They rode on in silence. It was only on Hendrik expressing a doubt about

the way, that the conversation recommenced. Swartboy also thought they

were taking a wrong course.

At first Von Bloom assured them they were right; but after going a

little farther, he admitted that he was in doubt; and then, after

another half-mile's travelling, he declared that he had lost the track.

He could no longer recognise any one of the marks or bearings he had

taken.

The proper thing to be done under these circumstances was to leave the

horses to themselves; and this all three well knew. But the animals were

suffering the pangs of hunger, and when left to themselves, would not

journey forward, but rushed up to the mimosa-bushes, and eagerly

commenced devouring their leaves.

The consequence was, that their riders were obliged to keep them going

with whip and spur; and in that way there was no certainty of the horses

taking the right direction.

After several hours' advancing, all the while in a state of suspense,

and as yet no appearance of either wagon or camp-fire, the travellers

resolved upon coming to a halt. It was of no use going forward. They

believed they could not be far from the camp; but they were now as

likely to be riding from as towards it; and they concluded at length,

that it would be wiser to remain where they were until the day broke.

They all dismounted therefore, and fastened their horses to the

bushes--so that the animals could browse upon the leaves till

morning--which could not now be very far off. They rolled themselves up

in their karosses, and lay down upon the earth.

Hendrik and Swartboy were soon asleep. Von Bloom would have slept too,

for he was tired enough; but the heart of the father was too full of

anxiety to allow repose to his eyes, and he lay awake watching for the

dawn.

It came at length, and at the first light his eyes swept the surface of

the surrounding country. The party had by chance halted on an eminence

that commanded a good view for miles on each side, but the field-cornet

had not glanced half around the circle, when an object came before his

eyes that brought gladness to his heart. It was the white tent of the

wagon!

The joyful exclamation he uttered awoke the sleepers, who immediately

sprang to their feet; and all three stood gazing at the welcome sight.

As they continued to gaze, their joy gradually gave place to feelings of

surprise. Was it their wagon, after all?

It certainly looked like theirs; but it was a full half-mile off, and at

such a distance one wagon would look just like another. But what led

them to doubt its being theirs? It was the appearance of the place in

which they saw it. Surely it was not the same place in which they had

outspanned!

Theirs had been left in an oblong valley between two gentle ridges--in

such a valley was this one standing. Near a pool formed by a

spring--here, too, was the same, for they could perceive the water

shining. But in all other respects the situation was different. The

surface of the valley in which their wagon had been left was covered,

both sides and bottom, with a verdant carpet of grass; whereas the one

now before their eyes was brown and bare! Not a blade of grass was to be

seen--the trees seeming to be the only things that had any verdure. Even

the low bushes appeared to be destitute of leaves! The scene had no

resemblance whatever to that where they had outspanned. It must be the

camp of some other travellers, thought they.

They had fully arrived at this conclusion, when Swartboy, whose eyes had

been rolling about everywhere, now rested upon the ground at his feet.

After a moment's observation--which the increasing light now enabled him

to make--he turned suddenly to the others, and directed their attention

to the surface of the plain. This they saw was covered with tracks, as

if a thousand hoofs had passed over it. In fact, it presented the

appearance of a vast sheep-pen; so vast, that as far as their sight

extended, they beheld the same tracked and trampled appearance!

What could this mean? Hendrik did not know. Von Bloom was in doubt.

Swartboy could tell at the first glance. It was no new sight to him.

"All right, baas," he said, looking up in his master's face. "Da's da

ole wagon!--da same spring an vley--da same place--dar hab been um

trek-boken!"

"A trek-boken!" cried Von Bloom and Hendrik, in a breath.

"Ya, baas--a mighty big one too; das da spoor of dem antelope--See!"

Von Bloom now comprehended all. The bareness of the country, the absence

of the leaves on the lower bushes, the millions of small hoof-tracks,

all were now explained. A migration of the springbok antelope, a

"trek-boken," had swept over the spot. That it was that had caused such

a mighty change. The wagon they saw was theirs, after all.

They lost no time, but, catching their horses, bridled them, and rode

rapidly down the hill.

Though somewhat relieved at seeing the wagon, Von Bloom was still

apprehensive.

As they approached, they perceived the two horses standing beside it,

and tied to the wheels, the cow also was there--but neither goats nor

sheep were in the neighbourhood.

There was a fire burning in the rear of the hind-wheels, and a dark mass

underneath the wagon, but no human form could be observed.

The hearts of the horsemen beat loudly as they advanced. Their eyes were

bent earnestly upon the wagon. They felt keen anxiety.

They had got within three hundred yards, and still no one stirred--no

human form made its appearance. Von Bloom and Hendrik now suffered

intensely.

At this moment the two horses by the wagon neighed loudly; the dark mass

under the wagon moved, rolled outward, rose up, and stood erect. Totty

was recognised!

And now the "after-clap" of the wagon was hurriedly drawn aside, and

three young faces were seen peeping forth.

A shout of joy burst from the horsemen, and the next moment little Jan

and Trüey leaped out from the cap-tent into the arms of their

father--while the mutual congratulations of Hans and Hendrik, Swartboy

and Totty, produced for some moments a scene of joyful confusion quite

indescribable.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE TREK-BOKEN.

Those who remained by the camp had had their adventures too; and their

tale was by no means a merry one, for it disclosed the unpleasant fact,

that the sheep and goats were all lost. The flock had been carried off,

in a most singular manner; and there was but little hope of their ever

being seen again.

Hans began his tale:--

"Nothing unusual occurred on the day you left us. I was busy all the

afternoon in cutting 'wait-a-bit' thorns for a kraal. Totty helped me to

drag them up, while Jan and Trüey looked after the flock. The animals

did not stray out of the valley here, as the grass was good, and they

had had enough of trotting lately.

"Well--Totty and I got the kraal, as you see, all ready. So, when night

came, we drove the flock in; and, after milking the cow and getting our

supper, we all went to bed. We were precious tired, and all of us slept

soundly throughout the night without being disturbed. Both jackals and

hyenas came around, but we knew they would not break into that kraal."

Hans pointed to the circular enclosure of thorn-bushes, that had been

well constructed.

He then proceeded with his narration:--

"In the morning we found everything right. Totty again milked the cow;

and we had breakfast. The flock was let out upon the grass, and so were

the cow and the two horses.

"Just about mid-day I began to think what we were to have for dinner,

for the breakfast had cleared up everything. I did not like to kill

another sheep, if it could be helped. So bidding Jan and Trüey stay

close by the wagon, and leaving Totty to look after the flock, I took my

gun and started off in search of game. I took no horse, for I thought I

saw springboks out on the plain; and I would stalk them better afoot.

"Sure enough, there were springboks. When I got out of the valley here,

and had a better view, I saw what astonished me, I can assure you.

"I could scarce credit my eyes. The whole plain, towards the west,

appeared to be one vast crowd of animals; and by their bright yellow

sides, and the snow-white hair on their rumps, I knew they were

springboks. They were all in motion, some browsing along, while hundreds

of them were constantly bounding up into the air full ten feet high, and

leaping on top of each other. I assure you all it was one of the

strangest sights I ever beheld, and one of the pleasantest too; for I

knew that the creatures that covered the plain, instead of being fierce

wild beasts, were nothing but graceful and beautiful little gazelles.

"My first thought was to get near them, and have a shot; and I was about

to start off over the plain, when I perceived that the antelopes were

coming towards me. I saw that they were approaching with considerable

rapidity; and if I only remained where I was, they would save me the

trouble of stalking in upon them. I lay down behind a bush and waited.

"I had not very long to wait. In less than a quarter of an hour the

foremost of the herd drew near, and in five minutes more a score of them

were within shot.

"I did not fire for some time. I knew they would come still nearer; and

I lay watching the motions of those pretty creatures. I took notice of

their light handsome forms, their smooth slender limbs, their

cinnamon-coloured backs, and white bellies, with the band of chestnut

along each side. I looked at the lyre-shaped horns of the bucks, and

above all, at the singular flaps on their croup, that unfolded each time

that they leaped up, displaying a profusion of long silky hair, as white

as snow itself.

"All these points I noticed, and at length, tired of admiring them, I

singled out a fine-looking doe--for I was thinking of my dinner, and

knew that doe-venison was the most palatable.

"After aiming carefully, I fired. The doe fell, but, to my astonishment,

and others did not fly off. A few of the foremost only galloped back a

bit, or bounded up into the air; but they again set to browsing quite

unconcerned, and the main body advanced as before!

"I loaded as quickly as I could, and brought down another,--this time a

buck--but as before without frightening the rest!

"I proceeded to load for the third time; but, before I had finished, the

front ranks had passed on both sides of me, and I found myself in the

midst of the herd!

"I saw no need for covering myself any longer behind the bush, but rose

to my knees, and, firing at the nearest, brought it down also. Its

comrades did not pause, but ran over its body in thousands!

"I loaded again, and stood right up on my feet.

"Now for the first time it occurred to me to reflect on the strange

conduct of the springboks; for, instead of making off at my appearance,

they only bounded a little to one side, and then kept on their course.

They seemed possessed by some species of infatuation. I remembered

hearing that such was their way when upon one of their migrations, or

"trek-bokens." This, then, thought I, must be a "trek-boken."

"I was soon convinced of this, for the herd every moment grew thicker

and thicker around me, until at length they became so crowded, that I

began to feel very singularly situated. Not that I was afraid of the

creatures, as they made no demonstration of using their horns upon me.

On the contrary, they did all they could to get out of my way. But the

nearest only were alarmed; and, as my presence in no way terrified those

that were an hundred yards off, the latter made no attempt to give

ground. Of course the nearest ones could only get a few paces from me,

by pushing the others closer, or springing up over their backs--so that

with the ones thus constantly bounding up into the air there was all the

time a ring around me two deep!

"I cannot describe the strange feelings I had in this unusual situation,

or how long I might have kept my place. Perhaps I might have loaded and

fired away for some time, but just at the moment the sheep came into my

mind.

"They'll be carried away, thought I. I had heard that such a thing was

common enough.

"I saw that the antelopes were heading towards the valley--the foremost

were already into it, and would soon be on the spot, where I had just

seen our little flock feeding!

"In hopes of yet heading the springboks, and driving the sheep into the

kraal, before the former crowded on them, I started towards the valley.

But, to my chagrin, I could get no faster than the herd was going!

"As I approached the creatures, to make my way through their mass, they

leaped about and sprang over one another, but could not for their lives

open a way for me as fast as I wanted one. I was so near some of them

that I could have knocked them down with my gun!

"I commenced hallooing, and, brandishing the gun about, I was making a

lane more rapidly, when I perceived in front what appeared to be a large

open space. I pushed forward for this, but the nearer I came to its

border the more densely I found the creatures packed. I could only see

that it was an open space by leaping up. I did not know what was causing

it. I did not stay to reflect. I only wished to get forward as rapidly

as possible, thinking about our flock.

"I continued to clear my way, and at length found myself in the position

I had coveted; while the lane I had made, in getting there, closed

instantaneously behind me. I was about to rush on and take advantage of

the bit of clear ground, when, what should I see in the centre, and

directly before me, but a great yellow lion!

"That accounted for the break in the herd. Had I known what had been

causing it, I should have fought my way in any other direction but that;

but there was I, out in the open ground, the lion not ten paces from me,

and a fence of springboks two deep around both of us!

"I need not say I was frightened, and badly too. I did not for some

moments know how to act. My gun was still loaded--for, after thinking of

saving our little flock, I did not care to empty it at the antelopes. I

could get one, thought I, at any time when I had secured the sheep in

the kraal. The piece, therefore, was loaded and with bullets.

