But one brief hour before, Willem Van Wyk was the happiest hunter in existence, and now he was about the most miserable. One of the two captives, for which he had suffered so many hardships, had escaped, and in all probability would never be again seen by the eyes of a white man. The realisation of his fondest hopes was delayed for a time,—perhaps forever.
One camelopard was of but little value to him. He must have two; and fortune might never assist them in obtaining another. He was not sure of being able to keep the one that still remained. Death might take it out of their hands. It had been injured in the struggle; and, before leaving camp he had noticed that the efforts of the Makololo to get it to its feet had not succeeded. His great undertaking—the chief purpose of the expedition—was as far as ever from being accomplished.
Such were the thoughts that tortured him, as he urged Congo and the dog to greater haste, in following the spoor through the forest.
Chapter Sixty One.
The Lost Found.
The forest which Willem at first feared might be miles in extent, proved to be but a mere strip of timber, through which he soon passed, discovering an open plain on the other side. Nothing could be seen of the camelopard, though its tracks were found leading out upon the plain.
Willem’s wishes were very difficult to meet. At first he was afraid the giraffe would be lost in a dense forest, where he would be unable to gallop after it on horseback. Now, when contemplating the vast plain before him, he feared that the flight of the escaped captive might be continued for many miles, and he regretted that it had gone out of the timber.
The trees would have given it food and shelter, where it might have stayed until overtaken; but it was not likely to make halt on an open plain.
It must now be many miles off, since they could see nothing of it.
The tracks could be followed but very slowly,—not half so fast as the animal itself had made them, while going in search of the kindred from which it had been so rudely separated several days before. The longer they continued to take up the spoor, the farther they would be from the animal that had left it.
All this was fully understood by our adventurers.
“It’s no use going farther,” remarked Hendrik. “We have lost the creature beyond all hope of recovery. We may as well turn back to camp.”
“Not a bit of it,” answered Willem. “The giraffe is mine, and I sha’n’t part with it so cheaply. I’ll follow it as long as I have strength left me sufficient to sit upon my horse. It must stop sometime and somewhere; and, whenever that time comes, I shall be there not long after to have another look at it.”
Thinking that an hour or two more of what he considered a hopeless chase, would satisfy even Willem, Hendrik made no further objections, but continued on after Congo, who was leading along the spoor.
The sun had by this crossed the meridian, and commenced descending towards the western horizon.
They had started from camp without eating breakfast; and their sudden departure had prevented them from bringing any food along with them. Thirsty and feeble from the long fast, and the fatigue of tracking under a hot sun, they continued their course in anything but a lively fashion.
“Willem!” at length exclaimed Hendrik, suddenly pulling up his horse, “I am willing to do anything in reason, but I think we have already gone on this worse than wild-goose chase, a good many miles too far. We can scarce get back to the camp before nightfall, and I shall commence returning now.”
“All right,” answered Willem. “I can’t blame you. You are free to do as you please; but I shall go on. I need not expect others to act as foolishly as myself. This is my own affair, and you as well as Congo had better turn back. Leave me the dog, and I can track up the giraffe without you.”
“No! no!! baas Willem,” exclaimed the Kaffir. “I go with you and Spoor’em. We no leave you.”
Willem, Congo, and the dog moved on, leaving Hendrik gazing after them.
He remained on the spot where he had pulled up his horse. “Now this is interesting,” muttered the young cornet, as he saw them go off upon the spoor. “I have been acting without motives,—acting like a fool ever since we have been out on this expedition. Circumstances have driven me to it and will do so again. Yes. I must follow Willem. Why should I desert him when that poor Kaffir remains true? If his friendship worth more than mine?”
Spurring his horse into a gallop, Hendrik was soon once more by the side of his forsaken companion.
Willem had a strong suspicion that he was himself acting without reason, in seeking for an object he could hardly expect to find. This sage reflection did not prevent him from continuing the search. Half distracted by the loss of the camelopard, he was scarce capable of knowing whether he now acted sensibly, or like a fool!
