it seemed possible that we might be out all night, with overtired horses in the waggon. Moreover, we could not stop, or walk, if we wished it; for the water stood in the grass over the whole prairie, as far as we could see, to the depth of one or two feet. If there had been any track, the water would have concealed it. It was a cloudy night, no star visible, and so gloomy that I should have said, but for experience to the contrary, that we could see nothing but the outline of one another’s heads against the sky. It was slow and wearisome,—the splash of the horses’ feet, and the fizzing of the wheels through the water. To keep ourselves awake, we discussed some public men and measures; when, as I chanced to look down on my side of the waggon, I saw something moving,—a dark creature, trotting slowly at our pace. It was a bear; and a good long view I had of him, till he began to increase his distance, and then disappeared in the darkness. It was most unlikely that he or another should join us again; but I could not help watching for the chance till the rise of some yellow points of light on our horizon showed that we were not to wander all night on the prairie, but were nearing our resting-place.
There were no hunting instincts awakened by the other natural enemies which have come in my way. A comrade and I were tempted one hot day to bathe in the most alluring place imaginable, on the shores of the Red Sea, far away from native dwellings or travellers’ ordinary routes. We had had a general warning against bathing in that sea, on account of sharks; but here the water was so shallow, and there were such slopes and shelves of rock under the clear green water, that we could not imagine any shark venturing into something so like a bath for us and a trap for him. Some cries and shouts, however, disturbed our luxury, as we lay on smooth rocks under water. Some of our Arabs had seen our clothes under a palm clump on the shore, and began to look about for us. They were sorely distressed that they could not get us out instantly. We did not half believe them, and finished our bath; but we found afterwards that they were right enough, that the danger was real, so that nobody, native or foreigner, ever bathes along that reach of the shore. Perhaps we should have done differently if we had known the sensation of seeing a shark, when turned back downwards, ready to seize its prey. We are told that the aspect of the creature is dreadful beyond comparison or description; but my companion and I had never seen a shark, nor have we yet, though we made bold to bathe wherever we pleased, all the way up to Akaba, and when we met the sea again on the coast of Syria.
On the Nile we were of course on the look-out for crocodiles; and we saw plenty; but they did no harm before our eyes. I do not think I could run the risks that we witnessed every day, if I had been such a swimmer as every native is. Not only in the lower part of the river, where no crocodiles come now, but where they so abound that their detestable flat heads and loathsome whitish bellies and stiff tails may be seen on almost every sandspit, men and boys go careering down the stream on a log, or swim slowly across on a bundle of reeds, or down in the water so that only their heads and their arms, going like the sails of a windmill, are seen. I could not, if ever so much at home in the water, have launched out into so broad a river, so full of crocodiles. They do not seem to be quite so mischievous as the Indian alligators; but there are accidents enough happening there, from time to time, to make it natural that Englishmen in Upper Egypt shoot a good deal more than they bathe. It is amusing to see the eagerness of my countrymen to shoot a crocodile, the vexation of those who have not carried suitable ball, and the rivalship between competing parties. From what I heard, and from the triumph I witnessed in one party, and the low spirits of another at that triumph, I should suppose the shooting of a crocodile to be a somewhat rare achievement. It is, indeed, no easy matter to get an aim at the vulnerable part, under the forearm.
In those regions, I think, there was besides only the howling of the jackals at night to remind us of wild beasts. We were kept in mind of the wonderful instinct of natural antipathy by the scorpions we had to beware of in the desert. When the tent was pitched, the dragoman entered, tongs in hand, and turned over every stone within the enclosure. We watched the process, and when one scorpion was found, or possibly two, we were surprised to observe how our antipathy grew with every one we looked at, as it writhed its disgusting tail in the tongs.
It is very striking to observe, in travelling from one quarter of the world to another, how all nations take for granted that Englishmen can cope with their natural enemies, and will be willing to do so. The Germans were perhaps the foremost huntsmen in old times. The Americans show, by what they do in the Western States, how strong the instinct is in them, though it does not appear in the seabord States, or in those of their people whom we see on their travels. To see it, we must go to them, and watch an ambush for a panther in some new clearing, or an onset on a herd of buffalo, or an expedition against a mischievous bear. I will say nothing of the fiercer instinct which is called into play by any provocation to Indian hunting. That phase of human passion is too fearful to be lightly touched. As for other game, Americans in the Far West are very like Englishmen at the Pole, when bears come prowling round their ship at night, or whalers, when the spout is seen coming nearer over the heaving sea; but we see no more of the spirit of sport, in its grave sense of warfare with the wild enemies of man, in the ordinary run of travelled Americans, than in our own cockney countrymen who visit the Rhine in autumn.
When these natural enemies become too mischievous for endurance, it is the English who are petitioned to afford deliverance. At least, this is the case in southern countries. There has been plenty of astonishment in Norway, Sweden, and Iceland at the adventurous character of Englishmen; and their ardour in the pursuit of glaciers and capercailzie, of geysers and reindeer, of Laps and salmon, has fired the curiosity of the people: but those people have themselves been always adequate
