Chapter III: Part 3

Needless to say, the animal-catcher's task is much more difficult than that of the ordinary hunter; from first to last every quest is one long period of anxiety. The simplest part of the work, in many cases, is the capture of the beasts. Thereafter his chief concern is their welfare. He has to attend to their many and varied wants, doctor them when they are sick, and transport them safely for many thousands of miles--often across trackless and practically unexplored country. Not only must he know how to deal with the savage beast, but with the savage man as well, for to accomplish his purpose he has frequently to rely upon the natives to assist him, and he can only do this efficiently by knowing how to handle them. Indeed, there are few callings demanding more qualifications than that of the seeker after live wild animals. The modern collector is a hunter, explorer, and zoologist rolled into one.

Naturally, it is the rarer species, such as the rhinoceros, hippopotamus, giraffe, and zebra, that the dealers most prize. And here a word of explanation is necessary. A traveller returning from the wilds of Africa will tell you how he detected hippos floating down the streams and spotted giraffes on the horizon; he will also relate to you how many had been shot in the district only a short while before by some famous sportsman. Yet, if you wished to procure a live rhinoceros to-day, you would probably have to give as much as eight hundred pounds for it, and almost as much for a hippopotamus. Why, one may well ask, this enormous price for a single specimen of these creatures, when they appear to be fairly plentiful in the land of their birth? The reason is easily explained.

_From Photographs._]

To-day no hunter would dream of trying to capture a full-grown hippo or rhinoceros. Indeed, it would be practically impossible to hold such an animal, and, even were it possible to entice one into a cage, it would probably only kill itself in its frenzied efforts to escape, or refuse to eat, and so die of starvation. What the hunter endeavours to do, therefore, is to secure the young ones. This he does by hunting along the river banks until he happens to discover a hippo and her young. The thing then is to capture the calf.

Mr. Hagenbeck's hunters, or rather the natives engaged by his men, resort to two methods in catching the hippopotamus. The so-called Hawati, or water-hunters, of the Soudan, all of whom are excellent and daring swimmers, harpoon their victims at the noon hour, when they are sunk in deep slumber. Then they pull them to the bank by means of a cord attached to the harpoon, and there make them fast. The hunters use for this a special kind of harpoon, made in such a way that it does not make a deep wound. Fully three-quarters of the hippopotami exhibited in Europe have been captured in this way.

_From a Photograph._]
]

_From a Photograph._]
]

Hippopotamus hunts are also conducted on land. There advantage is taken of the fact that the female hippopotamus makes her young walk in front of her. The reason for this is that the beast, being well protected in the rear by its abnormally thick skin, prefers to have its offspring in front, where it can guard them better against danger. But, in spite of its affection for its children, the mother hippo has no particular desire to meet danger when it comes. So the hunters dig large pits in the forest, cover them over until they are fully concealed, and then lie in wait near by. Presently a female hippopotamus comes along with her child trotting before her. Suddenly, without warning, the young one disappears before its mother's eyes. This is too much for the old animal. She dashes away leaving the little one at the mercy of its enemies.

A fence is built at once around the pit and the captive is ensnared, thrown to the ground, and securely tied. Then it is placed on a sort of litter and carried by native carriers through the dense forest to the hunter's camp. This is arduous work, as a two-year-old hippo weighs from 1,000lb. to 1,200lb.

_From a Photograph._
]

Having secured the object of his mission, the next thing the hunter has to do is to feed his prize. Now, a baby hippo will drink thirty pints of milk a day and bellow for more, so that the question of an adequate supply is very important. The nutriment is supplied by goats, which have to be brought along with the expedition. This means, of course, that the hunter's caravan is an unwieldy affair, and can only move across country very slowly. Every step it advances it increases in size, being continually added to, for in addition to collecting live animals the collector also gathers skins and other things of value to the dealer.

All the great animal collectors are agreed that the finest hunters in the world are the natives themselves. They know how to frighten and confuse the parent animals, and are quick at seizing an opportunity for snatching up the young, a thing which has to be done quickly and without the slightest hesitation, or the consequences may prove serious.

In catching giraffes the hunter engages only natives who are expert horsemen; he may recruit as few as a dozen or a corps of a couple of hundred. Scouts are sent out until a herd is sighted, and then off go the natives on their speedy Abyssinian ponies. Having come up with the herd, with yells and shouts they dash towards the animals. Frightened out of their wits by the din, the long-necked creatures turn and bolt for dear life. For some time the chase is kept up at furious speed, until one by one the young ones fall behind exhausted. Instantly they are cut off from the others by a couple of men on horseback and headed towards the camp, soon becoming entirely exhausted and falling an easy prey to their captors. Halters are then fastened round their heads and they are led and driven back to the camp. They are fed principally on goats' milk, corn, and various kinds of green stuff.

It would be practically impossible to secure a full-grown giraffe, for if you managed to corner one you could not hold it. This animal is more plentiful now than it was a few years ago, on account of the opening up of the Egyptian Soudan. Indeed, between the years 1880 and 1900 only three giraffes were imported into Europe, two coming from South Africa and one from Senegal. "I have had rather bad luck with giraffes lately," said Mr. Hagenbeck. "Out of six recently sent to us from the interior of Nubia, only one arrived alive; the remainder all died on the way. Last year, out of eight, only two reached Hamburg."

