It occurred to Hendrik that it might be their habit to browse up the wind, as springboks and some other species do. If so, he might as well give it up, or else make a long circuit and _head_ them. To do this would be a work of labour and of time, and a very uncertain stalk it would be in the end. After all his long tramping, and creeping, and crouching, the game would be like enough to scent him before they came within shot--for it is for this very reason that their instinct teaches them to browse _against_, and not _with_ the wind.

As the plain was large, and the cover very distant, Hendrik was discouraged and gave up the design he had half formed of trying to head them.

He was about to rise to his feet, and return home, when it occurred to him that perhaps he might find a decoy available. He knew there were several species of antelopes, with whom curiosity was stronger than fear. He had often lured the springbok within reach. Why would not these obey the same impulse?

He determined to make trial. At the worst he could only fail, and he had no chance of getting a shot otherwise.

Without losing a moment he thrust his hand into his pocket. He should have found there a large red handkerchief which he had more than once used for a similar purpose. To his chagrin it was not there!

He dived into both pockets of his jacket, then into his wide trousers, then under the breast of his waistcoat. No. The handkerchief was not to be found. Alas! it had been left in the wagon! It was very annoying.

What else could he make use of? Take off his jacket and hold it up? It was not gay enough in colour. It would not do.

Should he raise his hat upon the end of his gun? That might be better, but still it would look too much like the human form, and Hendrik knew that all animals feared that.

A happy thought at length occurred to him. He had heard, that with the curious antelopes, strange forms or movements attract almost as much as glaring colours. He remembered a trick that was said to be practised with success by the hunters. It was easy enough, and consisted merely in the hunter standing upon his hands and head, and kicking his heels in the air!

Now Hendrik happened to be one of those very boys who had often practised this little bit of gymnastics for amus.e.m.e.nt; and he could stand upon his head like an acrobat.

Without losing a moment he placed his rifle upon the ground, between his hands, and hoisting his feet into the air, commenced kicking them about, clinking them together, and crossing them in the most fantastic manner.

He had placed himself so that his face was turned towards the animals, while he stood upon his head. Of course he could not see them while in this position, as the gra.s.s was a foot high; but, at intervals, he permitted his feet to descend to the earth; and then, by looking between his legs, he could tell how the ruse was succeeding.

It _did_ succeed. The buck, on first perceiving the strange object, uttered a sharp whistle, and darted off with the swiftness of a bird-- for the "ourebi" is one of the swiftest of African antelopes. The doe followed, though not so fast, and soon fell into the rear.

The buck, perceiving this, suddenly halted--as if ashamed of his want of gallantry--wheeled round, and galloped back, until he was once more between the doe and the odd thing that had alarmed him.

What could this odd thing be? he now seemed to inquire of himself. It was not a lion, nor a leopard, nor a hyena, nor yet a jackal. It was neither fox, nor fennec, nor earth-wolf, nor wild hound, nor any of his well-known enemies. It was not a Bushman neither, for they are not double-headed as it appeared. What _could_ it be? It had kept its place--it had not pursued him. Perhaps it was not at all dangerous. No doubt it was harmless enough.

So reasoned the ourebi. His curiosity overcame his fear. He would go a little nearer. He would have a better view of the thing before he took to flight. No matter what it was, it could do no hurt at that distance; and as to _overtaking him_, pah! there wasn't a creature, biped or quadruped, in all Africa that he could not fling dust in the face of.

So he went a little nearer, and then a little nearer still, and continued to advance by successive runs, now this way and now that way, zigzagging over the plain, until he was within less than a hundred paces of the odd object that at first light had so terrified him.

His companion, the doe, kept close after him; and seemed quite as curious as himself--her large shining eyes opened to their full extent, as she stopped to gaze at intervals.

Sometimes the two met each other in their course; and halted a moment, as though they held consultation in whispers; and asked each other if they had yet made out the character of the stranger.

It was evident, however, that neither had done so--as they still continued to approach it with looks and gestures of inquiry and wonder.

At length the odd object disappeared for a moment under the gra.s.s; and then reappeared,--but this time in an altered form. Something about it glanced brightly under the sun, and this glancing quite fascinated the buck, so that he could not stir from the spot, but stood eyeing it steadily.

Fatal fascination! It was his last gaze. A bright flash shot up-- something struck him through the heart, and he saw the shining object no more!

The doe bounded forward to where her mate had fallen, and stood bleating over him. She knew not the cause of his sudden death, but she saw that he was dead. The wound in his side--the stream of red blood--were under her eyes. She had never witnessed death in that form before, but she knew her lover was dead. His silence--his form stretched along the gra.s.s motionless and limber--his gla.s.sy eyes--all told her he had ceased to live.

