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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed 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 p.r.o.nounced 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 pa.s.sed 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 s.p.a.ce 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 pa.s.s, 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 hors.e.m.e.n, 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.