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.