Chapter Sixty Six.News of the Lost.The sky had been overclouded all day, and continued so as the sun went down. Over them descended a night as dark as Erebus.Perceiving the impracticability of getting that night to the house of the boer,—a distance of ten or fifteen miles,—the disappointed trackers dismounted, and staked their horses upon the grass, determined to wait for the return of another day.The night was passed in fitful slumbers around a camp-fire, where they were only visited by a flight of large moths, and some laughing hyenas, that by their harsh cachinations seemed to mock them in their misery.They were in a district of country from which the most noble of its denizens seemed to have been driven, and the most despicable only remained. When morning dawned they again climbed into their saddles and continued on towards the kraal of the boer.When, as they supposed, within about five miles of the house, they met two strange horsemen coming in the opposite direction.“Goot morgen, shentlemens!” saluted one of the strangers as they drew near. “I’m glat to meet some ones coming your ways. Hash you seen anything of our horses?”“Do you mean those you are now riding?” asked Hendrik.“No, not these, but five other horses,—no, three horses and two mares,—all mitout either sattles or pridles; one red horse mit one eye and a white poot on the left behind leg, one mare mit a star on the front of his head, und—”“No,” interrupted Hendrik, “we have been out since yesterday morning, but have seen no stray horses of any description; not a horse except those we are riding ourselves.”“Then we need not look in the direction you have been,” said the other horseman, who spoke English with a proper accent. “Will you please tell us whence you have come?”Hendrik gave them a brief history of their course during the last twenty-four hours; and, in doing so, mentioned the object of their expedition,—the search after the giraffes.“If that’s what you’ve been after,” said the man who spoke proper English, “perhaps we can assist you a little. From what you tell me, I presume you must have been staying at the kraal of Mynheer Van Ormon. Yesterday morning we were looking for our horses about ten miles south of his place, when we saw two giraffes, the first I had ever seen in my life. We were badly mounted, and unprepared for hunting anything except our strayed horses, else we should have given chase.”“Ten miles to the south of the kraal!” exclaimed Willem, “and we seeking for them twenty to the north. What fools we have been. What were the giraffes doing?” he asked earnestly, turning towards the man who had one more awakened within him the sweet sentiment of hope. “Were they grazing or going on?”“They were travelling southward at a gentle trot, but increased their speed on seeing us. We were not within a quarter of a mile of them.”Our adventurers were too impatient to stay longer on the spot; and, after getting a few further directions, they bade the strangers good day and hastened on towards the house.On entering its enclosure the first person they encountered was the boer Mynheer Van Ormon.“I see pat luck mit you, mine poys,” said the Dutchman, as they rode up to him. “I knowed it would pe so. The cameels have goed too far for you.”“Yes, too far to the south,” answered Willem. “We have heard of them, and must be off immediately. Where are our companions?”“They goed away yester morgen to live where the oxen get grass. They now waiting for you at the south.”“That’s all right,” said Hendrik. “We must hasten to join them; but I think we’d be better of something to eat first. I’m starving. Mynheer Van Ormon, we must again trespass on your hospitality.”“So you shall, mine poys, mit pleasure all around; put who told you I vas Mynheer Van Ormon?”“The same two men who told us about the giraffes. They were looking for some stray horses.”“Dat mush be mine neighbour Cloots, who live fifteen miles to the east of thish place. They say they see the cameels. Where an’ when they see ’em?”“Yesterday morning, about ten miles south of this place, they said.”“May be dey be gone to Graaf Reinet to say you are coming. Ha, he, hi! Dat ish ver’ goot.”The boer then conducted his guests towards the dwelling. On passing a hut by the way, the hunters were surprised at seeing Congo suddenly disappear around a corner!On the part of the Kaffir, the encounter appeared both unexpected and undesired, as he had started back apparently to avoid them.This was a new mystery.“Ho Congo! come back here,” shouted Willem. “Why are you here? Why are you not with the others?”The Kaffir did not condescend to make answer, but skulked into the hut.The boer now proceeded to explain that the Kaffir had expressed a wish to be employed at his place, and had declared that he would proceed no further with his former masters, who had cruelly ill-treated him for allowing the giraffes to escape. He denied having done anything to influence this strange decision.“This cannot be,” said Willem. “There must be some mistake. He is not telling the truth if he says that we beat him. I may have spoken to him somewhat harshly; I admit having done so, but I did not know he was so sensitive. I’m sorry, if I have offended him, and am willing to apologise.”Mynheer Van Ormon stepped up to the door of the hut and commanded the Kaffir to come forth.When Congo showed himself at the entrance, Willem apologised to him for the harsh language he had used, and, in the same manner as one friend should speak to another, entreated him to forget and forgive, and return with them to Graaf Reinet.During this colloquy the sharp eyes of the boer were glancing from master to servant, as though he knew what the result would be. They showed a gleam of satisfaction as the Kaffir declared that he preferred remaining with his new master; and the only favour he now asked of Willem was some compensation for his past services.Had Congo been one of the brothers, Hans or Hendrik Von Bloom, Willem could not have done more towards effecting a reconciliation. At length, becoming indignant at the unaccountable conduct of his old servitor, he turned scornfully away, and, along with Hendrik and Arend, entered the house.After seeing a joint of cold boiled beef, a loaf of brown bread, and a bottle of Cape wine placed before his guests, the boer went out again.Hastily repairing to one of the sheds, he there found a Hottentot servant at hard work in saddling one of his horse.“Piet,” said he, speaking in great haste, “quick, mine poy! chump into your saddle, and ride out to the north till you meet mine bruder and Shames. Tell them not to come more so near as half a mile to the house for one hour. Make haste an’ pe off!”Two minutes more and the Hottentot was on the horse, galloping away in the direction given to him.Having satisfied their hunger, thanked their host and his fat vrow for their hospitality, and bidden them farewell, our adventurers started off for the South, anxious to rejoin Hans, and continue the search after the giraffes.
The sky had been overclouded all day, and continued so as the sun went down. Over them descended a night as dark as Erebus.
Perceiving the impracticability of getting that night to the house of the boer,—a distance of ten or fifteen miles,—the disappointed trackers dismounted, and staked their horses upon the grass, determined to wait for the return of another day.
The night was passed in fitful slumbers around a camp-fire, where they were only visited by a flight of large moths, and some laughing hyenas, that by their harsh cachinations seemed to mock them in their misery.
They were in a district of country from which the most noble of its denizens seemed to have been driven, and the most despicable only remained. When morning dawned they again climbed into their saddles and continued on towards the kraal of the boer.
When, as they supposed, within about five miles of the house, they met two strange horsemen coming in the opposite direction.
“Goot morgen, shentlemens!” saluted one of the strangers as they drew near. “I’m glat to meet some ones coming your ways. Hash you seen anything of our horses?”
“Do you mean those you are now riding?” asked Hendrik.
“No, not these, but five other horses,—no, three horses and two mares,—all mitout either sattles or pridles; one red horse mit one eye and a white poot on the left behind leg, one mare mit a star on the front of his head, und—”
“No,” interrupted Hendrik, “we have been out since yesterday morning, but have seen no stray horses of any description; not a horse except those we are riding ourselves.”
“Then we need not look in the direction you have been,” said the other horseman, who spoke English with a proper accent. “Will you please tell us whence you have come?”
Hendrik gave them a brief history of their course during the last twenty-four hours; and, in doing so, mentioned the object of their expedition,—the search after the giraffes.
“If that’s what you’ve been after,” said the man who spoke proper English, “perhaps we can assist you a little. From what you tell me, I presume you must have been staying at the kraal of Mynheer Van Ormon. Yesterday morning we were looking for our horses about ten miles south of his place, when we saw two giraffes, the first I had ever seen in my life. We were badly mounted, and unprepared for hunting anything except our strayed horses, else we should have given chase.”
“Ten miles to the south of the kraal!” exclaimed Willem, “and we seeking for them twenty to the north. What fools we have been. What were the giraffes doing?” he asked earnestly, turning towards the man who had one more awakened within him the sweet sentiment of hope. “Were they grazing or going on?”
“They were travelling southward at a gentle trot, but increased their speed on seeing us. We were not within a quarter of a mile of them.”
Our adventurers were too impatient to stay longer on the spot; and, after getting a few further directions, they bade the strangers good day and hastened on towards the house.
On entering its enclosure the first person they encountered was the boer Mynheer Van Ormon.
“I see pat luck mit you, mine poys,” said the Dutchman, as they rode up to him. “I knowed it would pe so. The cameels have goed too far for you.”
“Yes, too far to the south,” answered Willem. “We have heard of them, and must be off immediately. Where are our companions?”
“They goed away yester morgen to live where the oxen get grass. They now waiting for you at the south.”
“That’s all right,” said Hendrik. “We must hasten to join them; but I think we’d be better of something to eat first. I’m starving. Mynheer Van Ormon, we must again trespass on your hospitality.”
“So you shall, mine poys, mit pleasure all around; put who told you I vas Mynheer Van Ormon?”
“The same two men who told us about the giraffes. They were looking for some stray horses.”
“Dat mush be mine neighbour Cloots, who live fifteen miles to the east of thish place. They say they see the cameels. Where an’ when they see ’em?”
“Yesterday morning, about ten miles south of this place, they said.”
“May be dey be gone to Graaf Reinet to say you are coming. Ha, he, hi! Dat ish ver’ goot.”
The boer then conducted his guests towards the dwelling. On passing a hut by the way, the hunters were surprised at seeing Congo suddenly disappear around a corner!
On the part of the Kaffir, the encounter appeared both unexpected and undesired, as he had started back apparently to avoid them.
This was a new mystery.
“Ho Congo! come back here,” shouted Willem. “Why are you here? Why are you not with the others?”
The Kaffir did not condescend to make answer, but skulked into the hut.