"Should I take aim at the lion, and fire? I asked myself this question,

and was just on the point of deciding in the affirmative, when I

reflected that it would be imprudent. I observed that the lion, whose

back was turned to me, had either not seen, or as yet took no notice of

me. Should I only wound him--and from the position he was in I was not

likely to do more,--how then? I would most likely be torn to pieces.

"These were my reflections, all of which scarce occupied a second of

time. I was about to "back out" or back in among the springboks, and

make my way in some other direction, and had even got near the edge,

when, in looking over my shoulder, I saw the lion suddenly halt and turn

round. I halted too, knowing that to be the safest plan; and, as I did

so, I glanced back at the lion's eyes.

"To my relief, I saw they were not upon me. He seemed to have taken some

fancy in his head. His appetite, perhaps, had returned; for the next

moment he ran a few yards, and then, rising with a terrific bound,

launched himself far into the herd, and came down right upon the back of

one of the antelopes! The others sprang right and left, and a new space

was soon opened around him.

"He was now nearer than ever to where I stood, and I could see him

distinctly crouched over his victim. His claws held its quivering body,

and his long teeth grasped the poor creature by the neck. But, with the

exception of his tail, he was making not the slightest motion, and that

vibrated gently from side to side, just as a kitten that had caught a

tiny mouse. I could see, too, that his eyes were close shut, as though

he were asleep!

"Now I had heard that under such circumstances the lion may be

approached without much danger. Not that I wished to go any nearer--for

I was near enough for my gun--but it was this recollection, I believe,

that put me in the notion of firing. At all events, something whispered

me I would succeed, and I could not resist trying.

"The broad blind jaw of the brute was fair before me. I took aim, and

pulled trigger; but, instead of waiting to see the effect of my shot, I

ran right off in an opposite direction.

"I did not halt till I had put several acres of antelopes between myself

and the place where I had last stood; and then I made the best of my way

to the wagon.

"Long before I had reached it, I could see that Jan, and Trüey, and

Totty, were safe under the tent. That gave me pleasure, but I also saw

that the sheep and goats had got mixed up with the springboks, and were

moving off with them as if they belonged to the same species! I fear

they are all lost."

"And the lion?" inquired Hendrik.

"Yonder he lies!" answered Hans, modestly pointing to a yellow mass out

upon the plain, over which the vultures were already beginning to hover.

"Yonder he lies, you could hardly have done it better yourself, brother

Hendrik."

As Hans said this, he smiled in such a manner as to show, that he had no

idea of making a boast of his achievements.

Hendrik was loud in acknowledging that it was a most splendid feat, and

also in regretting that he had not been on the ground to witness the

wonderful migration of the springboks.

But there was no time for much idle talk. Von Bloom and his party were

in a very unpleasant situation. His flocks were all gone. The cow and

horses alone remained; and for these not a blade of grass had been left

by the antelopes. Upon what were they to be fed?

To follow the spoor of the migratory springboks with the hope of

recovering their flock would be quite useless. Swartboy assured them of

this. The poor animals might be carried hundreds of miles before they

could separate themselves from the great herd, or bring their

involuntary journey to an end!

The horses could travel but little farther. There was nought to feed

them on but the leaves of the mimosas, and this was but poor food for

hungry horses. It would be fortunate if they could be kept alive until

they should reach some pasture; and where now was pasture to be found?

Locusts and antelopes between them seemed to have turned all Africa into

a desert!

The field-cornet soon formed his resolution. He would remain there for

the night, and early on the morrow set out in search of some other

spring.

Fortunately Hans had not neglected to secure a brace of the springboks;

and their fat venison now came into general use. A roast of that, and a

drink of cool water from the spring, soon refreshed the three wearied

travellers.

The horses were let loose among the mimosa-trees, and allowed to shift

for themselves; and although under ordinary circumstances they would

have "turned up their noses" at such food as mimosa-leaves, they now

turned them up in a different sense, and cleared the thorny branches

like so many giraffes.

Some naturalist as the "Buffon" school has stated that neither wolf,

fox, hyena, nor jackal, will eat the carcass of a lion,--that their fear

of the royal despot continues even after his death.

The field-cornet and his family had proof of the want of truth in this

assertion. Before many hours both jackals and hyenas attacked the

carcass of the king of beasts, and in a very short while there was not a

morsel of him there but his bones. Even his tawny skin was swallowed by

these ravenous creatures, and many of the bones broken by the strong

jaws of the hyenas. The respect which these brutes entertain for the

lion ends with his life. When dead, he is eaten by them with as much

audacity as if he were the meanest of animals.

CHAPTER XIV.

SPOORING FOR A SPRING.

Von Bloom was in the saddle at an early hour. Swartboy accompanied him,

while all the others remained by the wagon to await his return. They

took with them the two horses that had remained by the wagon, as these

were fresher than the others.

They rode nearly due westward. They were induced to take this direction

by observing that the springboks had come from the north. By heading

westward they believed they would sooner get beyond the wasted

territory.

To their great satisfaction an hour's travelling carried them clear of

the track of the antelope migration! and although they found no water,

there was excellent grass.

The field-cornet now sent Swartboy back for the other horses and the

cow, pointing out a place where he should bring them to graze, while he

himself continued on in search of water.

After travelling some miles farther, Von Bloom perceived to the north of

him a long line of cliff rising directly up from the plain, and running

westward as far as he could see. Thinking that water would be more

likely to be found near these cliffs, he turned his horse's head towards

them. As he approached nearer to their base, he was charmed with the

beautiful scenery that began to open before his eyes. He passed through

grassy plains of different sizes, separated from each other by copses of

the delicate-leaved mimosa; some of these forming large thickets, while

others consisted of only a few low bushes. Towering high over the

mimosas, grew many trees of gigantic size, and of a species Von Bloom

had never seen before. They stood thinly upon the ground; but each, with

its vast leafy head, seemed a little forest of itself.

The whole country around had a soft park-like appearance, which

contrasted well with the dark cliff that rose beyond--the latter

stepping up from the plain by a precipice of several hundred feet in

height, and seemingly as vertical as the walls of a house.

The fine landscape was gratifying to the eyes of the traveller--such a

fine country in the midst of so much barrenness; for he knew that most

of the surrounding region was little better than a wild karoo. The whole

of it to the north for hundreds of miles was a famous desert--the desert

of Kalihari--and these cliffs were a part of its southern border. The

"vee-boer" would have been rejoiced at such a sight under other

circumstances. But what to him now were all these fine pastures--now

that he was no longer able to stock them?

Notwithstanding the beauty of the scene, his reflections were painful.

But he did not give way to despair. His present troubles were

sufficiently grievous to prevent him from dwelling much on the future.

His first care was to find a place where his horses might be recruited;

for without them he could no longer move anywhere--without them he would

be helpless indeed.

Water was the desired object. If water could not be found, all this

beautiful park through which he was passing would be as valueless to him

as the brown desert.

Surely so lovely a landscape could not exist without that most essential

element!

So thought the field-cornet; and at the turning of every new grove his

eyes wandered over the ground in search of it.

"Ho!" he joyfully exclaimed as a covey of large Namaqua partridges

whirred up from his path. "A good sign that: they are seldom far from

water."

Shortly after, he saw a flock of beautiful pintados, or guinea-hens,

running into a copse. This was a still further proof that water was

nigh. But surest of all, on the top of a tall _cameel-doorn_ tree, he

next observed the brilliant plumage of a parrot.

"Now," muttered he to himself, "I must be very near to some spring or

pool."

He rode cheerfully forward: and after a little while arrived upon the

crest of an elevated ridge. Here he halted to observe the flight of the

birds.

Presently he noticed a covey of partridges flying in a westerly

direction, and shortly after, another covey going the same way. Both

appeared to alight near a gigantic tree that grew in the plain, about

five hundred yards from the bottom of the cliffs. This tree stood apart

from any of the others, and was by far the largest Von Bloom had yet

seen.

As he remained gazing at its wonderful dimensions, he observed several

pairs of parrots alighting upon it. These after chattering a while among

its branches, flew down upon the plain not far from its base.

"Surely," thought Von Bloom, "there must be water there. I shall ride

forward and see."

But his horse had scarcely waited for him to form this design. The

animal had been already dragging upon the bridle; and as soon as his

head was turned in the direction of the tree, he started forward with

outstretched neck, snorting as he rushed along.

The rider, trusting to the instinct of his horse, surrendered up the

bridle; and in less than five minutes both horse and rider were drinking

from the sweet water of a crystal fountain that gushed out within a

dozen yards of the tree.

The field-cornet would now have hastened back to the wagon: but he

thought that by allowing his horse to browse an hour or so upon the

grass, he would make the return-journey with more spirit, and in quite

as good time. He, therefore, took off the bridle, gave the animal his

liberty, while he stretched himself under the shade of the great tree.

As he lay, he could not help admiring the wonderful production of nature

that towered majestically above him. It was one of the largest trees he

had ever beheld. It was of the kind known as the "nwana" tree, a species

of _ficus_, with large sycamore-shaped leaves that grew thickly over its

magnificent head. Its trunk was full twenty feet in diameter, rising to

more than that height without a branch, and then spreading off into

numerous limbs that stretched far out in a horizontal direction. Through

the thick foliage Von Bloom could perceive shining egg-shaped fruits as

large as cocoa-nuts; and upon these the parrots and several other kinds

of birds appeared to be feeding.

Other trees of the same species stood out upon the plain at long

distances apart; and though they were all taller than the surrounding

timber, none were so large or conspicuous as the one that grew by the

spring.

The field-cornet, as he enjoyed the cool shade which its umbrageous

frondage afforded, could not help thinking what an admirable spot it

would be to build a kraal. The inmates of a dwelling placed beneath its

friendly shelter, need never dread the fierce rays of the African sun;

even the rain could scarce penetrate its leafy canopy. In fact, its

dense foliage almost constituted a roof of itself.

Had his cattle still remained to him, no doubt the vee-boer would have

resolved at once to make this spot his future home. But, tempting as it

was, what now could he do in such a place? To him it would be only a

wilderness. There was no species of industry he could follow in such a

remote quarter. True, he might sustain himself and his family by

hunting. He saw that game was plenteous all around. But that would be

but a sorry existence, with no promise for the future. What would his

children do hereafter? Were they to grow up with no other end than to

become poor hunters--no better than the wild Bushmen? No! no! no! To

make a home there would be out of the question. A few days to recruit

his wearied horses, and then he would make a struggle and trek back to

the settlements.

But what after he had got back? He knew not what then. His future was

gloomy and uncertain.

After indulging in such reflections for an hour or more, he bethought

him that it was time to return to the camp; and having caught and

bridled his horse, he mounted and set forth.

The animal, refreshed by the sweet grass and cool water, carried him

briskly along; and in less than two hours he came up with Swartboy and

Hendrik where they were pasturing the horses.

These were taken back to the wagon and harnessed in; and then the great

vehicle once more "treked" across the plains.

Before the sun had set, the long white cap-tent was gleaming under the

leafy screen of the gigantic "nwana."

CHAPTER XV.

THE TERRIBLE TSETSE.

The verdant carpet that stretched away around them--the green leaves

upon the trees--the flowers by the fountain--the crystal water in its

bed--the black bold rocks towering up at a distance--all combined to

make a lovely picture. The eyes of the wayfarers were glad as they

beheld it; and while the wagon was outspanning, every one gave utterance

to their delightful emotions.

The place seemed to please every one. Hans loved its quiet and sylvan

beauty. It was just such a place as he would choose to ramble in, book in

hand, and dream away many a pleasant hour. Hendrik liked it much,

because he had already observed what he termed "extensive spoor" about

the spot: in other words, he had noticed the tracks of many of Africa's

largest wild animals.

