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.