The boer now proceeded to explain that the Kaffir had expressed a wish to be employed at his place, and had declared that he would proceed no further with his former masters, who had cruelly ill-treated him for allowing the giraffes to escape. He denied having done anything to influence this strange decision.
“This cannot be,” said Willem. “There must be some mistake. He is not telling the truth if he says that we beat him. I may have spoken to him somewhat harshly; I admit having done so, but I did not know he was so sensitive. I’m sorry, if I have offended him, and am willing to apologise.”
Mynheer Van Ormon stepped up to the door of the hut and commanded the Kaffir to come forth.
When Congo showed himself at the entrance, Willem apologised to him for the harsh language he had used, and, in the same manner as one friend should speak to another, entreated him to forget and forgive, and return with them to Graaf Reinet.
During this colloquy the sharp eyes of the boer were glancing from master to servant, as though he knew what the result would be. They showed a gleam of satisfaction as the Kaffir declared that he preferred remaining with his new master; and the only favour he now asked of Willem was some compensation for his past services.
Had Congo been one of the brothers, Hans or Hendrik Von Bloom, Willem could not have done more towards effecting a reconciliation. At length, becoming indignant at the unaccountable conduct of his old servitor, he turned scornfully away, and, along with Hendrik and Arend, entered the house.
After seeing a joint of cold boiled beef, a loaf of brown bread, and a bottle of Cape wine placed before his guests, the boer went out again.
Hastily repairing to one of the sheds, he there found a Hottentot servant at hard work in saddling one of his horse.
“Piet,” said he, speaking in great haste, “quick, mine poy! chump into your saddle, and ride out to the north till you meet mine bruder and Shames. Tell them not to come more so near as half a mile to the house for one hour. Make haste an’ pe off!”
Two minutes more and the Hottentot was on the horse, galloping away in the direction given to him.
Having satisfied their hunger, thanked their host and his fat vrow for their hospitality, and bidden them farewell, our adventurers started off for the South, anxious to rejoin Hans, and continue the search after the giraffes.
Chapter Sixty Seven.Why Congo turned Traitor.Unwilling to trespass any longer on the hospitality of Mynheer Van Ormon, Hans had left the house with the intention to encamp somewhere near it, and wait for the return of his companions.To this the boer had made but little opposition, and his guest proceeded to prepare the Makololo for a removal. They were still suffering all the horrors of a recovery from their first spell of intoxication, and, on entering the hut where they had passed the night, Hans found them full of that species of repentance that leads to strong resolutions of future reformation.On being informed of the loss of the giraffes, their remorse seemed as if it would tempt them to suicide, and one of them, while tearing his wool-covered head, kept repeating the wordkombi,kombi!Hans knew that this was the name of a virulent poison much in use amongst the Makololo.The four unfortunate men were willing to take upon themselves the whole blame of allowing the giraffes to escape, and seemed grateful for the mercy of being allowed to live any longer!After the cattle and horses had been loaded, and all got ready for a start, Congo expressed his determination to stay behind.“What does this mean, Congo?” asked Hans. “Are you angry at what your master said to you? You must forget that. He meant no harm. What do you intend doing?”“Don’t know, baas Hans,” gruffly answered Congo; “don’t know nuffin’.”Believing that the Kaffir was only displeased with himself for his conduct on the night before, and that he would soon recover from his “miff,” Hans made no attempt to dissuade him. Accompanied by Swartboy and the Makololo he moved away, driving the cattle before them, and leaving Congo and his dog behind.He went in a southerly course, as the grass looked more tempting in that direction. When about three miles from the house he came upon a grove of trees, through which ran a little rivulet. On its bank he determined to make camp, and await the return of his companion.The manner in which he had left the boer had been rather sudden and unceremonious, and, if called upon to give an explanation of it, only some half-developed reasons would have presented themselves to his mind. Of these, however, there were several. One was the desire of removing the Makololo, now under his sole care, from the temptation of swallowing any more “Cape Smoke.”This apprehension, however, was altogether groundless, and not even a relief from aching heads and self-condemnation could have induced the subjects of Macora to drink any more for the present.Hans possessed a philosophic spirit, and, under most circumstances, could wait patiently. Swartboy and the Makololo were in want of rest, to enable them to recover from their last night’s debauch. The cattle and horses were in need of the grass that grew luxuriantly on the banks of the stream. All, therefore, could pass the day with but little inconvenience arising from the absence of the others.As the night came on, the cattle were collected; and, availing themselves of the habits to which they had been long since trained, they lay down close to the large fire that had been kindled by the edge of the grove.The night passed without any incidents to disturb them; but, just as day broke, they were awakened by the barking of a dog, and soon after greeted by a familiar voice.It was that of Congo.“I thought you would think better of us and return,” said Hans, pleased once more to see the face of the faithful Kaffir.“Yaas, I come,” answered Congo, “but not to stay. I go back again.”“Why! What’s brought you, then?”“To see baas Willem; but he no here. Tell him when he come back to wait for Congo. Tell him wait two days, four days,—tell him always wait till Congo come.”“But Willem will go to the house before he comes here, and you can see him yourself.”“No; may be I off with the boer oxen. I work there now. Tell baas Willem to wait for Congo.”“Certainly I shall do so,” answered Hans; “but you are keeping something hid from me. Why do you wish to see your master, if you are so offended as to have forsaken him. What is your reason for staying behind?”“Don’t know,” vaguely responded the Kaffir. “Dis fool Congo don’t know nuffin’.”“Der’s one thing I mus say for Congo,” said Swartboy, “he mos allers tell the troof. He jus done so now.”The Kaffir smiled as though satisfied with Swartboy’s remark.After again requesting that Willem should be told to wait his return, he hastened away, followed by the dog Spoor’em.There was a mystery in the conduct of the man that Hans could not comprehend in any other way than by taking the explanation he had himself given. Congo seemed certainly either to be a fool or acting in a very foolish way.As the morning advanced, Hans began to believe that the trackers had proved successful in their search. The spoor of the giraffes must have been found and followed, or they would have been back before then.From his knowledge of Willem, Hans was certain that once on the spoor he would never leave it as long as he had strength to continue. The giraffes had become tame, and there was no reason why they should not be easily retaken. But just as the sun had mounted up to the meridian, this hope was dispelled by the appearance of Willem and his comrade coming back empty-handed.“You have been unsuccessful,” said Hans, as they rode up. “Well, never mind; there is still a hope left us, and that is, to get safely home.”“We have another hope besides that,” replied Willem. “We have heard of the giraffes. They were seen yesterday morning about seven miles to the southward of this spot. They are between us and our home, and we are not hunters if we don’t recover them yet. We must be off after them immediately.”Swartboy and the Makololo were directed to drive in the cattle, and all commenced making preparations for a departure.“We shall miss Congo and Spoor’em,” said Willem, while the cattle were being loaded. “We shall want them badly now.”“Ah!” exclaimed Hans, “I had nearly forgotten to tell you that Congo was here this morning, and wished me to say you were to wait until he came to you. He was very anxious to see you, and said you were to wait for him four days, or longer, if he did not see you in that time.”“Fortunately there will be no need for that delay,” rejoined Willem. “I have just seen the ungrateful rascal,—not half an hour ago.”“Indeed. And what did he want?”“Only to dun me for the wages due him for the last year of his services. I have never been more deceived about a man in my life. I could not have believed it possible that Congo would thus turn traitor and desert me.”The conversation was discontinued, as all became busy in making ready for a start.
Unwilling to trespass any longer on the hospitality of Mynheer Van Ormon, Hans had left the house with the intention to encamp somewhere near it, and wait for the return of his companions.
To this the boer had made but little opposition, and his guest proceeded to prepare the Makololo for a removal. They were still suffering all the horrors of a recovery from their first spell of intoxication, and, on entering the hut where they had passed the night, Hans found them full of that species of repentance that leads to strong resolutions of future reformation.
On being informed of the loss of the giraffes, their remorse seemed as if it would tempt them to suicide, and one of them, while tearing his wool-covered head, kept repeating the wordkombi,kombi!
Hans knew that this was the name of a virulent poison much in use amongst the Makololo.
The four unfortunate men were willing to take upon themselves the whole blame of allowing the giraffes to escape, and seemed grateful for the mercy of being allowed to live any longer!
After the cattle and horses had been loaded, and all got ready for a start, Congo expressed his determination to stay behind.
“What does this mean, Congo?” asked Hans. “Are you angry at what your master said to you? You must forget that. He meant no harm. What do you intend doing?”
“Don’t know, baas Hans,” gruffly answered Congo; “don’t know nuffin’.”
Believing that the Kaffir was only displeased with himself for his conduct on the night before, and that he would soon recover from his “miff,” Hans made no attempt to dissuade him. Accompanied by Swartboy and the Makololo he moved away, driving the cattle before them, and leaving Congo and his dog behind.
He went in a southerly course, as the grass looked more tempting in that direction. When about three miles from the house he came upon a grove of trees, through which ran a little rivulet. On its bank he determined to make camp, and await the return of his companion.
The manner in which he had left the boer had been rather sudden and unceremonious, and, if called upon to give an explanation of it, only some half-developed reasons would have presented themselves to his mind. Of these, however, there were several. One was the desire of removing the Makololo, now under his sole care, from the temptation of swallowing any more “Cape Smoke.”
This apprehension, however, was altogether groundless, and not even a relief from aching heads and self-condemnation could have induced the subjects of Macora to drink any more for the present.
Hans possessed a philosophic spirit, and, under most circumstances, could wait patiently. Swartboy and the Makololo were in want of rest, to enable them to recover from their last night’s debauch. The cattle and horses were in need of the grass that grew luxuriantly on the banks of the stream. All, therefore, could pass the day with but little inconvenience arising from the absence of the others.
As the night came on, the cattle were collected; and, availing themselves of the habits to which they had been long since trained, they lay down close to the large fire that had been kindled by the edge of the grove.
The night passed without any incidents to disturb them; but, just as day broke, they were awakened by the barking of a dog, and soon after greeted by a familiar voice.
