Title: The Giraffe Hunters
Author: Reid, Mayne, 1818-1883
Language: English
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The Giraffe Hunters, by Captain Mayne Reid.



CHAPTER ONE.

ARRIVAL AT THE PROMISED LAND.

In that land of which we have so many records of early and high
civilisation, and also such strong evidences of present barbarism,--the
land of which we know so much and so little,--the land where Nature
exhibits some of her most wonderful creations and greatest contrasts,
and where she is also prolific in the great forms of animal and
vegetable life,--there, my young reader, let us wander once more.  Let
us return to Africa, and encounter new scenes in company with old
friends.

On the banks of the Limpopo brightly blazes a hunter's fire, around
which the reader may behold three distinct circles of animated beings.
The largest is composed of horses, the second of dogs, and the lesser or
inner one, of young men, whom many of my readers will recognise as old
acquaintances.

I have but to mention the names of Hans and Hendrik Von Bloom, Groot
Willem and Arend Van Wyk, to make known that _The Young Yagers_ are
again on a hunting expedition.  In the one in which we now encounter
them, not all the parties are inspired by the same hopes and desires.

The quiet and learned Hans Von Bloom, like many colonial youths, is
affected with the desire of visiting the home of his forefathers.  He
wishes to go to Europe for the purpose of making some practical use of
the knowledge acquired, and the floral collections made, while a
_Bush-Boy_ and a _Young Yager_.  But before doing so, he wishes to
enlarge his knowledge of natural history by making one more expedition
to a part of Southern Africa he has not yet visited.

He knows that extensive regions of his native land, containing large
rivers and immense forests, and abounding in a vast variety of rare
plants, lie between the rivers Limpopo and Zambezi, and before visiting
Europe he wishes to extend his botanic researches in that direction.
His desire to make his new excursion amid the African wilds is no
stronger than that of "Groot Willem" Van Wyk, who ever since his return
from the last expedition, six months before, has been anxious to
undertake another in quest of game such as he has not yet encountered.

Our readers will search in vain around the camp-fire for little Jan and
Klaas.  Their parents would not consent to their going so far from home,
on an excursion promising so many hardships and so much danger.
Besides, it was necessary that they should become something better than
mere _Bush-Boys_, by spending a few years at school.

The two young cornets, Hendrik Von Bloom and Arend Van Wyk, each
endeavouring to wear the appearance of old warriors, are present in the
camp.  Although both are passionately fond of a sportsman's life, each,
for certain reasons, had refrained from urging the necessity or
advantage of the present expedition.

They would have preferred remaining at home and trying to find amusement
during the day with the inferior game to be found near Graaf Reinet,--
not that they fear danger or were in any way entitled to the appellation
of "cockney sportsmen"; but home has an attraction for them that the
love of adventure cannot wholly eradicate.

Hendrik Von Bloom could have stayed very happily at home.  The
excitement of the chase, which on former occasions he had so much
enjoyed, now no longer attracts him half so much as the smiles of
Wilhelmina Van Wyk, the only sister of his friends Groot Willem and
Arend.

The latter young gentleman would not have travelled far from the daily
society of little Truey Von Bloom, had he been left to his own
inclinations.  But Willem and Hans had determined upon seeking
adventures farther to the north than any place they had yet visited; and
hence the present expedition.

The promise of sport and rare adventures, added to the fear of ridicule
should they remain at home, influenced Hendrik and Arend to accompany
the great hunter and the naturalist to the banks of the Limpopo.

Seated near the fire are two other individuals, whom the readers of _The
Young Yagers_ will recognise as old acquaintances.  One is the short,
stout, heavy-headed Bushman, Swartboy, who could not have been coaxed to
remain behind while his young masters Hans and Hendrik were out in
search of adventures.

The other personage not mentioned by name is Congo, the Kaffir.

The Limpopo River was too far from Graaf Reinet for the young hunters to
think of reaching it with wagons and oxen.  The journey might be made,
but it would take up too much time; and they were impatient to reach
what Groot Willem had long called "The Promised Land."

In order, therefore, to do their travelling in as little time as
possible, they had taken no oxen; but, mounted on good horses, had
hastened by the nearest route to the banks of the Limpopo, avoiding in
place of seeking adventures by the way.  Besides their own
saddle-horses, six others were furnished with pack-saddles, and lightly
laden with ammunition, clothing, and such other articles as might be
required.  The camp where we now encounter them is a temporary
halting-place on the Limpopo.  They have succeeded in crossing the
river, and are now on the borders of that land so long represented to
them as being a hunter's paradise.  A toilsome journey is no longer
before them; but only amusement, of a kind so much appreciated that they
have travelled several hundred miles to enjoy it.

We have stated that, in undertaking this expedition, the youths were
influenced by different motives.  This was to a great extent true; and
yet they had a common purpose beside that of mere amusement.  The consul
for the Netherlands had been instructed by his government to procure a
young male and female giraffe, to be forwarded to Europe.  Five hundred
pounds had been offered for the pair safely delivered either at Cape
Town or Port Natal; and several parties of hunters that had tried to
procure these had failed.  They had shot and otherwise killed
camelopards by the score, but had not succeeded in capturing any young
ones alive.

Our hunters had left home with the determination to take back a pair of
young giraffes, and to pay all expenses of their expedition by this, as
also by the sale of hippopotamus teeth.  The hope was not an
unreasonable one.  They knew that fortunes had been made in procuring
elephants' tusks, and also that the teeth of the hippopotamus were the
finest of ivory, and commanded a price four times greater than any other
sent to the European market.

But the capturing of the young camelopards was the principal object of
their expedition.  The love of glory was stronger than the desire of
gain, especially in Groot Willem, who as a hunter eagerly longed to
accomplish a feat which had been attempted by so many others without
success.  In his mind, the fame of fetching back the two young giraffes
far outweighed the five hundred pound prize to be obtained, though the
latter was a consideration not to be despised, and no doubt formed with
him, as with the others, an additional incentive.



CHAPTER TWO.

ON THE LIMPOPO.

During the first night spent upon the Limpopo our adventurers had good
reason for believing that they were in the neighbourhood of several
kinds of game they were anxious to fall in with.

Their repose was disturbed by a combination of sounds, in which they
could distinguish the roar of the lion, the trumpet-like notes of the
elephant, mingled with the voices of some creature they could not
remember having previously heard.

Several hours of that day had been passed in searching for a place to
cross the river,--one where the banks were low on each side, and the
stream not too deep.  This had not been found until the sun was low down
upon the horizon.

By the time they had got safely over, twilight was fast thickening into
darkness, and all but Congo were unwilling to proceed farther that
night.  The Kaffir suggested that they should go at least half a mile up
or down the river and Groot Willem seconded the proposal, although he
had no other reason for doing so than a blind belief in the opinions of
his attendant, whether they were based upon wisdom or instinct.  In the
end Congo's suggestion had been adopted, and the sounds that disturbed
the slumbers of the camp were heard at some distance, proceeding from
the place where they had crossed the river.

"Now, can you understand why Congo advised us to come here?" asked Groot
Willem, as they listened to the hideous noises that were depriving them
of sleep.

"No," was the reply of his companions.

"Well, it was because the place where we crossed is the watering-place
for all the animals in the neighbourhood."

"That is so, Baas Willem," said Congo, confirming the statement of his
master.

"But we have not come a thousand miles for the sake of keeping out of
the way of those animals, have we?" asked the hunter Hendrik.

"No," answered Willem, "we came here to seek them, not to have them seek
us.  Our horses want rest, whether we do or not."

Here ended further conversation for the night, for the hunters becoming
accustomed to the chorus of the wild creatures, took no further notice
of it, and one after another fell asleep.

Morning dawned upon a scene of surpassing beauty.  They were in a broad
valley, covered with magnificent trees, among which were many gigantic
baobabs (_Adansonia digitata_).  Wild date-trees were growing in little
clumps; while the floral carpet, spread in brilliant pattern over the
valley, was observed by Hans with an air of peculiar satisfaction.

He had reached a new field for the pursuit of his studies, and bright
dreams were passing gently through his mind,--dreams that anticipated
new discoveries in the botanical world, which might make his name known
among the savants of Europe.

Before any of his companions were moving, Groot Willem, accompanied by
Congo, stole forth to take a look at the surrounding country.

They directed their course down the river.  On reaching the place where
they had crossed it, they chanced upon a tableau that even a hunter, who
is supposed to take delight in the destruction of animals, could not
look upon without unpleasant emotions.

Within the space of a hundred yards were lying five dead antelopes, of a
species Willem had never seen before.  Feeding on the carcasses were
several hyenas.  On the approach of the hunters, they slowly moved away,
each laughing like a madman who has just committed some horrible
atrocity.

By the "spoors" seen upon the river-banks, it was evident that both
elephants and lions had visited the place during the night.  While
making these and other reconnoissances, Groot Willem was joined by Hans,
who had already commenced his favourite study by making an examination
of the floral treasures in his immediate locality.  Arriving up with
Groot Willem, the attention of Hans was at once directed to an
examination of the antelopes, which he pronounced to be elands, but
believed them to be of a new and undescribed variety of this animal.
They were elands; but each was marked with small white stripes across
the body, in this respect resembling "koodoos."

After a short examination of the spoor, Congo asserted that a troop of
elands had first visited the watering-place, and that while they were
there four bull elephants, also in search of water, had charged with
great speed upon the antelopes.  Three or four lions had also joined in
the strife, in which the only victims had been the unfortunate elands.

"I think we are in a place where we had better make a regular enclosure,
and stop for a few days," suggested Groot Willem, on his return to the
camp.  "There is plenty of feed for the horses, and we have proof that
the `drift' where we crossed is a great resort for all kinds of game."

"I'm of the same opinion," assented Hendrik; "but I don't wish to encamp
quite so close to the crossing as this is.  We had better move some
distance off.  Then we shall not prevent game from seeking the drift, or
be ourselves hindered from getting sleep.  Don't you think we'd better
move little farther up the river?"

"Yes, yes," was the unanimous answer.

It was therefore decided that search should be made for a better
camping-ground, where they could build themselves a proper enclosure, or
"kraal."

After partaking of their first breakfast upon the Limpopo, Groot Willem,
Hans, and Hendrik mounted their horses and rode off up the river,
accompanied by the full pack of dogs, leaving Arend, with Swartboy and
Congo, to take care of the camp.

For nearly three miles, the young hunters rode along the bank of the
river, without finding any spot where access to the water could be
readily obtained.  The banks were high and steep, and therefore but
little visited by such animals as they wished to hunt.  At this point
the features of the landscape began to change, presenting an appearance
more to their satisfaction.  Light timber, such as would be required for
the construction of a stockade, was growing near the river, which was no
longer inaccessible, though its banks appeared but little frequented by
game.

"I think this place will suit admirably," said Groot Willem.  "We are
only half an hour's ride from the drift, and probably we may find good
hunting-ground farther up stream."

"Very likely," rejoined Hendrik; "but before taking too much trouble to
build ourselves a big kraal, we had better be sure about what sort of
game is to be got here."

"You are right about that," answered Willem; "we must take care to find
out whether there are hippopotami and giraffes.  We cannot go home
without a pair of the latter.  Our friends would be disappointed, and
some I know would have a laugh at us."

"And you for one would deserve it," said Hans.  "Remember how you
ridiculed the other hunters who returned unsuccessful."

Having selected a place for the kraal, should they decide on staying
awhile in the neighbourhood, the young hunters proceeded farther up the
river, for the purpose of learning something more of the hunting-ground
before finally determining to construct the enclosure.



CHAPTER THREE.

A TWIN TRAP.

Not long after the departure of Groot Willem and his companions, Arend,
looking towards a thicket about half a mile from the river, perceived a
small herd of antelopes quietly browsing upon the plain.  Mounting his
horse, he rode off, with the intention of bagging one or more of them
for the day's dinner.

Having ridden to the leeward of the herd, and getting near them, he saw
that they were of the species known as "Duyker," or Divers (_Antelope
grimmia_).  Near them was a small "motte" of the _Nerium oleander_, a
shrub about twelve feet high, loaded with beautiful blossoms.  Under the
cover of these bushes, he rode up close enough to the antelopes to
insure a good shot, and, picking out one of the largest of the herd, he
fired.

All the antelopes but one rushed to the edge of the thicket, made a
grand leap, and dived out of sight over the tops of the bushes,--thus
affording a beautiful illustration of that peculiarity to which they are
indebted for their name of Divers.  Riding up to the one that had
remained behind, and which was that at which he had fired, the young
hunter made sure that it was dead; he then trotted back to the camp, and
despatched Congo and the Bushman to bring it in.  They soon returned
with the carcass, which they proceeded to skin and make ready for the
spit.

While thus engaged, Swartboy appeared to notice some thing out upon the
plain.

"Look yonner, Baas Arend," said he.

"Well, what is it, Swart?"

"You see da pack-horse dare?  He gone too much off from de camp."

Arend turned and looked in the direction the Bushman was pointing.  One
of the horses, which had strayed from its companions, was now more than
half a mile off, and was wandering onwards.

"All right, Swart.  You go on with your cooking.  I'll ride after it
myself, and drive it in."

Arend, again mounting his horse, trotted off in the direction of the
animal that had strayed.

For cooking the antelope, Congo and Swartboy saw the necessity of
providing themselves with some water; and taking a vessel for that
purpose, they set out for the drift,--that being the nearest place where
they could obtain it.

They kept along the bank of the river, and just before reaching a place
where they would descend to the water, Congo, who was in the advance,
suddenly disappeared!  He had walked on to a carefully concealed pit,
dug for the purpose of catching hippopotami or elephants.

The hole was about nine feet deep; and after being astonished by
dropping into it, the Kaffir was nearly blinded by the sand, dust, and
other materials that had formed the covering of the pit.

Congo was too well acquainted with this South African device for killing
large game to be anyways disconcerted by what had happened; and after
becoming convinced that he was uninjured by the fall, he turned his
glance upward, expecting assistance from his companion.

But Swartboy's aid could not just then be given.  The Bushman, amused by
the ludicrous incident that had befallen his rival, was determined to
enjoy the fun for a little longer.  Uttering a wild shout of laughter
that was a tolerable imitation of an enraged hyena, Swartboy seemed
transported into a heaven of unadulterated joy.  Earth appeared hardly
able to hold him as he leaped and danced around the edge of the pit.

Never had his peculiar little mind been so intensely delighted; but the
manifestations of that delight were more suddenly terminated than
commenced; for in the midst of his eccentric capers he, too, suddenly
disappeared into the earth as if swallowed up by an earthquake!  His
misfortune was similar to that which had befallen his companion.  Two
pitfalls had been constructed close together, and Swartboy now occupied
the second.

It is a common practice among the natives of South Africa to trap the
elephant in these twin pitfalls; as the animals, too hastily avoiding
the one, run the risk of dropping into the other.

Swartboy and the Kaffir had unexpectedly found a place where this plan
had been adopted; and, much to their discomfiture, without the success
anticipated by those who had taken the trouble to contrive it.

The cavity into which Congo had fallen contained about two feet of mud
on the bottom.  The sides were perpendicular, and of a soapy sort of
clay, so that his attempts at climbing out proved altogether
unsuccessful, thus greatly increasing the chagrin of his unphilosophic
mind.  He had heard the Bushman's screams of delight, and the sounds had
contributed nothing to reconcile him to the mischance that had befallen
him.  Several minutes passed and he heard nothing of Swartboy.

He was not surprised at the Bushman's having been amused as well as
gratified by his misfortune.  Still, he expected that in time he would
lend assistance and pull him out of the pit.  But as this assistance was
not given, and as Swartboy, not satisfied with laughing at his
misfortune appeared also to have gone off and left him to his fate, the
Kaffir became frantic with rage.

Several more minutes passed, which to Congo seemed hours, and still
nothing was seen or heard of his companion.  Had Swartboy returned to
the camp?  If so, why had not Arend, on ascertaining what was wrong,
hastened to the relief of his faithful servant?  As some addition to the
discomforts of the place, the pit contained many reptiles and insects
that had in some manner obtained admittance, and, like himself, could
not escape.  There were toads, frogs, large ants called "soldiers," and
other creatures whose company he had no relish to keep.

In vain he called, "Swartboy!" and "Baas Arend!"  No one came to his
call.  The strong, vindictive spirit of his race was soon roused to the
pitch of fury, and liberty became only desired for one object.  That was
revenge,--revenge on the man who, instead of releasing him from his
imprisonment, only exulted in its continuance.

The Bushman had not been injured in falling into the pit, as may be
supposed.  After fully comprehending the manner in which his amusement
had been so suddenly brought to a termination, his first thought was to
extricate himself, without asking assistance from the man who had
furnished him with the fun.  His pride would be greatly mortified should
the Kaffir get out of his pit, and find him in the other.  That would be
a humiliating rencontre.

In silence, therefore, he listened to Congo's cries for assistance,
while at the same time doing all in his power to extricate himself.  He
tried to pull up a sharp-pointed stake that stood in the bottom of the
pit.  This piece of timber had been placed there for the purpose of
impaling and killing the hippopotamus or elephant that should drop down
upon it; and had the Bushman succeeded in taking it from the place where
it had been planted, he might have used it in working his own way to the
surface of the earth.  This object, however, he was unable to
accomplish, and his mind became diverted to another idea.

Swartboy had a system of logic, not wholly peculiar to himself, by which
he was enabled to discover that there must be some first cause for his
being in a place from which he could not escape.  That cause was no
other than Congo.  Had the Kaffir not fallen into a pit, Swartboy was
quite certain that he would have escaped the similar calamity.

He would have liberated Congo from his confinement, and perhaps
sympathised with his misfortune, after the first ebullitions of his
mirth had been exhausted; but now, on being entrapped himself, he was
only conscious that some one was to blame for the disagreeable incident,
and was unable to admit that this some one was himself.  The mishap had
befallen him in company with the Kaffir.  It was that individual's
misfortune that had conducted to his own, and this was another reason
why he now submitted to his captivity in profound silence.

Unlike Congo, he did not experience the soul-harrowing thought of being
neglected, and could therefore endure his confinement with some degree
of patience not possible to his companion.  Moreover, he had the hope of
speedy deliverance, which to Congo was denied.

He knew that Arend would soon return to the camp with the stray horse,
and miss them.  The water-vessel would also be missed, and a search
would be made for it in the right direction.  No doubt Arend, seeing
that the bucket was taken away from the camp, and finding that they did
not return, would come toward the drift,--the only place where water
could be dipped up.  In doing so he must pass within sight of the pits.
With this calculation, therefore, Swartboy could reconcile himself to
patience and silence, whereas the Kaffir had no such consolatory data to
reflect upon.



CHAPTER FOUR.

IN THE PITS.

As time passed on, however, and Swartboy saw that the sun was
descending, and that the shades of night would soon be gathering over
the river, his hopes began to sink within him.  He could not understand
why the young hunter had not long ago come to release them.  Groot
Willem, Hendrik, and Hans should have returned by that time; and the
four should have made an effectual search for their missing servants.
He had remained silent for a long time, under very peculiar
circumstances.  But silence now became unbearable, and he was seized
with a sudden desire to express his dissatisfaction at the manner Fate
had been dealing out events,--a desire no longer to be resisted.  The
silence was at last broken by his calling out--

"Congo, you ole fool, where are you?  What for don't you go home?"

On the Kaffir's ear the voice fell dull and distant; and yet he
immediately understood whence it came.  Like himself, the Bushman was in
a living grave!  That explained his neglect to render the long-desired
assistance.

"Lor', Swart! why I waiting for you," answered Congo, for the first time
since his imprisonment attempting a smile; "I don't want to go to the
camp and leave you behind me."

"You think a big sight too much of yourself," rejoined the Bushman.
"Who wants to be near such a black ole fool as you?  You may go back to
the camp, and when you get there jus' tell Baas Hendrik that Swartboy
wants to see him.  I've got something particular to tell him."

"Very well," answered the Kaffir, becoming more reconciled to his
position; "what for you want see Baas Hendrik?  I'll tell him what you
want without making him come here.  What shall I say?"

In answer to this question, Swartboy made a long speech, in which the
Kaffir was requested to report himself as a fool for having fallen into
a pit,--that he had shown himself more stupid than the sea-cows, that
had apparently shunned the trap for years.

On being requested to explain how one was more stupid than the other,--
both having met with the same mischance,--Swartboy went on to prove that
his misfortune was wholly owing to the fault of Congo, by the Kaffir
having committed the first folly of allowing himself to be entrapped.

Nothing, to the Bushman's mind, could be more clear than that Congo's
stupidity in falling into the first pit had led to his own downfall into
the second.

This was now a source of much consolation to him, and the verbal
expression of his wrongs enabled him for a while to feel rather happy at
the fine opportunity afforded for reviling his rival.  The amusement,
however, could not prevent his thoughts from returning to the positive
facts that he was imprisoned; that in place of passing the day in
cooking and eating _duyker_, he had been fasting and fretting in a dark,
dirty pit, in the companionship of loathsome reptiles.

His mind now expanding under the exercise of a startled imagination, he
became apprehensive.  What if some accident should have occurred to
Arend, and prevented his return to the camp?  What if Groot Willem and
the others should have strayed, and not find their way back to the place
for two or three days?  He had heard of such events happening to other
stupid white men, and why not to them?  What if they had met a tribe of
the savage inhabitants of the country, and been killed or taken
prisoners?

These conjectures, and a thousand others, flitted through the brain of
the Bushman, all guiding to the conclusion that, should either of them
prove correct, he would first have to eat the reptiles in the pit, and
then starve.

It was no consolation to him to think that his rival in the other pit
would have to submit to a similar fate.

His unpleasant reveries were interrupted by a short, angry bark; and,
looking up to the opening through which he had descended, he beheld the
countenance of a wild dog,--the "wilde honden" of the Dutch Boers.

Uttering another and a different cry, the animal started back; and from
the sounds now heard overhead, the Bushman was certain that it was
accompanied by many others of its kind.

An instinctive fear of man led them to retreat for a short distance; but
they soon found out that "the wicked flee when no man pursueth," and
they returned.

They were hungry, and had the sense to know that the enemy they had
discovered was, for some reason, unable to molest them.

Approaching nearer, and more near, they again gathered around the pits,
and saw that food was waiting for them at the bottom of both.  They
could contemplate their victims unharmed, and this made them courageous
enough to think of an attack.  The human voice and the gaze of human
eyes had lost their power, and the pack of wild hounds, counting several
score, began to think of taking some steps towards satisfying their
hunger.

They commenced scratching and tearing away the covering of the pits,
sending down a shower of dust, sand, and grass that nearly suffocated
the two men imprisoned beneath.

The poles supporting the screen of earth were rotten with age, and the
whole scaffolding threatened to come down as the wild dogs scampered
over it.

"If there should be a shower of dogs," thought Swartboy, "I hope that
fool Congo will have his share of it."

This hope was immediately realised, for the next instant he heard the
howling of one of the animals evidently down in the adjoining pit.  It
had fallen through, but, fortunately for Congo, not without injuring
itself in a way that he had but narrowly escaped.  The dog had got
transfixed on the sharp-pointed stake, planted firmly in the centre of
the pit, and was now hanging on it in horrible agony, unable to get
clear.

Without lying down in the mud, the Kaffir was unable to keep his face
more than twelve inches from the open jaws of the dog, that in its
struggles spun round as on a pivot; and Congo had to press close against
the side of the pit, to keep out of the reach of the creature yelping in
his ears.

Swartboy could distinguish the utterances of this dog from those of its
companions above, and the interpretation he gave to them was, that a
fierce combat was taking place between it and the Kaffir.

The jealousy and petty ill-will so often exhibited by the Bushman was
not so strong as he had himself believed.  His intense anxiety to know
which was getting the best of the fight, added to the fear that Congo
was being torn to pieces, told him that his friendship for the Kaffir
far outweighed the animosity he fancied himself to have felt.

The fiendish yells of the dogs, the unpleasant situation in which he was
placed, and the uncertainty of the time he was to endure it, were
well-nigh driving him distracted; when just then the wild honden
appeared to be beating a retreat,--the only one remaining being that in
the pit with Congo.  What was driving them away?  Could assistance be at
hand?

Breathlessly the Bushman stood listening.



CHAPTER FIVE.

AREND LOST.

In the afternoon, when Groot Willem, Hans, and Hendrik returned to the
camp, they found it deserted.

Several jackals reluctantly skulked off as they drew near and on riding
up to the spot from which those creatures had retired, they saw the
clean-picked bones of an antelope.  The camp must have been deserted for
several hours.

"What does this mean?" exclaimed Groot Willem.  "What has become of
Arend?"

"I don't know," answered Hendrik.  "It is strange Swart and Cong are not
here to tell us."

Something unusual had certainly happened; yet, as each glanced anxiously
around the place, there appeared nothing to explain the mystery.

"What shall we do?" asked Willem, in a tone that expressed much concern.

"Wait," answered Hans; "we can do nothing more."

Two or three objects were at this moment observed which fixed their
attention.  They were out on the plain, nearly a mile off.  They
appeared to be horses,--their own pack animals,--and Hendrik and Groot
Willem started off towards them to drive them back to the camp.

They were absent nearly an hour before they succeeded in turning the
horses and driving them towards the camp.  As they passed near the drift
on their return, they rode towards the river to water the animals they
were riding.

On approaching the bank, several native dogs, that had been yelling in a
clump, were seen to scatter and retreat across the plain.  The horsemen
thought little of this, but rode on into the river, and permitted their
horses to drink.

While quietly seated in their saddles, Hendrik fancied he heard some
strange sounds.  "Listen!" said he.  "I hear something queer.  What is
it?"

"One of the honden," answered Willem.

"Where?"

This question neither for a moment could answer, until Groot Willem
observed one of the pits from the edge of which the dogs appeared to
have retreated.

"Yonder's a pit-trap!" he exclaimed, "and I believe there's a dog has
got into it.  Well, I shall give it a shot, and put the creature out of
its misery."

"Do so," replied Hendrik.  "I hate the creatures as much as any other
noxious vermin, but it would be cruel to let one starve to death in that
way.  Kill it."

Willem rode up to the pit and dismounted.  Neither of them, as yet,
spoke loud enough to be heard in the pits, and the two men down below
were at this time silent, the dog alone continuing its cries of agony.

The only thing Willem saw on gazing down the hole was the wild hound
still hanging on the stake; and taking aim at one of its eyes he fired.

The last spark of life was knocked out of the suffering animal; but the
report of the great gun was instantly followed by two yells more hideous
than were ever uttered by "wild honden."

They were the screams of two frightened Africans,--each frightened to
think that the next bullet would be for him.

"Arend!" exclaimed Willem, anxious about his brother, and thinking only
of him.  "Arend! is it you?"

"No, Baas Willem," answered the Kaffir.  "It is Congo."

Through the opening, Willem reached down the butt-end of his long roer,
while firmly clasping it by the barrel.

The Kaffir took hold with both hands, and, by the strong arms of Groot
Willem, was instantly extricated from his subterranean prison.

Swartboy was next hauled out, and the two mud-bedaubed individuals stood
gazing at one another, each highly delighted at the rueful appearance
presented by his rival.

Slowly the fire of anger, that seemed to have all the while been burning
in the Kaffir's eyes, became extinguished, and broad smile broke like
the light of day over his stoical countenance.

He had been released at length, and was now convinced that no one was to
blame for his protracted imprisonment.

Swartboy had been punished for his ill-timed mirth, and Congo was
willing to forget and forgive.

"But where is Arend?" asked Willem, who could not forget, even while
amused by the ludicrous aspect of the two Africans, that his brother was
missing.

"Don't know, Baas Willem," answered Congo.  "I been long time here."

"But when did you see him last?" inquired Hendrik.

Congo was unable to tell, for he seemed under the impression that he had
been several days in the bosom of the earth.

From Swartboy they learnt that soon after their own departure Arend had
started in pursuit of one of the horses seen straying over the plain.
That was the last Swart had seen of him.

The sun was now low down, and, without wasting time in idle speech,
Hendrik and Groot Willem again mounted their horses, and rode off
towards the place where Arend was last seen.

They reached the edge of the timber nearly a mile from the camp, and
then, not knowing which way to turn, or what else to do, Willem fired a
shot.

The loud crack of the roer seemed to echo far-away through the forest,
and anxiously they listened for some response to the sound.  It came,
but not in the report of a rifle, or in the voice of the missing man,
but in the language of the forest denizens.  The screaming of vultures,
the chattering of baboons, and the roaring of lions were the responses
which the signal received.

"What shall we do, Willem?" asked Hendrik.

"Go back to the halting-place and bring Congo and Spoor'em," answered
Willem, as he turned towards the camp, and rode off, followed by his
cousin.



CHAPTER SIX.

SPOOR'EM.

The last ray of daylight had fled from the valley of the Limpopo, when
Willem and Hendrik, provided with a torch and accompanied by the Kaffir
and the dog Spoor'em, again set forth to seek for their lost companion.

The animal answering to the name Spoor'em was a large Spanish
bloodhound, now led forth to perform the first duty required of him in
the expedition.

The dog, when quite young, had been brought from one of the Portuguese
settlements at the north,--purchased by Groot Willem and christened
Spoor'em by Congo.

In the long journey from Graaf Reinet, this brute had been the cause of
more trouble than all the other dogs of the pack.  It had shown a strong
disinclination to endure hunger, thirst, or the fatigues of the journey;
and had often exhibited a desire to leave its new masters.

Spoor'em was now led out, in hopes that he would do some service to
compensate for the trouble he had caused.

Taking a course along the edge of the forest, that would bring them
across the track made by Arend in reaching the place where the horse had
strayed, the spoor of Arend's horse as well as the other's was
discovered.

The tracks of both were followed into the forest, along well-beaten
path, evidently made by buffaloes and other animals passing to and from
the river.  This path was hedged in by a thick thorny scrub, which being
impenetrable rendered it unnecessary for some time to avail themselves
of the instincts of the hound.  Congo led the way.

"Are you sure that the two horses have passed along here?" asked Willem,
addressing himself to the Kaffir.

"Yaas, Baas Willem," answered Congo.  "Sure dey both go here."

Willem, turning to Hendrik, added, "I wish Arend had let the horse go to
the deuce.  It was not worth following into a place like this."

After continuing through the thicket for nearly half a mile, they
reached a stretch of open ground, where there was no longer a beaten
trail, but tracks diverging in several directions.  The hoof-marks of
Arend's horse were again found, and the bloodhound was unleashed and set
upon them.

Unlike most hounds, Spoor'em did not dash onward, leaving his followers
far behind.  He appeared to think that it would be for the mutual
advantage of himself and his masters that they should remain near each
other.  The latter, therefore, had no difficulty in keeping up with the
dog.

Believing that they should soon learn something of the fate of their
lost companion, they proceeded onward, with their voices encouraging the
hound to greater speed.

The sounds of a contest carried on by some of the wild denizens of the
neighbourhood were soon heard a few yards in advance of them.  They were
sounds that the hunters had often listened to before, and therefore
could easily interpret.  A lion and a pack of hyenas were quarrelling
over the dead body of some large animal.  They were not fighting; for of
course the royal beast was in undisputed possession of the carcass, and
the hyenas were simply complaining in their own peculiar tones.  The
angry roars of the lion, and the hideous laughter of the hyenas,
proceeded from a spot only a few yards in advance, and in the direction
Spoor'em was leading them.

The moon had risen, and by its light the searchers soon beheld the
creatures that were causing the tumult.  About a dozen hyenas were
gibbering around a huge lion that lay crouched alongside a dark object
on the ground, upon which he appeared to be feeding.  As the hunters
drew nearer, the hyenas retreated to some distance.

"It appears to be the carcass of a horse," whispered Hendrik.

"Yes, I am sure of it," answered Willem, "for I can see the saddle.  My
God!  It is Arend's horse!  Where is he?"

Spoor'em had now advanced to within fifteen paces of where the lion lay,
and commenced baying a menace; as if commanding the lion to forsake his
unfinished repast.  An angry growl was all the answer Spoor'em could
obtain; and the lion lay still.

"We must either kill or drive him away," said Willem.  "Which shall we
try?"

"Kill him," answered Hendrik; "that will be our safest plan."

Stealing out of their saddles, Willem and Hendrik gave their horses in
charge to the Kaffir, and then proceeded to stalk.  With their guns at
full cock they advanced side by side, Spoor'em sneaking along at their
heels.

They stole up within five paces of the lion, which still held its
ground.  The only respect it showed to their presence was to leave off
feeding and crouch over the body of the horse, as though preparing to
spring upon them.

"Now," whispered Hendrik, "shall we fire?"

"Yes, yes!--now!"

Both pulled trigger at the same time, the two shots making but one
report.

Instinctively each threw himself from the direct line of the creature's
deadly leap.  This was done at the moment of firing; and the lion,
uttering a terrific roar, launched itself towards them, and fell heavily
between the two, having leaped a distance of full twenty feet.  That
effort was its last, for it was unable to rise again.

Without taking the trouble to ascertain whether the fierce brute had
been killed outright, they turned their attention to the carcass.

The horse was Arend's, but there was not the slightest trace of the
rider.  Whatever had been his fate, there was no sign of his having been
killed along with his horse.  There was still a hope that he had made
his escape, though the finding of the horse only added to their
apprehensions.

"Let us find out," counselled Hendrik, "whether the horse was killed
where it is now lying, or whether it has been dragged hither by the
lion."

After examining the ground, Congo declared that the horse had been
killed upon the spot, and by the lion.

This was strange enough.

On a further examination of the sign, it was found that one of the
horse's legs was entangled in the rein of the bridle.  This explained
the circumstance to some extent, otherwise it would have been difficult
to understand how so swift an animal as a horse should have allowed
itself to be overtaken upon an open plain.

"So much the better," said Groot Willem.  "Arend never reached this
place along with his horse."

"That's true," answered Hendrik, "and our next move will be to find out
where he parted from his saddle."

"Let us go back," said Willem, "and more carefully examine the tracks."

During this conversation, the hunters had reloaded their rifles, and now
remounted for the purpose of riding back.

"Baas Willem," suggested Congo, "let Spoor'em try 'bout here little
more."

This suggestion was adopted, and Congo, setting on the hound, proceeded
to describe a larger circle around the spot.

After reaching a part of the plain where they had not yet been, the
Kaffir called out to them to come to him.

They rode up, and were again shown the spoor of Arend's horse leading
away from where its carcass was now lying, and in the opposite direction
from the camp.

It was evident that the horse had been farther off than the spot where
its remains now rested.  It had probably lost its rider beyond, and was
on its return to the camp when killed by the lion.

Once more Spoor'em started along the track, Congo keeping close to his
tail, the two horsemen riding anxiously after.

But we must return to the camp, and follow the trail of the lost hunter
by a means more sure than even the keen scent of Spoor'em.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

THE LOST HUNTER.

As Arend came up to the horse that had wandered from the camp, the
animal had arrived at the edge of an extensive thicket, and was
apparently determined upon straying still farther.  To avoid being
caught or driven back, it rushed in among trees, taking a path or trace
made by wild animals.

Arend followed.

The path was too narrow to allow of his heading the stray; and,
apprehensive of losing it altogether, the youth followed on in hopes of
coming to a wider track, where he might have a chance of passing the
runaway and turning it towards the camp.

This hope seemed about to be realised, as the truant emerged from the
thicket and entered upon an open plain clothed with low heath,--the
_Erica vestila_, loaded with white blossoms.

The hunter was no longer obliged to follow upon the heels of the
runaway,--the horse; and spurring his own steed, he made an attempt to
get past it.  But the horse, perhaps inspired by a recollection of the
pack-saddle and its heavy load, broke off into a gallop.

Arend followed, increasing his own speed in like proportion.  When
nearly across the plain, the runaway suddenly stopped and then bolted
off at right angles to the course it had been hitherto pursuing.

Arend was astonished, but soon discovered the cause of this eccentric
action, in the presence of a huge black rhinoceros,--the borele--which
was making a straight course across the plain, as if on its way to the
river.

The runaway horse had shied out of its way; and it would have been well
for the horseman if he had shown himself equally discreet.  But Arend
Von Wyk was a hunter,--and an officer of the Cape Militia,--and as the
borele passed by him, presenting a fine opportunity for a shot, he could
not resist the temptation to give it one.

Pulling up his horse, or rather trying to do so, for the animal was
restive in the presence of such danger, he fired.  The shot produced a
result that was neither expected nor desired.  With a roar like the
bellowing of an angry bull, the monster turned and charged straight
towards the horseman.

Arend was obliged to seek safety in flight, while the borele pursued in
a manner that told of its being wounded, but not incapacitated from
seeking revenge.

At the commencement of the chase, there was but a very short distance
between pursuer and pursued; and in place of suddenly turning out of the
track, and allowing the monster to pass by him,--which he should have
done, knowing the defect of vision natural to the rhinoceros,--the young
hunter continued on in a straight line, all the while employed in
reloading his rifle.

His mistake did not originate in any want of knowledge, or presence of
mind, but rather from carelessness and an unworthy estimate of the
abilities of the borele to overtake him.  He had long been a successful
hunter, and success too often begets that over-confidence which leads to
many a mischance, that the more cautious sportsman will avoid.

Suddenly he found his flight arrested by the thick scrub of thorny
bushes, known in South Africa as the "wait a bits", and the horse he was
riding did wait a bit,--and so long that the borele was soon close upon
his heels.

There was now neither time nor room to turn either to the right or left.

The rifle was at length loaded, but there would have been but little
chance of killing the rhinoceros by a single shot, especially with such
uncertain aim as could have been taken from the back of a frightened
horse.

Arend, therefore, threw himself from the saddle.  He had a twofold
purpose in doing so.  His aim would be more correct, and there was the
chance of the borele keeping on after the horse, and leaving him an
undisturbed spectator of the chase.

The field of view embraced by the eyes of a rhinoceros is not large;
but, unfortunately for the hunter, as the frightened horse fled from his
side, it was he himself that came within the circumscribed circle of the
borele's vision.

Hastily raising the rifle to his shoulder he fired at the advancing
enemy, and then fled towards a clump of trees that chanced to be near
by.

He could hear the heavy tread of the rhinoceros as it followed close
upon his heels.  It seemed to shake the earth.  Closer and closer he
heard it, so near that he dared not stop to look around.  He fancied he
could feel the breath of the monster blowing upon his back.  His only
chance was to make a sudden deviation from his course, and leave the
borele to pass on in its impetuous charge.  This he did, turning sharply
to the right, when he saw that he had just escaped being elevated upon
the creature's horn.

This manoeuvre enabled him to gain some distance as he started off in
the new direction.  But it was not long maintained; for the borele was
again in hot pursuit, without any show of fatigue; while the tremendous
exertions he had himself been making rendered him incapable of
continuing his flight much longer.  He had just sufficient strength left
to avoid an immediate encounter by taking one more turn, when,
fortunately, he saw before him the trunk of a large baobab-tree lying
prostrate along the ground.  It had been blown down by some mighty
storm, and lay resting upon its roots at one end, and its shivered
branches at the other, so as to leave a space of about two feet between
its trunk and the ground.

Suddenly throwing himself down, Arend glided under the tree, just in
time to escape the long horn, whose point had again come in close
proximity with his posterior.

The hunter had now time to recover his breath, and, to some extent, his
confidence.  He saw that the fallen tree would protect him.  Even should
the rhinoceros come round to the other side, he would only have to roll
back again to place himself beyond the reach of its terrible horn.  The
space below was ample enough to enable him to pass through, but too
small for the body of a borele.  By creeping back and forward he could
always place himself in safety.  And this was just what he had to do;
for the enraged monster, on seeing him on the other side, immediately
ran round the roots, and renewed the attack.

This course of action was several times repeated before the young hunter
was allowed much time for reflection.  He was in hopes that the brute
would get tired of the useless charges it was making and either go away
itself, or give him the opportunity.

In this hope he was doomed to disappointment.  The animal, exasperated
with the wounds it had received, appeared implacable; and for more than
an hour it kept running around the tree in vain attempts to get at him.
As he had very little trouble in avoiding it, there was plenty of
opportunity for reflection; and he passed the time in devising some plan
to settle the misunderstanding between the borele and himself.

The first he thought of was to make use of his rifle.  The weapon was
within his reach where he had dropped it when diving under the tree; but
when about to reload it, he discovered that the ramrod was missing!

So sudden had been the charge of the borele, at the time the rifle was
last loaded, that the ramrod had not been returned to its proper place,
but left behind upon the plain.  This was an unlucky circumstance; and
for a time the young hunter could not think of anything better than to
keep turning from side to side, to avoid the presence of the besieger.

The borele at last seemed to show signs of exhaustion, or, at all
events, began to perceive the unprofitable nature of the tactics it had
been pursuing.  But the spirit of revenge was not the least weakened
within it, for it made no move toward taking its departure from the
spot.  On the contrary, it lay down by the baobab in a position to
command a view on both sides of the huge trunk, evidently determined to
stay there and await the chance of getting within reach of its victim.

Thus silently beleaguered, the young hunter set about considering in
what manner he might accomplish the raising of the siege.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

RESCUED.

The sun went down, the moon ascended above the tops of the surrounding
trees, yet the borele seemed no less inspired by the spirit of revenge
than on first receiving the injuries it was wishing to resent.

For many hours the young hunter waited patiently for it to move away in
search of food or any other object except that of revenge; but in this
hope he was disappointed.  The pain inflicted by the shots would not
allow either hunger or thirst to interfere with the desire for
retaliation, and it continued to maintain a watch so vigilant that Arend
dared not leave his retreat for an instant.  Whenever he made a
movement, the enemy did the same.

It was a long time before he could think of any plan that would give him
a chance of getting away.  One at length occurred to him.

Although unable to reload the rifle with a bullet, the thought came into
his mind, that the borele might be blinded by a heavy charge of powder,
or so confused by it as to give him an opportunity of stealing away.
This seemed an excellent plan, yet so simple that Arend was somewhat
surprised he had not thought of it before.

Without difficulty he succeeded in pouring a double quantity of powder
into the barrel; and, in order to keep it there until he had an
opportunity for a close shot, some dry grass was forced into the muzzle.
The chance soon offered; and, taking a deliberate aim at one of the
borele's eyes with the muzzle of the gun not more than two feet from its
head, he pulled trigger.

With a loud moan of mingled rage and agony, the rhinoceros rushed
towards him, and frantically, but vainly exerted all its strength in an
endeavour to overturn the baobab.

"One more shot at the other eye," thought Arend, "and I shall be free."

He immediately proceeded to pour another dose of powder into the rifle,
but while thus engaged a new danger suddenly presented itself.  The dry
grass projected from the gun had ignited and set fire to the dead leaves
that were strewed plentifully over the ground.  In an instant these were
ablaze, the flame spreading rapidly on all sides, and moving towards
him.

The trunk of the baobab could no longer afford protection.  In another
minute it, too, would be enveloped in the red fire, and to stay by its
side would be to perish in the flames.  There was no alternative but to
get to his feet and run for his life.

Not a moment was to be lost, and, slipping from under the tree, he
started off at the top of his speed.  The chances were in his favour for
escaping unobserved by the rhinoceros.  But fortune seemed decidedly
against him.  Before getting twenty paces from the tree, he saw that he
was pursued.

Guided either by one eye or its keen sense of hearing, the monster was
following him at a pace so rapid that, if long enough continued, it must
certainly overtake him.

Once more the young hunter began to feel something like despair.  Death
seemed hard upon his heels.  A few seconds more, and he might be impaled
on that terrible horn.  But for that instinctive love of life which all
feel, he might have surrendered himself to fate; but urged by this, he
kept on.

He was upon the eve of falling to the earth through sheer exhaustion,
when his ears were saluted by the deep-toned bay of a hound, and close
after it a voice exclaiming--

"Look out, Baas Willem!  Somebody come yonder!"

Two seconds more and Arend was safe from further pursuit.  The hound
Spoor'em was dancing about the borele's head, by his loud, angry yelps
diverting its attention from everything but himself.

Two seconds more and Groot Willem and Hendrik came riding up; and, in
less than half a minute after, the monster, having received a shot from
the heavy roer, slowly settled down in its tracks--a dead rhinoceros.

Willem and Hendrik leaped from their horses and shook hands with Arend
in a manner as cordial as if they were just meeting him after an absence
of many years.

"What does it mean, Arend?" jocosely inquired Hendrik.  "Has this brute
been pursuing you for the last twelve hours?"

"Yes."

"And how much longer do you think the chase would have continued?"

"About ten seconds," replied Arend, speaking in a very positive tone.

"Very well," said Hendrik, who was so rejoiced at the deliverance of his
friend that he felt inclined to be witty.  "We know now how long you are
capable of running.  You can lead a borele a chase of just twelve hours
and ten seconds."

Groot Willem was for some time unspeakably happy, and said not a word
until they had returned to the place where the lion had been killed.
Here they stopped for the purpose of recovering the saddle and bridle
from the carcass of the horse.

Groot Willem proposed they should remain there till the morning; his
reason being that, in returning through the narrow path that led out to
the open plain, they might be in danger of meeting buffaloes,
rhinoceroses, or elephants, and be trampled to death in the darkness.

"That's true," replied Arend; "and it might be better to stay here until
daylight, but for two reasons.  One is, that I am dying of hunger, and
should like a roast rib of that antelope I shot in the morning."

"And so should I," said Hendrik, "but the jackals have saved us the
trouble of eating that."

Arend was now informed of the events that had occurred to his absence,
and was highly amused at Hendrik's account of the misfortune that had
befallen Swartboy and Congo.

"We are making a very fair commencement in the way of adventures," said
he, after relating his own experiences of the day, "but so far our
expedition has been anything but profitable."

"We must go farther down the river," said Willem.  "We have not yet seen
the spoor of either hippopotamus or giraffe.  We must keep moving until
we come upon them.  I never want to see another lion, borele, or
elephant."

"But what is your other reason for going back to camp?" asked Hendrik,
addressing himself to Arend.

"What would it be?" replied Arend.  "Do you suppose that our dear friend
Hans has no feelings?"

"O, that's what you mean, is it?"

"Of course it is.  Surely Hans will by this time be half dead with
anxiety on our account."

All agreed that it would be best to go on to the camp; and, after
transferring the saddle and bridle from the carcass of the horse to the
shoulders of Congo, they proceeded onward, arriving in camp at a very
late hour, and finding Hans, as Arend had conjectured, overwhelmed with
apprehension at their long absence.



CHAPTER NINE.

AN INCIDENT OF THE ROAD.

Next morning, they broke up their camp and moved down the river,
extending their march into the second day.

After passing the drift where the Limpopo had been first crossed, Groot
Willem, accompanied by Congo, was riding nearly a mile in advance of his
companions.  His object in leading the way so far ahead was to bag any
game worthy of his notice, before it should be frightened by the others.

Occasionally, a small herd of some of the many varieties of antelopes in
which South Africa abounds fled before him; but these the great hunter
scarce deigned to notice.  His thief object was to find a country
frequented by hippopotami and giraffes.

On his way he passed many of the lofty pandanus or screw pine-trees.
Some of these were covered from top to bottom with parasitic plants,
giving them the appearance of tall towers or obelisks.  Underneath one
of these trees, near the river, and about three hundred yards from where
he was riding, he saw a buffalo cow with her calf.  The sun was low
down; and the time had therefore arrived when some buffalo veal would be
acceptable both to the men and dogs of the expedition.

Telling Congo to stay where he was, the hunter rode to the leeward of
the buffalo cow, and, under cover of some bushes, commenced making
approach.  Knowing that a buffalo cow is easily alarmed, more especially
when accompanied by her calf, he made his advances with the greatest
caution.  Knowing, also, that no animal shows more fierceness and
contempt for danger, while protecting its young, he was anxious to get a
dead shot, so as to avoid the risk of a conflict with the cow, should
she be only wounded.  When he had got as close as the cover would allow
him, he took aim at the cow's heart and fired.

Contrary to his expectation, the animal neither fell nor fled, but
merely turned an inquiring glance in the direction from whence the
report had proceeded.

This was a mystery the hunter could not explain.  Why did the cow keep
to the same spot?  If not disabled by the bullet, why had she not gone
off, taking her young one along with her?

"I might as well have been stalking a tree as this buffalo," thought
Willem, "for one seems as little inclined to move as the other."

Hastily reloading his roer, he rode fearlessly forward, now quite
confident that the cow could not escape him.  She seemed not to care
about retreating, and he had got close up to the spot where she stood,
when all at once the buffalo charged furiously towards him, and was only
stopped by receiving a second bullet from the roer that hit right in the
centre of the forehead.  One more plunge forward and the animal dropped
on her knees, and died after the manner of buffaloes, with legs spread
and back uppermost, instead of falling over on its side.  Another shot
finished the calf, which was crying pitifully by the side of its mother.

Congo now came up, and, while examining the calf, discovered that one of
its legs had been already broken.  This accounted for the cow not having
attempted to save herself by flight.  She knew that her offspring was
disabled, and stayed by it from an instinct of maternal solicitude.

While Willem was engaged reloading his gun, he heard a loud rustling
among the parasitical plants that loaded the pandanus-tree under which
he and Congo were standing.  Some large body was stirring among the
branches.  What could it be?

"Stand clear," shouted Willem, as he swerved off from the tree, at the
same time setting the cap upon his gun.

At the distance of ten or twelve paces he faced round, and stood ready
to meet the moving object, whatever it might be.  Just then he saw
standing before him a tall man who had dropped down from among the
leaves, while Willem's back had been turned towards the tree.

The dress and general appearance of this individual proclaimed him to be
a native African, but not one of those inferior varieties of the human
race which that country produces.  He was a man of about forty years of
age, tall and muscular, with features well formed, and that expressed
both intelligence and courage.  His complexion was tawny brown, not
black; and his hair was more like that of a European than an African.

These observations were made by the young hunter in six seconds; for the
person who had thus suddenly appeared before him allowed no more time to
elapse before setting off from the spot, and in such haste that the
hunter thought he must be retreating in affright.  And yet there was no
sign of fear accompanying the act.  Some other motive must have urged
him to that precipitate departure.

There was; and Congo was the first to discover it.  The man had gone in
the direction of the river.

"Water, water!" exclaimed the Kaffir; "he want water."

The truth of this remark was soon made evident; for, on following the
stranger with their eyes, they saw him rush into the stream, plunge his
head under water and commence filling himself in the same manner as he
would have done, had his body been a bottle!

Hendrik and Arend, having heard the reports of the roer, feared that
something might have gone wrong, and galloped forward, leaving Hans and
Swartboy to bring up the pack-horses.

They reached the scene just as the African, after having quenched his
thirst, had returned to the tree where the young hunter and Congo had
remained.

Without taking the slightest notice of either of the others, the man
walked up to Groot Willem, and, with an air of dignity, natural to most
semi-barbarous people, began making a speech.  Grateful for having been
relieved from his imprisonment, he evidently believed that duty required
him to say something, whether it might be understood or not.

"Can _you_ understand him, Congo?" asked Willem.

"Yaas, a little I can," answered the Kaffir; and in his own peculiar
manner he interpreted what the African had to say.

It was simply that he owed his life to Groot Willem, and that the latter
had only to ask for whatever he required, and it should be given him.

"That is certainly promising a good deal," said the sarcastic Hendrik,
"and I hope that Willem will not be too greedy in his request, but will
leave something for the rest of mankind."

Hans and Swartboy at this moment came up with the pack-horses; and,
selecting a spot near the place where the cow had been killed, the party
encamped for the night.

For some time, all hands were busy in gathering firewood and making
other preparations for their bivouac,--among which were the skinning and
cooking of the buffalo calf, duties that were assigned to the Bushman.
During his performance of them, the others, assisted by Congo as
interpreter, were extracting from the tall stranger a full account of
the adventure to which they were indebted for his presence in the camp;
and a strange story it was.



CHAPTER TEN.

MACORA.

In the manner of the African there was a certain hauteur which had not
escaped the observation of his hearers.

This was explained on their learning who and what he was; for his story
began by his giving a true and particular account of himself.

