Chapter 2. First Thoughts Of Hunting

________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER TWO. FIRST THOUGHTS OF HUNTING

As I told you, my uncle had no children, and the great house at Streatham was always very quiet. In fact one of my aunt's strict injunctions was that she should not be disturbed by any noise of mine. But aunt had her pets--Buzzy, and Nap.

Buzzy was the largest striped tom-cat, I think, that I ever saw, and very much to my aunt's annoyance he became very fond of me, so much so that if he saw me going out in the garden he would leap off my aunt's lap, where she was very fond of nursing him, stroking his back, beginning with his head and ending by drawing his tail right through her hand; all of which Buzzy did not like, but he would lie there and swear, trying every now and then to get free, but only to be held down and softly whipped into submission.

Buzzy decidedly objected to being nursed, and as soon as he could get free he would rush after me down the garden, where he would go bounding along, arching his back, and setting up the fur upon his tail. Every now and then he would hide in some clump, and from thence charge out at me, and if I ran after him, away he would rush up a tree trunk, and then crouch on a branch with glowing eyes, tearing the while with his claws at the bark as if in a tremendous state of excitement, ready to bound down again, and race about till he was tired, after which I had only to stoop down and say, "Come on," when he would leap on to my back and perch himself upon my shoulder, purring softly as I carried him round the grounds.

I used to have some good fun, too, with Nap, when my aunt was out; but she was so jealous of her favourite's liking for me that at last I never used to have a game with Nap when she was at home.

Buzzy could come out and play quietly, but Nap always got to be so excited, lolling out his tongue and yelping and barking with delight as he tore round after me, pretending to bite and worry me, and rolling over and over, and tumbling head over heels as he capered and bounded about.

I think Nap was the ugliest dog I ever saw, for he was one of those dirty white French poodles, and my aunt used to have him clipped, to look like a lion, as she said, and have him washed with hot soap and water every week.

Nothing pleased Nap better than to go out in the garden with me, but I got into sad trouble about it more than once.

"Look at him, Joseph," my aunt would say, "it's just as if it was done on purpose to annoy me. Beautifully washed as he was yesterday, and now look at him with his curly mane all over earth, and with bits of straw and dead leaves sticking in it. If you don't send that boy away to a boarding-school I won't stay in the house."

Then my uncle would look troubled, and take me into his own room, where he kept his books and garden seeds.

"You mustn't do it, Nat, my boy, indeed you mustn't. You see how it annoys your aunt."

"I didn't think I was doing any harm, uncle," I protested. "Nap jumped out of the window, and leaped up at me as if he wanted a game, and I only raced round the garden with him."

"You didn't rub the earth and dead leaves in his coat then, Nat?" said my uncle.

"Oh no!" I said; "he throws himself on his side and pushes himself along, rubs his head on the ground, sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other. I think it's because he has got f--"

"Shush! Hush! my dear boy," cried my uncle, clapping his hand over my lips. "If your aunt for a moment thought that there were any insects in that dog, she would be ill."

"But I'm sure that there are some in his coat, uncle," I said, "for if you watch him when he's lying on the hearth-rug to-night, every now and then he jumps up and snaps at them, and bites the place."

"Shush! yes, my boy," he whispered; "but don't talk about it. Your aunt is so particular. It's a secret between us."

I couldn't help smiling at him, and after a moment or two he smiled at me, and then patted me on the shoulder.

"Don't do anything to annoy your aunt, my boy," he said; "I wouldn't play with Nap if I were you."

"I'll try not to, uncle," I said; "but he will come and coax me to play with him sometimes."

"H'm! yes," said my uncle thoughtfully, "and it does do him good, poor dog. He eats too much, and gets too fat for want of exercise. Suppose you only play with him when your aunt goes out for a walk."

"Very well, uncle," I said, and then he shook hands with me, and gave me half a crown.

I couldn't help it, I was obliged to spend that half-crown in something I had been wanting for weeks. It was a large crossbow that hung up in the toy-shop window in Streatham, and that bow had attracted my attention every time I went out.

To some boys a crossbow would be only a crossbow, but to me it meant travels in imagination all over the world. I saw myself shooting apples off boys' heads, transfixing eagles in their flight, slaying wild beasts, and bringing home endless trophies of the chase, so at the first opportunity I was off to the shop, and with my face glowing with excitement and delight I bought and took home the crossbow.

"Hallo, Nat!" said Uncle Joseph. "Why, what's that--a crossbow?"

"Yes, uncle; isn't it a beauty?" I cried excitedly.