It was that of Congo.
“I thought you would think better of us and return,” said Hans, pleased once more to see the face of the faithful Kaffir.
“Yaas, I come,” answered Congo, “but not to stay. I go back again.”
“Why! What’s brought you, then?”
“To see baas Willem; but he no here. Tell him when he come back to wait for Congo. Tell him wait two days, four days,—tell him always wait till Congo come.”
“But Willem will go to the house before he comes here, and you can see him yourself.”
“No; may be I off with the boer oxen. I work there now. Tell baas Willem to wait for Congo.”
“Certainly I shall do so,” answered Hans; “but you are keeping something hid from me. Why do you wish to see your master, if you are so offended as to have forsaken him. What is your reason for staying behind?”
“Don’t know,” vaguely responded the Kaffir. “Dis fool Congo don’t know nuffin’.”
“Der’s one thing I mus say for Congo,” said Swartboy, “he mos allers tell the troof. He jus done so now.”
The Kaffir smiled as though satisfied with Swartboy’s remark.
After again requesting that Willem should be told to wait his return, he hastened away, followed by the dog Spoor’em.
There was a mystery in the conduct of the man that Hans could not comprehend in any other way than by taking the explanation he had himself given. Congo seemed certainly either to be a fool or acting in a very foolish way.
As the morning advanced, Hans began to believe that the trackers had proved successful in their search. The spoor of the giraffes must have been found and followed, or they would have been back before then.
From his knowledge of Willem, Hans was certain that once on the spoor he would never leave it as long as he had strength to continue. The giraffes had become tame, and there was no reason why they should not be easily retaken. But just as the sun had mounted up to the meridian, this hope was dispelled by the appearance of Willem and his comrade coming back empty-handed.
“You have been unsuccessful,” said Hans, as they rode up. “Well, never mind; there is still a hope left us, and that is, to get safely home.”
“We have another hope besides that,” replied Willem. “We have heard of the giraffes. They were seen yesterday morning about seven miles to the southward of this spot. They are between us and our home, and we are not hunters if we don’t recover them yet. We must be off after them immediately.”
Swartboy and the Makololo were directed to drive in the cattle, and all commenced making preparations for a departure.
“We shall miss Congo and Spoor’em,” said Willem, while the cattle were being loaded. “We shall want them badly now.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Hans, “I had nearly forgotten to tell you that Congo was here this morning, and wished me to say you were to wait until he came to you. He was very anxious to see you, and said you were to wait for him four days, or longer, if he did not see you in that time.”
“Fortunately there will be no need for that delay,” rejoined Willem. “I have just seen the ungrateful rascal,—not half an hour ago.”
“Indeed. And what did he want?”
“Only to dun me for the wages due him for the last year of his services. I have never been more deceived about a man in my life. I could not have believed it possible that Congo would thus turn traitor and desert me.”
The conversation was discontinued, as all became busy in making ready for a start.
Chapter Sixty Eight.Light out of Darkness.In half an hour afterwards the hunters had broken up their camp.“I feel sorry about having to leave Congo behind,” said Willem, as the cattle were being driven across the stream. “Not that I care a straw for him, the ungrateful wretch, but that we may be unable to find the spoor of the giraffes, not having him with us. He and Spoor’em would be worth everything now.”“I think,” rejoined his brother, “there’s not much chance of our recovering them. We are now in a settled country where they will find but little rest. They will either be driven out of it or killed by whoever comes across them.”“I have thought of all that,” replied Willem; “still, I shall hope for a day or two longer. I can better survive the loss, if nobody else succeeds in obtaining the reward offered for them; but should that brother of whom the boer spoke, as being gone on a similar expedition to ours,—should he perform the feat we have failed to accomplish, then I shouldn’t care to live much longer.”Before they had gone very far, all noticed that there was something wrong with Swartboy, who seemed also inclined to turn back, and was muttering some gibberish to himself, as was his habit when in any way perplexed or annoyed. The excitement in his mind at last became too strong to be restrained, and, drawing near Willem, he asked:—“What was that, baas Willem, you said jus now ’bout the bruder of dat Dutchman?”“I hardly remember, Swart,” answered Willem. “Some thing about his going after giraffes and getting the reward instead of ourselves. Why do you ask?”“But did they gone nort same as we been a doin’?”“Yes, so the boer told us.”“How long was dat ago?”“Seven months, I think he said.”“Why for you no tell me afore?”This question Willem did not think worth answering, and Swartboy for a few minutes was left to his thoughts.Presently he recommenced the conversation. “Baas Willem,” said he. “I think we bess stop, and talk a bit. Congo no fool, but Swartboy. Swartboy a fool, and no mistake ’bout dat.”“Well, what has that to do with our stopping for a talk?” asked Willem.“The boer’s bruder, he come back from the nort without catch any giraffe,” replied the Bushman. “I tink he got some now.”A light suddenly dawned on the mind of Hans, who stood listening to this dialect. The mysterious conduct of Congo appeared better than half explained.A halt was immediately ordered, and all gathered around Swartboy.Nearly twenty minutes was taken up in obtaining from the Bushman the information he had to give. From the answers made to about a hundred questions, the hunters learned that, in the hut where he, Congo, and the Makololo had been so freely entertained, they had seen a Hottentot who had lately returned from a journey to the north.This Swartboy had understood from a few words the man had muttered while under the influence of the “smoke.”During the evening, the Hottentot had been called away from the hut, and Swartboy had seen no more of him, nor thought anything of what he had said.Now, however, on hearing that the boer had a brother who had gone northward on a giraffe hunt, Swartboy conceived the idea that the drunken Hottentot had not been there alone. In all likelihood he had accompanied the expedition. It had returned unsuccessful; and the boer’s brothers had stolen the two giraffes that were now missing.The more this conjecture was discussed, the more probable it appeared.No doubt Congo had some suspicion that there was something wrong, and he was keeping it to himself lest he might be mistaken.Had he stayed behind in the hope of ascertaining the truth? His rude behaviour to his former master in the presence of the boer might have been only a ruse to mislead the latter, and give an opportunity for carrying out some detective contrivance. It was all in keeping with the Kaffir character, and Willem was but too delighted to think that such was the explanation.“I thought at the time I last saw him,” said Willem, “that there was something in his behaviour unlike what would be shown by a traitor. It seemed to contradict his words. I believe that we have all been very stupid. I hope so. I shall go back and see Congo immediately. I shall demand an explanation. He will tell me all, if I can only get the boer out of the way.”“I have another idea,” said Hendrik. “The two men we saw hunting for horses, and who told us they had seen our giraffes to the south, were a couple of liars. They did not speak like men telling the truth. I can see it now: we were simpletons to have been so easily deceived. They were the boer’s own brothers,—the very men who have robbed us!”“Yes,” said Hans; “and they had the assistance of Mynheer Van Ormon in doing it. How easy it is to understand his profuse hospitality now. We have indeed been duped.”The belief that the giraffes had been stolen was now universal, and our adventurers were only too glad to think so. They much preferred that this should be the case than to think the animals had strayed. There would be a far better chance of recovering them.It is easy to believe what we most desire, and all agreed that the property had been surreptitiously taken from the shed.Without saying another word, Groot Willem turned his horse upon his tracks, and rode back towards the kraal of Mynheer Van Ormon.The boer met him outside the enclosures, apparently surprised to see him return. The moment Willem set eyes upon the man’s face, he saw that there was something amiss. He observed a strong expression of displeasure, accompanied with a glance of uneasiness.“I have come back to have a chat with my old servant,” said Willem. “He has been with me for so many years that I don’t like to part with him on slight grounds.”“Ver goot,” answered Van Ormon. “You can see him when he come home. He hash goed after the oxen. If you pleash, take him along mit you when you leave.”As the sun was now about setting, Willem knew that the Kaffir must soon be coming in with the cattle, and he rode off from the house in the hope of meeting him. Soon a large herd was seen approaching from the plain, and, riding around it, Willem found Congo in company with two Hottentots.While in the presence of his companions, the Kaffir would not speak to him, but was apparently devoting every thought to the task of directing the movements of the herd. His old master seemed unworthy of his notice.“We have been all wrong in our conjectures,” thought Willem: “Congo has really deserted me. No man could keep up such an appearance as he is doing. I may go back again.”He was about to turn away, when Congo, observing that both the Hottentots had gone a few yards ahead, and were busy talking to one another, muttered in a low tone: “Go back, baas Willem, and wait at you camp. I come dar to-morrow mornin’.”Willem was not only satisfied, but overjoyed. Those words were enough to tell him that his Kaffir was still faithful,—that he was acting for the best, and that all would yet be well. He returned to his companions as cheerful and happy as he had been two nights before, while sitting by the Dutchman’s fireside and, under the exhilarating influence of the Schiedam.
In half an hour afterwards the hunters had broken up their camp.
“I feel sorry about having to leave Congo behind,” said Willem, as the cattle were being driven across the stream. “Not that I care a straw for him, the ungrateful wretch, but that we may be unable to find the spoor of the giraffes, not having him with us. He and Spoor’em would be worth everything now.”
“I think,” rejoined his brother, “there’s not much chance of our recovering them. We are now in a settled country where they will find but little rest. They will either be driven out of it or killed by whoever comes across them.”
“I have thought of all that,” replied Willem; “still, I shall hope for a day or two longer. I can better survive the loss, if nobody else succeeds in obtaining the reward offered for them; but should that brother of whom the boer spoke, as being gone on a similar expedition to ours,—should he perform the feat we have failed to accomplish, then I shouldn’t care to live much longer.”
Before they had gone very far, all noticed that there was something wrong with Swartboy, who seemed also inclined to turn back, and was muttering some gibberish to himself, as was his habit when in any way perplexed or annoyed. The excitement in his mind at last became too strong to be restrained, and, drawing near Willem, he asked:—
“What was that, baas Willem, you said jus now ’bout the bruder of dat Dutchman?”