His name was Macora, and his rank that of a chief.  His tribe belonged
to the great nation of the Makololo, though living apart, in a "kraal"
by themselves.  The village, so-called, was at no great distance from
the spot where the hunters were now encamped.

The day before, he had come up the river in a canoe, accompanied by
three of his subjects.  Their object was to procure a plant which grew
in that place,--from which the poison for arrows and spears is obtained.
In passing a shallow place in the river, they had attempted to kill a
hippopotamus which they saw walking about on the bottom of the stream,
like a buffalo browsing upon a plain.  Rising suddenly to the surface,
the monster had capsized the canoe, and Macora was compelled to swim
ashore with the loss of a gun which once cost him eight elephant's
tusks.

He had seen nothing of his three companions, since parting with them in
the water.

On reaching the shore, and a few yards from the bank, he encountered a
herd of buffaloes, cows and young calves, on their way to the river.
These turned suddenly to avoid him, when a calf was knocked down by one
of the old ones, and so severely injured that it could not accompany the
rest in their flight.  The mother, seeing her offspring left behind,
turned back and selected Macora as the object of her resentment.  The
chief retreated towards the nearest tree, hotly pursued by the animal
eager to revenge the injury done to her young.

He was just in time to ascend among the branches as the cow came up.
The calf, with much difficulty, succeeded in reaching the tree.  Once
there, it could not move away, and the mother would not leave it.  This
accounted for Macora's having been found among the branches of the
pandanus.  He went on to say, that, during the time he had been detained
in the tree, he had made several attempts to get down and steal off, but
on each occasion had found the buffalo waiting to receive him upon her
horns.  He was suffering terribly with thirst when he heard the first
shot fired by Groot Willem, and perceived that assistance was near.

The chief concluded his narrative by inviting the hunters to accompany
him the next morning to his kraal; where he promised to show them such
hospitality as was in his power.  On learning that his home was down the
river, and at no great distance from it, the invitation was at once
accepted.

"One thing this man has told us," remarked Willem, "which pleases me
very much.  We have learnt that there is or has been a hippopotamus near
our camping-ground, and perhaps we shall not have far to travel before
commencing our premeditated war against them."

"Question him about sea-cows, Cong," said Hendrik.  "Ascertain if there
are many of them about here."

In answer to the Kaffir's inquiries, the chief stated that hippopotami
were not often seen in that part of the river; but that, a day's journey
farther down, there was a large lagoon, through which the stream ran;
there, sea-cows were as plentiful as the stars in the sky.

"That is just the place we have been looking for," said Willem; "and
now, Congo, question him about camelopards."

Macora could hold out but little hopes of their meeting giraffes
anywhere on that part of the Limpopo.  He had heard of one or two having
been occasionally seen; but it was not a giraffe country, and they were
stray animals.

"Ask him if he knows where there is such a country," demanded Willem,
who seemed more interested in learning something about giraffes than
either of his companions.

Macora could not or would not answer this question without taking his
own time and way of doing it.  He stated that the native country of
himself and his tribe was far to the north and west; that they had been
driven from their home by the tyranny of the great Zooloo King,
Moselekatse, who claimed the land and levied tribute upon all the petty
chiefs around him.

Macora further stated that, having in some mysterious manner lost the
good opinion of Sekeletu and other great chiefs of the Makololo,--his
own people,--they would no longer protect him, and that he and his tribe
were compelled to leave their homes, and migrate to the place where he
was now about to conduct his new acquaintances.

"But that is not what I wish to know," said Groot Willem, who never
troubled himself with the political affairs of his own country, and
therefore cared little about those of an African petty chief.

On being brought back to the question, Macora stated that he was only
giving them positive proof of his familiarity with the camelopards,
since nowhere were these more abundant than in the country from which he
had been expatriated by the tyranny of the Zooloo chief.  It was his
native land, where he had hunted the giraffe from childhood.

Swartboy here interrupted the conversation by announcing that he had
enough meat cooked for them to begin their meal with; and about ten
pounds' weight of buffalo veal cutlets were placed before the hunters
and their guest.

Macora, who, to all appearance, had been waiting very patiently while
the cutlets were being broiled, commenced the repast with some show of
self-restraint.  This, however, wholly forsook him before it was
finished.  He ate voraciously, consuming more than the four young
hunters together.  This, however, he did not do without making an
apology for his apparent greed; stating that he had been nearly two days
without having tasted food.

The supper having at length come to an end, all stretched themselves
around the fire and went to sleep.

The night passed without their being disturbed; and soon after sunrise
they arose,--not all at the same time,--for one of the party had risen
and taken his departure an hour earlier than the rest.  It was Macora,
whom they had entertained the evening before.

"Here, you Swart and Cong!" exclaimed Arend, when he discovered that the
chief was no longer in the camp, "see if any of the horses are missing.
It is just possible we have been tricked by a false tale and robbed into
the bargain."

"By whom?" asked Groot Willem.

"By your friend, the chief.  He has stolen himself away, if nothing
else."

"I'll bet my life," exclaimed Willem, in a more positive tone than the
others had ever yet heard him use, "that that man is an honest fellow,
and that all he has told us is true, though I can't account for his
absence.  He is a chief, and has the air of one."

"Yes, he is a chief, no doubt," said Hendrik, sneeringly.  "Every
African in this part of the world is a chief, if he only has a family.
Whether his story be true or not, it looks ugly, his leaving us in this
clandestine manner."

Hans, as usual, had nothing to say upon a subject of which he knew
nothing; and Swartboy, after making sure that no horses, guns, or other
property were missing, expressed the opinion that he was never so
mystified in his life.

Nothing was gone from the camp; and yet he was quite certain that any
one speaking a native African language understood by Congo, could not be
capable of acting honestly if an opportunity was allowed him for the
opposite.

Having allowed their horses an hour to graze, while they themselves
breakfasted upon buffalo veal, our adventurers broke up their bivouac,
and continued their march down the bank of the river.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

MACORA'S KRAAL.

After journeying about three hours, the young hunters came to a place
that gave unmistakable evidence of having been often visited by human
beings.

Small palm-trees had been cut down, the trunks taken away, and the tops
left on the ground.  Elephants, giraffes, or other animals that feed on
foliage would have taken the tops of the trees, and, moreover, would not
have cut them down with hatchets, the marks of which were visible in the
stumps left standing.  Half a mile farther on, and fields could be seen
in cultivation.  They were evidently approaching a place inhabited by a
people possessing some intelligence.

"See!" exclaimed Arend, as they rode on, "there's a large body of men
coming towards us."

All turned to the direction in which Arend was gazing.  They saw about
fifty people coming along the crest of a ridge, that trended toward the
north.

"Perhaps they mean mischief," said Hans.  "What shall we do?"

"Ride on and meet them," exclaimed Hendrik.  "If they are enemies it is
not our fault.  We have not molested them."

As the strangers came near, the hunters recognised their late guest, who
was now mounted on an ox and riding in advance of his party.  His
greeting, addressed to Groot Willem, was interpreted by Congo.

"I have invited you to come to my kraal," said he, "and to bring your
friends along with you.  I left you early this morning, and have been to
my home to see that preparations should be made worthy of those who have
befriended Macora.  Some of my people, the bravest and best amongst
them, are here to bid you welcome."

A procession was then formed, and all proceeded on to the African
village, which was but a short distance from the spot.  On entering it,
a group of about a hundred and fifty women received them with a chant,
expressed in low murmuring tones, not unlike the lullaby with which a
mother sings her child to sleep.

The houses of the kraal were constructed stockade fashion, in rows of
upright poles, interlaced with reeds or long grass, and then covered
with a plaster of mud.  Through these the hunters were conducted to a
long shed in the centre of the village, where the saddles were taken
from their horses, which were afterwards led off to the grazing ground.

Although Macora's subjects had been allowed but three hours' notice,
they had prepared a splendid feast for his visitors.

The young hunters sat down to a dinner of roast antelope, _biltongue_,
stews of hippopotamus and buffalo flesh, baked fish, ears of green maize
roasted, with wild honey, stewed pumpkin, melons, and plenty of good
milk.

The young hunters and all their following were waited on with the
greatest courtesy.  Even their dogs were feasted, while Swartboy and
Congo had never in all their lives been treated with so much
consideration.

In the afternoon, Macora informed his guests that he should give them an
entertainment; and, in order that they should enjoy the spectacle
intended for them, he informed them, by way of prologue, of the
circumstances under which it was to be enacted.

His statement was to the effect that his companions in the canoe, at the
time it was capsized by the hippopotamus, had reached home, bringing
with them the story of their mishap; that the tribe had afterwards made
a search for their chief, but not finding him, had come to the
conclusion that he had been either drowned or killed by the sea-cow.
They had given him up for lost; and another important member of the
community, named Sindo, had proclaimed himself chief of the tribe.

When Macora reached home that morning, Sindo had not yet come forth from
his house; and, before he was aware of the chief's reappearance, the
house had been surrounded and the usurper made prisoner.  Sindo, fast
bound and guarded, was now awaiting execution; and this was the
spectacle which the hunters were to be treated to.

It was a scene that none of the young hunters had any desire to be
present at; but, yielding to the importunities of their host, they
accompanied him to the spot where the execution was to take place.  This
was in the suburbs of the village, where they found the prisoner fast
tied to a tree.  Nearly all the inhabitants of the community had
assembled to see the usurper shot,--this being the manner of death that
had been awarded to him.

The prisoner was rather a good-looking man, apparently about thirty-five
years of age.  No evil propensity was expressed in his features; and our
heroes could not help thinking that he had been guilty of no greater
crime than a too hasty ambition.

"Can we not save him from this cruel fate?" asked Hans, speaking to
Groot Willem.  "I think you have some influence with the chief."

"There can be no harm in trying," answered Willem.  "I'll see what I can
do."

Sindo was to be shot with his own musket.  The executioner had been
already appointed, and all other arrangements made for carrying out the
decree, when Willem, advancing towards Macora, commenced interceding for
his life.

His argument was, that the prisoner had not committed any great crime;
that had he conspired against his chief for the purpose of placing
himself in authority, it would have been a different affair.  Then he
would have deserved death.

Willem further urged, that had he, Macora, really been lost, some one of
the tribe would have become chief, and that Sindo was not to blame for
aspiring to resemble one who had ruled to the evident satisfaction of
all.

Macora was then entreated to spare the prisoner's life, and the entreaty
was backed by the promise of a gun to replace the one lost in the river,
on condition that Sindo should be allowed to live.

For a time Macora remained silent, but at length made reply, by saying
that he should never feel safe if the usurper were allowed to remain in
the community.

Groot Willem urged that he could be banished from the kraal, and
forbidden to return to it on penalty of death.

Macora hesitated a little longer; but remembering that he had promised
to grant any favour to the one who had released him from imprisonment in
the tree, he yielded.  Sindo's life should be spared on condition of his
expatriating himself at once and forever from the kraal of Macora.

On granting this pardon, the chief wished all distinctly to understand
that it was done out of gratitude to his friend, the big white hunter.
He did not wish it to be supposed that the prisoner's life had been
purchased with a gun.

All Macora's subjects, including the condemned man himself, appeared
greatly astonished at the decision, so contrary to all precedent among
his fellow-countrymen.

The exhibition of mercy, along with the refusal of the bribe, proved to
the young hunters, that Macora had within him the elements of a noble
nature.

Sindo, accompanied by his family, immediately made departure from the
place, going off to seek a home among kindred tribes, where his ambition
would, no doubt, be exercised with greater caution.

During the evening, Macora provided a varied entertainment for his
guests.  It included a grand feast, with songs and dancing, the latter
done to the sounds of the tom-tom drum, and one-stringed African fiddle.

All retired for the night with the understanding that the hunters should
the next day be conducted to a place where hippopotami were plentiful.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

SPYING OUT THE LAND.

Early next morning, after the hunters had reciprocated Macora's
hospitality by giving him the best breakfast they were capable of
cooking, they started off on their search for sea-cows.  Macora,
accompanied by four attendants, acted as guide, while fifty others were
to follow, to assist in the chase.  The pack-horses and all other
property were taken along, as they did not intend to return to the
kraal, although the chief earnestly requested them to remain and make
his village their home so long as they remained in the neighbourhood.

For more than a mile their way led through small plantations of maize,
owned by Macora's subjects, and cultivated by the women and younger
people of the tribe.

Our adventurers had seen many kraals of Bushmen, also of Bechuana and
Kaffir tribes, and were surprised to observe such evidences of
civilisation so far removed from the teachings and example of the Cape
Colonists.

On their way down the river, buffaloes were observed in small droves, as
also herds of koodoos and zebras.  They had reached a land that gave
good promise of the very adventures they were in search of.

About five miles from the village they came upon a small open space
thickly covered with grass.  Here Macora suggested that they should make
their hunting camp, as the thick growth of timber seen farther down the
river was the resort of every species of game to be found for many miles
around.

Macora's suggestion was adopted; and his followers soon constructed a
stockade enclosure or kraal, to protect the camp.  While this was being
done the young hunters were not idle.

On the open plain beyond some antelopes were seen grazing, and Hendrik
and Arend went after them for the purpose of providing Macora's people
with food.

Groot Willem, on the other hand, preferred going towards the timber,
where he had been told there was larger game; and, accompanied by Macora
and four attendants, he started off, leaving Hans with Swartboy and
Congo to take care of the pack-horses and other _impedimenta_, as also
to superintend the building of the kraal.

Not far from the river-bank, Macora, with Willem, entered a dense forest
standing in a tract of low marshy ground.  They had not gone far, before
coming within sight of some reet boks (reed bucks, _Antelope
eleotragus_, Schreber).  These were not more than three hundred yards
away; and, from the unconcerned manner in which they continued their
occupation, Groot Willem saw that they had never been hunted by men
carrying fire-arms, although so near to a village of the Makololo.  The
innocent creatures were unworthy of a shot from his roer, and he passed
on without molesting them.

He was soon upon a path that showed signs of being nightly trodden by
large animals, on their way to the water.  Amongst other spoor, he was
pleased to observe that of the hippopotamus.  Several of these animals
had evidently left the river only two or three hours before, and were
then probably grazing in the neighbourhood.  They had been so little
disturbed by man, that, contrary to their usual custom, they came out
upon the land to browse by day.

Willem was satisfied that they had reached a place where they would be
content to stop for a while; and, without proceeding any farther, he
resolved to commence business by bringing down one of two buffaloes he
saw lying at some distance off, under the shade of a clump of trees.

Leaving Macora and his men in care of his horse and three dogs which he
had brought with him, he passed to the leeward of the game, trying to
get between the buffaloes and the forest, to head them off in case of
their retreating to the cover.

Willem was too much of a sportsman to think of stalking upon the
buffaloes, and shooting at them while asleep; and after gaining the
desired station, he whistled for his dogs, for the purpose of giving the
buffaloes a bit of a chase, and trying a shot at them while on the run.
His signal was scarce given, when he heard loud yells from the natives
and the report of Macora's musket.

Something had gone wrong; for he saw that his own horse was loose and
galloping over the plain, while the natives were scampering in different
directions, evidently under the inspiration of fear.

The ox upon which Macora sat seemed trying its speed with his horse.
The three dogs had answered his call and were coming towards him.  They
were pursued by something,--by a creature that passed over the ground in
a succession of long low leaps, and yet so much time was lost in
gathering strength for each spring, that it did not much lessen the
distance between itself and the animals it was pursuing.

The buffaloes had started up and gone off at full canter towards the
timber,--passing within less than fifty paces of the spot where Willem
stood.  He allowed them to escape unmolested.  A creature more deserving
of his attention was rapidly approaching from the other side.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE FAITHFUL "SMOKE."

As yet, the dogs did not seem aware that an enemy was after them.  They
had heard their master's whistle, and having been released from the
leash, were only intent in obeying the command.

On rousing the buffaloes from their repose, they probably thought that
they had been called for the express purpose of pursuing and destroying
them; and, heedless of all else, they followed upon the heels of the
great quadrupeds, passing close to the hunter, who in vain endeavoured
to call them off.  He was soon otherwise occupied.

The creature in pursuit of the dogs, and which had caused the flight of
Macora and his attendants, was a large leopard.  It was a female, and
rapidly there passed through the hunter's mind a conjecture of the
circumstances under which the animal was acting.

It had left its young in its forest lair, and had been on a visit to the
river for water or food.  It had not pursued Macora or his attendants,
as its solicitude was for its young, and the dogs were now running in
the direction where these were concealed.

At sight of Groot Willem, the leopard desisted from its pursuit of the
dogs; and, crouching low upon the ground, crawled towards him,--not
slowly, but with a speed only checked by instinctive caution.  As it
advanced, its whole body was covered by the head, its eyes being the
highest part of it presented to the view of the hunter.

The _felidea_ was now within ten yards of him and rapidly drawing
nearer.  Something must be done.  The roer was raised to his shoulder,
and with a steady hand and eye,--nerved by the perilous position he was
in,--he drew a fine sight at the creature's snout and fired.

The shot took effect, for the leopard rolled over, rose up, turned
around two or three times, and for a while seemed to have lost all
consciousness of what had transpired.  Its young and its enemy were for
a time apparently forgotten in the agony it was suffering from a broken
jaw.  This, however, was but for a few seconds, for the sight of the
hunter soon after aroused it to a perfect realisation of all that had
taken place.

Willem, after firing, had run off to about fifty paces, and then stopped
to reload.  While so engaged he kept his eye fixed upon the leopard.  It
was again coming towards him, no longer with the caution it had before
exhibited, but in a manner that showed its whole animal nature was
absorbed by the spirit of revenge.

By the time he had placed the bullet in the barrel of his gun and driven
it home, the brute was close upon him.  There was not time for him to
withdraw the ramrod, much less to put on a cap.  Grasping his roer by
the barrel, he prepared to defend himself, intending to use the weapon
as a club.  The enraged creature was about to make a spring upon him,
when assistance came from a quarter altogether unexpected.

One of the dogs--a large bull-dog called "Smoke"--had not followed the
buffaloes to cover.  It had obeyed its master's command when called back
from the chase.  Just as the leopard was crouching upon the earth to
gather force for the final spring, Smoke seized it by one of the hind
legs.  Not a second of time was lost by Willem.  One more chance for
life had been thus given him, and he hastened to avail himself of it.

The hammer of the lock was thrown back and a cap placed on the nipple in
less time than nine out of ten well-drilled soldiers could have
performed the same feat; but by the time it was done, and the gun
brought to his shoulder, poor Smoke was lying in his death-struggle
along the grass.

The _felidea_ had turned to renew the attack on its human enemy.  One
second more, and its huge body would have been launched against him,--
its sharp claws buried in his flesh.

He pulled trigger and sprang backwards.  A cloud of smoke rolled before
his eyes, and, as this cleared away, he saw the leopard laid out along
the earth by the side of the wounded dog,--like the latter, kicking out
its legs in the last throes of death.

On looking for his companions, Willem saw that Macora and his men,
having stopped at a distance of about five hundred yards off, had
witnessed his victory.  The chief was now hastening towards him on foot,
and was soon by his side, when, pointing to the ox about half a mile
away, he tried to make Willem understand that that animal had carried
him unwillingly away from his friend.

Perceiving all danger was over, the others came up; when, by signs, the
big hunter gave them to understand that he wanted the hide taken off the
leopard.  The four attendants went to work with their short assagais, in
a manner that told him he would not have long to wait for a beautiful
leopard skin, as a trophy of his victory, as also a memento of the
danger through which he had passed.

He himself turned his attention to the wounded dog, which was still
moaning on the ground, and looking at him with an expression that seemed
to say, "Why do you not first come and assist me."

Poor Smoke had sacrificed his own life to save that of his master.  The
creature's back was broken, and it was otherwise severely injured.  It
was evident that nothing could be done for it.  The dog must die, and
the great heart of Groot Willem was sorely afflicted.

Turning to Macora, he observed that the chief had reloaded his musket.
Willem pointed to the dog's head and then to the gun.

The chief took the hint and raised the weapon to his shoulder.

Groot Willem turned away with his eyes full of tears, and went off in
pursuit of his horse.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE LAGOON.

On returning to the camp, they found that Hendrik and Arend had been
successful in their chase of the antelopes, and the greater part of two
were cooking over a large fire.

A quantity of felled timber had been brought to the ground for
construction of the kraal, and the work of building it had already
commenced.

For the labour of his followers Macora would accept nothing but a small
quantity of coffee, a bottle of Schiedam and some tobacco, and in the
evening he took his departure, after seeing his friends safely
established in their camp.

Three of his people were left with the hunters, with orders to make
themselves useful in whatever way they could be employed.  This addition
to the company was, however, a source of great annoyance to the Bushman.
Any communication made to them required the assistance of his rival,
Congo.

Congo had others under him,--people to whom he gave instructions and
commands.  Swartboy had not, and was, therefore, very discontented with
the arrangements.

"You and I must do something to-day," said Arend to Hendrik, as they
were eating their first breakfast at the new camping-place.

"Yes," replied Hendrik, "Willem has one day the start of us in
adventures, but I dare say fortune will favour us ere long."

"She has favoured us all I think," said Willem.  "How could we have a
better prospect of success?  There is apparently an abundance of game;
and we have found people willing to assist us in getting at it,--willing
to perform most of the toil and leave us all of the sport."

"You are quite right," said Hendrik; "our brightest hopes could not have
been crowned by a more favourable commencement, although two days ago we
were repining.  What do you say, Swartboy?" he added, turning to the
Bushman; "are you content?"

"I berry much content, Baas Hendrik," answered Swartboy, with an
expression that did not confirm his words.

That day the young hunters, leaving Swartboy and the Kaffir in charge of
the camp, made a visit to the lagoon, where they expected to find
hippopotami.

They passed by the place where Groot Willem had killed the leopard, and
observed that the bones of that animal, mingled with those of the
faithful Smoke, were scattered over the ground, clean-picked of their
flesh by the jackals and hyenas.

Half a mile farther on they reached the lagoon; and while riding along
its shore, they all pulled up to listen to an unfamiliar and
indescribable sound, that seemed to proceed from two dark objects just
visible above the surface of the water.  They were the heads of a brace
of sea-cows.  The animals were making towards them, uttering loud cries
that could not be compared with anything the hunters had previously
heard.  Any attempt to kill them in the water would only have resulted
in a waste of ammunition; for, with only the eyes and nose above the
surface, there was no chance for a bullet to strike them with fatal
effect.

The monsters showed some intention of coming out and making war; but, on
getting nearer, they changed their design, and, turning about,
floundered off out of reach.

Before proceeding many yards farther, they saw three other hippopotami,
this time not in the water, but out upon the plain.  They were browsing
on the grass, unconscious that an enemy was near.

"Let us get between them and the water," suggested Willem.  "By that
means we will make sure of them."

Riding forward at a sharp pace, the hunters succeeded in this design;
and, for a time, the retreat of the hippopotami appeared impossible.

Instinct does not lead these animals to flee from a foe.  They only make
for the water without regard to the position of the enemy.

On the first alarm, therefore, the three hippopotami started for the
lagoon, going at a heavy rolling pace, and much faster than might have
been supposed possible for creatures of such ungainly shape.  As they
ran in a direct line, the hunters were compelled to glide out of their
way, or run the risk of being trodden under foot.

Hans and Groot Willem were together; and, as soon as the broad side of a
hippopotamus came fairly before them, both fired at the same beast,
taking aim behind the shoulder.  Hendrik and Arend fired about at the
same time at another.

Onward rolled the immense masses towards the river, but before reaching
it the one to which Hans and Willem had devoted their attention was seen
to go unsteadily and with less speed.  Before arriving at the bank, it
gave a heavy lurch, like a water-logged ship, and fell over upon its
side.  Two or three abortive efforts were made to recover its feet, but
these soon subsided into a tremulous quivering of its huge frame, that
ended in the stillness of death.

Its two companions plunged into the water, leaving Hendrik and Arend a
little chagrined by the failure of their first attempt at killing a
hippopotamus.

Hans and Groot Willem had no pretensions to military prowess, and the
first was generally absorbed in some subject connected with his
botanical researches.  But he could claim his share in killing a
hippopotamus under circumstances no more favourable than the two who had
allowed their game to escape.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

HIPPOPOTAMI.

Herodotus, Aristotle, Diodorus, and Pliny have all given descriptions
more or less correct of the hippopotamus, river-horse, or zeekoe
(sea-cow) of the South African Dutch.

So great has been the interest taken in this animal, of which European
people have long read, but never until lately seen, that the Zoological
Society cleared 10,000 pounds in the year of the Great Exhibition of
1851, by their specimens exhibited in the gardens at Regent's Park.

Hippopotami procured from Northern Africa were not uncommon in the Roman
spectacles.  Afterwards, the knowledge of them became lost to Europe for
several hundred years; and, according to the authority of several
writers, they entirely disappeared from the Nile.

Several centuries after they had been shown in Rome and Constantinople,
it was stated that hippopotami could not be transported alive to a
foreign country; but the progress of civilisation has refuted this
erroneous hypothesis, and the harsh, heavy sound of its voice, since
May, 1850, has been familiar to the frequenters of a London park.

According to Michael Boyn, the hippopotamus has been found in the rivers
of China.  Marsden has placed them in Sumatra, and others say they exist
in the Indus, but these statements have never been sustained by
well-authenticated facts, and the creature is now believed to be
exclusively a native of Africa.

Monsieur Desmoulins describes two species,--one the _H. Capensis_, or
the hippopotamus of the Cape, and the _H. Senegalensis_ of the Senegal
river.

How the animal obtained its name would be difficult to imagine, since a
quadruped more unlike a horse could hardly exist.

When in the water, the hippopotamus can place its eyes, ears, and nose
on a level with the surface, and thus see, hear, and breathe, with but
little danger of being injured by a shot.  It is often ferocious in this
element, where it can handle itself with much ease; but on dry land it
is unwieldy, and, conscious of its awkwardness, it is rather timid and
sometimes cowardly.

These huge creatures are supposed to serve a good purpose by uprooting
and destroying large water-plants that might otherwise obstruct the
current of the stream and hinder the drainage of the surrounding
country.

The hide of the hippopotamus is used by the natives for many purposes.
Although soft when stripped off, it becomes so hard, when thoroughly
dry, that the Africans manufacture spears and shields of it.

Many of the Cape colonists are very fond of what they call "zeekoe
speek," which is a portion of the flesh salted and preserved.

The greatest value which the hippopotamus has, in the eyes of man, is
found in its teeth,--its large canine tusks being the finest ivory
known, and much prized by the dentists.  It keeps its colour much
better, and lasts longer than any other used in the manufacture of
artificial teeth.

Tusks of the hippopotamus are sometimes found sixteen inches in length,
and weighing as much as a dozen pounds.  Travellers have even affirmed
that some have been seen measuring twenty-six inches in length; but no
specimens of this size have as yet been exhibited in the museums of
Europe.

The hide of a full-grown hippopotamus is thicker than that of the
rhinoceros; otherwise, it very much resembles the latter.  Its thickness
protects the animal against the poisoned arrows and javelins of the
natives.  But for this, it would soon become extinct in the rivers of
Africa, since, unlike most animals, there is no difficulty in
approaching the hippopotamus within bow-shot distance.  It can only be
killed by the natives after a great deal of trouble combined with
ingenuity.

The plan generally adopted is, by digging pits in places where the
hippopotami are known to pass in leaving the water to feed on the
herbage of the neighbouring plain.  These pits have to be dug in the
rainy season, when the ground is soft; for during the dry months the
earth becomes so hard as to resist the poor implement used by the
natives in place of a spade.  The pit is concealed with much care, and
as months may pass without a hippopotamus straying into the trap, it may
be imagined how strong an effort of perseverance and patience is
required in capturing one of these amphibious creatures.

Another method of killing them is by suspending heavy pointed beams over
their paths, where they proceed from the river to the meadows adjoining.
These beams are elevated thirty or forty feet high, by a line which
extends across the sea-cow's track.  This line is connected with a
trigger, and when rudely dragged by the force of the moving body, the
beam descends upon the animal's back, burying the sharp point in its
flesh.

The use of fire-arms is now becoming general among the natives of
Africa; and, as the value of hippopotamus ivory well repays the trouble
of procuring it, it is not unreasonable to suppose that the ungainly
animal, now one of the commonest sights in the rivers of Southern
Africa, will soon become one of the rarest.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

HUNTING HIPPOPOTAMI.

The hippopotamus killed by Groot Willem and Hans was a fine specimen,--a
bull full-grown and with teeth and tusks large and perfect.

Measuring it with the barrel of his roer, Willem pronounced it to be
sixteen feet in length; and he estimated its circumference around the
body at but one foot less.

Leaving it where it had fallen, they rode to another part of the lagoon.
The fine hippopotami they had seen inspired them with a cheerful
prospect for the future,--as far as hunting that species of game was
concerned,--but a still brighter one was in store for them.

Not half a mile from where the first was killed, they reached a small
pool about four feet in depth.  Seven hippopotami were wallowing within
it, and others were seen grazing the low swampy ground not far-away.
They had been so little molested by man that they were not afraid of
feeding by daylight.  Those in the pool were wholly at the mercy of the
hunters; for they had not the courage to leave it; and the water was not
of sufficient depth either to conceal or protect them.

For nearly half an hour the four young hunters stood by the side of the
pool, loading and firing whenever a favourable opportunity presented.
The seven huge creatures were then left dead or dying, and the hunters
returned to their kraal.

Macora was waiting for them, having come over for the purpose of making
a "morning call."  As a present to the young hunters, he had brought
them a milch cow, for which they were very thankful.

The cow was consigned to the keeping of Swartboy, who had strict
injunctions to look well after it.  "That cow is worth more to us than
either of the horses," remarked Hendrik to the Bushman, "and I would not
trust it to the keeping of Congo; but I know it will be safe with you."

Swartboy was delighted.

When Macora was told that they had that morning killed eight
hippopotami, he became roused to a state of tremendous excitement.  Two
of his attendants were despatched immediately to his village, to convey
the pleasing intelligence to his people, that an unlimited amount of
their favourite food was waiting for them.

Having done enough for one day, the hunters reposed in the shade of
their tent, until about two hours before sunset, when they were roused
by the arrival of nearly three hundred people, men, women, and children,
of Macora's tribe,--all anxious to be led to the bodies of the
hippopotami.

Groot Willem was afraid that the disturbance made by so many people
would drive every sort of game from the neighbourhood, and that they
would have to move their camp.  But knowing this argument would not be
strong enough to convince several hundred hungry people that so large a
quantity of good food should be wasted, no objection was made to
conducting them to the scene of the morning's sport.

Groot Willem and Hendrik, attended by Congo, were soon in their saddles
prepared for a night's shooting at the lagoon.  They started off,
accompanied by Macora and all his following, leaving Hans and Arend to
take care of the kraal.

On reaching the place where the first hippopotamus had been killed in
the morning, a flock of vultures and a pack of jackals were driven from
the carcass; and several of the natives stopped to prevent these
carnivora devouring any more of the animal's body, by appropriating it
to themselves.

Obeying the instructions of their chief, Macora's followers had brought
with them long and strong rheims,--that is, cords made of rhinoceros
hide,--and, on reaching the pool in which the seven dead hippopotami
were lying, Macora gave orders for the carcasses to be hauled out.

This work, under ordinary circumstances, would have been next to
impossible; but taking into consideration the flatness of the ground,
and the united strength of some hundred and fifty men capable of
handling a rope, the thing was soon accomplished.

The task of skinning and cutting up then commenced; while the women and
children kindled fires and made other preparations for a grand banquet.

Until a late hour of the night, the natives remained at work.  All the
flesh not required for immediate use was separated into long slips, to
be dried in the sun, and thus converted into _biltongue_, while the
whole of the teeth were to remain the property of those who had killed
the hippopotami.

The two hunters, Groot Willem and Hendrik, on that night had not far to
travel in order to obtain a sufficiency of their favourite sport.

Attracted by the odour of the slain pachyderms, lions, hyenas, and
jackals came prowling about the pool, loudly expressing their
disapprobation of the fact that they themselves had not been invited to
partake of the feast.  Notwithstanding the large number of human beings
collected upon the spot, the hyenas came close up, and, with deafening
roars, threatened to make an attack.

The guns of Groot Willem and Hendrik were, for a time, kept constantly
cracking, and the ugly brutes at length grew more wary, betaking
themselves to a safer distance.

The hunters had no desire to lose time or ammunition, in mere wanton
destruction of life.  They only desired to kill such game as might
contribute towards remunerating them for the long journey; and they soon
ceased firing at hyenas and jackals.  Leaving the pool, they walked
along the shore of the lagoon, towards the ground where they had seen
the hippopotami during the earlier hours of the day.

Night being the usual time for those animals to feed, the youths
calculated upon making an addition to the list of their prizes,--nor
were they disappointed.

Half a mile from the spot where Macora and his tribe had been left
feasting, was an open plain, lit by the beams of a brilliant moon.  Ten
or fifteen dark objects were seen moving slowly over its surface; and
leaning forward in their saddles, the hunters could see that they were
hippopotami.  They rode gently towards them.

The animals, entirely unacquainted with the dangerous character of those
who were approaching, neither stirred from the spot nor took any notice
of the horsemen, until the latter were within close range of them.

"That seems to be one of the biggest of them," whispered Groot Willem,
pointing to a large bull that was browsing at less than a hundred paces
off.  "I shall make sure of him.  You, Hendrik, take another, and let us
both fire together."

Willem, as he spoke, raised the heavy death-dealing roer to his
shoulder.  Taking aim for the centre of the head, he fired.  The next
moment, the monster was seen staggering backwards, drawing its shattered
head along the ground.

It was not thinking of a retreat to the water,--of retiring through fear
of further danger, or of anything else.  It was in the agonies of death!

This manner of action was not long sustained, for after trailing about
ten yards from where it was struck, it fell heavily on the earth and
turned over on one side, to move no more in life.

Hendrik had fired almost at the same instant of time; but for some
seconds, the creature to which his attention had been directed, made no
acknowledgment of the favour.  It started off, and, along with the
others, made straight towards the lagoon.

For a time, Hendrik was again chagrined to think that the rival hunter
had been more successful than himself.  His chagrin, however, was not
destined to long continuance; for on their way to the water, one of the
hippopotami was observed to tumble over in its tracks.

After loading their guns, the horsemen rode up to the prostrate animal
and found it struggling to rise.  The bullet from Hendrik's rifle had
entered its right shoulder; and another from the same gun now put a
period to its struggles as well as existence.

The two hunters, not yet contented with their success, took cover under
a cluster of trees; and, dismounting from their horses, lay in wait to
see if the hippopotami would again oblige them by coming out upon the
plain.  Neither in this watch were they disappointed.  Occasionally,
they could hear the harsh bellowing of the animals as they came to the
surface of the water, and before long, the bodies of three huge monsters
were seen moving slowly towards them.  Reserving fire until one came
within a few yards of their position, both hunters discharged their
pieces almost simultaneously.

With a cry that resembled the combined snorting of a hog and the
neighing of a horse, the "zeekoe" faced back towards the lagoon; but,
instead of moving off, it commenced turning slowly round and round, as a
dog may be sometimes seen to do before laying himself down to repose.
In a similar fashion did the hippopotamus lie down to rise no more.

Three others were shot on that same night, making fourteen hippopotami
killed within twenty-four hours.  This was a greater number, so Macora
said, than had been killed by his own people within the two preceding
years.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

TO THE GIRAFFE COUNTRY.

After passing some four or five weeks in hippopotamus hunting, Groot
Willem became anxious to engage in the real business for which he had
undertaken the hunting expedition.

They had collected more than seven hundred pounds' weight of the finest
ivory, but this success did not hinder them from becoming weary of a
pursuit that was no longer amusement, but business.

From several conversations held with Macora about giraffes, they had
learnt that the young of those animals could not be taken alive without
the greatest ingenuity and trouble.

Where camelopards are discovered they can easily be run down and shot;
but to secure the young unharmed, is a different affair, and an
undertaking, which, from Macora's account, promised to occupy all the
time that the hunters wished to remain away from Graaf Reinet.

Groot Willem was anxious to secure the name, fame, and reward, now
depending on the delivery of the two young giraffes to the Dutch Consul.
Hendrik and Arend wished to return to their sweethearts; and Hans was
longing to under take his intended voyage to Europe.

Under these circumstances, a proposal from Willem, that they should make
a move, was well received by all.

When the intention and object of their leaving was made known to Macora,
the chief seemed in much trouble.

"I cannot allow you to go alone," said he; "there would be danger in
your journey to my native land, perhaps death.  Instead of capturing
camelopards alive, you might leave your bones to bleach upon the plain.
You must not go alone.  Though we may not procure what you are in search
of, I shall be your companion, and my best warriors shall attend you.
The tyrant Moselekatse may destroy us all, but I will go.  Macora will
not allow his friends to encounter the peril without sharing it with
them.  To-morrow I shall be ready with all my men."

Such was the substance of Macora's speech, as interpreted by Congo; and
the young hunters, much as they respected the chief for his many acts of
kindness towards them, were gratified by this new proof of his
friendship.

He proposed to forsake his home and undertake an expedition of nearly
two hundred miles, in which he had nothing to gain and everything to
lose.  This he was willing to do, out of gratitude to one whom fate had
brought to his assistance through the merest accident.

Macora's offer was not rejected; and preparations for the journey were
immediately commenced.

The ivory obtained from the hippopotami was stored away for safe keeping
until their return.

This was about the only preparation for a departure our adventurers had
to make; but such was not the case with Macora's warriors.  Poisoned
arrows had to be prepared, bows and shields repaired, and assegais
sharpened.

On the morning of the next day after Macora had determined on the
journey, he led forth from his village fifty-three of his best men; and
a start was made towards the North.

Several oxen were taken along, laden with dried hippopotamus flesh,
crushed maize, and other articles of food to be used on the journey.
Several cows were also driven along to yield a supply of milk.

One of the pack-horses belonging to our hunters had been placed at the
disposal of the chief; and on this he rode, generally keeping close by
the side of Groot Willem.

Owing to the nature of the country, and the inability of the oxen for
fast travelling, their progress was but slow.

They found plenty of game along the route, but none of it was pursued
for the sake of amusement.  Only a sufficient quantity was killed to
provide the camp with fresh meat, and no time was lost in procuring it,
as antelopes were constantly coming within shot of the hunters, as they
moved along the line of march.

Only one incident worthy of notice occurred during the journey, in their
camp of the sixth night after starting.  One of the Makololo had risen
to put some fresh fagots on a fire burning near him.  Placing his hand
upon the ground for the purpose of picking up a piece of wood, he
suddenly started back, at the same time uttering a cry of terror.

Several of his companions sprang to their feet; and, for a moment, a
scene of confusion ensued that baffled every attempt on the part of the
young hunters to obtain an explanation of it.  At length, it transpired
that a snake had caused the commotion.  One of about eight feet in
length was dragged up to the light of the fire and submitted to
examination.  It was writhing in the agonies of death.  Its head had
been crushed by a blow.  Its colour, which was nearly black, left no
doubt in the minds of the natives as to the nature of the reptile they
had killed.

"Picakholu! picakholu!" exclaimed several at the same time, and their
attention was immediately turned to the man who had first made its
acquaintance.

He exhibited two deep scratches on the back of his right hand.  On
beholding them, his companions uttered a cry of commiseration, and stood
gazing at the unfortunate man with an expression that seemed to say:
"_You must surely die_."

His colour soon changed to a deeper brown.  Then his fingers and lips
began to move spasmodically, and his eyes assumed a fixed and glassy
expression.

In about ten minutes from the time he had been bitten, he seemed quite
unconscious of anything but agony; and would have rolled into the fire,
had he not been held back by those around him.

In less than half an hour, he was dead,--dead, while the body of the
serpent with the mangled head was still writhing along the grass.

The Makololo was buried at sunrise, three hours after death; and so
virulent is the poison of the picakholu that, ere the body was deposited
in the grave, it was already in a state of decomposition!



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

A GIRAFFE CHASE.

In the evening of the twelfth day after leaving the Limpopo, they
reached a small river, which Macora called the Luize.  He informed the
hunters, that one day's journey down this stream would take him to the
ruins of the village where he had been born and had lived until within
the last two or three years, and his desire to see his native place was
about to be gratified.

On one thing Macora could congratulate himself.  The chief Moselekatse,
by driving him from his country, had profited but little.  All the
Makololo cattle and other objects of plunder had been safely got away
out of reach of the robber chief.  None of Macora's people had remained
in the land, so that there was no one to pay tribute to the conqueror;
and the country had been left to the undisturbed possession of the wild
beasts.

Macora's tribe were not now living in a conquered condition; nor were
they now prevented from paying a visit to their former home.

The plan proposed by the Makololo chief for catching the young giraffes,
was to build a _hopo_ or trap, in some convenient place where a herd of
giraffes might be driven into it,--the old ones killed and the young
ones secured alive.

No better plan could be devised than this, and it was unanimously
adopted.

A site for the _hopo_ has to be chosen with some judgment, so that
labour may be saved in its construction; and, satisfied that the chief
would act for the best, the hunters determined on leaving to him all the
arrangements regarding it.

A suitable place for the trap, Macora remembered having seen, a few
miles down the river; and thither they repaired.

On the way, they passed the ruins of the deserted village, and many of
the natives recognised amid the heaps of rubbish the places that had
once been their homes.

Five miles farther down, they reached the place which was to be enclosed
as a hopo.  It was a narrow valley or pass, leading from a large forest
to the river-bank,--and the variety and quantity of spoor over its
surface, proved that most animals of the country daily passed through
it.

The forest consisted chiefly of mimosa-trees, whose leaves are the
favourite food of the giraffe.  Plenty of other timber was growing near,
such as would be needed in constructing the required inclosure.

Macora promised that his people should go to work on the following day;
when pits should be dug and trees felled for the fence of the hopo.

Willem inquired if they had not better first make sure that giraffes
were in the neighbourhood, before expending their labour in constructing
the trap.  This Macora declared was not necessary.  He was quite certain
that they would be found by the time the trap was ready for receiving
them.  He also advised the hunters to refrain from molesting any
giraffes they might see before the inclosure should be completed, which,
according to his calculation, would be in about two weeks.

The hunters now began to understand the difficulties of the task they
had undertaken, and were thankful for the good fortune that had brought
them the assistance of the Makololo chief.  But for him and his people,
it would have been idle for them to have attempted taking the giraffes
alive.

Well mounted, they might ride them down and shoot as many as they
pleased, but this would have been but poor sport; and even Groot Willem
would, in due time, have got tired of it.  It was not for this they had
come so far.

Next morning, the work of making the hopo was commenced; and to inspire
the young hunters with the hope that the labour would not be in vain,
Macora showed them the spoor of a drove of giraffes that had visited the
river during the night.

The chief would not allow his guests to take any part in the toil, and
unwilling to be idle, Groot Willem, Hendrik, and Arend determined on
making an excursion down the river.

Hans remained behind, content in the pursuit of his botanical studies,
joined to the amusement of killing antelopes, and other game for the use
of Macora's workmen.

Swartboy remained with him.

Wishing to be as little encumbered as possible on an excursion, intended
to last only for a couple of days, Willem and his companions took with
them but one horse, besides those for the saddle.  This was in the care
of Congo, who, of course, followed his master, "Baas Willem."

Nothing could be more beautiful than the scenes passed through on the
first day of their hunt.  Groves of palms, and other trees, standing
over flower-clad plains on which gnoos, hartebeests, and other antelopes
were browsing in peace.  A flock of gayly-plumaged birds seemed at home
in every tree; and everything presented to their view was such as fancy
might paint for a hunter's paradise.  On that day, our adventurers had
their first view of the lordly giraffe.  Seven of those majestic
creatures were seen coming from some hill that stretched across the
plain.

"Don't move," exclaimed Hendrik, "and perhaps they will stray near
enough for us to get a shot before we are discovered."

On came the graceful animals across the sunlit plain, like living towers
throwing long shadows before them.  The trees in perspective seemed
lower than their crested heads.  When within about two hundred yards of
the hunters, the latter were discovered by them.  Turning suddenly in
their tracks, the giraffes commenced a rapid retreat.

"Our horses are fresh.  Let us run them down," exclaimed Willem.  "In
spite of what Macora has said, I must kill a giraffe!"

The three leaped into the saddles, and started in pursuit of the flying
drove, leaving Congo in charge of the pack-horse.

For some time, the horsemen could not perceive that they were gaining on
the camelopards trotting before them in long shambling strides.  They
were not losing ground, however, and this inspired them to greater
speed.

When the chase had been continued for about four miles, and the horses
began to show signs of exhaustion, the pace of the giraffes was also
observed to have become slower.  They, also, were distressed by the rate
at which they had been moving.

"One of them is mine," shouted Willem, as he spurred forward in a final
charge.

A huge stallion, exhibiting more signs of distress than the others, had
fallen into the rear.  The hunters soon came up with him; and,
separating him from the herd, they fired a volley into his massive body.
Their shots should have brought him down; but, instead of this, they
seemed only to reinvigorate his wearied limbs, and he strode on faster
than ever.

The hunters only paused long enough to reload, and then, resuming the
chase, once more overtook the giraffe.

Another volley was fired, Groot Willem taking aim just behind the
animal's shoulder, the others firing skyward towards its head.  The
giraffe stopped suddenly in its tracks, and stood tottering like a
forest-tree about to fall.  Its head began waving wildly, first to the
right and then to the left.  A shuffle or two of its feet for a time,
enabled it to maintain its equilibrium, and then it sank despairingly to
the earth.

Proudly the hunters dismounted by the side of the now prostrate but once
stately creature,--once a moving monument, erected in evidence of its
Creator's wisdom, but now with its form recumbent upon the carpet of the
plain, its legs kicking wildly in the agonies of death.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE CAMELOPARD.

There is perhaps no animal living so graceful in form, more beautiful in
colour, and more stately and majestic in appearance than the camelopard,
now generally known by the French appellation of giraffe.  Measuring
eighteen feet from the hoof of the fore leg to the crest of its crown,
it stands, as an American would express it, "The tallest animal in
creation."  There is but a single species of the giraffe, and from the
elegance and stateliness of its shape, the pleasing variety and
arrangement of its colours, and the mildness of its disposition, its
first appearance in Europe excited considerable interest.

Although this animal was well known to the ancient Romans, and indeed,
played no inconsiderable part in the gorgeous exhibitions of that
luxurious people, yet, with the ultimate overthrow of the Roman Empire,
the camelopard finally disappeared from Europe, and for several
centuries remained a perfect stranger to the civilised world.

It is not until towards the close of the fifteenth century, that we
again hear of the giraffe's appearance,--when it is related that Lorenzo
de Medici exhibited one at Florence.

The first of these animals seen in England was a gift from the Pasha of
Egypt to George the Fourth.  It arrived in 1828, and died during the
following year.

On the 24th of May, 1836, four giraffes were exhibited in the Zoological
gardens at Regent's Park.  They were brought from the south-west of
Kordofan, and were transported to London at an expense of 2386 pounds
three shillings and one penny.

From a casual glance at the giraffe, its fore legs would appear nearly
twice as long as the hind ones, but such is not the case.  This
difference of appearance is caused by the great depth of shoulder,
compared with the hips.  In proportion to the rest of its body, the
camelopard has rather a small head, upheld by a neck nearly six feet in
length, gently tapering towards the crown.  The animal's height,
reckoning from the top of the head to the hoofs of the fore feet, is
about equally divided between neck, shoulders, and legs.  Measured from
the summit of the hips to the hoofs of the hind feet, it rarely exceeds
six and a half, or seven feet.

The head of the giraffe is furnished with a pair of excrescences,
usually called horns, although very unlike the horn of any other animal.
They are of a porous bony texture covered with short, coarse bristles.
Naturalists have, as yet, failed to determine for what purpose these
osseous processes are provided.  They cannot be either for offence or
defence, since they are too easily displaced to afford any resistance in
the case of a collision.

The eyes of the camelopard are worthy of all praise.  They are of large
size, even softer and more gentle than those of the far-famed gazelle,
and so placed that it can see in almost every direction without turning
its head.

All its senses are very acute; and being an animal of timid habit, it
can only be approached by man when mounted upon a fleet horse.

The camelopard feeds on the leaves and blossoms of an umbrella-shaped
tree,--a species of mimosa, called mokhala by the native Africans, and
cameel-doorn (Camelthorn) by the Dutch settlers of the Cape.

As a grasper and feeler, the tongue of the giraffe is used, as the trunk
of the elephants; and its great height enables it to gather the leaves
of the mokhala far beyond the reach of the latter.

The camelopard's skin is exceedingly thick,--often as much as an inch
and a half--and so difficult of penetration, that frequently, twenty or
thirty bullets are required to bring the creature to the ground.  These
wounds it receives and suffers in silence; for the giraffe is dumb.

Unlike that of most other animals, its hairy coat becomes darker with
age.

The colour of the female is somewhat lighter than the male, and she is
also of much inferior stature.

The camelopard can only defend itself by kicking; and it uses its heels
in this way more effectively than any other creature,--the horse not
excepted.  The prominence of its eyes enables it to see behind, when
directing its heels against an enemy, and so secures its taking a
certain aim; while the blow it can give will crush in the skull of a
man, or leave him with a couple of broken ribs.  If unmolested, it is
among the most innocent of animals.

A creature so strangely shaped, and possessing so much speed and
strength, was certainly designed by the Creator for some other use than
browsing upon the leaves of mimosa-trees; but that use, man has not yet
discovered.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

A RACE FOR LIFE.

Leaving the body of the giraffe very reluctantly, (Groot Willem having a
strong desire to take it along with him,) the hunters started off in
search of the river.  Much to their gratification, the Luize, or another
stream equally as large, was seen not far from them, and they rode along
its bank for the purpose of finding a place where they might water their
horses, now thirsty after the long run they had made in chase of the
giraffe.

For about half a mile they found the stream inaccessible, by reason of
the steepness of its banks; but a small pool was discovered a short
distance from the river, and by this they halted to give their weary
horses a little rest.  These also needed food; and it was the intention
to give them an hour or two upon the grass that grew luxuriantly around
the pool.  The saddles were taken off, and the horses turned out to
graze upon it.

"I suppose that Cong will have sense to pack up and follow us," said
Hendrik.

"Yes," answered Groot Willem, "I think we may expect to see him here
within two hours."

"But are you sure that he can find us?"

"Certainly he can," replied Willem.  "He knows that we are bound down
the river, and the stream will guide him.  If not, he has Spoor'em along
with him.  We should probably meet him on his way if we were to go up
the river."

"But we don't want to go up at present," said Hendrik.  "Our way is
down."

"Then we had better stay here till he comes."

While they were thus talking, there was heard a dull, heavy sound,
accompanied by a real or fancied vibration of the earth.

The trees in a neighbouring grove appeared to be shaking about,--some
being upset as if a violent hurricane was sweeping down among them.

The horses took the alarm; threw up their heads, snorted, and galloped
to and fro, as if uncertain which way to retreat.

Next moment, from among the moving trees, emerged a herd of elephants,
each or most of them uttering trumpet-like cries as they entered upon
the open plain.

The horses galloped off the ground; and the hunters, believing that
their lives depended on recovering them, started in pursuit.

Almost on the instant, this purpose had to be relinquished.  One of the
elephants, in advance of its fellows, was charging upon them; and they
would have enough to do to secure their own retreat.  The others went
after the horses, and all seemed to have gone mad with the exception of
three or four that remained by the pool.

The situation of the hunters was now one of imminent danger.  A
well-directed volley might stop the charge of the elephant rushing
towards them, and put the others to flight.  This seemed to be the idea
of all three; for each took aim at the same instant of time and fired in
the same direction.  The volley was delivered in vain.  The elephant,
with louder rear and longer strides, came thundering on, only infuriated
by their attempt to check its course.

There was no time to reload; and all three retreated, with a terrible
apprehension of being overtaken, and that one or two others of them
should fall a victim to the gigantic pursuer.  They ran towards the
stream.  To have gone in any other direction would have been to impale
themselves upon the trunks of the other elephants, now also coming
towards them, aroused to rage by the cry of their wounded companion.

They succeeded in reaching the bank, and thought of throwing themselves
into the water; when a shout from Arend counselled them to a different
course.