Little Trüey was delighted to see so many beautiful flowers. There were

bright scarlet geraniums, and starlike sweet-scented jessamines, and the

gorgeous belladonna lily, with its large blossoms of rose-colour and

white; and there were not only plants in flower, but bushes, and even

trees, covered with gaudy and sweetly-perfumed blossoms. There was the

"sugar-bush," the most beautiful of its family, with its large

cup-shaped corollas of pink, white, and green; and there, too, was the

"silver-tree" whose soft silvery leaves playing in the breeze, looked

like a huge mass of silken flowers; and there were the mimosas covered

with blossoms of golden yellow that filled the air with their strong and

agreeable perfume.

Rare forms of vegetation were around or near at hand: the arborescent

aloes, with their tall flower-spikes of coral red, and euphorbias of

many shapes; and _zamia_, with its palm-like fronds; and the soft-leaved

_Strelitzia reginæ_. All these were observed in the neighbourhood of

this new-discovered fountain.

But what received little Trüey's admiration more than any other was the

beautiful blue water-lily, which is certainly one of the loveliest of

Africa's flowers. Close by the spring, but a little farther in the

direction of the plain, was a vley, or pool--in fact, it might have been

termed a small lake--and upon the quiet bosom of its water the sky-blue

corollas lay sleeping in all their gorgeous beauty.

Trüey, leading her little pet on a string, had gone down on the bank to

look at them. She thought she could never cease gazing at such pretty

things.

"I hope papa will stay here a long time," she said to her companion,

little Jan.

"And I hope so too. Oh! Trüey, what a fine tree yon is! Look! nuts as

big as my head, I declare. Bless me, sis! how are we to knock some of

them down?"

And so the children conversed, both delighted with the new scenes around

them.

Although all the young people were inclined to be happy, yet they were

checked in their expression of it, by observing that there was a cloud

on the brow of their father. He had seated himself under the great tree,

but his eyes were upon the ground, as though he were busy with painful

reflections. All of them noticed this.

His reflections were, indeed, painful--they could not well have been

otherwise. There was but one course left for him--to return to the

settlements, and begin life anew. But how to begin it? What could he do?

His property all gone, he could only serve some of his richer

neighbours; and for one accustomed all his life to independence, this

would be hard indeed.

He looked towards his five horses, now eagerly cropping the luxuriant

grass that grew under the shadow of the cliffs. When would they be ready

to trek back again? In three or four days he might start. Fine animals,

most of them were--they would carry the wagon lightly enough.

So ran the reflections of the field-cornet. He little thought at the

moment that those horses would never draw wagon more, nor any other

vehicle. He little thought that those five noble brutes were doomed!

Yet so it was. In less than a week from that time, the jackals and

hyenas were quarrelling over their bones. Even at that very moment while

he watched them browsing, the poison was entering their veins, and their

death-wounds were being inflicted. Alas! alas! another blow awaited Von

Bloom.

The field-cornet had noticed, now and again, that the horses seemed

uneasy as they fed. At times they started suddenly, whisked their long

tails, and rubbed their heads against the bushes.

"Some fly is troubling them," thought he, and had no more uneasiness

about the matter.

It was just that--just a fly that was troubling them. Had Von Bloom

known what that fly was, he would have felt a very different concern

about his horses. Had he known the nature of that little fly, he would

have rushed up with all his boys, caught the horses in the greatest

hurry, and led them far away from those dark cliffs. But he knew not the

"tsetse" fly.

It still wanted some minutes of sunset, and the horses were permitted to

browse freely, but Von Bloom observed that they were every moment

getting more excited--now striking their hoofs upon the turf,--now

running a length or two--and at intervals snorting angrily. At the

distance they were off--a quarter of a mile or so--Von Bloom could see

nothing of what was disturbing them; but their odd behaviour at length

induced him to walk up to where they were. Hans and Hendrik went along

with him.

When they arrived near the spot, they were astonished at what they then

beheld. Each horse seemed to be encompassed by a swarm of bees!

They saw, however, they were not bees, but insects somewhat smaller, of

a brown colour, resembling gad-flies, and exceedingly active in their

flight. Thousands of them hovered above each horse, and hundreds could

be seen lighting upon the heads, necks, bodies, and legs of the

animals,--in fact, all over them. They were evidently either biting or

stinging them. No wonder the poor brutes were annoyed.

Von Bloom suggested that they should drive the horses farther out into

the plain, where these flies did not seem to haunt. He was only

concerned about the annoyance which the horses received from them.

Hendrik also pitied their sufferings; but Hans, alone of all the three,

guessed at the truth. He had read of a fatal insect that frequented some

districts in the interior of South Africa, and the first sight of these

flies aroused his suspicions that it might be they.

He communicated his thoughts to the others, who at once shared his

alarm.

"Call Swartboy hither!" said Von Bloom.

The Bushman was called, and soon made his appearance, coming up from the

spring. He had for the last hour been engaged in unpacking the wagon,

and had taken no notice of the horses or the interest they were

exciting.

As soon, however, as he got near, and saw the winged swarm whirring

around the horses, his small eyes opened to their widest extent, his

thick lips fell, and his whole face yielded itself to an expression of

amazement and alarm.

"What is it, Swart?" inquired his master.

"Mein baas! mein baas! der duyvel um da--dar skellum is da 'tsetse!'"

"And what if it be the tsetse?"

"Mein Gott!--all dead--dead--ebery horse!"

Swartboy then proceeded to explain, with a loud and continuous

"clicking," that the fly which they saw was fatal in its bite, that the

horses would surely die--sooner or later, according to the number of

stings they had already received; but, from the swarm of insects around

them, the Bushman had no doubt they had been badly stung, and a single

week would see all five of the horses dead.

"Wait, mein baas--morrow show."

And to-morrow did show; for before twelve o'clock on the next day, the

horses were swollen all over their bodies and about their heads. Their

eyes were quite closed up; they refused any longer to eat, but staggered

blindly among the luxuriant grass, every now and then expressing the

pain they felt by a low melancholy whimpering. It was plain to every one

they were going to die.

Von Bloom tried bleeding, and various other remedies; but to no purpose.

There is no cure for the bite of the tsetse fly!

CHAPTER XVI.

THE LONG-HORNED RHINOCEROS.

Great, indeed, was now the affliction of the field-cornet. Fortune

seemed to be adverse in everything. Step by step he had been sinking for

years, every year becoming poorer in worldly wealth. He had now reached

the lowest point--poverty itself. He owned nothing whatever. His horses

might be regarded as dead. The cow had escaped from the tsetse by

avoiding the cliffs, and keeping out upon the plain; and this animal now

constituted his whole live stock,--his whole property! True, he still had

his fine wagon; but of what use would that be without either oxen or

horses? a wagon without a team! Better a team without a wagon.

What could he do? How was he to escape from the position he was placed

in? To say the least, it was an awkward one--nearly two hundred miles

from any civilised settlement, and no means of getting there,--no means

except by walking; and how were his children to walk two hundred miles?

Impossible!

Across desert tracts, exposed not only to terrible fatigue, but to

hunger, thirst, and fierce carnivorous animals. It appeared impossible

that they could accomplish such a task.

And what else was there to be done? asked the field-cornet of himself.

Were they to remain there all their lives, subsisting precariously on

game and roots? Were his children to become "Bush-boys,"--himself a

Bushman?

With these reflections passing through his mind, no wonder that Von

Bloom felt deeply afflicted.

"Merciful Heaven!" he exclaimed, as he sat with his head between his

hands, "what will become of me and mine?"

Poor Von Bloom! he had reached the lowest point of his fortunes.

He had, in reality, reached the lowest point; for on that very

day,--even within that very hour--an incident occurred, that not only

gave relief to his afflicted spirit, but that promised to lay the

foundation of future wealth and prosperity. In one hour from that time

the prospects of the field-cornet had undergone a complete change,--in

one hour from that time he was a happy man, and all around him were as

happy as he!

You are impatient to hear how this change was effected? What little

fairy had sprung out of the spring, or come down from the cliffs, to

befriend the good field-cornet in his hour of misery? You are impatient

to hear! Then you shall hear.

The sun was just going down. They were all seated under the great tree,

and near a fire, upon which they had cooked their supper. There was no

talking, no cheerful conversation,--for the children saw that their

father was in trouble, and that kept them silent. Not a word passed

between them, or only an occasional whisper.

It was at this moment that Von Bloom gave utterance to his sad thoughts

in words as above.

As if seeking for an answer, his eyes were raised to heaven, and then

wandered around the plain. All at once they became fixed upon a singular

object, that appeared at some distance off, and was just emerging from

the bushes.

It was an animal of some kind, and from its vast size Von Bloom and the

others at first took it to be an elephant. None of them, except

Swartboy, were accustomed to elephants in their wild state,--for,

although these animals once inhabited the most southerly portion of

Africa, they have long since deserted the settled districts, and are now

only to be found far beyond the frontier of the colony. But they knew

that there were elephants in these parts--as they had already observed

their tracks--and all now supposed the huge creature that was

approaching must be one.

Not all, Swartboy was an exception. As soon as his eyes fell upon the

animal he cried out,--

"Chukuroo--a chukuroo!"

"A rhinoster, is it?" said Von Bloom, knowing that "chuckuroo" was the

native name for the rhinoceros, or "rhinoster," as he called it in

Dutch.

"Ya, baas," replied Swartboy; "and one o' da big karles--da, 'kobaoba,'

da long-horn white rhinoster."

What Swartboy meant by this was that the animal in question was a large

species of rhinoceros, known among the natives as the "kobaoba."

Now I dare say, young reader, you have been all your life under the

impression that there was but one species of rhinoceros in the

world--that is _the_ rhinoceros. Is it not so? Yes.

Well, permit me to inform you, that you have been under a wrong

impression. There are quite a number of distinct species of this very

singular animal. At least eight distinct kinds I know of; and I do not

hesitate to say that when the central parts of Africa have been fully

explored, as well as South Asia and the Asiatic islands, nearly half as

many more will be found to exist.

In South Africa four distinct species are well known; one in North

Africa differs from all these; while the large Indian rhinoceros bears

but slight resemblance to any of them. A distinct species from any is

the rhinoceros of Sumatra, an inhabitant of that island; and still

another is the Java rhinoceros, found in the island of Java. Thus we

have no less than eight kinds, all specifically differing from one

another.

The natives of South Africa are acquainted with four distinct species of

rhinoceros, to which they give distinct names; and it may be remarked

that this observation of species by native hunters is far more to be

depended upon than the speculations of mere closet-naturalists, who draw

their deductions from a tubercle, or the tooth, or a stuffed skin.

Gordon Cumming, for example, the most distinguished of all African

hunters has done more to increase the knowledge of African zoology than

a whole college full of "speculating" _savans_.

This same Gordon Cumming has written a most interesting account of his

hunting experiences, tells you that there are four kinds of rhinoceros

in Southern Africa; and no man is likely to know better than he.

These four kinds are known among the natives as the "borele," the

"keitloa," the "muchocho," and "kobaoba." The two first are "black

rhinoceroses,"--that is, the general colour of their skin is dark--while

the "muchocho" and "kobaoba" are white varieties, having the skin of a

dingy whitish hue. The black rhinoceroses are much smaller--scarce half

the size of the others, and they differ from them in the length and set

of their horns, as well as in other particulars.

In the form and length of their neck, the set of their ears, and other

respects, the black rhinoceroses differ materially from the white ones.