“I hardly remember, Swart,” answered Willem. “Some thing about his going after giraffes and getting the reward instead of ourselves. Why do you ask?”
“But did they gone nort same as we been a doin’?”
“Yes, so the boer told us.”
“How long was dat ago?”
“Seven months, I think he said.”
“Why for you no tell me afore?”
This question Willem did not think worth answering, and Swartboy for a few minutes was left to his thoughts.
Presently he recommenced the conversation. “Baas Willem,” said he. “I think we bess stop, and talk a bit. Congo no fool, but Swartboy. Swartboy a fool, and no mistake ’bout dat.”
“Well, what has that to do with our stopping for a talk?” asked Willem.
“The boer’s bruder, he come back from the nort without catch any giraffe,” replied the Bushman. “I tink he got some now.”
A light suddenly dawned on the mind of Hans, who stood listening to this dialect. The mysterious conduct of Congo appeared better than half explained.
A halt was immediately ordered, and all gathered around Swartboy.
Nearly twenty minutes was taken up in obtaining from the Bushman the information he had to give. From the answers made to about a hundred questions, the hunters learned that, in the hut where he, Congo, and the Makololo had been so freely entertained, they had seen a Hottentot who had lately returned from a journey to the north.
This Swartboy had understood from a few words the man had muttered while under the influence of the “smoke.”
During the evening, the Hottentot had been called away from the hut, and Swartboy had seen no more of him, nor thought anything of what he had said.
Now, however, on hearing that the boer had a brother who had gone northward on a giraffe hunt, Swartboy conceived the idea that the drunken Hottentot had not been there alone. In all likelihood he had accompanied the expedition. It had returned unsuccessful; and the boer’s brothers had stolen the two giraffes that were now missing.
The more this conjecture was discussed, the more probable it appeared.
No doubt Congo had some suspicion that there was something wrong, and he was keeping it to himself lest he might be mistaken.
Had he stayed behind in the hope of ascertaining the truth? His rude behaviour to his former master in the presence of the boer might have been only a ruse to mislead the latter, and give an opportunity for carrying out some detective contrivance. It was all in keeping with the Kaffir character, and Willem was but too delighted to think that such was the explanation.
“I thought at the time I last saw him,” said Willem, “that there was something in his behaviour unlike what would be shown by a traitor. It seemed to contradict his words. I believe that we have all been very stupid. I hope so. I shall go back and see Congo immediately. I shall demand an explanation. He will tell me all, if I can only get the boer out of the way.”
“I have another idea,” said Hendrik. “The two men we saw hunting for horses, and who told us they had seen our giraffes to the south, were a couple of liars. They did not speak like men telling the truth. I can see it now: we were simpletons to have been so easily deceived. They were the boer’s own brothers,—the very men who have robbed us!”
“Yes,” said Hans; “and they had the assistance of Mynheer Van Ormon in doing it. How easy it is to understand his profuse hospitality now. We have indeed been duped.”
The belief that the giraffes had been stolen was now universal, and our adventurers were only too glad to think so. They much preferred that this should be the case than to think the animals had strayed. There would be a far better chance of recovering them.
It is easy to believe what we most desire, and all agreed that the property had been surreptitiously taken from the shed.
Without saying another word, Groot Willem turned his horse upon his tracks, and rode back towards the kraal of Mynheer Van Ormon.
The boer met him outside the enclosures, apparently surprised to see him return. The moment Willem set eyes upon the man’s face, he saw that there was something amiss. He observed a strong expression of displeasure, accompanied with a glance of uneasiness.
“I have come back to have a chat with my old servant,” said Willem. “He has been with me for so many years that I don’t like to part with him on slight grounds.”
“Ver goot,” answered Van Ormon. “You can see him when he come home. He hash goed after the oxen. If you pleash, take him along mit you when you leave.”
As the sun was now about setting, Willem knew that the Kaffir must soon be coming in with the cattle, and he rode off from the house in the hope of meeting him. Soon a large herd was seen approaching from the plain, and, riding around it, Willem found Congo in company with two Hottentots.
While in the presence of his companions, the Kaffir would not speak to him, but was apparently devoting every thought to the task of directing the movements of the herd. His old master seemed unworthy of his notice.
“We have been all wrong in our conjectures,” thought Willem: “Congo has really deserted me. No man could keep up such an appearance as he is doing. I may go back again.”
He was about to turn away, when Congo, observing that both the Hottentots had gone a few yards ahead, and were busy talking to one another, muttered in a low tone: “Go back, baas Willem, and wait at you camp. I come dar to-morrow mornin’.”
Willem was not only satisfied, but overjoyed. Those words were enough to tell him that his Kaffir was still faithful,—that he was acting for the best, and that all would yet be well. He returned to his companions as cheerful and happy as he had been two nights before, while sitting by the Dutchman’s fireside and, under the exhilarating influence of the Schiedam.
Chapter Sixty Nine.The Kaffir discovers too much.When Congo was made aware that the giraffes were missing, he believed himself more to blame than any one else. Conscience told him that he had neglected his duty. His regret for what had happened inspired him with a strong resolve to do all in his power towards recovering the lost animals. On examining the broken stockade through which they had escaped, he had doubts as to its being their work. In crushing out the posts with the weight of their bodies they must have made a noise that he should have heard; for the giraffes had been tied within ten yards of where he had passed the night. The posts to which they had been attached had not been dragged away, as would have been the case had the animals drawn them out with their rheim fastenings. He had a suspicion that they had been taken down by human hands; but, as the others did not appear to think so, he fancied there might be a possibility of his being wrong. He therefore kept his suspicions to himself. Had he said that the giraffes could not have knocked down the stockade without his hearing them, he would have been told that he was too drunk to hear anything, and his testimony discredited. He knew that he was not.He had observed something else to confirm his suspicion. He remembered the Hottentot, who in his cups declared that he had lately been to the north, where he had seen giraffes hunted and killed. He had heard the Hottentot called out from among the company, and by a man who spoke “boerish English.” The voice was not that of the proprietor of the place, whom he had seen early in the evening; and yet he had observed no other white man about the establishment.Moreover, some saddled horses he had seen in the stables the night before were also gone. It was these things that had determined him to stay at the house and watch. On pretence of hiring himself to the boer he was permitted to remain.Every day something turned up to confirm his suspicions. He had seen the Hottentot sent off, while Willem, Arend, and Hendrik were eating their breakfast inside; and, soon after their departure, he had witnessed the arrival of two white men, who appeared to consider the place their home. Those men, he believed, had been there on the night when the giraffes were missed, and Congo suspected them to be the thieves. He saw them go off again in the direction they had come, equipped as for a hunting expedition, or for some distant journey. He would have followed them, but dared not, lest his doing so might be observed and excite the suspicion of the boer.Believing that they would not go far that night, he made up his mind to track them on the following morning. Stealing away from the shed, where he slept, he took up their spoor as soon as the first light of day would allow of it, and, following this, he soon saw enough to assure him that his suspicions were correct.A journey of ten miles brought him amongst some ranges of steep hills, separated from each other by deep, narrow gorges. On ascending to the top of one of these, he perceived a small column of smoke rising from a ravine below.Throwing his hat upon the ground, and commanding the dog Spoor’em to keep a watch upon it, he stalked forward and soon obtained a view of what was causing the smoke. It was a fire kindled under the shadow of somecameel-doorntrees, as if for the bivouac of hunters.Judging by two animals that stood tied to the trees, Congo knew that they who had kindled the fire were not hunters, but thieves. The animals in question were giraffes,—young ones,—the same that Congo had been driving before him for some hundreds of miles.Contrary to his expectations, there appeared to be but one man in charge of them; and that, neither of the two he had seen the evening before at Van Ormon’s. The men he had been tracking must have visited the camp and gone off again. Their absence was but of little consequence. The giraffes were there, and that was all he wanted. He could now go back and guide the real owners to the spot, who would then be able to reclaim their property. Had the two men he had traced to the camp been seated by the fire, he would no doubt have succeeded in accomplishing his plans. But unfortunately they were not.After noting the topography of the place, so that he might easily recognise it, he turned to depart.Before proceeding twenty paces on his way, he was startled by the report of a gun. The sound was followed by a howl of pain, which he knew came from the hound Spoor’em. At the same instant, trotting out from some bushes on the brow of the hill, he saw two mounted men. One glance told him they were the men he had seen the evening before it the house of Van Ormon. They were those on whose track he had come. Crouching among the bushes, he endeavoured to avoid being seen; but in this he was unsuccessful.A shout from one of the men told him that he was discovered, and soon after the hoof-strokes of the galloping horse told that they were rapidly approaching his hiding-place. Though swift of foot, there was no chance for him to escape; for all that, instinct led him to take to his heels. For some distance down hill, which was very steep, he was able to keep in advance of his mounted pursuers. But once on the level ground, the horsemen soon closed upon him, and the chase was brought to an abrupt termination by one of them striking him from behind with the butt of his gun, and rolling him flat upon his face.
When Congo was made aware that the giraffes were missing, he believed himself more to blame than any one else. Conscience told him that he had neglected his duty. His regret for what had happened inspired him with a strong resolve to do all in his power towards recovering the lost animals. On examining the broken stockade through which they had escaped, he had doubts as to its being their work. In crushing out the posts with the weight of their bodies they must have made a noise that he should have heard; for the giraffes had been tied within ten yards of where he had passed the night. The posts to which they had been attached had not been dragged away, as would have been the case had the animals drawn them out with their rheim fastenings. He had a suspicion that they had been taken down by human hands; but, as the others did not appear to think so, he fancied there might be a possibility of his being wrong. He therefore kept his suspicions to himself. Had he said that the giraffes could not have knocked down the stockade without his hearing them, he would have been told that he was too drunk to hear anything, and his testimony discredited. He knew that he was not.
