The Solitary, and How He Hunted Us

I was traveling with Groeneveldt and a totok [19] in the upper basin of the Batang Hari, the great one, which as Djambi River in the Strait of Malaka falls.

It was 1909; only a few military patrols had this regions visited, but from the time of their authority, some years before, when some bad actors in Jambi no longer learned a lesson could do without, the wide footpaths dated to distant villages. So dense were the jungles through which the paths meandered, that there was no grass growing anywhere, and the clay soil was the reason that impressions of the nailed soles of the soldiers for months and had stood for months—a reminder of the power of the white person among the good people, who never meant any harm had.

In the morning we had a black night in the beautiful forest, silent panther surprised, who was enjoying himself along the Rimba boulevard. Our arriving certainly had a swelling rhythm, which did not frighten him had, a rhythm in the air and in the pounding of the ground, but without hurtful voices. But when we in joyful awe, perhaps with a single suppressed sound, suddenly stopped on the bend off the path, he turned his head in surprise. He seemed even slimmer now on the high legs, the threateningly waving, exaggerated one seemed even longer long tail... and he was gone.

And in the afternoon I managed to make a kidjang for our "kitchen" shoot, a roe deer, which is on the salty ashes of a freshly burned ladang came off; for weeks we could enjoy the dèndèng, the spicy spiced and dried meat, especially that of venison so crispy and is tasty.

And when we arrived at the old bivouac after the punishing day, was set up at the time by the military on a stream near a small kampoeng, when we saw how utterly boring everything looked, then we grabbed Groeneveldt and I quickly went to the gun to avoid boredom to avoid. We could still try to find the right one before dark. to find a spot where a boar would be rooting around in a hole lying field, or visit a mango tree on the champion border, which dropped its fruits.

We walked through the entire area; plenty of tracks, but no pigs. Perhaps the oldest one had ever announced that a tiger was in the area? How many times had we noticed that the animals seem to warn each other in an incomprehensible way; we said on often hunt when game was not to be found: "it certainly has “It was in the pig newspaper again that we would be coming!”

It was all wrong that evening. And to make matters worse, suddenly a heavy shower from the sky, just as it was getting dark.

We decided to take shelter under a house built high on stilts, a of the few that made up this settlement.

We heard the wood fire crackling in the fireplace, so there were people in the house. Then we heard soft creaking footsteps, then finally the muffled voice of an old woman, saying that the child now asleep; and then at last they spoke, softly but clearly, always about the child, the pride of grandmother and daughter.

How excluded one feels when one is so relaxed there and hear the soft voices at home and the cozy fire there crackling with cozy warmth and delicious food. And the rain poured down on us from the roof down our noses.

There, far away in the black night, the lightning was not of the air. How much longer should we wait here? and then go to that "cozy" bivouac; first a bath in the muddy water little stream—how slippery the path to the water would be... come, we had to go through after all.

We suddenly nudged each other... what were the women talking about?

“Gadjah toenggal,” a lone wolf, we both heard say; in our hunter brain was suddenly the electric bell passed over... what was said about a solitaire?

The young woman recalled once more what her husband had told. Last night he had a little bit of boeloeh in the short twilight have to cut, to make a fish trap from the split strips at home braids.

It had gotten a bit late, because he had trouble finding a few old to pick out stems of the tough bamboo; he couldn't pick out young ones use, which are too quickly riddled with woodworm.

Just as he bent down to gather the pieces he had cut to length, picking up, he had the feeling that a house was passing right behind him; but he knew at once that it must have been an elephant, absolutely the gigantic solitaire, which has been causing unrest in this region for several weeks now brought and devoured and trampled entire plantations.

We listened breathlessly, tense as a spring.

It was for the man who stood with a large piece of writing paper above his head, kampoeng-parapluie, came home through the rain, a great fright the light of his torch of withered coconut leaf suddenly two to see white people with shining guns standing under his house.

“Kilat” (lightning) escaped him, and he thereby betrayed that he was thought of lightning, and therefore of elephants, whose ivory sheen flickers against the black sky.

