CHAPTER XXIX. "THE CHARGE OF THE HEAVY BRIGADE."
If McCann thought he was going to frighten his employer he was destined to be disappointed. Oscar took a step forward, and there was a look in his eye that McCann had never seen there before.
"Don't try my patience too severely," said he. "If you do you will be a different-looking man when I get through with you. There's no surgeon in this country, and I don't know whether the Boers could patch you up or not."
The threat implied in these words took all desire for a fight out of McCann. He sank back on the dissel-boom, rested his elbows on his knees, and fastened his eyes on the ground.
"Now," continued Oscar, throwing all the emphasis he could into his words, "I tell you once for all, and I want you to bear in mind that I mean just what I say, neither more nor less, that I have put up with your cowardice and treachery long enough, and just as surely as I detect you in the attempt to throw so much as a straw in my path, just so surely will I turn you adrift on the plain, to find your way back to Zurnst as best you can. If you had one of your own countrymen to deal with he would wear a rawhide out over your back, and he would serve you right, too."
So saying, Oscar climbed into the wagon, and proceeded to secure everything in it that could be put under lock and key. But first he took out of one of his chests a large envelope, like the one McCann had destroyed, and drew from it a map which was an exact counterpart of the one Mr. Lawrence had given him.
"That was rather a bright idea of mine," said he after he had made sure that the contents of the chest had not been tampered with. "It is well, in this country, to have duplicates of everything. McCann didn't do me as much injury as he thought he did, but it was a contemptible trick, all the same."
"What is the meaning of that move, I wonder?" thought McCann, who was making his employer's tea at his own fire. "Two weeks ago I should have been sorry to see him do that, but now I don't care. The Boers will take me, for they told me so."
Having put all his books and papers where he thought they would be safe from McCann's prying eyes, Oscar got out of the wagon, walked up to his own fire, and took possession of his camp-chair.
"Now, McCann," said he, "I want a plain understanding with you, and after I have had it I shall never again refer to this matter. Not being blind, I have seen for a long time that you are not contented here, and if you want to leave me and go with those Boers I am quite willing that you should do so. All I ask is that you will leave openly and aboveboard, like a man."
"Oh, I don't want to go!" answered McCann with more haste and emphasis than the occasion seemed to require. "I don't deny that I should like to see Leichtberg again; but those transport-riders are not going that way. They are bound for the desert, and if I should go with them I should not see home again for eighteen months at least. You'll be going back yourself in less time than that."
"I certainly hope so. Then you think you had better stay with me, do you?"
"Of course I do. That was the bargain I made."
"We'll not say anything about that," replied Oscar with some impatience. "You bargained to act as my after-rider, too, and you have never done it. If you want to stay, all right. You can keep yourself employed about the camp, since you are afraid to go out of it; but mind you, now, no more treachery. Is my tea ready?"
Oscar worked late over the leopard that night, and when his task was finished lay down in his cot and went to sleep, lulled by the roaring of the lions and the laughing of the hyenas.
He smiled whenever he thought how terrified he was when he first heard those sounds. Now he paid no more attention to the lions than he did to the prairie wolves that howled about his camp when he was journeying to and from the foot-hills.
When he awoke the next morning the Dutchmen were in motion. They did not like such a neighbor as Oscar had shown himself to be, and were going off to hunt up another fountain, at which they could rest their cattle and fill their water-butts in peace.
"Good riddance," thought Oscar while he performed his ablutions in the bucket which he always found waiting for him, filled with fresh water. "I know now that I did just right last night. If they had found that I was afraid of them they would have taken full control of that pool, and I could have taken my choice between seeing my cattle perish of thirst and inspanning and hunting up another water-hole. Now what shall I do to-day?"
This question and the discussion of the breakfast that McCann had served up for him occupied Oscar's attention during the next twenty minutes, and the coffee was finished and a decision reached at about the same moment.
To begin with, there was no earthly use in hunting in the direction in which the Boers had gone, for they would scare all the game along their route.
He would spend the day on the other side of the water-course and try to shoot another of that herd of koodoos (he had already forgotten the firm resolution he had made that he would never again try stalking under an African sun), for he wanted to secure two of each variety of the fauna whenever he could get them.
So he gave the necessary orders, and in a quarter of an hour more he and Thompson were ready for the hunt. This time they each carried a canteen filled with water, and all the dogs went with them.