In fact, their habits are quite unlike. The former feed chiefly on the

leaves and twigs of thorns, such as the _Acacia horrida_, or

"wait-a-bits," while the latter live upon grass. The former are of

fiercer disposition--will attack man or any other animal on sight; and

even sometimes seem to grow angry with the bushes, charging upon them

and breaking them to pieces!

The white rhinoceroses, although fierce enough when wounded or provoked,

are usually of pacific disposition, and will permit the hunter to pass

without molestation.

These become very fat, and make excellent eating. The flesh of no

African animal is esteemed superior to the calf of the white rhinoceros,

whereas the black varieties never grow fat, and their flesh is tough and

unpalatable.

The hide is also used for different purposes, among others for making

the whips known as "jamboks," though hippopotamus-hide is superior.

The skin of the African rhinoceros, as already stated, is without the

plaits, folds, and scutellæ, that characterise its Asiatic congener, yet

it is far from being a soft one. It is so thick and difficult to pierce,

that a bullet of ordinary lead will sometimes flatten upon it. To ensure

its penetrating, the lead must be hardened with solder.

The rhinoceros, though not a water animal, like the hippopotamus, is

nevertheless fond of that element, and is rarely found at a great

distance from it. All four kinds love to lie and wallow in mud, just as

hogs in a summer's day; and they are usually seen coated all over with

this substance. During the day they may be observed lying down or

standing under the shade of some thick mimosa-tree, either asleep or in

a state of easy indolence; and it is during the night that they wander

about in search of food and water.

If approached from the lee side they can easily be got at, as their

small sparkling eyes do not serve them well. On the contrary, if the

hunter go to windward, they will scent him at a great distance, as their

sense of smell is most acute. If their eyes were only as keen as their

nostrils, it would be a dangerous game to attack them, for they can run

with sufficient rapidity to overtake a horse in the first charge.

In charging and running, the black variety far excels the white. They

are easily avoided, however, by the hunter springing quickly to one

side, and letting them rush blindly on.

The black rhinoceros is about six feet high at the shoulder, and full

thirteen in length; while the white kinds are far larger. The white

rhinoceros is full seven feet high, and fourteen in length!

No wonder that an animal of these extraordinary dimensions was at first

sight taken for the elephant. In fact, the kobaoba rhinoceros is the

quadruped next to the elephant in size; and with his great muzzle--full

eighteen inches broad--his long clumsy head, his vast ponderous body,

this animal impresses one with an idea of strength and massive grandeur

as great, and some say greater than the elephant himself. He looks,

indeed, like a caricature of the elephant. It was not such a bad

mistake, then, when our people by the wagon took the "kobaoba" for the

"mighty elephant."

Swartboy, however, set them all right by declaring that the animal they

saw was the white rhinoceros.

CHAPTER XVII.

A HEAVY COMBAT.

When they first saw the kobaoba, he was, as stated, just coming out of

the thicket. Without halting, he headed in the direction of the vley

already mentioned; and kept on towards it, his object evidently being to

reach the water.

This little lake, of course, owed its existence to the spring--though it

was full two hundred yards from the latter--and about the same from the

great tree. It was nearly circular in shape, and about one hundred yards

in diameter, so that its superficial area would thus be a little over

two English acres. It merited, then, the name of "lake;" and by that

name the young people already called it.

On its upper side--that in the direction of the spring--its shore was

high, and in one or two places rocky, and these rocks ran back to the

spring along the channel of a little rivulet. On the west or outer side

of the lake the land lay lower, and the water at one or two points

lipped up nearly to the level of the plain. For this reason it was, that

upon that side, the bank was paddled all over with tracks of animals

that had been to drink. Hendrik the hunter had observed among them the

footprints of many kinds he knew nothing about.

It was for the lower end of the lake the kobaoba was making--no doubt

with him an old and favourite drinking place.

There was a point where the water was easier of access than elsewhere--a

little to one side of where the wash or waste-stream of the lake ran

out. It was a sort of cove with bright sandy beach, and approachable

from the plain by a miniature gorge, hollowed out, no doubt, by the long

usage of those animals who came to drink at the vley. By entering this

cove, the tallest animals might get deep water and good bottom, so that

they could drink without much straining or stooping. The kobaoba came on

in a direct line for the lake; and as he drew near, they could see him

heading for the gorge that led into the little cove. It proved he had

been there before.

Next moment he passed through the gap, and stood knee-deep in the water.

After swallowing several copious draughts--now sneezing, and then

wheezing--he plunged his broad snout, horn and all, into the water,

tossed it till it foamed, and then lying down in it, commenced wallowing

like a hog.

The place was shallow, and most of his huge body was above the

surface--though there was deep enough water in the lake to have given

him a bath had he desired it.

The first thought of Von Bloom, as well as of Hendrik, was how to

"circumvent" the rhinoceros, and of course destroy him. Not that they

simply wished his destruction; but Swartboy had already represented what

fine food the species was, and there was no stock of provision in camp.

Hendrik had another object in wishing the death of the creature. He

wanted a new loading-rod for his rifle; and he had gazed covetously at

the kobaoba's long horn.

But it was easier to desire the death of the rhinoceros than to

accomplish it. They had no horses--at least, none that could be

mounted--and to attack the animal on foot, would be a game as dangerous

as idle. He would be like enough to impale one of them on his great

spike, or else trample them brutally under his huge feet. If he did not

do one or the other, he would easily make his escape--as any kind of

rhinoceros can outrun a man.

How were they to manage him then?

Perhaps they might get near--fire at him from an ambush, and with a

lucky shot stretch him out. A single bullet sometimes kills the

rhinoceros--but only when correctly placed, so as to penetrate the

heart, or some other of the "vitals."

This was, probably, the best plan. They might easily get near enough.

There was some bush cover close to the spot. It was probable the old

kobaoba would not perceive them, if they approached from leeward,

particularly as he seemed in the full tide of enjoyment at that moment.

They were about to attempt the approach, and had got to their feet for

that purpose, when a sudden fit seemed to have attacked Swartboy. The

latter commenced jumping over the ground, at the same time muttering in

a low voice,--

"Da klow! da klow!"

A stranger would have fancied Swartboy in a fit, but Von Bloom knew that

by "Da klow! da klow!" the Bushman meant "The elephant! the elephant!"

and therefore looked in the direction in which Swartboy was pointing.

Sure enough, upon the western plain, looming up against the yellow sky,

was a dark mass, that upon examination presented the outlines of an

elephant. Its rounded back was easily distinguished over the low bushes;

and its broad hanging ears were moving as it marched. All saw at a

glance that it was coming towards the lake, and almost in the same track

that the rhinoceros had taken.

Of course this new apparition quite disarranged the plans of the

hunters. At sight of the mighty elephant, they scarce any longer gave a

thought to the kobaoba. Not that they had formed any very great hopes of

being able to kill the gigantic animal, yet some such thought was

running through their minds. They had determined to try, at all events.

Before they could agree upon any plan, however, the elephant had got up

to the edge of the lake. Though moving only at a slow walk, with his

immense strides he soon measured off a large quantity of ground, and

advanced much more rapidly than one would have supposed. The hunters had

scarce time to exchange thoughts, before the huge creature was up within

a few yards of the water.

Here he halted, pointed his proboscis in different directions, stood

quite silent, and seemed to listen.

There was no noise to disturb him--even the kobaoba for the moment was

quiet.

After standing a minute or so, the huge creature moved forward again,

and entered the gorge already described.

They at the camp had now a full view of him, at less than three hundred

yards distant. An immense mass he seemed. His body quite filled the

gorge from side to side, and his long yellow tusks projecting more than

two yards from his jaws, curved gracefully upward. He was an "old bull,"

as Swartboy whispered.

Up to this time the rhinoceros had not had the slightest intimation of

the elephant's approach; for the tread of the latter--big beast as he

is--is as silent as a cat's. It is true that a loud rumbling noise like

distant thunder proceeded from his inside as he moved along; but the

kobaoba was in too high a caper just then to have heard or noticed any

sound that was not very near and distinct.

The huge body of the elephant coming suddenly into "his sunshine," and

flinging its dark shadow over the vley, was distinct enough, and caused

the kobaoba to get to his feet with an agility quite surprising for a

creature of his build.

At the same time a noise, something between a grunt and a whistle

escaped him, as the water was ejected from his nostrils.

The elephant also uttered his peculiar salute, in a trumpet note, that

echoed from the cliffs; and halted in his tracks as soon as he saw the

rhinoceros.

No doubt both were surprised at the rencontre; as both stood for some

seconds eyeing each other with apparent astonishment.

This, however, soon gave place to a different feeling. Symptoms of anger

began to show themselves. It was evident that bad blood was brewing

between them.

There was, in fact, a little dilemma. The elephant could not get

comfortably at the water unless the rhinoceros left the cove; and the

rhinoceros could not well get out of the cove, so long as the elephant

blocked up the gorge with his immense thick limbs.

It is true, the kobaoba might have sneaked through among the other's

legs, or he might have swum off and landed at some other point, and in

either way have left the coast clear.

But of all animals in the world a rhinoceros is, perhaps, the most

unaccommodating. He is, also, one of the most fearless, dreading neither

man nor beast--not even the boasted lion, whom he often chases like a

cat. Hence the old kobaoba had no intention of yielding ground to the

elephant; and from his attitude, it was plain that he neither intended

to sneak off under the other's belly, nor swim a single stroke for him.

No--not a stroke.

It remained to be seen how the point of honour was to be decided. The

attitude of affairs had become so interesting, that every one by the

camp was gazing with fixed eyes upon the two great bulls--for the

rhinoceros was also a "bull" and of the largest size known of his kind.

For several minutes they stood eyeing each other. The elephant, although

much the larger, knew his antagonist well. He had met his "sort" before,

and knew better than to despise his powers. Perhaps, ere now, he had had

a touch of that long spit-like excrescence that stood out from the

kobaoba's snout.

At all events, he did not rush upon his adversary at once--as he would

have done on some poor antelope that might have crossed him in the same

way.

[Illustration: A DEADLY ENCOUNTER.]

His patience, however, became exhausted. His ancient dignity was

insulted--his rule disputed--he wished to have his bath and his

drink--he could bear the insolence of the rhinoceros no longer.

With a bellow that made the rocks ring again, he charged forward; placed

his tusks firmly under the shoulder of his adversary,--gave a mighty

"lift," and turned the rhinoceros over in the water!

For a moment the latter plunged, and blowed, and snorted, his head half

under water; but in a second's time he was on his feet again, and

charging in turn. The spectators could see that he aimed right at the

elephant's ribs with his horn, and that the latter did all he could to

keep head towards him.

Again the elephant flung the kobaoba, and again the latter rose and

charged madly upon his huge antagonist; and so both fought until the

water around them was white with foam.

The contest was carried on in the water, until the elephant, seeming to

think his adversary had an advantage there, backed himself into the

gorge, and stood waiting with his head towards the lake. In this

position the sides of the gorge did not protect him, as perhaps he

fancied. They were too low, and his broad flanks rose far above them.

They only kept him from turning round, and this interfered with the

freedom of his movements.

It could scarce have been design in the rhinoceros to act as he now did,

though it appeared so to those who were watching. As the elephant took

up his position in the gorge, the kobaoba clambered out upon the bank;

and then, wheeling suddenly, with head to the ground and long horn

projected horizontally, the latter rushed upon his antagonist and struck

him right among the ribs. The spectators saw that the horn penetrated,

and the loud scream that came from the elephant, with the quick motions

of his trunk and tail, told plainly that he had received a severe wound.

Instead of standing any longer in the gorge he rushed forward, and did

not stop until he was knee-deep in the lake. Drawing the water up into

his trunk, he raised it on high, and pointing it backwards, he

discharged large volumes over his body, and upon the spot where he had

received the thrust of the kobaoba's horn.