"Follow me," cried he, and the next instant he was seen upon the trunk
of a cotton-tree that had fallen across the stream.

So close was the enraged elephant by this time, that Groot Willem, who
was hindmost, felt the tip of its trunk touching the calf of one of his
legs, as he scrambled on to the tree.

The top of the tree was several feet lower than the bank of the river
where its roots still adhered; and in descending the trunk, they had, as
Hendrik said, to "climb downwards."

The branches had lodged on some rocks in the middle of the stream, which
had prevented the tree from being carried away by the current that ran
rapidly past the spot.

For a while, they considered themselves safe; and, although their
situation would have been far from agreeable under ordinary
circumstances, they experienced the indescribable emotions of happiness
that are felt after a narrow escape from some great peril.

The elephant was tearing at the upturned roots of the tree, and making
other impotent attempts to get at them.  They were besieged, but in no
danger for the time of a closer acquaintance with the besieger.

On examining their place of refuge, they saw that the rock on which the
tops of the tree rested, was not more than thirty feet in circumference
at the water's edge; and not half that at the top, which was about ten
feet in diameter.

There was but little more than room for them to stand upon it; but, as
the branches were large and long, they had plenty of room to move about,
proceeding in much the same manner as monkeys would have done in a
similar situation.

From the behaviour of the enemy, he seemed to have come to a perfect
understanding of the position in which they were placed; and, for a
minute or two, he appeared to be meditating whether he should abandon
the siege, or continue it.

Meanwhile, the hunters, after resting for a few moments from their late
severe exertion, commenced reloading their rifles and preparing for
further hostilities.

As though aware of their intention, the elephant quietly walked away.

"He is off now," said Groot Willem, "but we had better not be in any
hurry to follow him.  I can endure a little more rest."

"I hope we shall not have to make a longer stay than will be agreeable,"
remarked Hendrik.  "But we must not leave here until the whole herd has
taken its departure.  Unlike any we have seen before, these elephants do
not seem to be the least afraid of us."

The position in which our hunters were placed was several feet below the
level of the river's bank, so that they were unable to see anything of
the plain above.

Arend proposed returning up the trunk of the tree and giving the enemy a
parting shot, should the animal be still within range.

To this, Groot Willem and Hendrik objected.  They were willing the
elephant should depart, if so inclined, without further molestation from
them.

A few minutes passed and Arend again proposed going up to see if their
enemy was near.  This was also opposed by the others.

"No, not yet," said Willem.  "Let us not show ourselves on any account.
He may be still watching for us, and, seeing you, may think we are
impatient to get away.  That would encourage him to remain.  We must be
as cautious as if we were dealing with a human enemy."

Half an hour passed, and then Groot Willem ascended the tree, until his
head was on a level with the bank.  One glance was sufficient, and, with
a grave countenance, he looked back to his companions.

"It is as I thought," said he, "the brute is still there.  He is
watching for us.  He wants revenge; and I believe that he'll have it.
We shall be hungry before we get away from here."

"Where is he?" asked Hendrik.

"At the pool close by, giving himself a shower-bath; but I can see that
he keeps constantly turning his eye in this direction."

"Is he alone?" inquired Arend.

"Yes; the others appear to have gone off.  There is only himself by the
pool.  We have wounded him; but, for all that, he is able to move
rapidly about; and we shall have to kill him outright before we can pass
him upon the plain."

To this there was no answer, and, Groot Willem again returning to the
rock, all three laid hold of their guns, and prepared to attack the
enemy.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

A CREATURE HARD TO KILL.

Groot Willem again ascended the tree, this time armed with his roer, and
followed by his two companions.  The elephant was still at the pool;
and, to make him leave it and draw nearer, Willem showed himself on the
bank.  This plan did not succeed.  The elephant saw him, but with reason
or instinct that seemed almost human, it was evidently waiting until
they should leave their retreat before again commencing hostilities.

"It's of no use my firing from here," said Willem, "I must endeavour to
get nearer.  Don't be in my way, for in all probability, there may be
another chase."

The distance from the tree to the pool was close upon a hundred yards;
and, after walking from the bank about one third of that distance,
Willem came to a halt.

The elephant, coolly and philosophically, awaited his approach,
apparently satisfied to let him come as near as he pleased.

The position in which the animal stood was unfavourable for Willem to
make his favourite shot; but, as it would not move, he was obliged to
fire at its head.  The report of his gun was answered by a roar and an
impetuous charge.

Willem instantly made for the tree, and secured his retreat, with the
elephant but a few paces in his rear.

At the same time--and without evincing the slightest acknowledgment--the
huge beast received two further shots from Hendrik and Arend.

While the guns were being reloaded, the monster again retired to the
pool.  There it was saluted by seven more balls without even once
attempting to approach its tormentors in their place of retreat.

It now wanted but two hours to sunset, and dark heavy clouds were
descried rolling up from the south-west.  Thirteen shots had been
expended on the elephant, and to all appearance it was still uninjured.
There was a prospect of compulsory confinement before them.  They might
have to remain in their aqua-arboreal retirement the whole night under
the pelting of a pitiless storm.  Three more shots were fired, without
any apparent result.  The rain soon came down,--not in drops, but
dishfuls.

Often as they had been exposed to heavy showers, none of them could
remember witnessing anything like that.  All their care was devoted to
keeping the ammunition and the locks of their guns dry; and any attempts
at breaking the blockade to which they were subjected, was, for a time,
relinquished.

By the last light of day, Groot Willem made another reconnaissance and
found the elephant still patiently waiting and watching.

A night so dark that they could not distinguish each other by sight now
mantled the river, and the heavens above continued pouring forth their
unabated wrath.  They might now have stolen away unknown to the
besieger; but they had no longer the desire to do so.  Confident that
the animal could not keep its feet till morning, after the rough
handling it had received, they resolved upon staying till it fell, and
securing its fine tusks.

Two or three hours passed, and still the rain kept falling, though not
quite so heavily as at first.

"I don't like this sort of thing," said Hendrik.  "Swart and Cong, in
the pits, could not have been much unhappier than we are.  I should like
to know if the enemy is still on guard.  What do you say to our going
off?"

"We mustn't think of it," counselled Arend.  "Even if the elephant be
gone, we cannot find our horses in such a dark night.  If it be still
waiting for us, we could not see it five paces off, while it might see
us.  We had better stay when we are till morning."

"Your advice is good, Arend," said Willem.  I don't believe that we have
a gun among us that could be discharged; if attacked, as we are now, we
should be defenceless.

Arend's suggestion was adopted, and they resolved to remain upon the
rock till morning.

During the night, the rain continued to pour, half drowning them in
their exposed situation.  The hours passed slowly and wearily.  They
began to have serious doubts of ever seeing day again; but it came at
length.

Just as the first faint gleams of the aurora appeared in the east, they
were startled by a sudden crashing among the branches of the tree, and
the next moment, they saw the bridge by which they had reached the rock,
in the act of being carried away by the current!

"Look out!" shouted Arend; "the tree is off.  Keep clear of the
branches, or we shall be swept along with it."

All rushed together to the summit of the rock, reaching it just in time
to avoid the danger thus indicated; and, in another moment, their
communication with the main land was entirely cut off.

The dawn of day found them on an islet of stone, of such limited extent
that there was barely standing-room for the three.  The river, swollen
by the flood, lipped close up to their feet, and was threatening to rise
still higher.  There was the prospect--not a very pleasant one--that
they themselves might be carried off after their treacherous bridge.

The elephant was no longer a cause of the slightest anxiety.  The means
by which they might have placed themselves within the reach of that
danger had been removed; and, like Prometheus, they were bound to a
rock.

The banks on both sides were too high for them to effect a landing, even
should they be able to stem the rapid current.  All three could swim,
and it might be possible for them to reach the shore by swimming down
stream to some place where the banks were on a level with the water.

But to this method of getting out of their difficulty, there were
several objections.  Their guns would have to be left behind, and could
not be recovered.  A distant view of them lying upon the rock might be
all they would ever have.  To abandon their arms was a thing not to be
thought of.  Their hunting would be over for that expedition.

Besides, they were in a part of the river where the current was swift,
turbulent, and strong.  It would carry them down with irresistible
force.  The rapids were full of rough jagged rocks, against which their
bodies might be crushed or lacerated; and the chances were that some of
them might never succeed in reaching the shore in safety.

"And there is another reason why I don't like taking this water trip,"
said Hendrik.  "I noticed yesterday, just as we came forward here, a
couple of enormous alligators.  In all likelihood, there are scores of
them."

"Then I say, stop where we are for the present," said Arend.
"Alligators are always hungry, and I don't relish to be eaten by them."

"I am not yet so hungry as to leave my roer behind me; therefore, I
second your proposal," said Groot Willem.

It was carried _nemini dissentiente_.  They did stay where they were,
but not very patiently.  The sun ascended high into the heavens.  Its
beams seemed to have their focus on the spot where they were standing.
They never remembered having experienced a day so hot, or one on which
all felt so hungry.  Hendrik and Arend became nearly frantic with the
heat and the hunger, though Groot Willem still preserved a remnant of
calmness.

"I wonder if that elephant is watching for us yet?" said he.  "If so, he
is what Swartboy calls Congo,--an 'ole fool!  I'm sorry we can't oblige
him by paying him a visit, and rewarding him for his prolonged vigil."

Willem's attempt at being witty was intended to cheer his disconsolate
companions.  But it was a sad failure.  Neither could reply to it even
by a smile.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

A SEPARATION.

All day long did they stay on the islet of stone.  They were no longer
apprehensive of being swept away by the flood.  They saw that it had
reached its highest, but its subsidence had not yet commenced.

The sun was already in the zenith, hotter than ever, literally roasting
them upon the rock.  The situation was intolerable.

"Shall we have to stay here another night?" impatiently asked Hendrik.

"It looks deuced like it," answered Willem.

"And to-morrow, what shall we do then?" inquired Arend.  "There may be
no better chance of getting off than there is now."

"That is true," said Willem.  "We must think of some way of getting out
of this disagreeable prison.  Can any of you think of a plan?"

"I have a proposal to make," said Hendrik.  "Let one of us take to the
water and look down stream for a landing-place.  If he succeeds in
reaching the bank in safety, he could come up again, and by swinging out
one of those long climbing plants we see hanging to the trees, there
would be some chance of the other two catching it.  By that means we may
get off."

"That's not a bad idea," rejoined Arend; "but which of us is to run the
risk of the swim.  For my part, I'm quite willing to incur it."

"There is certainly great danger," said Hendrik; "but there is also
danger of starvation if we stay here."

"Quite true," rejoined Arend.  "But for my part, I would rather feed a
crocodile than die of hunger myself.  So I'm willing to risk the swim.
If you don't see me on the bank in three or four hours you may conclude
that either the crocodiles have eaten me, or that I've been shattered
among the rocks."

The others would not listen to Arend's self-sacrificing proposal; and
for a time, it was debated among them, as to who should run the risk,
each protesting what under other circumstances he would scarce have
done,--that he was a better swimmer than either of the other two.

As each insisted on taking the peril upon himself,--and none of them
would yield the point, a proposal was made to cast lots.

This was done; and Hendrik, the suggester of the plan, was the one
chosen by fate to carry it into execution.

"I am glad of it," said he, after the thing had been decided.  "It is
but just that I should be permitted to carry out my own proposal.  So
here goes!"

Hastily undressing himself, he shook hands with Arend and Willem,
dropped into the flood, and was away with the rapidity of an arrow.

Anxiously the others gazed after him; but in less than three minutes, he
was no longer under their eyes, the rough rapid current having carried
him clean out of sight.

Two hours passed, which were spent by Arend and Groot Willem in, a state
of anxious suspense.  Two hours more and it became terrible.

"Night is fast approaching," remarked Arend.  "If Hendrik does not
return before night, I shall swim after him."

"Yes, we may as well, while we have the strength to do it," answered
Willem.  "If you go, so will I.  We shall start together.  How long do
you think we should wait?"

"Not much longer.  Certainly within a mile, he ought to have found a
place where he could land.  That distance he must soon have made, at the
rate he was travelling when he left us.  He should return soon now, or
never."

Another hour passed and still no signs of Hendrik.

"Remain you, Willem," proposed Arend, "and let me go alone."

"No," replied the great hunter; "we go together.  I once thought that I
should never abandon my gun as long as I lived; but it must be.  We must
not stay here any longer.  I grow weaker every hour."

The two were taking off their boots and preparing to enter the water,
when their ears were saluted by the sound of a familiar voice.

Congo was seen upon horseback on the bank of the river, just opposite
the rock.

"Nebber fear, baas Willem," shouted he.  "I come back by-'m-by."

As he said this, he galloped away.  The loud roar of an elephant
proclaiming the cause of his sudden departure.

"O heavens!" exclaimed Arend.  "How much longer must we stay here?"

"Until to-morrow, I expect," answered Willem.  "Congo cannot return to
the camp and be back before to-morrow."

"But do you think he will go off without trying to assist us?"

"Yes.  What can he do alone?  Nothing.  He knows that, and has gone for
help.  Of himself, he could not kill the elephant; and even if it was
not there, he could do nothing to get us off the rock."

"The distance to the bank must be about twenty yards.  Of course there
is a way by which we may be got ashore; but it will require a rope.  The
climbing plants would do, but Congo has not noticed them.  I believe
that he understood at a glance the difficulties to be overcome, and has
gone to the camp for assistance."

"I hope so," replied Arend, "and, if such be the case, we need not fear
for ourselves.  We have now only to endure the annoyance of waiting.  My
only anxiety is for Hendrik."

Willem made no reply, but by his silence Arend could perceive that he
had but little hope of ever seeing Hendrik gain.

Slowly the sun went down and the night once more descended over the
rolling river.  Their anxiety would not allow them to sleep, even had
they not been hindered by hunger.  Of water they had a plentiful
supply,--too much of it,--although this was not obtained without some
difficulty, as they had to dip it up in one of their powder-flasks,
emptied for the purpose.

Another morning dawned, and the sun made his appearance,--again red and
fiery,--his beams becoming fiercer as he ascended the cloudless sky.

They had but a few hours more to wait until they might expect the return
of the Kaffir; but would he surely come?  They knew that travelling in
Africa was a very uncertain business.  Their present position was proof
that some accident might occur to hinder him from reaching the camp.

By this time they were almost certain that some serious misfortune,
perhaps death itself, had befallen Hendrik.

As if to confirm them in this belief, just then three large crocodiles
were seen swimming around the rock, lingering there, as though they
expected ere long to get their sharp teeth into the flesh of those who
stood upon it.

The great hunter became angered at the sight.  It suggested the probable
fate of their companion, as it might, in time, be their own.  He seized
hold of his roer, and, drawing the damp charge, freshly loaded the gun.
Aiming at the eye of one of the hideous monsters, he pulled trigger.

The loud report was followed by a heavy plunging in the water, and the
behaviour of the crocodile gave evidence of the correctness of the
hunter's aim.

After springing bodily above the surface, it fell back again, and
commenced spinning around, with a velocity that threw showers of spray
over those, who stood watching its death-struggles.

Its two companions retreated down the river, and, as the brothers saw
them depart, the thoughts of both were dwelling upon the same subject.

Both were thinking of Hendrik!  We also must go down stream, and see
what has become of him.



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

FROM BAD TO WORSE.

On finding himself in the water as he parted from his companions,
Hendrik had not much exertion to make.

A gentle motion of the limbs sustained him on the surface, and he was
borne onward with a velocity that promised a speedy termination of his
voyage.

Some place must soon be reached where the banks would be low enough to
be ascended, and the current not too quick to hinder him from crossing
to the shore.  He was spirited past several rocks, one of which he only
avoided with great difficulty, so swiftly did the current carry him
along.

When about a mile from his companions, as he supposed himself, he saw
that the banks on both sides were shelving and he tried to reach the
shore.

The current was still rapid as ever, and for each foot made in the
direction of the land, he was borne several yards down the channel of
the stream.

The velocity with which he was moving awoke in his mind a vague sense of
a danger not thought of before starting, and altogether different from
those that had been taken into calculation.  His voyage, so far, had
been successful.  He had escaped unharmed by rocks or crocodiles; but he
had evidence that a danger, as much, if not more to be dreaded, now
threatened him.  The water seemed gliding down an inclined plane, so
rapidly was it sweeping him on; and beyond this, directly before him, he
could hear the roaring of a cataract!  What had been at first only a
conjecture, soon became a certainty.  He was going at arrow-like speed
towards the brow of a waterfall.  Throwing all his energies into the
effort, he struggled to reach the shore at a point where the bank was
accessible.

He had nearly succeeded.  Ten feet nearer, and he would have been able
to grasp the o'erhanging bushes.  But that distance, little as it was,
could not be accomplished, and on he glided towards the engulfing fall.

On the brink of the water-precipice he saw the sharp point of a rock
jutting about three feet above the water.  More by good luck, than any
guidance on his part, he came within reach of it as he was hurried
onward.  Reaching out, he caught hold; and hugging it with both arms, he
was able to retain his hold.  His body was swung around to the leeward
of the rock, until his legs hung dangling over the fall.  Although the
force of the current was partly broken by the interposition of the rock,
it required him to exert all his strength to save himself from being
washed over.  After a time, he succeeded in gaining a footing.  There
was a little ledge on the rock just large enough for one foot, while the
other sought support on the pointed apex.  To have attempted to swim
ashore could only end in his destruction.  Though almost within leaping
distance of the bank, he had no place to spring from, and to have fallen
short, would have been fatal.  He could do nothing but remain as he was.

Hours passed, and the torture of standing in one position irksome at
that, became unbearable.  He could only obtain rest by getting into the
water again and hugging the rock with both arms as he had done before.
But this method of resting himself, if such it could be called, could
not be endured longer than two or three minutes, and he was compelled
soon to return to the upright attitude.

"There is not the least danger of crocodiles here," thought he while in
the water hanging on to the rock.  "Should one pass this way, it would
not have time for touching me, even if it were starving."  All night
long did he continue in this dread position.

Morning dawned, and once more he had to endure the agony of gazing on
the bank within a few feet of where he stood, though as unapproachable
as if miles of moving water separated him from it.

Fortune seemed determined to torture him to the last extreme.

There was no hope of his gaining the bank above, and it now occurred to
him to look below.  Craning out as far as he could, he made an
inspection of the fall.  It was about thirty feet in clear descent.
Below, the water ran frothing away and soon became smooth and tranquil,
as if reposing after the violent leap.

Should he allow himself to be carried over the cataract?  This was the
question he now commenced considering.  If he could only have assured
himself that there was deep water underneath, he would at once have
decided to commit himself to the descent.  But there was the probability
that he might be precipitated upon jagged rocks, and of course killed by
the fall.  Besides, he saw that the banks below were steep on both
sides, and he might have to swim for a long distance before being able
to land.  After a descent of thirty feet he might be incapable of
continuing above the surface of the water.  At all events, he would be
in no condition for a long swim.

After long and earnestly debating the question in his own mind he gave
up the thought of making the too perilous attempt.

Notwithstanding the agony arising from his own position, he was not free
from concern for his comrades left upon the rock.

Willem and Arend would in all likelihood come after him, if they had not
already done so.  One or the other, or both, might have left the rock
and been carried over the cataract in the night, unseen by him during
the darkness.

As the time passed on, his sufferings approached the point of despair.
They at length became so great that once or twice was he tempted to put
a termination to them by giving his body to the cataract, and his soul
to Him who had bestowed it.  But this demon of temptation was driven out
of his mind by a mental vision of angelic loveliness.

The remembrance of Wilhelmina Van Wyk came before him like some fair
angel, commanding him to hope and wait.  He obeyed the command.



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

REUNION.

Time was passing.  They upon the islet rock were getting very impatient
for the return of Congo.  They were certain that he would bring
assistance with as little delay as possible, but most of his journey
would have to be made in the night,--a dangerous time for travelling.

He had now been gone long enough to reach the camp and return.  "Sister
Ann" on the watch-tower of Bluebeard's castle could not have gazed more
earnestly than did they for his reappearance upon the bank above them.
Their anxious vigil was at length rewarded.  Near the hour of noon their
ears were greeted by shouts, and shortly after they saw Hans, Congo, and
Macora standing on the bank above them.  The chief was accompanied by
about a score of his followers, carrying long ropes by the direction of
Congo.

"Where is Hendrik?" was the first question of Hans, asked in a trembling
voice.

"We cannot tell," was the reply.  "He swam down the river in the hope of
being able to make the bank below.  We have great fear that some
misfortune has befallen him."

While the three yagers continued the solemn conversation, Macora took a
number of his people a short distance up the river.

Near the bank was found the prostrate trunk of a tree about fifty feet
in length.  It had long been down; and was quite dead and dry.  After
making the lines fast to one end of it, it was pushed into the stream
and directed in such a manner as to drift down to the rock on which the
two youths were standing.  The other end of the rope was firmly grasped
by several of Macora's men.

Swiftly the log, carried by the current, came in contact with the rock;
when the men, keeping the rope on a taut stretch, prevented it from
going farther.

With the nimbleness of a couple of cats, Willem and Arend sprang on to
it, and, setting themselves astride, were hauled to the bank, where both
were at length safely landed.

The first thing they saw, was the body of the elephant at which they had
fired so many shots.  The animal had at length succumbed, sinking into
its eternal sleep in spite of its implacable anger.

As the hunters were no longer in any anxiety for themselves, their
apprehensions became all the more keen for the fate of their missing
friend.  Although suffering greatly from fatigue as well as the want of
food, Willem and Arend would not stay even to eat, till a search had
been made for him.

There is no sentiment of the human mind, unless it is self esteem, that
is capable of resting on so unstable a foundation as hope.  Hendrik had
now been absent more than twenty-four hours.  The chances were a hundred
to one against their ever seeing him again, either dead or alive; and
yet they had hope.

Provided with food to eat along the way, they started down the river,--
many of the Makololo _very_ unwillingly.  They had just performed a
journey of near thirty miles in only a few hours' time, and of course
they were weary.

But this was not the only reason why their exertions were prolonged with
some reluctance.  They had been told of the manner in which Hendrik had
left his companions; and, guided by reason,--instead of a strong feeling
of friendship,--unlike Hans, Willem, and Arend, they had no hope of
seeing him again.  For, from their acquaintance with the country, they
knew of the cataract; and were confident that he must have been carried
over the falls; thence a shattered, inanimate mass rolling onward to
ocean.

When little more than a mile down stream, Groot Willem discharged his
gun.  The report echoed in afar along the banks.  Every one paused and
stood listening to hear if there should be any response.

It came.

Faintly and from afar they could distinguish the sounds of a human
voice.  Uttering a shout of joy, the three hunters rushed forward, and
soon after, when Hans shouted "Hendrik," they heard from the river the
words, "Here, this way."

A minute more, and they were standing within a few feet of the object of
their search, and had a full comprehension of what had hindered him from
returning to the succour of his companions.

As the Makololo had come out well provided with comestibles, the hungry
hunters were fed to their full satisfaction and then all went back to
the place where the elephant had breathed its last.  There forming their
camp, they kindled fires, and made ready to pass the night,--the
followers of Macora feasting upon one of their favourite dishes,--baked
elephant's foot.

Congo had still his tale to tell.  When deserted by the others in their
pursuit of the giraffes, he had waited two or three hours, expecting
them to return.  He then started off along their spoor, but being
hampered by caring for the pack-horse, he progressed but slowly.

Night overtook him by the body of the dead giraffe.  Unable through the
darkness to follow the trail any farther, he remained by the carcass
till morning.

By that time, the heavy rain had obliterated the spoor so completely
that even Spoor'em, the hound, could only follow it with great
difficulty.  After a time, Congo saw that the horse-tracks separated,
going in different directions.  He followed one set of them for some
time till the horse himself was found, but without saddle, bridle, or
rider.

This was Willem's horse, that had taken flight on the approach of the
elephants.

Congo had gone the wrong way for finding his master, and he now returned
upon the horse's tracks.  This, of course, brought him to the place
where the elephant had first charged; and, on reaching the bank of the
river and looking over, he saw the situation in which the hunters were
placed.  But the wounded elephant was there, and this, charging upon
him, hindered him from continuing the observation.  He had seen enough
to knew that he must go to the camp for assistance, and this was just
what he did.

They passed the night by the pool, pleasantly enough.  The joy of once
more being together would have deprived them of sleep, had it not been
for their extreme weariness.  But Hans and the chief, seeing the other
three so exhausted, did not insist on hearing the details of the
dangerous adventure; and at an early hour the camp was buried in the
silence of slumber.

Two horses had been lost.  This, under the circumstances, was a serious
misfortune; but their own lives had been miraculously preserved; and
none of them was now disposed to find fault with fortune for anything
that had occurred.

Next morning, they started back to the place where the giraffe-trap was
being constructed.  On reaching it, they found Swartboy impatiently
waiting for their return.  His expressions of joy at seeing them once
more safe and sound were accompanied with the declaration that they had
been more fortunate than he had expected, considering that they had gone
forth with only Congo for their guide.



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

MISTAKES OF A NIGHT.

As nearly two weeks would be required for constructing the hopo, Groot
Willem determined on making another hunting expedition.  There was
plenty of game in the immediate neighbourhood; but the chief strongly
protested against the firing of guns, lest the sounds should betray
their presence in the place.

Several giraffes had been seen in the mimosa groves, and the banks of
the river were marked with their spoor.

Macora objected to their being alarmed, as it would drive them away
before the pen could be got ready for them.

Groot Willem was a hunter, and out on a hunting expedition.  This being
the case, he could not remain for two weeks idle; and taking Hendrik and
Congo along with him, he left the camp to visit a river, which,
according to the chief's account, lay about thirty miles to the
north-west.  They expected to reach it in one day, and could have done
so, but for a large drove of elands, which was encountered upon the way,
and the pursuit of which delayed them.

They encamped that night, as they supposed, about five miles from the
river, and the next morning continued on, to reach it.  A ride of
between ten and fifteen miles was made, but no river was arrived at.

Early in the afternoon, they came upon a tiny rivulet running out of a
pool, or _vley_.  Supposing it to be a tributary of the river they were
in search of, they concluded that by following it down, they should
reach the main stream.  This, however, they were in no haste to do,
since the country around the pool appeared to be the best sort of
hunting-ground.  The fresh tracks of many varieties of animals could be
seen in the mud; and Willem proposed that they should stay over night
and lie in wait by the vley.

To this Hendrik agreed; and the horses were tethered out to graze.

A suitable place for a pit was chosen twenty paces from the pool, and,
in less than an hour, two excavations were made, in which the hunters
might conveniently conceal themselves.

Early in the evening, leaving Congo at some distance off, under the
protection of a large fire, they repaired to the pits, and there
commenced their silent vigil.

The first animals that made their appearance were antelopes of a small
species; and, as the hunters were not in want of food, no attempt was
made to hinder the little creatures from having their drink and
retiring.

Suddenly there was a commotion in the herd, which ended in a rush from
the pool.  A leopard had pounced on one of them, and, as the others left
the ground, the leopard was seen shouldering its victim with the
intention to carry it off.  As it turned side towards them, Willem
fired, and the large heavy bullet from the roer went crashing through
the creature's ribs.

With a loud roar it sprang upwards; then, standing on its hind feet, it
walked forward a few paces and fell.  The shot had been discharged at
random through the dim light, but a better could not have been made with
the most deliberate aim, and in the light of day.

After this, the pool was visited by hyenas, jackals, and various other
creatures not worth the powder that would be required in killing them.

Some time elapsed, during which the hunters had nothing else to interest
them than listening to the snarls, laughter, and growling of the
carrion-eaters assembled around the pool.

"I can't say there's much sport in this," muttered Hendrik,
discontentedly.  "I've hard work in keeping awake."

Another hour passed without their seeing any game worthy of their
attention, when Willem, too, became weary of inaction.

They were thinking of vacating the pits and joining Congo by the
camp-fire, when something heavier than hyenas was heard approaching the
spot.  With only their eyes above the surface of the ground, they gazed
eagerly in the direction from which proceeded the sound.  Two large
animals appeared through the darkness, evidently approaching the vley.

"Quaggas!" whispered Willem, as he strained his eyes to assure himself
of their species.

"Yes," answered Hendrik.  "Let us knock them over.  They're not much
good, but it will serve to wake us up."

Doubtful whether a shot at anything better might be had that night,
Groot Willem was nothing loath, and was the first to fire.  The animal
at which he had aimed fell forward, and they heard a heavy plunging, as
it rolled over into the pool.

Its companion was about turning to make off when Hendrik fired.  There
was no apparent interruption to its flight, and Hendrik was under the
impression that his shot had missed.  He was soon undeceived, however,
by hearing the animal fall to the earth with a dull heavy sound, at the
same time uttering a groan, which did not seem unfamiliar, and yet was
not the cry of a quagga.

Without saying a word, both leaped out of the pits, and hastened towards
the fallen animals, with a strong presentiment that there was something
amiss.

The animal brought down by Hendrik was first reached.

It was not a quagga, but a horse!

"A horse!" exclaimed Willem as he stooped over the carcass to examine
it.  "It is not mine, thank God, nor yours neither."

"That is rather a selfish remark of yours, Willem," said Hendrik.  "The
horse belongs to some one.  I can see a saddle-mark on its back."

"May be," muttered Willem, who thought nearly as much of his steed as
his great roer.  "For all that I'm glad it isn't mine."

They then proceeded to the vley, where the other horse was still
struggling in the shallow water.  As it was evidently unable to get to
its feet, and wounded to the death, another shot was fired to release it
from its misery.

Wondering to whom the two horses could belong, they returned to the
camp-fire; both under the impression that they had destroyed enough of
animal life for that night.

Early the next morning they left the pool, and, continuing down stream,
within two hours reached the river they had been so long in search of.
Here they determined to stop until the next day, and their horses were
again tethered out; and, as they were somewhat wearied, they lay down to
take repose under the shade of a mokhala tree.  From this they were
startled by the loud barking of Spoor'em and the calls of Congo.

Springing to their feet they found themselves surrounded by a party of
about forty Africans, some armed with spears, while others carried bows
and arrows.

From the hostile attitude of the new-comers the hunters saw that they
meant mischief; and, seizing their guns, they determined to defend
themselves to the last.



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

CAPTURED.

Pushing in front of Groot Willem, Congo entreated him not to make
resistance; and so strong seemed his desire that they should surrender
without making an effort to maintain their freedom, that he caught hold
of the gun which Hendrik had already brought to his shoulder.

"Poison! arrows and spears all poison!" shouted the Kaffir, who appeared
well-nigh scared out of his senses.

Both Willem and Hendrik had heard, seen, and read enough of the African
tribes who use poisoned spears and darts, to feel something of Congo's
alarm.

They were not cowards, but they saw before them several men carrying
weapons more deadly at short distance than their own fire-arms.  Only
one drop of blood had to be drawn by the point of one of their javelins,
to cause certain death accompanied by horrible agonies!

They could not expect to conquer thirty or forty men, without receiving
a scratch or two in the encounter; and knowing this, they took Congo's
advice and surrendered.

When the Kaffir saw that the capture of himself and his masters had been
effected without a battle, he recovered his self-possession, and
demanded of the natives the cause of their strange conduct.

An individual then stepped forward who appeared to have some influence
over the others; and by his eloquence Congo became a little wiser, and a
great deal more alarmed.

The African spoke in a language which only the Kaffir understood.  He
stated that he had lost two horses,--both of which had been killed at a
vley where they had gone to drink.  Although grieved at the loss of his
horses, both which he had received as presents, he was quite happy in
having discovered the party whom he believed to have wilfully destroyed
his property.

The hunters directed Congo to inform him that the horse had been shot by
mistake,--that they very much regretted the circumstance; and were quite
ready and willing to make ample compensation for the damage he had
sustained.

This the black chief declared was all he required, and the hunters were
invited to accompany him to his village, where they could talk over the
terms of compensation.

All started up the river, but the behaviour and methodical division of
their escort convinced the hunters that they were considered as
captives.

"This is very unfortunate," said Hendrik.  "We shall have to part with
something we can ill spare.  They will not be satisfied with trifles,
and perhaps will want our horses in exchange for those killed."

"They shall not have them then," rejoined Willem, with an air of
determination, forgetting at the moment that he was a prisoner, and the
horses already in possession of their captors.

About a mile from the place where the Africans had come upon them, they
reached a small collection of huts, from which issued a large number of
women and children.  It was evidently the kraal of their captors.

The leader of the party lost no time in proceeding to business.  He was
anxious to have his claim settled; so also were Groot Willem and
Hendrik.  Congo was again called to act as interpreter.

The black chief desired him to inform his masters, that the horses he
had lost were of immense value.  They had been given to him by an
esteemed friend, a Portuguese slave-merchant; and he declared that, in
his opinion, they were the best horses in the world.  No others could
replace them.

"Very well," said Groot Willem, when this communication had been made;
"ask him what he expects us to pay."

"All this ceremony is not for nothing," remarked Hendrik, while Congo
was again talking to the chief.  "We shall have some trouble in getting
off from this fellow unless we surrender everything we've got."

"He mustn't be too greedy," replied Willem, "or he will get nothing at
all.  We have performed a silly action, and expect to pay for it."

"Those are brave words," answered Hendrik, "but I don't think we have
power to act up to them.  It will be they who will dictate terms; and
what can we do?"

The chief, before making known his conditions, desired it to be
understood that, a mistake having been committed, on that account he
would not be hard upon them.  He would not punish them for what they had
done, more than to require compensation for his loss, which he at the
same time gave them to understand was wholly irreparable.

From the appearance of the horses they had killed, the hunters believed
that the animals had been left behind by some slave-trader, too merciful
to take them any farther.  They had evidently been used up by a long
journey, and the chief had probably been thanked by their former owner
for allowing them to die a natural death in his dominions.

The amount of damage was at length declared by the plaintiff, who was at
the same time acting as judge.

"Tell them," said he to the interpreter, "that all I require, by way of
compensation, will be their own horses along with their guns and
ammunition."

"What!" exclaimed Groot Willem, jumping to his feet in rage, "Give them
my horse and roer?  No, not for all the horses in Africa."

Hendrik was no less surprised and enraged at the attempt to extort from
them; and, seeing the folly of continuing the parley any longer, the
youths, without saying a word, walked off towards their horses,
intending to mount and ride off.

This intention was opposed by the chief and others of the tribe, when an
affray ensued, in which Groot Willem measured his strength against half
a score of the natives.  In their attempt to take his gun from him,
several were hurled to the earth, and amongst them the chief himself.
He did not desire to discharge the piece.  A shot could only have killed
one, while his enemies were legion.

Whether they would have conquered him without taking his life, or not,
was doubtful, had not one of the Africans, more cunning than his
fellows, adopted an ingenious expedient to terminate the struggle.
Seizing a large cone-shaped basket, used for catching fish, he ran
behind the young hunter and clapped it, extinguisher-like, over his
head.  The basket was immediately laid hold of by two or three others;
by whom the giant was dragged to the earth and held there until they had
bound him with thongs of zebra hide.

Before this feat had been accomplished Hendrik had received a blow from
one of the natives that prevented him from making any resistance; and he
too was trussed up for safe keeping.

Congo had not interfered in the outrage on his masters, but on the
contrary he seemed rather pleased at the turn events had taken.  This,
however, did not prevent the Africans from tying him like the others.

The rage of Hendrik, on awaking from a brief period of stupor and
finding himself fast bound, would be difficult to describe.  There can
be no greater agony to a brave and sensitive man than to find himself
helpless for revenge after having undergone a deep humiliation.

Groot Willem, no less brave but of a different temperament, was more
resigned to the indignity they were enduring.  His anger had been
aroused by the attempt to take from him a thing he greatly prized,--his
gun.  He had been defeated in trying to retain it; but now that it was
gone, and along with it his liberty, he determined to exert some degree
of philosophy and patiently wait for what should happen next.

Congo, who had appeared indifferent to seeing his masters bound,--in
fact rather pleased at it,--now looked sad enough while submitting to
similar treatment.  His fellow-captives could have no sympathy, since
his behaviour had not failed to beget suspicions of his ingratitude.



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

IN THONGS.

The prisoners were compelled to remain inactive spectators of a division
of their property, most of which was appropriated by the chief himself,
as a sort of compensation for the loss of his horses, and the damage his
own person had sustained in the capturing of one of his prisoners.  For,
before securing Groot Willem, he had been sent to the earth under a blow
from that sturdy hunter's roer.

Beyond this present humiliation, the hunters had placed themselves under
another and more serious obligation,--that of satisfying a desire for
revenge.

"It is no use, baas Willem," said the Kaffir, who had managed to get
close beside his master.  "We'll be killed for showing fight."

Congo next expressed his opinion that, had no resistance been offered to
the chief, an opportunity might have been afforded them for returning to
Macora.  He was quite positive now that no chance for this would be
allowed, not even to himself, who had only been pretending to be a
traitor for the sake of gaining favour, and thus being enabled to assist
them, his young masters.

"Do you think they really intend to kill us, Congo?" asked Willem.

"Yaas, baas.  Sure they intend it," answered the Kaffir.  "They 'fraid
now to let us go."

"But, if they intend killing us, why do they not do so at once?"
inquired Hendrik.

Congo explained, that their captors belonged to a wandering tribe of
Zooloo Kaffirs, a warlike people, who had but little respect for white
men.  They were of a race that demanded tribute of the Portuguese at the
north, and obtained it; and he was sure that they would never forgive
the insult of their chief being knocked down in the presence of his
subjects.  That, alone, would lead to their being killed.

His explanation of the reason why they were not killed immediately
showed him to be so well acquainted with the manners and customs of the
people into whose hands they had fallen, that, after its relation,
Willem and Hendrik could no longer doubt the truth of his assertions.

He said that white men were never put to death within sight of the
kraal, lest the affair might be talked of by the women and children in
the presence of other white men who might pass through the country.
Although all might be well aware of their fate, but few would witness
their execution.  They would be led away some night, two or three miles
from the village and then put to death.  Their executioners would return
to the kraal with the story that they had been sent back to their own
country.

The chief, Congo believed, was not yet ready to witness their execution,
being too well pleased with his late acquired property to think of any
other business for the present.

Willem and Hendrik, after all that had been told them, were not prepared
to give up every hope.  Some chance to escape might offer, though it
should be with bare life; for they could not expect to take with them
their horses and guns.

As evening came on, the watch over the prisoners seemed less strictly
kept than during the earlier hours of the day.  But in vain they strove
to rend the thongs that bound them, or slip from their embrace.  They
had been too securely tied, most likely by one whose experience, alas!
had been but too well perfected in the enslavement of his own unhappy
countrymen.

During the evening, an individual was observed approaching.  Stepping up
to where Groot Willem was bound, he commenced an earnest scrutiny of his
features.

Willem fancied that the man had a familiar look, and, examining him
attentively, he recognised no less a personage than the banished Sindo,
the individual whom he had saved from the wrath of Macora.  Here was a
sudden transition from despair to hope.  Surely the would-be chief could
not be ungrateful!  Perhaps he would intercede in their behalf!  This
was but his duty.

Willem strove to make him understand that he was recognised, hoping the
knowledge of that would stimulate him to exert himself on their behalf.
The attempt wholly failed.  With a scornful expression upon his
features, the man moved away.

"That's Sindo," muttered Willem to his fellow-prisoners.  "He appears at
home among them.  Will he not assist us?"

"Yaas, that is Sindo," said Congo, "but he no help you."

"Why do you think so, Cong?"

"He no big enough fool do dat."

This might be true.  Sindo had once got into trouble through treason,
and had narrowly escaped death.  He would be a fool to incur such a
danger again, in the new home he had found for himself.

This was the construction Groot Willem was inclined to put on the
African's conduct.  Sindo was acting ungratefully.  He had not shown the
slightest sympathy for those who had befriended him in his hour of
adversity.  On the contrary, he had cut their acquaintance in the most
unceremonious manner.

All night long they lay in their thongs.  Morning came and still they
were not set free.

"What does this treatment mean?" asked Hendrik.  "What do they intend
doing with us?"

"I am beginning to have fears that Congo is right," answered Willem.
"They do mean harm.  They have robbed and kept us tied up all night.
Those acts look suspicious."

"But dare they deprive us of life?" asked the ex-cornet.  "We are white
men, and of a race who avenge each other's wrongs.  Will they not be
afraid of the consequences of proceeding to extremities?"

"So I once would have thought," replied Willem, "but from the way we are
now treated, I believe they fear nothing."

"I tell you, baas Willem," joined in Congo, "the chief here got too much
fear."

"Indeed!  He has a peculiar way of showing it."

"I mean, he's 'fraid to let us go.  We'll have to die, baas Willem."

The Kaffir uttered these words with a resigned expression of
countenance, that proclaimed him inspired by a firm conviction of their
truth.

"Must this be, Hendrik?" said Willem, turning to his companion.  "It
hardly seems possible.  Tell me, am I dreaming?"

"I can answer for myself," replied Hendrik, "for I was never more awake.
The rheims around my wrists are nearly cutting off my hands.  I shall
die if I have to remain tied up much longer.  But dare these people put
us to death?"

For a time, the captives remained silent.  They were reflecting upon the
many atrocities which they had heard to have been committed by Zooloo
Kaffirs on the white settlers of the Cape country,--deeds of unprovoked
violence performed much nearer the reach of retribution than these now
were.  The savages into whose hands they had fallen were protected by
distance from any chance of being chastised from the south; and they had
no respect for the cowardly Portuguese of the north.

This was not all.  The hunters had first done them an injury, and then
refused what had been demanded for compensation.  In that resistance, a
chief had been outraged by a blow.  Moreover, there was property which
the natives dearly prized; and the safest way to secure it would be to
render their captives incapable of ever afterwards claiming it, or
seeking redress for the spoliation.

The whole case wore a black look.  Our adventurers began really to
believe that Congo was telling the truth, when he said, they _would have
to die_!



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

LED OUT TO DIE.

Another day passed over, and no change was made in the treatment of the
prisoners.  In fact very little notice was taken of them, except by the
women and children.  The chief with some others of the tribe spent the
day amusing themselves by firing the captured guns at a target, and
learning the use of the various articles they had taken from their
captives.

"What are they waiting for?" exclaimed Hendrik in an impatient tone.
"If they are going to put us to death, it would be almost better for us
than to endure this misery."

"True," rejoined Willem; "life is not worth much, suffering as we do;
still, where there's uncertainty, there is hope.  Think of that,
Hendrik.  We have seen nothing of Sindo to-day.  How carefully the
ungrateful wretch keeps out of our sight!"

"If we were not in need of a friend," said Hendrik, "I dare say he would
acknowledge our acquaintance.  But never mind.  He's the last that will
ever prove ungrateful, since we're not likely ever again to have an
opportunity of befriending any one in distress."

Night came on, and amongst the tribe the captives observed an unusual
excitement.  Several of the men were hurrying to and fro carrying
torches and evidently making preparations for some great event.  The
horses were also being saddled.

"I tole you so," said Congo.  "They take us away to die."

Willem and Hendrik remained silent spectators of what was going on.  A
party of the natives then approached them, and the three prisoners were
set loose from the trees.  Some scene, solemn and serious, was about to
be enacted; but worn out with their misery, and weary of their long
imprisonment, almost any change appeared a relief.

The chief of the tribe was now seen mounted on Willem's horse, heading a
procession of from ten to twelve men.  He rode off towards the pool,
where his horses had been killed.  The prisoners were conducted after
him.  Spoor'em and the other dogs accompanied the party, wholly
unconscious of the fears that troubled their masters.  As the procession
passed out of the village, the old men, women, and children were ranged
along the road, to see them depart.  These gazed after them with
expressions of curiosity, not unmingled with pity, though there were
some that appeared to show satisfaction.  The captives observed this,
and talked of it.  Why did they, the villagers, feel so much interested
in their departure?  They had not taken much heed of their arrival; and
but little attention had been paid to them while bound to the trees.
Why should there be now?  There was but one answer to these questions.
The natives were looking upon them with that expression of sad curiosity
with which men gaze upon one who is about to suffer a violent death.

The chief was carrying Willem's roer, and from his behaviour he seemed
preparing for an opportunity to use it.  At intervals he brought it to
his shoulder and glanced along the barrel.

"Ask them where we are being taken, Congo," said Hendrik.

The Kaffir spoke to one of the natives who was near him, but only
received a grunt in reply.

"He don't know where we go," said Congo, interpreting the gruff answer
to his question, "but I know."

"Where?"

"We go to die."

"Congo!" exclaimed Willem, "ask after Sindo.  He may do something to
save us, or he may not.  There can be no harm in trying.  If not, we may
get him into some trouble for his ingratitude.  I should feel a
satisfaction in that."

In compliance with his master's command, Congo inquired for Sindo.  The
chief heard the inquiry and immediately ordered a halt, and put several
questions to his followers.

"The chief just like you, baas Willem," said Congo.  "He too want know
where Sindo am."

The procession was delayed while the parley was going on.  After it had
ended, the chief and another rode back to the village;--they were now
about half a mile distant from it.  The prisoners, with their guards
remained upon the spot.  The chief was absent nearly an hour, when he
returned seemingly in a great rage.  By his angry talking, every one was
made aware of the fact.  Congo listened attentively to what he said.

"He's talking about Sindo," said the Kaffir.  "He swear he kill dat
nigga to-morrow."

"I hope he'll keep his oath," said Willem.  "I suppose we have succeeded
in awaking his suspicions against the wretch he was harbouring; and he
will be punished for his ingratitude.  He should have tried to save
us,--even at the risk of having again to make change of his tribe."

The march was again resumed, the chief leading the way with two of his
subjects, one on each side of him carrying torches.

After proceeding a little farther the prisoners recognised the spot
where they had been made prisoners.  The chief then delivered an
harangue to his followers, which Congo interpreted to his
fellow-captives.  The bearing of it was, that the white strangers had
wilfully and maliciously killed two of his horses,--the finest animals
in the world.  They had refused to make such reparation as lay in their
power; and, when he had attempted to recompense himself for their loss,
he had been resisted, knocked down, and severely injured in the presence
of his own people.  He stated, furthermore, that it was the unanimous
opinion of the oldest and wisest of his subjects, that for these crimes
the prisoners ought to be punished,--that the punishment should be
death; and that he had brought them to the spot where the first offence
had been committed as a proper spot for executing this just decree.

After Congo had translated the speech to his fellow-captives, they
directed him to inform the chief that he was welcome to the horses,
guns, and other property, if he would let them depart, and they would
promise never to return to his country or trouble him any more.
Moreover, they would send him a present, by way of ransom for their
liberty and lives.

In answer to this communication they were told, that, as they were white
men, their words could not be relied upon.  Instead of presents, they
would be more likely to seek some revenge; and that, to guard against
this, he was determined they should die.

Against this decision they were not allowed to make any appeal.  From
that moment no attention was paid to anything they said.  Their guards
only shouted, when Congo attempted to put in a word; while those who
were around the chief began to make preparations for carrying out the
dread sentence of death.



CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

JUST IN TIME.

It was soon known to the captives, what mode of death was to be adopted
for them.  The gestures of the chief made it manifest, that he was about
to make trial of his new weapon,--Willem's roer.

One reason why his prisoners had been spared so long may have been for
the purpose of learning how to use the weapon with effect, on an
occasion so important as the execution of two white men.

The rheims that bound Hendrik's wrists had been tied much tighter than
was necessary.  The green hide had shrunk in the burning sun to which
the prisoners had been exposed during the day.  In consequence, his
hands were lacerated and swollen, and he was suffering more torture than
either of the others.

This was not all the agony he was enduring.  The fate Congo at first
only conjectured had now assumed a horrible certainty.  Death seemed
inevitable; and Hendrik's active mind, susceptible of strong emotions,
became painfully anxious at the approach of death.  He feared it.  Nor
did that fear arise from an ignoble cause.  It was simply the love of
life, and the desire to cling to it.

He who loves not life is unworthy of its blessings; for those who hold
them cheap, and would part with them willingly, have either not the
sense to appreciate, or are so evil as only to know life's bitterness.

Hendrik had a strong desire to live,--to enjoy future days;--and, as he
looked upon the preparations being made to deprive him of it, he felt an
unutterable anguish.  Of all his regrets at parting with the world,
there was one supreme,--one thought that was uppermost.  That thought
was given to Wilhelmina Van Wyk.  He should never see her again!  His
love of her was stronger than his love of life.

"Willem," he exclaimed, "must this be?  Shall we die here?  I will
not,--I cannot!"

As he spoke, the whole strength of his soul and body was concentrated
into one effort for regaining his liberty.  He struggled to release his
wrists from the rheims.  The effort was not without a result.  It sent
the drops of blood dripping from the ends of his fingers.

Groot Willem was not unmoved in these dire moments.  He too had his
unwillingness to die,--his chapter of regrets.  One, that he should
never again see his relatives; another, that the object for which he had
undertaken the expedition could never be accomplished.

The faithful Kaffir was not rendered insensible by knowing that death
was awaiting him, and now near at hand.

"Baas Willem," he said, looking pityingly upon his young master, "you be
going to die.  I bless that God your father and mother has told me
about.  I never more go back to Graaf Reinet, to see them cry for you."

The arrangements for the execution were by this time completed; but the
cruel chief was not allowed to try his skill in the manner he had
designed.

Just as he was about to raise the roer to his shoulder and take aim at
one of the condemned captives, a large party of dark-skinned men made
their appearance upon the spot.

In the scene of confusion caused by their arrival, the would-be
murderers knew not whether they were friends or foes, until they heard a
war-cry that was strange to their ears, and saw themselves surrounded by
a body of stalwart warriors armed with bows, spears, and guns,--at least
two guns were seen, carried by two white men, whom the captives joyfully
recognised.  It was Hans and Arend.  Their companions were Macora and
his Makololo.

The reprieve was effected in an instant, and along with it the release
of the prisoners.

There was no occasion for the shedding of blood, for there was no
resistance made on the part of the intended executioners.  Their
captives were at once delivered up along with their guns, horses, and
other property,--the principal part of which was restored before any
explanation could be given.

And now again was Groot Willem called upon to obey the dictates of a
humane heart, and intercede with Macora to obtain mercy for others.  But
for him, the Makololo chief would have put to death every Zooloo upon
the ground, and then proceeded to their village to seek further
retaliation.

They all united in restraining him from violence; and the baffled
murderers were permitted to take their departure without the least
outrage being inflicted upon them.

"Your arrival was very fortunate," said Hendrik, addressing Hans and
Arend.  "Just in the nick of time; but to me it is very mysterious.  How
came you and your friends here to know of our dilemma?"

"There's no great mystery about it," answered Hans.  "When we were told
this morning that you were captured and in danger of being killed, of
course we started immediately, and have been travelling all day in hot
haste to your rescue."

"But how was it possible for you to learn that we were in trouble?"

"From Sindo, the man Macora was going to kill for his ambition."

Sindo, then, had not been ungrateful; he had walked, or rather run, all
night, to give warning of the danger threatening those to whom he owed
his life.  Having no influence among their captors, he knew that the
only plan for serving the captives was to give notice to those who had
power to assist them.  This act of gratitude he had successfully
accomplished.

There is many a slip between the cup and the lip.  The adage was in
their case illustrated.  But for the mention of Sindo's name, as the
captives were being conducted to the place of execution, awakening in
the Zooloo's mind a suspicion of treachery, the rescuers would have
arrived too late.  The delay caused by the inquiry after Sindo, at the
village, was that which had caused the cup to slip.

The released captives now inquired for Sindo, wishing to embrace him.

He was not upon the ground.  Completely exhausted with his long run, he
had not been able to return with the deliverers, but had remained at the
camp, where the hopo was being constructed.

No time was lost in staying by a spot fraught with so many unpleasant
memories; and by the dawn of day our adventurers and their African
friends were well on the way towards their encampment.

On reaching it they found Swartboy in a state of strange mental
confusion, through joy at their return, and anger at Congo, for having
allowed those under his care to get into such terrible trouble.

The service that Sindo had rendered his white friends fully
re-established him in the favour of Macora, and he was invited to make
his home again among his own people,--an invitation that was eagerly
accepted.



