Florian Was Quite Incapable Of Hunting, As He Was In A Weak State
Of Health, And Had For Some Months Been Suffering From Chronic
Dysentery.
I had several times cured him, but, as Barrake
insisted upon eating fruit, so he had a weakness for
The
strongest black coffee, which, instead of drinking, like the
natives, in minute cups, he swallowed wholesale in large basins,
several times a day; this was actual poison with his complaint,
and he was completely ruined in health. He had excellent
servants,--Richarn, whom I subsequently engaged, who was my only
faithful man in my journey up the White Nile, and two good
Dongalowas.
At this time, his old companion, Johann Schmidt, the carpenter,
arrived, having undertaken a contract to provide, for the Italian
Zoological Gardens, a number of animals. I therefore proposed
that the two old friends should continue together, while I would
hunt by myself, with the aggageers, towards the east and south.
This arrangement was agreed to, and we parted. In the following
season, I engaged this excellent man, Johann Schmidt, as my
lieutenant for the White Nile expedition, on the banks of which
fatal river he now lies, with the cross that I erected over his
grave.
Poor Florian at length recovered from his complaint, but was
killed by a lion. He had wounded an elephant, which on the
following morning he found dead; a lion had eaten a portion
during the night. While he was engaged with his men in extracting
the tusks, one of his hunters (a Tokroori) followed the track of
the lion on the sand, and found the animal lying beneath a bush;
he fired a single-barrelled rifle, and wounded it in the thigh.
He at once returned to his master, who accompanied him to the
spot, and the lion was found lying under the same bush, licking
the wound. Florian fired and missed; the lion immediately
crouched for a spring; Florian fired his remaining barrel, the
ball merely grazed the lion, who almost in the same instant
bounded forward, and struck him upon the head with a fearful blow
of the paw, at the same time it seized him by the throat.
The Tokroori hunter, instead of flying from the danger, placed
the muzzle of his rifle to the lion's ear, and blew its brains
out on the body of his master. The unfortunate Florian had been
struck dead, and great difficulty was found in extracting the
claws of the lion, which had penetrated the skull. Florian,
although a determined hunter, was an exceedingly bad shot, and
withal badly armed for encounters with dangerous game; I had
frequently prophesied some calamity from the experience I had had
in a few days' shooting in his society, and most unhappily my
gloomy prediction was fulfilled.
This was the fate of two good and sterling Germans, who had been
my companions in this wild country, where degrees of rank are
entirely forgotten, provided a man be honest and true.
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