But he had already heard of our arrival and was soon over the fright and we immediately had him tell us everything about the solitaire. He was a nice guy and offered to take us into the low woods where it animal usually slept or strolled around in the morning. A plan was made made, and when the rain had stopped, we could put the totok in the cozy bivouac surprise with an invitation to take an elephant with you to go shooting.

At that moment Groeneveldt and I only knew an elephant from the zoo and circus; we were also able to hear some stories from picking up others... well, danger is always on the prowl; it was It's just a pity that this solitaire only had one tooth left; the other had been broken off, our man had told us. But anyway, about the raffle of We would like to discuss that one tooth in more detail...

When the next morning the sun began to shine in the low forest Wherever the solitaire had to stroll, some brave ones crept in, armed men along the little-traveled path. Many against one, several guns threatening death and destruction against the good guy with the one tooth.

At the front our Malay walked silently on his strong, agile feet, a razor-sharp machete in hand, a fearsome weapon in the hand of the man of the forest, who never leaves his house without a spear or percussion weapon.

Behind him walked a graying hadji, a well-known hunter. At the time that the government still paid bounties for killing tigers, he, who as a devout Muslim no longer believed in the bond between the man and the Striped, killed many tigers. He stalked the animals in their sleep, and stopped them with a bullet, or one of a bridge loose nut or other piece of iron in the ear; then he was sure that his old drum charger would not let him down. Now he had leaving his rudder at home, he was ashamed before the Dutch hunters, who are so excellently armed and so brani (courageous)...

Behind the hadji I came, my faithful double barrel from Jan Visser of Deventer in hand. I hadn't counted on elephants at all, I By the way, in those days I didn't have any heavier rifles. Then came the totok, armed with an army rifle, which he had borrowed from a lieutenant, with whom he had made the journey from Holland. Groeneveldt and I were extremely jealous that that gun was in his hands; we we were worried at the thought that he would use it have to make, because he was a good boy, but not a hunter; the The whole history has not been a piece of cake for him.

Groeneveldt, wearing a coquettish hunting hat, closed the procession. Groeneveldt smokes any cigar outside and shoots with any any gun that comes to hand.

He was now armed with a very old Beaumont carbine; how he felt about it neither of us can remember what had happened. But That gun has remained unforgettable for us, because it was a secret discomfort had and at random moments, just when one least wants expected, suddenly went off with a horrible bang; but also, because it saved our lives because of it.

We crept on, already aware of the elephant's proximity. spotted, our Malays read the situation in the tracks.

Now our foreman warned us with a hand gesture to be quiet to be.

Yet another warning gesture. Did the Malays already see something in that? undergrowth? Was he sleeping there? They suggested we sneak, we had never been behind an elephant before, and we crept, as thieves in the night. We responded with silly laughs incomprehensible, excited gestures or facial expressions that say something like that should mean something like "there he is somewhere, he is sleeping", or "if You guys better shoot hard, because we can't do anything!” and such Uplifting things, that, oh wonder, suddenly no longer uplifting at all were.

Now a very urgent gesture, shhh... there... shhh; don't do that now breaking twigs, shhh... where?????... necks stretched long, the noses pale, every nerve a violin string...


“Bang!!!!”


...a terrible shot between us. The totok shrank in lithe body twisting to the left, the right hand gripped in intense fear to the right hip… “oh, God!”

And Groeneveldt, distraught, ashen-gray, looked guilty, but oh! so astonished eyes first at his foreman's hip, then at his gun.

“Hey!” said the totok, “that’s scary!”

“But man, aren’t you hurt???”

“Why, no!”—and we looked at each other, and roared, and cried with the laughing... but Groeneveldt and I still thank our forest gods that a bullet was not a few centimeters more to the left, because the totok had indeed grabbed a bullet, from which he felt the gust of wind had.

The solitaire must have thought some strange things when he silently on the paths they had trodden. But friendly were not his thoughts, and now he made his plans, and he took the pipe.

Soon the Malays had found the fresh tracks, footprints and steaming manure.

