, as it was a test of endurance rather 

 than speed. When they came within about a half mile 

 of us the foals began to knock under and fall behind, 

 accompanied by their dams. Selecting the one with the 

 youngest foal, which was furthest in the rear, the Boers 

 managed to ride in between them and the drove, and 

 gradually edged them off until a space of some 200yds. 

 intervened. Then my young friend mounted on the gray 

 mare, putting on steam, shot in between the colt and 

 mother, separated them, and drove her back into the fly- 

 ing drove, which he forced over a piece of rising ground 

 out of sight of his mate, who continued to pre:s the colt. 

 So soon as this was accomplished, he wheeled, and, tak- 

 ing an oblique course, w r as soon galloping alongside the 

 foal, which was being pushed by his partner. Watching 

 his opportunity, when it had been almost driven to a 

 standstill, he drew ahead, quickly dismounted on the side 

 opposite to which the colt would pass, and as it attempted 

 to do so darted underneath his mare's neck with such 

 force as to knock it entirely of its legs. Holding its head 

 down until joined by his comrade, it was lifted on its feet 

 and a portion of a pocket flash of gin poured down its 

 throat and the balance divided between themselves. Soon 

 after my guide and self joined them and I found the gray 

 mare nosing the little thing as if it were her own progeny, 

 while the captors were rubbing its woolly coat dry with 

 wisps of grass. In order to give it a thorough rest, the 

 horses were knee-haltered, allowed to graze, and we 

 stretched on the turf until the sim notified us that it was 

 time to start for camp. On mounting I was surprised to 

 find that the Boers made no attempt to lead their little 

 captive. It was allowed to trot alongside the gray mare, 

 and acted precisely as if it had never known another 

 mother. On reaching camp we found a couple of Kaffirs 

 had arrived from the farm with a supply of fresh milk, 

 which had been arranged for by the Boers while at home 

 on the preceding evening. An ox horn, with a leather 

 teat attached after the tip had been sawn off, served for 

 giving the youngster its supper, but not without an incau- 

 tious Kaffir getting a taste of its heels while it was tug- 

 ging away at the horn, down which one of the Boers 

 poured the milk. I frequently noticed in South Africa 

 the invariable antipathy of all wild animals toward the 

 natives, caused no doubt by the Kaffirs flinching and 

 showing signs of fear while in their presence. 



I once had a young zebra which w^ould follow me any- 

 where, and it was frequently allowed to accompany me 

 into town from the suburbs where I resided. The path 

 led through some dense bush, filled with many varieties 

 of thorny growth so characteristic of South Africa. In 

 passing through , if I should happen to see a Kaffir com- 

 ing in the opposite direction, I would quicken my pace, 

 pass the Kaffir and leave the zebra well in the rear, who, 

 so soon as he found out there was a native between us, 

 would instantly charge as if he were going to eat him up. 

 The Kaffir would be sure to press against the brush with 

 his back to the path, so as to allow r his enemy alltheroom 

 possible for a free passage, when the zebra would lush 

 past, but in so doing would manage to land his heels on 

 the naked Kaffir's seat with such force as to pitch him 

 headlong into the prickly brush, from which he would 

 emerge filled with tiny prickly thorns. My pet finally 

 became such a terror to all the native population that, so 

 soon as I would turn into the main street of the town, the 

 cry of "Itubi! Ittibir* shouted from a dozen throats, 

 would cause an immediate stampede of every native to 

 the side opposite to that on which I was passing. One 

 day, as I was returning home, the baker called me across 

 the street with the information that a leopard had visited 

 his pig pen in the suburbs on the previous night, and 

 wanted to know if I could manage to shoot it as it would 

 be sure to pay a second visit. While chatting with him 

 his wife called out: "The zebra is eating all my tarts." 

 On looking around, I found the zebra had passed behind 

 the counter, poked his nose into the bow window and 

 seized one of the cookies displayed therein, while the 

 woman, flirting her apron and shooing vigorously, kept 

 at a respectful distance, warned by his flattened ears and 

 the ominous switching of his tail. Springing over the 

 counter, I backed him out from behind it, and allowed 

 him to munch away with my arm passed around his 

 neck to prevent a repetition of the robbery, while I fin- 

 ished my conversation. Several times subsequently, but 

 not constantly, when we would pass the shop, he would 

 walk in, help himself, hurry out and trot down the street 

 to catch me, chewing a tart, for which I had to pay v The 

 idiosyncracies of animals, one of my favorite studies, 

 must be my excuse for interlarding my narrative with 

 these notes. 



At nightfall when the horses were caught and tied to 

 the wheels of the cart, the young zebra kept close to the 

 mare and just before turning in we found it lying down 

 almost under her heels. The next morning we started 

 for the river, and on reaching its banks found it still too 

 full to attempt fording. The afternoon was devoted to 

 target practice, when my Wichester came into play and 



*Zulu name for zebra. 