He had observed something else to confirm his suspicion. He remembered the Hottentot, who in his cups declared that he had lately been to the north, where he had seen giraffes hunted and killed. He had heard the Hottentot called out from among the company, and by a man who spoke “boerish English.” The voice was not that of the proprietor of the place, whom he had seen early in the evening; and yet he had observed no other white man about the establishment.
Moreover, some saddled horses he had seen in the stables the night before were also gone. It was these things that had determined him to stay at the house and watch. On pretence of hiring himself to the boer he was permitted to remain.
Every day something turned up to confirm his suspicions. He had seen the Hottentot sent off, while Willem, Arend, and Hendrik were eating their breakfast inside; and, soon after their departure, he had witnessed the arrival of two white men, who appeared to consider the place their home. Those men, he believed, had been there on the night when the giraffes were missed, and Congo suspected them to be the thieves. He saw them go off again in the direction they had come, equipped as for a hunting expedition, or for some distant journey. He would have followed them, but dared not, lest his doing so might be observed and excite the suspicion of the boer.
Believing that they would not go far that night, he made up his mind to track them on the following morning. Stealing away from the shed, where he slept, he took up their spoor as soon as the first light of day would allow of it, and, following this, he soon saw enough to assure him that his suspicions were correct.
A journey of ten miles brought him amongst some ranges of steep hills, separated from each other by deep, narrow gorges. On ascending to the top of one of these, he perceived a small column of smoke rising from a ravine below.
Throwing his hat upon the ground, and commanding the dog Spoor’em to keep a watch upon it, he stalked forward and soon obtained a view of what was causing the smoke. It was a fire kindled under the shadow of somecameel-doorntrees, as if for the bivouac of hunters.
Judging by two animals that stood tied to the trees, Congo knew that they who had kindled the fire were not hunters, but thieves. The animals in question were giraffes,—young ones,—the same that Congo had been driving before him for some hundreds of miles.
Contrary to his expectations, there appeared to be but one man in charge of them; and that, neither of the two he had seen the evening before at Van Ormon’s. The men he had been tracking must have visited the camp and gone off again. Their absence was but of little consequence. The giraffes were there, and that was all he wanted. He could now go back and guide the real owners to the spot, who would then be able to reclaim their property. Had the two men he had traced to the camp been seated by the fire, he would no doubt have succeeded in accomplishing his plans. But unfortunately they were not.
After noting the topography of the place, so that he might easily recognise it, he turned to depart.
Before proceeding twenty paces on his way, he was startled by the report of a gun. The sound was followed by a howl of pain, which he knew came from the hound Spoor’em. At the same instant, trotting out from some bushes on the brow of the hill, he saw two mounted men. One glance told him they were the men he had seen the evening before it the house of Van Ormon. They were those on whose track he had come. Crouching among the bushes, he endeavoured to avoid being seen; but in this he was unsuccessful.
A shout from one of the men told him that he was discovered, and soon after the hoof-strokes of the galloping horse told that they were rapidly approaching his hiding-place. Though swift of foot, there was no chance for him to escape; for all that, instinct led him to take to his heels. For some distance down hill, which was very steep, he was able to keep in advance of his mounted pursuers. But once on the level ground, the horsemen soon closed upon him, and the chase was brought to an abrupt termination by one of them striking him from behind with the butt of his gun, and rolling him flat upon his face.
Chapter Seventy.Congo a Captive.The horsemen pulled up with a shout of exultation.“What did you stop for?” asked the one who had struck the blow. “Why didn’t you keep on running?” he added with a fiendish laugh, as he leaned over the prostrate body of the Kaffir.“Yaas, why don’t yer go on to tell where der two cameels be, to der fools whom found um?” asked the other. “Why don’t yer do datch?”The two men who were addressing the half-unconscious Congo were the same two Willem, Arend, and Hendrik had met the day before,—the men who had directed them to search to the south. One was the brother of Mynheer Van Ormon, the other was his brother-in-law. They were men who had for many years been living on the borders of the colony,—part of their time engaged in fighting Kaffirs and Griquas, and robbing them of their cattle, the other part in trading with the natives for ostrich-feathers and ivory. They had lately returned from an unsuccessful expedition to the north, the object of which had been to procure two young giraffes, in order to obtain the reward or price offered for them by the consul of the Netherlands. On seeing within the kraal of their kinsman Mynheer Van Ormon, the very animals they had sacrificed so much time in vainly searching for, they could not resist the opportunity of appropriating them. Their idea was, to conceal the animals for a few weeks among the hills, until those to whom they properly belonged, giving them up as lost, should return to their homes. The giraffes might then be taken to Cape Town, and disposed of, without the original owners ever knowing anything of the trick that had been played upon them.Unfortunately for Congo, they had that morning been in search of something for food, and had returned just in time to see him playing spy upon their camp.“This is the villain who pretended to quarrel with his master and leave him,” said the man who had knocked the Kaffir down. “I told Van Ormon to send him off with the others, but he was sure the fellow did not wish to assist them, and could not if he would. By his folly our game has been nearly lost. We’ve just been in time; but what are we to do with the black brute, now that we’ve caught him?”“Kill him!” replied the other, who was the brother of Van Ormon. “He mus never got to de white mens. Dey would come and rob us all.”“Very likely. Some people are bad enough to do anything; but I have half killed this fellow already,—you may do your share, and finish him, if you like.”“No Shames; as you pegins this little job, it is besh you finish it yourself.”Bad as were the two ruffians into whose hands Congo had fallen, neither of them liked to give him thecoup de grace, and, undecided what else to do with him, they tied his hands behind his back.He was then assisted to his feet, and, reeling like a drunken man, was led towards their camp.Congo soon began to recover from the effects of the blow, and became sensible of the danger he was in. By their talk, he could tell that they intended putting him out of the way. From their savage looks and gestures he could see there was but little hope of his life being spared. His captors would not dare to let him escape. He had learned too much to be allowed to live. No assistance could be expected from his master and companions. They were waiting for him far-away.“Is this the game you have brought back?” exclaimed the man sitting over the camp-fire, as the others came up dragging their captive after them.“Yes, and as you are the cook, you must dress it for our dinners,” replied he who answered to the name of “Shames.”“Well, why don’t you tell me what this means?” interrogated the first.“Only this: we have caught a spy. We have been tracked by him to this place. But there’s no great harm done yet. We’re in luck, and nothing can go wrong with us. Our catching this fellow is a proof of it.”A long consultation was now carried on between the ruffians, in which they all agreed in the necessity of putting the prisoner to death.It would never do to let him live. He would in the end bring them into trouble, even if kept a prisoner for years. His tongue must be silenced forever. There was but one way of silencing it. That was, never to allow him to leave the place alive.There was a point upon which his captors were a little in doubt. Had the Kaffir undertaken the task of tracking them upon his own responsibility, or with the knowledge and at the instigation of his masters? In the former case only, would they be safe in destroying him. In the latter, the act might be attended with danger. To make sure of this, one of the three men—Van Ormon’s brother it was—proposed going back to the house, there, if possible, to ascertain how the case stood. To this the other two readily consented; and, mounting his horse, he rode off for the kraal of his kinsman.As soon as he was gone, the others tied Congo to a tree, and then seating themselves under the shade of thecameel-doorn, they proceeded to amuse themselves with a game of cards.Four hours passed,—hours that to the Kaffir seemed days. He was in a state of indescribable agony. The thongs of hide that bound his wrists to the branches were cutting into the flesh, and besides, there was before his mind the positive certainty that he had not much longer to live.The fear of death, however, scarce gave him so much mental pain as his anxiety to know something of the fate of his companions, and his wish that Groot Willem should recover the giraffes. He now regretted that he had not revealed his suspicions at the last interview with his young master. This might have saved the hunters from their loss and himself from the fate that now threatened him. It was too late. He had acted for the best, but acted wrongly.In the afternoon Van Ormon’s brother came riding back to the camp.“Well! what news?” asked James, as he came within speaking distance.“It ish all right. Dey don’t know nothing of what’s up. Mine bruder have constant watch over their camp. They be in von quandary, and will soon go home.”“Is Van Ormon sure that they hadn’t any communication with this Kaffir?” asked James.“Yesh! they had. One of them came to the house, and saw this fella yesterday. But for all that, blackee never said von leetle word to him. They were well watch while they wash togedder.”“Then perhaps it is not all right, as you say. They may have the same suspicion that led him here. Why the deuce don’t they go off home? I don’t like their hanging about so long.”“I tell you, Shames, it ish all right. We have only to get rid of the spy. He must never see the fools who own him, again. What ish we to do with him?”“Send a bullet through his body,” said the man who had been left in charge of the giraffes.“Yes; he must be killed in that way or some other, certainly,” said James; “but which of us is to do it? It’s a pity we did not shoot him down while he was running. Then was the time. I don’t like the thing, now that I’ve cooled down.”Bad as the ruffians were, none of them liked to commit a murder in cold blood. They had determined that Congo must die, yet none of them wished to act as the executioner.After a good deal of discussion and some wrangling, a bright idea flashed across the brain of Van Ormon’s brother. He proposed that their prisoner should be taken to a pool that was some distance down the gorge; that he be tied to a tree by the side of the pool, and left there for the night.“I see de spoor of lion dare every mornin’,” said he, grinning horribly as he spoke. “I’ll bet mine life we find no more of dis black fella ash a few red spots.”This plan was agreeable to all; and at sundown the Kaffir was released from his fastenings, conducted down the narrow valley, and firmly spliced to a sapling that stood close to the edge of the pool.To provide against any chance of his being heard and released by a stray traveller, a stick was stuck crosswise in his mouth, the bight of a string made fast over each end of it, and then securely knotted at the back of his head.After taking a survey of his fastenings, to see that there was no danger of their coming undone, his cruel captors made him a mocking salute; and, bidding him “good bye,” strode off towards their camp.
The horsemen pulled up with a shout of exultation.
