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.