To all appearance Hendrik had only followed him for the purpose of prevailing upon him to return.
Every argument that could be advanced against their proceeding farther was used by the young cornet,—all to no purpose. Willem was determined to proceed, and persisted in his determination.
Evening approached, and still was he unwilling to give up the search.
They could not return that night, for they were now nearly a day’s journey from the camp.
“Willem is mad,—hopelessly mad,” thought Hendrik, “and I must not leave him alone.”
They journey on together, and in silence, Hendrik fast approaching that state of mind in which he had just pronounced Willem to be.
But their journey was approaching its termination. It was nearer than either of them expected to a successful issue.
A clump of trees was seen rising up over the plain. They were willows, and indicated the proximity of water.
Towards these the tracks appeared to lead in a line almost direct. The giraffe, guided by its instinct, had scented water. The horses ridden by the trackers did the same, and hastened forward to the clump of trees.
There was a pool in the centre of the grove, and on its edge an animal, the sight of which drew an exclamation of joy from the lips of Groot Willem. It was the escaped camelopard. A second joyful shout was caused by their perceiving that it was again a captive.
The loose rheim, which it had carried away round its neck, had become entangled among the bushes, and it was now secured so that they had no difficulty in laying hold of it. Had they not come upon the spot, it would have perished either by the suicidal act of half-strangulation, from thirst, or by the teeth of some fierce predatory animal.
The rheim was now unwound from the saplings to which it had attached itself, and the giraffe released from its irksome attitude. No harm had yet befallen it.
“Now, Hendrik,” exclaimed Willem, as he gazed upon the captive with an expression of pride and pleasure, “is it not better that we have saved this poor creature than to have left it to die a horrible death?”
“Yes, certainly,” answered his companion. “Much good may sometimes result from what may appear a foolish course of conduct.”
Satisfied with the result of his perseverance, Willem was quite indifferent as to whether his conduct had been foolish or otherwise.
Congo did not seem the least surprised at the good fortune of his master; probably for the reason that he had the utmost confidence in his wisdom, and never for a moment had doubted that the giraffe would be discovered.
Willem never was without the means of lighting a fire,—he was too fond of a pipe for that,—and near a large blazing heap of wood they remained until the first appearance of day.
The journey back to the camp was a tedious one, but was made with much less heaviness of spirit than they had suffered when leaving it to go in search of the lost giraffe, which fortune had so favoured them in finding.
Chapter Sixty Two.
With the Hottentots.
On reaching the camp, Willem and Hendrik found their companions anxiously awaiting their return.
The horses and cattle had all been recovered, and the borelé that had caused their dispersion had been shot by Hans and Arend.
Its attack had caused a delay of two days, and the loss of an ox.
Again the journey towards Graaf Reinet was resumed, and day by day was prosecuted with all the speed that could be made in safety to their animals.
The return journey was not completed until they had suffered many hardships, and had more than once nearly lost the two young giraffes.
On passing through the Hottentot country, they saw many large plains from which the grass had lately been burnt; and not a morsel could be obtained for the subsistence of their animals. Amid the herbage charred by the fire, they frequently saw the remains of serpents and other reptiles, that had been scorched to death.
During the passage across these burnt tracts, the travellers suffered much from hunger and thirst, as did also their animals. Such hardships Groot Willem seemed not to heed. His only care was for the young giraffes; his only fear that they might not safely reach their destination. But each hour of the toilsome journey was cheered by the knowledge that they were drawing nearer home; and all that was disagreeable was endured with such patience as sprang from the prospect of a speedy termination to their toils.
The latter part of their route lay through a part of Southern Africa, farther to the west than any they had yet visited. They passed through lands inhabited by certain tribes of natives, of whom they had often heard and read, but had never seen.
Of some of the customs of those unfortunate people classed amongst that variety of the genus homo known as the “Hottentot,” they one afternoon became fully and painfully acquainted.