He then ran out of the lake, and charged about in search of the

rhinoceros; but long-horn was no longer to be found!

Having escaped from the cove without compromising his dignity, and

perhaps believing that he had gained the victory, the rhinoceros, as

soon as he delivered the thrust, had galloped off and disappeared among

the bushes.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE DEATH OF THE ELEPHANT.

The battle between these two large quadrupeds did not continue for more

than ten minutes. During that time the hunters made no advance towards

attacking either of them--so much absorbed were they in watching the

novel contest. It was only after the rhinoceros had retreated, and the

elephant returned to the water, that they once more began to deliberate

on some plan of assaulting this mightiest of African animals. Hans now

laid hold of his gun and joined them.

The elephant, after looking about for his enemy, had got back, and was

standing knee-deep in the lake. He appeared restless and highly excited.

His tail was continually in motion, and at intervals he uttered a

piercing melancholy scream--far different to the usual trumpet-like

bellow of his voice. He lifted his huge limbs, and then plunged them

back again to the bottom, until the foam gathered upon the water with

his continued churning.

But the oddest of his actions was the manner in which he employed his

long tubular trunk. With this he sucked up vast volumes of water, and

then pointing it backwards ejected the fluid over his back and

shoulders, as if from an immense syringe. This shower-bath he kept

repeating time after time, though it was evident he was not at his ease.

They all knew he was angry. Swartboy said it would be exceedingly

dangerous to be seen by him at that moment, without having a horse to

gallop out of his way. On this account every one of them had concealed

themselves behind the trunk of the nwana-tree, Von Bloom peeping past

one side, and Hendrik the other, in order to watch his movements.

Notwithstanding the danger, they at length resolved to attack him. They

believed that if they did not do so soon, he would walk off, and leave

them supperless--for they had hoped to sup upon a slice of his trunk.

Time, therefore, had grown precious, and they resolved to attack him

without further ado.

They intended to creep as near as was safe. All three would fire

together, and then lie close in the bushes until they saw the effect of

their shots.

Without farther parley, Von Bloom, Hans, and Hendrik, leaving the tree,

crept through the bushes towards the western end of the lake. It was not

a continuous thicket, but only an assemblage of copses and clumps, so

that they required to steal very cautiously from one to the other. Von

Bloom led the way, while the boys kept in his tracks, following him

closely.

After some five minutes spent in this way, they got under cover of a

little clump near the water's edge, and near enough to the gigantic

game. Upon their hands and knees they now approached the verge of the

underwood; and, having parted the leaves, looked through. The mighty

quadruped was right under their eyes, within twenty yards of them!

He was still busy plunging about, and blowing volumes of water over his

body. He gave no sign that he had any suspicion of their presence. They

could take time, therefore, in choosing a part of his huge body at which

to aim their pieces.

When first seen from their new position, he was standing stern towards

them. Von Bloom did not think it a good time to fire, as they could not

give him a deadly wound in that situation. They waited, therefore, until

he might turn his side, before they should deliver their volley. They

kept their eyes all the while steadily fixed on him.

He ceased at length to "churn" with his feet, and no longer raised water

in his trunk; and now the hunters perceived that the lake was red for a

space around him! It was his blood that had reddened it.

They no longer doubted that he had been wounded by the rhinoceros; but

whether the wound was a bad one they could not tell. It was in his side,

and as yet they could only see his broad stern from the position in

which he still continued to stand. But they waited with confidence--as

they knew that in turning to get out of the water, he would have to

present his side towards them.

For several minutes he kept the same position; but they noticed that his

tail no longer switched about, and that his attitude was loose and

drooping. Now and then he turned his proboscis to the spot where he had

received the thrust of the kobaoba's horn. It was evident that the wound

was distressing him, and this became more apparent by the loud painful

breathing the creature uttered through his trunk.

The three began to grow impatient. Hendrik asked leave to creep round to

another point, and give him a shot that would turn him round.

Just at that moment the elephant made a motion, as though he was about

to come out of the water.

He had got fairly round--his head and fore-part were over dry land--the

three guns were pointed--the eyes of the three hunters were about to

glance through the sights of their pieces, when all at once he was seen

to rock and stagger,--and then roll over! With a loud plash, his vast

body subsided into the water, sending great waves to every corner of the

lake.

The hunters uncocked their guns, and, springing from their ambush,

rushed forward to the bank. They saw at a glance that the elephant was

dead. They saw the wound upon his side,--the hole made by the horn of

the rhinoceros. It was not very large, but the terrible weapon had

penetrated far into his body, into his very vitals. No wonder, then, at

the result it had produced--the death of the mightiest of quadrupeds.

As soon as it became known that the elephant was dead, everybody was

seen rushing forward to the spot. Little Trüey and Jan were called from

their hiding-place--for they had both been hidden in the wagon--and

Totty, too, went down with the rest. Swartboy was one of the first upon

the spot, carrying an axe and a large knife--for Swartboy had designs

upon the carcass--while Hans and Hendrik both threw off their jackets to

assist in the butchering operations.

And what during this time was Von Bloom about? Ha! That is a more

important question than you think for. That was an important hour--the

hour of a great crisis in the life of the field-cornet.

He was standing with folded arms on the bank of the lake, directly over

the spot where the elephant had fallen. He appeared to be wrapt in

silent meditation, his eyes bent upon the huge carcass of the animal.

No, not on the carcass. A close observer would have perceived that his

eyes did not wander over that mountain of thick skin and flesh, but were

resting upon a particular spot.

Was it the wound in the animal's side? And was Von Bloom meditating how

the thrust had caused the death of such a huge creature?

Neither one nor the other. His thoughts were upon a very different theme

from either.

The elephant had fallen so that his head was clear of the water, and

rested upon a little bank of sand; along which, his soft and limber

trunk lay extended to its full length. Curving like a pair of gigantic

scimeters from its base, were the yellow enamelled tusks; those ivory

arms that for years,--aye centuries, perhaps,--had served him to root up

the trees of the forest, and rout his antagonists in many a dread

encounter. Precious and beautiful trophies were they, but alas! their

world-wide fame had cost no less than life to many thousands of his

race.

Shining in all their magnificence lay these mated crescents, gently

curved and softly rounded. It was upon these that the eyes of the

field-cornet were bent!

Aye, and bent too with an eagerness unusual in his glance. His lips were

compressed, his chest was visibly heaving. Oh! there was a world of

thoughts passing through the mind of Von Bloom at that moment.

Were they painful thoughts? The expression of his face told the

contrary. The cloud that all that day sat perched upon his brow had

vanished. Not a trace of it remained, but in its place could be seen the

lines of hope and joy, and these feelings at length found expression in

words.

"It is the hand of Heaven!" he exclaimed aloud. "A fortune--a fortune!"

"What is it, papa?" inquired little Trüey, who was near him; "what were

you speaking about, dear papa?"

And then all the others gathered around him, noticing his excited

manner, and pleased at seeing him look so happy.

"What is it, papa?" asked all together, while Swartboy and Totty stood

eager as the rest to hear the answer.

In the pleasant excitement of his thoughts, the fond father could no

longer conceal from his children the secret of his new-born happiness.

He would gratify them by disclosing it.

Pointing to the long crescents he said,--

"You see those beautiful tusks?"

Yes, of course, they all did.

"Well, do you know their value?"

No. They knew they were worth something. They knew that it was from

elephants' tusks that ivory was obtained, or, more properly, that

elephants' tusks were ivory itself; and that it was used in the

manufacture of hundreds of articles. In fact, little Trüey had a

beautiful fan made out of it, which had been her mother's; and Jan had

a knife with an ivory handle. Ivory was a very beautiful material, and

cost very dear, they knew. All this they knew, but the value of the two

tusks they could not guess at. They said so.

"Well, my children," said Von Bloom, "as near as I can estimate them,

they are worth twenty pounds each of English money."

"Oh! oh! Such a grand sum!" cried all in a breath.

"Yes," continued the field-cornet; "I should think each tusk is one

hundred pounds in weight, and as ivory at present sells for four

shillings and sixpence the pound weight, these two would yield between

forty and fifty pounds of sterling money."

"Why, it would buy a full span of best oxen!" cried Hans.

"Four good horses!" said Hendrik.

"A whole flock of sheep!" added little Jan.

"But whom can we sell them to?" asked Hendrik, after a pause. "We are

away from the settlements. Who is to give us either oxen, or horses, or

sheep, for them? It would not be worth while to carry two tusks all the

way----"

"Not two, Hendrik," said his father interrupting him; "but twenty it

might,--aye, twice twenty, or three times that number. Now, do you

understand what makes me so gay?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Hendrik, as well as the others, who now began to

perceive what their father was so joyed about, "you think we can obtain

more tusks in these parts?"

"Precisely so. I think there are many elephants here. I feel certain of

it from the quantity of their spoor I have already noticed. We have our

guns, and fortunately, plenty of ammunition. We are all pretty fair

shots--why can we not obtain more of these valuable trophies?"

"But we shall," continued Von Bloom. "I know we shall, because I

recognise the hand of God in sending us this wealth in the midst of our

misery--after we had lost everything. More will come by the guiding of

the same hand. So be of good cheer, my children! We shall not want--we

shall yet have plenty--we may be rich!"

It was not that any of those young creatures cared much about being

rich, but because they saw their father so happy, that they broke out

into something more than a murmur of applause. It was, in fact, a cheer,

in which both Totty and Swartboy joined. It rang over the little lake,

and caused the birds about settling to roost to wonder what was going

on. There was no happier group in all Africa than stood at that moment

upon the shore of that lonely little vley.

CHAPTER XIX.

TURNED HUNTERS.

The field-cornet, then, had resolved upon turning hunter by

profession--a hunter of elephants; and it was a pleasant reflection to

think, that this occupation promised, not only exciting sport, but great

profit. He knew that it was not so easy a matter to succeed in killing

such large and valuable game as elephants. He did not suppose that in a

few weeks or months he would obtain any great quantities of their ivory

spoils; but he had made up his mind to spend even years in the pursuit.

For years he should lead the life of a Bushman--for years his sons would

be "Bush-boys," and he hoped that in time his patience and toil would be

amply rewarded.

That night around the camp-fire all were very happy and very merry. The

elephant had been left where he lay, to be cut up on the morrow. Only

his trunk had been taken off--part of which was cooked for supper.

Although all the flesh of the elephant is eatable, the trunk is esteemed

one of the delicate bits. It tastes not unlike ox-tongue; and all of

them liked it exceedingly. To Swartboy, who had made many a meal upon

"de ole klow," it was a highly-relished feast.

They had plenty of fine milk, too. The cow, now upon the best of

pasture, doubled her yield; and the quantity of this, the most delicious

of all drinks, was sufficient to give every one a large allowance.

While enjoying their new-fashioned dish of roast elephant-trunk, the

conversation naturally turned upon these animals.

Everybody knows the appearance of the elephant, therefore a description

of him is quite superfluous. But everybody does not know that there are

two distinct kinds of this gigantic quadruped--the African and Asiatic.

Until a late period they were thought to be of the same species. Now

they are acknowledged to be, not only distinct, but very different in

many respects. The Asiatic, or, as it is more frequently called, the

"Indian" elephant is the larger of the two; but it is possible that

domestication may have produced a larger kind, as is the rule with many

animals. The African species exists only in a wild state; and it would

appear that individuals of this kind have been measured having the

dimensions of the largest of the wild Asiatic elephants.