We also saw scrapes against trees, where bits of mud rose to the top indications of the shoulders, of the withers. We measured mud patches like that at a height of 2½ meters and a footprint in a damp place a diameter of 43 centimeters. We saw trees with a thigh thickness broken, uprooted... and the enthusiasm rose with every new discovery not, because we no longer have absolute superiority felt, and because the lottery of that one tooth is a little further away from us situated than the previous evening in the bivouac.

We followed him, he led us through heavier forest to a light place, an old ladang, abandoned two years ago and now with poetry storage of about five meters high covered with vegetation, a dorado for a elephant, a feast of the tastiest branches and leaves and bark, before us an impenetrable wall of green.

But he had walked in quietly and lured us along his new path, where the manure balls still steamed. I couldn't shake the feeling to walk into a trap, but what does a man with a gun want in that cases otherwise do not take the risk of hunting big game. After all, hunting should not be just killing. Hunt no, if you dread being in the bad corner yourself have to sit... so go ahead, into the trap, by the way I had to setting an example for young people... but my faithful double barrel started to feel like a prop shooter, and one wonders in such fallen off: what are you doing here!

In tremendous tension we followed the Malays; weren't they afraid? Or did they know exactly where the animal was? Should we now suddenly standing in front of him, and then what? should I do with my double-barreled...

Listen! there the elephant gave the signal I later knew so well, with a a tree fell with a dull blow, the solitaire stood at the edge of the forest on the left from us.

Nervously surprised that he had announced himself so soon, the Malays approach me.

“But isn't that a woodcutter? Such a tree!?”

“No, Toean, that's him!” said the Hadji with a short, quiet laugh.

We already knew he was a giant, but... what a terrible opponent. And yet: how wonderful, how everything within us was dominant the hunting shiver!

That's how I felt later, with a good rifle in my hand, but then...

Was that a bear or an old boar barking? That mighty sound, that it bosch made tremble...

“He has noticed us,” said the hadji, he looked unmoved, but I saw that he was in great tension.

“What now?” I asked softly.

“Wait,” he said curtly, and bent down as if the bushes were something to had to say; he listened to the deathly silence. We stood up about thirty yards from the edge of the forest which we had left, in a glowing, narrow alley with walls of green...

Then came over the silent tops of the undergrowth a confused sound of slow dragging, of creaking and breaking.

The solitaire had us where he wanted us and was now searching in the wind our air. We didn't know what that meant then, but we could not object to Groeneveldt being modest his gun loaded.

We whispered to each other that we would support each other bravely... everyone remembered their sins for a moment.

Suddenly it became quiet, just for a moment. He had found us.

And then the world tore apart in one defiant, screeching roar, the attack trumpet of the evil solitaire, and immediately after that came the impenetrable undergrowth an express train heading straight towards us.

Then I understood exactly what the devilish design of this hunting solitaire, who had turned the tables, and I knew that we were lost if we stood still; we could only get a few meters ahead of us, and nothing could prevent us from the first attack protect.

“Back to the woods!” I shouted. Somewhere next to me I saw one of the Malays slip away between the low bushes, a turban was his in front, also low to the ground.

Then we also went back, we tried to get through the bushes anyway to find the shortest route to the heavy trees of the forest.

Then in the tumult, close to the approaching thunder, came a terrible explosion, and immediately afterward an awful silence...

“Groeneveldt!”

From somewhere in the rough a toneless answer growled, not a sound of despair or fear, but from annoyance and astonishment, and immediately afterwards: "where is he?"

Yes, where was he?

Everyone knew that the solitaire was no more than ten meters away from us was, when the shot was fired. Who had shot, what had happened, and Where was he? Was he watching us for a second attack?

At that time we did not yet know how an elephant could remain completely still rubber soles return along the path he has trodden, if he is afraid becomes; we could not imagine that the colossus, so close us, could walk inaudibly in the threatening silence, that had come in immediately after the shot...

It was only under the trees that we recovered from the surprise, and there the Malays said that the solitaire had gone back.