A more hardy animal, and one that is decidedly more plentiful, is the zebra--that is to say, the common mountain kind. Certain species of this beautifully-striped African horse, however, are getting very scarce, including the Grévy and Burchell. Zebras are caught by "drives." First of all, the hunter builds a large stockaded enclosure with a kind of funnel-shaped opening. As many as three to five thousand natives are then called into requisition. Some of them come mounted on their swift ponies, the majority, however, being on foot. Each man carries a harmless-looking little flag on the end of a stick. Scouts are sent out in various directions, and when they report the presence of a herd the army of natives quietly files out of camp and for hours tramps over the ground, spreading out in the form of a vast semicircle, measuring perhaps five miles across at its widest part. In this way they manage to surround the unsuspecting zebras. Then, at a given signal--generally a pistol-shot--they commence shouting and beating tom-toms, moving meanwhile towards the animals.

The frightened zebras retreat at once, dashing towards the stockade. As they approach it other animals are surprised, including, perhaps, antelope, eland, deer, buffalo, and perhaps a giraffe. The one aim of the four-footed fugitives is to get away from the cordon of yelling natives, which now surrounds them on every side. There is only one outlet, which leads into the stockade, and into this they plunge panic-stricken. Once inside, the entrance is immediately closed. At a recent drive, organized by one of Mr. Hagenbeck's hunters in German East Africa, fully four hundred zebras and a large number of antelopes and other animals were surrounded in this way. As the corral was not large enough to hold such a number the greater portion were allowed to escape, and finally eighty-five zebras and fifteen antelopes were secured.

When first captured the zebra is very wild, dashing about the stockade at lightning speed, but in a few days he recognises that it is hopeless to try to escape, and philosophically accepts the situation. In German East Africa the settlers often tame these newly-caught zebras and ride them like horses.

Curiously enough, the big cats--such as lions, tigers, and leopards--do not give the hunter so much trouble as some of the hoofed animals. In the case of lions they are now only taken when cubs. This work is done by the natives; the collector merely tells them that he is wanting lions, and in a short time they return with the desired number. These men track the lioness to her den, rushing in suddenly and raining spears upon her till she is dead. The little ones are then wrapped up in pieces of cloth and handed over to the hunter at the camp. They are fed on goats' milk--which they drink out of a bottle--and pieces of fowl until they are old enough to travel, when they are sent down to the coast in little wooden boxes on the backs of camels and shipped to Europe.

Occasionally when the cub-hunters visit a den they find both parents away, and then their task is easy. Should the mother return, however, there is at once a fierce fight, and unless she is quickly overpowered it goes hard indeed with the natives. There is no creature more fierce than one of these big cats when it comes to protecting her young, and the cries of the infuriated mother will sometimes bring her mate to the scene, and an enraged male lion strikes terror into all but the stoutest hearts.

Abyssinia is now the great lion-hunting ground. The best lions were those obtained from the Atlas Mountains in North Africa, but this species is now practically extinct. At Mr. Hagenbeck's depôt there are at present some forty-six lions of all ages. They have come from the Congo, from the Egyptian Soudan, from Senegal, and from South and East Africa. Some of these animals are worth as much as three hundred pounds apiece. In the same section there may also be seen some twenty-two tigers, representing several very rare species. There are some, for instance, from Siberia, magnificent creatures, with beautifully-striped coats, and worth over two hundred pounds apiece.

Tigers are captured as cubs and also when fully grown; often the animal hunter, to the delight of the natives, will entrap some much-dreaded man-eater. Tigers are caught in large pitfalls, and various methods of securing the animals when once they are in the pit are adopted. In some cases a strong wooden trap is fixed in the pit, and when the animal falls through the lightly-covered mesh at the top it traps and cages itself automatically. In others it merely falls into a big hole, and has to be secured and dragged out by ropes. In certain parts of India the natives are so daring that they will place a collar, from which hang a number of twenty-foot ropes, round the neck of a newly-caught tiger. To the end of each a man will hang on for dear life, and by pulling against each other guide the infuriated brute along the path they wish it to follow. In this way they literally walk the tiger to market.

_From a Photograph._
]

Everyone knows how they catch elephants in India--by driving them into a kheddah or stockade, and then sending in trained elephants to subdue their newly-caught brethren--so that no description of this method need be given here. Naturally, no dealer would ever dream of organizing an expedition to hunt this great creature, save, perhaps, the African variety, which is now very rare and valuable. In the course of a single year Mr. Hagenbeck will dispose of as many as thirty to fifty elephants. On one occasion he received a cable ordering thirty, and they were duly shipped by the next steamer.

_From a Photograph._
]

Some few years ago the famous dealer had a remarkable experience with an African elephant, which stood eight feet in height and was a magnificent creature of its kind. It was sold to the proprietor of an American circus, who was then touring in Europe. Mr. Hagenbeck's instructions were to send the animal by rail from Hamburg to Dresden. A special wagon was ordered to convey the creature, and when all was ready it was walked from the depot down to the station.