The most remarkable points of difference between the two are found in

the ears and tusks. The ears of the African elephant are of enormous

proportions, meeting each other above the shoulders, and hanging down

below the breast. Those of the Indian elephant are scarce one-third the

size. In his grand tusks the former has far the advantage--these in some

individuals weighing nearly two hundred pounds each--while the tusks of

the latter rarely reach the weight of one hundred. To this, however,

there are some exceptions. Of course a two hundred pound tusk is one of

the very largest, and far above the average even of African elephants.

In this species the females are also provided with tusks--though not of

such size as in the males--whereas the female of the Indian elephant has

either no tusks at all, or they are so small as to be scarcely

perceptible outside the skin of the lips.

In Africa the elephant exists only in a state of nature. None of the

nations upon this little-known continent tame or train him to any

purpose. He is only prized among them for his precious teeth, and his

flesh as well. Some have asserted that this species is more fierce than

its Indian congener, and could not be domesticated. This is altogether a

mistake. The reason why the African elephant is not trained, is simply

that none of the modern nations of Africa have yet reached a high enough

point of civilisation to avail themselves of the services of this

valuable animal.

The African elephant may be domesticated and trained to the "howdah," or

castle, as easily as his Indian cousin. The trial has been made; but

that it can be done no better proof is required than that at one period

it was done, and upon a large scale. The elephants of the Carthaginian

army were of this species.

The African elephant at present inhabits the central and southern parts

of Africa. Abyssinia on the east, and Senegal on the west, are his

northern limits, and but a few years ago he roamed southward to the very

Cape of Good Hope. The activity of the Dutch ivory-hunters, with their

enormous long guns, has driven him from that quarter; and he is no

longer to be found to the south of the Orange River.

Swartboy spoke of a variety well known among the Hottentot hunters as

the "koes-cops." This kind, he said, differed from the ordinary ones by

its altogether wanting the tusks, and being of a far more vicious

disposition. Its encounter is more dreaded; but as it possesses no

trophies to make it worth the trouble and danger of killing, the hunters

usually give it a wide berth.

Such was the conversation that night around the camp-fire. Much of the

information here given was furnished by Hans, who of course had gathered

it from books; but the Bushman contributed his quota--perhaps of a far

more reliable character.

All were destined ere long to make practical acquaintance with the

haunts and habits of this huge quadruped, that to them had now become

the most interesting of all the animal creation.

CHAPTER XX.

JERKING AN ELEPHANT.

Next day was one of severe, but joyful labour. It was spent in "curing"

the elephant, not in a medical sense, but in the language of the

provision-store.

Although not equal to either beef or mutton, or even pork, the flesh of

the elephant is sufficiently palatable to be eaten. There is no reason

why it should not be, for the animal is a clean feeder, and lives

altogether on vegetable substances--the leaves and tender shoots of

trees, with several species of bulbous roots, which he well knows how to

extract from the ground with his tusks and trunk. It does not follow

from this that his beef should be well tasted--since we see that the

hog, one of the most unclean of feeders, yields most delicious "pork;"

while another of the same family (_pachydermata_) that subsists only on

sweet succulent roots, produces a flesh both insipid and bitter. I

allude to the South American tapir. The quality of the food, therefore,

is no criterion of the quality of the flesh.

It is true that the beef of the elephant was not what Von Bloom and most

of his family would have chosen for their regular diet. Had they been

sure of procuring a supply of antelope-venison, the great carcass might

have gone, not to the "dogs," but to their kindred the hyenas. But they

were not sure of getting even a single antelope, and therefore decided

upon "curing" the elephant. It would be a safe stock to have on hand,

and need not interfere with their eating venison, or any other dainty

that might turn up.

The first thing done was to cut out the tusks. This proved a tough job,

and occupied full two hours. Fortunately there was a good axe on hand.

But for this and Swartboy's knowledge, double the time might have been

wasted in the operation.

The ivory having been extracted and put away in a safe place, the

"cutting up" then commenced in earnest. Von Bloom and Swartboy were the

"baas-butchers," while Hans and Hendrik played the part of "swabs." As

the carcass lay half under water, they would have had some difficulty in

dealing with the under part. But this they did not design to touch. The

upper half would be amply sufficient to provision them a long while; and

so they set about removing the skin from that side that was uppermost.

The rough thick outer coat they removed in broad sheets cut into

sections; and then they peeled off several coats of an under skin, of

tough and pliant nature. Had they needed water-vessels, Swartboy would

have saved this for making them--as it is used for such purposes by the

Bushmen and other natives. But they had vessels enough in the wagon, and

this skin was thrown away.

They had now reached the pure flesh, which they separated in large

sheets from the ribs; and then the ribs were cut out, one by one, with

the axe. This trouble they would not have taken--as they did not want

the ribs--but they cut them away for another reason, namely, to enable

them to get at the valuable fat, which lies in enormous quantities

around the intestines. Of course for all cooking purposes, the fat would

be to them invaluable, and indeed almost necessary to render the flesh

itself eatable.

It is no easy matter to get at the fat in the inside of an elephant, as

the whole of the intestines have first to be removed. But Swartboy was

not to be deterred by a little trouble; so climbing into the interior of

the huge carcass, he commenced cutting and delving, and every now and

then passing a multitude of "inwards" out to the others, who carried

them off out of the way.

After a long spell of this work, the fat was secured, and carefully

packed in a piece of clean under-skin; and then the "butchering" was

finished.

Of course the four feet, which along with the trunk are considered the

"tit-bits," had already been separated at the fetlock joint; and stood

out upon the bank, for the future consideration of Swartboy.

The next thing to be done was to "cure" the meat. They had a stock of

salt--that precious, though, as lately discovered, not indispensable

article. But the quantity--stowed away in a dry corner of the wagon--was

small, and would have gone but a short way in curing an elephant.

They had no idea of using it for such a purpose. Flesh can be preserved

without salt; and not only Swartboy, but Von Bloom himself, knew how to

preserve it. In all countries where salt is scarce, the process of

"jerking" meat is well understood, and consists simply in cutting it

into thin strips and hanging it out in the sun. A few days of bright

warm sunshine will "jerk" it sufficiently; and meat thus dried will keep

good for months. A slow fire will answer the purpose nearly as well; and

in the absence of sunshine, the fire is often resorted to.

Sun-dried meat in South Africa is called "biltongue." The Spaniards of

Mexico name it "tasajo," while those of Peru style it "charqui." In

English it is "jerked" meat.

Several hours were spent in cutting the elephant-beef into strips, and

then a number of forked poles were set up, others were laid horizontally

over the forks, and upon these the meat was suspended, and hung down in

numberless festoons.

Before the sun went down, the neighbourhood of the camp presented a rare

appearance. It looked somewhat like the enclosure of a yarn-bleacher,

except that the hanging strips, instead of being white, were of a

beautiful clear ruby colour.

But the work was not yet completed. The feet remained to be "preserved,"

and the mode of curing these was entirely different. That was a secret

known only by Swartboy, and in the execution of it the Bushman played

first fiddle, with the important air of a _chef de cuisine_.

He proceeded as follows:--

He first dug a hole in the ground, about two feet deep, and a little

more in diameter--just large enough to admit one of the feet, which was

nearly two feet diameter at the base. The earth which came out of this

hole Swartboy placed in the form of a loose embankment around the edge.

By his direction the boys had already collected upon the spot a large

quantity of dried branches and logs. These Swartboy now built over the

hole, into a pyramid of ten feet high, and then set the pile on fire. He

next proceeded to make three other pits precisely similar, and built

over each a fire like the first, until four large fires were burning

upon the ground.

The fires being now fairly under way, he could only wait until each had

burned down. This would carry the process into the night, and so it

turned out; but Swartboy had a foresight of this. He knew he would get

through with the more important portion of his work before bedtime.

When the first fire had burned quite to red cinders, Swartboy's hardest

turn of duty began. With a shovel he lifted the cinders out of the hole,

until it was empty; but he was more than an hour in performing this

apparently simple labour. The difficulty arose from the intense heat he

had to encounter, which drove him back after every few moments' work; so

that he was compelled to retreat at intervals in order to cool himself.

The "baas," as well as Hendrik and Hans, took turns with him, until all

four were perspiring as if they had been shut up for half-an-hour in a

baker's oven.

When the hole was thoroughly scooped clean of coals, Swartboy, assisted

by Von Bloom, lifted one of the huge feet; and, carrying it as near as

they dare go on account of the scorching heat, they heaved it in upon

its base.

The sandy earth which had been originally removed, and which was now as

hot as molten lead, was pushed over, and around the foot; and then the

cinders were raked on top, and over that another huge fire was kindled.

The same process was gone through with the other three feet, and all

four were to be left in the "oven" until the fires should be burned

down, when they would be found sufficiently "baked."

Swartboy would then rake off the cinders, take out the feet with a sharp

wooden spit, beat them well to get rid of the dust, scrape the sand

clear, then pare off the outside skin, when they would be ready either

to be eaten or would keep for a long time.

Swartboy would do all this as soon as the four huge bonfires should burn

down.

But that would not be before the morning; so all of them, fatigued by

the extraordinary exertions of the day, finished their suppers of

broiled trunk, and went to rest under the protecting shadow of the

nwana.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE HIDEOUS HYENA.

Fatigued as they were, they would soon have fallen asleep. But they were

not permitted to do so. As they lay with closed eyes in that half-dreamy

state that precedes sleep, they were suddenly startled by strange voices

near the camp.

These voices were uttered in peals of loud laughter; and no one,

unacquainted with them, would have pronounced them to be anything else

than the voices of human beings. They exactly resembled the strong

treble produced by the laugh of a maniac negro. It seemed as if some

Bedlam of negroes had been let loose, and were approaching the spot.

I say approaching, because each moment the sounds grew clearer and

louder; and it was evident that whatever gave utterance to them was

coming nearer to the camp.

That there was more than one creature was evident--aye, and it was

equally evident that there was more than one kind of creature; for so

varied were the voices, it would have puzzled a ventriloquist to have

given imitations of them all. There was howling, and whining, and

grunting, and growling, and low melancholy moaning as of some one in

pain, and hissing, and chattering, and short, sharp intonations, as if

it were the barking of dogs, and then a moment or two of deep silence,

and again that chorus of human-like laughter, that in point of horror

and hideous suggestions surpassed all the other sounds.

You will suppose that such a wild concert must have put the camp in a

state of great alarm. Not a bit of it. Nobody was frightened in the

least--not even innocent little Trüey, nor the diminutive Jan.

Had they been strangers to these sounds, no doubt they would have been

more than frightened. They would have been terrified by them; for they

were calculated to produce such an effect upon any one to whose ears

they were new.

But Von Bloom and his family had lived too long upon the wild karoo to

be ignorant of those voices. In the howling, and chattering, and

yelping, they heard but the cries of the jackal; and they well knew the

maniac laugh of the hideous hyena.

Instead of being alarmed, and springing from their beds, they lay still

and listened--not dreading any attack from the noisy creatures.

Von Bloom and the children slept in the wagon; Swartboy and Totty upon

the ground--but these lay close to the fires, and therefore did not fear

wild beasts of any kind.

But the hyenas and jackals upon this occasion appeared to be both

numerous and bold. In a few minutes after they were first heard, their

cries rose around the camp on all sides, so near and so loud as to be

positively disagreeable--even without considering the nature of the

brutes that uttered them.

At last they came so close, that it was impossible to look in any

direction without seeing a pair of green or red eyes gleaming under the

light of the fires! White teeth, too, could be observed, as the hyenas

opened their jaws, to give utterance to their harsh laughter.

With such a sight before their eyes, and such sounds ringing in their

ears, neither Von Bloom nor any of his people--tired as they were--could

go to sleep. Indeed, not only was sleep out of the question, but, worse

than that, all--the field-cornet himself not excepted--began to

experience some feelings of apprehension, if not actual alarm.