“Yes... it was that lousy gun again, of course,” said Groeneveldt, "I was scared out of my wits!" And we still didn't understand it right away, that old Beaumont with his discomfort had saved our lives.

“Where is your hat, Groeneveldt?”

“Somewhere over there”... a tired hand gesture towards the explosion.

“Get it then,” I said kindly.

I will never forget the look that was sent to me obliquely and which almost outshone the deep annoyance of the answer… “I would with get this gun and that hat over there?????”...

There are times when one is not susceptible to humor; we were at that time moment at that stage; but it is one of the most precious to us memories from our golden hunting era remain.

A council of war was now held.

It was indeed disastrous that our Malays' heroism had rapidly diminished of the superior white man had attended. Here had to be on the to be bitten with teeth.

And however little the inner strength with which I made the decision pronounced, it was said with pathos that we had to return to the solitaire to look up.

Now my faithful comrade committed insubordination. [20] He said:

“I have always done what I was told, but with this injection that "Beast after it, listen"... and this in a dull, dropping jaw tone...

The Malays knew what to do. They understood where they would find the solitaire could find. Our man would somehow manage to find him. chasing us, and then he could only follow one path.

“Come on!” and the hadji took us to a small hill where some There were climbable trees, just not thick enough to sit safely.

Groeneveldt and I each picked out a tree. The totok looked indecisively, compared the thickness of all the trunks. My tree seemed him the best, and so he climbed after me; the hadji was already halfway the top.

“Hurry up!” I called down, “I see you over there alang-alang burn, that's what our man must have done to chase him down.”

Then the totok got nervous and asked if Groeneveldt's tree wasn't better was, if not thicker then at least tougher... but suddenly I was occupied with something else; over there, not far from the grass fire, two A hundred yards from us, I saw above the edge of a low forest a walking fountain of red earth; then I saw a blowing trunk, then the whole body of a huge elephant became visible with one heavy, brown-yellow tooth. He was apparently furious, turning while blowing back and forth, indecisive.

“There he comes!” we heard our man scream... this made the totok jump making a decision, like an eel he slid down my trunk...

“Sir,” said the hadji, “do you see that clearing, there he is passing, Then shoot, sir!” That spot was a hundred yards from us; I had to at that distance, with a round bullet from my smoothbore, that furious put down the colossus???...

“Quiet!”... the totok scraped loudly with climbing legs and boots along Groeneveldt's trunk... "Hurry up, man!"

At a slow trot came the solitaire, gray-brown of half-dried mud, walking up the bare spot... my shot thundered, but already the hadji called out encouragingly "kena" (hit), I myself had not had the slightest certainty of having made a good shot, and even then!

What came home to us with the greatest certainty, however, was the fact, that our totok was about to commit suicide. About four meters away above the ground, just the most pleasant height for a trunk elephant, two human legs were swinging...

“Hurry up, he’ll be here soon!”

“I can't anymore”...

"Why not?"

“I don't know that”...

“Yes, but you're hanging so high now that”...

“I know that, but I can't do it anymore”...

“Well, my goodness, just keep your legs still”...

Deathly silence, Groeneveldt looked down on the victim, like a Captain over the edge of his bridge, the corners of his mouth twitched suspicious...

Thank God everything remained quiet, the solitaire chose a different path after all.

Only later did we hear that he had walked eight kilometers, through heavy fences and plantations. People who live on a good fenced rice field workers heard a harsh scream and saw their grandmother flying through the air: the solitaire walked her with little house and already upside down.

When we got over the feeling of appropriate shame—we had in very early in the morning we asked our Malays whether their machetes were still available were sharp enough for the tooth—then I asked the hadji how this the beast had become so smart.

I will never forget the sweet grin on the weathered face. “Well Sir, to be honest, we kampung people had already done this seventeen times shot at him. I myself have stood right next to him once and shot him hit under the chin, I shot him twice in the wrists, Nothing helped. But we didn't want to tell you that before, because Then you just laugh at us; you're so clever, and so... brazen!”