Beneath the shade of some stunted trees they found an aged man and a child not more than eighteen months old. The man, who could not have been less than seventy years of age, was totally blind; and by his side was an empty calabash, that had evidently once contained water.
With the assistance of Swartboy, as interpreter, it was ascertained that he had lately lost by death an only son and protector. There was no one now to provide for his wants, and he had been carried far-away from the home of his tribe, and left in the desert to die!
The child had lost its mother, its only parent, and had been “exposed” to death at the same time and for the same reason,—because there was no one to provide for it.
Both old man and infant had been thus left exposed to a death which must certainly ensue, either by thirst, hunger, or hyenas.
This horrid custom of the Hottentots was not entirely unknown to our adventurers. They had heard that the act, of which they now had ocular evidence, was once common among the inhabitants of the country, through which they were passing, but, like thousands of others, they had believed that such a barbarous custom had long ago been discontinued, under the precept and example of European civilisation.
They saw that they were mistaken; and that they were in the neighbourhood of a tribe that had either never heard these precepts of humanity, or had turned a deaf ear to them.
Knowing that a Hottentot kraal could not be many miles away, and unwilling to leave two human beings to such a fearful fate, the travellers determined to take the helpless creatures back to the people who, as Swartboy worded it, had “throwed ’um away.”
Strange to say, the old man expressed himself not only willing to die where he sat, but showed a strong disinclination to being returned to his countrymen!
He had the philosophy to believe that he was old and helpless,—a child for the second time,—and that by dying he was but performing his duty to society! To be placed again in a position where he would be an incumbrance to those whom he could not call kindred was, in his opinion, a crime he should not commit!
Our adventurers resolved upon saving him in spite of himself.
It was not until late in the afternoon that they reached the kraal from which the outcasts had been ejected. Not a soul could be found in the whole community who would admit that the old man had ever been seen there before, and no one had the slightest knowledge of the child!
The white men were advised to take the objects of their solicitude to the place where they properly belonged.
“This is interesting,” said Hendrik. “We might wander over all Southern Africa without finding a creature that will acknowledge having seen these helpless beings before. They are ours now, and we must provide for them in some way or other.”
“I do not see how we can do it,” rejoined Arend; “I’m quite sure that they are now with their own tribe, and it is they who should provide for them.”
A second effort was made to persuade the villagers to acknowledge some complicity in the attempt to starve two human beings. But they had already learned that their conduct in such a custom was considered by white people as a crime, and, ashamed of what they had done, they stoutly stood to the story they had first told.
Strangest of all, the feeble old man confirmed all their statements, and, as some proof of the truth of what they had said, he informed the travellers that the chief and several others whom he called by name, were men incapable of practising a deception!
This he professed to know from a long acquaintance with them.
The hunters were now within the territory over which the Colonial Government claimed and sometimes enforced dominion, and the Hottentots were threatened with the vengeance of English justice in the event of their not taking care of the old man and child, or should they again expose him as they had already done.
They were told that a messenger should be sent to them within a few weeks, to learn if their orders had been obeyed; and, having delivered up the two helpless beings to the headman of the village, the travellers once more proceeded on their way.
Chapter Sixty Three.
“The Dutchman’s Fireside.”
A few more days’ journey brought them into a neighbourhood inhabited by several Dutch “boers.” They were now travelling upon a track dignified by the name of “road,” which only benefited them so far as between the rivers it conducted them without difficulty from one crossing-place to another.
For the first time in several months they saw fields under cultivation by white labour, and were able to procure a substance called “bread.”
One evening, as they were preparing to encamp near the habitation of a well-to-do appearing boer, they received an invitation from the proprietor to make his house their home for the night.
A heavy cold rain had been falling most part of the day, and to all appearance the weather would be no better during the night. The invitation was gladly accepted, and the travellers, grouped around the wide hearth of the boer’s kitchen fire, were enjoying that sense of happiness we all feel to a greater or less extent when perfectly secure from a storm heard raging without.