They had never beheld a troop of hyenas so numerous and fierce. There

could not be less than two dozen of them around the camp, with twice

that number of jackals.

Von Bloom knew that although, under ordinary circumstances, the hyena is

not a dangerous animal, yet there are places and times when he will

attack human beings. Swartboy knew this well, and Hans, too, from having

read of it. No wonder, then, that some apprehension was felt by all of

them.

The hyenas now behaved with such boldness, and appeared so ravenous,

that sleep was out of the question. Some demonstration must be made to

drive the brutes away from the camp.

Von Bloom, Hans, and Hendrik, laid hold of their guns, and got out of

the wagon, while Swartboy armed himself with his bow and arrows. All

four stood close by the trunk of the nwana, on the other side from that

where the fires were. In this place they were in the shadow, where they

could best observe anything that should come under the light of the

fires without being themselves seen. Their position was well chosen.

They had scarcely fixed themselves in it, when they perceived a great

piece of neglect they had been guilty of. Now, for the first time it

occurred to them what had brought the hyenas around them in such

numbers. Beyond a doubt it was the flesh of the elephant,--the

_biltongue_.

That was what the beasts were after; and all now saw that a mistake had

been committed in hanging the meat too low. The hyenas might easily get

at it.

This was soon made manifest; for, even at the moment while they stood

watching the red festoons, plainly visible under the light of Swartboy's

fires, a shaggy spotted brute rushed forward, reared up on his

hind-legs, seized one of the pieces, dragged it down from the pole, and

then ran off with it into the darkness.

A rushing sound could be heard as the others joined him to get a share

of his plunder; and, no doubt, in less than half a minute the morsel was

consumed; for, at the end of that time, glancing eyes and gleaming teeth

showed that the whole troop was back again and ready to make a fresh

seizure.

None of the hunters had fired, as the nimbleness with which the brutes

moved about rendered it difficult to take aim at any one of them; and

all knew that powder and lead were too precious to be wasted on a

"flying shot."

Emboldened by their success, the hyenas had now drawn nearer, and in a

moment more would have made a general charge upon the scaffolds of

flesh, and, no doubt, would have succeeded in carrying off a large

quantity of it. But just then it occurred to Von Bloom that it would be

best to lay aside their guns and remedy the mistake they had made, by

putting the biltongue out of reach. If they did not do so, they would

either have to remain awake all night and guard it, or else lose every

string of it.

How was it to be put out of reach?

At first they thought of collecting it into a heap and stowing it away

in the wagon. That would not only be an unpleasant job, but it would

interfere with their sleeping quarters.

An alternative, however, presented itself. They saw that if the

scaffolds were only high enough, the meat might be easily hung so as to

be out of reach of the hyenas. The only question was, how to place the

cross-poles a little higher. In the darkness they could not obtain a new

set of uprights, and therein lay the difficulty. How were they to get

over it?

Hans had the credit of suggesting a way; and that was to take out some

of the uprights, splice them to the others, with the forked ends

uppermost, and then rest the horizontal poles on the upper forks. That

would give a scaffold tall enough to hang the meat beyond the reach of

either jackals or hyenas.

Hans' suggestion was at once adopted. Half of the uprights were taken up

and spliced against the others so as to raise their forks full twelve

feet in the air; and then the cross-poles were rested over their tops.

By standing upon one of the wagon-chests, Von Bloom was able to fling

the strips of meat over the horizontal poles, and in such a manner that

it hung only a few inches down, and was now quite beyond the reach of

the ravenous brutes.

When the business was finished, the party resumed their station under

the shadow of the tree, intending to watch for a while, and see how the

wolfish intruders would act.

They had not long to watch. In less than five minutes the troop

approached the biltongue, howling, and gibbering, as before; only this

time uttering peculiar cries, as if to express disappointment. They saw

at a glance that the tempting festoons were no longer within their

reach.

They were not going to leave the ground, however, without assuring

themselves of this fact; and several of the largest approached boldly

under the scaffolds, and commenced leaping up to try the height.

After several attempts, springing each time as high as they were able,

they appeared to grow discouraged; and no doubt would in time have

imitated the fox with the grapes, and gone quietly away. But Von Bloom,

indignant at being roused after such a fashion, from his pleasant rest,

was determined to take some revenge upon his tormentors; so he whispered

the word to the others, and a volley was delivered from behind the tree.

The unexpected discharge caused a quick scattering of both hyenas and

jackals, and the pattering of their numerous feet could be heard as they

ran off. When the ground under the scaffold was examined, two of the

larger of these ravenous quadrupeds, and one of the smaller, were found

to have bitten the dust.

Swartboy had discharged his arrow along with the guns, and it was he

that had slain the jackal, for the poisoned shaft was seen sticking

between the animal's ribs.

The guns were again loaded, the party took their stations as before;

but, although they waited another half-hour, neither hyena nor jackal

made their appearance.

They had not gone far away, however, as their wild music testified; but

the reason they did not return was, that they had now discovered the

half carcass of the elephant that lay in the lake, and upon that they

were making their supper. Their plunging in the water could be

distinctly heard from the camp, and during the whole night they

quarrelled and growled, and laughed and yelled, as they gorged

themselves on their ample prey.

Of course Von Bloom and his people did not sit up all night to listen to

this medley of noises. As soon as they perceived that the brutes were

not likely to come any more near the camp, they laid aside their

weapons, returned to their respective sleeping-places, and were all soon

buried in the sweet slumber that follows a day of healthy exercise.

CHAPTER XXII.

STALKING THE OUREBI.

Next morning the hyenas and jackals had disappeared from the scene, and,

to the surprise of all, not a particle of flesh was left upon the bones

of the elephant. There lay the huge skeleton picked clean, the bones

even polished white by the rough tongues of the hyenas. Nay, still

stranger to relate, two of the horses--these poor brutes had been long

since left to themselves,--had been pulled down during the night, and

their skeletons lay at a short distance from the camp as cleanly picked

as that of the elephant!

All this was evidence of the great number of ravenous creatures that

must have their home in that quarter,--evidence, too, that game animals

abounded, for where these are not numerous the beasts of prey cannot

exist. Indeed, from the quantity of tracks that were seen upon the

shores of the vley, it was evident that animals of various kinds had

drunk there during the night. There was the round solid hoof of the

quagga, and his near congener the dauw; and there was the neat hoofprint

of the gemsbok, and the larger track of the eland; and among these Von

Bloom did not fail to notice the spoor of the dreaded lion. Although

they had not heard his roaring that night, they had no doubt that there

were plenty of his kind in that part of the country. The presence of his

favourite prey,--the quaggas, the gemsboks, and the elands,--were sure

indications that the king of beasts was not far off.

Not much work was done that day. The heavy labour of curing the

biltongue, that had occupied them the whole of the preceding day, and

their disturbed rest, had rendered them all listless; and neither Von

Bloom nor the others had any inclination for work. So they moved around

the camp and did very little.

Swartboy took his elephant's feet from the oven, and cleaned them; and

also let down the biltongue and arranged it so as to be better exposed

to the sun. Von Bloom himself shot the three remaining horses, having

driven them to a good distance from the camp. He did this to put an end

to the suffering of the poor brutes,--for it was plain to every one that

they could survive but a day or two longer; and to send a bullet through

the heart of each was an act of mercy to them.

Out of all the live stock of the field-cornet, the cow alone remained,

and she was now tended with the greatest care. Without the precious

milk, which she yielded in such quantity, their diet would have been

savage enough; and they fully appreciated the service she rendered them.

Each day she was driven out to the best pasture, and at night shut up in

a safe kraal of wait-a-bit thorns, that had been built for her at a

little distance from the tree. These thorns had been placed in such a

manner that their shanks all radiated inward, while the bushy tops were

turned out, forming a _chevaux-de-frise_, that scarce any animal would

have attempted to get through. Such a fence will turn even the lion,

unless when he has been rendered fierce and reckless by provocation.

Of course a gap had been left for the cow to pass in and out, and this

was closed by one immense bush, which served all the purpose of a gate.

Such was the kraal of "old Graaf." Besides the cow, the only living

thing that remained in camp was Trüey's little pet, the fawn of the

gazelle.

But on that very day another pet was added, a dear little creature, not

less beautiful than the springbok, and of still more diminutive

proportions. That was the fawn of an "ourebi,"--one of the elegant

little antelopes that are found in such variety over the plains and in

the "bush" of Southern Africa.

It was to Hendrik they were indebted not only for this pet, but for a

dinner of delicate venison, which they had that day eaten, and which all

of them, except Swartboy, preferred to elephant beef. Hendrik had

procured the venison by a shot from his rifle, and in the following

manner.

About mid-day he went out--having fancied that upon a large grassy

meadow near the camp he saw some animal. After walking about

half-a-mile, and keeping among bushes, around the edge of the meadow, he

got near enough to be sure that it was an animal he had observed,--for

he now saw two in the place he had marked.

They were of a kind he had not met with before. They were very small

creatures,--smaller even than springboks,--but, from their general form

and appearance, Hendrik knew they were either antelopes or deer; and, as

Hans had told him there were no deer in Southern Africa, he concluded

they must be some species of antelope. They were a buck and doe,--this

he knew because one of them only carried horns. The buck was under two

feet in height, of slender make, and pale tawny colour. He was

white-bellied, with white arches above the eyes, and some long white

hair under the throat. Below his knees were yellowish tufts of long

hair; and his horns--instead of being lyrate, like those of the

springbok--rose nearly vertical to the height of four inches. They were

black in colour, round-shaped, and slightly ringed. The doe was without

horns, and was a much smaller animal than her mate.

From all these marks Hendrik thought the little antelopes were

"ourebis;" and such they were.

He continued to stalk in upon them, until he was as close as he could

get. But he was still more than two hundred yards from them, and of

course far from being within shooting distance with his small rifle.

A thick _jong dora_ bush concealed him, but he dared not go farther else

the game would have taken the alarm. He could perceive that they were

shy creatures.

Every now and again the buck would raise his graceful neck to its full

stretch, utter a slight bleating call, and look suspiciously around him.

From these symptoms Hendrik drew the inference that it was shy game, and

would not be easily approached.

He lay for a moment, thinking what he should do. He was to leeward of

the game, as he had purposely gone there; but after a while, to his

chagrin, he saw that they were feeding up the wind, and of course

widening the distance between them and himself.

It occurred to Hendrik that it might be their habit to browse up the

wind, as springboks and some other species do. If so, he might as well

give it up, or else make a long circuit and head them. To do this would

be a work of labour and of time, and a very uncertain stalk it would be

in the end. After all his long tramping, and creeping, and crouching,

the game would be like enough to scent him before they came within

shot--for it is for this very reason that their instinct teaches them to

browse against, and not with the wind.

As the plain was large, and the cover very distant, Hendrik was

discouraged and gave up the design he had half formed of trying to head

them.

He was about to rise to his feet, and return home, when it occurred to

him that perhaps he might find a decoy available. He knew there were

several species of antelopes, with whom curiosity was stronger than

fear. He had often lured the springbok within reach. Why would not these

obey the same impulse?

He determined to make trial. At the worst he could only fail, and he had

no chance of getting a shot otherwise.

Without losing a moment he thrust his hand into his pocket. He should

have found there a large red handkerchief, which he had more than once

used for a similar purpose. To his chagrin it was not there!

He dived into both pockets of his jacket, then into his wide trousers,

then under the breast of his waistcoat. No. The handkerchief was not to

be found. Alas! it had been left in the wagon! It was very annoying.