"He went as quietly as a lamb," said Mr. Hagenbeck. "Arriving at the station, I fixed a stout rope to one of his forelegs, in case the animal should get a little nervous or excited. The elephant was just about to enter its wagon when an express train ran through the station, blowing its whistle rather loudly as it did so. This frightened the creature. He commenced to trumpet, spread out his long ears, and then, with a twist of his foot, smashed the rope as if it had been a piece of thread. Realizing he was about to bolt I jumped up and clung to one of his ears, hoping by this means to prevent the beast from dashing away and causing endless damage everywhere.

"I had hardly grasped his ear, however, before he started off. I had no option then but to hang on, for if I had dropped I should probably have been trampled upon, so to the animal's ear I clung for dear life. At the bottom of the railway yard was a large iron gate. When we first came through we had closed it behind us, and I thought that this barrier, perhaps, might stop the elephant's mad career. But it did nothing of the kind. The brute simply charged it full force with his head, without in the least slackening speed, and the stout gate was smashed, portions of the iron bars being hurled a great distance.

_From a Photograph._
]

_From a Photograph._]
]

"Out into the busy streets of Hamburg bolted the elephant, trumpeting madly and frightening both horses and pedestrians as he rushed along. Past electric trams and carriages he dashed, with me still dangling from one of his ears. He went straight back to the depôt, the same way as he had come--by a road which he had never travelled before. When he arrived at the depôt the iron gate there was closed, but this was quickly broken down and the creature dashed into his stable. Entering the latter, he stood still for a second or two, and then jumped on to the platform where he had been in the habit of standing and commenced eating hay as if nothing had happened!"

Here is an interesting instance of the famous dealer's enterprise. When the Russian traveller, Prjevalsky, startled the zoological world a few years ago by the announcement that he had seen in the deserts of Sungaria, in Central Asia, a new species of wild horse, Mr. Hagenbeck decided to secure some specimens, and an expedition was at once organized. His travellers penetrated to the northern border of the Gobi Desert, where they found themselves in the land of the Kirghiz, a tribe noted for its horses and expert horsemanship. Engaging the services of nearly two thousand Kirghiz riders, and taking with them fifty brood mares in foal, the collectors sought the desert home of the wild horse. After a series of exciting adventures the travellers succeeded in capturing fifty-two young colts of the wild horse species.

These were mothered by the domesticated mares that had been taken along with the expedition for that purpose, and then, after a rest, the long and arduous homeward journey was begun. It took three months for the caravan to reach the Siberian Railway and depart for Hamburg. During the trip twenty-eight of the wild colts succumbed, and only twenty-four reached Hamburg alive. The expedition was in the field nearly eighteen months, and its expenses totalled some ten thousand pounds.

When I was in Stellingen Mr. Hagenbeck was daily expecting the return of an expedition which he had dispatched to Northern Siberia. His men were bringing him home some rare deer, bears, wolves, pheasants, and a host of other creatures. Another hunter was on his way back from West Africa with some young gorillas and other interesting creatures, while yet another was bringing home elephants from Ceylon, and still a fourth Polar bears and young walruses from Spitzbergen.

These collectors journey far into the wilds and literally take their lives in their hands. They never know what danger awaits them. On one occasion a caravan was quietly making its way along the dry bed of a stream in Central Asia, the chief hunter happy in the knowledge that his mission had been successful, and that he was bringing home a really valuable collection of wild beasts. Suddenly the heavens grew dark and loud peals of thunder were heard, followed by vivid lightning-flashes. The hunter knew what it meant--unless he got out of that river-bed soon he and his men and their valuable freight would be washed away. He hastened them forward with all speed, but before they could find a track up the steep sides the waters were upon them, and in a few minutes what had previously been a smooth roadway was a roaring torrent, with men and horses, mixed up with all kinds of wild creatures, fighting for their lives Most of the men managed to escape, but three-fourths of the valuable animals were lost.

_From a Photograph._]
]

_From a Photograph._]
]

To describe how every beast one sees in a well-organized zoo is caught would naturally occupy a great deal of space. The various species of Siberian deer are taken when young. A herd is driven by the natives into deep snow, into which the young ones sink and are unable to extricate themselves. Most of the bears, too, are also secured when mere cubs. In the case of the giant Polar bear, the cubs are taken from their mothers, dumped into barrels, and brought across the ocean in ships to the dealer, often arriving in a very sorry plight. The Indian hunter will catch snakes for you by setting fire to the grass where they are known to exist, and securing them in nets as they try to escape. Those of the boa-constrictor type are taken either when they have gorged themselves with food, and are more or less lifeless, or else secured in traps.