"Well, yes, my boy," he said; "but, but--how about your aunt? Suppose you were to break a window with that, eh? What should we do?"

"But I won't shoot in that direction, uncle," I promised.

"Or shoot out Jane's or Cook's eye? It would be very dreadful, my boy."

"Oh, yes, uncle," I cried; "but I will be so careful, and perhaps I may shoot some of the birds that steal the cherries."

"Ah! yes, my boy, so you might," he said rubbing his hands softly. "My best bigarreaus. Those birds are a terrible nuisance, Nat, that they are. You'll be careful, though?"

"Yes, I'll be careful, uncle," I said; and he went away nodding and smiling, while I went off to Clapham Common to try the bow and the short thick arrows supplied therewith.

It was glorious. At every twang away flew the arrow or the piece of tobacco-pipe I used instead; and at last, after losing one shaft in the short turf, I found myself beside the big pond over on the far side, one that had the reputation of being full of great carp and eels.

My idea here was to shoot the fish, but as there were none visible to shoot I had to be content with trying to hit the gliding spiders on the surface with pieces of tobacco-pipe as long as they lasted, for I dared not waste another arrow, and then with my mind full of adventures in foreign countries I walked home.

The next afternoon my aunt went out, and I took the bow down the garden, leaving my uncle enjoying his pipe. I had been very busy all that morning, it being holiday time, in making some fresh arrows for a purpose I had in view, and, so as to be humane, I had made the heads by cutting off the tops of some old kid gloves, ramming their finger-ends full of cotton-wool, and then tying them to the thin deal arrows, so that each bolt had a head like a little soft leather ball.

"Those can't hurt him," I said to myself; and taking a dozen of these bolts in my belt I went down the garden, with Buzzy at my heels, for a good tiger-hunt.

For the next half-hour Streatham was nowhere, and that old-fashioned garden with its fruit-trees had become changed into a wild jungle, through which a gigantic tiger kept charging, whose doom I had fixed. Shot after shot I had at the monster--once after it had bounded into the fork of a tree, another time as it was stealing through the waving reeds, represented by the asparagus bed. Later on, after much creeping and stalking, with the tiger stalking me as well as springing out at me again and again, but never getting quite home, I had a shot as it was lurking beside the great lake, represented by our tank. Here its striped sides were plainly visible, and, going down on hands and knees, I crept along between two rows of terrible thorny trees that bore sweet juicy berries in the season, but which were of the wildest nature now, till I could get a good aim at the monster's shoulder, and see its soft lithe tail twining and writhing like a snake.

I crept on, full of excitement, for a leafy plant that I refused to own as a cabbage no longer intercepted my view. Then lying flat upon my chest I fitted an arrow to my bow, and was cautiously taking aim, telling myself that if I missed I should be seized by the monster, when some slight sound I made caused it to spring up, presenting its striped flank for a target as it gazed here and there.

Play as it was, it was all intensely real to me; and in those moments I was as full of excitement as if I had been in some distant land and in peril of my life.

Then, after long and careful aim, twang went the bow, and to my intense delight the soft-headed arrow struck the monster full in the flank, making it bound up a couple of feet and then pounce upon the bolt, and canter off at full speed towards a dense thicket of scarlet-runners.

"Victory, victory!" I cried excitedly; "wounded, wounded!" and I set off in chase, but approaching cautiously and preparing my bow again, for I had read that the tiger was most dangerous when in the throes of death.

I forget what I called the scarlet-runner thicket, but by some eastern name, and drawing nearer I found an opportunity for another shot, which missed.

Away bounded Buzzy, evidently enjoying the fun, and I after him, to find him at bay beneath a currant bush.

I was a dozen yards away in the central path, and, of course, in full view of the upper windows of the house; but if I had noted that fact then, I was so far gone in the romance of the situation that I daresay I should have called the house the rajah's palace. As it was I had forgotten its very existence in the excitement of the chase.

"This time, monster, thou shalt die," I cried, as I once more fired, making Buzzy leap into the path, and then out of sight amongst the cabbages.

"Hurray! hurray!" I shouted, waving my crossbow above my head, "the monster is slain! the monster is slain!"

There was a piercing shriek behind me, and I turned, bow in hand, to find myself face to face with my aunt. _

Read next: Chapter 3. How I Hunted The Lion In No-Man's-Land And What Followed

Read previous: Chapter 1. Why I Went To My Uncle's

Table of content of Nat the Naturalist: A Boy's Adventures in the Eastern Seas


GO TO TOP OF SCREEN

Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book