“What did you stop for?” asked the one who had struck the blow. “Why didn’t you keep on running?” he added with a fiendish laugh, as he leaned over the prostrate body of the Kaffir.
“Yaas, why don’t yer go on to tell where der two cameels be, to der fools whom found um?” asked the other. “Why don’t yer do datch?”
The two men who were addressing the half-unconscious Congo were the same two Willem, Arend, and Hendrik had met the day before,—the men who had directed them to search to the south. One was the brother of Mynheer Van Ormon, the other was his brother-in-law. They were men who had for many years been living on the borders of the colony,—part of their time engaged in fighting Kaffirs and Griquas, and robbing them of their cattle, the other part in trading with the natives for ostrich-feathers and ivory. They had lately returned from an unsuccessful expedition to the north, the object of which had been to procure two young giraffes, in order to obtain the reward or price offered for them by the consul of the Netherlands. On seeing within the kraal of their kinsman Mynheer Van Ormon, the very animals they had sacrificed so much time in vainly searching for, they could not resist the opportunity of appropriating them. Their idea was, to conceal the animals for a few weeks among the hills, until those to whom they properly belonged, giving them up as lost, should return to their homes. The giraffes might then be taken to Cape Town, and disposed of, without the original owners ever knowing anything of the trick that had been played upon them.
Unfortunately for Congo, they had that morning been in search of something for food, and had returned just in time to see him playing spy upon their camp.
“This is the villain who pretended to quarrel with his master and leave him,” said the man who had knocked the Kaffir down. “I told Van Ormon to send him off with the others, but he was sure the fellow did not wish to assist them, and could not if he would. By his folly our game has been nearly lost. We’ve just been in time; but what are we to do with the black brute, now that we’ve caught him?”
“Kill him!” replied the other, who was the brother of Van Ormon. “He mus never got to de white mens. Dey would come and rob us all.”
“Very likely. Some people are bad enough to do anything; but I have half killed this fellow already,—you may do your share, and finish him, if you like.”
“No Shames; as you pegins this little job, it is besh you finish it yourself.”
Bad as were the two ruffians into whose hands Congo had fallen, neither of them liked to give him thecoup de grace, and, undecided what else to do with him, they tied his hands behind his back.
He was then assisted to his feet, and, reeling like a drunken man, was led towards their camp.
Congo soon began to recover from the effects of the blow, and became sensible of the danger he was in. By their talk, he could tell that they intended putting him out of the way. From their savage looks and gestures he could see there was but little hope of his life being spared. His captors would not dare to let him escape. He had learned too much to be allowed to live. No assistance could be expected from his master and companions. They were waiting for him far-away.
“Is this the game you have brought back?” exclaimed the man sitting over the camp-fire, as the others came up dragging their captive after them.
“Yes, and as you are the cook, you must dress it for our dinners,” replied he who answered to the name of “Shames.”
“Well, why don’t you tell me what this means?” interrogated the first.
“Only this: we have caught a spy. We have been tracked by him to this place. But there’s no great harm done yet. We’re in luck, and nothing can go wrong with us. Our catching this fellow is a proof of it.”
A long consultation was now carried on between the ruffians, in which they all agreed in the necessity of putting the prisoner to death.
It would never do to let him live. He would in the end bring them into trouble, even if kept a prisoner for years. His tongue must be silenced forever. There was but one way of silencing it. That was, never to allow him to leave the place alive.
There was a point upon which his captors were a little in doubt. Had the Kaffir undertaken the task of tracking them upon his own responsibility, or with the knowledge and at the instigation of his masters? In the former case only, would they be safe in destroying him. In the latter, the act might be attended with danger. To make sure of this, one of the three men—Van Ormon’s brother it was—proposed going back to the house, there, if possible, to ascertain how the case stood. To this the other two readily consented; and, mounting his horse, he rode off for the kraal of his kinsman.
As soon as he was gone, the others tied Congo to a tree, and then seating themselves under the shade of thecameel-doorn, they proceeded to amuse themselves with a game of cards.
Four hours passed,—hours that to the Kaffir seemed days. He was in a state of indescribable agony. The thongs of hide that bound his wrists to the branches were cutting into the flesh, and besides, there was before his mind the positive certainty that he had not much longer to live.
The fear of death, however, scarce gave him so much mental pain as his anxiety to know something of the fate of his companions, and his wish that Groot Willem should recover the giraffes. He now regretted that he had not revealed his suspicions at the last interview with his young master. This might have saved the hunters from their loss and himself from the fate that now threatened him. It was too late. He had acted for the best, but acted wrongly.
In the afternoon Van Ormon’s brother came riding back to the camp.
“Well! what news?” asked James, as he came within speaking distance.
“It ish all right. Dey don’t know nothing of what’s up. Mine bruder have constant watch over their camp. They be in von quandary, and will soon go home.”
“Is Van Ormon sure that they hadn’t any communication with this Kaffir?” asked James.
“Yesh! they had. One of them came to the house, and saw this fella yesterday. But for all that, blackee never said von leetle word to him. They were well watch while they wash togedder.”
“Then perhaps it is not all right, as you say. They may have the same suspicion that led him here. Why the deuce don’t they go off home? I don’t like their hanging about so long.”
“I tell you, Shames, it ish all right. We have only to get rid of the spy. He must never see the fools who own him, again. What ish we to do with him?”
“Send a bullet through his body,” said the man who had been left in charge of the giraffes.
“Yes; he must be killed in that way or some other, certainly,” said James; “but which of us is to do it? It’s a pity we did not shoot him down while he was running. Then was the time. I don’t like the thing, now that I’ve cooled down.”
Bad as the ruffians were, none of them liked to commit a murder in cold blood. They had determined that Congo must die, yet none of them wished to act as the executioner.
After a good deal of discussion and some wrangling, a bright idea flashed across the brain of Van Ormon’s brother. He proposed that their prisoner should be taken to a pool that was some distance down the gorge; that he be tied to a tree by the side of the pool, and left there for the night.
“I see de spoor of lion dare every mornin’,” said he, grinning horribly as he spoke. “I’ll bet mine life we find no more of dis black fella ash a few red spots.”
This plan was agreeable to all; and at sundown the Kaffir was released from his fastenings, conducted down the narrow valley, and firmly spliced to a sapling that stood close to the edge of the pool.
To provide against any chance of his being heard and released by a stray traveller, a stick was stuck crosswise in his mouth, the bight of a string made fast over each end of it, and then securely knotted at the back of his head.
After taking a survey of his fastenings, to see that there was no danger of their coming undone, his cruel captors made him a mocking salute; and, bidding him “good bye,” strode off towards their camp.
Chapter Seventy One.A Fight by Firelight.Anxiously did Groot Willem wait for the next morning and the promised visit from Congo.But the morning came and passed without any Congo, Willem became impatient, and could not content himself any longer in the camp.“This will not do,” he exclaimed, as he saw that the sun was again going down in the sky. “We must not remain here. Perhaps Congocannotcome. Of course he cannot, or he would have been here before now. We must look for him, but it will not do for all of us to go together. Hendrik, will you come with me?”Hendrik readily responded to the invitation. The two mounted their horses and rode off towards the residence of Van Ormon.From the behaviour of Congo when Willem had last seen him, the latter was quite certain that his visits at the kraal were not desired. The Kaffir probably supposed that they might interfere with his plans, by bringing suspicion upon himself.This, however, did not prevent Willem from going to see him once more.Congo had broken his promise; and that was a proof that something must be wrong.On their new visit to Mynheer Van Ormon, this gentleman did not take the slightest trouble to show them civility.“Dat plack villen you call Congo,” said he, “goed away last night. We thought he vash mit you. When you fints him again take him to der tuyfel, if you likes, and keep him dare.”“Do you think he has gone away from this place?” asked Willem of Hendrik, as they rode out from Van Ormon’s enclosures.“Yes,” answered Hendrik; “I see no reason to doubt it.”“But why did he not come to me, as he promised?”“There’s some good reason for his not having done so.”“I wish I knew in what direction he has gone.”“That difficulty may soon be removed,” said Hendrik. “I fancy I can tell it to a point of the compass. It will be found a little to east of north.”“Why do you say that?”“Because it was in that quarter we encountered the two men on the day after the giraffes were missing. Moreover, we know they are not south, for that is the way those false guides wanted us to take.”Too excited to return to camp without doing something, Willem proposed that they should ride out on the plain towards the north-east, and see whether anything could be learned about Congo. To this Hendrik agreed; and, after going southward about a mile from Van Ormon’s house, they turned, rode circuitously around it, and then struck off for the north-east.They had no great hope of finding the object of their search, but it was necessary for them to do something; and, as Hendrik’s surmise was not without some probability, they kept on.After making about five miles across the plain, they came within sight of some hills that began to loom up on the horizon to the north-east. They were still, to all appearance, about four miles distant.“Just the place where our property might be concealed,” suggested Hendrik. “No one would hide giraffes on a plain. If we do not find them yonder, and this very night, we deserve to lose them.”The sun was just setting as they reached the crest of the first range of hills. Looking back over the road they had just travelled, a horseman was seen coming across the plain, a mile distant from the spot where they had halted.“If we watch that man,” said Hendrik, “and not let him see us, we shall probably find what we’re in search of. If not one of the thieves themselves, he looks to me very like a messenger going to them from Van Ormon’s. From the behaviour of the boer, I’m now convinced that our giraffes have been stolen, and Van Ormon himself is the thief.”Riding in among some trees, they dismounted, and, securing their horses in the cover, watched the man who was approaching from the plain.In the twilight, they saw him toil slowly up the slope, a little to the east of them, and then continue his course over the summit of the ridge, going on toward the next.The night was now so dark that he could not be kept in sight without their riding very near to him. In this there would be danger. The hoof-strokes of their horses might be heard. To avoid this they permitted him to keep far in the advance, and rode slowly and noiselessly after, trusting to chance to conduct them upon his track.Fortune favoured them.On mounting a hill about half a mile from the place where they had last seen the lone horseman, they came in sight of a camp-fire that appeared burning in the bottom of the ravine below. Both dismounted, tied their horses to the trees, and silently stole towards the light.It grew larger and brighter as they advanced upon it. Without the slightest danger of being themselves seen, they drew nearer and nearer, until they could make out the figures of three men seated around the fire. These appeared engaged in an earnest confabulation.But for the messenger who had gone back to the house of Mynheer Van Ormon, Willem and Hendrik might have long wandered amongst the hills without seeing anything to reward them for their journey. As it was, they saw that which caused Willem a thrill of joy,—so intense he could scarce restrain himself from crying out.Congo’s suspicions, whether based upon instinct or reason had not been idle fancies. Tied to a tree under the glare of the camp-fire stood two young giraffes,—the animals that had not strayed but been stolen.A hurried consultation took place between the two hunters. They must obtain possession of their property, but how? They did not wish to be killed in the endeavour to right themselves, and they did not wish to kill those who had robbed them, if they could avoid doing so.“Let us give them a chance,” said Willem. “If they will surrender the stolen giraffes peaceably, we shall let them off. If not, then I mean to shoot them down without mercy. We must take the law into our own hands. There is not a court or magistrate within one hundred miles of us.”While they were thus hastily arranging upon a plan of action, the three men seated around the fire commenced cooking their suppers.Only a few words more were interchanged between Willem and Hendrik, who had come to an understanding as to how they should act. Carrying their guns at full cock, they stepped silently forward side by side and close together. Under cover of the timber they advanced within ten paces of the unsuspecting thieves, and then boldly stepped out into the light.“Keep your seats,” cried Groot Willem in a loud, commanding voice. “The first of you that stirs shall die like a dog!”The man known as “Shames,” showed signs of an intention to spring to his feet and seize hold of a gun that lay near.“Don’t! for your soul’s sake, don’t!” shouted the great hunter.The warning was not heeded; and the man rushed toward the gun, took it up and at once brought it to the level. But before he could touch his trigger, Willem’s roer delivered its loud report, and the thief fell forward on to the fire.Van Ormon’s brother, not heeding the fate of his companion, made some show of resistance; but this was instantly ended by a blow from the butt of Groot Willem’s gun, which he now held clenched in his hand. The third of the thieves did not stay for similar treatment, but bolted from the camp at a pace that would have left most horses behind him.The guns of all three were picked up, discharged, and then smashed against a tree. The giraffes were untied and taken up to the place where the horses had been left. After which, Willem and Hendrik mounted into their saddles, and, leading the camelopards behind them, commenced a backward march toward camp, where they had left their companions.The fate of the two men left by the fire remained from that moment unknown to our adventurers. Nor did they care to inquire about it. Before leaving the spot, it was seen that neither of them had received a mortal wound; and, as there was still one unharmed to take care of them, in all probability they recovered.That, at least, was the hope and belief of the hunters.