CHAPTER THIRTY.

THE HOPO.

Groot Willem was, for the time, cured of the desire to seek further
adventures in the chase.  He had come to the place for the express
purpose of procuring two young giraffes, and taking them safely to the
Dutch consul.  The experience of the last few days had shown him that
his object would not be better accomplished by thus exposing himself to
the chances of dying some horrible death.  Guided by this dearly-bought
belief he was contented to amuse himself by joining the Makololo in the
construction of the trap.  In this work he was assisted by the other
three, all of whom were now thinking more of home than of giraffes, or
anything else.

The trap was to consist of two high fences converging upon each other,
so as to form a figure somewhat in shape like the letter V.  They were
to be about a mile and a half long; and at the point of convergence a
space was to be left open, wide enough to permit of the largest animal
to pass through.  Beyond the angle, or where it should have been, had
the fences met, was dug a pit about forty feet long, fifteen wide, and
eight deep.  Heavy trunks of trees were laid along its edges, slightly
projecting over them.  The intention was, that any animal driven through
would be precipitated into the pit from which escape would be
impossible.  Near it the fences were made of great strength and height,
to resist any attempt at leaping over them, or pressing them down.

The pit was covered with reeds and rushes; and no means were neglected
to make the hopo as effective as possible for the purpose required of
it.

Working with a will,--both white hunters and black Makololo,--the hopo
was soon pronounced complete, and ready to receive the game; and the
next day was appointed to carry out the objects of its construction.  A
mimosa forest lay in front of it,--for on this account had the situation
been selected.  This forest was to be "beaten" by the men of Macora, and
all its four-footed denizens driven into the trap.

Early in the morning the whole tribe, with the white hunters and their
dogs, mustered for the grand drive.  They were divided into two parties.
Willem, Hendrik, and Macora led one to the left, while Hans, Arend, and
a principal warrior and hunter of the Makololo conducted the other to
the right, thus taking the mimosa forest on both flanks.  The area to be
surrounded was about four miles in length and three in breadth.

On arriving at its northern edge, the great cover was entered by the
beaters along with most of the dogs.  The white hunters, who were
mounted on their own horses, and some of the Makololo who rode upon
oxen, kept along the borders, to prevent the startled game from breaking
cover at the sides.  For a time the beaters and their canine companions
appeared vying with each other, as to which could make the greatest
noise; and the effect of their united efforts was soon observed by those
riding outside the timber.

Before they had proceeded half a mile from the point of separation, they
had sufficient evidence that the repose of many species of wild beasts
had been disturbed.  Mingled with the loud trumpeting of elephants were
the sounds of crashing branches, the roar of lions, the shrieks of
baboons, and the wild, horribly human, laughter of hyenas.

Those riding outside had been instructed by Macora to keep a little in
the rear of the line of beaters; and the wisdom of this counsel was soon
made clear to Groot Willem and Hendrik.  A herd of elephants broke from
the bushes, but a few yards ahead of them, and were allowed to shamble
off over the plain unmolested.  They were not wanted in the trap.

Some zebras also broke from the cover soon after and they also were
permitted to escape scot free.

When not far from the termination of the drive, at that side where
Willem and Hendrik were guarding, a grand drove of buffaloes rushed into
the open ground.  Fortunately the party were at some distance from the
timber at the time, and also a little to the rear of the rushing herd,
else they would have had some difficulty to escape from being run over
and trampled to death.  Several of the buffaloes left the forest nearly
opposite to them, and in joining the main drove they took a course that
caused the hunters some hard riding to get out of the way of their
horns.

Immediately after the fortunate escape of the buffaloes,--fortunate for
the hunters themselves,--the eyes of Groot Willem were blest with the
sight of the objects he most desired to see.  A small herd of seven or
eight giraffes, in escaping from the skirmishers, noisily advancing
among the trees, shot forth into the open ground.  They were near the
funnel-shaped extremity of the trap.  If once outside the fence they
would get off; and the toil of two weeks would all have been undertaken
to no purpose.  Striking the spurs into the sides of his horse, Groot
Willem, followed by Hendrik, galloped forward to cut off their retreat.
Never did Willem remember a moment of more intense excitement.

Two young giraffes were seen with the herd.  Were they to escape the
enclosure of the _hopo_?  A few seconds would decide.  The herd and the
hunters were now moving in two lines at an angle to each other, their
courses rapidly converging.  This was soon observed by the timid
giraffes; and, unconscious of the danger that threatened them, they
turned and were soon within the wide and far-extended jaws of the hopo.

Had they continued in their first course only a few paces farther, they
would have been safe from the fate that awaited them; but, as man
himself often does, in seeking safety they took the direction leading to
danger.

The beaters had now reached the termination of the mimosa forest; and
the parties from both sides were now coming together to the open ground.
Within the two walls of the hopo they could see before them a living,
moving mass, composed of many varieties of animals; among them they saw
with regret two elephants and a rhinoceros.

Towering far above the heads of all others were those of the giraffes,
which seemed striving to be the foremost in precipitating themselves
into the pit.

The mass of moving bodies became more dense, as the space in which they
moved grew contracted by the enclosing fences.

When about a quarter of a mile from the pit, the sagacious elephants
turned, and, seeing an army of men and dogs advancing towards them,
broke through the fence and were free.  Several zebras--much to the
delight of the hunters--followed through the breach they had made.  The
camelopards were too far ahead to avail themselves of this means of
escape.  They were doomed to captivity.

The Makololo were all mad with the excitement of the chase.  Uttering
discordant ear-piercing yells, they rushed onward, impatient to witness
the struggles of the multitudes of victims certain to be precipitated
into a hole, towards which they were rushing heedless of all else but
fear.  Every demoniac passion existing in earthly life appeared to be
fully aroused within the souls of their pursuers.  They seemed frantic
with rage at the escape of the elephants, though these would undoubtedly
have defeated the object for which the hopo had been erected.  Their
only object seemed to be the destruction of animal life, the shedding of
blood, the sight of agony.



CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

DISAPPOINTED.

Before reaching the pit, several antelopes and other animals had been
passed,--killed or injured in the crush and rush.  Such of these as were
still living, received but a passing glance and a blow from those who
were hastening onward to a scene more wild--more frightful and horribly
human in origin and execution--than words will describe.

The novelty and excitement of the scene, and the infectious example of
the maddened Africans, inspired Groot Willem and his companions with a
savage, blood-seeking intoxication of mind that urged them forward with
nearly as much insane earnestness as the most frenzied of the Makololo.

The herds they had been driving before them were now concentrated into a
quivering, struggling, noisy mass.  The pit was soon full of roaring,
bellowing, bleating, growling victims of the chase, that were piled one
upon another, until hundreds escaped by passing over the backs of those
that had preceded them.

When the overflowing of the pit had passed off, and the hunters came up
to gaze on what remained, they beheld a scene never to be forgotten in
life.  Underneath, they could hear the roaring of a lion, being
smothered by its favourite game.  For the first time, it had too many
antelopes within its reach.  There was one creature in the crowd that
was not to be overlain by the others.  It was the muchocho, or white
rhinoceros, they had seen while driving in the game.  Every time it
moved, bodies were crushed, bones broken, and the cries of rage and
distress from what seemed a miniature representation of a perdition for
animals became imperceptibly diminished by several voices.  The muchocho
was apparently standing on its hind legs in the bottom of the pit, while
the upper part of its body was supported by the creatures that were
screaming under its immense weight.

Mingled with the struggling mass were seen some of the camelopards; and,
fearing they might be subjected to the destroying power of the huge
rhinoceros, Willem placed the muzzle of his roer near one of its eyes,
and fired.

The report of the gun was scarcely heard, so stunning to the ears of all
was the fracas that continued; though the effect of the discharge was
soon evident on the muchocho.  It ceased to live.

All hands now set to work at clearing the pit, in order to save the
young giraffes from being killed; that is, if they were yet living.
Rheims with loops at the ends were thrown over the heads of the
antelopes and other small game, by which they could be hauled out.

After a short time spent at this work, a partial clearance was effected.
The body of a young giraffe was now carefully got out.  It was examined
with an interest verging on delirium.  It was quite warm, but lifeless,
its neck being broken.

One of the old ones,--a large bull,--struggling violently, was now the
most conspicuous animal in the pit, and being, as Hendrik said, "too
much alive," was killed by a bullet.

The head and neck of another young giraffe was seen, whose body was
nearly buried under animals larger than itself.  It was apparently
unharmed.  Every care was taken to get it out without injury, and it was
drawn gently up and two rheims placed around its neck, in order to
hinder it from running away.  It was not more than two months old,--just
the age the hunters desired,--but it soon became evident that there was
something wrong.  While continuing its struggle for freedom, they
observed that one of its fore feet was not set on the ground.  The leg
was swinging to and fro.  It was broken.

The creature was young, bright, and beautiful, but could not be taken to
the Colony.  It could never visit Europe.  The only favour that could be
shown this suffering, trembling, frightened victim of Groot Willem's
ambition was to put it out of pain by shooting it, and the young hunter
witnessed its death with as much pity and regret as he had felt at the
loss of poor Smoke.

The pit was at length emptied; and the hunters now paused to contemplate
their spoil.  Seven giraffes had been destroyed, nearly all of them by
having their necks broken.  These, six or seven feet in length, had been
too delicately made to resist the impetus of the heavy herds passing
over them.

Although they had failed in procuring what they wanted, it was not yet
proved that the hopo had been built in vain.  It might still be
available for another time.  So they were informed by Macora, who said
that, in two or three days, other giraffes might be found in the mimosa
grove, and a second drive could be tried.

This partly reconciled the hunters to the disappointment of the day,
though all felt a strong regret that two of the beautiful creatures,
such as they wished-for, had been driven into the trap only to die.
Many herds might be discovered, without having among them any young,
such as the two now lying dead at their feet.  Other young camelopards
might be caught and killed; but many failures must occur before Groot
Willem would relinquish the undertaking for which he had travelled so
far.

The time was not wholly lost to the Makololo, for a supply of food had
been obtained that would take them some time to preserve, and longer to
eat.

The day after the grand hunt, long rheims, suspended on upright poles,
were covered with strings of meat drying in the sun, while all the
bushes and small trees in the vicinity were festooned after the same
fashion.  For the dried meat, or _biltongue_, only the best and
favourite portions of each animal were used, and the rest was removed
beyond the encampment, where it formed a banquet for vultures, hyenas,
and other carrion creatures of the earth and air.

Three days after the butchery, all that remained of the slaughtered
animals was the dried meat and polished bones.



CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

DRIVEN AWAY.

Four days after the unsuccessful attempt to capture the young giraffes
in the hopo, the spoor of others were found on the river-bank.

Another herd of camelopards had made a home in the forest of
_cameel-doorn_.  Some of the herd were young.  This was evident from the
spoor.

The hopes of Groot Willem, that he might succeed in accomplishing his
dearest wishes, were again high and strong; and his companions were no
less enthusiastic.

Another attempt to fulfil their mission might be successful.

If so, Hendrik and Arend within a few weeks would be in the society of
those of whom they were hourly thinking, and Hans would be making
preparations for the long-contemplated visit to Europe.

The chief Macora had not shown the least inclination to abandon them on
the failure of the first attempt.  He had promised his assistance until
the object they desired should be obtained; and, although domestic and
political duties called him home, he stated his determination to stay
with them.

His promise had been given to Willem, and everything was to be
sacrificed before that could be broken.

For his devoted friendship the hunters were not ungrateful.  They had
learnt by this that without his assistance they could do nothing.

On the evening before the day intended for the second trial of the hopo,
the giraffe hunters, in high spirits, were sharing with the chief their
last bottle of Schiedam, as a substantial tribute of respect to the man
who had made their wishes his own.

While indulging in pleasant anticipations of the morrow, their designs
were suddenly upset by a communication from Sindo.

He had but just returned from a journey to the north,--to the place
where he had found a home after being banished by Macora,--to the tribe
which owned for its chief him whose horses had been shot by our hunters.

Sindo's visit had been a stolen one, for the purpose of bringing away
his wife and children.  In this he had been successful; but he had also
succeeded in bringing away something more,--information that the Zooloo
chief, that our young hunters had offended, was still thirsting for
revenge for his losses and disappointments.

He had seen Moselekatse, the tyrant-king of all that part of Africa, and
had informed him that the Makololo chief, Macora,--his old enemy,--had
returned to his former home, and had robbed a friend of the noble chief
Moselekatse of valuable property,--of horses, guns, and slaves.

A large force had immediately been sent to capture Macora and his
people, or chase them, as Sindo said, "out of the world."

The enemy might be expected in two or three hours!

Sindo's warning was not unheeded; and scouts were at once sent out to
watch for the approach of the enemy.  A danger that Macora had already
apprehended was now threatening them.

Early next morning the scouts returned with the report that
Moselekatse's warriors were indeed coming.  They had camped during the
night about five miles off, and might be upon them within an hour.

Hastily springing upon their horses, Arend and Hendrik galloped off in
the direction of the enemy, for the purpose of making a reconnaissance.
During their absence the others were packing up all their valuables, and
making preparation for either a fight or a flight.

The two cornets returned half an hour afterwards, bringing the report,
that about three hundred armed men were approaching.

"There is not the least doubt but that they mean war," said Hendrik.
"We rode up to within three hundred yards of them.  Immediately on
seeing us they commenced yelling, and rushing about the plain; and, as
we turned to ride back, several spears were sent after us."

"Then the sooner we get away from here the better," suggested Hans.
"There are too many of them for us to hold our own with."

"Macora does not seem to think so," observed Groot Willem.

All turned to the chief, who, along with his men, was observed making
preparations for a pitched battle.

"Ask him, Congo," said Willem, "if he thinks we can drive the enemy
back."

The Kaffir made the inquiry, and was told, in reply, that Moselekatse's
men were never driven back except by superior numbers, and that they
certainly would not be defeated by a few.

"But what means that?  Is he going to stay here for all of us to be
killed?"

To this question the chief answered that he and his men were going to
act according to the desire of his friend Willem.

"Then they shall be off as quick as possible," said Willem.  "None of
them shall lose their lives on my account, if I can help it."

Not a moment was lost in getting away from the ground and so sudden was
the departure that the Makololo had to leave behind them the dried meat
they had taken so much trouble in curing.

The retreat was not commenced one moment too soon.  As Groot Willem and
Hendrik remained a little behind the others, they beheld the enemy
approaching the spot that had been relinquished by the Makololo,
apparently eager for a conflict.

There was no longer a doubt of the real object of their visit.  They had
come for the purpose of taking vengeance.  Their cries and angry
gestures proclaimed it; and, without waiting to see or hear more, the
young hunters put spurs to their steeds and joined Macora in the
retreat.



CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

THE RETREAT.

Macora and his party were in hopes that the pursuit might not be
continued far,--that the enemy, satisfied in having broken up their camp
and driven them off the ground, would return to their own country.

In this hope they were doomed to disappointment.  It turned out that
those in pursuit of them formed an expedition sent out by Moselekatse
for the purpose of extending his dominion and there was not the least
likelihood that the tyrant would relinquish his object until he had
obtained success.  This soon became the conviction of Macora; and he
lost no time in hastening back to his home, and preparing for the
invasion.

As the Makololo are of a race superior to most other South African
tribes, the young hunters were surprised to see the feeling of alarm
exhibited by them on learning that on of Moselekatse's armies was
advancing to attack them.  In place of preparing to resist the
approaching foe, a majority of the Makololo seemed only to contemplate
flight.

A little information from Macora concerning Moselekatse was a
satisfactory explanation of this mystery.  He informed his white guests
that the Matabili--that is, the people of Moselekatse--were the greatest
warriors in Southern Africa,--that Moselekatse, their king, could
command five thousand men, and that frequently his orders to the
officers who led them to battle were to give no quarter to the enemy.
Macora admitted that his own people were not cowards, but that he could
not maintain a war against such a king as Moselekatse.  He was quite
certain that, should they make a stand and give battle to the foe, at
least one half of his tribe would be killed.  They would moreover be
stripped of all their property, and what was left of the tribe would
have to become slaves of the tyrant, and look after his cattle.  There
was but one way of holding their own with Moselekatse; and that was to
remove everything of any value beyond his reach.  By this means had
Macora and his people maintained their independence for several years,
and the same method must be resorted to again.

This was the decision arrived at; and, on reaching his own kraal, Macora
at once put the design into execution.

The cattle were hastily collected and driven off, while the men, women,
and children started after them, each carrying a load of household
utensils, elephants' teeth, and such other property as could be
conveniently removed in such a hasty decampment.  The women, children,
and cattle were sent on in advance, while Macora and his warriors
followed behind as a rear-guard, to protect them against any surprise.

Some time would be required in crossing the Limpopo, and, as the
distance to the nearest drift was about five miles, there could be
danger of an attack before all could effect the crossing of the stream.
This fear was fully realised.  The ford was not a safe one; and there
was great difficulty in getting some of the cattle to take it: many of
them had to be assisted in landing on the opposite bank.  All this
required time; and, before the crossing was completed an alarm was
given.  The Matabili were coming up in the rear.

So accustomed were Moselekatse's warriors to success in any engagement,
that they made no halt before commencing hostilities, although not more
than two hundred of them had got forward upon the ground.

Armed with assegais, and defended with shields, they rushed forward with
hideous yells, exhibiting an insatiate thirst for blood that can only be
acquired by long familiarity with deeds of violence.

But although the Makololo had fled from their home without striking a
blow in its defence, they now proved themselves warriors in the true
sense of the word.

Rushing to the encounter, they met the Matabili hand to hand, and in the
conflict that followed both parties fought with the fury of demons.  One
might have supposed that Macora's principal object was the protecting of
his white friends.  From the behaviour of his men it was evident that he
had commanded them to keep between the young hunters and the enemy.  But
the opportunity for practising a little of their own profession was not
lost upon the two young soldiers Hendrik and Arend.  They were foremost
to fire on the Matabili; though their example was quickly followed by
Willem and Hans, who took their first sight at the body of a human being
along the barrel of a gun.

As the four pieces were discharged, a like number of Moselekatse's men
went to the earth; and two more were shot down the next instant by
Macora, Sindo, and another Makololo, all three of whom chanced to be
armed with muskets.

Under cover of their horses the hunters loaded again, and four more of
their enemies were prevented from taking any further part in the
conflict.

Could the assailants have closed with those who were shooting them down,
the hunters would soon have fallen before their assegais, but this they
were prevented from doing by the Makololo.  Protected by their shields,
and each side having great skill in using them, a single pair of the
native combatants would contend for a long time before either would be
seen to fall.

This, however, was not the case when any of the four hunters selected an
antagonist for his aim.  Every report of their guns was followed by the
fall of a dusky assailant; and the Matabili warriors soon discovered the
thinning of their ranks.  They learnt too, that fire-arms, which they
had long held in contempt, might, if properly handled, become very
destructive weapons.

They now saw that they had made a mistake in commencing the action so
confidently, and before the arrival of their full force, and were at
length compelled to retreat, leaving more than thirty of the dead upon
the ground.

In the affray, Macora lost but six men, and was so gratified with the
result that he was half inclined to pursue his enemies, in the hope of
rendering the victory more substantial and complete.  Knowing, however,
that any advantage he might obtain would be but temporary, that several
thousand men would soon be against him, and that in the end he would be
compelled to retreat, he abandoned the idea of pursuing the discomfited
enemy, and continued the crossing of the stream.

By sunset the whole tribe, with all their property, was safe on the
opposite shore, where the warriors were placed in a strong position to
repel any attempt on the part of the Matabili to effect a crossing.
This being done, the retreat was continued.  Macora had now no country.
He had lost his home, by assisting his white friends.  He was now a
fugitive, with a vengeful foe in his rear, and without friends in front.
His tribe was too small to command respect amongst those he might
encounter upon his march.  They would soon hear that he was pursued by
the great chief Moselekatse, and there was a prospect of his people
being hunted from place to place, and allowed no rest until robbed of
all their cattle,--their only wealth,--and perhaps also of their lives.

While Willem and his companions were regretting the misfortunes they had
been the means of bringing upon their protector, the chief's greatest
trouble appeared to be his disappointment in having failed to assist
them.

The last things taken over the river were the bodies of the Makololo
killed in the battle; and these were buried during the night.

On the contrary, the bodies of the Matabili were left where they had
fallen, to be stripped of their flesh by the beasts of prey.

To give the hunters some idea of the character and customs of his
enemies, Macora informed them that none of the Matabili ever buried
their dead, not even their own kindred; but that sons will drag the
bodies of their parents out from their village into the open plain, and
there leave them to the tender mercies of the hyenas and vultures.

During the night, the roars, growls, and other evidences of brutish
strife, heard across the river, convinced the Makololo guard left there,
that by morning only the bones of their slain enemies would be found
upon the field of battle.  This was music to the ears of the Makololo,
while the thought of their having defeated the renowned warriors of
Moselekatse almost compensated them for the loss of their homes.



CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

TYRANNY AND LOYALTY.

Before a start could be made the next morning, Moselekatse's braves were
seen assembling in large force on the opposite bank of the river.  As we
have said, the women, children, and cattle had been sent forward with
all possible haste, while most of the men remained to check the advance
of the enemy, and, if possible, cover the retreat for another day.

The Bushman Swartboy had been put in charge of several oxen laden with
ivory,--a responsible trust, that partly reconciled him to the annoyance
of leaving his white masters behind, and with no one to look after them
but Congo, who, as he asserted, was always leading them into trouble.

On leaving home, the young hunters had taken the precaution to bring
with them several guns, besides those used in the chase; and now the
reserve pieces were brought out and made ready for use.  By early
daybreak the Matabili commenced crossing.  Urged by the fear of the
tyrant's displeasure, in case their cowardice being reported to him,
they advanced recklessly into the stream.

The first five or six were shot down.  This did not check the ardour of
the others, who rushed madly down the bank, and commenced wading through
the water, which rose above their waists.

The only landing-place on the opposite side was by a small galley or
ravine, not more than ten feet in breadth.  To ascend through this
gulley would be a work of some difficulty, even if unopposed.  But with
the passage disputed by the spears of the opposing Makololo, it would be
one of desperate danger.  For all that, the Matabili determined on the
attempt, and were soon in the act of making it.

Plunging madly across the drift, they were soon gathered in a grand
crowd at the entrance of the gulley, and striving to ascend it five or
six at a time.  The passage would admit of no more.  At the first glance
Macora saw the advantage of his position, and encouraged his men to hold
it.  Not one of a dozen of the Matabili, who strove to enter the ravine,
succeeded in getting up its slippery sides.  Without a firm footing
their assegais and shields could not be used to any advantage; and their
dead bodies were soon swept off by the current of the river.

Those who succeeded in getting a little way up the gulley were opposed
by enemies on both sides of it, and easily speared to death.  Meanwhile
the white hunters were constantly loading and firing upon those who
could not be reached by the spears of the Makololo; and in less than ten
minutes the enemy again discovered that they had made a mistake.  They
saw the impracticability of getting across the river while opposed from
the opposite bank.  When this fact became fully comprehended, they
retreated to the other shore, and the roar of battle was again hushed,
or only continued by wild cries of vengeance.

In this second combat only four or five of the Makololo were wounded;
their wounds being caused by assegais thrown by those who had no other
opportunity of using their weapons.

Knowing that, should he abandon such a good position for defence, his
enemies would immediately pursue, Macora determined to hold it, if
possible, until such time as the unprotected portion of his tribe could
get to some point distant from the scene of danger.  For two hours the
hostile parties on both sides of the river remained without further
strife, except that which might be called a war of words.  Threats and
taunting speeches were freely exchanged, and mutual invitations to come
across,--none of which was accepted.

It was at length determined by Macora and his people to leave the place,
and proceed after the retreating tribe.  It was not to be done, however,
without a _ruse_; otherwise the Matabili would immediately cross and
follow them.  But this very thing had been thought of by Hendrik, who
now laid his plan before the chief.

"Let all of your people steal off," said he to Macora.  "The trees will
hinder the enemy from seeing them go.  We that are mounted can easily
escape at any time.  Let us stay, then, and keep showing ourselves to
the enemy as long as we can deceive them."

The plan appeared feasible, excellent.  Macora at once gave consent to
its being put into execution.

"Stay," said Groot Willem.  "Don't make any movement till I open
practice upon them with my long roer.  I think the gun will carry to
where they are, over yonder.  An occasional bullet whistling past their
ears will let them know that some of us are still here, and keep them
from suspecting that the others are gone."

As Willem spoke, he crept out to a projecting point upon the bank, and,
taking aim at a big Matabili who stood conspicuous on the other side,
let fly at him.  The man, with a loud yell, tumbled over in his tracks,
while others, also exposed, hastened to conceal themselves behind the
bushes.  At this crisis the Makololo stole silently away, leaving their
chief, with Sindo and one or two others who had horses, along with the
four hunters, to guard the crossing of the stream.

During nearly an hour that they remained by the drift, no other attempt
was made by the Matabili to approach near the bank.  Nothing was seen of
them; and Macora, beginning to suspect that they might have withdrawn
from the place and got over by some other drift, suggested the giving up
the guard, and hastening on after his tribe.  There was good sense in
the suggestion; for if the Matabili had found another crossing, the
tribe might be in danger.  It was determined, therefore, to withdraw,
but in such a way that the enemy might still believe them to be there.

Several articles of dress were hung upon the bushes, only slightly
showing towards the opposite side of the stream, and in such fashion as
to look like a portion of their persons; and then, Groot Willem firing a
last shot from his great gun, the guard withdrew one after another,
riding stealthily off among the trees.

The sun was not more than an hour high, when they overtook their
retreating comrades on foot, and a little later, all going together,
came up with the women and children.  As it was now near sundown, and
water chanced to be close at hand, they decided to halt there for the
night.

The Makololo chief was fortunate in overtaking his people at the time he
did.  Ten minutes later and they would have met with a greater
misfortune than had yet befallen them; for, scarce had Macora commanded
the halt, when a party of about a hundred Matabili were discovered
hovering upon the flanks of the proposed camping-place, that, but for
the arrival of Macora and his men, would have instantly made their
attack.  This party of the enemy must have crossed a drift higher up the
river, as it was from that direction they appeared to have come.

Not thinking themselves strong enough to begin the assault, for their
design had been to come up with the women and children while the
warriors were by the river, the Matabili kept their distance.  But this
was soon increased by the action of the white hunters, who, mounted on
their horses and making use of their guns, were more than a match for
the hundred.  These riding towards them, and firing a few shots, sent
the Matabili scampering off to a safer distance.  Having chased the
hundred warriors out of sight, they returned to the camp, where they
found Macora in a state of great anxiety.  He could see nothing before
him but the destruction of himself and his tribe.  Groot Willem demanded
an explanation of his increased apprehension, and reminded the chief
that in their encounters with the enemy they had been so far successful.
Macora stated in reply his belief that two of more detachments of
Moselekatse's army had been sent against him.  They would yet unite and
show no quarter to him, his tribe, or his friends.  Their losses in the
last two encounters had been too great for them to show the least mercy.

He furthermore informed his guests that none of Moselekatse's warriors
dare return to their chief unsuccessful.  Both they and their leaders
would be put to death; and this knowledge would stimulate them to a
total recklessness of danger and a determination to succeed in their
enterprise.

"There is but one plan I can think of," continued the Makololo
chief,--"but one way of saving my poor people, and that is, by
sacrificing myself.  By hurrying on to the west, they may yet succeed in
evading the pursuit of these Matabili, and join their own kindred under
the sway of the great chief Sebituane.  He would be able to protect
them.  As for me," added Macora with a sigh, "I cannot go along with
them."

The young hunters asked for an explanation, and it was given.  Owing to
some long past misunderstanding, Macora had incurred this ill-will of
Sebituane, who never forgot nor forgave an offence, and, were he to
return there, would surely order him to be killed.

Macora's advice to the hunters was, that, provided as they were with
horses, they should remove themselves out of the reach of danger, by
taking their departure for their homes.  This generous counsel Groot
Willem at once refused to follow, and all the rest joined him in
declining it, each saying something to give encouragement to the other.
As for Macora's own people, they now gave a rare proof of their loyalty.
When counselled by their chief to save themselves, and leave him to his
fate, one and all rebelled against the proposal; the warriors loudly
declaring that sooner than forsake him they would die by his side.

For the first time in their lives our adventurers saw a chief who
appeared to suffer affliction from being too much beloved by his people!
He proposed saving their lives at the expense of his own, by requesting
them to carry him a captive to Sebituane!  But his followers were loyal
to a man: to a man they rejected the proposal.



CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

WELCOME TIDINGS.

The white hunters were greatly vexed at thought of the trouble they had
brought upon the chief and his tribe, and tried to devise some plan by
which all might be extricated from their difficulties.

They proposed that Macora and his people should seek refuge from their
enemies by retreating to the country of the Bakwains,--a western branch
of their own great nation, the Bechuanas, which was not far-away.

In reply to this proposal, Macora said that none of those people would
give them protection.  They dreaded to incur the displeasure of
Moselekatse, and, to keep friends with him, would even assist his
warriors in their destruction.

The hunters then proposed that Macora should take leave of his tribe and
accompany them to the south, while his followers might go on to the
country of Sebituane.

This plan the chief emphatically declined to adopt.  Death would be
preferable to that.  He would not desert those who had so nobly stood by
him.

Moreover, it was still doubtful whether they could succeed in reaching
Sebituane.  They might look for the Matabili by the break of day; and,
encumbered as they were with women, children, and cattle, their flight
was too slow for safety.

This opinion Macora expressed to some of his followers, and, at the same
time, told them that there was one ox belonging to the tribe that the
Matabili should not have.  He described the ox as the fattest one in
their possession.

His men took the hint; and in less than two hours an ox was killed,
cooked, and eaten.

Early in the evening, a fire was seen and shouts were heard not more
than half a mile from them.  They believed that a body of their enemies
was encamped near, and only waiting for a concentration of their forces
before commencing another attack.

They were agreeably disappointed about this; for, when morning dawned,
their eyes were gratified by the sight of two large covered wagons
outspanned upon the plain, with several oxen and horses grazing near
them.  They were at no great distance off, and must have come there in
the night.  It could be nothing else than an encampment of white hunters
or traders.

Our adventurers, one and all, rode hastily for the camp, and in a few
minutes were exchanging salutations with the owners of the wagons.  As
they had conjectured, it was a party of traders.  They were from Port
Natal.  They had been on an excursion to the north, and were now
returning to the Port.  They were attended by some Kaffirs who had
accompanied them from Natal, and also a number of natives they had
picked up in the north.

While our adventurers were trying to obtain from them a supply of
ammunition and such other things as they stood in need of, their
attention was called to Macora, by seeing that individual behaving
somewhat after the manner of a mad man.  Although his people were more
than half a mile away, he was shouting to them and gesticulating in the
most violent manner, as if imparting some communication or command.

The hunters looked in every direction, and with feelings of
apprehension.  They expected to see the Matabili again coming to the
attack.  But no foe was in sight.

It was not until the chief had succeeded in attracting the attention of
his followers, and had worked them into a high state of excitement, with
what he was saying to them, that our hunters understood the meaning of
his words and gestures.  It turned out that some of the native
attendants who accompanied the white traders were from the country of
Sebituane, and, therefore, the kindred of Macora's people.  Only a few
days before they had left their native place.  From these, the chief had
learnt that Sebituane was no longer a living man.  He had died some
weeks before, leaving his daughter Ma-Mochisane in full authority at the
head of the Makololo nation.

Macora was no longer afraid of returning to his nation.  His only fear,
now, was that the Matabili might come up in such strength as to destroy
all chance of his ever revisiting his native land.

There was now an opportunity for his followers to have a secure and
permanent home; and, at thought of this, old and young exerted
themselves to hasten their departure from the perilous spot.

The party of traders consisted of three white men with nine African
attendants, all of them well-armed.  Their assistance--especially those
who had fire-arms--might have been very valuable to the hunters in the
difficulty in which they now found themselves.

Groot Willem, wholly unconscious that there were people who would not do
as they would be done by, lost no time in telling them of the danger
that threatened himself and his friends, and that they were every moment
expecting an attack from a large party of hostile Matabili.  He
expressed his pleasure at the good fortune that had brought them a
distance at such an opportune moment.  He fancied that his communication
would be sufficient to secure the co-operation of the traders, and that
they would at once take the retreating party under their protection.

To his great surprise and indignation, as also that of his friends, the
effect of his story upon the traders was the very opposite to that he
had anticipated.  They had not time for another word of conversation,
but immediately commenced _inspanning_ their oxen.

In ten minutes after, they were _trekking_ to the south-east, _en route_
for Port Natal.  They were not the men to endanger their lives and
property by remaining longer than they could possibly avoid in the
society of those who had the misfortune to be surrounded by enemies.

Had there been in the minds of our adventurers the slightest desire to
abandon the chief Macora in his hour of need, the conduct of the white
traders would have killed it.  The mean behaviour of the latter had one
good effect.  It inspired all hands with a determination to do their
best in making their retreat before the Matabili; and the march was
immediately resumed.

Men, women, and children were all equally active and earnest in getting
beyond the reach of the pursuing foe.  They knew that a long journey was
before them, and a powerful and merciless enemy in their rear.  Even the
dogs seemed to understand the danger that menaced their masters, and
exerted themselves in urging along the droves.

By travelling until a late hour, a good distance was made that same day;
and as nothing was seen or heard of the pursuing savages, our
adventurers began to think that the pursuit had been abandoned.

Although riding on horses, they were far more fatigued than the
Makololo, who went on foot, and who, used to such an exodus, thought
nothing of its toils.  The hunters would gladly have given up their
flight, thinking there was no longer a need for it.  "It is only the
wicked and foolish who flee when no man pursueth," was their thought.

But in this, the chief did not agree with them.  Instead of neglecting
to take precautions, he was very particular about all the appointments
of their night camp, stationing guards around it, and outlying pickets,
to prevent any sudden surprise.  Never, since the retreat commenced, had
he appeared more apprehensive of an attack.

Our hunters became anxious to ascertain for what reason all these
precautions were being taken; and with Congo's assistance, they made
inquiry.

The explanation Macora condescended to give was, that Moselekatse's
warriors never slept till they had accomplished their purpose.  They
would certainly not relinquish the pursuit without a greater defeat than
they had yet sustained.  They were, he said, only waiting until their
different parties could be got together, and they should be in force
sufficient to insure the destruction of him and his tribe.  In two days
more he would be able to reach the Makololo territory, where they would
all be safe; and for that reason he was determined not to neglect any
means that might secure the safety of his followers or that of the
guests under his protection.  His own life was little to him compared
with the duty he had to perform for others.

Next morning, they were on the move before daybreak, and hastening
forward with all possible speed.  Hendrik, Arend, and Hans accompanied
Macora with some reluctance, partly because they believed that flight
was no longer necessary.

"Never mind," urged Groot Willem, to encourage them.  "It will only last
two days longer, and we are going to a part of the country we have not
yet visited."

Before noon, there was some reason for believing that Macora had
reasoned aright.  A party of the Matabili suddenly appeared in advance
of the route they were pursuing.

It was not large enough to attempt opposing the progress of the
Makololo, and, on seeing the latter, fled.

In the afternoon, some scouts that had been left in the rear hastened
with the news that a large body of the enemy was coming up in pursuit.

The forces of Moselekatse had become concentrated; and the hunters now
agreed with Macora that flight could no longer avail them, and that in
less than twenty-four hours a contest would be inevitable.

It would never do to be attacked when on the march.  They must halt in
some place favourable for defence.  There was no such place within
sight, but Macora believed he might find a more defensible position on
the bank of the river; and towards that he hastily proceeded.



CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

BESIEGED.

It wanted but an hour to sundown when the Makololo reached the river.
The enemy could not be far-away, and preparations were immediately
commenced for receiving them.

Hendrik and Arend, laying claim to more wisdom in military affairs than
the others, rode a little in advance for the purpose of choosing the
battle-field.

Good fortune had conducted them to a spot favourable to the carrying out
of their scheme.

A little above the place where they first struck the stream, the current
had made a sort of horseshoe bend, leaving a peninsula, which, during
the rainy season when the river was swollen, formed a large island.  The
narrow and shallow channel was here uncovered with water to the width of
about fifty yards, and over this the cattle were driven.  Quickly did
the Makololo secure themselves and their property in a position where
they could not be surrounded.

There was but one way in which the enemy could easily reach them,--by
the isthmus, which was not more than fifty yards in width.  Growing by
the side of the river and on the edge of the isthmus, was a gigantic
nwana-tree, which nature had been for hundreds of years producing,--as
Hendrik declared, for the special purpose of saving them.

The nwana is one of the most remarkable trees of the African forest.
Some of them obtain the extraordinary size of ninety feet in
circumference, and are lofty in proportion.  Its wood is as soft as a
green cabbage-stalk, and has been pronounced "utterly unserviceable."
The hunters did not find it so.

Amongst other implements brought from Graaf Reinet were two good axes,
which their former experiences of a hunter's life had taught our young
adventurers were indispensable on an expedition.

The nwana-tree was to be felled across the bar, so as to block up the
approach to the peninsula.  It would form a barricade behind which an
enemy could be efficiently opposed.  Swartboy produced the axes, and the
hunters set to work to cut down the tree,--two working at a time, and in
turns relieving each other.  At every blow the axes were buried in the
soft spongy wood.  A grand gingerbread cake could not have yielded more
readily to their efforts.

Fortunate that it was so, as they believed that their safety depended on
felling this forest monarch before the arrival of the Matabili.  The
latter could not be far-off, and every exertion was made to get the
fortress ready for receiving the attack.  There was a doubt as to the
direction the tree would take in falling.  Should it topple over into
the water, their labour would be lost, and the way would be open for the
Matabili to reach them by a rush.  Should it fall across the isthmus, it
would form an insurmountable barrier to their enemies.  In silence and
with intense interest did the Makololo stand watching for the result.
At length the tree began to move; slowly at first, but as they gazed
upon its trembling top, they could see that it was going to come down in
the right direction.  Gaining velocity as it got lower, a swishing sound
was made by its branches as they passed through the air; and then the
gigantic mass struck the ground with a crash, till its huge trunk lay
stretched across the isthmus, filling it from side to side, with the
exception of a few feet at each end.  They had now a barricade that
could not be easily broken, if but manfully defended.  They were ready
to receive the attack of the foe.

They would not have long to wait.  As night came down, large fires were
observed in the distance.  The Matabili had evidently arrived, and were
probably waiting for day, to obtain a knowledge of their position before
they should commence the attack.  Before taking their stand by the
river, Macora had called for four volunteers to proceed by stealth from
the spot, and if possible reach some neutral tribe that might come to
his rescue.  He was now in a position from which he could not move
without the certainty of being defeated and of course destroyed.  He
might be able to maintain it for several days; and knowing that his
enemies would not raise the siege until compelled to do so, his only
hope was that of obtaining aid from some neighbouring chief, jealous of
the encroachments of the Matabili.

Anxious to become fully reinstated in the good opinion of his chief,
Sindo was the first who had offered to go upon this perilous scout.
Three others having also volunteered, they had been despatched in
couples,--one pair leaving an hour after the departure of the first.
This division of the embassy was to insure a greater chance of its being
successful.  If one couple should have the ill luck to get captured, the
other might escape.

By the earliest hour of day the enemy began to show himself, not far
from the fortified camp.  From the top of the fallen nwana our hunters
could see a large crowd of dusky warriors, that appeared to number at
least six hundred.  To oppose these, Macora had not more than two
hundred and fifty men who were capable of taking part in the fight.

At either end of the great trunk, as already stated there was an open
space that would require to be carefully watched.  At both points Macora
had placed some of his bravest warriors, while the others were
distributed along the barricade, with instructions to spear any of the
enemy that should attempt to scale it.

The Matabili had already examined the position and appeared confident of
success.  They had at last brought their game to bay, and were only
resting from the fatigue of the long chase before taking steps to "carry
the fortress."

It was bright daylight as they advanced to the assault.  Dividing
themselves into two parties, they made a rush at the open spaces by the
ends of the barricade.  A fierce conflict came on which lasted for some
ten minutes, and at length resulted in the assailants being forced to
retreat, after leaving several of their warriors dead in the gaps.

But this temporary victory was not obtained without loss.  Eight of the
Makololo had also fallen dead, while several others were severely
wounded.

Macora's features began to assume an anxious and troubled expression.
Knowing that an enemy of superior force to his own was before him, that
all means of retreat was now cut off, and that an attempt to enter the
enclosure had nearly proved successful, he could not avoid feeling a
gloomy foreboding for the fate of his people.

He knew too well the disposition of the Matabili to suppose that they
would easily relinquish their design.

Fear of Moselekatse's displeasure on account of the losses they had
already sustained, as well as the prospect of plunder, would inspire
them with the determination to fight on as long as there was the
slightest hope of obtaining a victory.

No assistance could be expected from other tribes of the Makololo in
less than three days.  Could his position be maintained for that time?

As the chief looked at the dead and wounded lying around him, this
question could not be answered in a satisfactory manner.  His foes were
too numerous, and repeated attempts would in the end enable them to
succeed.

This was the belief of the Makololo chief; and, notwithstanding his
confidence in the wisdom and strategic prowess of the white hunters, he
was now in a state of great anxiety.

Two hours after the attack the only Matabili in sight were those they
had killed, but for all that it was well known that the survivors were
not far off.

Night descended over the scene.  The camp-fires of the enemy could be
distinguished through the darkness; but that signified nothing.

Morning found our adventurers still undisturbed.  To all appearance
Moselekatse's warriors, yielding to despair, had returned to their
chief, to suffer the punishment that would certainly follow from their
permitting themselves to be defeated.

This was the belief of the white hunters, who now earnestly urged Macora
to make no further delay, but hasten on towards his countrymen.

This advice the chief positively refused to follow.  He admitted the
superiority of his allies in the arts of hunting and even war, but in a
knowledge of the character of Moselekatse and his warriors he knew
himself to be their superior.  He was now in a position where he and his
people might successfully sustain themselves, and he disliked leaving
it, lest they should fall into some ambuscade of the enemy.  Had he not
had reasons for expecting assistance, the case might have been
different, but confident that aid would be immediately sent to him, he
thought it better to remain where they were.

Believing that there was a possibility of the chief being in the right,
Groot Willem and his companions of course consented to remain; not,
however, without stipulations.

If within thirty-six hours there was no appearance of either friends or
enemies, Macora promised that he would continue the march towards his
country.



CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

NOT QUITE TOO LATE.

The stipulated time passed, and nothing was seen of the Matabili;
neither was anything known of the result of the mission of Sindo and his
companions.

The young hunters were now quite certain that their enemies had
relinquished the idea of conquering a band protected by the intellects
and weapons of white men, and that they had returned home.

With this opinion, that of the chief did not quite coincide.
Nevertheless, according to the agreement, he commenced making
preparations for departure.

The cattle were driven out of the enclosure, and again started along the
track, all acting as drovers, and urging the animals onward with as much
energy as if they believed that the enemy was in close pursuit.  To
Groot Willem and his companions there was something very inconsistent in
the conduct of the Makololo.

They fought like brave men when forced to face the foe but now that no
enemy was near, they exhibited every sign of cowardice!

At Willem's request, Congo asked the chief for an explanation of this
unaccountable behaviour.

Macora admitted the truth of what was said, but added that his white
friends would see nothing strange in it, if they were only better
acquainted with the strategy of Moselekatse and his warriors.

The precaution of keeping scouts in the rear was not neglected; and, a
few hours after the march had commenced, one of these brought the news
that the Matabili were in pursuit.

As Macora had supposed, they had been waiting for him to forsake a
position so favourable for defence.

As the white hunters had now experienced the advantage of receiving the
pursuers in a fortified place, Hendrik and Arend, spurring their horses,
rode some distance in advance of the herds, for the purpose of selecting
a second battle-field.

In finding this, fortune refused to favour them for the second time.
The country through which they were now passing was an open plain,
presenting no natural advantages for anything but a "fair field and no
favour."  This was not what they required.

"We have gone far enough," said Hendrik, after galloping about a mile.
"Our friends can hardly reach this place before being overtaken.  We
must turn back to them."

"Of course we must," mechanically replied Arend, who was earnestly
gazing across the plain.

Hendrik turned his eyes in the same direction, and to his surprise saw
from twenty to thirty men coming rapidly towards them.

"We are going to be surrounded!" said Arend, as he turned his horse to
retreat.

Without further speech, the two galloped back to their companions.

"Macora was right," said Hendrik, as he joined Groot Willem and Hans.
"We should not have left the place where we were able to keep these
Matabili at bay.  We have made a mistake."

While Macora was being informed that warriors had been seen ahead,
several of the scouts driven in reported that a large body of the
Matabili was rapidly approaching from the rear.  For a moment Hans,
Hendrik, and Arend were not quite certain that the white traders they
had met the day before were much to blame for withdrawing from the scene
of danger.  To them life seemed of too much value to be relinquished
without some powerful reason.

Hopes long and dearly cherished were now before the minds of our young
adventurers.  They could not avoid thinking of their own safety.  But
they had too much honour to think of deserting the brave Makololo, whom
they themselves had been instrumental in bringing into trouble.

They all looked to Groot Willem, who would not abandon the brave chief,
to whom they were so much indebted,--not even to save his own life.
They faltered no longer.  Macora's fate should be theirs.

The chief was now urged to order a halt of his people; and, in
compliance with the request, he gave a shout that might have been heard
nearly a mile off.

It was answered by several of those in advance, who were driving the
cattle; but amongst the many responsive voices was one that all
recognised with a frenzied joy.

The sound of that particular voice was heard at a great distance, and
only indistinctly, but on hearing it the Makololo commenced leaping
about the ground like lunatics, several of them shouting, "Sindo!
Sindo!"

All hastened forward as fast as their limbs could carry them, and in a
few minutes after were met by a large party of Makololo warriors, who
communicated the pleasing intelligence that more were coming up close
behind.

Sindo and his companions had succeeded in the accomplishment of their
mission.

Ma-Mochisane, just at that crisis, chanced to be on a visit to the
southern part of her dominions, and to have with her many warriors of
different tribes of her people.

Macora, a friend of her childhood, was remembered.  The desire of aiding
him was backed by the hereditary hatred for the Matabili, and not a
moment was lost in despatching a party of chosen fighting men to his
assistance.

They had arrived just in time.  Two hours later, and those they had been
sent to rescue would have been engaged with their enemies without the
advantage of a position favourable for defence.

The result was that, instead of encountering a small band of outcast and
wearied Makololo, Moselekatse's men found themselves opposed by a large
force of warriors fresh and vigorous for any fray,--men who had often
been led to victory by the noble chief Sebituane.

Moselekatse's soldiers saw that there was but one way of saving
themselves from the disgrace that threatened them; that was by a sudden
change in the tactics they had been hitherto pursuing.  They resolved on
an immediate onslaught.

They made it, only to be repulsed.

After a short conflict they were completely routed, and retreated in a
manner that plainly expressed their intention to discontinue the
campaign.

From that hour the young hunters never heard of them again.

Three days after the retreat of the Matabili our adventurers were
introduced at the court of Ma-Mochisane by Macora, who made formal
declaration of his fidelity to his new sovereign.

On the return of the chief from his long exile he was enthusiastically
received by his countrymen,--the more as from his having incurred the
resentment of the Matabili.



CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

A TALK ABOUT HOME.

"I have a favour to ask of you, my friends," said Hendrik, the day after
they had been introduced at court.  "I want a little information, if
either of you can give it."

"Very well," said Willem; "I, for one, will do all in my power to
instruct you.  What do you wish to know?"

"If we are to stay in this part of the world any longer," continued
Hendrik, "I wish some one to give me a good reason for our doing so.  I
am ready to return home."

"And so am I," said Arend.

"And I also," added Hans.  "The last three or four weeks have given me
quite enough of hunting giraffes, or anything else.  We have been hunted
too much ourselves."

"I'm sorry to hear you talking in this way," said Groot Willem, "for _I_
am not ready to return yet.  We have not accomplished the purpose for
which we set forth."

"True," replied Hendrik, "and I believe we never shall."

"Why do you think so?" asked Willem, with a look of surprise.

"Tell me why I should _not_ think so," answered Hendrik.  "To begin with
general principles, people are rarely successful in every undertaking in
life.  We have been fortunate on our two former expeditions, and we have
no great cause to complain should we be disappointed in this one.  We
cannot always expect to win.  Fortune is fickle; and my chief desire now
is that we may reach home in safety."

"I am not prepared to go home yet," rejoined Willem, in a way that told
his companions he was in earnest.  "We have only been in the
neighbourhood of the Limpopo for a few short weeks; and we have been
successful in getting a good many hippopotamus teeth.  We have made but
one attempt to capture giraffes; and I have not come more than a
thousand miles, to relinquish an undertaking because I have met with one
failure.  What are we here for?  The journey from Graaf Reinet to this
place should not be made for nothing.  We must have something to show
for the loss of our time, besides the loss of our horses; and when we
have made four or five more unsuccessful attempts at procuring what we
came for, then I'll listen patiently to your talk about returning,--not
before."

Hendrik and Arend were thinking of the many narrow escapes from death
they had met within the last few weeks, but perhaps more of their
sweethearts.  Hans could not withdraw his thoughts from the anticipated
voyage to Europe but these motives for action would have been powerless
as arguments with Groot Willem, even had they made use of them.  He had
come to the north for two young giraffes.  Both time and money had been
lost in the expedition, and his companions could give no substantial
reason why they should not make some further attempt to accomplish the
object for which it had been undertaken.

Willem was generally inclined to yield to the wishes of his companions.
On trivial affairs, he never made them unhappy by any spirit of
opposition, nor did he suffer himself to be made so.  But they could not
control him now.  It was not in the nature of either Hans, Hendrik, or
Arend to return home and leave him alone; and since he continued, as
Hendrik said, "obstinate as a _vlacke varke_" they were reluctantly
compelled to remain.

They were told that within one day's journey to the west, there was a
large forest of _cameel-doorn_, where giraffes were often seen, and they
determined to pay this forest a visit.

Macora had become a great favourite at court; and, having the business
on hand of establishing his tribe in a new home, he could not accompany
them.  He assured them, however that there was no fear of their not
finding giraffes in the aforesaid forest, as well as a convenient place
for constructing a trap to capture them.  They would also have men to
assist them.

In order not to put them to any trouble in communicating with him, he
sent four of his best messengers along with them, two of whom were to be
sent to him whenever the hunters had any important news to communicate.

With feelings of renewed pleasure, our young hunters once more set forth
upon an expedition, which, instead of being a retreat from savage foes,
was but the parting from friends,--that might be met again.

Hendrik and Arend had occasionally forgotten the allurements of home in
the excitement of the chase; but when driven from one place to another,
and often in danger of losing their lives, it is not to be wondered at
that their thoughts should revert to the tranquil scenes of civilised
life.

Swartboy was highly delighted at thought of parting with the Makololo.
For several days past he had been sorrowing within himself at the
misfortune of being found in bad company, or professing to sorrow for
it.  What the Bushman's real opinions were, will ever be an unimportant
mystery on earth; though he never lost an opportunity of endeavouring to
prove that all the misfortunes occurring to his masters had been owing
to the fact that they were guided by Congo,--that they had been in
company with people who spoke a language the Kaffir could understand,
and that he himself could not.  This he seemed to think was sufficient
reason for any trouble that might befall them.  They had left the tribe
now, and Swartboy had become one of ten, and not one among hundreds.  He
had certain duties to perform that gave him a status in the company.
His complaints and suggestions were now listened to, and he began to
give expression to the hope that he might yet succeed in bringing the
expedition to a successful issue!

On the way to the mimosa forest nothing of any interest occurred, even
to Hans, who, along the route, kept lingering behind his companions to
examine the plants that were to be seen along the way.  There was one
little incident, however.  Apparently a very interesting one to the
dogs.