This was another fatiguing day for Oscar, but, on the whole, it was an exciting and glorious one. He succeeded in shooting another fine specimen of the antelope tribe, and was the involuntary spectator of a scene he would not have missed for a good deal, but which he would not willingly have witnessed again at so close quarters under any consideration.
Such a sight as Oscar saw that day is never seen anywhere out of Africa. There was "game, game, nothing but game," all around him, but it was very wild, and would not permit him to come within range.
As fast as he advanced immense herds of wilde-beests, elands, quaggas, and zebras would scamper away to the right and left, and wheeling about like bodies of trained cavalry that were about to harass an enemy's flank, they would halt and begin feeding on the very ground the hunters had just passed over.
Having looked in vain for the koodoos among the hills and rocks, Oscar and his after-rider dismounted, under the friendly branches of a mimosa tree, to rest and eat their lunch.
"It would never do for us to go back to the wagon empty-handed, would it, Thompson?" said Oscar as he sipped the warm water from his canteen and looked with longing eyes toward the large bodies of antelopes that seemed to be gathering in the lower end of a little valley about a mile away. "And since the game will not let me go within gunshot of it, don't you suppose you could make it come to me? Couldn't you go around to leeward of it and make the dogs drive it this way?"
The Kaffir said he could.
"Of course I shouldn't stay near this tree, for there is no place to hide. I think that rock out there"—here Oscar pointed to a little boulder that lay on the plain about a quarter of a mile away—"would be a good place of concealment, don't you? Very well. Take the dogs out and see what you can do for me."
Oscar added such suggestions and instructions as he thought necessary, and when the Kaffir had finished his lunch he mounted his horse, called to the dogs, and rode away, leaving the boy to his meditations.
When he had been gone an hour Oscar picked up his rifle, and began the laborious task of creeping a quarter of a mile on his hands and knees to reach the boulder of which he had spoken.
He had timed the Kaffir's movements with tolerable accuracy, and he had not been in his place of concealment more than ten minutes before a cloud of dust arose in the distance, telling him that the game was in motion.
The cloud extended a long distance on each side of the boulder, and from it there issued a rumbling noise that sounded like the roar of an approaching express train. Then it occurred to Oscar, for the first time, that he had been just a little foolhardy. He looked anxiously to the right and left of him, but there was no place of refuge nearer than the tree under which he and Thompson had eaten their lunch. There was no time to run back to it, for that "heavy brigade" was charging down upon him with the speed of the wind.
"Good gracious!" soliloquized Oscar. "What if they should run over me and trample me to death?"
His heart beat rapidly at the thought, and it required the exercise of all the nerve he possessed to enable him to stand his ground.
CHAPTER XXX. OSCAR'S ASSISTANT HUNTERS.
Fortunately for Oscar Preston he was not dealing with the stupid bison of our Western plains, which will dash madly over a precipice when stampeded, and when suffering for want of water walk deliberately into a quicksand that is already choked with the bodies of their dying comrades.
The animals that were then approaching, always alert and wary, scented danger while it was yet in the distance, and, dividing right and left, gave Oscar's boulder a wide berth.
But one herd—composed of antelopes, that are held by some hunters to be the equal of the koodoo in cunning, and greatly its superior in speed—was caught napping this time, and when Oscar's rifle cracked one of them fell.
While the young hunter was watching for a chance to put in his second barrel he was startled by a clatter of hoofs behind, so loud that it drowned all the rest, and, looking over his shoulder without changing his position, he was horrified to see a herd of buffaloes, numbering a hundred or more, dashing by within less than thirty yards of him.
They carried their tails high in the air, held their shaggy heads close to the ground, in readiness to toss the first thing that came in their way; their eyes were fairly green with fury, and, taken altogether, their appearance was enough to frighten anybody.
Oscar, knowing that his only chance for life lay in concealment, hugged the ground as closely as he could until the last of the herd had passed him, and then, jumping to his feet, gave the nearest of them a shot behind the shoulder.
He knew the bullet had taken effect. But the buffalo kept straight ahead, and presently he and his companions were out of sight.
When the cloud of dust and the animals that raised it had passed on, and the dogs had swept by, running at random, but all keeping up a terrific yelping, Oscar arose to his feet, and went to take a look at his new prize.
It was a valuable one—an oryx, sometimes called gemsbok—and, like the koodoo, was probably destined to stand alone in the Yarmouth Museum, the only representative of its species.
