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Off to the Wilds, a fiction by George Manville Fenn

Chapter 45. A Flight From A Fly

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_ CHAPTER FORTY FIVE. A FLIGHT FROM A FLY

There was no time to lose, for, to the dismay of all, Peter announced that he had found tsetse fly that afternoon upon the two horses that had been grazing near the waggon.

"Three horses gone, boys," said Mr Rogers. "It is a bad job; but it would have been worse if it had happened to your pets. We must be well on the way back into a more wholesome country before day, so lie down and have a rest at once. The General or the boys shall go on with you, so that you may try to save your nags. I'll come on with the rest."

"But your horses don't seem any the worse for it, father," said Dick.

"No, my boy, and it may not show for days; but the poison will work, and they will gradually grow weaker and weaker. They are all doomed."

"But is there no cure for it, father?"

"None that I know of, my boys; and it must act as a preventative to the opening out of this grand country to civilisation, unless man can improve these poisonous little pests off the face of the earth."

"It is wonderful," cried Dick; "such a little fly to do so much mischief."

Coffee and Chicory aroused them hours before it was day, and with the understanding that they were to keep on till night straight back upon their old track, the boys started, enjoying to a certain extent the journey without the waggon, but feeling the awful loneliness of the country now more and more.

They made the best of their way on, however, getting over all the ground possible, not halting till it was almost dark, and hardly leaving themselves time to collect enough wood for a roaring fire, which they kept blazing turn and turn, for they were in a place where from the sounds they heard lions seemed to be plentiful once more.

The next morning they were able to add some guinea-fowl and a little gazelle to their scanty store of dried meat, and as they had nothing now to do but wait for the coming of the waggon, they amused themselves by exploring a little here and there as their horses grazed, their ramble resulting in the discovery of many beautiful flowers and insects, such as they had not seen before.

That day went by, but still no waggon arrived; and as they again made up their roaring fire, the boys felt no little uneasiness, till they began to recall what a slow leisurely crawl was that of the ox-team, and that they had come over the greater part of their journey at a brisk canter, with which, by holding on to the cob's mane, the two Zulu boys seemed to have no difficulty in keeping up.

But all doubts were solved the next morning by the arrival of the waggon, those who accompanied it being only too ready to join in the roast ready for breakfast.

There had been no delay; the length of time was only due to the slow progress of the oxen; and this slow progress continued, as, avoiding the back track, they made their way by another route to where King Moseti was ready to receive them with open arms, and was made happy by the presentation of some of the surplus store of beads and other trifles, Mr Rogers retaining merely enough for their wants on the way back.

The king was eager enough to be generous in turn, presenting his guests with several tusks aid some beautiful skins and ostrich feathers, which added in no little decree to the travellers' store.

Here Mr Rogers shot a couple of hippopotami, and the boys made some good practice amongst the hideous crocodiles that were every day killing some one or other of the king's subjects. Now it was a girl gone down to draw water; at another time a boy venturing to bathe. And the travellers could not help admiring the love of cleanliness amongst these people, for too often they had to risk their lives for the sake of a bathe.

The horses had now begun to show signs of having been bitten by the tsetse fly, the chestnut and grey displaying roughened skins and a general uneasiness; while the bay, though slightly roughened about the coat, still held out.

They lost no time then in getting on with their journey southwards, meeting with plenty of vicissitudes in the shape of hunger, heat, and thirst, but taking these calmly, along with the good things; and at last the Limpopo was once more reached.

The reader of this, who knows how easily a person may have his tea in London and his breakfast the next morning in Scotland--400 miles--may be surprised to hear that to get over such a distance in South Africa with a heavy waggon and an ox-team takes over a month; and a driver and foreloper would consider that they had done well if they had achieved so much.

For hurrying means losing ground. The oxen must be kept well-fed with good pasture, and not overworked, or in a few hours sores will be produced by the harsh yokes that will take a month to cure, if they ever heal at all.

But the country was grand, and the weather exceptionally lovely, as they made their way southward, crossing the Limpopo without accident, in spite of the crocodiles, Dinny managing to get a place on the top of the waggon-tilt just before they started to ford the stream.

"Why, what are you doing there, Dinny?" cried Dick, who was the first to see him.

"Shure, Masther Dick, dear, I was feared for these valuable skins that lie stretched out here, for I says to meself, 'Dinny,' I says, 'if the masther was to have thim skins slip off into the dirthy river, he'd never forgive himself.'"

So amidst a good deal of laughter Dinny crossed over the crocodile river on the top of the tilt; while, as much alarmed as he, the dogs, taught by experience, kept close behind the aftermost oxen's heels, swimming with the protection of the waggon-wheels on either side.

Mr Rogers proposed that they should go back by way of the district where there were some curious caves, saying that it would be a pity to be within reach and not to see them. So with the intent of making a halt near them, the General announcing his intention of finding the place, though he had never been there before, the return journey was continued.

This return journey was, as maybe supposed, one of months, but it was not uneventful. The constant demands of the larder rendered hunting necessary almost every day; and in these hunting expeditions beautiful skins, and horns of great size and peculiarity, were obtained. Every day, too, added to the collection of gorgeously-plumaged birds and bright beetles; several times over, too, they were able to add a goodly bundle of ostrich plumes to the store.

It may sound strange, but over this even Dinny felt aggrieved, coming to Dick coolly enough one night, just before sleeping time, with,--

"Would ye mind handing me out two or three of thim bundles o' feathers, Masther Dick, dear?"

"What for, Dinny?" he asked in astonishment.

"An' is it what for?" said Dinny indignantly; "shure, an' ye wouldn't have a boy slape on the bare flure, when ye've got hapes of feather to make beds with inside?"

Poor Dinny was sent to the right about, and the feathers had a very narrow escape the very next day from being burned to blackened ashes. _

Read next: Chapter 46. The Bay Runs His Last Race

Read previous: Chapter 44. Elephants In Sight

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