While passing an elevation that might almost have been called a
mountain, a troop of chacmas, or dog-faced baboons was seen descending
from the summit, probably in search of water.  The hunters had often
heard that dogs have a greater hatred for these animals than for any
others; and they now had strong evidence of the truth of this statement.
Only one dog of the whole pack had ever encountered chacmas before;
yet, immediately on seeing them, all seemed aroused to the highest pitch
of fury it was possible for canine nature to attain.  Simultaneously
they rushed towards the baboons, baying savagely as they ran.

Sheer instinct seemed to have stirred them to this animosity against
animals whose aspect, in some respects, resembled their own.

"Ride forward," shouted Willem, "or our dogs will be killed."

Up to this time the baboons had shown no disposition to retreat.  They
appeared to think that the trouble of fighting dogs was not so great as
that of returning up the mountain; but at the first report of Groot
Willem's roer, they scattered off after a fashion that left the dogs not
the slightest chance of overtaking them.

Only one of them remained behind, and it was the animal that had
received the shot.  Being wounded, it was immediately attacked by the
dogs, who could not be choked off till they had torn the ugly brute into
shreds.



CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

AMONG THE MIMOSAS.

The hunters were now intent upon but one object,--that of procuring the
giraffes.  The roar of a lion near the camp could not have drawn them
out of it.  An elephant carrying many pounds of ivory was a sight that
did not awaken sufficient interest to tempt a pursuit.  All had a full
appreciation of the task to be accomplished before they could return to
their home, and they would allow nothing to interfere with the business
before them.

By the side of the mimosa grove, which was now to be the scene of their
labours, ran a small stream.  On its banks they soon discovered the
spoor of giraffes.  Some of the tracks were of small dimensions,
evidently the hoof-marks of young calves.  Groot Willem was in high
spirits.  There was once more a prospect of satisfying his hunter
ambition.  His companions, though not so confident of success, were
equally as anxious to obtain it.

The day after their arrival on the borders of the _cameel-doorn_ forest,
a drove of giraffes was seen coming out from among the timber and making
their way to the stream.

The timid animals, unaware of their proximity to man, walked on until
within one hundred and fifty yards of the spot where the hunters stood,
before seeing the latter.  They then turned suddenly, and with a swift
but awkward gait retreated westward across the open plain, and entirely
away from the mimosa forest.  Hendrik and Arend were with some
difficulty restrained from pursuing them.  There was an opportunity for
an exciting chase; and to remain inactive and see the giraffes disappear
over the plain, required a strong self-denying effort.

It was Groot Willem who held them in check.

"Did you not see that there were three young ones in the drove?" said
he.  "Their home is very likely in this forest and we must not frighten
them away from it."

"They have already been hunted," answered Hendrik.  "I am sure I saw an
arrow sticking in the side of one of them.  Some black has amused
himself by torturing a creature he was unable to kill."

"It's a great pity they saw us at all," said Willem; "but they will
probably return to the shelter of the trees.  We must make sure that
they have their haunt about here; and then we can send for some of
Macora's people, and let them build us another trap.  That appears to be
the only way of catching them."

Another day passed, in which the hunters amused themselves in killing
reed bucks and other game in larger quantities than they required.
Nothing more of the giraffes was seen; and on the next day the party
started off on the spoor of the giraffes they had seen.

Another mimosa forest was discovered about fifteen miles farther to the
west; and on riding around it, they came upon a small lagoon.  Its banks
were trampled with the hoof-marks of many giraffes, some of which were
very small.  They had evidently been lately made, and by the same drove
they had seen three days before.  From this it was evident that the
flock frequented both forests.

"We have seen quite enough for the present," said Willem.  "Our next
plan is to send for Macora's promised assistance, and construct another
trap."

In this all the others agreed; and then arose the question.  Where shall
the trap be built?

"We may as well have it at the other grove," said Hendrik, "for we can
easily drive them back to the place where they were first seen."

No strong reasons could be advanced against this suggestion, and it was
adopted.

Next morning two of the Makololo were despatched to Macora, for the
purpose of claiming his promised assistance; and all went back to the
forest first visited, and there encamped.

On the day the chief's workmen were expected to arrive, Hendrik and
Arend had ridden a few miles up the stream seeking for something to
destroy.  Impelled by that incomprehensible desire for taking life so
natural to the hunter, they could not rest quietly at night unless they
had killed something during the day.

They had arrived at a thick belt of forest, consisting of acacias and
evergreen shrubs, and trees of the strelitzia, zamia, and speckboom,
when their ears were assailed by the sound of breaking branches, and the
unmistakable rushing of some large animals through the thicket.

"Prepare yourself, Arend; we may have some sport here," cried Hendrik,
and both drew rein to await the _denouement_.

A few seconds only elapsed when the forms of two full-grown giraffes
were observed breaking from the thicket.  On the back of one of these
was a leopard.  Blood was streaming down its breast, and it was reeling
wildly in its gait.

Knowing that the leopard is a cowardly creature, and that its capability
for taking its prey is so great that it rarely suffers from want of
food, and never where there is an abundance of game, the youths knew
that its attack on the giraffe must have been caused by some other
motive than that of satisfying the appetite of hunger.  Its young had
been disturbed in their lair, or the giraffes had in some other way
aroused its animosity.  On reaching the open ground it was seen that the
unencumbered giraffe quickly forsook its companion, which was now
showing unmistakable signs of being able to go but a very little
farther.  Its life-blood was flowing from its neck, and the stately
monster was about to topple over under the injuries it had received from
its fierce, agile enemy.  The hunters were spectators of an incident
such had probably never before happened,--that of a leopard killing a
giraffe.  Circumstances had favoured the beast of prey; and the huge
ruminant, that had in some unconscious way aroused its anger, was being
destroyed by an animal not the tenth part of its own strength or bulk.

Two dogs that were along with the hunters, not heeding the voices of
their owners, essayed to take a part in the destruction of the innocent
creature.  Both ran yelping after it, and endeavoured to lay hold of its
heels.  Lifting one of its feet, the tottering camelopard dashed it with
unerring aim against one of the dogs, with a force that threw the cur
several feet backward, where it lay sprawling in the last convulsive
motions of life.  By making this effort, the reeling body of the giraffe
lost its balance, and throwing its head violently to one side it fell
heavily to the earth, its shoulders covering part of the leopard's body,
and crushing the latter to death.  Like Samson, the leopard had brought
destruction upon itself!

Handing the reins of the bridle to Arend, Hendrik walked up within a few
feet of the leopard's head, and put an end to its snarling screams by a
ball through the brain.

What little life remained in the giraffe soon departed from it, along
with the blood which the beast of prey had let out of its veins.
Standing over the two carcasses, the hunters tried to arrive at some
comprehension of the strange scene they had witnessed.  They had heard
of a lion having ridden on the back of a giraffe for a distance of many
miles, and had treated the story as a fabrication.  Before them was
evidence that a leopard had travelled no little distance in a similar
manner.  Why should not a lion do the same?  Notwithstanding the
thickness of the hide that covered the neck of the giraffe, it had been
torn to shreds, that were hanging down over its shoulders.  The long
claws and tusks of the leopard had been repeatedly buried in its flesh,
arteries and veins had been dragged from their beds and laid open, ere
the strength and life of the animal had forsaken it.  This could not
have been the work of a few seconds.

Several minutes may have been required for inflicting the injuries the
giraffe had suffered, and during that time its merciless foe was
probably wholly unconscious that it was being borne far from the scene
where the attack had been commenced.  Death had saved it from the
surprise of discovering that, in the practice of its ferocious fury, it
had been carried far away from the young it was making such efforts to
defend.



CHAPTER FORTY.

ANOTHER DISAPPOINTMENT.

Three days after the departure of the messengers, Macora's promise of
aid was again fulfilled by the arrival of thirty workmen.  A site for
the hopo was chosen about half a mile from the forest edge, and the
construction of it was immediately commenced.

Anxious to learn the result of another attempt at capturing giraffes,
the hunters toiled early and late.  Two of them were constantly handling
the axes, felling small trees, which the blacks transported to the place
where they were to be used, while the other two superintended the
setting of the sticks.  The labour of constructing this trap was not so
great as the other, for a more convenient site had been chosen.  The two
fences were to be placed a little beyond the sides of the mimosa grove,
which was not more than half a mile wide; nor was the pit made so large
as the first; and by toiling nearly all the time from sunrise to sunset,
the contrivance was got ready for use in seven days.

While the work was progressing, several giraffes had been seen in the
neighbourhood, and the hopes of the hunters were once more in the
ascendant.  All were in high spirits with the prospect that, within two
or three days, they might be on their return to Graaf Reinet.  To make
more sure of success they paid a visit to the second mimosa grove,
taking along with them a large party of the Makololo.  Their object was
to drive the giraffes out of that tract of timber into the one where the
trap was being prepared for them.  During their excursion no camelopards
were seen in this second grove; but this, in the opinion of the hunters,
was of little consequence.  They would be discovered in the place where
they were wanted; and in this hope they hastened back to the hopo.

The same means for driving the giraffes into the trap were again
employed.  A regular battue was established,--all hands taking share in
it.  The Makololo, accompanied by their dogs, and making as much noise
as lay in their power, passed through the tract of timber, while Willem
and Hendrik rode along one side, and Hans and Arend on the other.

As the beaters drew near the end where the trap was established, Willem
began to have an apprehension that something was wrong.  No herds of
large game were seen escaping from the cover.  No sounds of crashing
sticks and breaking branches struck upon his ear.  The forest seemed
deserted by all but the noisy Makololo, who were working their way
through its shady aisles.  The termination of the battue was at length
reached.  Within the pen were seen enclosed a few small antelopes of
common species, a pair of brindled gnus, and some wild hogs.

This was a bitter disappointment.  The giraffes had got away, no one
knew how or where.  They might return again; but no one could be certain
of this.  Those amongst the Makololo who professed to be best acquainted
with their habit, expressed the belief that they had migrated to same
extensive forests far-away towards the south, and that no more
camelopards might be found in that neighbourhood for the six months to
follow.  They (the Makololo) were anxious to return to their homes.
Perhaps this may have guided them in their opinion.  They had huts to
build, and land to cultivate for their families, and had neglected these
duties in obedience to the command of their chief.  The hunters could
not reasonably detain them longer, and, though with reluctance,
permitted them to take their departure.

Three days were passed in riding about the neighbourhood, and exploring
it within a circle of twenty miles.  Several small groves of
_cameel-doorn_ were found, but no camelopards could be seen.  They had
evidently forsaken that district or country, and might not return for
many weeks or months.  The Makololo appeared to have spoken the truth.

"I don't say that we have been acting like fools," said Arend; "but I
will say that we deserve to be called nothing else, if we squander any
more time in search of what fate has decreed that we are not to obtain."

"Go on, Arend!" exclaimed Hendrik.  "I could not talk more sensibly
myself."

"I have nothing more to say at present," said Arend, with a significant
shake of the head, as much as to say that the subject was too plain to
require discussion.

"What should we do, Hans?" asked Groot Willem.

"Start for home," was the ready answer.  "I am now of Hendrik's
opinion," continued the botanist.  "We should not expect to be
successful in every undertaking, and we have for some time been engaged
on one in which we seem destined to fail."

"Very well," said Groot Willem.  "Let us first go back to the country of
Macora.  It will be so far on our way to Graaf Reinet."

Seeing that Swartboy was anxious to give his opinion on this important
subject, Hendrik was kind enough to give him a chance by asking for it.
The Bushman possessed to an extraordinary degree the not unusual
accomplishment of saying a very little in a great many words.
Fortunately, for the gratification of his vanity, the hunters were at
supper, and had time to listen to his circumlocution.

The failure of the expedition so far was, in Swartboy's opinion, wholly
owing to Congo.  He had known from the first that no success could
attend them while guided by a Kaffir, or any race of blacks whose
language a Kaffir could understand.

Swartboy further informed them that in his childhood he had daily seen
giraffes; and that if they were amongst his countrymen, the Bushmen,
who, in his opinion, were honest and intelligent compared with other
Africans, they would have no difficulty in procuring what they required.
This communication, to those who knew that the Bushmen were, perhaps,
the lowest specimens of humanity to be found in all Africa, only created
a smile on the faces of his listeners; but with this proof of his
eloquence Swartboy seemed quite satisfied.

On their arrival at Macora's new settlement, the chief expressed much
regret at the failure of their expedition, but could give Willem but
little or no hope that there was other chance of success, at least for
some time to come.

Camelopards, he said, often migrated from one district to another,
travelling for several days at a time, and often going thirty or forty
miles a day.  A drove containing young ones, such as were required,
might not be seen in the neighbourhood for several weeks.  He still
promised to render all the assistance himself and tribe were capable of
affording.

Willem might have remained to try another trap, but the voice of his
companions was in favour of at once setting out for Graaf Reinet.  This
soon became too emphatic for him to resist, and the great hunter had to
yield.  A sort of compromise was, however, agreed upon, which was that
they should go home, not on a direct course for Graaf Reinet, but
through the country of the Bechuanas,--crossing some districts inhabited
by the Bushmen.  Thence they could turn eastward and homeward.

In this journey Willem promised to cause them no unnecessary delay; and
his companions agreed to do their best in aiding him to accomplish his
cherished purpose.

In Macora's tribe were four young men who had a strong desire to visit
the white settlements, and learn something more of the customs of a
civilised people than could be gathered from occasional hunters and
traders.  These young men were furnished by their friends with an outfit
of oxen, and some merchandise in the shape of leopard skins,
ostrich-feathers, and ivory.  They were instructed by Macora to render
all the assistance they could to his friend Willem and his young
associates.

On leaving, the hunters were escorted by the chief and other leading men
of the tribe for a distance of several miles.  At parting with these,
our adventurers had every reason to know that they were taking leave of
true friends.

The chief and Sindo were nearly disconsolate at the separation,
especially from Groot Willem, to whom both declared that they owed their
lives.  Each promised sometime to pay him a visit in his far-away home.
The hunters started forth on their journey under the firm impression
that amongst the Makololo were men possessing almost every noble
attribute of human nature.



CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

A HERD OF BUFFALOES.

When on what might be termed the way back to Graaf Reinet, Hans,
Hendrik, and Arend were on very good terms with themselves and everybody
else.  This was not the case with Groot Willem.  He moved on along with
the others because there was still a prospect of meeting with giraffes;
but the fear of reaching the settlements without taking a pair of young
ones back with him was a source of constant annoyance.

He was inclined to linger on the road, and never lost an opportunity of
delaying the march in pursuit of different animals, either for amusement
or for food.

On the third morning after parting with Macora a large herd of buffaloes
was observed.  They were pasturing around the base of a hill about half
a mile from the line of route on which our travellers were proceeding.
In an instant Groot Willem was in his saddle and riding towards them.
The others seemed rather reluctant to accompany him.

"Here's a delay of another day," exclaimed Arend.  "Willem will kill a
buffalo, and insist on our staying to eat it."

"Very likely," said Hendrik; "but I don't see why he should have all the
sport to himself."

Leaping into their saddles Hendrik and Arend rode after Willem, and were
followed by two of the Makololo mounted on oxen.  The patient and
philosophical Hans remained behind, to await their return.

Following a course that would place him in advance of the herd, Willem,
who did not wish to frighten the buffaloes by charging rapidly upon
them, was soon overtaken by the others.

The buffaloes--more than two hundred in number--were all moving in one
direction, but very slowly, as they were engaged in grazing.

When the hunters had got within about three hundred yards of them, they
all raised their heads, and, after gazing for a moment at the strange
creatures who had come to disturb their repast, again lowered them, and
continued quietly pasturing.

The leader of the herd had not yet given the signal for flight.

"We must ride farther to the left and get round them," suggested Willem.
"Some of the old bulls may charge upon us, and, if so, we had better
retreat up the hill."

By the time the hunters had reached the sloping ground, and got within a
hundred paces of the herd, several of the bulls had placed themselves in
an attitude of defiance, and stood fronting the enemy, as if to cover
the retreat of the cows and calves, for there were several of them in
the drove.

A good shot is seldom made from the back of a horse.  Knowing this, the
hunters dismounted; and, taking steady aim, fired, each having selected
a victim.  The three shots were discharged within the same number of
seconds; and, on firing, each of the hunters hastened to regain his
saddle.  On receiving the volley, several bulls broke from the line and
charged furiously forward upon their assailants.

At sight of them, the horses, anxious to get out of the way, began to
pitch and rear, so that it was difficult to mount them.  Hendrik and
Arend succeeded in regaining their saddles; but Willem failed.

The horse which had often carried him within a few yards of an enraged
elephant, was new struck frantic with fear at the bellowing of the
wounded bulls.  As they made their impetuous charge, he endeavoured to
get loose from his master.  The more the hand of Willem strove to
restrain him, the more anxious he seemed to be off; and notwithstanding
the hunter's great strength, he was dragged on the bridle until one of
the reins broke; and the other was pulled through his grasp with a
velocity that cut his fingers nearly to the bone.  By this time one of
the bulls was close up to him.  Notwithstanding his great size, Groot
Willem was neither unwieldy nor awkward in action.  On the contrary, he
was swift of foot; but, for all this, there was no hope of his being
able to outrun an African buffalo.

So sudden had been the charge of the angry animals, that one of the oxen
ridden by the Makololo, had not time to be got out of the way, and was
abandoned by his owner.  As good luck would have it for Willem, the
unfortunate ox was the means of saving his life.  Charging upon it, the
buffalo thrust one of its long horns through the ribs of the ox, lifting
the saddle clear from its back, and laying the animal itself along the
earth, dead as if struck down by a pole-axe.

The buffalo was itself now attacked by three or four dogs, that served
for some time to engage its attention.

For a good while its canine assailants continued to keep clear of both
its hoofs and horns; till one of them, essaying to seize it by the
snout, was struck down and trampled under foot.  The vindictive nature
of the African buffalo was now displayed before the eyes of the
spectators.  Not contented with having killed the dog, it knelt down
upon the carcass, crushing it under its knees, as if determined to leave
not a bone unbroken!  The animal seemed angry with itself for its
inability to mangle its victim with hoof and horns, at the same time.

While this scene was transpiring, Groot Willem was given time to reload
his roer.  A bullet through its body brought the buffalo again to its
knees, from which it had just arisen to continue the pursuit.  Bellowing
in a manner that caused the air to vibrate for a mile around the spot,
the creature once more rose to its feet, staggered a pace or two, and
then sank back to the earth, to rise no more.  It had been severely
wounded by the first fire, and the grass for a large space round it was
sprinkled with its blood.

Groot Willem was not the only one who had been charged upon.  Arend and
Hendrik were also obliged to retreat, each pursued by a brace of bulls.
Fortunately the hill was close at hand, and against its sloping side
they urged their horses both with whip and spur.

The immense weight of the buffalo bull hinders him from running rapidly
up hill, although in the contrary direction he will often overtake a
horse.  As the animals in question soon perceived the hopelessness of
the chase, they abandoned it; and trotting back to the drove, now going
off over the plain below, they left the young hunters in quiet
possession of the spoil they had obtained.  This was what the hunters
supposed they would do.  They soon saw their mistake, as the four bulls,
instead of continuing on after the retreating drove, turned suddenly to
one side, and rushed towards a wounded bull that was lagging a long way
in the rear.  A spectacle was now witnessed which caused astonishment to
those who saw it.  Instead of trying to protect their injured companion,
the four bulls set upon it, flinging it from its feet, and goring it
with their horns.  This cruel treatment was continued until the
unfortunate animal lay still in death.  They did not appear to be
inspired by any feeling of rage, but only acting under some instinct not
understood.  There seemed something horrible in this attack upon their
disabled companion.  But alas! it was not so very unlike what, often
occurs among men,--misfortune too frequently turning friends into
enemies.

After settling with their wounded comrade, the four bulls continued
their retreat, and soon overtook the herd they had tarried to protect.

The buffalo shot by Willem was the largest our hunters had yet killed;
and curiosity led them to make a note of its dimensions.  It was eight
feet in length, and nearly six in height to the summit of the shoulders.
The tips of its long horns were five feet three inches asunder.  Across
one shoulder, and a part of the neck, was a broad scar more than two
feet in length.  This scar was conspicuous at some distance,
notwithstanding the animal's hide was covered with a thick coat of dark
brown hair, showing that it was not very far advanced in years.  The
wound leaving this mark had evidently been given by the claws of a lion.
This they knew to be the case, from seeing three scratches parallel
with each other, showing where the lion's claws had been drawn
transversely across the shoulder.

Some steak and other choice portions, being cut from the brace of bulls,
were packed upon the saddle croup to be carried away; and after a short
halt, and a feast upon fresh buffalo beef, our adventurers resumed their
interrupted journey.



CHAPTER FORTY TWO.

THE POISONED SPRING.

On the evening of the eighth day after leaving Macora the hunters
encamped on the bank of a small stream, which they computed to be about
one hundred and twenty miles south of the place from where their return
journey commenced.

Within the mind of Groot Willem, there was still a lingering hope that
they might again meet with giraffes; and he had never lost an
opportunity of looking for them along the route.

The delays caused by his explorations had been a source of constant
annoyance to the others; but as Willem had a will of his own,--one,
nevertheless, united with a disposition so cheerful as to be proof
against any attempts at a controversy,--his companions were compelled to
be content with the knowledge that they were slowly progressing towards
Graaf Reinet.

In the morning after entering their new camp, they arose to look upon a
scene more beautiful than any other they had yet beheld in the extended
country over which they had wandered.  Near them was a grove of oleander
bushes, loaded with beautiful blossoms.  Every branch was adorned by the
presence of two or more beautiful green sugar-birds,--the _certhia
(Nectarinia) famosa_.  Nothing in nature can exceed in splendour the
plumage of the sugar-bird.  The little vale in which the hunters had
encamped seemed a paradise, bathed in golden sunlight; and even the
cattle appeared to leave it with some reluctance.

On moving down the bed of the watercourse, they found that they were not
travelling by the side of a running stream, but by what, in the dry
season, was a chain of lakelets or water-holes.  After crossing a bar
between two of these ponds, they were much annoyed by a horrible stench
borne upon the breeze, and coming from the direction they intended to
take.  As they journeyed on, so offensive grew the smell that a halt was
made, and a resolution passed without a dissenting voice, that they
should turn to the east and get to windward of this offensive odour,
still unexplained.

While doing this, they observed to the west, a flock of vultures,
wheeling high up in the air; and, down upon the plain below, hundreds of
jackals and hyenas were seen leaping about.  So large an assemblage of
these carrion-feeding creatures called for an explanation; and, on
riding nearer, the hunters saw a number of dead antelopes lying within a
few feet of each other.

As they rode farther along the plain, more dead antelopes were seen, and
they began to fear that they had entered some valley of death, from
which they might never go out.  The mystery--for such it was to them--
was readily cleared up by the Makololo and Congo.  The antelopes had
been drinking water from a pond or spring poisoned by the natives; which
proved that our travellers had arrived in the neighbourhood of some
tribe of the Bechuanas.  Of this method for wantonly destroying animal
life, practised by many of the native African tribes, the hunters had
often heard.  The many stories which they had been told of the wholesale
destruction of game by poison, and which they had treated with
incredulity, after all, had not been exaggerated.  They estimated the
number of dead antelopes lying within a circumference of a mile, at not
less than two hundred.  One of the water-holes of the chain by which
they had halted, had been poisoned.  A herd of antelopes had quenched
their thirst at the place, and had only climbed up the bank to lie down
and die.

"We have been very fortunate," remarked Groot Willem, "in not encamping
by the poisoned water ourselves.  Had we done so, we would all, by this
time, have been food for the jackals and hyenas, as these antelopes now
are."

To this unqualified surmise, Congo did not wholly give his assent.  He
believed that men would not be likely to drink a sufficient quantity of
the water to cause death; though he further stated that their cattle and
horses, had they quenched their thirst at the pond, would have been
killed to a certainty.

For the sake of procuring three or four antelopes for food, with the
least trouble, the Bechuanas had destroyed a whole herd.  This is the
usual economy practised by those who live in a land teeming with a too
great abundance of animal life.

To get away from the sickening scene thus presented to their view, even
Groot Willem was willing to continue the journey; and it was resumed,
all being thankful that the distance accomplished on the day before had
not been so long, by a mile or two, as it might have been.

Knowing that they were in the neighbourhood of Bechuanas, the Makololo
professed some fear for their cattle.  They said that these might be
stolen or taken from them by force.  But the hunters believed such fears
too flattering to the Bechuana character.  From all they had heard of
the people composing that numerous nation, they were under the
impression that they were too cowardly and indolent to be regarded with
any apprehension.

The next morning, when continuing their journey, Arend, who was riding a
little in advance, suddenly reined up, at the same time, calling out--

"I see a kraal and a field of maize."

Groot Willem and Hendrik rode forward, and became convinced that Arend
was in the right.  Almost at the same instant, the hunter descried other
objects in which he was more interested than in a village of Bechuanas,
or anything belonging to them.  Two large elephants were seen moving
across the plain, in the direction of the maize-field.

"Let us steal upon them silently," suggested Willem.  "We need not all
go.  Two or three will be enough.  Some one must stay with the cattle."

Saying this, he rode off, followed by Hendrik and Arend.

Hans assented to stay behind, attended by Swartboy; and Congo, with the
assistance of the Makololo, halted the cattle and pack-horses; thus
tarrying, they were witnesses of what they expected to prove an
interesting scene.  They saw nothing to prevent the stalkers from
obtaining a fine opportunity for a shot; and they knew that a wounded
elephant seldom seeks safety in flight.  One or both of the animals
would be killed; and the violent death of an elephant is, under all
circumstances, a spectacle painfully interesting.

"But for us," said Groot Willem, as he rode by the side of Hendrik,
"those elephants would destroy that field of maize.  The owners of the
field could not prevent them, if they were to try.  They cannot even
frighten them away from their work of devastation."

The young hunter was soon to be undeceived.



CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

EXCITEMENT FOR ALL.

The two elephants were moving along what seemed to be a narrow path
leading to the maize-field, or the kraal beyond it.  They were in no
great haste, but going as though conscious that a favourite article of
food was near, and that they were pretty sure of obtaining it.

"When once they get engaged upon the corn," said Hendrik, "they are
ours.  They won't notice us, and we shall have an opportunity for
getting a good shot."

Suddenly one of the elephants--the foremost one--was seen to sink into
the earth!  The other stopped for a moment, as though endeavouring to
comprehend the cause of his companion's disappearance.  It then turned
round and commenced carefully treading the back track.

"A pit," exclaimed Hendrik.  "One of the elephants has gone down into a
pit."

"On, on! let us kill the other," shouted Groot Willem, as he urged his
gigantic horse into a gallop.  Hendrik and Arend galloped after.

The retreating elephant was apparently in no haste to get out of their
way, but moved leisurely along.

When the three youths were within a hundred yards of it, uttering a
trumpet-like sound, it turned and charged toward them.  Expecting
something of the kind, they were not unprepared.  Groot Willem instantly
brought the roer to his shoulder and fired.

The loud report of the gun was accompanied by the sharp cracks of the
two rifles carried by his companions.  Hendrik and Arend wheeled their
horses to the right; Willem turned to the left, and the huge monster
rushed between them.

For a moment it stopped, as if undecided which to pursue first.  Had the
three gone in the same direction, there probably would not have been an
instant's hesitation, and one of them would have risked being overtaken.
That moment of indecision gave them time for forming a plan, and
gaining a start upon their pursuer.

"The pit! the pit!" shouted Hendrik.  "Ride for the pit!"

His command was instantly obeyed.

The elephant turned, and, observing the direction of their retreat,
continued to pursue them; but in a slow, leisurely way, as though not
wholly decided whether to follow them or not.  At that instant was heard
a loud prolonged bellowing,--the voice of an elephant in the agony of
despair.  It proceeded from the pit.

The pursuer instantly came to a stand.  The cry of its companion in
distress awoke a feeling more human than that of revenge.  It was
fear,--a fear that seemed to control its power of reasoning, since it
immediately turned tail and retreated from the danger that had befallen
its friend.  While making its retreat, it appeared to choose the tracks
made by the horses in approaching the spot; as though instinct
admonished it that by so doing it would avoid any pitfalls that might be
constructed on the plain.

"After him!  Follow him up," cried Arend.  "Hans is in danger."

Only a short while was spent in reloading their guns; then, urging their
horses to the greatest speed, they galloped after the elephant.

Hans and his dusky companions had not been uninterested spectators of
the actions of the others, and now saw that they would soon be called
upon to become actors in a similar scene.  The elephant was rushing
rapidly down upon them, but the thought of flight only arose in their
minds to be immediately dismissed.  The pack-horses must be defended at
all cost; and the young botanist, bidding Swartboy and Congo look after
them, rode out in front to meet the advancing foe.

He was mounted on a horse that would not stand quiet for two seconds at
a time; and as his life might depend on the correctness of his aim, he
dismounted for the purpose of firing.  His horse, released, galloped
away from his side.  The wounded elephant was not more than fifty paces
off, and now turned in pursuit of the horse, apparently without seeing
the enemy it should have feared most.

This was the opportunity for Hans, and he did not allow it to escape
him.  Steadily raising the gun to his shoulder, he aimed at the huge
creature, just behind its fore leg, as the latter was thrown forward in
the stride.  On shambled the enraged monster with a deafening roar.

The other horses had already broken from the control of their keepers,
and were galloping in different directions.  A few long stretches and
the tusks of the elephant were close upon Congo's steed, which chanced
to be crossing the line of pursuit at right angles.  In another instant
the horse was tossed into the air, and, passing six or eight feet high
above the monster's back, fell heavily upon the ground behind it.  But
the Kaffir had slid out of the saddle and stood upon the ground
unharmed.

The effort made in destroying the horse was the last the wounded
elephant was able to perform.  The dogs were clustering upon its heels;
and as it reeled wildly about to get at them, it seemed to grow giddy,
and at length fell heavily along the earth.

"I do believe," said Hendrik, who at this moment rode up along with
Willem and Arend,--"yes, I'm quite certain that the dogs think they have
dragged that elephant down!"

"Den they is as big an ole fool as Congo," said Swartboy who was annoyed
at the fact that the Kaffir had just performed a feat for which he would
receive the approbation of his young masters.  Congo only answered with
a smile.  He had again aroused the jealousy of his rival, and was
satisfied.

The elephant, which proved to be a very large bull, expired a few
minutes after falling.  Its tusks were over five feet in length, and to
Swartboy was given the task of extracting them.

The horse ridden by Congo was of course no longer available; and the
lading of another had to be distributed amongst the remaining
pack-horses, to provide the Kaffir with a mount.  The spot was soon
deserted.

Hendrik, Groot Willem, and Arend, were anxious to be off to the pit,
into which the other elephant had fallen, having never seen one caught
in that way before.

"Hans," inquired Hendrik, "will you look after everything here, or will
you come along with us?"

"O, I prefer staying," said the quiet Hans.  "Perhaps by doing so I may
again come in for the lion's share of the sport, as I have just now."

"We must take Congo along with us," suggested Arend.  "It is certain
there will be some of the natives at the pit.  We saw several houses
near the maize-field, and there is no doubt a large kraal."

"Yes, come with us, Congo," commanded his master, as he rode off,
followed by all the others except the good-natured Hans and his servant
Swartboy, who usually came in for the biggest share of the business,
while the others appropriated the amusement.



CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.

THE PIT.

We believe there is a different sound expressed by each of the words,
roar, shriek, yell, and scream: but the first expression of pain or
terror of the elephant in the pit,--the sound that had caused its
companion to retreat, seemed a combination of all the above.  Since it
first shook the surrounding atmosphere, it had been often repeated and
the young hunters, familiar with most methods of killing elephants, were
under the impression that the one in the pit was being subjected to some
torture more horrible than any they had ever heard of.

"They have probably placed a pointed stake in the pit," observed
Hendrik, as they approached, "and the animal is impaled upon it."

On coming nearer to the place, they saw that there were people around
the pit,--both men and women.  One of the men, intensely Ethiopic in
appearance, came forward as the hunting party approached, and by signs
offered for sale the tusks of the elephant still roaring underneath
them.

"We are safe with these people," remarked Congo.  "They are used to
traders, and will do us no more harm than to cheat us in a bargain, if
they can."

On arriving at the pit, our adventurers saw that it was not a square
hole with an upright stake in the centre, as Hendrik had supposed.  It
was oval at the top and contracted to a point at the bottom, in the
shape of an inverted cone, leaving no level space on which the elephant
could stand.  Its four feet were jammed together; and, compelled to
support the weight of its immense body in this position, the agony it
suffered must have been as intense as the creature was capable of
enduring.

This pit, the plan of which was devised with devilish ingenuity for
producing unnecessary torture, was about nine feet long and apparently
seven or eight in depth, and the struggles of the elephant only had the
effect of wedging its huge feet more closely together and increasing its
tortures.

Two pits had been dug but a short distance from one another; and the
wisdom of this plan had a living illustration before their eyes.
Although the two had been nicely concealed, and the excavated earth
carried away from the place, both had been discovered by the elephant,
but one of them too late.  Had there been but one, it would not have
been caught, for it evidently had placed a foot on the first, detected
the hidden danger, and, while in the act of avoiding it, had fallen
suddenly and irrecoverably on to the other.

All the men standing around were armed, the most of them with assegais
or spears, but they were making no attempt to end the agony of the
captured elephant.

Groot Willem stepped in front of it, and was raising the long barrel of
his roer to the level of one of the elephant's eyes, when he was stopped
by two or three of the blacks, who rushed forward and restrained him
from discharging the piece.

Congo, who had professed to understand what they said, told Willem that
the elephant was not to be killed at present.

"What can be the reason of that?" exclaimed Arend.  "Can they wish the
animal to live, merely for the sake of witnessing its sufferings?  It
cannot be saved.  It must die where it is now."

"I'll tell you how it is," said Hendrik.  "They have a fine taste for
music, and they intend keeping the elephant in that pit, like a bird in
its cage, for the purpose of hearing the fine notes it is giving out."

One of the blacks was armed with a gun, all but the lock, which last was
wanting!  The attention of Groot Willem was particularly directed to
this weapon, its owner holding it out before him, and making signs that
he wished some powder and a bullet for the purpose of loading it.
Willem desired to be informed how the ammunition was to be used, but the
black, by a shake of his woolly head, candidly admitted that he did not
know.

"Ask him what he brought the gun here for," said Willem, speaking to
Congo.

In answer to the question, the man made another confession of ignorance.

A little excitement was now observed amongst the blacks, and another
party was seen approaching from the direction of the village.  They
brought news that the head man of the kraal was coming in person, and
that he was to have the honour of killing the elephant.  He had lately
purchased a new gun from some _smouse_ or trader, and he was about to
exhibit his skill in the use of it, before the eyes of his admiring
subjects.

On the arrival of the chief, the young hunters saw that the gun in his
possession was a common soldier's musket, very much out of order, and
one that a sportsman would hesitate about discharging.

"The man will never kill the great brute with that thing," said Hendrik.
"He will be far more likely to kill himself, or some of those around
him.  If the elephant waits till it is despatched in that way, it stands
a good chance to die of starvation."

The chief seemed very vain of being the owner of a gun, and anxious to
show to his subjects the proper mode of despatching an elephant.
Standing about twenty-five paces from the pit, he took aim at the
animal's head and fired.

The report of the musket was followed by a roar more expressive of rage
than pain, and a small protuberance on the elephant's head showed that
the ball had done no more than to cause a slight abrasion of the skin.
The operation of reloading the musket was performed in about six minutes
and again the chief fired.  This time, standing at the distance of
fifteen paces.  The elephant again astonished the chief and his
followers, by continuing to live.

Another six or seven minutes were passed in loading the gun, which was
again fired as before.  The only acknowledgment the huge beast made of
having received the shot, was another loud cry of impotent rage.

The company around the pit was then joined by a party not hitherto on
the ground.  It consisted of Hans with Swartboy and the other followers
of the expedition.  They had extracted the tusks of their elephant,
lashed them with rheims to the pack-saddles of two horses, and brought
them along.

"What is all this about?" asked Hans.  "Can't you kill that elephant?
I've heard several shots."

"They will not allow us to try," replied Groot Willem.  "A chief is
trying to kill it with an old musket, and will neither allow me to fire,
nor that well-armed gentleman standing near him."  Willem pointed to him
who carried the gun without a lock.

At this moment, a communication was made to the Kaffir by the native
chief.  Annoyed at his want of success, he had some doubts as to his
weapon being what had been represented by the smouse from whom he had
purchased it.  He wished to make a comparison of its destructive power
with one of their guns, and Groot Willem was invited to take a shot at
the elephant.

"But, baas Willem," said Congo, as he finished this communication, "you
not do that, you not shoot the elephant."

"Why?" asked Willem, in surprise.

"You kill um with you roer, and then they want from you.  They want it,
and sure take it."

"Take what--the elephant?"

"No, baas Willem, the roer," answered the Kaffir.

Though not afraid of having his gun taken from him, Groot Willem and his
companions were unwilling to have any difficulty with the blacks; and
the invitation of the chief was courteously declined.  The excuse made
was that, after the failure of the great man himself, any similar
attempts on their part would certainly be unsuccessful.

A general invitation was now given to the company to join in despatching
the elephant; and it was immediately assailed by more than a dozen men
armed with assegais and javelins.  They succeeded in killing it in a
little less than half an hour; and, during that time, the torture to
which the poor beast was subjected aroused the indignation of our
adventurers, who, if allowed, could have released it from its agonies in
half a score of seconds.  They were true hunters, and, although not
sparing of animal life, they took no delight in its tortures.



CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.

ON THE KARROO.

After killing the elephant, the natives commenced the less difficult
task of cutting it up and carrying it off to their kraal.  The feet were
reserved for the especial use of the chief; and, while waiting for some
of his dependents to procure them, he granted our hunters an audience.
They were desirous to learn whether the kraal was ever visited by
traders,--a class of people they were anxious to meet, though Groot
Willem was more anxious to know whether giraffes ever visited the
neighbourhood.  Congo was called, and for some time he and the chief
were heard talking in loud tones, and both at the same time; neither
exhibiting the least inclination to listen to one another!  Their voices
grew louder and louder; and our adventurers saw that they were engaged
in a hot dispute, that threatened to end in something more unpleasant
than a war of words.

"What does he say, Congo," asked Willem.

"I don't know, baas Willem," answered the Kaffir with a shake of the
head, that betrayed some shame at his own ignorance.

"How is that?" demanded his master.  "Can't you understand the language
he speaks?"

"No, baas Willem, he talks no Zooloo, no Kaffir of any kind."

"Then why were you pretending to interpret his language a few minutes
ago?" asked Hendrik.

"I was trying to learn it," answered Congo, in a tone conveying the
belief that he had given a satisfactory answer.

"We have no time to stop here for you to learn a language," said
Hendrik.  "And if you can't converse with the man why did you not say
so?  How came you to tell us what he was saying a few minutes ago?"

The attention of all was now called to Swartboy, who seemed overpowered
with joy.

It was some time before he was able to make himself understood; but at
last he was heard to mutter:--

"I tole you that Congo was a ole fool.  Now you all see for yourselfs.
Look at 'im!  Don't he look four, five, six times fool.  I tole ye so."

"Can _you_ understand what the chief says?" asked Groot Willem.

"Yaas, baas Willem; any Swartman know dat."

"Then talk to him yourself.  You know what we wish to learn from him."

The Bushman's features now assumed a quizzically comical expression; and
from this the hunters saw that he had become serious.

Going up to the chief he commenced a conversation, from which Willem
learned, after it was translated to him, that no giraffes had been seen
in the neighbourhood for many moons.  Very few traders visited the
tribe; and those who had done so had not left a good name behind them.

The chief lived in the kraal seen not far away; and the hunters were
invited to pay him a visit.

This invitation was immediately accepted by Willem, who seemed to have
lost all desire to return to Graaf Reinet again.

This attempt on the part of Willem to delay their homeward journey was
easily defeated by Hendrik.

"Why should we go to their kraal?" asked he.  "We shouldn't be allowed
to leave it for two or three days, and we want to go on in search of
giraffes.  There are none here."

With this argument Willem was well pleased; and they prepared to
continue their journey.

Before making a move, they saw most of the elephant's flesh taken away
by the Bechuanas.  Three oxen were laden with it, and several of the
natives staggered under heavy loads,--covered from head to foot with
long strips cut from the animal's sides.  Some of the blacks carried
large square flakes of the flesh with their heads thrust through a hole
cut in the centre,--the broad disk descending over the shoulders like
the skirts of a Mexican's _serape_.

The sight of these people apparently clothed with bleeding flesh, and
staggering under its weight towards their homes, was, as Hendrik
observed, an "antidote against hunger, effectual for at least a month."

After taking leave of the tribe, our travellers continued on towards the
south.  It was quite dark before they arrived at a suitable
camping-place.  They had met with no water since leaving the pools
passed in the morning, and the cattle were sadly in want of it.

Unable to make much progress in the darkness that came thickly over
them, the animals--both oxen and horses--were unladen and a halt was
made, with the intention of resuming the march at the first dawn of day.
By early morning they were on the move, anxious to reach water as soon
as possible.

For several miles they journeyed over a tract of ground, the surface of
which resembled that of the ocean lashed by a storm.  It was a
constantly recurring series of abrupt undulations, like huge billows and
the troughs between them.

Now for the first time they noticed the great difference that thirst
produces between horses and cow cattle.  The latter seemed to think that
they could obtain relief by quietly yielding to the enervating effect of
thirst, and travelling as slowly as their drivers would permit them.
They were urged forward with much difficulty, and the Makololo were
constantly wielding their huge _jamboks_ to induce them to go quicker.
With a rolling gait they crawled unwillingly forward, their tongues
protruding from their mouths, each offering as perfect a picture of
despair as could well be imagined.

The horses on the contrary seemed eager to get over the ground as
quickly as possible.  They appeared to act under the guidance of reason,
as if knowing that they were still far from the wished-for water, and
that the faster they travelled the sooner it would be reached.

Throughout the afternoon Hendrik and Willem rode in advance of the
others, anxiously looking out for spring, pool, or stream.  The
all-sustaining fluid must be found that night, or their cattle would
perish.  Their knowledge of this filled them with forebodings for the
future, and they travelled on almost as despairingly as their oxen.
They had made a great mistake in so imprudently parting with the
Bechuanas, without making inquiries about the country through which they
should have to travel.  Had they done so, they might have avoided the
difficulty their indiscretion had now brought upon them.

A little before sunset a hill, higher than any they had seen during the
day, was descried to the right of their course.  At its base they saw
growing a grove of stunted trees.  Raising their heads and cocking their
ears, the horses ridden by Willem and Hendrik started off towards the
hill at a brisk pace, each uttering a low whimpering, that their riders
interpreted into the word _Water_.  Before reaching the grove they
passed a dead lion, part of which had been eaten by some carrion-feeding
denizens of the desert.  By the side of the carcass were also seen three
or four dead jackals, which they supposed the lion to have killed before
giving up the ghost himself.

On reaching the grove, they discovered a small pool of muddy water; and
with outstretched necks their horses rushed towards it.  By its edge lay
the dead body of a buffalo; and near by a hyena in the same condition.

"Hold your horse!" exclaimed Hendrik, suddenly reining in his own.
"Perhaps the water is poisoned.  See that buffalo and hyena,--and we
have just passed the other dead animals."

It required all their strength to hinder the horses from plunging into
the pool.  Only by turning their heads in the opposite direction and
driving the spurs into their sides, did they succeed in keeping them
away from the water.  Even then the suffering animals seemed determined
to rear backwards into the pool; and it was not without a struggle that
they were forced away from it.

The hunters now rode back to meet their companions and warn them off,
till the water in the pool should be tested by Swartboy, Congo, and the
Makololo.



CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

THE POOL OF DEATH.

On coming up with their companions the two pioneers reported the glad
tidings that water had been found.  But the joy caused by this
announcement was at once changed into gloom, when they expressed their
doubts as to the purity of the element.  Hans and Arend at once
dismounted, and, taking Swartboy and two of the Makololo along with
them, went on towards the pool.

On reaching it, Swartboy at once pronounced the water to be poisoned.
It had been done, he said, with two separate kinds of poison, both of
the deadliest nature.  A bundle of roots that had been mashed between
two stones was seen lying in the water, and floating on its surface was
a large quantity of the skins of some poisonous species of berry.

There was no help for it.  They must avoid the danger by going another
way, or their animals, at scent of the water, could not be restrained
from drinking it.

The buffalo had quenched its thirst and then sought the shade of the
trees to lie down and die.  The strong lion had tasted of the poisoned
fluid, but his strength had not saved him.  A few paces from the pool,
and he had fallen down in his tracks.  The jackals had partially
devoured the lion, then slaked their thirst with the deadly draught, and
returned to their repast only to renew, but never to finish it.  After
satisfying themselves that the pool had been poisoned, they were about
returning to their companions, when they observed a great commotion
amongst the cattle and horses of the expedition.  The former were
lowing, the latter neighing, in an unusual manner.  The two horses which
had already visited the imperilled spot, seemed especially impatient of
control; and, in the efforts made by Hendrik to restrain him, the girth
of his saddle got loose and was broken.  As he dismounted for the
purpose of repairing it, the horse broke away from him and galloped back
towards the pool, uttering its shrill neigh, as if a signal for the
others to follow.

The invitation was not slighted.  The pack-horses immediately swept off
in pursuit.  The oxen seemed suddenly awakened to new life.  Either
instinct, or the example of the horses, had admonished them that water
was near.  The oxen, carrying heavy loads, that for the last few miles
had been goaded onward with great difficulty, became suddenly
reinvigorated and joined in the general stampede.  The whole cavalcade
had soon escaped beyond control.

Now occurred a race between the thirsty cattle and their owners, as to
which should first reach the pool.  Hans, Arend, and the two Makololo
formed a line in front of it and strove to check the impetuous charge.
Their efforts proved vain.  Mad with the agony of thirst, the beasts had
no longer any respect for the authority of man; and they who were trying
to stay them from self-destruction only saved _themselves_ from being
trodden under foot, by getting quickly out of the way.

As the pond was not more than ten feet in diameter, and could only be
approached on its lower edge, all the animals were unable to reach it.
The first horse that approached the water, was instantly pushed into it
by two others close following him, and, by the time the three had fairly
commenced imbibing the poisoned fluid, they were charged upon by several
of the oxen.

Heavy blows with jamboks and the butt-ends of rifles produced no effect
in forcing the animals away.  Everything was unheeded but the mad raging
desire of quenching their thirst.

Fortunately for the hunters, all their cattle could not drink at the
same time, as they stood in each others' way.  For about ten minutes,
there was a scene of indescribable confusion amidst shouts and
struggling.  The three horses and two of the oxen, jammed tightly
together, were unable to get out again,--even had they been so inclined.
So firmly had they become wedged against each other and the high bank
above, that neither could move a step.

The hole was about three feet in depth and the bodies of the five
animals completely filled it up.  Some others of the cattle, failing to
reach the water from the low bank, scrambled up to the high one; but, on
looking down, they could see nothing but the backs of the five animals
in occupation.  One of the oxen, in a tremendous effort made to get its
mouth to the water, was borne down and trampled under the feet of the
others.

After more than half an hour of hard work, the hunters, assisted by
their black companions succeeded in driving all the animals away, except
the five that retained possession of the pool.  These five never left
it.  Three horses and two oxen were the loss that was sustained.  They
were pack animals that had thus perished; and fortunately they were not
laden with powder, or any substance easily injured.

The packs were at once removed from them and placed on the backs of
others,--an arrangement that, from that time forth, caused Congo and
Swartboy to make their journey on foot.  With this, Congo seemed quite
satisfied.  The loss of his "mount" did not trouble him so much as the
fear that he should lose Spoor'em, his favourite hound, whose
sufferings, as well as those of the other dogs, were now painful to
witness.

By this time they had journeyed a few miles beyond the poisoned pond;
the shade of night had again commenced gathering over the plain.  They
saw they would have to continue their journey throughout the night.  The
emergency would not admit of the least delay, for every hour was fast
taking away what little strength was left either to themselves or their
animals.  But which way should they go?  That was the question that
required answering.

They did not think of returning to the north; but there were the east,
south, and west for them to choose from.  Which of those directions was
the likeliest for water?  This question the young hunters were wholly
unable to answer, and must have left themselves to the guidance of
chance, had they not been accompanied by Swartboy.

The Bushman suggested a course, of which, not only the Makololo, but
Congo approved.  For all this, his proposal was prefaced by the usual
complaint against the Kaffir, as the cause of all their misfortunes.
Having established this fact to his satisfaction, he proceeded to inform
his masters, that he had heard much in his boyhood of the manners and
customs of the Bechuanas.

Some weak tribe of that nation, he thought, had sought refuge from an
enemy by making their home in the great karroo, or desert, through which
the expedition was now passing.  They had poisoned the pool for the
purpose of preventing their enemies from receiving a supply of water
while pursuing them.  They who had done so could not be expecting an
enemy from the north, nor yet from the south, where other tribes of
their kindred dwelt.  They could only look for foes from the east, from
the land of the Zooloo Kaffirs; whom Swartboy declared to be the curse
of the earth.  For these reasons, Swartboy believed that a tribe of
Bechuanas would be found to the west, and that, by a journey of a few
hours in that direction, their kraal might be reached.

No one had any argument against this reasoning of Swartboy; and,
yielding to his suggestion, the march was again commenced, with their
faces turned westward.

There was one thing that gave the hunters a hope.  It was the knowledge
that they were not in that part of South Africa, where there is any very
extensive _karroo_.  They were too far to the south-east to have strayed
into the great Kalahari desert.  The karroo they were traversing, might
be a small one, which could be crossed in a few hours had they been able
to travel with any speed.  Unfortunately, they were not.

So exhausted were their animals that the use of jamboks and the
strongest language, spoken in the Dutch, English, Hottentot, Kaffir, and
Makololo tongues could not make them move one step faster than two miles
to the hour.  This rate of travelling will annihilate a great distance,
but only in a great deal of time; and, knowing that their cattle could
not hold out much longer, our adventurers began to fear that their
hunting expedition would turn out something worst than a failure.



CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.

THE WATER-ROOT.

Throughout that long and dreary night they toiled on, driving the cattle
before them.  Guided by the Southern Cross they pursued nearly a
straight course.  When morning dawned upon the scene, they observed that
the surface of the country still continued the same,--presenting that
lumpy appearance with which during the last two days they had become so
familiar.

Although all were hungry, weary, and suffering grievously from thirst,
there was no time for making a stop.  The cattle must be taken on as
speedily as possible, or abandoned, along with their loads.

Slowly the sun climbed up into the sky, until it was directly over their
heads; and yet, judging by the appearance of the country, they had not
moved a step from the place where they had first entered upon the
karroo.  The landscape around them seemed exactly the same!

"We have had about enough of this sort of travelling," remarked Hendrik,
"and it's quite time that we began to think of ourselves, and not quite
so much of our property."

"What do you wish?" asked Willem.  "Abandon the pack-oxen?"

"We shall probably have to do so in the end.  It appears as if the time
had come.  We had better save our horses and ourselves and let the
others go."

"You forget, Hendrik," rejoined his brother, "that we are not all
mounted.  We cannot desert those who are afoot."

"Of course not," answered the young cornet, "but even Swart, who is not
a fast traveller, could go two miles to one he is doing now, with all
his time engaged in urging forward the animals."

This conversation was interrupted by a shout from Swartboy himself.  He
was standing over a little plant with narrow leaves, that rose not more
than six inches above the surface of the plain.  It was the stem of the
water-root,--a plant that, on the karroos of South Africa, has saved the
lives of thousands of thirsty travellers, that would otherwise have
perished.  Several stems of the plant were seen growing around the spot,
and the Bushman knew that the want from which all had been suffering,
would be at least partially supplied.  A pick-axe and spade were hastily
procured from a pack carried by one of the oxen; and Swartboy commenced
digging around the stem of the plant first discovered.  The earth, baked
by the sun nearly as hard as a burnt brick, was removed in large flakes,
and the bulb was soon reached,--at the depth of ten or twelve inches
below the surface.  When taken out, it was seen to be of an oval shape,
about seven inches in its longest diameter, and covered with a thin
cuticle of a bright brown colour.  The juicy pulp of the water-root was
cut into slices, and chewed.  It tasted like water itself, that is, it
had no taste at all.  Assegais and knives were now called into active
play; and so abundant was the plant growing near, that in a short time
every man, horse, and ox had been refreshed with a bulb.