It was about three feet and a half high at the shoulders, and, like many other African antelopes, carried a bushy tail and an erect mane.
Its horns were long and straight, and the markings about its head made it look as though it had a bridle on.
This species is quite independent of water, grows fat on arid plains, where any other antelope would starve to death, and is so fleet and enduring, and so very alert and watchful besides, that it is almost impossible to shoot one of them. By the time he had completed his examination the Kaffir came up.
"Go and get my horse," said Oscar, "and then take this fellow up in front of you, and lead the way toward the wagon. We'll go home. A koodoo and an oryx in two days ought to satisfy anybody. I had a snap shot at a buffalo, but I didn't bring him down."
When Oscar came to retrace his steps he found that he had ridden much further away from the wagon than he supposed.
He did not see any landmarks that were familiar to him until he reached the hill on which he had shot the sentinel koodoo, and then it lacked only an hour of being dark.
As they were riding over this hill the Kaffir suddenly stopped, and without saying a word pointed before him with his finger.
Oscar turned his head, and saw some animal lying under a tree that stood in the edge of the nearest grove.
"What is it?" he asked in a cautious whisper. "It cannot be an elephant or a rhinoceros!"
"No," answered the after-rider. "Buffalo. Bad hurt. Look out!"
"Oh! that's my old friend, is it?" exclaimed the boy. "I'll see if I can't make a better shot this time."
The young hunter had not yet forgotten how badly he had been frightened by a charging buffalo on the evening he was hunting the secretary-bird, and consequently the Kaffir's warning was entirely unnecessary. He intended to look out, and he was resolved, also, to secure that buffalo's head if he could.
"I am going up nearer, to see if I can get a shot at him," said he in a low tone. "When he charges I will lead him by, within a few yards of you, and you must be ready to drop him. Be sure and do good work now, for I don't know how these horses of ours are going to act."
Oscar rode slowly toward the buffalo, and the longer he looked at him the larger he seemed to grow.
It was plain that he was badly wounded, and that made him all the more dangerous. Having approached within less than fifty yards of him without attracting his attention, Oscar stopped his horse and took a few minutes in which to decide upon a plan of operations.
"If I shoot at him from the saddle and my horse throws me I shall be in a fix," said he to himself. "If I dismount, and the buffalo charges me, and my horse will not let me mount him again, I shall be in another fix. Perhaps I had better make him get up."
The buffalo got upon his feet a few seconds later, but Oscar did not make him do it. It was the dogs.
They came in, one after the other, having given up the pursuit of the antelopes, and on discovering the buffalo rushed at him in a body.
The savage beast met them half-way, charging directly toward Oscar, who wheeled his horse and fled at the top of his speed.
As he flew by the hill on which the Kaffir was stationed the latter fired both barrels of his gun, each bullet telling loudly upon the buffalo; but he never stopped, nor did he seem to notice Oscar, who circled around out of his way, and drew up a little distance in the rear of the Kaffir. He kept straight on to the nearest grove, and in five minutes more both he and the dogs were out of sight in the bushes.
"Come on, Thompson!" shouted Oscar after he had listened for a few moments to the sounds of the chase. "He is going on through, and we will meet him on the other side."
Oscar rode fast, and to his great delight succeeded in reaching the opposite side of the grove just as the buffalo broke through the bushes into the open ground.
The hunter's blood was up now, and without waiting to inquire whether or not he ran any risks by such a proceeding he pulled up his horse, and discharged both barrels of his rifle as rapidly as he could draw the trigger.
When he took the weapon down from his shoulder he found that he was still firmly seated in his saddle, and that his horse was standing motionless in his tracks.
"Come now, old fellow, that was pretty well done," said Oscar approvingly. "Little Gray himself couldn't be steadier. If this is the way you are going to behave that buffalo is mine."
A piercing shriek from the Kaffir, who had followed close at his heels, interrupted Oscar's soliloquy.
The native was leaning forward in his saddle, his eyes were fixed with a frightened stare, and his finger was pointing steadily at some object on the other side of Oscar.
The boy looked, and saw a sight that made the cold chills creep all over him. Two new hunters, whose aid was neither required nor desired, had suddenly appeared upon the scene.
They were a full-grown lion and lioness. They had doubtless been sleeping away the day in a little clump of thorn bushes that grew in the open plain, about a hundred yards from the grove, and having been aroused from their nap by the yelping of the dogs, they had come out of their retreat to take part in the hunt.
