The chase was now one of exceeding interest, and had become a simple
trial of speed between horses, dogs, and antelope. The buck had kept on
in a direct line, when the others broke away from him. He had been
foremost at the time, and had no need to turn out of his course.
Besides he knew where he was running to. Terror had driven the others
out of their senses, and they had fled without design, while the old
buck, not losing his "presence of mind," kept on for the water.
A dark belt seen ahead was a forest fringing some stream or river. That
was the point he was making for, but a wide plain must be crossed before
he could wet his hoof in any water. Over this plain now swept the
chase.
Oddly enough, the two dogs that had chosen the buck for their game were
rival dogs--that is, each hunter was owner of one of them, and regarded
him as a favourite; and all three kinds, dogs, horses, and riders,
seemed to be on their mettle, and were doing their very best.
Do not fancy there was any ill-feeling between Groot Willem and Hendrik.
Nothing of the sort. Each loved his horse and his dog, and wished them
to excel--each had his hunter reputation at stake in the result--and
each had resolved upon carrying the head and horns of that blue-buck in
triumph to the camp!
Notwithstanding all this, there was no "bad blood" between the boys.
Nothing of the sort.
Beautifully the buck ran. Lightly he leaped over the turf, his limbs at
each spring stretching to an almost horizontal line, with head high in
air and horns curving backward to his flanks. Well and beautifully he
ran!
Sometimes he gained on his pursuers, as the nature of the ground
favoured his hoofs; but again the strong buck-dogs howled upon his
heels, and the hunters galloped but a hundred yards behind him. The
blue of his back soon changed to a deeper tint, as the sweat poured
through his sable skin, and the froth in large flakes clouted his neck
and shoulders. His red tongue hung dripping from his jaws, and the
hunters might have heard his hard breathing but for the panting of their
own steeds.
Five miles did they go in that wild gallop--five miles without drawing
rein or changing pace!
The woods were near--perhaps the water! The buck would gain them if not
hard pressed--there might be a deep reach of some large river--the
blauw-bok can swim like a duck--he would plunge in--they could not
follow--they would lose him!
With such fears the hunters spurred their horses for a final burst.
Their speed had proved nearly equal. Now was the time to try their
"bottom."
Both shot forward at the fresh touch of the steel; but at the second or
third spring the ground under the "Great Camel" gave way, and the huge
horse with his heavy rider rolled headlong to the earth!
He had broken through the burrow of the _aard-wolf_!
Hendrik, who had shot a little ahead, heard the confused noise behind,
and, looking over his shoulder, saw Groot Willem and the "Camel"
struggling together over the turf. A more attractive object, however,
was in front of him--the panting buck--and without making halt, or
staying to inquire whether his fellow-hunter was hurt--a pardonable
neglect among sportsmen--he pressed his wearied horse still forward and
onward.
In five minutes after, the buck stood to bay by the edge of the timber,
and the dogs rushed up and sprang at him. It was a fatal spring for one
of them--the favourite of Groot Willem. The luck was against him, as it
had gone against his master. A single "gowl" came from his throat, as
he was flung back off the sharp horns of the antelope. It was the last
note he ever uttered, for in a moment more he had kicked his last kick,
and lay lifeless upon the plain!
And very likely Hendrik's favourite would have shared the same fate; but
his master at this moment riding near, caused the blue-buck a fresh
alarm, and he broke bay, and dashed into the bushes followed by the dog.
Hendrik now lost sight of the chase, though he could hear the breaking
branches, as the strong antelope made his way through the thicket, and
the baying of the dog still told him the direction in which the game was
going.
Putting his horse to a more moderate pace, he followed through the
_bosch_, as well as he could. He expected every moment to hear the
hound bark, the signal that the buck had again stood to bay, but he was
doomed to disappointment. No such sound reached his ears.
He began to think that the buck was lost, and that, after all the
chances in his favour, he would return to camp with no better story to
tell than his rival. He was becoming exceedingly chagrined with the
turn things had taken, when, to his further chagrin, he heard a loud
plunge, as of some heavy object falling into deep water. He knew it was
the buck. Another plunge!--that was the dog.
There was a river ahead--the antelope had taken to it, and would now
escape to a certainty. The water seemed near--there was an open tract
that led in that direction. Perhaps he might be in time. Perhaps he
might get to the bank before the buck could reach the opposite shore. A
bullet from his rifle might yet secure the game.
Without hesitating a moment he again spurred his horse, and galloped
down the hill in the direction of the water.
There _was_ a river, and in a few seconds' time Hendrik was on its bank.
He had arrived at a place where the water was deep and the current
still, but the rippling wave on the surface guided him. Two objects
were seen above the surface moving rapidly across. They were the horns
of the buck and the head of the buck-dog!
Hendrik had no time to alight. Before he could steady his horse, the
blauw-bok had got out of the water, and was climbing up the opposite
bank. There was just time for a hurried shot. The broad back of the
antelope offered a fair mark, and the next moment a tuft of the hair
near the spine, was seen to fly up like a spark, while a red stream
spouted from the spot. The crack of a rifle explained this phenomenon;
and before its echoes had died away, the antelope came tumbling down the
slope, and lay motionless by the edge of the water.
The horns were Hendrik's!