The whole business is vastly exciting, and Mr. Hagenbeck can narrate many adventures he has had while handling his strange merchandise. When a young man he often went out himself hunting animals. While bringing home a large consignment once from Africa a full-grown lion got loose on board ship. It was very early in the morning, and the dealer was asleep in his cabin at the time. He was quickly roused by the captain, who was very much frightened, as were also the members of his crew. Placing a "shifting den" in position, the dealer took his large whip and sought the lion. He found him in a crouching position, his eyes glaring, and in no mood to be played with. Cracking the whip several times, by a series of man[oe]uvres he managed to get behind the beast and slowly drove him forward. It was very tricky work, and several times it looked as if the big revolver would have to be drawn and the animal shot. Then, as sometimes happens, the animal suddenly lost heart, bolted into his cage, and was safely secured.

In Suez, once, a full-grown giraffe ran away with Mr. Hagenbeck, who held him by a rope twisted round his wrist. Not being able to free himself he was dragged along the streets and fearfully knocked about. When he did get loose he was so exhausted and bruised that he had to lie quite still for a quarter of an hour without moving. On another occasion, while unloading a hippopotamus, the animal got loose and started after him. He ran into its den, and managed to escape through the bars at the other end just as the beast was upon him.

_From a Photograph._
]

Animals sometimes start fighting among themselves, and to separate them is exceedingly dangerous. Perhaps the queerest encounter ever witnessed at this remarkable animal exchange was that which took place between a hippopotamus and a kangaroo. "The latter," said Mr. Hagenbeck, "was the largest kangaroo I ever had in my possession; it was over six feet high, and a very powerful animal. It occupied a stable close to that of the hippo, and one night the kangaroo jumped over its fence into the hippo's pen. The kangaroo landed in the hippo's tank, which was empty.

"It was two o'clock in the morning when the incident occurred, and when I arrived on the scene I could not help smiling, the whole affair being so comical. There stood the monster hippo with his enormous mouth open, snapping at the kangaroo down in the tank below. The moment the hippo moved down towards the tank the kangaroo sprang into the air and smacked his opponent in the face with his great forefeet. When the hippo got too venturesome, by endeavouring to walk into the tank despite the blows, the kangaroo took a mighty leap upwards and struck his enemy with his hind feet, inflicting terrible scratches with his claws.

"Try as he would the hippo could not get into that tank to attack the kangaroo. To separate the combatants was a puzzle. We did it ultimately by fixing up an arrangement by which we dropped a large seal net over the kangaroo, and then, drawing in the cords, secured him. To divert the hippo's attention, the moment the net was lowered over the kangaroo one of my men pretended to enter the cage. The ruse succeeded, and the kangaroo was safely released and taken back to his proper quarters.

"I could tell you many more adventures," said Mr. Hagenbeck, as we shook hands on parting, "but the fact is I have just written a book in which I have given a complete story of my life, and I have embodied in it the little adventures I have had while hunting, collecting, and handling my strange merchandise." That book certainly ought to make good reading.

HOW WE CAPTURED THE REBEL CHIEF.

BY E. F. MARTIN, LATE OF THE ROYAL NIGER COMPANY'S SERVICE.

A powerful native chief was stirring up trouble against the
white man, and the order went forth that he was to be arrested
and brought in for trial. The author was in charge of the
expedition, and here relates the thrilling happenings that
befell his little band ere the "wanted" rebel was safely caged
at head-quarters.

It was the month of July, in the year 1898, and we were kicking our heels in idleness about Asaba, waiting for the return of the Chief Justice to decide an important local matter, when the senior executive officer of the district requested me to take political charge of a mission into the Hinterland, to bring in the paramount chief of a great secret organization, which was the cause of grave unrest in the territory behind Benin, its members having vowed to drive the white man out of the country. Overjoyed at the news, I ran across to the bungalow of Lieutenant Townsend, the officer commanding the local detachment of the Royal Niger Constabulary, and handed him the order to accompany me with an escort of fifty men. After luncheon we mounted the Maxim gun belonging to the station on Townsend's veranda, and practised, in turn, on logs floating down the great sluggish Niger, which passes in a wide sweep by the foot of the slope on which Asaba nestles.

Our target-practice over, we set to work to review the light column that had, meanwhile, been getting ready to accompany us on the morrow on our adventure into the unknown. The fifty Hausa soldiers looked wonderfully smart and keen in their light khaki marching-kit.

At daylight next day we set out, our transport consisting of sixty coolie carriers. The dreary pattering of the rain on the myriad leaves of the forest trees, and the splash, splash of many feet on the flooded pathway, provided a melancholy accompaniment to the hushed whispers of the men and our own serious thoughts.

We passed round the native town to the right and plunged up to our waists in muddy water, through which the pathway led right into the darkness of the forest. For several hours it rained incessantly; the whole land was dank and sodden, and reeked of wet, rotting vegetation. Later on the rain ceased, and on one occasion, when we emerged from the depths of the forest into open farm lands, we were bathed in a blaze of sunshine, only to plunge into the cool of the forest glades again. We pitched camp at Openam, where far into the night I lay awake, listening to the many strange noises of that strange land. The beating of the corn for next day's meal sounded like the possible building of stockades by some malignant enemy preparing to entrap us, and the cries of the night-birds and prowling beasts seemed like so many uncanny voices of woodland spirits, warning us of some impending doom.