"Tao! tao!" shouted the Kaffir, who wheeled his horse and was off at breakneck speed.
Scarcely realizing what he was doing, Oscar sat motionless in his saddle and watched the chase. The dogs lost no time in withdrawing from the race, and the buffalo and the lions were left to settle the matter among themselves.
The huge beast kept resolutely on, but the long bounds of his savage pursuers rapidly diminished the distance between them, and at last the lioness, outstripping her heavier companion, sprang into the air and fastened her claws in his flanks.
During the short but desperate battle that followed Oscar gained a pretty good idea of a buffalo's strength, activity, and courage. The lioness did not pull him down, as the boy expected she would, for she could not.
The buffalo shook her off with the greatest ease, charged her with the utmost fury, and if her mate had not been close at hand to lend his assistance it is hard to tell how the fight would have ended.
His superior weight and muscle brought the matter to a speedy termination. Fighting gallantly to the last, the buffalo went down, and in a few minutes his struggles were over.
Now, beyond a doubt, it would have been a magnificent act of daring if Oscar Preston had ridden up to those lions and settled both of them by sending a bullet through their heads; and if he had done so we should be glad to record the fact. But he did nothing of the kind. He sat on his horse like one stupefied until the chase and the battle were ended, and then withdrew, quite content to leave the noble beasts to the full enjoyment of their supper.
CHAPTER XXXI. GOOD-BY, McCANN.
Surrounded by the dogs, which had gathered about him for protection, Oscar rode slowly away, looking back now and then to make sure that the lions were not following him, and as soon as the trees of the grove hid them from his view he put his horse to his best pace and galloped up beside the Kaffir, who was awaiting his appearance with no little impatience and anxiety.
"Whew!" panted Oscar, pulling off his hat and wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. "We don't want that buffalo's head, do we, Thompson? I don't think it would pay to bother with it. That was my first, and I sincerely hope it will be my last, sight of a wild lion. I am glad you didn't drop the oryx in your hurried stampede, for if you had I don't believe I should have gone back after him. Now let's reach the wagon without loss of time."
Never before had Oscar felt as timid as he did that night.
He gave every clump of bushes and every stone that was large enough to conceal a lurking beast of prey a wide berth, and did not draw an easy breath until he saw the glare of the camp-fires shining through the trees in front of him. By that time it was pitch-dark.
The only persons he saw as he rode up the bank, after watering his horse at the fountain, were the driver and fore-loper, who ran up to the Kaffir, chattering in chorus, swinging their arms around their heads, and pointing toward the opposite side of the water-course.
They were full of news, and Oscar, who thought that something alarming must have happened during his absence, waited impatiently to learn what it was. He could gain no idea of it from the language of the Hottentots, for that was perfectly unintelligible to him, nor from the countenance of the Kaffir, who did nothing but grin while he listened.
"Well," said he when the hubbub had subsided so that he could make himself heard, "what is it?"
"Mack—he gone," said Thompson sententiously.
"Gone?" repeated Oscar, a suspicion of the truth breaking upon him at once.
The Kaffir grinned again, and the Hottentots nodded their heads and began backing off, as if they expected a great ebullition of fury on Oscar's part.
"Gone?" said the boy again. "Did he go on foot?"
"No; took he hoss and gun," replied Thompson.
"Which way did he go?"
The three natives pointed silently in the direction of Zurnst.
"Thompson," said Oscar, "put that antelope down in front of the wagon. Did either of you fellows get supper for me?"
Yes, there was a supper waiting for him, and it was a good one, too—the best he had eaten since leaving Zurnst. Oscar smiled when he sat down to it.
He knew that it was the result of the combined efforts of his driver and fore-loper, who had taken this way of showing their employer that they sympathized with him in the loss of his cook, and that they had not aided or abetted McCann in any way.
For several minutes they stood at a respectful distance, watching him, and waiting for him to get angry; but seeing that he sipped his coffee very contentedly, and showed no signs of flying into a passion over something he could not help, they finally withdrew to their own fire.
When Oscar had finished his supper he settled back in his camp-chair, folded his arms, and looked down at the ground in a brown study.
