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.