What else could he make use of? Take off his jacket and hold it up? It

was not gay enough in colour. It would not do.

Should he raise his hat upon the end of his gun? That might be better,

but still it would look too much like the human form, and Hendrik knew

that all animals feared that.

A happy thought at length occurred to him. He had heard, that with the

curious antelopes, strange forms or movements attract almost as much as

glaring colours. He remembered a trick that was said to be practised

with success by the hunters. It was easy enough, and consisted merely in

the hunter standing upon his hands and head, and kicking his heels in

the air!

Now Hendrik happened to be one of those very boys who had often

practised this little bit of gymnastics for amusement and he could stand

upon his head like an acrobat.

Without losing a moment he placed his rifle upon the ground, between his

hands, and hoisting his feet into the air, commenced kicking them about,

clinking them together, and crossing them in the most fantastic manner.

He had placed himself so that his face was turned towards the animals,

while he stood upon his head. Of course he could not see them while in

this position, as the grass was a foot high; but, at intervals, he

permitted his feet to descend to the earth; and then, by looking between

his legs, he could tell how the ruse was succeeding.

It did succeed. The buck, on first perceiving the strange object,

uttered a sharp whistle, and darted off with the swiftness of a

bird--for the "ourebi" is one of the swiftest of African antelopes. The

doe followed, though not so fast, and soon fell into the rear.

The buck, perceiving this, suddenly halted--as if ashamed of his want of

gallantry--wheeled round, and galloped back, until he was once more

between the doe and the odd thing that had alarmed him.

What could this odd thing be? he now seemed to inquire of himself. It

was not a lion, nor a leopard, nor a hyena, nor yet a jackal. It was

neither fox, nor fennec, nor earth-wolf, nor wild hound, nor any of his

well-known enemies. It was not a Bushman neither, for they are not

double-headed as it appeared. What could it be? It had kept its

place--it had not pursued him. Perhaps it was not at all dangerous. No

doubt it was harmless enough.

So reasoned the ourebi. His curiosity overcame his fear. He would go a

little nearer. He would have a better view of the thing before he took

to flight. No matter what it was, it could do no hurt at that distance;

and as to overtaking him, pah! there wasn't a creature, biped or

quadruped in all Africa that he could not fling dust in the face of.

So he went a little nearer, and then a little nearer still, and

continued to advance by successive runs, now this way and now that way,

zigzagging over the plain, until he was within less than a hundred paces

of the odd object that at first sight had so terrified him.

[Illustration: HENDRIK DECOYING THE OUREBIS.]

His companion, the doe, kept close after him; and seemed quite as

curious as himself--her large shining eyes opened to their full extent,

as she stopped to gaze at intervals.

Sometimes the two met each other in their course; and halted a moment,

as though they held consultation in whispers; and asked each other if

they had yet made out the character of the stranger.

It was evident, however, that neither had done so--as they still

continued to approach it with looks and gestures of inquiry and wonder.

At length the odd object disappeared for a moment under the grass; and

then reappeared--but this time in an altered form. Something about it

glanced brightly under the sun, and this glancing quite fascinated the

buck, so that he could not stir from the spot, but stood eyeing it

steadily.

Fatal fascination! It was his last gaze. A bright flash shot

up--something struck him through the heart, and he saw the shining

object no more!

The doe bounded forward to where her mate had fallen, and stood bleating

over him. She knew not the cause of his sudden death, but she saw that

he was dead. The wound in his side--the stream of red blood--were under

her eyes. She had never witnessed death in that form before, but she

knew her lover was dead. His silence--his form stretched along the grass

motionless and limber--his glassy eyes--all told her he had ceased to

live.

She would have fled, but she could not leave him--she could not bear to

part even from his lifeless form. She would remain a while, and mourn

over him.

Her widowhood was a short one. Again flashed the priming,--again cracked

the shining tube--and the sorrowing doe fell over upon the body of her

mate.

The young hunter rose to his feet, and ran forward. He did not,

according to usual custom, stop to load before approaching his quarry.

The plain was perfectly level, and he saw no other animal upon it. What

was his surprise on reaching the antelopes, to perceive that there was a

third one of the party still alive!

Yes, a little fawn, not taller than a rabbit, was bounding about through

the grass, running around the prostrate body of its mother, and uttering

its tiny bleat.

Hendrik was surprised, because he had not observed this creature before;

but, indeed, he had not seen much of the antelopes until the moment of

taking aim, and the grass had concealed the tiny young one.

Hunter as Hendrik was, he could not help feeling strongly as he regarded

the _tableau_ before him. But he felt that he had not wantonly destroyed

these creatures for mere amusement, and that satisfied his conscience.

The little fawn would make a famous pet for Jan, who had often wished

for one, to be equal with his sister. It could be fed upon the cow's

milk, and, though it had lost both father and mother, Hendrik resolved

that it should be carefully brought up. He had no difficulty in

capturing it, as it refused to leave the spot where its mother lay, and

Hendrik soon held the gentle creature in his arms.

He then tied the buck and doe together; and, having fastened a strong

cord round the horns of the latter, he set off dragging the two

antelopes behind him.

As these lay upon the ground, heads foremost, they were drawn with the

grain of the hair, which made it much easier; and as there was nothing

but grass sward to be passed over, the young hunter succeeded in taking

the whole of his game to camp without any great difficulty.

The joy of all was great, at seeing such a fine lot of venison, but

Jan's rejoicing was greater than all; and he no longer envied Trüey the

possession of her little gazelle.

CHAPTER XXIII.

LITTLE JAN'S ADVENTURE.

It would have been better that Jan had never seen the little

"ourebi,"--better both for Jan and the antelope, for that night the

innocent creature was the cause of a terrible panic in the camp.

They had all gone to sleep as on the previous night,--Von Bloom and the

four children in the wagon, while the Bushman and Totty slept upon the

grass. The latter lay under the wagon; but Swartboy had kindled a large

fire a little distance from it, and beside this had stretched himself,

rolled up in his sheep-skin kaross.

They had all gone to sleep without being disturbed by the hyenas. This

was easily accounted for. The three horses that had been shot that day

occupied the attention of these gentry, for their hideous voices could

be heard off in the direction where the carcasses lay. Having enough to

give them a supper, they found no occasion to risk themselves in the

neighbourhood of the camp, where they had experienced such a hostile

reception on the previous night. So reasoned Von Bloom, as he turned

over and fell asleep.

He did not reason correctly, however. It was true that the hyenas were

just then making a meal upon the horses; but it was a mistake to suppose

that that would satisfy these ravenous brutes, who never seem to have

enough. Long before morning, had Von Bloom been awake he would have

heard the maniac laugh closer to the camp, and might have seen the green

eyes of the hyena glancing under the expiring blaze of Swartboy's

camp-fire.

Indeed, he had heard the beasts once that he awoke; but, knowing that

the biltongue had been this night placed out of their reach, and

thinking that there was nothing to which they could do any harm, he gave

no heed to their noisy demonstrations, and went to sleep again.

He was awakened, however, by a shrill squeak, as of some animal in the

agonies of death; and then there was a second squeak, that seemed to be

suddenly interrupted by the stifling of the creature's utterance!

In these cries Von Bloom, as well as the others--who were now also

awake--recognised the bleat of the ourebi, for they had heard it several

times during the afternoon.

"The hyenas are killing it!" thought they. But they had not time to say

so, before another and far different cry reached their ears, and caused

them all to start as if a bomb-shell had burst under the wagon. That cry

was the voice of Jan, and sounded in the same direction whence came the

scream of the stifled antelope!

"O heaven! what could it mean?"

The child's voice first reached them in a sudden screech--then there was

a confused noise resembling a scuffle--and Jan was again heard crying

aloud for help, while at the same time his voice was interrupted, and

each call appeared to come from a greater distance! Something or

somebody was carrying him off!

This idea occurred to Von Bloom, Hans, and Hendrik, at the same instant.

Of course it filled them with consternation; and, as they were scarce

yet awake, they knew not what to do.

The cries of Jan, however, soon brought them to their senses; and to run

towards the direction whence these came was the first thought of all.

To grope for their guns would waste time, and all three leaped out of

the wagon without them.

Totty was upon her feet and jabbering, but she knew no more than they

what had happened.

They did not stop long to question her. The voice of Swartboy, uttered

in loud barks and clicks, summoned them elsewhere; and they now beheld a

red flaming brand rushing through the darkness, which no doubt was

carried in the hands of that worthy.

They started off in the direction of the blazing torch, and ran as fast

as they could. They still heard the Bushman's voice, and to their dismay

beyond it the screams of little Jan.

Of course they could not tell what was causing all this. They only

pressed on with fearful apprehensions.

When they had got within some fifty paces of the torch, they perceived

it suddenly descend, then raised again, and brought down, in a rapid and

violent manner! They could hear the voice of the Bushman barking and

clicking louder than ever, as though he was engaged in chastising some

creature.

But Jan's voice they no longer heard--he was screaming no more--was he

dead?

With terrible forebodings they rushed on.

When they arrived upon the spot, a singular picture presented itself to

their eyes. Jan lay upon the ground, close in by the roots of some

bushes which he was holding tightly in his grasp. From one of his wrists

extended a stout thong, or _rheim_, which passed through among the

bushes to the distance of several feet; and, fast to its other end, was

the ourebi fawn, dead, and terribly mangled! Over the spot stood

Swartboy with his burning tree, which blazed all the brighter that he

had just been using it over the back of a ravenous hyena. The latter was

not in sight. It had long since skulked off, but no one thought of

pursuit, as all were too anxious about Jan.

No time was lost in lifting the child to his feet. The eyes of all ran

eagerly over him to see where he was wounded; and an exclamation of joy

soon broke forth when they saw that, except the scratches of the thorns,

and the deep track of a cord upon his wrist, nothing in the shape of a

wound could be discovered upon his diminutive body. He had now come to

himself, and assured them all that he was not hurt a bit. Hurrah! Jan

was safe!

It now fell to Jan's lot to explain all this mysterious business.

He had been lying in the wagon along with the rest, but not like them

asleep. No. He could not sleep a wink for thinking on his new pet,

which, for want of room in the wagon, had been left below tied to one of

the wheels.

Jan had taken it into his head that he would like to have another look

at the ourebi before going to sleep. So, without saying a word to any

one, he crept out of the cap-tent, and descended to where the antelope

was tied. He unloosed it gently, and then led it forward to the light of

the fire, where he sat down to admire the creature.

After gazing upon it for some time with delight, he thought that

Swartboy could not do otherwise than share his feelings; and without

more ado, he shook the Bushman awake.

The latter had no great stomach for being roused out of sleep to look at

an animal, hundreds of which he had eaten in his time. But Jan and

Swartboy were sworn friends, and the Bushman was not angry. He,

therefore, indulged his young master in the fancy he had taken; and the

two sat for a while conversing about the pet.

At length Swartboy proposed sleep. Jan would agree to this only upon the

terms that Swartboy would allow him to sleep alongside of him. He would

bring his blanket from the wagon, and would not trouble Swartboy by

requiring part of the latter's kaross.

Swartboy objected at first; but Jan urged that he had felt cold in the

wagon, and that was partly why he had come down to the fire. All this

was sheer cunning in the little imp. But Swartboy could not refuse him

anything, and at length consented. He could see no harm in it, as there

were no signs of rain.

Jan then returned to the wagon, climbed noiselessly up, drew out his own

blankets, and brought them to the fire. He then wrapped himself up, and

lay down alongside of Swartboy, with the ourebi standing near, and in

such a situation that he could still have his eyes upon it, even when

lying. To secure it from wandering, he had fastened a strong rheim

around its neck, the other end of which he had looped tightly upon his

own wrist.