She would have fled, but she could not leave him--she could not bear to part even from his lifeless form. She would remain a while, and mourn over him.

Her widowhood was a short one. Again flashed the priming,--again cracked the shining tube--and the sorrowing doe fell over upon the body of her mate.

The young hunter rose to his feet, and ran forward. He did not, according to usual custom, stop to load before approaching his quarry.

The plain was perfectly level, and he saw no other animal upon it. What was his surprise on reaching the antelopes, to perceive that there was a _third_ one of the party still alive!

Yes, a little fawn, not taller than a rabbit, was bounding about through the gra.s.s, running around the prostrate body of its mother, and uttering its tiny bleat.

Hendrik was surprised, because he had not observed this creature before; but, indeed, he had not seen much of the antelopes until the moment of taking aim, and the gra.s.s had concealed the tiny young one.

Hunter as Hendrik was, he could not help feeling strongly as he regarded the _tableau_ before him. But he felt that he had not wantonly destroyed these creatures for mere amus.e.m.e.nt, and that satisfied his conscience.

The little fawn would make a famous pet for Jan, who had often wished for one, to be equal with his sister. It could be fed upon the cow's milk, and, though it had lost both father and mother, Hendrik resolved that it should be carefully brought up. He had no difficulty in capturing it, as it refused to leave the spot where its mother lay, and Hendrik soon held the gentle creature in his arms.

He then tied the buck and doe together; and, having fastened a strong cord round the horns of the latter, he set off dragging the two antelopes behind him.

As these lay upon the ground, heads foremost, they were drawn _with the grain of the hair_, which made it much easier; and as there was nothing but gra.s.s sward to be pa.s.sed over, the young hunter succeeded in taking the whole of his game to camp without any great difficulty.

The joy of all was great, at seeing such a fine lot of venison, but Jan's rejoicing was greater than all; and he no longer envied Truey the possession of her little gazelle.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

LITTLE JAN'S ADVENTURE.

It would have been better that Jan had never seen the little "ourebi,"-- better both for Jan and the antelope, for that night the innocent creature was the cause of a terrible panic in the camp.

They had all gone to sleep as on the previous night,--Von Bloom and the four children in the wagon, while the Bushman and Totty slept upon the gra.s.s. The latter lay under the wagon; but Swartboy had kindled a large fire at a little distance from it, and beside this had stretched himself, rolled up in his sheep-skin kaross.

They had all gone to sleep without being disturbed by the hyenas. This was easily accounted for. The three horses that had been shot that day occupied the attention of these gentry, for their hideous voices could be heard off in the direction where the carca.s.ses lay. Having enough to give them a supper, they found no occasion to risk themselves in the neighbourhood of the camp, where they had experienced such a hostile reception on the previous night. So reasoned Von Bloom, as he turned over and fell asleep.

He did not reason correctly, however. It was true that the hyenas were just then making a meal upon the horses; but it was a mistake to suppose that that would satisfy these ravenous brutes, who never seem to have enough. Long before morning, had Von Bloom been awake he would have heard the maniac laugh closer to the camp, and might have seen the green eyes of the hyena glancing under the expiring blaze of Swartboy's camp-fire.

Indeed, he had heard the beasts once that he awoke; but, knowing that the biltongue had been this night placed out of their reach, and thinking that there was nothing to which they could do any harm, he gave no heed to their noisy demonstrations, and went to sleep again.

He was awakened, however, by a shrill squeak, as of some animal in the agonies of death; and then there was a second squeak, that seemed to be suddenly interrupted by the stifling of the creature's utterance!

In these cries Von Bloom, as well as the others--who were now also awake--recognised the bleat of the ourebi, for they had heard it several times during the afternoon.

"The hyenas are killing it!" thought they. But they had not time to say so, before another and far different cry reached their ears, and caused them all to start as if a bomb-sh.e.l.l had burst under the wagon. That cry was the voice of Jan, and sounded in the same direction whence came the scream of the stifled antelope!

"O heaven! what could it mean?"

The child's voice first reached them in a sudden screech--then there was a confused noise resembling a scuffle--and Jan was again heard crying aloud for help, while at the same time his voice was interrupted, and each call appeared to come from a greater distance! _Something or somebody was carrying him off_!

This idea occurred to Von Bloom, Hans, and Hendrik, at the same instant.

Of course it filled them with consternation; and, as they were scarce yet awake, they knew not what to do.

The cries of Jan, however, soon brought them to their senses; and to run towards the direction whence these came was the first thought of all.

To grope for their guns would waste time, and all three leaped out of the wagon without them.