We were early astir, and after a quick light breakfast set out towards our goal--the town of Issèlé. At Issèlé M'patimo we were stopped by a stockade, and it was only after much persuasion and many assurances of friendship that we were allowed to pass through--not, however, before every soul in the place had disappeared. Not a house was to be seen. We entered a great clearing completely fenced in by impenetrable barriers of living trees, whose leafy branches interlaced in inextricable folds. Somewhere behind these barriers were the houses. We could see no trace of the hundreds of eyes that we felt--we _knew_--were staring at us from all sides; no inkling of the countless black muzzles of the Long Dane guns that were covering us. Nobody appeared, however, and we marched through this silent clearing without mishap. But we had hardly got beyond the confines of this curious city of the woods before heavy firing broke out in our immediate rear. We felt certain that we were in for it, but our guide reassured us, saying that the townspeople were only giving vent to their feelings of relief at our not having molested them.

That night we camped in a village outside Issèlé, and on interviewing the chief found that he had with him a daughter of the man we wished to capture, and persuaded her to come with us next morning into Issèlé.

On reaching that town we drew the men up in square before the King's house--a lofty building of enormous circumference, painted or washed a pink colour--and demanded to see His Majesty. After a lot of parleying I entered the building, leaving Townsend outside, but taking my interpreter and four soldiers with me as a body guard. I was shown into a large courtyard, surrounded on all sides by a veranda, whilst in the centre stood a kind of idol on a rude column. Overhanging the palace outside, an enormous cotton-tree rose some two hundred feet into the air. Not a leaf or a vestige of bark adorned its mournful, lonely majesty. From every branch, however, hung some ghastly offering to the ruling fetish of the place--here a dead fowl, there a skull dangling by a matted bunch of hair, and many another gruesome thing. It cast a shadow and a hush of Death over everything; the people seemed to live in continual fear of some unknown terror. As I waited in this strange courtyard with my five companions, I took the opportunity to get my bearings. The doorway by which I had entered led out into the square by some steps, and was about six feet above the level of the ground outside. Its heavy, iron-studded wooden door stood ajar. The only other entrance to the courtyard was opposite this one, and led into the private apartments of the palace. The middle of the courtyard was some two feet below the level of the surrounding veranda.

Suddenly the private door flew open, and a swarm of men entered, armed with guns, spears, swords, and bows and arrows. At a sign from me my men quietly fixed bayonets. Then the King came in, gorgeously robed in red velvet, and sat down on a chair near me, after shaking hands and indicating another chair that had been brought for me. I then, through my interpreter, explained my mission. As the King proved to be on bad terms with Ozuma Munyi, the man I sought, he was quite willing to give me a free hand, but did not dare to take any open action himself, as Ozuma was head of a very powerful party and might prove nasty later on. He, however, agreed to send a messenger to call him. We waited for fully half an hour, not knowing whether the rebel chieftain would come or not. Needless to say, that half-hour was one of poignant anxiety, as on that message depended the success or failure of our expedition. The messenger was told to say that Ozuma's daughter was with us, and that if he himself would not come we should return to Asaba with her. Meanwhile I called Townsend in, and we arranged that, as Ozuma's party entered, Townsend and twelve men should manage to intermingle with them, and thus, unnoticed, get into the courtyard. We felt that to fill the place with soldiers beforehand might frighten our man.

Soon the messenger returned with the good news that Ozuma Munyi was coming, and shortly afterwards a body of men, armed to the teeth, entered from the square outside, accompanied by Townsend and some of his men. When Ozuma and I had shaken hands the tug-of-war began. He was an enormous, powerfully-built man, and nothing that I could say would move him to accompany us. At last, seeing that persuasion was useless, I glanced across at Townsend and nodded. He uttered one word that had the result of an explosion. A flash of bayonets and a rush of khaki-uniformed men from behind the veranda columns, and the whole place was in an uproar. The King and his followers promptly disappeared through the inner doorway, and Ozuma's men were kept at bay by the bayonets of my four Hausa guards, whilst our rebel himself, and the twelve men told off to capture him, rolled and tumbled and fought all over the courtyard--one man against twelve--amid Ozuma's frenzied shouts of "The King has sold me! The King has sold me!" Then, crash! out through the doorway he hurtled, with five men on top of him. By the time Townsend and I reached the bottom of the steps, however, the struggle was over, and half the column was sitting on the prostrate body of our prisoner.

Having called the men off and pinioned his arms securely, we lost no time in forming up into marching order and setting out for home, as our surroundings began to take on a threatening aspect. Hundreds of armed blacks were gathering from all sides, wondering at the happenings which were being enacted in the shadow of their mystery-tree.