Anxiously did Groot Willem wait for the next morning and the promised visit from Congo.
But the morning came and passed without any Congo, Willem became impatient, and could not content himself any longer in the camp.
“This will not do,” he exclaimed, as he saw that the sun was again going down in the sky. “We must not remain here. Perhaps Congocannotcome. Of course he cannot, or he would have been here before now. We must look for him, but it will not do for all of us to go together. Hendrik, will you come with me?”
Hendrik readily responded to the invitation. The two mounted their horses and rode off towards the residence of Van Ormon.
From the behaviour of Congo when Willem had last seen him, the latter was quite certain that his visits at the kraal were not desired. The Kaffir probably supposed that they might interfere with his plans, by bringing suspicion upon himself.
This, however, did not prevent Willem from going to see him once more.
Congo had broken his promise; and that was a proof that something must be wrong.
On their new visit to Mynheer Van Ormon, this gentleman did not take the slightest trouble to show them civility.
“Dat plack villen you call Congo,” said he, “goed away last night. We thought he vash mit you. When you fints him again take him to der tuyfel, if you likes, and keep him dare.”
“Do you think he has gone away from this place?” asked Willem of Hendrik, as they rode out from Van Ormon’s enclosures.
“Yes,” answered Hendrik; “I see no reason to doubt it.”
“But why did he not come to me, as he promised?”
“There’s some good reason for his not having done so.”
“I wish I knew in what direction he has gone.”
“That difficulty may soon be removed,” said Hendrik. “I fancy I can tell it to a point of the compass. It will be found a little to east of north.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it was in that quarter we encountered the two men on the day after the giraffes were missing. Moreover, we know they are not south, for that is the way those false guides wanted us to take.”
Too excited to return to camp without doing something, Willem proposed that they should ride out on the plain towards the north-east, and see whether anything could be learned about Congo. To this Hendrik agreed; and, after going southward about a mile from Van Ormon’s house, they turned, rode circuitously around it, and then struck off for the north-east.
They had no great hope of finding the object of their search, but it was necessary for them to do something; and, as Hendrik’s surmise was not without some probability, they kept on.
After making about five miles across the plain, they came within sight of some hills that began to loom up on the horizon to the north-east. They were still, to all appearance, about four miles distant.
“Just the place where our property might be concealed,” suggested Hendrik. “No one would hide giraffes on a plain. If we do not find them yonder, and this very night, we deserve to lose them.”
The sun was just setting as they reached the crest of the first range of hills. Looking back over the road they had just travelled, a horseman was seen coming across the plain, a mile distant from the spot where they had halted.
“If we watch that man,” said Hendrik, “and not let him see us, we shall probably find what we’re in search of. If not one of the thieves themselves, he looks to me very like a messenger going to them from Van Ormon’s. From the behaviour of the boer, I’m now convinced that our giraffes have been stolen, and Van Ormon himself is the thief.”
Riding in among some trees, they dismounted, and, securing their horses in the cover, watched the man who was approaching from the plain.
In the twilight, they saw him toil slowly up the slope, a little to the east of them, and then continue his course over the summit of the ridge, going on toward the next.
The night was now so dark that he could not be kept in sight without their riding very near to him. In this there would be danger. The hoof-strokes of their horses might be heard. To avoid this they permitted him to keep far in the advance, and rode slowly and noiselessly after, trusting to chance to conduct them upon his track.
Fortune favoured them.
On mounting a hill about half a mile from the place where they had last seen the lone horseman, they came in sight of a camp-fire that appeared burning in the bottom of the ravine below. Both dismounted, tied their horses to the trees, and silently stole towards the light.
It grew larger and brighter as they advanced upon it. Without the slightest danger of being themselves seen, they drew nearer and nearer, until they could make out the figures of three men seated around the fire. These appeared engaged in an earnest confabulation.
But for the messenger who had gone back to the house of Mynheer Van Ormon, Willem and Hendrik might have long wandered amongst the hills without seeing anything to reward them for their journey. As it was, they saw that which caused Willem a thrill of joy,—so intense he could scarce restrain himself from crying out.
Congo’s suspicions, whether based upon instinct or reason had not been idle fancies. Tied to a tree under the glare of the camp-fire stood two young giraffes,—the animals that had not strayed but been stolen.
A hurried consultation took place between the two hunters. They must obtain possession of their property, but how? They did not wish to be killed in the endeavour to right themselves, and they did not wish to kill those who had robbed them, if they could avoid doing so.
“Let us give them a chance,” said Willem. “If they will surrender the stolen giraffes peaceably, we shall let them off. If not, then I mean to shoot them down without mercy. We must take the law into our own hands. There is not a court or magistrate within one hundred miles of us.”
While they were thus hastily arranging upon a plan of action, the three men seated around the fire commenced cooking their suppers.
Only a few words more were interchanged between Willem and Hendrik, who had come to an understanding as to how they should act. Carrying their guns at full cock, they stepped silently forward side by side and close together. Under cover of the timber they advanced within ten paces of the unsuspecting thieves, and then boldly stepped out into the light.
“Keep your seats,” cried Groot Willem in a loud, commanding voice. “The first of you that stirs shall die like a dog!”
The man known as “Shames,” showed signs of an intention to spring to his feet and seize hold of a gun that lay near.
“Don’t! for your soul’s sake, don’t!” shouted the great hunter.
The warning was not heeded; and the man rushed toward the gun, took it up and at once brought it to the level. But before he could touch his trigger, Willem’s roer delivered its loud report, and the thief fell forward on to the fire.
Van Ormon’s brother, not heeding the fate of his companion, made some show of resistance; but this was instantly ended by a blow from the butt of Groot Willem’s gun, which he now held clenched in his hand. The third of the thieves did not stay for similar treatment, but bolted from the camp at a pace that would have left most horses behind him.
The guns of all three were picked up, discharged, and then smashed against a tree. The giraffes were untied and taken up to the place where the horses had been left. After which, Willem and Hendrik mounted into their saddles, and, leading the camelopards behind them, commenced a backward march toward camp, where they had left their companions.
The fate of the two men left by the fire remained from that moment unknown to our adventurers. Nor did they care to inquire about it. Before leaving the spot, it was seen that neither of them had received a mortal wound; and, as there was still one unharmed to take care of them, in all probability they recovered.That, at least, was the hope and belief of the hunters.