The first root obtained by Congo was shared with Spoor'em, the hound,
which, with his tongue far-extended, had been crawling along with much
difficulty.

The young hunters might have passed over miles of karroo covered with
the bulb, without knowing that its slender, insignificant stems were the
indication of a fountain spread bountifully beneath their feet.

Congo and the Makololo were also ignorant of the character of this
curious plant; and all would have gone on without discovering it, had
Swartboy not been of the party.  For the advantage he had given them, by
introducing them to the plant, the Bushman claimed nearly as much credit
as though he had created it.  As no one was disposed to underrate the
service he had done, he obtained what appeared full compensation for all
the annoyance he had felt at being so long neglected.

Partly refreshed by the cooling sap of the water-root, the cattle
behaved as though they thought there was still something worth living
for.  They moved forward with renewed animation; and a long march was
made in the course of the afternoon.

Just as the sun was setting, several huts were descried to the south;
and our travellers continued towards them, quite confident that a full
supply of water would be found near the huts, which, as they drew
towards them, proved to be a kraal of the Bechuanas.  The fear of losing
their cattle was no longer felt.

Before arriving at the huts, their owners came forth to meet them.
Their first salutation was a statement of their surprise that any
travellers could have succeeded in reaching their secluded habitation.

Swartboy replied to this by a request to be conducted to the nearest
place where water could be obtained,--of course to the stream, pools, or
wells that supplied the kraal.  The answer was astounding.  It was that
they knew of no open water within less than a day's journey!  Months had
passed since any of them had seen such a thing, and all the inhabitants
of the kraal had been living without it!

"What does this mean?" demanded Hendrik.  "Surely they are telling lies.
They don't want to give us the water and their story is but a
subterfuge to conceal it.  Tell them, Swart that we don't believe them."

The Bushman did as he was desired, but the Bechuanas only reiterated
their previous statement.

"What nonsense!" exclaimed Arend.  "They take us for such fools as to
suppose people can live without water!  They have a supply somewhere.
We must make a search for it and help ourselves."

"No, baas Arend," interposed Swartboy.  "Don't do this.  They show us
water by an by.  We better wait."

Acting under the advice of the Bushman, the oxen were unladen, and a
camp established close to the kraal.  Although pretending to be
satisfied with the statement of the Bechuanas, that they were living
without water, our travellers had their eyes on the alert, sending
glances of inquiry in every direction, in the hope of discovering where
the much-desired element was kept.  They saw not the slightest
indications of stream or pool, well or water-hole, of any kind.  The
place all around had the same sterile appearance as that of the country
over which they had journeyed for the last two days, and certainly
things looked confirmatory of the Bechuanas' statement.  After all, they
might be telling the truth!  It was not very cheering to think so; and
our travellers became quite disconsolate.

Swartboy, however, did something to assure them, by counselling them to
say nothing, but submit quietly,--trusting to time and patience.  They
followed his instructions, for the want of knowing what else they could
do.  They felt that they were in his hands; and, observing his confident
manner one and all awaited the end without murmuring.



CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.

AN ODD SORT OF SUCTION PUMP.

It was not long before all were convinced of the prudent course which
Swartboy had counselled them to pursue.  Had they insisted on being
supplied with water, or made an attempt to take it by force, they would
have been disappointed.  They would not have been able to find a drop
within many miles of the place where more than two hundred people were
living.  For all this, there was water not far off; and, trusting to
that feeling of generosity which rarely fails when relied upon, they
were at length supplied with it.  Water was brought to them.  Not much
at first, but in small quantities, and carried in the shells of
ostrich-eggs.

They soon had enough to satisfy their own thirst and allow them to turn
their attention to the wants of their cattle.  After drinking off the
contents of an ostrich shell, Groot Willem by signs, directed the
attention of the woman who had given it to him, to the suffering
condition of his horse.  The woman, who could not exactly be called an
"ornament to her sex," only shook her wool-covered head and walked
thoughtfully away.

"Unless we can get some drink for our horses," said Willem, turning to
his companions, "we must keep on.  If we stop much longer here the
animals will die."

"Wait, baas Willem," said Swartboy; "the heart of the Bechuana grow
bigger soon.  He like de Bushman."

Swartboy's prophecy proved correct.  Not long after it was spoken, one
of the Bechuanas came to the camp, and asked to be conducted to the
chief.  Groot Willem was immediately pointed out by Swartboy as the
individual who answered to that appellation, and the black walked up to
him.  His errand was to say that the horses and cattle could only be
watered _one at a time_.  This was satisfactory enough.  Willem's horse,
as belonging to the chief of the party, should be supplied first, and
was led away by the man, its owner following at its heels.  A short
distance from the kraal they came to a well, from which a covering of
earth had recently been removed.  The well, for some purpose, had been
concealed, as if it were a pitfall for the capturing of elephants.

With a bucket made of buffalo hide, water was drawn out, until the horse
had as much as he cared to drink.  He was then led away and another
brought to the place, and then another, and after them the cattle, until
all the animals had drunk to their satisfaction.

This method of watering them showed some intelligence on the part of the
Bechuanas.  It avoided the struggle and confusion which would certainly
have taken place, had the thirsty animals been driven to the well at the
same time.

That evening the hunters had a long conversation with the head man of
the kraal, Swartboy acting as interpreter.  The chief said that his
tribe had once been large and powerful; but what from desertion, and
wars with the Kaffirs, they had become reduced to their present number.
In order to live in peace and security, he had sought refuge in the
solitary karroo, where the hardships to be encountered in reaching his
remote home would deter any enemy from making the attempt.  In order to
make assurance doubly sure, he admitted having caused several
water-holes to be poisoned; and he appeared greatly satisfied at telling
them how, on one occasion, his plan had met with a splendid success.  A
party of his Kaffir enemies had partaken of the water from one of the
poisoned pools, and had died upon the spot.

This portion of the narrative, which was interpreted by Swartboy, seemed
to give the latter as much satisfaction as it did the chief himself.  He
grinned with intense delight as he translated the account of this
strange episode.

In order to give his guests an exalted idea of his greatness the chief
informed them that he was brother to Kalatah.  Groot Willem expressed a
wish to know who or what the great Kalatah might be.  The chief was
astonished, not to say chagrined, at the confession of so much
ignorance, and the hunters were instantly enlightened.  Kalatah was the
most noble warrior, the best brother, the most loyal subject, in fact
the best man in every way, that ever lived, and his memory was, and
ought to be, respected over the whole world.  This was news to our
adventurers, and they were anxious to learn more of the chief and his
wonderful relative.  Willing to gratify his guests, he further informed
them that the Kaffirs had made another attempt to reach the remote kraal
in which he now dwelt.  They had entered the karroo with a large force
well prepared for crossing it, and would probably have succeeded, had
they not been led astray.  His brother, Kalatah, had deserted to the
enemy for the express purpose of becoming a false guide, and under this
pretence he had succeeded in drawing them off the scent.  He had
conducted them far to the north, and into the heart of the great
Kalahari desert.  Not one of these befooled foemen lived to return to
their own country, all having perished by thirst.

"But Kalatah! what of him?" eagerly inquired the listeners.  "How did he
escape the same fate?"

"Kalatah did not escape it," coolly answered the chief.  "He perished
with the rest.  He sacrificed his own life for the sake of saving his
countrymen!"

This act had endeared him to the memory of his people; and the hunters,
on hearing it, became convinced that the Bechuanas, whom they had been
taught to regard as a soul-less, degraded people, had still soul enough
to respect the performance of a noble action.

Next morning our travellers were made acquainted with the method by
which the water was obtained for the daily supply of the kraal.  None
was allowed to be exposed either to the sun or to view, the well being
carefully covered up with a thick stratum of turf.  The kraal had been
built near a spring, which had of course decided the selection of its
site; and over the spring a new surface had been given to the ground, so
that the presence of water underneath could not be suspected.

In order to obtain it for daily use, a hollow reed was inserted into a
small, inconspicuous aperture, left open for the purpose, and covered by
a stone when the reed was not in use.  The water was drawn up by
suction,--the women performing the operation by applying their lips to
the upper end of the reed, filling the mouth with the fluid, and then
discharging it into the egg-shells.

The water supplied to the hunters on their first arrival had been
"pumped" up in this original fashion!

The well was only uncovered and the bucket called into requisition, upon
rare and extraordinary occasions, such as that which had arisen from the
necessity of supplying the horses and cattle of their guests.

Our travellers remained for two days in the Karroo village, during which
they did not suffer much from _ennui_.  They had sufficient employment
in mending their travelling equipments; and the delay gave their cattle
a chance of recruiting their strength, sadly exhausted by the long
toilsome journey just made.

The whites of the party were much interested in observing the habits and
customs of the simple people among whom they had strayed.  None of the
Bechuanas appeared to have the slightest wish to go away from the place
they had chosen for a permanent home.  To them it afforded tranquillity,
and that was all that could be said of it, for it afforded little
besides.  That was all they required.  Not one of them seemed afflicted
with ordinary human desires.  They had no ambition, no curiosity, no
love of wealth,--none of those wants that render wretched the lives of
civilised people.

A place less suited for the abode of men could scarce have been found,
or even imagined.  The soil was sterile, unproductive, and rarely
visited by game worthy of being hunted.  The few roots and other
articles of food they were enabled to raise, furnished but a precarious
subsistence.

So limited was their supply of ordinary utensils, that even the most
trifling article was in their eyes valuable, and anything given them by
their guests was received with a gratitude scarce conceivable.  They had
discovered the art of living in peace and happiness, and were making the
most of the discovery.

From what they were told by the villagers, our travellers could not
expect to get out of the karroo in less than two days, and no water
could be obtained along the route.  But, as their cattle were now well
rested, they were not so apprehensive, and after a friendly leave-taking
with the Bechuanas, they once more continued their journey.

The trouble they had given to their simple hosts was remunerated without
much cost.  A glass bottle that had once contained "Cape Smoke," was
thought by the latter to be of greater value than a gun; and, taking
their circumstances into account, they were perhaps not far astray in
their estimate.



CHAPTER FORTY NINE.

SCENES SELDOM VISITED.

Knowing that the longer they should be in reaching the next
watering-place the weaker their cattle would become, our travellers
strove to perform more than half the distance in less than half the
time.  On their first day's journey after leaving the kraal, they went
about twenty-five miles; but on starting the next day they saw that not
more than half that distance was likely to be accomplished, and that
their principal work would consist in plying the jamboks.

Towards noon they came upon a tract of country, the greater portion of
which had once been flooded with brackish water, and was now slightly
incrusted with salt.  The reflection of the sun's rays on this
incrustation gave it the appearance of water; and, on seeing it, the
cattle, horses, and dogs rushed forward, anticipating a grand pleasure
in quenching their thirst.  On discovering what it was, the animals gave
out their various expressions of disappointment.  The horses neighed,
the oxen bellowed, and the dogs barked and howled.  A constant _mirage_
floated over the plain, magnifying and distorting the appearance of
everything within view.  Where the saline incrustations did not cover
the ground, there grew a short, sour herbage, browsed upon by
_blesboks_, _wilde beests_, and several other species of antelopes.
These animals, as well as some stunted trees, at times appeared
suspended in the air, and magnified far beyond natural size.  High up in
the air could be seen the reflection of animals that were many miles
distant from the place they appeared to be occupying.  These optical
illusions were the cause of much annoyance to the thirsty travellers,--
especially to their animals, unable to understand them.  Excited with
the hope of quenching their thirst, they were with much difficulty
prevented from rushing about in pursuit of the phantom that was so
terribly tantalising them.

The cattle had been a long time without salt, and had a strong desire to
lick up the saline incrustation, that in some places covered the earth
to an eighth of an inch in thickness.  This increased their thirst, and
caused them to hasten forward to the next deceptive show that spread
itself before them.  In place of meeting water, they only found that
which strengthened the desire for it.  Our travellers seemed to have
reached a land where phantoms and realities were strangely commingled.

They saw spectral illusions of broad lakes, with trees mirrored upon
their placid surface.  A sun of dazzling brightness seemed shining from
the bottom of an unfathomed sea, and a forest appeared suspended in the
air!

But along with these fair fancies there were many unpleasant realities.
For the first two or three hours after entering amid such scenes, they
could not help feeling interested.  In time, however, the interest died
away as their vision became accustomed to the strange appearances.  One
yet awaited them, stranger and more extraordinary than any yet
witnessed.

About three hours after the sun had passed the meridian, they arrived at
a place that resembled a small island in the midst of an ocean.  Water
was rolling down upon them from every direction, and had their eyes not
been so often deceived, they could easily have imagined that the dry
earth upon which they stood was about to be instantly submerged.  While
contemplating this singular scene, their attention was called to another
no less singular.

It was that of a gigantic bird moving across the sky, not in flight, but
walking with long strides!  They might have been alarmed but for their
knowledge of what it was.

An ostrich somewhere on the karroo was being reflected by the _mirage_,
and magnified to ten times its natural size.

On a former expedition our hunters had seen much of the singular
phenomena produced by the _mirage_.  They had witnessed many, many
spectacles, but the one upon which they were now gazing excited their
admiration more than any they had ever encountered.  The reflected
ostrich was perfect in shape, and his stalk so natural that, but for
what they knew, they might have believed that something as extraordinary
as anything seen by John the Revelator had descended to the earth from
another world.  Such a sight, appearing in the sky that overhangs
Hampstead Heath, would have converted all London to a belief in the
prophecies of the Reverend Doctor Gumming.

As they stood gazing upon it, a cloud came rolling up the heavens,
carried along by a breeze that had commenced blowing from the west.  By
this the _mirage_ was destroyed, and the vast spectral image suddenly
disappeared.  The phantom shapes were seen no more; and soon after the
travellers saw before them some real ones, that led them to believe they
were approaching the limit of the karroo.

The ground was higher, more uneven, and covered by a more luxuriant
vegetation.  Water would be found at no great distance.  This fact was
deduced from the presence of some zebras and pallahs, seen feeding near,
as they knew that neither of those animals ever strays far from the
neighbourhood of a stream.

Near what may be called the border of the karroo, the hunters came
across what to them was a prize of some value.  It was an ostrich-nest,
containing seventeen fresh eggs, which afforded the raw material for an
excellent dinner.

This was soon cooked and eaten; and our travellers continued their
march.  But Swartboy had a passion either for killing ostriches, or
procuring their feathers.  Possibly the _penchant_ might have been for
both; but, be that as it may, he was unwilling to go away from the nest,
even after the eggs had been extracted from it.

Knowing that his masters intended to encamp by the first watering-place
they should meet, he determined to stay behind for an hour or two and
rejoin the travelling party in the evening; and as no one made objection
he did so.

His prejudice in favour of poisoned arrows, and against the use of
fire-arms, as weapons of offence, had been gradually removed; and he had
for some time past been induced to shoulder a double-barrelled gun
capable of carrying either bullets or shot.

With this gun the Bushman seated himself upon the edge of the ostrich's
nest, and was left in this attitude by the others as they moved away
from the spot.

Just as the sun was setting a dark grove of timber loomed up before
their eyes; and on reaching it they discovered a stream of water.  The
impatient oxen would not allow their packs to be taken off till after
they had quenched their thirst, after which they went vigorously to work
upon the rich herbage that grew upon the banks of the stream.

It was full two hours before Swartboy made his appearance by the
camp-fire.  Its light illumined a set of features expanded into an
expression that spoke of some grand satisfaction.  He had evidently
gained something by remaining behind.  Success had attended his
enterprise.  In his hands were seen the long white plumes of an
ostrich,--the trophies of his hunter skill,--that even in Africa are not
so easily obtained.  His story was soon told.

He had lain flat along the ground close by the ostrich's nest until the
birds had returned.  They had come back in company, and Swartboy had
secured them both as a reward for his watchful patience.  He had brought
the plumes with him, not as a mere evidence of his triumph, but intended
to be taken on to Graaf Reinet, and there presented to his "Totty."

The Bushman stated that he had seen a large flock of ostriches while
waiting for the two he had killed.  He had no doubt but what they could
be found on the following day; and, as it was necessary that the cattle
should have a little time to rest and recover themselves after the toils
of the karroo, an ostrich-hunt was at once agreed upon, and for that
evening ostriches became the chief topic of conversation around the
camp-fire.



CHAPTER FIFTY.

A TALK ABOUT OSTRICHES.

The Ostrich (_Struthio Camelus_) is supposed to be the Benonim, Jaanah,
and Joneh, mentioned in the Bible.  It is the _Thar Edsjanmel_ or
camel-bird of the Persians, of which everybody knows something and of
which nobody knows all.

With the general appearance of the bird, I presume that my young readers
are already acquainted, and shall therefore say little or nothing about
it.

The stumpy-footed, two-toed, long-legged, kicking creature has wings
that are apparently more useful to man than to itself.  In fact, the
possession of these apparently superfluous appendages is generally the
cause of its being hunted by man and by him destroyed.

It is one of those unfortunate creatures, persecuted to gratify the
vanity of other perhaps equally unfortunate creatures, called
fashionable ladies.  A full-grown ostrich is usually between seven and
eight feet in height, but individuals have occasionally been met with
measuring more than ten.

Its nest is merely a hole in the sand, about three feet in diameter, and
usually contains twenty eggs.  Half this number may be seen lying
outside the nest, and elsewhere scattered over the plain.  These are
supposed to be intended as food for the young when they have first
broken the shell.  This supposition, however, is not founded upon the
observation of any fact to justify a belief in it.

Job (chapter 39), speaking of the ostrich, says, she "Leaveth her eggs
in the earth, and warmeth them in the dust, and forgetteth that the foot
may crush them, or that the wild beast may break them.  She is hardened
against her young ones as though they were not hers: her labour is in
vain without fear."  This account does not altogether correspond with
modern observation.

In the heat of the day, when the eggs are under the burning sun, the
ostrich can well afford to leave them for a while and go off in quest of
food.  At night, when it is cool and the eggs need protection, the bird
is ever to be found doing its duty, and the male ostrich is often seen
in charge of the young brood, and assiduously guarding them.  At such
times, if molested, the old birds have been known to act in the same way
as the partridge or plover, by shamming lame, so as to mislead the
intruder.

From much more now known of the ostrich, it cannot be said to be wanting
in paternal or maternal instincts; and the idea of its being so has only
originated in the fact of their nests being so often found deserted
during the hot hours of the day.

The food of the ostrich generally consists of seeds and leaves of
various plants.  Owing to the nature of the dry desert soil on which it
is obtained, the only species it can procure are of a hard, dry texture;
and it is supposed to be for the purpose of assisting nature in their
digestion that the bird will swallow pebbles, pieces of iron, or other
mineral substances.  Some have been disembowelled, in whose stomachs was
found a collection so varied as to resemble a small curiosity shop or
geological museum.

Stones have been taken out of the stomach of an ostrich each weighing
more than a pound avoirdupois!

When this great bird is going at full run,--for of course it cannot
fly,--its stride is full twelve feet in length, and its rate of speed
not less than twenty-five miles to the hour.  It cannot be overtaken by
a horseman, and its capture is generally the result of some stratagem.

It always feeds on the open plain, where it can obtain an unobstructed
view, and be warned in good time of the approach of an enemy.  It
possesses a sharp vision, and from the manner its eyes are set in its
small, disproportioned head, held eight or ten feet above the surface of
the ground, it can take in the whole circle of the horizon at a glance.
On this account the utmost caution is required in approaching it.

In one respect the author of the book of Job has closely followed nature
in his description of this bird; for "God hath deprived her of wisdom,
neither hath he imparted to her understanding."

The ostrich is a stupid creature, and is often captured by taking
advantage of its stupidity.  Nature seems to have placed in its little
head the belief that in running to the leeward it will encounter some
impassable barrier, and be overtaken by whatever pursues it.
Ostrich-hunters are well acquainted with this peculiarity, and on
approaching a flock they always ride to the windward.  This manoeuvre is
observed by the birds, who believe that an attempt is being made to cut
off their retreat in the only direction in which it can be successfully
made.  They immediately start on a course which, if continued, must
cross that taken by the hunters.  Owing to the greater distance it has
to run, the latter often get near enough to bring the bird down with a
shot.  Were the silly bird to retreat in the opposite direction, it
would be perfectly safe from pursuit.

The feathers of the ostrich are beautifully adapted to the warm climate
of the desert country it inhabits.  They allow a free circulation of the
air around its skin, while giving shade to its body.  The white plumes
of the male bring the greatest price, and sometimes sell for 12 pounds
the pound, Troy weight, of only twelve ounces.  The black feathers
seldom fetch more than a fourth of the price.

Two species of ostrich are found on the great plains of South America,
and one other in Australia.  None of these attain the gigantic
proportions of the African, nor are their plumes at all comparable in
beauty or value to those of the _Struthio Camelus_.

Ostriches were once a favourite article of food with the Romans; and it
is stated that the brains of six hundred of these birds were consumed at
one feast.  The flesh is still eaten, but only by the native Africans.
The bird possesses great strength, and can run at a rapid rate with a
man mounted on its back.

It was undoubtedly designed by its Creator for some other purpose than
that of contributing to the gratification of man's vanity.

Ostriches are easily domesticated.  This is done to some extent by the
Arabians, who breed and bring them up for the sake of the feathers, as
also to procure them as an article of food.

But the more enlightened people of the present day make no other effort
to ascertain their utility, than to keep a pair or two of them shut up
in a public garden for children and their nurses to gaze at.



CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

ANOTHER DELAY.

Next morning, the hunters were early in the saddle, and off for the
karroo.  For some distance, they rode along the bank of the stream which
was fringed by a growth of willow-trees.  This course was taken to get
to windward of the ostriches, in the hope of having a shot at them as
they ran up the wind.  Had their object been to stalk any other species
of animal, they would have advanced upon it from the leeward.

Before they had gone a great way over the karroo, five huge bipeds were
seen about a mile away.  They were ostriches.  They were apparently
coming towards them with great speed, and the four hunters extended
their line to cut off an advance which the stupid bird mistakes for a
retreat.  They were moving in long rapid strides; and, as they drew
nearer, the hunters saw that, to obtain a good shot, they must gallop
farther to the north.  The birds were going in a curved line that would
carry them away from the place where the hunters expected to have met
them.  To get within sure range, these saw that they would have a sharp
ride for it, and their horses were instantly put to their full speed.

Though the ostriches appeared to be running in a straight line from the
place where they had started, such was not the case.  They were curving
around just sufficiently to avoid the hunters, and yet get to the
windward of them.  Their pace being much faster than that of the horses,
they succeeded in crossing the course pursued by the latter, about three
hundred yards in advance of them.

Willem and Hendrik hardly taking time to pull up, dismounted and fired.
But not with the desired result.  The ostriches were at too great a
distance, and ran on untouched.  Knowing that a stern chase after them
would prove a failure, the hunters came to a stop.

Several other ostriches were afterwards seen; but, as on the open
karroo, it was found impossible to approach them; and our adventurers
were compelled to return to their camp without taking back a single
feather.  Their want of success was a source of great gratification to
Swartboy.  He could kill ostriches afoot, while four white men, although
well-armed and mounted on fast horses, had failed to do so.  The Bushman
could not avoid making an exhibition of his conceit, and he proceeded to
inform his masters that if they were very anxious to obtain
ostrich-feathers, he could easily put them in the way.  As none of the
hunters were inclined to put Swartboy's abilities for ostrich-hunting to
a further test they acknowledged their defeat and resumed the
interrupted journey.

After leaving the karroo, the hunters entered into a very beautiful and
fertile country possessed by small tribes of peaceful Bechuanas, who had
long been allowed to remain undisturbed by their warlike neighbours, for
the reason that they lived at a great distance from any hostile tribe.
It was a country Willem was reluctant to pass rapidly through; for,
after leaving it behind, he knew there would be very little hope of
again seeing giraffes.

Along the way, little groves of the _cameel-doorn_ were occasionally
seen; but, for all this, no camelopards.

At a village, passed by them on the route, they were informed that
giraffes sometimes visited the neighbourhood, and that there was no time
of the year, but that, with a little trouble, some of these animals
might be found within a day's distance.

This information, Hendrik, Arend, and Hans heard rather with regret:
they knew that it was likely to cause another impediment to their
homeward journey.

In this they were not deceived.  Willem stoutly declared that he would
proceed no further for the present; at the same time, telling the others
that, if they were impatient to reach Graaf Reinet, they might go on
without him.

This, all three would willingly have done, had they dared.  But they
knew that, on reaching home, they would be unable to give any
satisfactory explanation for deserting their companion.  People would
inquire why they had not remained to assist the great hunter in his
praiseworthy enterprise.  What answer could they give?

There was both honour and profit to be derived by delivering two young
giraffes to the Dutch consul, and they would not have been unwilling to
share in both, if the thing could have been conveniently accomplished.
For all that, they would have preferred returning home without further
delay, but for the determination of Willem to remain.

The four Makololo were also a little chafed at the delay.  They were
anxious to see something of the wonders of civilisation, but their
impatience was not openly expressed.  Before setting out, they had been
instructed by Macora in all things to be guided by Willem; and they had
no intention of disobeying.

Congo was the only one who was wholly indifferent to the future.  His
home was with Groot Willem, and he seemed to have no more concern or
remembrance for Graaf Reinet than his dog Spoor'em.

Choosing a convenient place for their encampment within a few miles of
the Bechuana village, the youths resolved to stop for a while, and make
a final effort at capturing the camelopards.  Should they succeed in
finding these animals, yet fail in taking any of them alive, Groot
Willem promised that he would make no further opposition to returning
home.

As all knew that the promise would be faithfully kept, they consented to
stay for a few days without showing any signs of reluctance.

Crossing the country with a general course to the south-west, ran a
stream, along which was a belt of timber, or rather a series of
disconnected copses.  The trees were mostly mimosas.  In every copse
could be seen some trees with torn branches, and twigs cut off, an
evidence that they had been browsed upon by the camelopards; while the
spoor of these animals appeared in many places along the edge of the
stream.

As the damage done to the mimosas, and the tracks in the mud, showed
signs of having been recently made, our hunters came to the conclusion
that giraffes could not be far off.

"Something whispers me," said Willem, "that we shall succeed at last.  I
left home with the intention of never returning without two young
giraffes; and I have not yet relinquished the hope of seeing Graaf
Reinet again.  We will make no more pits; but let me once more set my
eyes on a giraffe and, mark me, it is mine, if I have to run it down and
capture it with my own hands."

"That is not possible," remarked Hendrik.  "True, you might catch a wild
elephant; but what would you do with it? or, rather, what would it do
with you?"

"That question I shall take into serious consideration after I've caught
my giraffe," answered Willem.  "I can only say now, that, if I meet with
one, I'm not going to part with it alive,--not if I have to exchange my
horse for it."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three days were passed in riding about the country; and, during that
time, the hunters saw not a single giraffe.  In this respect, they were
more unfortunate than Swartboy and the Makololo, who remained at the
camp.  On the evening of the third day which the hunters had spent in
beating some groves up the river, Swartboy reported, on their return,
that two giraffes had passed within sight of the camp.  He described
them as an aged couple that had, no doubt, been often hunted.  To these
ancient inhabitants of the mimosa forest, the Bushman ascribed the spoor
and other signs of giraffes that had been seen.  He had compared the
tracks of the animals that trotted past the camp, with those on the
banks of the stream, and he pronounced both to have been made by the
same feet.

Swartboy further informed his young masters that he could have captured
the two animals he had seen, but did not, because they were old, and not
worth the trouble.

If Hendrik, Arend, and Hans were inclined to place but little reliance
on this boast of the Bushman, they gave to the rest of his story more
than a fair share of credence.  To them it was positive evidence that
any longer stay in the neighbourhood would be simply a waste of time.

Willem saw that they were once more inclined on defeating his plans, but
it only strengthened him in the resolution to continue a little longer
in the place.

Each of the four had a cherished project he was anxious to see
fulfilled.  Willem's wish was to obtain two young giraffes; and his
three companions found that there was no chance of his relinquishing his
design,--at least, not for many days.

Two more were passed upon the spot, and then our young adventurers, who,
although young in years, were old in friendship, came very near parting
company.  At this crisis, a spectacle was presented to their eyes that
had the happy effect of once more uniting them for a common purpose.



CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.

A HOPELESS CHASE.

While the hunters were at breakfast, they were startled by the dull,
heavy sound of footfalls, and the yelping of wild dogs.  A quarter of a
mile to the eastward they saw approaching them a large drove of
springboks, accompanied by a band of giraffes.  More than a hundred of
the antelopes, and between twenty and thirty camelopards were flying
before a few _wilde honden_.

The wild hounds of South Africa hunt in packs, and proceed upon a
well-organised plan.  The whole pack is never engaged in running upon
the view.  Some remain in reserve, and, guided by the voices of those
that are running, frequently save space by cutting off angles.  This
they can do whenever the chase is not made in a straight line.

In this manner they relieve each other, and the pursuit is continued
until the game becomes exhausted and is easily overtaken.

The perseverance, energy, and cunning displayed by these animals is
something wonderful.

They do not commence a hunt until driven to it by hunger, and then it is
often carried on for many hours, their tenacity of purpose being shown
by their continuing the chase till their victim falls down before them.
They were in full run after the springboks, and one of those animals was
sure to reward their skill and labour by affording them a dinner.

The giraffes were foolish enough to think, or act, as though the _wilde
honden_ were hunting them; and in place of remaining still and
permitting the dogs to pass, or turning to one side, the foolish
creatures ran on with the springboks.  At the time they came up with the
hunters, they were already exhibiting signs of distress.  To Groot
Willem it was a gratifying sight.  A herd of giraffes was at hand.  Some
of them were evidently young ones.  Three of them he observed were
apparently but a few weeks old.  The very things for which he had
travelled so far were now before his eyes, apparently coming to deliver
themselves up.

It was not until the springboks swerved to the right to avoid the
horsemen, that these little animals became separated from the giraffes.
The latter continued on along the edge of the stream, while the former,
pursued by the wild dogs, made off towards some hills to the north.

The speed of the camelopard is not quite equal to that of a horse, and
the hunters knew that the desired objects could be overtaken; but what
then?  The giraffes might be shot down, but how were they to be taken
alive?

There was no time for reflection.  The necessity of commencing the
chase, and the excitement of following it up, occupied all the time of
the hunters.

After a sharp run of about two miles, the camelopards began to show
further signs of distress.  Already exhausted by their flight before the
hounds, and now pursued by fresh horses, their utmost efforts did not
save them from being overtaken; after a two-mile chase our hunters were
riding upon their heels.

A portion of the herd, becoming separated from the rest turned away from
the bank of the stream.  There were but three who went thus,--a male and
female followed by a young one,--a beautiful creature.  Groot Willem
gazed longingly upon it as he galloped by its side, and became nearly
mad with the desire to secure it.  The pace of the three had now been
changed from a gallop to a trot, in which their feet were lifted but a
few inches from the ground, and drawn forward in an awkward shambling
manner, that proved them exhausted with their long run.  Still, they ran
on at a pace that kept Willem's horse at a sharp canter.

In a short time he had got out of sight both of the main herd and his
comrades.  Nothing could be seen of either.  He might have reflected
that there was some risk of losing himself; but he did not.  All his
thoughts were given to the capture of the young giraffe.

Slower and more slow became the pace both of pursuer and pursued, the
horse streaming with sweat, and nearly ready to drop in his tracks.

"Why should I follow them farther?" thought Willem.  "Why should I kill
my horse for the sake of gazing a little longer on a creature I cannot
take?"

Though conscious of the folly he was committing, Willem could not bring
himself to abandon the chase.

By his side trotted the young giraffe, beautiful in colour, graceful in
form, and to his mind priceless in value.  But how was it to become his?
The coveted prize, although apparently but a few weeks old, and nearly
exhausted by its long race, was still able to defy any efforts he might
make to check its laboured flight.

He was now more than a mile from the river, and his horse was tottering
under him, nearly exhausted by its long exertions.  What should he do?

Stop, give his horse a rest, and then return to his companions.  This
was the command of common sense; but he was not guided by that.  For the
time, he was insane with excitement, anxiety, and despair.  He was mad,
and acted like a madman.  The hopes and aspirations he had been for
months indulging in were concentrated into the hour; and in that hour he
could not yield them up.  He was too much exasperated to reason calmly
or clearly.  A little extra exertion on the part of his horse might
place him in advance of the three giraffes; and he might drive them back
to the river.

"Yes," exclaimed he, nearly frantic with the fear of losing what seemed
so nearly gained.

"If I cannot catch this young giraffe, I can drive it.  I'll drive it to
Graaf Reinet.  It shall not escape me!"

Plunging his spurs into the foam-covered flanks of his horse, he sprang
forward in advance of the three giraffes; and as he expected, they came
to a halt.  Pulling up, he wheeled round facing them, while the two old
giraffes turned at the same time and made off in the back direction.

As they did so, one of them came in contact with the tottering calf,
that for a second or so, seemed to become entangled between its legs;
and at their separation, the young one staggered a pace or two and fell
heavily upon the earth.



CHAPTER FIFTY THREE.

A WEARY WATCH.

Throwing himself out of his saddle, Willem seized the fallen creature,
and hindered it from rising, by keeping its head close pressed against
the ground.  This was easily done, for the long slender neck of the
animal, without much muscular strength, gave him a good chance of
holding it down.  The weight of the huge hunter's body was sufficient
for that, without any exertion of his strength.

Meanwhile the old ones continued their flight, while Willem's horse,
relieved of his load, proceeded to refresh himself by browsing upon the
dry herbage that grew near.  Willem had obtained what he wanted, a young
giraffe.  It was actually in his possession.  He was holding it under
perfect control, and yet it appeared to him that he was as far as ever
from the realisation of his hopes!  Now that he had got the giraffe, all
that he could do was to keep it on the spot where it had fallen.  The
instant its head might be released from his hold it would spring to its
feet again and escape in spite of all his efforts to retain it.

He could not allow it to go thus.  He had hoped too wildly, travelled
too far, and waited too long, for that.  The fear that he would still
have to surrender his prize or destroy it, was to him a painful thought,
and it was only relieved by the hope that in time he might be joined by
his companions.  They might discover the spoor of his horse, and come to
him.  In that case there would be no difficulty.  The giraffe could then
be secured with rheims and become their travelling companion for the
rest of the journey to Graaf Reinet.  About their coming there was much
uncertainty,--at least, their coming in time.  They would wait for his
return perhaps, until the next morning, before starting out in search of
him.

Before their arrival, the young giraffe would kill itself with the
violent exertions it still continued to make.  It was kicking and
struggling as if it wanted to leap out of its skin.  Such terrible
throes could not fail to injure it.  Willem was himself suffering from
thirst.  A long afternoon was before him.  It would be followed by a
long night,--one in which the lion, that prowling tyrant of the African
plains, would be seeking his supper.

Would the hunter be allowed to retain possession of his prize?  His
steed, the faithful creature that had carried him through so many
perils, was wandering away from his sight.  The horse, too, might stray
beyond the chance of being found again.  He might be devoured by wild
beasts.  The horse could still be recovered.  Would it not be better to
abandon the giraffe and endeavour to get back to his companions?  By
remaining where he was, he might lose all three,--his horse, his prize,
and his own life.  What was best to be done?  The young hunter was never
more perplexed in his life.  He was in an agony of doubt and
uncertainty.  Streams of perspiration were pouring down his cheeks, and
his throat felt as if on fire.  Slowly he saw the horse strolling away,
until he was almost beyond the reach of his vision, and yet could not
bring himself to a determination as to what should be done.  He had
travelled fifteen hundred miles to capture two such creatures as the one
now underneath him.  He had seized upon one, and, if his companions had
done their duty, they might have taken another.  This thought counselled
him to hold on to the captured giraffe; and he saw the horse disappear
over a swell of the plain, just as the sun sunk down below the horizon.

For a long time, the giraffe struggled wildly to release itself.  Then
it remained quiet for a while, not as if it had given up the intention
to escape, but as if reflecting on some plan to free itself.  Again it
would recommence its struggles, and again rest awhile, as though
gathering strength for a fresh effort.  Gradually it grew resigned to
its position, and seemed to breath more tranquilly, while its exertions
were less frequent and more feeble.  It had learnt that it could remain
in the presence of man without meeting death.  It had become familiar
with his company, and conscious of its own inability to part from it,
while man opposed its efforts.

Night came down and found Willem still seated by the side of the
giraffe, with his arms around its neck.  He had the satisfaction of
thinking that his companions would now be uneasy at his absence.  He
felt sure that within a few hours Congo and Spoor'em would be upon his
track, with the others following; and, when all should arrive, the young
giraffe would be secured.  The prospect of such a termination to his
adventure did much to make him disregard the agony he was enduring.  He
soon discovered he was not to be left alone in his vigil; nor was his
right to the prize to be left undisputed.

His first visitors were hyenas; but their laughter--apparently put forth
at seeing him in his ludicrous position--did not induce him to abandon
it; and the fierce brutes circled around him, smiling and showing their
teeth to no purpose.  They were too cowardly to attempt an attack; and
their efforts to frighten him were more amusing than otherwise.

Soon after sunset the night became very dark,--so dark that although the
hyenas approached within a few paces, nothing could be seen of them
except their shining eyes.  It was just such a night as lions select for
going in search of prey,--so dark that the king of beasts can move about
unseen, and, while thus protected by invisibility, will pounce upon a
man with as much confidence as he will upon a springbok.

As Willem was trying to while away the time by hopeful thoughts, the air
was shaken around him, by a voice which he knew to be the roar of the
lion.  One was abroad seeking blood.

The clouds that had been for some time rolling up from the south-west
became blacker at the instant, and seemed separated by streams of fire,
while the low murmurings of distant thunder could be heard far-off in
the sky.  They were signs that could not be mistaken.  A tropical storm
was approaching.

The voice of the lion told that he was doing the same.  Every moment it
could be heard, nearer, and more intensely terrifying.

Which of them would come first,--the storm or the beast of prey?  It
seemed a question between them.  Already heavy rain-drops were plashing
around him.  Thirsting as he was, this would have been a welcome sound,
but for that other that proceeded from the throat of the lion.

The hunter's familiarity with the habits of the great cat gave him a
good idea of how he might expect the latter to approach him.  There
would be a simultaneous bound and roar, followed by the mangling of a
body and the crunching of bones, which he could hardly doubt would be
his own.

Willem was not often tortured with fear, though at that moment he was
not free from apprehension.  Still, he awaited the event with calmness.

Most people, when frightened, feel an irresistible desire to make a
sudden departure from the place where they have been seized with the
malady; but this was not the case with Groot Willem.  He had the sense
to know that by making a move he might run into the jaws of the very
danger he wished to avoid; for the roar of the lion gives no guide to
the direction the animal may be in.  Besides, he was not yet so badly
scared as to think of abandoning the prize he had taken such trouble to
retain.

The rain now came down, and for some time continued to fall in torrents.
Brief periods of darkness were followed by gleams of electric light,
dazzling in its brilliancy.

In a few minutes the fiercest of the storm appeared to be over, and
then, as a wind-up to it, there came a long continued blaze of
lightning, more brilliant than ever, and a peal of thunder louder than
any that had preceded it.

By that flash Willem was nearly blinded.  The electric shock seemed to
strike every nerve in his body, and, had he been standing erect, he
certainly would have fallen to the ground.  The instant after, so
intensely black was all around that he might well have thought for a
moment or two that the flash had destroyed his power of vision; but
there was another thought on his mind more terrible than this.

When the heavens and earth were illumed by that flash, he had obtained a
momentary glimpse of an object that drove from his mind every thought
but that of immediate death.  There was a lion within ten feet of him,
just crouching for a spring!  Willem would have rushed out of the way,
and, abandoning the giraffe, have fled far from the spot.  This was his
first instinct, but unfortunately he was unable to yield to it.
Prostrated, body and soul, by the electric fluid, that had struck the
earth within a few feet of him, for a time he was unable to stir.

The first distinct thought that came into his mind was astonishment at
finding the minute after that the claws of the lion were not buried in
his flesh!  The blow that had stunned him was not from the paw of the
lion, but the lightning.  It had saved his life, as the king of beasts,
scorched and terrified by the shock, had retreated on the same instant.

The storm soon passed over, and a small patch of clear sky appeared
opening up on the western horizon.  It was soon after occupied by the
disk of a silvery moon, under whose soft light Willem continued his
vigil, without further molestation from either lion or hyenas.

The giraffe was still alive and lying quietly upon the ground; but, from
its long and laboured respiration, Willem began to fear that it might
die before he would have the chance to release it from the irksome
attitude in which he felt bound to retain it.



CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR.

CHANCE BETTER THAN SKILL.

The camelopards followed by Hans, Hendrik, and Arend had continued up
the bank of the stream; and, being the main body of the herd, were
pursued without the hunters having noticed the defection of Willem.

With such noble game in view, and in hot pursuit of it, these three
youths were as much excited as Groot Willem himself.  Full of ardour
they pressed on.  Their horses were spurred to such a speed as soon
brought them close upon the heels of the flying game.

It was only then that Willem was observed to have parted from them.  He
was seen half a mile off, and fast increasing the distance.  He was
heading northward.

This discovery scarce caused them a thought.  Each was too much
interested in his own chase to think of the others.

They soon closed in upon the giraffes, that had been driven into a sharp
bend of the river.

The hunted animals, on perceiving the obstruction, turned back, but
found their retreat cut off.  The pursuers were coming on behind them.

Arend, who was to the right of the others, was just in time to prevent
the giraffes from escaping with dry hoofs, by riding rapidly in advance
of his companions.

The herd was again headed towards the river.

In forcing them round, Arend was placed within a few yards of the
largest.  The instinctive desire to bring down such a grand creature
could not be resisted, and, without bringing his horse to a stand, he
placed the barrel of his rifle on a line with the camelopard's head and
fired.  Skill or chance favoured him, and the giraffe dropped to the
shot.

Though a gigantic creature, standing sixteen feet in height the one
small bullet, scarce bigger than a pea, was all that was necessary to
bring its towering form to the earth.  It had been hit on the side of
the head, just behind the eye; and, as it received the shot, it raised
its fore feet from the ground, spun around as on a pivot, and then fell
heavily on its side.  As though desirous of putting a period to its
sufferings as soon as possible, as soon as it was down it commenced
beating the ground violently with its shattered head.

The remaining giraffes were driven on toward the stream, where, seeing
no other way of avoiding the enemy that pursued them, they plunged into
the water.

The stream was neither broad nor deep, yet was it one that could not be
conveniently crossed at that particular spot.  The bank on both sides
rose several feet above the water; and, from the way in which the
animals were wading across, it was evident they were going upon a soft
bottom.  Not until several of them had reached the opposite shore and
made an ineffectual attempt to get out of the channel, did our hunters
have any hope of capturing one of the young giraffes.  Hitherto they had
not thought of being able to take them alive.  They had entered upon the
chase solely for its excitement, and for the destroying of animal life;
but on seeing the camelopards struggling in the stream, they became
animated with the same hope that was inspiring Groot Willem about the
same time, but on a far distant part of the plain.

"They can't get up the bank," shouted Hendrik, "and there are two young
ones among them.  Let us try to get hold of them."

To carry out Hendrik's proposal, but little time was lost in arranging a
plan.  It was instantly decided that they should separate, and one try
to reach the other side of the stream.

This task was assigned to Hendrik.  Riding beyond the bend of the river,
he reached a place where the bank was shelving and, dashing in, he soon
gained the opposite shore.

A part of the equipment of each horse ridden by the hunters was a long
rheim made of buffalo hide, and used for the purpose of tethering their
animals when upon the grass.  At one end of the rheim Hendrik had a
loop, such as is used in the lazos of Spanish America.  This was the
means he intended to make use of for capturing the young giraffes.

On riding opposite to them he found them still in the water.  Wearied by
their late run, they were standing quietly, apparently too much
exhausted to raise their feet out of the soft ooze in which they were
sinking deeper and deeper.  Two or three of the stronger ones alone
continued their struggle to gain the shore, though not one of the drove
seemed to think of making escape by moving up or down the stream.  They
were deterred from this by the presence of Hans and Arend, who had
placed themselves on projecting points of the bank, above and below.
The appearance of Hendrik directly in front of them caused a change in
their attitude.  Led by a large male, they commenced plunging about as
if determined to make a break up stream.  But Arend, who was in that
quarter, had only a few paces to go before again appearing to be
directly ahead of them, and this brought them a second time to a stand.
After a short pause and a good deal of violent plunging, they now turned
down stream, in hopes of escaping that way.  So sharp was the bend of
the river, that Hans, who guarded there, was able to show himself, as if
right in front of them, and by loud shouts he once more brought them to
bay.  As a further encouragement to the hunters to continue the attempt
at capturing the young giraffes, they noticed that these made but slight
efforts to escape.  The mud at the bottom was too tough for the strength
of their slender limbs.  In the narrow stream they were unable to get
out of reach of the rheims, which all three of the hunters had now
detached from their saddles, and were looking out for an opportunity to
use.

In their efforts to avoid their enemies, the frightened camelopards now
rushed to and fro, wearily dragging their feet from the mud, until they
were hardly able to move.  Hendrik, who was nearest, after two or three
ineffectual trials, at length succeeded in throwing his snare over the
head of one of the young ones.  As soon as he had done so, he leaped out
of his saddle, and made fast the other end of his rheim to a tree.
There was no chance for the giraffe to break away after that.  However
strong it might be in the body, its long slender neck was too feeble to
aid it in a violent effort; and it soon submitted to its confinement.

"Try and catch the other," exclaimed Hendrik to his companions, pointing
to the second of the young giraffes.  "Make haste, and you will have it.
See! it's stuck in the mud.  Quick with your rheim, Hans, quick!"

In a second or two, Hans, obeying the call, succeeded in throwing his
snare, and the second of the young giraffes became a captive.

As this was all that was wanted, the rest of the herd received no
further attention,--the hunters being wholly occupied with the two they
had taken.

Left free, the crowd of camelopards once more made a break to get off
down stream.  In their struggles to escape, one of the young--that
captured by Hendrik--was borne down and trampled under the water.

It was not carried off.  The rope still retained it; but, although it
remained in the hands of its captors, it was only in the shape of a
carcass.  It was partly drowned by its head being carried under water,
and partly choked by the noose having tightened around its neck.

As soon as the herd had gone off, the three hunters turned their
attention to the captive that was still alive.  It was at first fairly
secured, so as to prevent the noose from slipping, and then carefully
led out of the stream.

For some time it struggled to get free, but, as if convinced that its
efforts would be idle, it soon desisted.

Exhausted with the long race, as well as by its subsequent exertions in
the water, it was the more easily subdued.

Our three hunters were in ecstasies.  They had now obtained one young
giraffe, and there was a possibility of their yet procuring another.
The feat of capturing these creatures, that had baffled so many hunters,
was proved not to be impossible.  After all, Groot Willem had not been
like a child crying for the moon.  He had hoped for nothing more than
might be accomplished.  The welfare of their captive was now their
greatest care; and, to give it an opportunity of recovering from its
fright, as also to get it a little better acquainted with its new
companions, they resolved to allow it an hour's rest before returning to
the camp.

The young giraffe was too much exhausted to make any further effort at
freeing itself.

With the mild and gentle character of the camel, and nothing of the
leopard in its nature, the giraffe soon becomes resigned to captivity.



CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.

A REVERSE OF FORTUNE.

Having given their captive the desired rest, during which it had
displayed its good sense by remaining most of the time in quiet, the
hunters prepared to drive it to their camp.

Mounted on their horses, Arend and Hans each took the end of a rheim,
which was fastened midway to its neck.  They intended to ride a little
in advance of the captive, keeping also some distance apart from each
other.  This would hinder it from turning either to the right or left.
Hendrik was to come on behind and urge the creature forward, should it
show a disposition to try the strength of its neck by hanging back upon
the rheims.

This plan worked extremely well.  The young captive was compelled to
follow the two horsemen in an undeviating line; and every attempt made
to remain stationary or go backwards was rewarded by a blow from
Hendrik's jambok.  Then the strain on the ropes would instantly be
relieved by the animal springing forward.  In this manner the creature
was conducted along without the slightest trouble; and near the middle
of the afternoon, they reached the place from whence they had started
out on the hunt.

On the ground they discovered their pack-saddles, cooking utensils, and
other impedimenta, but nothing was seen of Congo, Swartboy, the four
Makololo, or the cattle!  All were away!  Moreover, they had hopes of
meeting Groot Willem on their return, and were anticipating great
pleasure from the encounter.  They knew how rejoiced he would be at
their success.  But where were the camp followers?  Where were Swartboy
and Congo?

There was a mystery in their absence that none of the three hunters
could solve.

Why had the property been left exposed by those placed in charge of it?
Could the Makololo have robbed them of their cattle?  Had Congo and
Swartboy proved traitors?  This was very improbable.  But why were they
not there?

For some time our adventurers could do nothing but wait, in the hope
that time would explain all, and bring the absentees back.

Not an ox, horse, or dog was to be seen.  The bundles of ivory,
enveloped in grass matting, were lying where they had been left in the
morning.  If a robbery had been committed, why was this valuable
property left untouched?

As no one could make answer, the solution had to be left to time.

Evening came on, and the three hunters were still distracted by
conflicting hopes, fears, and doubts.  The prolonged absence of Willem
now began to cause them a serious apprehension.  It was time something
should be done towards finding him; but what were they to do?  Where
should they seek?  They knew not; still, they should go somewhere.

As night approached, leaving Hans to take care of the young giraffe,
Arend and Hendrik started off in the direction in which Willem had last
been seen.

The twilight was fast disappearing before they had proceeded a mile from
the camp, but under its dim light they perceived Congo and Swartboy
coming towards them.  They were only accompanied by the dogs.

The two hunters hastened forward, and soon came up with them.  Hendrik
commenced hastily questioning the Bushman, while Arend did the same to
the Kaffir, in the endeavour to get some information of what had so much
mystified them.

The questions "Where is Willem?"  "Where are the cattle?"  "Why did you
leave the camp?"  "Where are the Makololo?" were asked in rapid
succession, and to all they received but one answer,--the word "Yaas."

"Will you not tell me, you yellow demon?" shouted Hendrik, impatient at
not getting the answer he wished.

"Yaas, baas Hendrik," answered Swartboy; "what you want to know first?"

"Where is Willem?"

This was a question that, in the Bushman's way of thinking, required
some consideration before he could venture on a reply; but while he was
hesitating, Congo answered, "We don't know."

"Ha, ha!  Congo is a fool," exclaimed Swartboy.  "We saw baas Willem
going away this morning with the ress of you, after the tootlas."

It was not until the youths were driven nearly wild with impatience that
they succeeded in learning what they wished.  Willem had not returned,
and the two Africans knew less about the cause of his absence than they
did themselves.  During the day, the cattle, in feeding, had strayed to
some distance over the plain.  The four Makololo had gone after them,
and had not returned.  Swartboy and Congo admitted that they had slept
awhile in the afternoon, and only on awaking had discovered that the
cattle and Makololo were missing.  They had then started out in search
of both.  They had found the ambassadors of Macora in great trouble.  A
party of Bechuanas had chanced upon them, and taken from them the whole
of the cattle!

The Makololo were in great distress about the affair, and, fearing they
would be blamed for the loss of the cattle, were afraid to return to the
camp of the hunters.  They were then halted about two miles down the
river, and were talking of going back to their home, quite certain that
the white hunters would have nothing more to do with them.

The folly of having left their property unprotected, when in the
neighbourhood of African tribes whose honesty could not be relied on,
now, for the first time, occurred to our adventurers.

The Bechuanas, who will steal from each other, or from the people of any
nation, in all probability would not have taken the cattle, had one of
the whites been present to claim ownership in them.

The Bechuana robbers had found them in the possession of only four
strange men, Africans, who belonged far north, and had no right to be
within Bechuana territory.  The opportunity was too good to be lost,
and, so tempted, they had driven the animals away.

