When we had waited about a quarter of an hour Hans said:
“Hist! Goose comes.”
As he spoke, though as yet I could not see the bird, I heard its cry of “Honk, honk” and the swish of its strong wings.
Then it appeared, an old spur-winged gander, probably the king of the flock, flying so low that it only cleared the cliff edge by about twenty feet, and passed over not more than thirty yards up, an easy shot. Pereira fired, and down it came rather slowly, falling a hundred yards or so behind him, while Retief said:
“One for our side.”
Pereira loaded again, and just as he had capped his rifle three more geese, also flying low, came over, preceded by a number of ducks, passing straight above us, as they must do owing to the shape of the gap between the land waves of the veld above through which they flighted. Pereira shot, and to my surprise, the second, not the first, bird fell, also a good way behind him.
“Did you shoot at that goose, or the other, nephew?” asked Retief.
“At that one for sure,” he answered with a laugh.
“He lies,” muttered the Hottentot; “he shot at the first and killed the second.”
“Be silent,” I answered. “Who would lie about such a thing?”
Again Pereira loaded. By the time that he was ready more geese were approaching, this time in a triangle of seven birds, their leader being at the point of the triangle, which was flying higher than those that had gone before. He fired, and down came not one bird, but two, namely, the captain and the goose to the right of and a little behind it.
“Ah! uncle,” exclaimed Pereira, “did you see those birds cross each other as I pulled? That was a lucky one for me, but I won’t count the second if the Heer Allan objects.”
“No, I did not, nephew,” answered Retief, “but doubtless they must have done so, or the same bullet could not have pierced both.”
Both Hans and I only looked at each other and laughed. Still we said nothing.
From the spectators under the cliff there came a murmur of congratulation not unmixed with astonishment. Again Pereira loaded, aimed, and loosed at a rather high goose—it may have been about seventy yards in the air. He struck it right enough, for the feathers flew from its breast; but to my astonishment the bird, after swooping down as though it were going to fall, recovered itself and flew away straight out of sight.
“Tough birds, these geese!” exclaimed Pereira. “They can carry as much lead as a sea-cow.”
“Very tough indeed,” answered Retief doubtfully. “Never before did I see a bird fly away with an ounce ball through its middle.”
“Oh! he will drop dead somewhere,” replied Pereira as he rammed his powder down.
Within four minutes more Pereira had fired his two remaining shots, selecting, as he was entitled to do, low and easy young geese that came over him slowly. He killed them both, although the last of them, after falling, waddled along the ground into a tuft of high grass.
Now murmurs of stifled applause broke from the audience, to which Pereira bowed in acknowledgment.
“You will have to shoot very well, Mynheer Allan,” said Retief to me, “if you want to beat that. Even if I rule out one of the two birds that fell to a single shot, as I think I shall, Hernan has killed five out of six, which can scarcely be bettered.”
“Yes,” I answered; “but, mynheer, be so good as to have those geese collected and put upon one side. I don’t want them mixed up with mine, if I am lucky enough to bring any down.”
He nodded, and some Kaffirs were sent to bring in the geese. Several of these, I noted, were still flapping and had to have their necks twisted, but at the time I did not go to look at them. While this was being done I called to Retief, and begged him to examine the powder and bullets I was about to use.
“What’s the good?” he asked, looking at me curiously. “Powder is powder, and a bullet is a bullet.”
“None, I dare say. Still, oblige me by looking at them, my uncle.”
Then at my bidding Hans took six bullets and placed them in his hand, begging him to return them to us as they were wanted.
“They must be a great deal smaller than Hernan’s,” said Retief, “who, being stronger, uses a heavier gun.”
“Yes,” I answered briefly, as Hans put the charge of powder into the rifle, and drove home the wad. Then, taking a bullet from Retief’s hand, he rammed that down on to the top of it, capped the gun, and handed it to me.
By now the geese were coming thick, for the flight was at its full. Only, either because some of those that had already passed had sighted the Kaffirs collecting the fallen birds and risen—an example which the others noted from afar and followed—or because in an unknown way warning of their danger had been conveyed to them, they were flying higher and faster than the first arrivals.
“You will have the worst of it, Allan,” said Retief. “It should have been shot and shot about.”
“Perhaps,” I answered, “but that can’t be helped now.”
Then I rose from my stool, the rifle in my hand. I had not long to wait, for presently over came a wedge of geese nearly a hundred yards up. I aimed at the first fellow, holding about eight yards ahead of him to allow for his pace, and pressed. Next second I heard the clap of the bullet, but alas! it had only struck the outstretched beak, of which a small portion fell to the ground. The bird itself, after wavering a second, resumed its place as leader of the squad and passed away apparently unharmed.
“Baas, baas,” whispered Hans as he seized the rifle and began to re-load, “you were too far in front. These big water-birds do not travel as fast as the rock pigeons.”
I nodded, wishing to save my breath. Then, quivering with excitement, for if I missed the next shot the match appeared to be lost, presently I took the rifle from his hand.
Scarcely had I done so when a single goose came over quite as high as the others and travelling “as though the black devil had kicked it,” as Retief said. This time I allowed the same space to compensate for the object’s increased speed and pressed.
Down it came like a stone, falling but a little way behind me with its head knocked off.
“Baas, baas,” whispered Hans, “still too far in front. Why aim at the eye when you have the whole body?”
Again I nodded, and at the same time heaved a sigh of relief. At least the match was still alive. Soon a large flight came over, mixed up with mallard and widgeon. I took the right-hand angle bird, so that it could not be supposed I had “browned the lot,” as here in England they say of one who fires at a covey and not at a particular partridge. Down he came, shot straight through the breast. Then I knew that I had got my nerve, and felt no more fear.
To cut a long story short, although two of them were extremely difficult and high, one being, I should say, quite a hundred and twenty yards above me, and the other by no means easy, I killed the next three birds one after the other, and I verily believe could have killed a dozen more without a miss, for now I was shooting as I had never shot before.
“Say, nephew Allan,” asked Retief curiously in the pause between the fifth and sixth shots, “why do your geese fall so differently to Hernan’s?”
“Ask him! don’t talk to me,”