Chapter Seventy Two.All right once more.On finding himself tied to a tree, gagged, and abandoned Congo could see but one chance of his being released from his confinement, and that was by some beast of prey.He was quite sure that those who had left him there would never return to relieve him. His reflections were anything but pleasant. They bore some resemblance to those of a sick man, who has been assured by his physician that there isNochance for him to recover.The Kaffir was not one to give way to a cowardly fear of death, but there was another thought in his mind almost as disagreeable, and that was the chagrin he felt of not being able to see his beloved master again, and make known his discovery of the giraffes.He even thought, while waiting for his approaching fate, that, if by any means he could let Groot Willem know where his property was concealed, he could then die content.An hour passed, and a heavy darkness gathered around him. It was the shades of night. A few small animals of the antelope kind came trotting up to the pool, and quenched their thirst.They were followed by some jackals. Other visitors might soon be expected,—visitors that might not depart without rudely releasing him from his confinement.Half an hour later, and his eyes, piercing through the gloom of the night, became fixed upon a quadruped, whose species he could not well make out. It appeared about the size of a leopard. It was crawling slowly and silently towards him.It drew nearer; and just as he thought it was about to spring upon him, it uttered a low, moaning noise. Congo recognised the dog Spoor’em.For a moment there was joy in the African’s soul. The faithful dog was still living, and had not forsaken him. If he was to die, it would be in company of the most affectionate friend a man can have among the brute creation. Groot Willem and the giraffes were for a while forgotten.As the dog crawled close up to him, Congo saw that it carried one leg raised up from the ground, and that the hair from the shoulder downwards was clotted with blood.Spoor’em appeared to forget the pain of his wound, in the joy of again meeting his master, and never had Congo felt so strongly the wish to be able to speak. Gagged as he was, he could not. Not one kind word of encouragement could he give to the creature that, despite its own sufferings, had not forsaken him. He knew that the dog was listening for the familiar tones of his voice, and looked reproachful that he was not allowed to hear them.Congo did not wish even a brute to think him ungrateful, and yet there was no way by which he could let Spoor’em know that such was the case.Not long after the arrival of the dog, Congo heard the report of a gun. To the sharp ears of the Kaffir it seemed to have a familiar sound. It was very loud, and like the report of aroer. It sounded like Groot Willem’s gun, but how could the hunter be there? Congo could not hope it was he. Some minutes of profound silence succeeded the shot, which was then followed by three others, and once more all was still. A quarter of an hour passed, and hoof-strokes were heard on the hill above; a party of horsemen were riding along the crest of the ridge. Congo could hear their voices, mingling with the heavy footfall of the horses.They were about to pass by the spot. “The thieves,” thought Congo. “They are shifting their quarters.”They were not more than a hundred yards from the tree where he was tied; and, as they came opposite, and just as he became satisfied that they were going on without chance of seeing him, he heard a sort of struggle, followed by the words: “Hold up a minute, Hendrik; my horse has got on one side of a tree, and Tootla the other.”The voice was Willem’s, and “Tootla” was the name of one of the young giraffes!Congo made a desperate effort to free his hands from their fastenings, as well as to remove the stick that was distending his jaws. The struggle was in vain.There appeared no way by which he could sound an alarm and let his friends know that he was near. He could think of none.They were leaving him. They would return to Graaf Reinet, and he should be left to die at the foot of the tree, or be torn from it by wild beasts. He was almost frantic with despair, when an idea suddenly occurred to him.He could not speak himself, but why could not the dog do so for him.His feet were still free, and, raising one of them, he gave Spoor’em a kick,—a cruel kick.The poor animal crouched at his feet and uttered a low whine. It could not have been heard thirty paces away.Again the foot was lifted, and dashed against the ribs of the unfortunate dog, that neither made an effort to avoid the blow nor any complaint at receiving it.The only answer vouchsafed was but a low, querulous whine, that seemed to say, “Why is this, master? In what have I offended you?”Just as the foot was lifted for the third time, the air reverberated to a long, loud roar. It was the voice of a hungry lion, that appeared to be only a few paces from the spot.Spoor’em instantly sprang to his feet, and answered the King of beasts by a loud defiant bark.The faithful animal that would not resist its master’s ill-treatment, was but too ready to defend that master from the attack of a third party.In the bark of Spoor’em there was an idiosyncrasy. It was heard and instantly recognised.The moment after Congo had the pleasure of hearing the tramp of horses, as they came trotting down the hill; and the voice of Willem calling out to him!When released from the tree, and the gag taken from his mouth, the first words he uttered were those of apology to Spoor’em, for the kicks he had just administered!From the demonstrations made by the dumb creature, there was every reason to believe that he accepted the apology in the spirit in which it was given!Willem compelled Congo, who had now been thirty-six hours without food, to mount upon his own horse; but this the Kaffir would consent to do only on the condition that he would be allowed to take Spoor’em up along with him.They at once started away from the spot, and by an early hour of the following morning reached the camp, where Hans, Arend, and the others had remained.Swartboy, in the joy of seeing them again, increased by the sight of the giraffes, declared that he would never more call Congo a fool.This promise he has never been known to break.In the afternoon, the journey towards Graaf Reinet was resumed. Spoor’em being carried for two or three days on the back of one of the oxen, snugly ensconced in a large willow basket, woven by Congo for that express purpose.
On finding himself tied to a tree, gagged, and abandoned Congo could see but one chance of his being released from his confinement, and that was by some beast of prey.
He was quite sure that those who had left him there would never return to relieve him. His reflections were anything but pleasant. They bore some resemblance to those of a sick man, who has been assured by his physician that there isNochance for him to recover.
The Kaffir was not one to give way to a cowardly fear of death, but there was another thought in his mind almost as disagreeable, and that was the chagrin he felt of not being able to see his beloved master again, and make known his discovery of the giraffes.
He even thought, while waiting for his approaching fate, that, if by any means he could let Groot Willem know where his property was concealed, he could then die content.
An hour passed, and a heavy darkness gathered around him. It was the shades of night. A few small animals of the antelope kind came trotting up to the pool, and quenched their thirst.
They were followed by some jackals. Other visitors might soon be expected,—visitors that might not depart without rudely releasing him from his confinement.
Half an hour later, and his eyes, piercing through the gloom of the night, became fixed upon a quadruped, whose species he could not well make out. It appeared about the size of a leopard. It was crawling slowly and silently towards him.
It drew nearer; and just as he thought it was about to spring upon him, it uttered a low, moaning noise. Congo recognised the dog Spoor’em.
For a moment there was joy in the African’s soul. The faithful dog was still living, and had not forsaken him. If he was to die, it would be in company of the most affectionate friend a man can have among the brute creation. Groot Willem and the giraffes were for a while forgotten.
As the dog crawled close up to him, Congo saw that it carried one leg raised up from the ground, and that the hair from the shoulder downwards was clotted with blood.
Spoor’em appeared to forget the pain of his wound, in the joy of again meeting his master, and never had Congo felt so strongly the wish to be able to speak. Gagged as he was, he could not. Not one kind word of encouragement could he give to the creature that, despite its own sufferings, had not forsaken him. He knew that the dog was listening for the familiar tones of his voice, and looked reproachful that he was not allowed to hear them.
Congo did not wish even a brute to think him ungrateful, and yet there was no way by which he could let Spoor’em know that such was the case.
Not long after the arrival of the dog, Congo heard the report of a gun. To the sharp ears of the Kaffir it seemed to have a familiar sound. It was very loud, and like the report of aroer. It sounded like Groot Willem’s gun, but how could the hunter be there? Congo could not hope it was he. Some minutes of profound silence succeeded the shot, which was then followed by three others, and once more all was still. A quarter of an hour passed, and hoof-strokes were heard on the hill above; a party of horsemen were riding along the crest of the ridge. Congo could hear their voices, mingling with the heavy footfall of the horses.
They were about to pass by the spot. “The thieves,” thought Congo. “They are shifting their quarters.”
They were not more than a hundred yards from the tree where he was tied; and, as they came opposite, and just as he became satisfied that they were going on without chance of seeing him, he heard a sort of struggle, followed by the words: “Hold up a minute, Hendrik; my horse has got on one side of a tree, and Tootla the other.”
The voice was Willem’s, and “Tootla” was the name of one of the young giraffes!
Congo made a desperate effort to free his hands from their fastenings, as well as to remove the stick that was distending his jaws. The struggle was in vain.
There appeared no way by which he could sound an alarm and let his friends know that he was near. He could think of none.
They were leaving him. They would return to Graaf Reinet, and he should be left to die at the foot of the tree, or be torn from it by wild beasts. He was almost frantic with despair, when an idea suddenly occurred to him.
He could not speak himself, but why could not the dog do so for him.
His feet were still free, and, raising one of them, he gave Spoor’em a kick,—a cruel kick.
The poor animal crouched at his feet and uttered a low whine. It could not have been heard thirty paces away.
Again the foot was lifted, and dashed against the ribs of the unfortunate dog, that neither made an effort to avoid the blow nor any complaint at receiving it.
The only answer vouchsafed was but a low, querulous whine, that seemed to say, “Why is this, master? In what have I offended you?”
Just as the foot was lifted for the third time, the air reverberated to a long, loud roar. It was the voice of a hungry lion, that appeared to be only a few paces from the spot.
Spoor’em instantly sprang to his feet, and answered the King of beasts by a loud defiant bark.
The faithful animal that would not resist its master’s ill-treatment, was but too ready to defend that master from the attack of a third party.
In the bark of Spoor’em there was an idiosyncrasy. It was heard and instantly recognised.
The moment after Congo had the pleasure of hearing the tramp of horses, as they came trotting down the hill; and the voice of Willem calling out to him!
When released from the tree, and the gag taken from his mouth, the first words he uttered were those of apology to Spoor’em, for the kicks he had just administered!
From the demonstrations made by the dumb creature, there was every reason to believe that he accepted the apology in the spirit in which it was given!
Willem compelled Congo, who had now been thirty-six hours without food, to mount upon his own horse; but this the Kaffir would consent to do only on the condition that he would be allowed to take Spoor’em up along with him.
They at once started away from the spot, and by an early hour of the following morning reached the camp, where Hans, Arend, and the others had remained.
Swartboy, in the joy of seeing them again, increased by the sight of the giraffes, declared that he would never more call Congo a fool.
This promise he has never been known to break.
In the afternoon, the journey towards Graaf Reinet was resumed. Spoor’em being carried for two or three days on the back of one of the oxen, snugly ensconced in a large willow basket, woven by Congo for that express purpose.