"So McCann has stolen a horse and gun, and cleared out, has he?" said he to himself after he had spent a few minutes in reviewing the situation. "Well, he has rendered himself liable to the law, which will snatch him bald-headed the moment he gets back to the settlements; but I can't stay here long enough to see justice done him, and so all the punishment he receives will be from me. He will not meet his friends again under a year and a half, and I hope to see mine before that time expires. He never went toward Zurnst, because he's too big a coward to travel so far by himself. He probably went in that direction, but he did it just to throw me off his trail. As soon as he was out of sight of the camp he made a circle around, and went off in pursuit of those Boers. I shall find him in their company to-morrow night. And when I do find him," added Oscar, while his eyes flashed, and his hands clenched involuntarily, "he must give up my property or fight. When I get my gun and horse back he can go where he pleases."
A visit to the rear of the wagon, where the horses were eating their evening's rations of mealies, revealed the fact that Little Gray was missing; and an inspection of his "battery" resulted in the discovery that his heavy single-barrelled rifle—his "elephant gun," as Captain Sterling called it—was gone.
The young hunter made no comments, but when he brought out his tools and went to work on the oryx there was an expression on his face that McCann would not have liked to have seen there.
Before he went to sleep that night Oscar made all his arrangements for a vigorous pursuit of his thieving cook, and daylight found him and Thompson in the saddle. By the time the dew was off the grass so that the horses could graze they had travelled fifteen miles.
They were just that far from water, too, and Oscar, knowing that his animals could not quench their thirst until he reached the Boer encampment, made but a short halt for rest and refreshment.
When he mounted again he pressed forward with all haste, and just as the sun was setting came within sight of the party of whom he was in search.
Their wagons were drawn up on the open, about two hundred yards from a little grove, and Oscar knew that in or near that grove he would find a fountain.
In America hunters and travellers make it a point to camp close beside a water-course, provided that grass and wood are handy, but in Africa a different plan is pursued. The wild beasts which come to the pools every night to drink require plenty of elbow room, and the traveller takes care to see that they have it.
He stops his wagon at a distance, drives his stock to and from the fountain, and the water he needs for his tea and coffee is brought to his camp in buckets.
He is also suspicious of groves and thickets, because they afford lurking-places for lions and leopards; and he always camps on the open plain and builds his fire behind a barricade of thorn bushes.
Thirsty as he was, Oscar did not turn toward the fountain, but drew a bee-line for the wagons. He had a disagreeable and perhaps a dangerous task before him, and he wanted to get through with it as soon as he could.
Oscar had not ridden far before he became aware that his approach was discovered, and that there was a commotion among the Boers and their attendants.
He brought his field-glass to bear upon them, and saw that they were arming themselves and forming in line, so as to cover the wagons.
"I see him, Thompson," said Oscar at length. "He is hiding behind that second wagon from the left, and he has got my horse and gun with him. We'll soon have him out of that. I don't know whether we will or not," he added to himself. "If I had white men to deal with I should have no fears of the result; but these wooden-headed Dutchmen have no more sense than the cattle they drive, and it is hard to tell how they will act."
Nothing daunted by the preparations that had been made to receive him, Oscar rode straight on toward the Boers, and when the patriarch made a sign for him to halt he paid no sort of attention to it. The least show of timidity or irresolution would have been fatal to him. He had come there with plans of his own fully developed, and he intended to let the Dutchmen see that he had the pluck to carry them out.
He kept on until he had come within ten feet of the Boers, who held their cocked muskets in their hands, all ready to shoot, and then he drew up his horse.
"Thompson," said he, "tell these men that they are harboring a thief—that my cook has stolen a horse, saddle, bridle, and rifle from me, and that I have come here to get them. Tell them that I don't care for the thief himself—he isn't worth his grub, and they can have him if they want him—but I want my property, and, what's more, I'm bound to have it."
"Let's see you get it!" shouted McCann from his hiding-place behind the wagon.
Oscar's face grew a shade paler as these words of defiance fell upon his ears, but he made no reply. He had come there to act, and not to argue with McCann.
The Kaffir, however, was full of talk, and, not receiving a satisfactory reply to his translation, he proceeded to abuse the Dutchmen without stint.
The latter replied in angry tones, shaking their fists and flourishing their muskets in the air; and for a moment or two things looked as though there was going to be a fight.
"What do they say, Thompson?" asked Oscar.
"The Boer man say he don't know nothing about the hoss and gun," was the interpreter's reply.
"They don't, eh?" exclaimed Oscar. "That's all I want to know. If they won't help me get my property back I'll take it without help."