We decided to give the Ozuma party the slip by getting out of the place by a different route to that by which we had come, and, once clear of the town, set off at the double. That was the hardest and most desperate race I have ever run. At every few yards great trees had been thrown across the track, and we had to scramble over these, or, wherever practicable, dive underneath. We ran for some miles along this tangled forest path, and then called a halt at the foot of a short hill, crowned by a town called Nburu-Kitti. Forming up we marched to the summit, and halting in the marketplace sent for the King. His Majesty refused to come, so we informed him that, on a second refusal, we would fire into his house. Then he came quickly enough. We told him that all we wished him to do was to promise that we should not be molested by his people, and this promise he readily gave. I then took the head of the column, followed by five or six men; then came the Maxim gun and our prisoner and his escort, followed immediately by Townsend and the rest of the force. As we were passing the last row of huts the crack of a musket rang out. I turned, thinking that some soldier had let off his rifle by mistake, but before I could ask what it was that had happened the whole column was blazing away right and left. Going back to the Maxim, I had it fixed up and trained on the town, whence a heavy fire had been opened on us through the doors and windows and from behind the walls of the compounds. It was obvious that the local King meant to do his best to rescue his friend, Ozuma Munyi.

I had barely taken my seat behind the gun when my helmet was shot away by a slug that tore a slight flesh wound over my right temple. I had the satisfaction, however, of seeing a whole section of wall crumble away under my first sweeping fire with the Maxim, and five dark forms fall across the ruins. Then a blinding rush of blood poured down my face, and almost simultaneously the gun jammed. Wiping the blood from my eyes, and getting a Hausa to tie a handkerchief round my head, I turned to call Townsend to have a look at the weapon, when, to my consternation, I saw him lying on the ground, with two men bending over him. Several others had also fallen. The fire from the houses was getting heavier each second, and I realized that unless we mastered it speedily we might find ourselves in a serious position. So, snatching up Townsend's sword and brandishing my revolver in my left hand, I called on some of the men to follow me and help clear the compounds. Twenty at once volunteered, and with a yell we dashed straight for the wall that had crumbled under the Maxim fire. Leaping over the foot or two remaining, we rushed in amongst a frightened crowd of savages, who, astonished at the sudden onslaught, tried to retreat through a narrow inner doorway. With bayonets and rifle-butts, bullets and sword-thrusts, we hacked and hammered at the seething mass of yelling blacks. Out of twenty-five that made for the exit, only seven got through, three of whom fell to my revolver before getting any farther. Shouting to the men to follow me, I next ran back into the roadway, ordering the native sergeant-major to form square, with the prisoner in the middle, and await further instructions. Then, with my volunteers, I made for the King's house, where we battered down the door and rushed in. As we appeared the folk inside, dropping their weapons, ran away through various huts and doorways. Some we shot down, others were bayoneted. I and a native N.C.O. went after the chief. Through some huts, and around others, dodging in and out between mud walls and partitions of matting, we followed him until at last we cornered him, as we thought, in a house that seemed to close all exit from the compound in that direction. The King dashed in, I after him, and the N.C.O. at my heels.

The house was divided into three rooms, cutting it into three equal parts. When we reached the third room, the farthest from the entrance, we came to a standstill, for it was pitch dark, and there seemed to be no windows. The heavy wooden door that led into the place stood ajar, and the N.C.O. pushed past me and rushed into the darkness. Fearing treachery, I tried to stop him, but did not succeed in doing so. Just then there was a noise behind me like the banging of a door. I turned, but some instinct seemed to hold me where I stood. A dead silence had fallen on the place, and I must confess to a feeling that something uncanny was in the air. I could hear through the silence, as though from miles and miles away, faint shouts, and now and then a distant shot, but in the rooms around me absolute stillness prevailed. What had become of the fugitive King and my too eager N.C.O.?

At last, overcoming the strange feeling of apathy that like a spell had come over me, I called to my companion, inquiring where on earth he had got to. The sound of my voice rang hollow and strange in that gloomy place, and seemed to echo faintly, but there was no reply. Feeling certain now that some kind of treachery was at work, I felt in my tunic for a match, but found that I had either dropped my only box or my orderly had relieved me of it that morning, for some reason best known to himself. The solitary window in the middle room, where I had come to a full stop, was shuttered--actually nailed up. The only light that came in filtered through the chinks. I tried to burst the shutter open, but it resisted all my efforts. Then, bethinking me of my revolver, I went to the entrance of the innermost room once more, and, aiming at the floor, fired. The flash revealed the interior to me for an instant. It seemed absolutely empty! Where were the two men who had entered? Had they gone out, by any chance, through the roof, I wondered? Yet there was no sign of daylight anywhere to indicate an exit under the palm-thatch, and there was no doorway visible in the farther walls. There was nothing in the room, with the exception of a few mats lying in the middle of the floor. With the intention of going round outside the house and trying to discover for myself what the solution of the mystery could be I turned on my heel and retraced my steps, crossed the middle room once more, and passed through the doorway into the first of the three rooms.

