Shortly after his departure
Mahommed heard the report of a gun in that direction about half a mile
distant, and leaving his charge, he ran towards the spot. On arrival, he
found the village deserted, and on searching the neighbourhood, and
vainly calling Richarn, he came upon a large pool of blood opposite
several huts; lying upon the blood was the broken ramrod of Richarn's
gun. After searching without success, he had returned with the
melancholy report of this disaster. I was very fond of Richarn; he had
followed me faithfully for years, and with fewer faults than most of his
race, he had exhibited many sterling qualities. I waited for two days in
this spot, searching for him in all directions. On one occasion my men
saw a number of men and women howling in a village not far from the
place where the accident had happened; on the approach of my people they
fled into the jungles: thus, there was no doubt that Richarn must have
shot a man before he had been killed, as the natives were mourning for
the dead.
I was much distressed at this calamity; my faithful Richarn was dead,
and the double-barrelled Purdey that he carried was lost; this belonged
to my friend Oswell, of South African and Lake Ngami celebrity; it was a
much-prized weapon, with which he had hunted for five years all the
heavy game of Africa with such untiring zeal that much of the wood of
the stock was eaten away by the "wait a bit" thorns in his passage on
horseback at full speed through the jungles.
Pages:
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610