There could be no help for what had happened,--at all events, not for
the present.  To discover the whereabouts of Willem was the care that
was most pressing, and they one more proceeded in search of him.

As the night had now come on they could have done nothing of themselves,
but the presence of Congo, accompanied by his hound Spoor'em, inspired
them with fresh hope, and they proceeded onward.

After a time it became so dark that Arend proposed a halt until morning.
To this Hendrik objected, Congo taking sides with him.

"Do you remember the night you were under the baobab-tree, dodging the
borele?" asked Hendrik.

"Say no more," answered Arend.  "If you wish it I am willing to go on."

Swartboy was sent back to the camp to join Hans, while the Kaffir and
Spoor'em led the way.  Under the direction of Hendrik they soon came to
the place where Willem had been last seen.  There were no signs of him
anywhere.

The joy with which they had returned to their camp had now departed.
Something unusual had happened to their companion,--something
disastrous.  Their cattle and pack-horses were lost, driven away they
knew not whither, by a tribe that might be able to retain them, even
should they be found.

Under these circumstances what cared they any longer for the captured
giraffe.

Such were the reveries of Hendrik and Arend as they followed their
Kaffir guide through the gloom of the night.



CHAPTER FIFTY SIX.

THE SEARCH FOR WILLEM.

To all appearance, Congo had some secret method of communicating to the
dog Spoor'em what was required of him.  The animal ran to the right and
left, keeping a little in the advance, and with its muzzle close down to
the surface, as if searching for a spoor.  Most of the time it was out
of sight, hidden by the darkness, but every now and then it would flit
like a shadow across their track, and they could hear an occasional
sniff as it lifted the scent from the ground.

They had not proceeded more than half a mile in this manner when
Spoor'em expressed a more decided opinion of something that interested
him, by giving utterance to a short, sharp bark.

"He's found the spoor," exclaimed Congo, hastening forward.  "I told um
do that, and I knowed he would."

They were all soon up with the dog, which kept moving forward at a slow
trot, occasionally lowering its snout to the grass, as though to make
sure against going astray.  Unlike most other hounds, Spoor'em would
follow a track without rushing forward on the scent, and leaving the
hunters behind.

Arend and Hendrik knew this, though still uncertain about being on the
traces of Groot Willem.

The night was so dark they could not distinguish footmarks, and they had
not the slightest evidence of their own for believing that they were on
the tracks of Willem's horse.

"How do you know that we are going right, Cong?" asked Hendrik.

"We follow Spoor'em; he know it," answered the Kaffir.  "He find
anything that go over the grass."

"But can you be sure that he is following the spoor of Willem's horse?"

"Yaas, Master Hendrik, very sure of it.  Spoor'em is no fool.  He knows
well what we want."

With blind confidence in the sagacity both of the Kaffir and his dog,
the two hunters rode on at a gentle trot, taking more than an hour to
travel the same distance that Willem had gone over in a few minutes.

There was a prospect that the trail they were following might conduct
them back to the camp, and that there would be found the man they were
in search of.  Willem would be certain not to return over the same
ground where he had pursued the giraffes, and they might be spending the
night upon his tracks, while he was waiting for them at the camp.

This thought suggested a return.

Another consideration might have counselled them to it.  A thunder-storm
was threatening, and the difficulties of their search would be greatly
increased.

But all inclinations to go back were subdued by the reflection that
possibly Willem might be in danger, and in need of their assistance, and
with this thought they determined to go on.

The dog was now urged forward at a greater speed.  The storm was rapidly
approaching; and they knew that, after the ground had been saturated by
a fall of rain, the scent would be less easily taken up, and their
tracking might be brought to an end.

The elements soon after opened upon them, but still they kept on in the
midst of the pelting rain, consoling themselves for what was
disagreeable, by the reflection that they were performing their duty to
their lost friend.

It was not until the thunder-shower had passed over, that Spoor'em began
to show some doubt as to the course he was pursuing.  The heavy rain had
not only destroyed the scent but the traces of the footmarks, and the
dog was no longer able to make them out.  For the last half hour, they
had been moving through an atmosphere dark as Erebus itself.  They had
been unable to see each other, except when the universe seemed illumed
by the flashes of lightning.

The night had now become clear.  The moon had made her appearance in the
western sky; and the search might have been continued with less
difficulty than before, but for the obliteration of the spoor.  The dog
seemed bewildered, and ran about in short broken circles, as though
quite frantic at the thought of having lost the use of the most
important of his senses.

"We shall have to return at last," said Hendrik, despairingly.  "We can
do nothing more to-night."

They were about to act according to this advice, when the loud roar of a
lion was heard some half mile off, and in the direction from which they
had just ridden.  In going back that way they might encounter the fierce
creature.

"I have kept the lock of my rifle as dry as possible," said Arend, "but
it may not be safe to trust it.  I think I shall reload."

Drawing the rifle out of the piece of leopard skin with which the lock
had been covered, Arend pointed the muzzle upwards and pulled trigger.
The gun went off.

As the report fainted away in the distance, the far-off sound of a human
voice could be heard as if shouted back in answer to the shot.  What
they heard was the word "Hilloo."

They hastened in the direction from whence the sound seemed to proceed.
Even the dog appeared suddenly relieved from its perplexity, and led the
way.  In less than ten minutes they were standing around Willem,
delighted at finding him in safety, and in the possession of a live
giraffe.

"How long have you been here?" asked Hendrik, after the first moments of
their joyful greeting had passed.

"Ever since noon," was Willem's reply.

"And how much longer would you have stayed, had we not found you?"

"Until either this giraffe or I should have died," answered Willem.  "I
should not have abandoned it before."

"But supposing you had died first, how would it have been then?" asked
Arend.

"No doubt," replied Willem, "something would very soon have taken me
away.  But why don't you take my place here, one of you?  I must stretch
my legs, or I shall never be able to stand upright again."

Hendrik placed his hands on the head of the giraffe, and Willem with
some difficulty arose, and, after walking around the prostrate animal,
declared that he had never been happy until that moment.

It was decided that they should not attempt to stir from the place until
morning; and the rest of the night, with the exception of an hour or two
devoted to sleep, was passed in asking questions and giving
explanations.  Willem was a little woeful about the loss of his
riding-horse, and also on learning of the robbery of the cattle; but
these misfortunes could not entirely counteract the joy he felt at
having taken the young giraffe.

"This creature is quite tame now," said he; "and if I cannot find my
horse again, I shall ride it to Graaf Reinet.  Before I do that,
however, I shall use it in catching another.  I must and shall have two,
and we can easily find another chance.  You and Hans ought to be ashamed
of yourselves.  The three of you have not done so well as I.  You have
allowed two or more young giraffes to escape, while I, single-handed,
captured all the young that were in the herd I followed."

Arend and Hendrik glanced significantly at one another while Congo
stared at both of them.  A shake of the head given by Hendrik was
understood by the two who were in the secret, for Congo had been told of
the capture of the second giraffe, and of course not a word was said to
Willem of that affair.  His companions preferred giving him a surprise.



CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN.

AN ENCOUNTER BETWEEN OLD ACQUAINTANCES.

When morning dawned, the first thought of the hunters was to contrive
some plan for getting the young giraffe to the camp.

Willem expressed surprise at his companions having come out without
their rheims.  The reason given by Hendrik for their having done so was
that they did not think they would require them; besides, they had left
the camp in a hurry.

They did not anticipate much difficulty in taking back the giraffe.  It
appeared so weak and submissive that their only fear was of its not
being able to make the journey.

For all that, without ropes or lines to lead it, there might be
difficulty enough.  It might take a notion to resist, or get clear out
of their clutches.

"I must have a line of some kind," said Willem, "even if I have to cut a
thong from the hide of one of your horses.  I have been standing, or
rather sitting, sentry over this creature too long, and have travelled
too far for the sake of finding it, to allow any chance of its escaping
now.  It is but half what we want; and if any of you had been worthy the
name of hunter, you would have taken the other half."

A few hundred yards from the spot grew a copse of young trees,--slender
saplings they were, forming a miniature forest, such as one would like
to see when in search of a fishing-rod.

Going to this grove, Willem selected out of it two long poles, each
having a fork at the end.

One of these was placed on each side of the captive giraffe, in such a
manner that the forked ends embraced its neck, and when so tied, by
twisting the twigs together, formed a sort of neck halter.

By this means the creature could be led along, one going on each side of
it.

Arend grasped the end of one of the poles and Hendrik the other.

So long had the young camelopard been kept in a prostrate position, that
it was with some difficulty it managed to get to its feet; and, after
doing so, its efforts to escape were feeble, and easily defeated.

At each attempt to turn to one side, its head was instantly hauled to
the other, and it soon discovered that it was no less a captive on its
feet than when fast confined in the recumbent attitude.

Finding its struggles ineffectual, it soon discontinued them, and
resigned itself to the will of its captors.

Mounting their horses, Arend and Hendrik held the poles by which the
giraffe was to be guided, while Willem and Congo walked on behind.  In
this manner the captive was conducted towards the camp.

More than once during their journey Willem reiterated the reproach
already made to his companions.  If they had only shown as much energy
and determination as he had done, they might now have been ready to take
the road for Graaf Reinet, with a triumphant prospect before them.

"I would have followed this giraffe," said he, "until my horse dropped
dead, and then I would have followed it on foot until it became mine.  I
had determined not to be defeated and survive the defeat.  Ah! had any
of you three shown a particle of the same resolution, we might have
abandoned our cattle with pleasure, and started on a straight line for
home by daybreak to-morrow morning."

Arend and Hendrik allowed the elated hunter to continue his reproaches
uninterrupted.  They were quite satisfied with their own conduct; and
each had the delicacy to refrain from telling Willem, that, without
their assistance, his capture of the young giraffe would only have
resulted in the misfortune of losing his horse, and suffering many other
inconveniences.

They knew that Willem, when free from the intoxication caused by the
partial fulfilment of a long-cherished design, would not claim any
greater share in the credit of the expedition than he was really
entitled to.  Moreover, his joy at having captured the giraffe was
somewhat damped by the fear that his horse had gone off for good.

He was confident that, should he again get possession of him, another
giraffe could be taken.  With the herd that had been hunted, he had seen
two other young ones.  They might be found a second time; but there
would be a difficulty in running them down, unless he was once more on
the back of his tried steed.

By noon the camp was reached, when about the first thing that came under
the eyes of Groot Willem was a young giraffe standing tied to a tree!
Beside it was his own horse!

The horse had been brought back by the Makololo, who found him straying
over the plain as they were themselves returning to the camp.  The
presence both of the horse and the Makololo was at once explained.
Their original intention to visit the country of the white men had been
abandoned by them on account of the loss of their cattle.  Without
these, they had no means of making the long journey that still lay
before them.  There seemed nothing for them but to go back to their home
to Macora.  But they were unwilling to set off without taking leave of
their late travelling-companions; and, as they were at the same time
afraid of being blamed for the loss of the white hunters' cattle, as
well as their own, they passed the night in great distress, uncertain as
to what they should do.  Just as morning dawned, they descried Willem's
horse grazing close to the spot where they were encamped.  They had last
seen the great hunter on this horse's back, going in pursuit of the
giraffes; and they were anxious to learn why the animal was now
separated from its rider.  They knew that it was greatly prized by its
owner, and they believed that, by taking it back to him, they would be
forgiven for their neglect.

In this, they were not mistaken.  About the other animal--the young
giraffe that stood tied to a tree--Groot Willem neither asked nor
received any explanation.  He held his tongue about that.  He had been
over thirty hours without tasting food, and now without uttering another
word, he set to work upon a dinner that Swartboy had cooked for him,
and, after showing that his discomfiture had not robbed him of his
appetite, he stretched himself along the grass and fell into a sound
sleep.

The hunters had now but one more task to perform before taking the
direct route towards Graaf Reinet.  They must make an effort to recover
the horses and cattle of which they had been despoiled.  The sooner this
work should be commenced, the better the prospect of success; but Groot
Willem, on being awakened and consulted, declared that he would do
nothing but sleep for the next twelve hours; and, saying this, he once
more sank into a snoring slumber.  As the others could take no important
step without him, they were compelled to leave the matter over, till
such time as the great hunter should awake, which was not before
breakfast-time of the following day.



CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT.

THE LOST ARE FOUND.

After breakfast had been eaten, it was proposed to start off in search
of the stolen property; and Groot Willem, not without reluctance, was
prevailed upon to accompany the others.  He was loath to part even for a
few hours from the captives he prized so highly.  His wildest dreams had
been realised.  Two young giraffes had been taken and were gradually
getting tamed.  He could caress them.  They could be conducted with but
little trouble to the colony of Graaf Reinet,--thence delivered to the
Dutch consul, and both money and fame would be the reward.

Since returning to the camp and seeing the second giraffe, his
companions had heard no more boasting about his own prowess, nor
reproaches for their negligence.  But now came the question of the ivory
and other articles still lying in the camp.  With such a large quantity
of valuable property to transport to the settlements, the pack-horses
and cattle were worth making an effort to recover; so, leaving Hans with
Swartboy and two of the Makololo to guard the camp, the others started
off with the intention to seek and, if possible, find them.

Believing that the tribe of Bechuanas that had taken them would be found
living somewhere near a stream of water, they resolved to first proceed
down the river on which they had their camp; and in this direction they
set off.

For the first five miles nothing could be seen of the spoor of either
horses or cattle.  But the ground was hard and dry, and, even if cattle
had been driven over it, it would have been impossible to take up their
spoor.  It had rained heavily, and that would do something to obliterate
any tracks that might have been made.  Soon they came to a place where
the river-bank was low and marshy, and this they examined with care.
They saw the hoof-marks of many animals that had quenched their thirst
at the stream, all plainly impressed upon the soft earth.  To their joy
they perceived amongst them the tracks of horses and cattle, and easily
recognised them as those of the animals they had lost.  Beyond doubt
they had been driven over the river at that point.  Pleased at such a
good beginning, they continued on, more hopefully.  They were now sure
that they had come in the right direction.  The spoor still led down the
bunks of the stream.  Three or four miles farther on, they came within
sight of a kraal, containing about forty huts.  As they drew near,
several men ran forward to meet them, and instantly demanded their
business.

Swartboy informed them that they were looking after some stolen horses
and cattle.

A tall, naked man, carrying a huge parasol of ostrich-feathers, acted as
spokesman for the villagers.  In reply to Swartboy, he stated that he
knew what cattle were; that he had often seen such animals, but _not
lately_.  He had never seen any horses and knew not what sort of animals
they were.  As it chanced, the rain that had fallen upon the preceding
night had so softened the ground that all footmarks made since could be
distinguished without the slightest difficulty.  It was evident the man
with the parasol had not thought of this; for our adventurers at once
saw that he was telling them a story.  They had proofs that he was, by
the sight of several horse-tracks with which the ground was indented
around the spot where they had halted.  They were so fresh as to show
that horses must have been there but an hour ago; and it was not likely
they could have been on that ground without being seen by the villagers
and their chief.

Without saying another word to the natives, our party preceded on to the
kraal.  As they drew near, the first thing that fixed their attention
was the skin of an ox freshly taken from the carcass, and hanging upon
one of the huts.  Swartboy, who was an acute observer, at once
pronounced the hide to have belonged to one of the oxen he had lately
assisted in driving; and the two Makololo were of the same opinion.
They pointed out to the white hunters the marks of their own
pack-saddle.  None of the villagers who stood around could give any
explanation of the presence of the hide.  None of them had ever seen it
before; and the features of all were painfully distorted into
expressions of astonishment when it was shown them.

Passing out from the kraal the white hunters rode off over a plain that
stretched northward.  They did so because they saw something there that
looked like a herd; and they conjectured it might turn out to belong to
themselves.  They were not astray.  The herd consisted entirely of their
own stolen animals.  They were guarded only by some women and children,
who fled wildly screaming at the approach of the white party.

Riding up to the cattle, Groot Willem and Hendrik galloped on after the
frightened women, who, by the efforts they were making to escape,
plainly showed that they expected nothing short of being killed if
overtaken.

Too glad at recovering their property, the hunters had not the slightest
desire to molest the helpless women, and yet, without intending it, they
caused the death of one.

As they galloped after the affrighted crowd, one of the women was seen
to lag a little behind, and then fall suddenly to the earth.  The two
horsemen pulled up, and then turned in the direction of the woman who
had fallen.  On getting near, they noticed that dim, glassy appearance
of the eyes that denotes death.

Hendrik dismounted, and placed his hand over her heart.  It had ceased
to beat.  There was no respiration.  The woman was dead: she had been
frightened to death.

By her side was a child not more than a few months old.  And yet it
gazed upon Hendrik with eyes flashing defiance.  Its animal instinct had
not been subdued by the fear of man, and its whole appearance gave
evidence of the truth of an assertion often made, that an African child,
like a lion's cub, is born with its mental faculties wonderfully
developed.

By this time the other women had gone far out of reach, and none of them
could be recalled.  Hendrik was not inclined to leave the child by the
side of its dead mother.  Undecided what to do, he appealed to Willem,
who, by this, had come up.

"We have frightened the soul out of this woman," said he, as the great
hunter drew near.  "She has left a child behind her.  What shall we do
with it?  It won't do to leave the poor thing here."

"This is unfortunate, certainly," said Willem; as he gazed at the dead
body.  "The blacks will think that we killed the woman, and will ever
after have an opinion of white men they should not have.  We must take
the child to the kraal, and give it up to them.  We can tell them that
the woman died of her own folly, which is only the truth.  Hand the
piccaninny to me."

As Hendrik attempted to obey this request, the child by loud screams
protested against being taken away from its mother.  Its resistance was
not alone confined to cries.  Like a young tiger, it scratched and bit
at the hands that held it; thus exhibiting a strange contrast to the
conduct of its adult kindred, the Bechuanas, who have an instinctive
fear of white men as well as a distaste for hostilities in any way.

Holding the young black under one arm, Willem galloped after the cattle,
that, with the aid of the others, in less than an hour, were driven up
to the kraal.  The only one missing was the ox whose hide had been seen
upon the hut.  The child was delivered over to the chief.  Swartboy
explained to him the circumstances under which it had been found; and at
Willem's request advised the Bechuanas never again to molest the
property of other people.  To the surprise of our adventurers, not only
the chief but several of his elders loudly declared that they knew
nothing whatever of the cattle, or the women found in charge of them;
but, while they were thus talking, the two Makololo pointed out the men
who were loudest in declaring their ignorance, as the very ones who had
driven the animals away!

To escape from the discordant clamour of their tongues, the hunters
turned hastily away, taking their cattle along with them.

Hendrik and Arend felt some inclination to punish the blacks for their
treachery, as well as the loss of time and the trouble they had
occasioned.  This, however, was forbidden by the great-hearted Willem,
who could no more blame the natives for what they had done than the bird
that picks up a worm upon its path.

"These poor creatures," said he, "know no better.  They have never been
taught the precepts of religion; and to them right and wrong are almost
the same thing.  Leave them to learn a lesson from our mercy."



CHAPTER FIFTY NINE.

A LION HUNT.

Once more our adventurers turned their faces homeward.

Contrary to their expectations, the young camelopards caused them but
little trouble.  A single rheim attached to the neck of each was
sufficient to lead them along.

The manner in which both had been captured, had taught them in their
first lesson, that man's will was superior to their own; and they were
thenceforth either too cunning or too silly to resist it.

Before driving them far along the road, there would have been little
danger of their straying, even if left free to do so.  Like tame
elephants, they knew neither their own strength nor swiftness, and soon
became as easily managed as any of the horses or horned cattle.

For several days no incident worthy of notice occurred, nor did our
adventurers much desire that any should.  They had obtained all they
required; and even Groot Willem, before so enthusiastically fond of
hunting, would not have turned aside to kill the finest koodoo that ever
trod the plains of Africa, unless its flesh had been absolutely wanted
for food.

After a journey of two more weeks, Swartboy found himself in a land
inhabited by many of his countrymen,--the Bushmen.  It was a land he had
long been looking forward to visit, and with pleasant anticipations,--
not from any sunny memory of youthful joy, but merely from that
prejudice in favour of native land, natural to all mankind.  He had ever
represented to his young masters that the Bushmen were a race of noble
warriors and hunters,--that they were kind, hospitable, intelligent, and
in every respect superior to the countrymen of his rival Congo.

They were now in a country inhabited by several wandering tribes of
these people, and where opportunities might not be wanting to test the
truth of Swartboy's assertions.

One soon presented itself.  Early one afternoon they arrived at a
settlement of Bushmen,--a kraal of their kind, containing about fifty
families.  On learning that they would have a long distance to travel,
before finding a place to encamp, our adventurers resolved to stay by
the Bushmen's village for the night.

The first exhibition given of the hospitality Swartboy had boasted of
was by the whole tribe begging for tobacco, spirits, clothing, and
everything else the travellers chanced to possess; while the only
consideration they could give in return was the permission to draw water
from a pool in the neighbourhood of their kraal.

During the night a young heifer, belonging to the headman of the
village, was carried off by a lion; and in the morning two of the
natives were ordered to follow the beast and destroy it.  The hunters
had often heard of the manner in which the Bushmen kill lions; and,
anxious to see the feat performed, they obtained permission to accompany
the two men on their expedition.

The only implements carried by the Bushmen for the destruction of the
king of beasts were a buffalo robe, a small bow, and some poisoned
arrows, with which each was provided.

The lion was traced to a grove of trees, about a mile and a half from
the kraal.  To this place our adventurers proceeded, curious to see a
lion die under the effects of a wound given by a tiny arrow, as also to
learn how the Bushmen would approach such a dangerous creature near
enough to use such a weapon.

Gorged with its repast, there was no difficulty in getting near the
lion.  As the Bushmen anticipated, the fierce brute was enjoying a sound
slumber.

Silently the two drew near--so near as almost to touch the sleeping
monster.

The spectators, who had stopped at some distance off, dismounted from
their horses, and, with rifles ready for instant use, at a few yards
behind the Bushmen, followed the latter, whose courage they could not
help admiring.

Only one of the Bushmen drew his bow.  The other holding his buffalo
robe spread out upon both hands, went nearer to the lion than the one
who was to inflict the mortal wound.

There was a moment of intense interest.  In one second the lion could
have tossed the bodies of the two little men, crushed and mangled, to
the earth.

In another moment the tiny arrow was seen sticking in the monster's huge
side between two of the ribs.  Just as the fierce brute was springing to
his feet with a loud growl,--just as he had caught a glimpse of the
human face,--the buffalo skin was flung over its head.

He ran backwards, turned hastily around, and disengaged himself from the
robe; and then, astonished at the incomprehensible encounter, fled
without casting another glance behind!

So far as destroying him was concerned, the task of the Bushmen was
accomplished.  The poisoned arrow had entered the animal's flesh, and
they knew he was as sure to die as if a cannon-ball had carried off his
head.

But the Bushmen had still something to do.  They must carry back to
their chief the paws of the lion, as proof that they had accomplished
the errand on which they had been despatched.  They must follow the lion
until he fell; and, curious to witness the result, our adventurers
followed them.

Slowly at first, and with an apparent show of unconcern, the lion had
moved away, though gradually increasing his speed.

The arrow could not have done much more than penetrate his thick hide;
and, fearing that he might not die, Willem expressed some regret that he
had not given the brute a bullet from his roer.

"I am very glad you did not," exclaimed Hans, on hearing Willem's
remark.  "You would have spoilt all our interest in the pursuit.  I want
to see the effect of their poisoned arrow, and learn with my own eyes if
a lion can be so easily killed."

The wounded animal retreated for about a mile, then stopped and
commenced roaring loudly.  Something was evidently amiss with him, as he
was seen turning as upon a pivot, and otherwise acting in a very
eccentric manner.

The poison was beginning to do its work, and each moment the agony of
the animal seemed to be on the increase.  He laid himself down and
rolled over and over; he then reared himself upon his hind legs, all the
while roaring like mad.  Once he appeared to stand upon his head.  After
a time he attacked a tree growing near, and, tearing the bark both with
claws and teeth, left the branches stained with his blood.  He seemed as
if he wished to rend the whole world!

Never had our adventurers, in all their hunting experience, been
witnesses to such terrific death-struggles.

The sufferings of the great beast were frightful to behold, and awakened
within the spectators a feeling of pity.  They would have released it
from its misery by a shot, had they not been desirous to learn all they
could of the effects of the poison.

From the time the lion ceased to retreat, till the moment when he ceased
to live, about fifteen minutes elapsed.  During that time the spectators
saw a greater variety of acrobatic feats than they had ever witnessed in
one scene before.  As soon as the creature was declared dead, the
Bushmen cut off its paws and carried them back to the kraal.



CHAPTER SIXTY.

A SUDDEN REVERSE OF FORTUNE.

On the third morning after leaving the Bushmen's kraal, our adventurers
were awakened by the loud cries of a troop of black monkeys that
appeared in a neighbouring grove.

Something was giving them trouble.  This could be told by the cries,
which were evidently those of distress.

As breakfast was being prepared, and the cattle laden for a start,
Willem and Hendrik strolled towards the grove from whence the cries
came.  They were now more frightful than ever, and translated from the
monkey language seemed to say "Murder!"

In a tree where there were between fifteen and twenty of those
quadrumana, each about the size of an ordinary cat, was seen a young
leopard, trying to capture a black monkey for his breakfast.  To avoid
this enemy, the apes had crawled out on the small slender branches,
where the leopard dared not follow them, knowing that his weight would
precipitate him to the ground.

For some time our adventurers amused themselves by watching the abortive
efforts of the leopard to procure the means of breaking its fast.  He
would pursue a monkey along the limb until the branch became too small
to be trusted any farther.

He would get within two or three feet of the screaming ape, and then
stretch out one of his paws, while displaying his white teeth in a
smile, as though desirous of shaking hands with the creature he was
intending to destroy.

Finding his efforts to reach that particular monkey useless, he would
then leave it, to go through the same game with another.

One of the apes was at length chased out upon a large dead limb that
extended horizontally from the trunk.  The top had been broken off, and
there being no slender twigs on which the monkey could take refuge,
there was nothing to prevent the leopard from following it to the
extremity of the branch and seizing it at leisure.  There was no other
branch to which the monkey could spring; and it was fairly in a dilemma.
On perceiving this, it turned to the hunters who stood below, and gazed
at them with an expression that seemed to say, "Save me! save me!"

The leopard was so intent on obtaining his breakfast that he did not
notice the arrival of the two hunters until they were within twenty
yards of the tree, and until he was close pursuing the monkey along the
dead limb.

At this point, however, he paused.  He had caught sight of "the human
face divine," and instinct told him that danger was near.  He gazed upon
the intruders with flaming eyes, as if very little would induce him to
change the nature of his intended repast.

"Reserve your fire, Hendrik!" exclaimed Willem as he brought the roer to
his shoulder; "it may be needed."

The leopard answered the report of the gun by making a somersault to the
earth.  There was no necessity for Hendrik to waste any ammunition upon
him.  He had fallen in the agonies of death; and, without even waiting
for his last kick, Willem took hold of one of his hind legs and
commenced dragging the carcass towards the camp.

The camp was not far-away, and they soon came within sight of it.  To
their surprise they saw that it was in a state of commotion.  The horses
and cattle were running in all directions, and so too were the men!

What could it mean?

The answer was obtained by their seeing a huge dark form standing in the
middle of the camp.  They recognised it as the body of a black
rhinoceros, one of the largest kind.  The fierce brute had taken his
stand in the middle of the camping-ground, and seemed undecided as to
which of the fugitives he should follow.  His ill-humour had arisen from
the circumstance that, on seeking the place where he was in the habit of
quenching his thirst, he had found it occupied by strange intruders.

A black rhinoceros would not hesitate to charge upon a whole regiment of
cavalry; and the manner in which the one in question had introduced
himself to the camp was so impetuous as to cause a precipitate retreat
both of man and beast,--in short, everything that was free to get off.
One of the young giraffes had been too strongly secured to effect its
escape.  It was struggling on the ground, and by its side was an ox that
the borele had capsized in his first impetuous onset.  The second of the
giraffes was fleeing over the plain, and had already gone farther from
the camp than any of the other animals.  It seemed not only inspired by
fear, but a renewed love of liberty.

The borele soon selected an object for his pursuit, which was one of the
pack-horses, and then charged right after him.

Meanwhile Willem and Hendrik hastened on to the camp, where they were
joined by two of the Makololo.  All the others had gone off after the
cattle and horses.  The giraffe, in its efforts to escape, had thrown
itself upon the ground, and was fastened in such a way that it was in
danger of being strangled in the rheims around its neck.  As though to
insure its death, the ox that had been gored by the borele became
entangled in the same fastenings, and tightened them by his violent
struggles.

The first care of the returned hunters was to release the young giraffe.
This could have been done immediately by setting it free from its
fastenings; but then there was the danger of its following the example
of its companion, and taking advantage of the liberty thus given to it.

As the ox, whose struggles were nearly breaking its neck, had been gored
by the borele and severely wounded, he saw it would be no use letting
him live any longer, and without more ado he received his quietus from
Hendrik's rifle.  The giraffe was now released, and restored to its
proper fastenings.  By this time the others had caught up with most of
the horses and cattle.

None of them, except the one selected for especial pursuit by the
borele, had gone far, but, turning when out of danger, were easily
caught.  This was not the case with the camelopard that had got loose
and fled among the foremost.  Its flight had been continued until it was
no longer seen!

It had entered the grove from which Willem and Hendrik had just come,
and there were ten chances to one against their ever seeing it again.

Had Willem been on horseback at the time it ran off from the camp, he
would have stood a chance of recapturing it, but, as it had now twenty
minutes of start, the chances were very slight indeed.  Not a moment was
to be lost, however, before making the attempt, and, accompanied by
Hendrik, Congo, and the dog Spoor'em, Willem started off for the forest,
leaving the others to continue the task of collecting the animals still
scattered over the plain.

But one brief hour before, Willem Van Wyk was the happiest hunter in
existence, and now he was about the most miserable.  One of the two
captives, for which he had suffered so many hardships, had escaped, and
in all probability would never be again seen by the eyes of a white man.
The realisation of his fondest hopes was delayed for a time,--perhaps
forever.

One camelopard was of but little value to him.  He must have two; and
fortune might never assist them in obtaining another.  He was not sure
of being able to keep the one that still remained.  Death might take it
out of their hands.  It had been injured in the struggle; and, before
leaving camp he had noticed that the efforts of the Makololo to get it
to its feet had not succeeded.  His great undertaking--the chief purpose
of the expedition--was as far as ever from being accomplished.

Such were the thoughts that tortured him, as he urged Congo and the dog
to greater haste, in following the spoor through the forest.



CHAPTER SIXTY ONE.

THE LOST FOUND.

The forest which Willem at first feared might be miles in extent, proved
to be but a mere strip of timber, through which he soon passed,
discovering an open plain on the other side.  Nothing could be seen of
the camelopard, though its tracks were found leading out upon the plain.

Willem's wishes were very difficult to meet.  At first he was afraid the
giraffe would be lost in a dense forest, where he would be unable to
gallop after it on horseback.  Now, when contemplating the vast plain
before him, he feared that the flight of the escaped captive might be
continued for many miles, and he regretted that it had gone out of the
timber.

The trees would have given it food and shelter, where it might have
stayed until overtaken; but it was not likely to make halt on an open
plain.

It must now be many miles off, since they could see nothing of it.

The tracks could be followed but very slowly,--not half so fast as the
animal itself had made them, while going in search of the kindred from
which it had been so rudely separated several days before.  The longer
they continued to take up the spoor, the farther they would be from the
animal that had left it.

All this was fully understood by our adventurers.

"It's no use going farther," remarked Hendrik.  "We have lost the
creature beyond all hope of recovery.  We may as well turn back to
camp."

"Not a bit of it," answered Willem.  "The giraffe is mine, and I sha'n't
part with it so cheaply.  I'll follow it as long as I have strength left
me sufficient to sit upon my horse.  It must stop sometime and
somewhere; and, whenever that time comes, I shall be there not long
after to have another look at it."

Thinking that an hour or two more of what he considered a hopeless
chase, would satisfy even Willem, Hendrik made no further objections,
but continued on after Congo, who was leading along the spoor.

The sun had by this crossed the meridian, and commenced descending
towards the western horizon.

They had started from camp without eating breakfast; and their sudden
departure had prevented them from bringing any food along with them.
Thirsty and feeble from the long fast, and the fatigue of tracking under
a hot sun, they continued their course in anything but a lively fashion.

"Willem!" at length exclaimed Hendrik, suddenly pulling up his horse, "I
am willing to do anything in reason, but I think we have already gone on
this worse than wild-goose chase, a good many miles too far.  We can
scarce get back to the camp before nightfall, and I shall commence
returning now."

"All right," answered Willem.  "I can't blame you.  You are free to do
as you please; but I shall go on.  I need not expect others to act as
foolishly as myself.  This is my own affair, and you as well as Congo
had better turn back.  Leave me the dog, and I can track up the giraffe
without you."

"No! no!! baas Willem," exclaimed the Kaffir.  "I go with you and
Spoor'em.  We no leave you."

Willem, Congo, and the dog moved on, leaving Hendrik gazing after them.

He remained on the spot where he had pulled up his horse.  "Now this is
interesting," muttered the young cornet, as he saw them go off upon the
spoor.  "I have been acting without motives,--acting like a fool ever
since we have been out on this expedition.  Circumstances have driven me
to it and will do so again.  Yes.  I must follow Willem.  Why should I
desert him when that poor Kaffir remains true?  If his friendship worth
more than mine?"

Spurring his horse into a gallop, Hendrik was soon once more by the side
of his forsaken companion.

Willem had a strong suspicion that he was himself acting without reason,
in seeking for an object he could hardly expect to find.  This sage
reflection did not prevent him from continuing the search.  Half
distracted by the loss of the camelopard, he was scarce capable of
knowing whether he now acted sensibly, or like a fool!

To all appearance Hendrik had only followed him for the purpose of
prevailing upon him to return.

Every argument that could be advanced against their proceeding farther
was used by the young cornet,--all to no purpose.  Willem was determined
to proceed, and persisted in his determination.

Evening approached, and still was he unwilling to give up the search.

They could not return that night, for they were now nearly a day's
journey from the camp.

"Willem is mad,--hopelessly mad," thought Hendrik, "and I must not leave
him alone."

They journey on together, and in silence, Hendrik fast approaching that
state of mind in which he had just pronounced Willem to be.

But their journey was approaching its termination.  It was nearer than
either of them expected to a successful issue.

A clump of trees was seen rising up over the plain.  They were willows,
and indicated the proximity of water.

Towards these the tracks appeared to lead in a line almost direct.  The
giraffe, guided by its instinct, had scented water.  The horses ridden
by the trackers did the same, and hastened forward to the clump of
trees.

There was a pool in the centre of the grove, and on its edge an animal,
the sight of which drew an exclamation of joy from the lips of Groot
Willem.  It was the escaped camelopard.  A second joyful shout was
caused by their perceiving that it was again a captive.

The loose rheim, which it had carried away round its neck, had become
entangled among the bushes, and it was now secured so that they had no
difficulty in laying hold of it.  Had they not come upon the spot, it
would have perished either by the suicidal act of half-strangulation,
from thirst, or by the teeth of some fierce predatory animal.

The rheim was now unwound from the saplings to which it had attached
itself, and the giraffe released from its irksome attitude.  No harm had
yet befallen it.

"Now, Hendrik," exclaimed Willem, as he gazed upon the captive with an
expression of pride and pleasure, "is it not better that we have saved
this poor creature than to have left it to die a horrible death?"

"Yes, certainly," answered his companion.  "Much good may sometimes
result from what may appear a foolish course of conduct."

Satisfied with the result of his perseverance, Willem was quite
indifferent as to whether his conduct had been foolish or otherwise.

Congo did not seem the least surprised at the good fortune of his
master; probably for the reason that he had the utmost confidence in his
wisdom, and never for a moment had doubted that the giraffe would be
discovered.

Willem never was without the means of lighting a fire,--he was too fond
of a pipe for that,--and near a large blazing heap of wood they remained
until the first appearance of day.

The journey back to the camp was a tedious one, but was made with much
less heaviness of spirit than they had suffered when leaving it to go in
search of the lost giraffe, which fortune had so favoured them in
finding.



CHAPTER SIXTY TWO.

WITH THE HOTTENTOTS.

On reaching the camp, Willem and Hendrik found their companions
anxiously awaiting their return.

The horses and cattle had all been recovered, and the borele that had
caused their dispersion had been shot by Hans and Arend.

Its attack had caused a delay of two days, and the loss of an ox.

Again the journey towards Graaf Reinet was resumed, and day by day was
prosecuted with all the speed that could be made in safety to their
animals.

The return journey was not completed until they had suffered many
hardships, and had more than once nearly lost the two young giraffes.

On passing through the Hottentot country, they saw many large plains
from which the grass had lately been burnt; and not a morsel could be
obtained for the subsistence of their animals.  Amid the herbage charred
by the fire, they frequently saw the remains of serpents and other
reptiles, that had been scorched to death.

During the passage across these burnt tracts, the travellers suffered
much from hunger and thirst, as did also their animals.  Such hardships
Groot Willem seemed not to heed.  His only care was for the young
giraffes; his only fear that they might not safely reach their
destination.  But each hour of the toilsome journey was cheered by the
knowledge that they were drawing nearer home; and all that was
disagreeable was endured with such patience as sprang from the prospect
of a speedy termination to their toils.

The latter part of their route lay through a part of Southern Africa,
farther to the west than any they had yet visited.  They passed through
lands inhabited by certain tribes of natives, of whom they had often
heard and read, but had never seen.

Of some of the customs of those unfortunate people classed amongst that
variety of the _genus homo_ known as the "Hottentot," they one afternoon
became fully and painfully acquainted.

Beneath the shade of some stunted trees they found an aged man and a
child not more than eighteen months old.  The man, who could not have
been less than seventy years of age, was totally blind; and by his side
was an empty calabash, that had evidently once contained water.

With the assistance of Swartboy, as interpreter, it was ascertained that
he had lately lost by death an only son and protector.  There was no one
now to provide for his wants, and he had been carried far-away from the
home of his tribe, and left in the desert to die!

The child had lost its mother, its only parent, and had been "exposed"
to death at the same time and for the same reason,--because there was no
one to provide for it.

Both old man and infant had been thus left exposed to a death which must
certainly ensue, either by thirst, hunger, or hyenas.

This horrid custom of the Hottentots was not entirely unknown to our
adventurers.  They had heard that the act, of which they now had ocular
evidence, was once common among the inhabitants of the country, through
which they were passing, but, like thousands of others, they had
believed that such a barbarous custom had long ago been discontinued,
under the precept and example of European civilisation.

They saw that they were mistaken; and that they were in the
neighbourhood of a tribe that had either never heard these precepts of
humanity, or had turned a deaf ear to them.

Knowing that a Hottentot kraal could not be many miles away, and
unwilling to leave two human beings to such a fearful fate, the
travellers determined to take the helpless creatures back to the people
who, as Swartboy worded it, had "throwed 'um away."

Strange to say, the old man expressed himself not only willing to die
where he sat, but showed a strong disinclination to being returned to
his countrymen!

He had the philosophy to believe that he was old and helpless,--a child
for the second time,--and that by dying he was but performing his duty
to society!  To be placed again in a position where he would be an
incumbrance to those whom he could not call kindred was, in his opinion,
a crime he should not commit!

Our adventurers resolved upon saving him in spite of himself.

It was not until late in the afternoon that they reached the kraal from
which the outcasts had been ejected.  Not a soul could be found in the
whole community who would admit that the old man had ever been seen
there before, and no one had the slightest knowledge of the child!

The white men were advised to take the objects of their solicitude to
the place where they properly belonged.

"This is interesting," said Hendrik.  "We might wander over all Southern
Africa without finding a creature that will acknowledge having seen
these helpless beings before.  They are ours now, and we must provide
for them in some way or other."

"I do not see how we can do it," rejoined Arend; "I'm quite sure that
they are now with their own tribe, and it is they who should provide for
them."

A second effort was made to persuade the villagers to acknowledge some
complicity in the attempt to starve two human beings.  But they had
already learned that their conduct in such a custom was considered by
white people as a crime, and, ashamed of what they had done, they
stoutly stood to the story they had first told.

Strangest of all, the feeble old man confirmed all their statements,
and, as some proof of the truth of what they had said, he informed the
travellers that the chief and several others whom he called by name,
were men incapable of practising a deception!

This he professed to know from a long acquaintance with them.

The hunters were now within the territory over which the Colonial
Government claimed and sometimes enforced dominion, and the Hottentots
were threatened with the vengeance of English justice in the event of
their not taking care of the old man and child, or should they again
expose him as they had already done.

They were told that a messenger should be sent to them within a few
weeks, to learn if their orders had been obeyed; and, having delivered
up the two helpless beings to the headman of the village, the travellers
once more proceeded on their way.



CHAPTER SIXTY THREE.

"THE DUTCHMAN'S FIRESIDE."

A few more days' journey brought them into a neighbourhood inhabited by
several Dutch "boers."  They were now travelling upon a track dignified
by the name of "road," which only benefited them so far as between the
rivers it conducted them without difficulty from one crossing-place to
another.

For the first time in several months they saw fields under cultivation
by white labour, and were able to procure a substance called "bread."

One evening, as they were preparing to encamp near the habitation of a
well-to-do appearing boer, they received an invitation from the
proprietor to make his house their home for the night.

A heavy cold rain had been falling most part of the day, and to all
appearance the weather would be no better during the night.  The
invitation was gladly accepted, and the travellers, grouped around the
wide hearth of the boer's kitchen fire, were enjoying that sense of
happiness we all feel to a greater or less extent when perfectly secure
from a storm heard raging without.

The horses and cattle had been driven under large sheds.  The young
giraffes were secured in a place by themselves.  Congo, Swartboy, and
the Makololo were in a hut near by, with some Hottentot servants of the
baas boer.

Their host was a free-hearted, cheerful sort of fellow, only too
thankful that circumstances had given him some guests to entertain him.
His tobacco was of the best quality, and the supply of "Cape Smoke"--the
native peach brandy--was apparently unlimited.

According to his own account, he had been a great hunter during his
youth; and there was nothing he liked better than to relate incidents of
his own adventures in the chase, or to listen to the tales of others.
The only fault he had to find with our heroes was, that they were too
moderate in the use of his "Cape Smoke."

He was a convivial man,--one who knew of nothing better to do after a
long day's work than getting what is termed "jolly" in the company of
friends.  He did not care to imbibe alone, and he declared that nothing
looked worse than that, except to see a man drinking too often in the
presence of others, when they refused to do justice to his generosity.

According to his own account, he had been hard at work on his farm
throughout all that day, and in the rain.  Why, then, should he not
cheer himself after such protracted exposure?  The "smoke" was the very
thing to do it.  His guests were welcome to the best his house could
afford, and all the compensation he would ask in return for his
hospitality would be the satisfaction of seeing them make themselves at
home.

On the part of the boer there was a strong determination to make his
guests intoxicated; but this was not observed by them.  They only
believed that his hospitality was pushed a little too far,--so much so
as to be rather annoying.  But this was a fault they had observed in
many, who were only trying to put on their best behaviour, and,
considering its unselfishness, it could be readily excused.

Notwithstanding the many hardships Groot Willem and his companions had
endured in their various excursions, they had never deemed it necessary
to use ardent spirits to excess; and the frequent and earnest entreaties
of the boer, backed by his fat and rather good-looking "vrow," could not
induce them to depart from their usual practice of abstemiousness.  The
boer pretended to be sorry at his inability to entertain his youthful
guests.

Notwithstanding his assertions to the contrary, however, the hunters
passed a long and pleasant evening by his fireside.

The supper provided for them, as well as everything else, except some of
their host's hunting stories, was very good.  It was so seldom that the
man had an opportunity of entertaining guests, that it seemed
ingratitude on their part to deprive him of the pleasure he enjoyed;
and, yielding to his solicitations, they did not retire until a late
hour.

But there had been one chapter in the conversation of the evening to
which none of our adventurers listened with much pleasure.  It was a
statement made by the boer, after he had partaken of several glasses of
the "smoke."

"Ish ver shorry you go get the money for the two _cameels_," said he.
"Mine two bruders and mine vrow's bruder stand chance to lose it now.
Ish ver shorry for them, you know."

On further conversation it was discovered that his two brothers and a
brother of his wife had left for the north seven months before, on a
hunting excursion, their principal object being to procure the two young
giraffes for which the reward of five hundred pounds had been offered.
They were to visit the country of the Bakwains, and had taken with them
a native servant who belonged to that tribe.  Their return was hourly
expected, and had been so for more than a month, though nothing had been
heard of them since their departure.

It was but natural that the boer should prefer that his own kinsmen
might obtain the reward, instead of a party of strangers; and his having
so candidly expressed his regrets in that regard was rather a
circumstance in his favour.  His guests ascribed it to his open,
straightforward manner, made a little more free by application of the
"smoke."

It was not until an old Dutch clock in a corner of the kitchen had
struck two, that the young men--who pleaded their fatigue after a long
day's march--were allowed to retire to their beds.

They were shown into a large room, where a good soft couch had been
prepared for each of them.  Their arduous journeying seemed nearly over;
for they had reached a place where people slept with their faces
screened from the faint light of the stars, and without depending on the
nature of the earth beneath them for the quality of their couch.



CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR.

"STRAYED OR STOLEN."

It was not until ten o'clock next morning that Hans awoke and then
aroused his companions.

"We should be ashamed of ourselves," exclaimed Willem, as he hastily
commenced making his toilet.  "We have swallowed too much smoke and
overslept ourselves!"

"No," answered Hans, who was always anxious to prove himself the
philosopher of the company.  "We should rather feel pride in the
circumstance that the small quantity we drank has produced so great an
effect.  It is proof that we have not been in the habit of indulging in
the use of ardent spirits, and that pride we should ever strive to
maintain."

The travellers were soon in the presence of their host and hostess, whom
they found waiting to do the honours of a well-appointed breakfast, to
which each of the hunters except Willem sat down.  Willem could not be
contented to eat, until he had looked to the property in which he
professed to have a much greater interest than his companions, and he
would not sit down to the breakfast-table till he had paid a visit to
his darling giraffes.

Walking out of the house he went toward the sheds where the cattle and
native servants had been housed for the night.  On entering the hut
where he had left his black companion the evening before, he had before
him a melancholy evidence of the evils of intemperance.  The four
Makololo were rolling about upon the floor, moaning heavily, as though
in the last agonies of death.

Swartboy and Congo, more accustomed to the effects of strong drink, only
showed by their heavy breathing that they were endeavouring to recover
from their night's debauch by indulging in a sound slumber.

They were quickly roused to consciousness by Willem, who used the toe of
his boot for the purpose; though even this rude appliance had no effect
on any of the four Makololo.

The Kaffir sprang to his feet, and, as though trying to carry his head
in his hands, reeled out of the room.  He was followed by his master,
who saw that all efforts at inducing the Makololo to resume their
journey would be for several hours unavailable.

On moving around to the shed where the two giraffes had been tied,
Willem was somewhat alarmed by an indescribable expression seen on the
features of Congo.

The eyes seemed as if about to start from the Kaffir's head!

The distance between his chin and nose had alarmingly extended, and his
whole appearance formed a frightful picture of astonishment and fear.

To Willem there needed no explanation.  One glance was enough.

The camelopards were gone!

The Bushman and Kaffir had promised to watch over them in turns, and had
both neglected their duty by getting drunk.

Willem uttered not one word of reproach.  Hope, fear, and chagrin kept
him for a moment silent.

Within his mind was struggling a faint idea that the giraffes had been
removed by some servants of the boer to a place not far-away,--perhaps
to a more secure shed.

This hope was dashed with the fear that they had been stolen, or had
helped themselves to freedom, and might never again be found.

During the first moments of his agony and despair Groot Willem had the
good sense to blame himself.  He had been as negligent as either of the
two terror-stricken men now standing before him.

He should not have left to others the sole care of what he prized so
highly.  For the sake of a few hours of better fare than that to which
he had lately been accustomed, why had he neglected to look after a
prize that had cost so many toils and so much time in obtaining?  Why
could he not have lived a few days longer, as he had done for so many
months, watchful, thoughtful,--on the alert?  All would then have been
well.

A search of five minutes among the huts and sheds told him that the
giraffes were certainly gone.

The task was to recover them.  Directing Swartboy and Congo to make all
the inquiries they could, as to the time and manner of their
disappearance, the great hunter turned despairingly towards the house to
communicate to his companions the misfortune that had befallen them.

The news took away every appetite.  The grand breakfast prepared by the
vrow and her dusky handmaidens was likely to remain uneaten; for all,
starting up from their seats, hastened towards the shed where the
giraffes had been confined.

The hospitable boer expressed a keen sympathy for their misfortune, and
declared his willingness to spend a month, if need be, with all his
servants, in the recovery of the lost camelopards.

"All dish comes of dranking do mush smokes," said he.  "Mine beoples
last night all got more so drunk; put dey must do so no more.  I shall
spill all de smokes on the ground, and puy no more forever."

One of the giraffes had been tied to a post forming part of the shed in
which they had been shut up.  The post had not only been torn out of the
earth, but from its fastenings at the top, and was lying on the ground,
six or eight paces from where it had formerly stood.  Two other posts
adjoining had been pushed down, making a breach in the enclosure
sufficiently large for the giraffes to have made their exit.

Had they been tied to trees as usual, they could not have escaped.  The
rheims around their slender necks would have held them.

Perhaps by the weight and strength of their bodies they had pushed down
the stockade, and the rheims had slipped over the ends of the posts
after they had fallen.  In this manner they might have escaped.  But,
though it seemed simple enough, still there was something strange in it,
and our travellers thought so.

The captives had lately shown no disposition to get free, and it was odd
they should do so now.  Moreover there must have been a premeditated,
jointly-contrived plan between them, and this could hardly be supposed
to exist.

They were gone, however, and must be sought for and brought back.

For this duty Congo was already making preparations, though with very
little prospect of success.  Rain had been falling heavily all the
night, and had destroyed any chance of the lost animals being tracked,
even by Spoor'em.

Within a large enclosure, contiguous to the boer's dwelling, more than
five hundred cattle had been penned up during the eight.  These had been
turned out to graze that morning, and, in consequence, the ground was
everywhere covered with the hoof-marks of horses and cattle.

A full hour was spent in finding a track that could, with any certainty,
be pronounced that of a giraffe, and this had been made by the animal
going in the direction of the sheds.  Of course it was the spoor of the
camelopards when first led up on the evening before.

"Hendrik," exclaimed Willem, nearly frantic with despair; "what shall we
do?  Those giraffes are somewhere, and must be found."

"They are just as likely to have gone in one direction as another,"
answered Hendrik, "and suppose we look for them in the direction of
Graaf Reinet."

This remark but increased Willem's despair, for it showed an
unwillingness on the part of his comrade to make any farther delay on
account of their misfortune.

The boer declared himself willing to furnish horses and men for a
search, if the hunters could ascertain, with any certainty, the
direction the runaways had taken.

Hans now volunteered a bit of advice, which was listened to by Willem,
as being the most sensible yet given.

"Our late captives," said that philosopher, "have made the most of a
good opportunity for escaping.  It was, no doubt, done under an
instinct; and the same instinct will be likely to guide them back toward
their native land.  If we go in search of them, let the search be made
in the direction from whence they came."

"Mine poys," broke in the boer, "dare ish no use lookin' if they goed
that way.  Dey will not wait fast enough for anypoddy to catch up to
'em."

Hendrik and Arend expressed themselves of the same opinion.

"Congo, you black scoundrel!" exclaimed Willem, "where are our giraffes?
Which way shall we look for them?"

In answer to this question the bewildered Kaffir could only shake his
aching head.

Willem had great faith in Congo's instinct, and was not satisfied with
the limited information received from him.

"Do you think, Congo, we had better follow the spoor we made in coming
here?" he asked.

Again the Kaffir shook his head.

"You sooty idiot!" exclaimed the distracted questioner, "answer me in
some other way.  No more wabbling of your head, or I'll break it for
you."

