Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick ( Chapter 19 )( Page 2 )Jock's Mistake

At the next stop I had a look back to see how he was behaving, and to my surprise, although he was following carefully close behind me, he was looking steadily away to our immediate right.  I subsided gently on to my left side to see what it was that interested him, and to my delight saw a troop of twenty to twenty-five Blue Wildebeeste.  They, too, were `standing any way,' and evidently had not seen us. I worked myself cautiously round to face them so as to be able to pick my shot and take it kneeling, thus clearing the tops of the grass; but whilst doing this another surprising development took place.  Looking hard and carefully at the wildebeeste two hundred yards away, I became conscious of something else in between us, and only half the distance off, looking at me.  It had the effect of a shock; the disagreeable effect produced by having a book or picture suddenly thrust close to the face; the feeling of wanting to get further away from it to re-focus one's sight. What I saw was simply a dozen quagga, all exactly alike, all standing alike, all looking at me, all full face to me, their fore feet together, their ears cocked, and their heads quite motionless--all gazing steadily at me, alive with interest and curiosity.  There was something quite ludicrous in it, and something perplexing also: when I looked at the quagga the wildebeeste seemed to get out of focus and were lost to me; when I looked at the wildebeeste the quagga `blurred' and faded out of sight.  The difference in distance, perhaps as much as the very marked difference in the distinctive colourings, threw me out; and the effect of being watched also told.  Of course I wanted to get a wildebeeste, but I was conscious of the watching quagga all the time, and, for the life of me, could not help constantly looking at them to see if they were going to start off and stampede the others. Whilst trying to pick out the best of the wildebeeste a movement away on the left made me look that way: the impala jumped off like one animal, scaring the tsessebe into a scattering rout; the quagga switched round and thundered off like a stampede of horses; and the wildebeeste simply vanished.  One signal in one troop had sent the whole lot off.  Jock and I were left alone, still crouching, looking from side to side, staring at the slowly drifting dust, and listening to the distant dying sound of galloping feet. It was a great disappointment, but the conviction that we had found a really good spot made some amends, and Snowball was left undisturbed to feed and rest for another two hours.  We made for the waggons along another route taking in some of the newly discovered country in the home sweep, and the promise of the morning was fulfilled.  We had not been more than a few minutes on the way when a fine rietbuck ram jumped up within a dozen yards of Snowball's nose.  Old Rocky had taught me to imitate the rietbuck's shrill whistle and this one fell to the first shot.  He was a fine big fellow, and as Snowball put on airs and pretended to be nervous when it came to packing the meat, I had to blindfold him, and after hoisting the buck up to a horizontal branch lowered it on to his back.

Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick (Chapter 19)( Page 6 ) Jocks Mistake

The reason for Jock's persistent disobedience that day was not even suspected then; I put everything down to the kick; and he seemed to me to be `all wrong,' but indeed there was excuse enough for him. Nevertheless it was puzzling that at times he should ignore me in positively contemptuous fashion, and at others obey with all his old readiness: I neither knew he was deaf, nor realised that the habit of using certain signs and gestures when I spoke to him--and even of using them in place of orders when silence was imperative--had made him almost independent of the word of mouth.  From that day he depended wholly upon signs; for he never heard another sound. Jock came back with me and lay down; but he was not content.  Presently he rose again and remained standing with his back to me, looking steadily in the direction taken by the koodoo.  It was fine to see the indomitable spirit, but I did not mean to let him try again; the koodoo was as good as dead no doubt, yet a hundred koodoo would not have tempted me to risk taking him out: to rest him and get him back to the camp was the only thought.  I was feeling very soft about the dog then. And while I sat thus watching him and waiting for him to rest and recover, once more and almost within reach of me he started off again. But it was not as he had done before: this time he went with a spring and a rush, and with head lowered and meaning business.  In vain I called and followed: he outpaced me and left me in a few strides. The koodoo had gone along the right bank of the donga which, commencing just below the pool, extended half a mile or more down the flat valley. Jock's rush was magnificent, but it was puzzling, and his direction was even more so; for he made straight for the donga. I ran back for the rifle and followed, and he had already disappeared down the steep bank of the donga when, through the trees on the opposite side, I saw a koodoo cow moving along at a slow cramped walk.  The donga was a deep one with perpendicular sides, and in places even overhanging crumbling banks, and I reached it as Jock, slipping and struggling, worked his way up the other wall writhing and climbing through the tree roots exposed by the floods.  As he rushed out the koodoo saw him and turned; there was just a chance--a second of time: a foot of space-- before he got in the line of fire; and I took it.  One hind leg gave way, and in the short sidelong stagger that followed Jock jumped at the koodoo's throat and they went down together. It took me several minutes to get through the donga, and by that time the koodoo was dead and Jock was standing, wide-mouthed and panting, on guard at its head: the second shot had been enough. It was an unexpected and puzzling end; and, in a way, not a welcome one, as it meant delay in getting back.  After the morning's experience there was not much inclination for the skinning and cutting up of a big animal and I set to work gathering branches and grass to hide the carcase, meaning to send the boys back for it. But the day's experiences were not over yet: a low growl from Jock made me look sharply round, to see half a dozen kaffirs coming through the bush with a string of mongrel hounds at their heels.

Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick (Chapter 19)( Page 5 ) Jocks Mistake

I have the impression--as one sees oneself in a nightmare--of a person throwing up his arms and calling the name of his child as a train passed over it. Jock lay limp and motionless, with the blood oozing from mouth, nose, and eyes.  I recollect feeling for his heart-beat and breath, and shaking him roughly and calling him by name; then, remembering the pool near by, I left him in the shade of a tree, filled my hat with water, ran back again and poured it over him and into his mouth, shaking him again to rouse him, and several times pressing his sides--bellows fashion--in a ridiculous effort to restore breathing. The old hat was leaky and I had to grip the rough-cut ventilations to make it hold any water at all, and I was returning with a second supply when with a great big heart-jump, I saw Jock heel over from his side and with his fore legs flat on the ground raise himself to a resting position, his head wagging groggily and his eyes blinking in a very dazed way. He took no notice when I called his name, but at the touch of my hand his ears moved up and the stumpy tail scraped feebly in the dead leaves. He was stone deaf; but I did not know it then.  He lapped a little of the water, sneezed the blood away and licked his chops; and then, with evident effort, stood up. But this is the picture which it is impossible to forget.  The dog was still so dazed and shaken that he reeled slightly, steadying himself by spreading his legs well apart, and there followed a few seconds' pause in which he stood thus; and then he began to walk forward with the uncertain staggery walk of a toddling child.  His jaws were set close; his eyes were beady black, and he looked `fight' all over.  He took no notice of me; and I, never dreaming that he was after the koodoo, watched the walk quicken to a laboured trot before I moved or called; but he paid no heed to the call.  For the first time in his life there was rank open defiance of orders, and he trotted slowly along with his nose to the ground.  Then I understood; and, thinking he was maddened by the kick and not quite responsible for himself, and--more than that-- admiring his pluck far too much to be angry, I ran to bring him back; but at a turn in his course he saw me coming, and this time he obeyed the call and signal instantly, and with a limp air of disappointment followed quietly back to the tree.

Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick (Chapter 19)( Page 4 ) Jocks Mistake

No two days were quite alike; yet many were alike in the sense that they were successful without hitch and without interest to any but the hunters; many others were marked by chases in which Jock's part--most essential to success--too closely resembled that of other days to be worth repeating.  On that day he had, as usual, been the one to see the wildebeeste and had `given the word' in time; the rest was only one straight shot.  That was fair partnership in which both were happy; but there was nothing to talk about. There was very little wanton shooting with us, for when we had more fresh meat than was required, as often happened, it was dried as `bultong' for the days of shortage which were sure to come. I started off early next morning with the boys to bring in the meat, and went on foot, giving Snowball a rest, more or less deserved.  By nine o'clock the boys were on their way back, and leaving them to take the direct route I struck away eastwards along the line of the pools, not expecting much and least of all dreaming that fate had one of the worst days in store for us: "From cloudless heavens her lightnings glance" did not occur to my mind as we moved silently along in the bright sunshine. We passed the second pool, loitering a few minutes in the cool shade of the evergreens to watch the green pigeons feeding on the wild figs and peering down curiously at us; then moved briskly into more open ground. It is not wise to step too suddenly out of the dark shade into strong glare, and it may have been that act of carelessness that enabled the koodoo to get off before I saw them.  They cantered away in a string with the cows in the rear, between me and two full-grown bulls.  It was a running sho --end on--and the last of the troop, a big cow, gave a stumble; but catching herself up again she cantered off slowly.  Her body was all bunched up and she was pitching greatly, and her hind legs kept flying out in irregular kicks, much as you may see a horse kick out when a blind fly is biting him. There was no time for a second shot and we started off in hot pursuit; and fifty yards further on where there was a clear view I saw that the koodoo was going no faster than an easy canter, and Jock was close behind. Whether he was misled by the curious action, and believed there was a broken leg to grip, or was simply over bold, it is impossible to know. Whatever the reason, he jumped for one of the hind legs, and at the same moment the koodoo lashed out viciously.  One foot struck him under the jaw close to the throat, `whipped' his head and neck back like a bent switch, and hurled him somersaulting backwards.