Then I started back, nearly suffocated. A great rolling cloud of thick yellow smoke met me and completely enveloped me. In an instant I realized what it meant--the house was on fire! Making a wild dart for the shuttered window of the middle room, I banged and hammered at it with all my might and main, using both the hilt of Townsend's sword, which I carried, and the handle of my revolver, but all to no purpose. There was no doubt about it: I was completely trapped. But, meantime, what had become of all my men--the twenty enthusiastic volunteers who had smashed in the door of the compound and rushed in along with me--where had they got to? A smell of hot smoke filled the room, and from outside the roaring as of a mighty wind, accompanied by the crackling of musketry, was all the sound that I could hear. Then it suddenly dawned upon me that the crackling was not that of musketry, the roaring not that of wind--but of the town and compound on fire and fiercely blazing like the house I was entrapped in. There was no mistaking those ominous red gleams that now began to be reflected through the imperfectly-fitted shutter. Suddenly the roar became deafening, and a great lurid tongue of flame shot across the room, accompanied by a blast of heat that nearly choked me. I had barely time to make a dash for the third chamber before the fire took complete possession of the middle one. The heat and the smoke were terrible. I made a spring for the farther wall in order to try to force my way through the roof, which at this, the extreme, end of the house had not yet caught alight. Three times did I make the attempt, but each time fell back, unable to get a hand-hold on the top of the wall. At the third attempt, on staggering back, my foot got entangled in one of the mats that were lying on the floor and I tripped and fell, half fainting from the terrible smoke and heat. As I went down the mats seemed to give way, and with great force the lower half of my body--my left hip and leg--struck against the side of some kind of cavity, into which I found I had half fallen, for, whilst I had come on the floor with my hands, the rest of me swung into space. In that moment I understood, to some extent, why that house held such strange echoes.

The roaring flames overhead and the dense, stifling smoke, that, but for the excitement of my fall, would already have rendered me unconscious, now precluded any possible thought of making my escape through any of the rooms of the house, and so I turned my attention to my latest discovery, hoping against hope that it would enable me to save my life. The sides of the well seemed to be made of smooth, hardened earth, and were damp and covered with slime. Using all my strength, I let myself down to the full length of my arms until I hung well below the level of the floor. Here I managed to draw one of the mats over my head, and clung to the walls of that gloomy pit like a beetle. Kicking against the sides with the toes of my boots, I managed to make holes in the hard clay, large enough to allow of my resting my feet sufficiently to take off some of the strain from my fingers and arms. What my thoughts were at that time I do not pretend to know; I do not think I had any. For the time being I was no better than any other beetle, clinging desperately to the side of the pit, of the depth of which I had no idea. A cold, damp draught of foul air seemed to blow up from below me, and a mouldy stench sickened my nostrils.

Suddenly my dulled senses were awakened by a tremendous crash, accompanied by much hissing and spluttering, and the red light above the mat covering my head went out. As I looked up, wondering what this could mean, something fell upon the mats, forcing the one directly over me inwards and sending it floating down past me into the darkness beneath. The falling object also crushed my right hand at the same time, and the sudden pain caused me to loose my hold, so that for one awful moment I dangled helplessly, suspended only by my left hand, over that reeking pit.

Having secured another hand-hold, I stared anxiously up through the smoke. The cause of all the commotion, I discovered, was a burning rafter, all blackened and charred, which had toppled down when the roof collapsed. The fall of the thatch appeared to have temporarily quenched the fire, and it seemed as good an opportunity of escape as I was likely to get, so, drawing myself up by my left hand, I managed to get my right arm round the still smouldering beam and, with a supreme effort, dragged myself out of the mouth of the well once more, getting astride of the charred and smoking beam, and thence on to the floor. Bruised and scorched, with my clothes burning and my helmet gone, I managed to clamber up the wall of the room by means of the many pieces of blackened and half-burnt bamboo that had come down with the roof, and flung myself recklessly over the farther side. I fell on my back, and by rights ought to have had some bones broken, but somehow I escaped with a few severe contusions. Picking myself up, I rushed through the flaming compound, with red-hot ashes swirling about my face, acrid smoke filling my lungs, and my eyes streaming water from the fearful heat. Escaping by a miracle more than once, as a roof collapsed or a wall fell out with a crash across my path, and leaping over the bodies of natives at every turn, I eventually emerged into the market-place more dead than alive.

The troops were formed in square as I had left them. Men were issuing from the burning compounds, singly and in twos and threes. All firing had ceased, and not a native of the place was to be seen anywhere. As I approached the square at a staggering trot I ran a great risk of being shot, for--as I learnt subsequently--the men were so startled at my appearance that they were seriously thinking of putting a bullet through me. They told me afterwards that I looked more like a devil than anything they had ever seen, and they took me for the fire-spirit that lived in the flames. Some of the coolies even started to bolt, until reassured by their companions and by the sound of my voice.

I ordered the "Fall in" to be sounded, so as to collect my scattered volunteers, and then set about seeing what I could do to ease the horrible pains of my burns. This I accomplished, to some extent, with various ointments that I found in the medicine-chest we had brought with us. I then turned my attention to Townsend. On examining him I found that he had been hit in the shoulder. He had swooned at the time, but was now quite conscious again. We concluded that it was nothing very serious, did what we thought best at the moment, and bandaged the wound up well. Then, with Townsend in a hammock, and carrying our wounded coolies along with us--no soldiers had been hit--we set out for Asaba once more with our prisoner.