"I don't think at all now, baas Willem," said Congo.  "My head feel too
big for the question you put 'um."

Hendrik was about to observe that there was a vast difference between
the Kaffir and his master, but, not wishing to vex the latter any more,
he proposed that something should be done besides talking.

"Hans," exclaimed Willem, "you stay here and look after our property.
All the others who wish it can come along with me; but whoever does must
get into his saddle in the shortest possible time.  I'm off this instant
in search of the fugitives."

So saying, Groot Willem made a rush towards the shed under which his
horse had been stabled, and, putting on the saddle with his own hands,
he sprang into it and rode hastily away.



CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE.

THE LAST OF A FAMILY.

Hendrik and Arend, who had imitated his movements, alone followed Groot
Willem from the house.  The boer, after promising so much, appeared so
dilatory in his preparations that no dependence could be placed on his
aid and the three hunters galloped off without waiting for any of the
farm, or any of his servants, of whom they had seen several.  His excuse
for not making more haste to provide help was, that no one could tell
the direction in which the runaways had gone, and that to search for
them in the north, when the animals might have strayed south, was sheer
silliness.

Much to the surprise or all, Congo had stayed behind instead of
accompanying Groot Willem, according to universal custom.  The Kaffir's
solicitude for the safety of his young master had been so great on all
former occasions, and he had shown such an unwillingness to be separated
from him, that his present behaviour was a surprise to everybody who
knew him.  He was allowed to have his own will and way, for it was known
that any efforts at making him useful, by denying him this privilege,
would be of no avail.  True and faithful as he had ever shown himself,
his actions were seldom controlled by the others.

"As soon as we get a mile or two away from the house," said Hendrik, "we
may be able to discover their tracks.  It is no use our examining the
ground over which so many cattle have passed.  But supposing we should
learn that we are on the right course, what then, Willem?"

"Then we must follow it till the giraffes are retaken," answered Willem.
"I should have but little hope of catching them again," he continued,
"did I not know that they are now quite tame.  I should as soon think of
my own horse absconding, and going a hundred miles into the wilderness,
to avoid me.  We shall find the giraffes if we persevere; and, once
found, they won't hinder us from catching them."

From the quiet behaviour of the giraffes for the last three weeks, Arend
and Hendrik could not deny the truth of Willem's assertions; and all
three urged their horses forward, more anxious than ever to come upon
the spoor of the strays.

After passing beyond the ground tracked by the farm cattle, they once
more came out upon the so-called road, along which they had travelled
the day before.  But for more than a mile, after the most careful
examination, no spoor of giraffe, old or young, was to be seen.  Even
those made by them on the day before could no longer be distinguished in
the dust.  The rain, with the tracks of other animals coming after, had
obliterated them.  The state of the ground they were examining was now
favourable for receiving a permanent impression; and, as none appeared,
they became satisfied that the runaways had not returned that way.

After a long consultation which came near ending in a wrangle, Willem
being opposed by his companions, it was decided that they should ride
round in a circle of which the dwelling of the boer should be the
centre.  By so doing, the spoor of the lost animals should be found.  It
was the only plan for them to take, and slowly they rode on, feeling
very uncomfortable at the uncertainty that surrounded them.

The country over which they were riding was a poor pasture with patches
of thinly growing grass.  A herd of cattle and horses, old and young,
had lately gone over the ground, and often would the eye catch sight of
tracks so like those made by a giraffe that one of the party would
dismount for a closer examination before being able to decide.

To Groot Willem this slow process was torturing in the extreme.  He
believed that the giraffes were each moment moving farther away from the
place.

After the search had been continued for nearly two hours, a spoor was at
length found that was unmistakably that of a camelopard.  With a shout
of joy Willem turned his horse and commenced taking it up.  It was
fresh,--made but a few hours before.

Under the excitement of extreme fortune, whether it be good or bad,
people do not act with much wisdom.

So thought Hendrik as he called the attention of Willem to the fact that
they had started out for the purpose of finding the spoor but not
following it; that they would require the help of Congo and Spoor'em;
that they must provide themselves with food and other articles necessary
for a two or three days' journey.

Believing that, by the time they could go back to the house and return,
the giraffes would gain a distance of not less than ten or fifteen
miles, Hendrik's suggestions seemed absurd, and his companion, without
heeding them, kept on along the trail.

Hendrik and Arend could do nothing but follow.  Before they had gone
very far, Arend made the observation that the tracks they were now
following appeared too large to have been made by the young giraffes.

"That's all a fancy of yours," rejoined Willem, as he hurried on.

"There appears to have been only one that went this way," said Hendrik,
after they had gone a little farther.

"Never mind," answered Willem, "we have no time to look for the other.
It won't be far away from its companion, and we shall probably find them
together."

Notwithstanding what Willem said, his comrades were convinced that they
were following the track of only one giraffe, and that larger than
either of those that had been lost.  They again ventured to give their
opinion about it.

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Willem.  "There has not been a giraffe in this
part of the country for the last ten years, except the two we ourselves
brought here."

This statement would have been indorsed by every settler for a hundred
miles around.  For all that, it was a wrong one, as our adventurers soon
had reason to be convinced.

Before they had gone another mile, the large body and lofty head of a
giraffe loomed up before their eyes!  On seeing it, they put spurs to
their horses and rode straight toward it.  They got within about three
hundred yards of it before their approach was discovered.

For the first ten minutes of the chase that then ensued, the distance
between the hunters and the retreating giraffe remained about the same.

Gradually it began to diminish.  The giraffe appeared to become
exhausted with only a slight exertion; and on reaching a piece of marshy
ground, where its feet sunk into the mud, it made a violent struggle and
then fell over on its side.

On riding forward to the spot, the hunters had an explanation of why the
chase was so soon over.  They were only surprised that the creature had
been able to run at all.

It proved to be an ancient male of which but little was left but the
skin and bones.

It looked as though it was the last of its race, about to become
extinct.

On its back and other parts of its body were lumps as large as walnuts,
the scars of old wounds, where musket-bullets had been lodged in its
body several years before!

The rusty head of an arrow was also seen protruding from its side.

It had the appearance of having been hunted for a score of years, and
hundreds of times to have been within an inch of losing its life.

Its enemy, man, had overtaken it at last, and was gazing upon its
struggling not with exultation, but rather with pity and regret.

They felt no triumph in having run down and captured a thing that had
been so long struggling with death.  Groot Willem, who had been for a
time highly elated with the prospect of recovering the lost giraffes,
was again in great despondence.  Much time had been squandered in this
purposeless pursuit.

He was not one to yield easily to despair; and yet despair was now upon
him.  There was every symptom of a dark night coming down, and it was
now near.  Inspired either by pity or revenge, he sent a bullet from his
roer into the head of the struggling skeleton; and, throwing himself
into the saddle, he turned the head of his horse once more towards the
house.

An attempt had been made to recover the lost giraffes.  It had failed.
Night was close at hand.  Nothing more could be done for that day, and
Willem now declared his willingness to return to Graaf Reinet and die.

Hope had departed from his heart, and he no longer felt a desire to
live.

Hendrik and Arend, although sympathising with him in their common
misfortune, exchanged looks of congratulation.  They would now be
permitted to go home.



CHAPTER SIXTY SIX.

NEWS OF THE LOST.

The sky had been overclouded all day, and continued so as the sun went
down.  Over them descended a night as dark as Erebus.

Perceiving the impracticability of getting that night to the house of
the boer,--a distance of ten or fifteen miles,--the disappointed
trackers dismounted, and staked their horses upon the grass, determined
to wait for the return of another day.

The night was passed in fitful slumbers around a camp-fire, where they
were only visited by a flight of large moths, and some laughing hyenas,
that by their harsh cachinations seemed to mock them in their misery.

They were in a district of country from which the most noble of its
denizens seemed to have been driven, and the most despicable only
remained.  When morning dawned they again climbed into their saddles and
continued on towards the kraal of the boer.

When, as they supposed, within about five miles of the house, they met
two strange horsemen coming in the opposite direction.

"Goot morgen, shentlemens!" saluted one of the strangers as they drew
near.  "I'm glat to meet some ones coming your ways.  Hash you seen
anything of our horses?"

"Do you mean those you are now riding?" asked Hendrik.

"No, not these, but five other horses,--no, three horses and two
mares,--all mitout either sattles or pridles; one red horse mit one eye
and a white poot on the left behind leg, one mare mit a star on the
front of his head, und--"

"No," interrupted Hendrik, "we have been out since yesterday morning,
but have seen no stray horses of any description; not a horse except
those we are riding ourselves."

"Then we need not look in the direction you have been," said the other
horseman, who spoke English with a proper accent.  "Will you please tell
us whence you have come?"

Hendrik gave them a brief history of their course during the last
twenty-four hours; and, in doing so, mentioned the object of their
expedition,--the search after the giraffes.

"If that's what you've been after," said the man who spoke proper
English, "perhaps we can assist you a little.  From what you tell me, I
presume you must have been staying at the kraal of Mynheer Van Ormon.
Yesterday morning we were looking for our horses about ten miles south
of his place, when we saw two giraffes, the first I had ever seen in my
life.  We were badly mounted, and unprepared for hunting anything except
our strayed horses, else we should have given chase."

"Ten miles to the south of the kraal!" exclaimed Willem, "and we seeking
for them twenty to the north.  What fools we have been.  What were the
giraffes doing?" he asked earnestly, turning towards the man who had one
more awakened within him the sweet sentiment of hope.  "Were they
grazing or going on?"

"They were travelling southward at a gentle trot, but increased their
speed on seeing us.  We were not within a quarter of a mile of them."

Our adventurers were too impatient to stay longer on the spot; and,
after getting a few further directions, they bade the strangers good day
and hastened on towards the house.

On entering its enclosure the first person they encountered was the boer
Mynheer Van Ormon.

"I see pat luck mit you, mine poys," said the Dutchman, as they rode up
to him.  "I knowed it would pe so.  The cameels have goed too far for
you."

"Yes, too far to the south," answered Willem.  "We have heard of them,
and must be off immediately.  Where are our companions?"

"They goed away yester morgen to live where the oxen get grass.  They
now waiting for you at the south."

"That's all right," said Hendrik.  "We must hasten to join them; but I
think we'd be better of something to eat first.  I'm starving.  Mynheer
Van Ormon, we must again trespass on your hospitality."

"So you shall, mine poys, mit pleasure all around; put who told you I
vas Mynheer Van Ormon?"

"The same two men who told us about the giraffes.  They were looking for
some stray horses."

"Dat mush be mine neighbour Cloots, who live fifteen miles to the east
of thish place.  They say they see the cameels.  Where an' when they see
'em?"

"Yesterday morning, about ten miles south of this place, they said."

"May be dey be gone to Graaf Reinet to say you are coming.  Ha, he, hi!
Dat ish ver' goot."

The boer then conducted his guests towards the dwelling.  On passing a
hut by the way, the hunters were surprised at seeing Congo suddenly
disappear around a corner!

On the part of the Kaffir, the encounter appeared both unexpected and
undesired, as he had started back apparently to avoid them.

This was a new mystery.

"Ho Congo! come back here," shouted Willem.  "Why are you here?  Why are
you not with the others?"

The Kaffir did not condescend to make answer, but skulked into the hut.

The boer now proceeded to explain that the Kaffir had expressed a wish
to be employed at his place, and had declared that he would proceed no
further with his former masters, who had cruelly ill-treated him for
allowing the giraffes to escape.  He denied having done anything to
influence this strange decision.

"This cannot be," said Willem.  "There must be some mistake.  He is not
telling the truth if he says that we beat him.  I may have spoken to him
somewhat harshly; I admit having done so, but I did not know he was so
sensitive.  I'm sorry, if I have offended him, and am willing to
apologise."

Mynheer Van Ormon stepped up to the door of the hut and commanded the
Kaffir to come forth.

When Congo showed himself at the entrance, Willem apologised to him for
the harsh language he had used, and, in the same manner as one friend
should speak to another, entreated him to forget and forgive, and return
with them to Graaf Reinet.

During this colloquy the sharp eyes of the boer were glancing from
master to servant, as though he knew what the result would be.  They
showed a gleam of satisfaction as the Kaffir declared that he preferred
remaining with his new master; and the only favour he now asked of
Willem was some compensation for his past services.

Had Congo been one of the brothers, Hans or Hendrik Von Bloom, Willem
could not have done more towards effecting a reconciliation.  At length,
becoming indignant at the unaccountable conduct of his old servitor, he
turned scornfully away, and, along with Hendrik and Arend, entered the
house.

After seeing a joint of cold boiled beef, a loaf of brown bread, and a
bottle of Cape wine placed before his guests, the boer went out again.

Hastily repairing to one of the sheds, he there found a Hottentot
servant at hard work in saddling one of his horse.

"Piet," said he, speaking in great haste, "quick, mine poy! chump into
your saddle, and ride out to the north till you meet mine bruder and
Shames.  Tell them not to come more so near as half a mile to the house
for one hour.  Make haste an' pe off!"

Two minutes more and the Hottentot was on the horse, galloping away in
the direction given to him.

Having satisfied their hunger, thanked their host and his fat vrow for
their hospitality, and bidden them farewell, our adventurers started off
for the South, anxious to rejoin Hans, and continue the search after the
giraffes.



CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN.

WHY CONGO TURNED TRAITOR.

Unwilling to trespass any longer on the hospitality of Mynheer Van
Ormon, Hans had left the house with the intention to encamp somewhere
near it, and wait for the return of his companions.

To this the boer had made but little opposition, and his guest proceeded
to prepare the Makololo for a removal.  They were still suffering all
the horrors of a recovery from their first spell of intoxication, and,
on entering the hut where they had passed the night, Hans found them
full of that species of repentance that leads to strong resolutions of
future reformation.

On being informed of the loss of the giraffes, their remorse seemed as
if it would tempt them to suicide, and one of them, while tearing his
wool-covered head, kept repeating the word _kombi_, _kombi_!

Hans knew that this was the name of a virulent poison much in use
amongst the Makololo.

The four unfortunate men were willing to take upon themselves the whole
blame of allowing the giraffes to escape, and seemed grateful for the
mercy of being allowed to live any longer!

After the cattle and horses had been loaded, and all got ready for a
start, Congo expressed his determination to stay behind.

"What does this mean, Congo?" asked Hans.  "Are you angry at what your
master said to you?  You must forget that.  He meant no harm.  What do
you intend doing?"

"Don't know, baas Hans," gruffly answered Congo; "don't know nuffin'."

Believing that the Kaffir was only displeased with himself for his
conduct on the night before, and that he would soon recover from his
"miff," Hans made no attempt to dissuade him.  Accompanied by Swartboy
and the Makololo he moved away, driving the cattle before them, and
leaving Congo and his dog behind.

He went in a southerly course, as the grass looked more tempting in that
direction.  When about three miles from the house he came upon a grove
of trees, through which ran a little rivulet.  On its bank he determined
to make camp, and await the return of his companion.

The manner in which he had left the boer had been rather sudden and
unceremonious, and, if called upon to give an explanation of it, only
some half-developed reasons would have presented themselves to his mind.
Of these, however, there were several.  One was the desire of removing
the Makololo, now under his sole care, from the temptation of swallowing
any more "Cape Smoke."

This apprehension, however, was altogether groundless, and not even a
relief from aching heads and self-condemnation could have induced the
subjects of Macora to drink any more for the present.

Hans possessed a philosophic spirit, and, under most circumstances,
could wait patiently.  Swartboy and the Makololo were in want of rest,
to enable them to recover from their last night's debauch.  The cattle
and horses were in need of the grass that grew luxuriantly on the banks
of the stream.  All, therefore, could pass the day with but little
inconvenience arising from the absence of the others.

As the night came on, the cattle were collected; and, availing
themselves of the habits to which they had been long since trained, they
lay down close to the large fire that had been kindled by the edge of
the grove.

The night passed without any incidents to disturb them; but, just as day
broke, they were awakened by the barking of a dog, and soon after
greeted by a familiar voice.

It was that of Congo.

"I thought you would think better of us and return," said Hans, pleased
once more to see the face of the faithful Kaffir.

"Yaas, I come," answered Congo, "but not to stay.  I go back again."

"Why!  What's brought you, then?"

"To see baas Willem; but he no here.  Tell him when he come back to wait
for Congo.  Tell him wait two days, four days,--tell him always wait
till Congo come."

"But Willem will go to the house before he comes here, and you can see
him yourself."

"No; may be I off with the boer oxen.  I work there now.  Tell baas
Willem to wait for Congo."

"Certainly I shall do so," answered Hans; "but you are keeping something
hid from me.  Why do you wish to see your master, if you are so offended
as to have forsaken him.  What is your reason for staying behind?"

"Don't know," vaguely responded the Kaffir.  "Dis fool Congo don't know
nuffin'."

"Der's one thing I mus say for Congo," said Swartboy, "he mos allers
tell the troof.  He jus done so now."

The Kaffir smiled as though satisfied with Swartboy's remark.

After again requesting that Willem should be told to wait his return, he
hastened away, followed by the dog Spoor'em.

There was a mystery in the conduct of the man that Hans could not
comprehend in any other way than by taking the explanation he had
himself given.  Congo seemed certainly either to be a fool or acting in
a very foolish way.

As the morning advanced, Hans began to believe that the trackers had
proved successful in their search.  The spoor of the giraffes must have
been found and followed, or they would have been back before then.

From his knowledge of Willem, Hans was certain that once on the spoor he
would never leave it as long as he had strength to continue.  The
giraffes had become tame, and there was no reason why they should not be
easily retaken.  But just as the sun had mounted up to the meridian,
this hope was dispelled by the appearance of Willem and his comrade
coming back empty-handed.

"You have been unsuccessful," said Hans, as they rode up.  "Well, never
mind; there is still a hope left us, and that is, to get safely home."

"We have another hope besides that," replied Willem.  "We have heard of
the giraffes.  They were seen yesterday morning about seven miles to the
southward of this spot.  They are between us and our home, and we are
not hunters if we don't recover them yet.  We must be off after them
immediately."

Swartboy and the Makololo were directed to drive in the cattle, and all
commenced making preparations for a departure.

"We shall miss Congo and Spoor'em," said Willem, while the cattle were
being loaded.  "We shall want them badly now."

"Ah!" exclaimed Hans, "I had nearly forgotten to tell you that Congo was
here this morning, and wished me to say you were to wait until he came
to you.  He was very anxious to see you, and said you were to wait for
him four days, or longer, if he did not see you in that time."

"Fortunately there will be no need for that delay," rejoined Willem.  "I
have just seen the ungrateful rascal,--not half an hour ago."

"Indeed.  And what did he want?"

"Only to dun me for the wages due him for the last year of his services.
I have never been more deceived about a man in my life.  I could not
have believed it possible that Congo would thus turn traitor and desert
me."

The conversation was discontinued, as all became busy in making ready
for a start.



CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT.

LIGHT OUT OF DARKNESS.

In half an hour afterwards the hunters had broken up their camp.

"I feel sorry about having to leave Congo behind," said Willem, as the
cattle were being driven across the stream.  "Not that I care a straw
for him, the ungrateful wretch, but that we may be unable to find the
spoor of the giraffes, not having him with us.  He and Spoor'em would be
worth everything now."

"I think," rejoined his brother, "there's not much chance of our
recovering them.  We are now in a settled country where they will find
but little rest.  They will either be driven out of it or killed by
whoever comes across them."

"I have thought of all that," replied Willem; "still, I shall hope for a
day or two longer.  I can better survive the loss, if nobody else
succeeds in obtaining the reward offered for them; but should that
brother of whom the boer spoke, as being gone on a similar expedition to
ours,--should he perform the feat we have failed to accomplish, then I
shouldn't care to live much longer."

Before they had gone very far, all noticed that there was something
wrong with Swartboy, who seemed also inclined to turn back, and was
muttering some gibberish to himself, as was his habit when in any way
perplexed or annoyed.  The excitement in his mind at last became too
strong to be restrained, and, drawing near Willem, he asked:--

"What was that, baas Willem, you said jus now 'bout the bruder of dat
Dutchman?"

"I hardly remember, Swart," answered Willem.  "Some thing about his
going after giraffes and getting the reward instead of ourselves.  Why
do you ask?"

"But did they gone nort same as we been a doin'?"

"Yes, so the boer told us."

"How long was dat ago?"

"Seven months, I think he said."

"Why for you no tell me afore?"

This question Willem did not think worth answering, and Swartboy for a
few minutes was left to his thoughts.

Presently he recommenced the conversation.  "Baas Willem," said he.  "I
think we bess stop, and talk a bit.  Congo no fool, but Swartboy.
Swartboy a fool, and no mistake 'bout dat."

"Well, what has that to do with our stopping for a talk?" asked Willem.

"The boer's bruder, he come back from the nort without catch any
giraffe," replied the Bushman.  "I tink he got some now."

A light suddenly dawned on the mind of Hans, who stood listening to this
dialect.  The mysterious conduct of Congo appeared better than half
explained.

A halt was immediately ordered, and all gathered around Swartboy.

Nearly twenty minutes was taken up in obtaining from the Bushman the
information he had to give.  From the answers made to about a hundred
questions, the hunters learned that, in the hut where he, Congo, and the
Makololo had been so freely entertained, they had seen a Hottentot who
had lately returned from a journey to the north.

This Swartboy had understood from a few words the man had muttered while
under the influence of the "smoke."

During the evening, the Hottentot had been called away from the hut, and
Swartboy had seen no more of him, nor thought anything of what he had
said.

Now, however, on hearing that the boer had a brother who had gone
northward on a giraffe hunt, Swartboy conceived the idea that the
drunken Hottentot had not been there alone.  In all likelihood he had
accompanied the expedition.  It had returned unsuccessful; and the
boer's brothers had stolen the two giraffes that were now missing.

The more this conjecture was discussed, the more probable it appeared.

No doubt Congo had some suspicion that there was something wrong, and he
was keeping it to himself lest he might be mistaken.

Had he stayed behind in the hope of ascertaining the truth?  His rude
behaviour to his former master in the presence of the boer might have
been only a ruse to mislead the latter, and give an opportunity for
carrying out some detective contrivance.  It was all in keeping with the
Kaffir character, and Willem was but too delighted to think that such
was the explanation.

"I thought at the time I last saw him," said Willem, "that there was
something in his behaviour unlike what would be shown by a traitor.  It
seemed to contradict his words.  I believe that we have all been very
stupid.  I hope so.  I shall go back and see Congo immediately.  I shall
demand an explanation.  He will tell me all, if I can only get the boer
out of the way."

"I have another idea," said Hendrik.  "The two men we saw hunting for
horses, and who told us they had seen our giraffes to the south, were a
couple of liars.  They did not speak like men telling the truth.  I can
see it now: we were simpletons to have been so easily deceived.  They
were the boer's own brothers,--the very men who have robbed us!"

"Yes," said Hans; "and they had the assistance of Mynheer Van Ormon in
doing it.  How easy it is to understand his profuse hospitality now.  We
have indeed been duped."

The belief that the giraffes had been stolen was now universal, and our
adventurers were only too glad to think so.  They much preferred that
this should be the case than to think the animals had strayed.  There
would be a far better chance of recovering them.

It is easy to believe what we most desire, and all agreed that the
property had been surreptitiously taken from the shed.

Without saying another word, Groot Willem turned his horse upon his
tracks, and rode back towards the kraal of Mynheer Van Ormon.

The boer met him outside the enclosures, apparently surprised to see him
return.  The moment Willem set eyes upon the man's face, he saw that
there was something amiss.  He observed a strong expression of
displeasure, accompanied with a glance of uneasiness.

"I have come back to have a chat with my old servant," said Willem.  "He
has been with me for so many years that I don't like to part with him on
slight grounds."

"Ver goot," answered Van Ormon.  "You can see him when he come home.  He
hash goed after the oxen.  If you pleash, take him along mit you when
you leave."

As the sun was now about setting, Willem knew that the Kaffir must soon
be coming in with the cattle, and he rode off from the house in the hope
of meeting him.  Soon a large herd was seen approaching from the plain,
and, riding around it, Willem found Congo in company with two
Hottentots.

While in the presence of his companions, the Kaffir would not speak to
him, but was apparently devoting every thought to the task of directing
the movements of the herd.  His old master seemed unworthy of his
notice.

"We have been all wrong in our conjectures," thought Willem: "Congo has
really deserted me.  No man could keep up such an appearance as he is
doing.  I may go back again."

He was about to turn away, when Congo, observing that both the
Hottentots had gone a few yards ahead, and were busy talking to one
another, muttered in a low tone: "Go back, baas Willem, and wait at you
camp.  I come dar to-morrow mornin'."

Willem was not only satisfied, but overjoyed.  Those words were enough
to tell him that his Kaffir was still faithful,--that he was acting for
the best, and that all would yet be well.  He returned to his companions
as cheerful and happy as he had been two nights before, while sitting by
the Dutchman's fireside and, under the exhilarating influence of the
Schiedam.



CHAPTER SIXTY NINE.

THE KAFFIR DISCOVERS TOO MUCH.

When Congo was made aware that the giraffes were missing, he believed
himself more to blame than any one else.  Conscience told him that he
had neglected his duty.  His regret for what had happened inspired him
with a strong resolve to do all in his power towards recovering the lost
animals.  On examining the broken stockade through which they had
escaped, he had doubts as to its being their work.  In crushing out the
posts with the weight of their bodies they must have made a noise that
he should have heard; for the giraffes had been tied within ten yards of
where he had passed the night.  The posts to which they had been
attached had not been dragged away, as would have been the case had the
animals drawn them out with their rheim fastenings.  He had a suspicion
that they had been taken down by human hands; but, as the others did not
appear to think so, he fancied there might be a possibility of his being
wrong.  He therefore kept his suspicions to himself.  Had he said that
the giraffes could not have knocked down the stockade without his
hearing them, he would have been told that he was too drunk to hear
anything, and his testimony discredited.  He knew that he was not.

He had observed something else to confirm his suspicion.  He remembered
the Hottentot, who in his cups declared that he had lately been to the
north, where he had seen giraffes hunted and killed.  He had heard the
Hottentot called out from among the company, and by a man who spoke
"boerish English."  The voice was not that of the proprietor of the
place, whom he had seen early in the evening; and yet he had observed no
other white man about the establishment.

Moreover, some saddled horses he had seen in the stables the night
before were also gone.  It was these things that had determined him to
stay at the house and watch.  On pretence of hiring himself to the boer
he was permitted to remain.

Every day something turned up to confirm his suspicions.  He had seen
the Hottentot sent off, while Willem, Arend, and Hendrik were eating
their breakfast inside; and, soon after their departure, he had
witnessed the arrival of two white men, who appeared to consider the
place their home.  Those men, he believed, had been there on the night
when the giraffes were missed, and Congo suspected them to be the
thieves.  He saw them go off again in the direction they had come,
equipped as for a hunting expedition, or for some distant journey.  He
would have followed them, but dared not, lest his doing so might be
observed and excite the suspicion of the boer.

Believing that they would not go far that night, he made up his mind to
track them on the following morning.  Stealing away from the shed, where
he slept, he took up their spoor as soon as the first light of day would
allow of it, and, following this, he soon saw enough to assure him that
his suspicions were correct.

A journey of ten miles brought him amongst some ranges of steep hills,
separated from each other by deep, narrow gorges.  On ascending to the
top of one of these, he perceived a small column of smoke rising from a
ravine below.

Throwing his hat upon the ground, and commanding the dog Spoor'em to
keep a watch upon it, he stalked forward and soon obtained a view of
what was causing the smoke.  It was a fire kindled under the shadow of
some _cameel-doorn_ trees, as if for the bivouac of hunters.

Judging by two animals that stood tied to the trees, Congo knew that
they who had kindled the fire were not hunters, but thieves.  The
animals in question were giraffes,--young ones,--the same that Congo had
been driving before him for some hundreds of miles.

Contrary to his expectations, there appeared to be but one man in charge
of them; and that, neither of the two he had seen the evening before at
Van Ormon's.  The men he had been tracking must have visited the camp
and gone off again.  Their absence was but of little consequence.  The
giraffes were there, and that was all he wanted.  He could now go back
and guide the real owners to the spot, who would then be able to reclaim
their property.  Had the two men he had traced to the camp been seated
by the fire, he would no doubt have succeeded in accomplishing his
plans.  But unfortunately they were not.

After noting the topography of the place, so that he might easily
recognise it, he turned to depart.

Before proceeding twenty paces on his way, he was startled by the report
of a gun.  The sound was followed by a howl of pain, which he knew came
from the hound Spoor'em.  At the same instant, trotting out from some
bushes on the brow of the hill, he saw two mounted men.  One glance told
him they were the men he had seen the evening before it the house of Van
Ormon.  They were those on whose track he had come.  Crouching among the
bushes, he endeavoured to avoid being seen; but in this he was
unsuccessful.

A shout from one of the men told him that he was discovered, and soon
after the hoof-strokes of the galloping horse told that they were
rapidly approaching his hiding-place.  Though swift of foot, there was
no chance for him to escape; for all that, instinct led him to take to
his heels.  For some distance down hill, which was very steep, he was
able to keep in advance of his mounted pursuers.  But once on the level
ground, the horsemen soon closed upon him, and the chase was brought to
an abrupt termination by one of them striking him from behind with the
butt of his gun, and rolling him flat upon his face.



CHAPTER SEVENTY.

CONGO A CAPTIVE.

The horsemen pulled up with a shout of exultation.

"What did you stop for?" asked the one who had struck the blow.  "Why
didn't you keep on running?" he added with a fiendish laugh, as he
leaned over the prostrate body of the Kaffir.

"Yaas, why don't yer go on to tell where der two cameels be, to der
fools whom found um?" asked the other.  "Why don't yer do datch?"

The two men who were addressing the half-unconscious Congo were the same
two Willem, Arend, and Hendrik had met the day before,--the men who had
directed them to search to the south.  One was the brother of Mynheer
Van Ormon, the other was his brother-in-law.  They were men who had for
many years been living on the borders of the colony,--part of their time
engaged in fighting Kaffirs and Griquas, and robbing them of their
cattle, the other part in trading with the natives for ostrich-feathers
and ivory.  They had lately returned from an unsuccessful expedition to
the north, the object of which had been to procure two young giraffes,
in order to obtain the reward or price offered for them by the consul of
the Netherlands.  On seeing within the kraal of their kinsman Mynheer
Van Ormon, the very animals they had sacrificed so much time in vainly
searching for, they could not resist the opportunity of appropriating
them.  Their idea was, to conceal the animals for a few weeks among the
hills, until those to whom they properly belonged, giving them up as
lost, should return to their homes.  The giraffes might then be taken to
Cape Town, and disposed of, without the original owners ever knowing
anything of the trick that had been played upon them.

Unfortunately for Congo, they had that morning been in search of
something for food, and had returned just in time to see him playing spy
upon their camp.

"This is the villain who pretended to quarrel with his master and leave
him," said the man who had knocked the Kaffir down.  "I told Van Ormon
to send him off with the others, but he was sure the fellow did not wish
to assist them, and could not if he would.  By his folly our game has
been nearly lost.  We've just been in time; but what are we to do with
the black brute, now that we've caught him?"

"Kill him!" replied the other, who was the brother of Van Ormon.  "He
mus never got to de white mens.  Dey would come and rob us all."

"Very likely.  Some people are bad enough to do anything; but I have
half killed this fellow already,--you may do your share, and finish him,
if you like."

"No Shames; as you pegins this little job, it is besh you finish it
yourself."

Bad as were the two ruffians into whose hands Congo had fallen, neither
of them liked to give him the _coup de grace_, and, undecided what else
to do with him, they tied his hands behind his back.

He was then assisted to his feet, and, reeling like a drunken man, was
led towards their camp.

Congo soon began to recover from the effects of the blow, and became
sensible of the danger he was in.  By their talk, he could tell that
they intended putting him out of the way.  From their savage looks and
gestures he could see there was but little hope of his life being
spared.  His captors would not dare to let him escape.  He had learned
too much to be allowed to live.  No assistance could be expected from
his master and companions.  They were waiting for him far-away.

"Is this the game you have brought back?" exclaimed the man sitting over
the camp-fire, as the others came up dragging their captive after them.

"Yes, and as you are the cook, you must dress it for our dinners,"
replied he who answered to the name of "Shames."

"Well, why don't you tell me what this means?" interrogated the first.

"Only this: we have caught a spy.  We have been tracked by him to this
place.  But there's no great harm done yet.  We're in luck, and nothing
can go wrong with us.  Our catching this fellow is a proof of it."

A long consultation was now carried on between the ruffians, in which
they all agreed in the necessity of putting the prisoner to death.

It would never do to let him live.  He would in the end bring them into
trouble, even if kept a prisoner for years.  His tongue must be silenced
forever.  There was but one way of silencing it.  That was, never to
allow him to leave the place alive.

There was a point upon which his captors were a little in doubt.  Had
the Kaffir undertaken the task of tracking them upon his own
responsibility, or with the knowledge and at the instigation of his
masters?  In the former case only, would they be safe in destroying him.
In the latter, the act might be attended with danger.  To make sure of
this, one of the three men--Van Ormon's brother it was--proposed going
back to the house, there, if possible, to ascertain how the case stood.
To this the other two readily consented; and, mounting his horse, he
rode off for the kraal of his kinsman.

As soon as he was gone, the others tied Congo to a tree, and then
seating themselves under the shade of the _cameel-doorn_, they proceeded
to amuse themselves with a game of cards.

Four hours passed,--hours that to the Kaffir seemed days.  He was in a
state of indescribable agony.  The thongs of hide that bound his wrists
to the branches were cutting into the flesh, and besides, there was
before his mind the positive certainty that he had not much longer to
live.

The fear of death, however, scarce gave him so much mental pain as his
anxiety to know something of the fate of his companions, and his wish
that Groot Willem should recover the giraffes.  He now regretted that he
had not revealed his suspicions at the last interview with his young
master.  This might have saved the hunters from their loss and himself
from the fate that now threatened him.  It was too late.  He had acted
for the best, but acted wrongly.

In the afternoon Van Ormon's brother came riding back to the camp.

"Well! what news?" asked James, as he came within speaking distance.

"It ish all right.  Dey don't know nothing of what's up.  Mine bruder
have constant watch over their camp.  They be in von quandary, and will
soon go home."

"Is Van Ormon sure that they hadn't any communication with this Kaffir?"
asked James.

"Yesh! they had.  One of them came to the house, and saw this fella
yesterday.  But for all that, blackee never said von leetle word to him.
They were well watch while they wash togedder."

"Then perhaps it is not all right, as you say.  They may have the same
suspicion that led him here.  Why the deuce don't they go off home?  I
don't like their hanging about so long."

"I tell you, Shames, it ish all right.  We have only to get rid of the
spy.  He must never see the fools who own him, again.  What ish we to do
with him?"

"Send a bullet through his body," said the man who had been left in
charge of the giraffes.

"Yes; he must be killed in that way or some other, certainly," said
James; "but which of us is to do it?  It's a pity we did not shoot him
down while he was running.  Then was the time.  I don't like the thing,
now that I've cooled down."

Bad as the ruffians were, none of them liked to commit a murder in cold
blood.  They had determined that Congo must die, yet none of them wished
to act as the executioner.

After a good deal of discussion and some wrangling, a bright idea
flashed across the brain of Van Ormon's brother.  He proposed that their
prisoner should be taken to a pool that was some distance down the
gorge; that he be tied to a tree by the side of the pool, and left there
for the night.

"I see de spoor of lion dare every mornin'," said he, grinning horribly
as he spoke.  "I'll bet mine life we find no more of dis black fella ash
a few red spots."

This plan was agreeable to all; and at sundown the Kaffir was released
from his fastenings, conducted down the narrow valley, and firmly
spliced to a sapling that stood close to the edge of the pool.

To provide against any chance of his being heard and released by a stray
traveller, a stick was stuck crosswise in his mouth, the bight of a
string made fast over each end of it, and then securely knotted at the
back of his head.

After taking a survey of his fastenings, to see that there was no danger
of their coming undone, his cruel captors made him a mocking salute;
and, bidding him "good bye," strode off towards their camp.



CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE.

A FIGHT BY FIRELIGHT.

Anxiously did Groot Willem wait for the next morning and the promised
visit from Congo.

But the morning came and passed without any Congo, Willem became
impatient, and could not content himself any longer in the camp.

"This will not do," he exclaimed, as he saw that the sun was again going
down in the sky.  "We must not remain here.  Perhaps Congo _cannot_
come.  Of course he cannot, or he would have been here before now.  We
must look for him, but it will not do for all of us to go together.
Hendrik, will you come with me?"

Hendrik readily responded to the invitation.  The two mounted their
horses and rode off towards the residence of Van Ormon.

From the behaviour of Congo when Willem had last seen him, the latter
was quite certain that his visits at the kraal were not desired.  The
Kaffir probably supposed that they might interfere with his plans, by
bringing suspicion upon himself.

This, however, did not prevent Willem from going to see him once more.

Congo had broken his promise; and that was a proof that something must
be wrong.

On their new visit to Mynheer Van Ormon, this gentleman did not take the
slightest trouble to show them civility.

"Dat plack villen you call Congo," said he, "goed away last night.  We
thought he vash mit you.  When you fints him again take him to der
tuyfel, if you likes, and keep him dare."

"Do you think he has gone away from this place?" asked Willem of
Hendrik, as they rode out from Van Ormon's enclosures.

"Yes," answered Hendrik; "I see no reason to doubt it."

"But why did he not come to me, as he promised?"

"There's some good reason for his not having done so."

"I wish I knew in what direction he has gone."

"That difficulty may soon be removed," said Hendrik.  "I fancy I can
tell it to a point of the compass.  It will be found a little to east of
north."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it was in that quarter we encountered the two men on the day
after the giraffes were missing.  Moreover, we know they are not south,
for that is the way those false guides wanted us to take."

Too excited to return to camp without doing something, Willem proposed
that they should ride out on the plain towards the north-east, and see
whether anything could be learned about Congo.  To this Hendrik agreed;
and, after going southward about a mile from Van Ormon's house, they
turned, rode circuitously around it, and then struck off for the
north-east.

They had no great hope of finding the object of their search, but it was
necessary for them to do something; and, as Hendrik's surmise was not
without some probability, they kept on.

After making about five miles across the plain, they came within sight
of some hills that began to loom up on the horizon to the north-east.
They were still, to all appearance, about four miles distant.

"Just the place where our property might be concealed," suggested
Hendrik.  "No one would hide giraffes on a plain.  If we do not find
them yonder, and this very night, we deserve to lose them."

The sun was just setting as they reached the crest of the first range of
hills.  Looking back over the road they had just travelled, a horseman
was seen coming across the plain, a mile distant from the spot where
they had halted.

"If we watch that man," said Hendrik, "and not let him see us, we shall
probably find what we're in search of.  If not one of the thieves
themselves, he looks to me very like a messenger going to them from Van
Ormon's.  From the behaviour of the boer, I'm now convinced that our
giraffes have been stolen, and Van Ormon himself is the thief."

Riding in among some trees, they dismounted, and, securing their horses
in the cover, watched the man who was approaching from the plain.

In the twilight, they saw him toil slowly up the slope, a little to the
east of them, and then continue his course over the summit of the ridge,
going on toward the next.

The night was now so dark that he could not be kept in sight without
their riding very near to him.  In this there would be danger.  The
hoof-strokes of their horses might be heard.  To avoid this they
permitted him to keep far in the advance, and rode slowly and
noiselessly after, trusting to chance to conduct them upon his track.

Fortune favoured them.

On mounting a hill about half a mile from the place where they had last
seen the lone horseman, they came in sight of a camp-fire that appeared
burning in the bottom of the ravine below.  Both dismounted, tied their
horses to the trees, and silently stole towards the light.

It grew larger and brighter as they advanced upon it.  Without the
slightest danger of being themselves seen, they drew nearer and nearer,
until they could make out the figures of three men seated around the
fire.  These appeared engaged in an earnest confabulation.

But for the messenger who had gone back to the house of Mynheer Van
Ormon, Willem and Hendrik might have long wandered amongst the hills
without seeing anything to reward them for their journey.  As it was,
they saw that which caused Willem a thrill of joy,--so intense he could
scarce restrain himself from crying out.

Congo's suspicions, whether based upon instinct or reason had not been
idle fancies.  Tied to a tree under the glare of the camp-fire stood two
young giraffes,--the animals that had not strayed but been stolen.

A hurried consultation took place between the two hunters.  They must
obtain possession of their property, but how?  They did not wish to be
killed in the endeavour to right themselves, and they did not wish to
kill those who had robbed them, if they could avoid doing so.

"Let us give them a chance," said Willem.  "If they will surrender the
stolen giraffes peaceably, we shall let them off.  If not, then I mean
to shoot them down without mercy.  We must take the law into our own
hands.  There is not a court or magistrate within one hundred miles of
us."

While they were thus hastily arranging upon a plan of action, the three
men seated around the fire commenced cooking their suppers.

Only a few words more were interchanged between Willem and Hendrik, who
had come to an understanding as to how they should act.  Carrying their
guns at full cock, they stepped silently forward side by side and close
together.  Under cover of the timber they advanced within ten paces of
the unsuspecting thieves, and then boldly stepped out into the light.

"Keep your seats," cried Groot Willem in a loud, commanding voice.  "The
first of you that stirs shall die like a dog!"

The man known as "Shames," showed signs of an intention to spring to his
feet and seize hold of a gun that lay near.

"Don't! for your soul's sake, don't!" shouted the great hunter.

The warning was not heeded; and the man rushed toward the gun, took it
up and at once brought it to the level.  But before he could touch his
trigger, Willem's roer delivered its loud report, and the thief fell
forward on to the fire.

Van Ormon's brother, not heeding the fate of his companion, made some
show of resistance; but this was instantly ended by a blow from the butt
of Groot Willem's gun, which he now held clenched in his hand.  The
third of the thieves did not stay for similar treatment, but bolted from
the camp at a pace that would have left most horses behind him.

The guns of all three were picked up, discharged, and then smashed
against a tree.  The giraffes were untied and taken up to the place
where the horses had been left.  After which, Willem and Hendrik mounted
into their saddles, and, leading the camelopards behind them, commenced
a backward march toward camp, where they had left their companions.

The fate of the two men left by the fire remained from that moment
unknown to our adventurers.  Nor did they care to inquire about it.
Before leaving the spot, it was seen that neither of them had received a
mortal wound; and, as there was still one unharmed to take care of them,
in all probability they recovered.  _That_, at least, was the hope and
belief of the hunters.



CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO.

ALL RIGHT ONCE MORE.

On finding himself tied to a tree, gagged, and abandoned Congo could see
but one chance of his being released from his confinement, and that was
by some beast of prey.

He was quite sure that those who had left him there would never return
to relieve him.  His reflections were anything but pleasant.  They bore
some resemblance to those of a sick man, who has been assured by his
physician that there is _No_ chance for him to recover.

The Kaffir was not one to give way to a cowardly fear of death, but
there was another thought in his mind almost as disagreeable, and that
was the chagrin he felt of not being able to see his beloved master
again, and make known his discovery of the giraffes.

He even thought, while waiting for his approaching fate, that, if by any
means he could let Groot Willem know where his property was concealed,
he could then die content.

An hour passed, and a heavy darkness gathered around him.  It was the
shades of night.  A few small animals of the antelope kind came trotting
up to the pool, and quenched their thirst.

They were followed by some jackals.  Other visitors might soon be
expected,--visitors that might not depart without rudely releasing him
from his confinement.

Half an hour later, and his eyes, piercing through the gloom of the
night, became fixed upon a quadruped, whose species he could not well
make out.  It appeared about the size of a leopard.  It was crawling
slowly and silently towards him.

It drew nearer; and just as he thought it was about to spring upon him,
it uttered a low, moaning noise.  Congo recognised the dog Spoor'em.

For a moment there was joy in the African's soul.  The faithful dog was
still living, and had not forsaken him.  If he was to die, it would be
in company of the most affectionate friend a man can have among the
brute creation.  Groot Willem and the giraffes were for a while
forgotten.

As the dog crawled close up to him, Congo saw that it carried one leg
raised up from the ground, and that the hair from the shoulder downwards
was clotted with blood.

Spoor'em appeared to forget the pain of his wound, in the joy of again
meeting his master, and never had Congo felt so strongly the wish to be
able to speak.  Gagged as he was, he could not.  Not one kind word of
encouragement could he give to the creature that, despite its own
sufferings, had not forsaken him.  He knew that the dog was listening
for the familiar tones of his voice, and looked reproachful that he was
not allowed to hear them.

Congo did not wish even a brute to think him ungrateful, and yet there
was no way by which he could let Spoor'em know that such was the case.

Not long after the arrival of the dog, Congo heard the report of a gun.
To the sharp ears of the Kaffir it seemed to have a familiar sound.  It
was very loud, and like the report of a _roer_.  It sounded like Groot
Willem's gun, but how could the hunter be there?  Congo could not hope
it was he.  Some minutes of profound silence succeeded the shot, which
was then followed by three others, and once more all was still.  A
quarter of an hour passed, and hoof-strokes were heard on the hill
above; a party of horsemen were riding along the crest of the ridge.
Congo could hear their voices, mingling with the heavy footfall of the
horses.

They were about to pass by the spot.  "The thieves," thought Congo.
"They are shifting their quarters."

They were not more than a hundred yards from the tree where he was tied;
and, as they came opposite, and just as he became satisfied that they
were going on without chance of seeing him, he heard a sort of struggle,
followed by the words: "Hold up a minute, Hendrik; my horse has got on
one side of a tree, and Tootla the other."

The voice was Willem's, and "Tootla" was the name of one of the young
giraffes!

Congo made a desperate effort to free his hands from their fastenings,
as well as to remove the stick that was distending his jaws.  The
struggle was in vain.

There appeared no way by which he could sound an alarm and let his
friends know that he was near.  He could think of none.

They were leaving him.  They would return to Graaf Reinet, and he should
be left to die at the foot of the tree, or be torn from it by wild
beasts.  He was almost frantic with despair, when an idea suddenly
occurred to him.

He could not speak himself, but why could not the dog do so for him.

His feet were still free, and, raising one of them, he gave Spoor'em a
kick,--a cruel kick.

The poor animal crouched at his feet and uttered a low whine.  It could
not have been heard thirty paces away.

Again the foot was lifted, and dashed against the ribs of the
unfortunate dog, that neither made an effort to avoid the blow nor any
complaint at receiving it.

The only answer vouchsafed was but a low, querulous whine, that seemed
to say, "Why is this, master?  In what have I offended you?"

Just as the foot was lifted for the third time, the air reverberated to
a long, loud roar.  It was the voice of a hungry lion, that appeared to
be only a few paces from the spot.

Spoor'em instantly sprang to his feet, and answered the King of beasts
by a loud defiant bark.

The faithful animal that would not resist its master's ill-treatment,
was but too ready to defend that master from the attack of a third
party.

In the bark of Spoor'em there was an idiosyncrasy.  It was heard and
instantly recognised.

The moment after Congo had the pleasure of hearing the tramp of horses,
as they came trotting down the hill; and the voice of Willem calling out
to him!

When released from the tree, and the gag taken from his mouth, the first
words he uttered were those of apology to Spoor'em, for the kicks he had
just administered!

From the demonstrations made by the dumb creature, there was every
reason to believe that he accepted the apology in the spirit in which it
was given!

Willem compelled Congo, who had now been thirty-six hours without food,
to mount upon his own horse; but this the Kaffir would consent to do
only on the condition that he would be allowed to take Spoor'em up along
with him.

They at once started away from the spot, and by an early hour of the
following morning reached the camp, where Hans, Arend, and the others
had remained.

Swartboy, in the joy of seeing them again, increased by the sight of the
giraffes, declared that he would never more call Congo a fool.

This promise he has never been known to break.

In the afternoon, the journey towards Graaf Reinet was resumed.
Spoor'em being carried for two or three days on the back of one of the
oxen, snugly ensconced in a large willow basket, woven by Congo for that
express purpose.



CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE.

CONCLUSION.

One evening, after a long day's journey, our adventurers found
themselves within a few miles of home.  A gallop of an hour or two,
would place them in the society of the relatives and friends from whom
they had been so long absent.  Arend and Hendrik were impatient to ride
forward, in advance of their companions.  But each refrained from making
the proposition to the other.

Greatly to their annoyance, they saw Hans and Willem halt at the house
of a boer, and commence making arrangements for passing the night.

This the two did with as little unconcern as though they were still
hundreds of miles from home.

Both Willem and Hans possessed a fair share of old-fashioned Dutch
philosophy, that told them no circumstances should hinder them from
being merciful to the animals that had served them so long and so well.

Early next morning, as the hunters passed through Graaf Reinet, on the
way to their own homes, all the inhabitants of the village turned out to
bid them welcome.

By most of the people dwelling in the place, the young giraffes were
looked upon with as much astonishment as the four Makololo felt while
gazing upon the spire of the village church.

There was not an inhabitant of the place over ten years of age who had
not heard something of the expedition on which our adventurers had set
forth some months before.  All knew the objects for which it had been
undertaken; and course the majority had prophesied another failure in
the accomplishment of what so many experienced hunters had already
failed to effect.

"We are now returning home in a respectable manner," remarked Hendrik to
the others, as he observed the enthusiastic spirit in which they were
welcomed by the people.

"Yes," answered Arend, "and it is to Willem's perseverance that we owe
all this."

"I don't know that I've displayed any great perseverance as you call
it," said Willem.  "I was as anxious as any of you to return home, but I
did not like to come back without a couple of young giraffes.  That was
all the difference between us."  The others made no reply, but rode on
silently, thinking of the generosity of their gigantic companion.

On former expeditions our adventurers had been absent even a longer
time, but never did home seem so dear to them as now, and never did they
find on their return so warm a welcome as that extended to them now.

The two young ladies, Truey Von Bloom and Wilhelmina Van Wyk, were
delighted at again meeting with their lovers, and, what is more, were
honest enough to admit that such was the case.

Congo and Swartboy endeavoured to repay themselves for the hardships of
the past, by assuming grand airs over the other servants, domestics
belonging to their masters, as also by an unusual indulgence in eating,
drinking, and sleeping.

Groot Willem had still another journey to accomplish.  It was to
accompany Hans to Cape Town on his intended trip to Europe, and to
deliver to the Dutch consul the captured camelopards.  This journey,
however, was not undertaken until he had given himself, his horses, and
giraffes a month's rest.

During this time, the Makololo were treated with the greatest kindness
by all the household of the two families to which their young friends
belonged.  Before returning to the north, each was presented with a
horse, a gun, and a suit of clothes; and several useful presents were
sent by Groot Willem to his generous friend and protector, Macora.

Previous to his departure for Europe, Hans desired to be present at two
important ceremonies that must sooner or later take place, and in which
the families of Von Bloom and Van Wyk were both more or less interested.
But Hans was impatient to set out on his intended tour, and Hendrik and
Arend were much pleased that such was the case.  Under these
circumstances, Miss Truey and Miss Wilhelmina were prevailed upon to
appoint an early day for making the two cornets the happiest of men.

The day after the double marriage, Willem and Hans started for Cape
Town,--taking with them the giraffes and the ivory they had brought from
the north.

The animals that had cost so much time and toil in procuring were
delivered to the consul, and the bounty money handed over.  The
camelopards became fellow-passengers of the young philosopher in his
voyage to Europe.

Willem parted with them and Hans as the ship was getting "under way,"
and, on the same day, started back to his distant home in Graaf Reinet.
There he still dwells, endeavouring to pass his time in peaceful
pursuits; but this endeavour he finds great difficulty in carrying
out,--partly through his own restless desire to seek new adventures, and
partly through the solicitations of young Jan and Klaas, who, stimulated
by the tales told by their elder brothers, are now keenly anxious to
relinquish the pursuit of knowledge for that of game.

Hendrik and Arend have no longer a desire to go in quest of such sport.
Home is now too dear to them; and both are satisfied to leave to their
younger brothers the pleasure of spending a few months on the far
frontier, and earning, as they so nobly did, the title of Giraffe
Hunters.





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