After half an hour's marching we met a friendly native, who told us that we were to be ambushed some quarter of a mile farther on. On receipt of this cheerful piece of information we retraced our steps; we had had our fill of fighting for that day, especially as our instructions were to avoid bloodshed if we could possibly do so. The alternative route we determined to take added five miles to our journey, and I shall never forget the weariness and uncertainty of that long _détour_. The knowledge that, at any moment, a stealthy and wary enemy might suddenly start blazing away at us from five yards on either side of the path, which was shut in with dense undergrowth to right and left, surmounted with towering trees, made the journey seem endless, and the strain on our nerves was terrible. We marched for hour after hour in a gloomy twilight; not a single ray of sunlight filtered through the thick leafy canopy overhead. Then, all at once, the path opened out, and to our unutterable joy we entered the principal avenue of Openam. We were in friendly country once more--or as nearly friendly as anything in the Hinterland of Asaba could be.

Here we rested for half an hour, while I attended to Townsend and our other wounded. We then set out on our final march, and without further incident reached Asaba at 8.30 p.m., all utterly tired out, but happy in the consciousness that we had accomplished our mission.

The N.C.O. who had so mysteriously disappeared at Nburu-Kitti, and whom I had given up for lost, arrived at Asaba a few hours after the column. He came to my bedside and woke me from my well-earned sleep, whereupon I stared at him in utter amazement. On asking him to prove that he was not a ghost, he explained that, when he rushed into that end room in pursuit of the flying chief, he pitched headlong down the well and nearly broke his neck. The bottom, however, consisted of oozy mud, which considerably softened his fall. After lying stunned for how long he could not tell, he began to explore the pit, and discovered a tunnel about five feet from the bottom of the well. Crawling into this, he followed it without difficulty until he emerged into another compound beyond that of the chief's. It is to be supposed that the fugitive King must have made his escape in the same manner, but, as the N.C.O. naively said, he did not wait to inquire.

ROUND THE WORLD WITH A BILLIARD CUE.

BY MELBOURNE INMAN, BRITISH BILLIARD ASSOCIATION CHAMPION.

In this amusing article the well-known professional describes
some of the curious experiences that befell him during his
recent tour round the world--a tour on which his "only visible
means of support" was his cue. He met all sorts and conditions
of men, and--what was more important--all sorts and conditions
of billiard-tables, but, as this narrative shows, managed to
extract not a little amusement from his misadventures.

The hundred and one minor accidents which occur in the average globe-trotter's journeyings were, in my case, added to and enlarged by the fact that to a certain extent my tour depended upon the amount of patronage I received. To travel round the world with a billiard cue and case as one's only visible means of support is an undertaking which requires a considerable amount of doing. That I succeeded so well I put down to the fact that the Britisher abroad is a sportsman of the best sort, and will do anything and pay anything to see one of the Mother Country's champions playing his game, no matter what that game may be. During my journey I went completely round the world, visiting Ceylon twice, Australia three times, New Zealand twice, Tasmania, China, the Straits Settlements, India, and Burma, the total distance covered being close on a hundred thousand miles, and the time occupied by the tour over eighteen months.

_From a Photograph._
]

My chief difficulties were the tables which were provided. I did not expect to meet with absolutely correct ones, but sometimes I would be led into a room and introduced to some bedraggled wreck on four or five legs and blandly informed that _that_ was the thing upon which I had to show my powers as a billiard-player! The only thing which saved me from a sudden and total loss of reputation was the fact that my opponent usually did a great deal worse than _I_, and my efforts to avoid the unorthodox pitfalls, such as open gaps in the cloth, grooves at the pockets, and so forth, were seen and appreciated by the habitués of the place who used the table themselves, and were only too familiar with its peculiarities.

My first really amusing adventure occurred at Colombo, Ceylon. I was booked to play a Mr. G----, who was a well-known personage, being sub-editor of the local paper, and had to give him eight hundred start in a game of twelve hundred up. The match took place at the Globe Hotel, and when I entered the room I saw that a good crowd of natives had gathered to watch the game. They were evidently very anxious to see their champion win, and chattered away volubly while the game was in progress. Now silence is indispensable if good billiards is to be played, but I stuck to my work until suddenly dull thuds began to sound on the ceiling above. The lights over the table quivered and danced with the reverberations, and presently, in despair, I called the proprietor to one side and asked him what on earth was happening up there.

"Oh, that's all right," he said, cheerily. "There's a troupe of dancing girls come here to practise every evening, and they are doing it now!"

With a stifled groan I went back to my task, but the din grew louder and louder, and at last became so continuous that I could not hear the marker's voice registering the score, while the vibration was positively alarming. At last, feeling I could endure it no longer, I went over to the marker and informed him that I was going to stop. Handing him my cue, I told him to put it away in my case, as I would play no more.

He took my cue from me and, turning to the spectators, cried, stolidly:--

"There will be an interval of ten minutes for refreshments."

The cool way in which he gave out this announcement tickled me, and I forgot my annoyance. Presently, the landlord having prevailed upon the nautch girls to cease their gyrations, the game was continued.