As Oscar said this he put his horse in motion, intending to ride to McCann's place of concealment, and compel him to surrender his ill-gotten gains. As he was about to pass through the line a Boer attempted to seize his horse by the bridle, but that was an unfortunate move for him.
Drawing sharply in upon the curb-bit, Oscar struck his horse a smart blow with the whip that was tied to his wrist; whereupon the animal shot forward like an arrow from a bow, and striking the Boer full in the breast, sent him flying through the air as if he had been thrown from a catapult.
Without waiting to see what had become of him, or to learn what he was going to do about it when he recovered his feet, Oscar rode around the nearest wagon, and found himself face to face with his runaway cook.
There was his missing horse, saddled and bridled, and at his head stood McCann, with the stolen rifle in his hand and his left arm passed through Little Gray's bridle-rein. The man's face was as white as a sheet, and he was trembling all over; but still he was trying to keep up some show of courage.
"Come no nearer," said he in a tone which he intended should strike terror to the boy's heart. "If you don't go away, and let me alone, I'll shoot you, so help me!"
Oscar made no reply. Swinging himself from his saddle with great coolness and deliberation, he approached the trembling culprit with a steady step, holding his cocked rifle in such a position that the muzzle of it pointed straight at McCann's breast.
"Keep that shooting-iron directed toward the clouds," said he sternly; and, almost involuntarily, McCann obeyed. "Now let go of it," he added when he had come near enough to place his hand upon the weapon.
The man dropped the elephant gun as if it had been a coal of fire. Oscar let down the hammer, took hold of Little Gray's bridle, from which McCann withdrew his arm without being told, and quietly led him away.
Very soon afterward he and the Kaffir were riding toward the fountain, while the Boers stood watching them in silence.
They camped on the plain that night, and the next morning set out for the wagon, which they reached in safety.
CHAPTER XXXII. OFF FOR THE COAST.
If time would permit we might tell of many more interesting and exciting adventures, of which Oscar was the hero, during his career in Africa, but those we have already described must suffice.
They will serve to give the readers some idea of the poetry of the life he led for thirteen long months. Of the prose—of the trials, disappointments, and discouragements—we have had little to say, preferring to deal as much as we could with the bright side of his experience.
He remained in his camp nearly a month, during which time he secured heads of nearly all the larger animals that were to be found in the country round about, as well as many specimens of the smaller ones, and then once more set out on his travels.
At the same time the trouble began. Some of the fountains in which he had expected to find water in abundance were dried up, and not infrequently he and his men were obliged to dig for hours before they could procure water enough to moisten the tongues of the thirsty cattle.
The sun burned him by day, the frosts chilled him at night, and when the rains came on the dry water-courses were transformed into roaring torrents, which he forded at the imminent risk of capsizing his wagon and losing all the fruits of his toil.
He had always been unfortunate in regard to his dogs. He hardly ever got into a fight without losing one or more of them, and his bad luck continued until there were but three of his pack left—Ralph, and two cowardly mongrels that were not worth the meat they ate.
In process of time his stock began to suffer also. One of his horses, that was warranted "salted," died of the distemper; the hyenas carried off all his goats, and finally a lion pulled down Little Gray, about a hundred yards from the wagon, and killed him in broad daylight.
This was too much for Oscar, who, reckless of the consequences, caught up one of his Express rifles and sent two bullets into the lion, whereupon the beast charged through the camp with the utmost fury, killing one of the oxen, frightening the rest so badly that they took to their heels and were not seen again for two days, and wounding Ralph so severely that his life was despaired of.
Up to this time Oscar had enjoyed the best of health; but now the fever attacked him and laid him in his cot.
He was so ill that he began to be alarmed, and to make matters worse Thompson one night approached the wagon and stated he and the others had thrown off their allegiance, and that henceforth the young hunter must look out for himself.
This incident, if it did not save Oscar's life, at least hastened his recovery, for the prompt measures he took to suppress the mutiny threw him into a perspiration, which broke up the fever so completely that he never even heard of it again.
Ten minutes before he would not have thought it possible for him to stand upon his feet; but now he jumped out of his cot with all his old-time activity, and, catching up one of his rifles, ordered his men to inspan and treck at once, and they made all haste to obey.
One would think that, in the face of such discouragements as these, Oscar would have lost all heart.
Well, he often was dispirited, and always lonely and homesick; but he stuck to his purpose with dogged determination, working faithfully every day and longing for the hour of his release.
It came at last, though long delayed, and it was with a feeling a little short of ecstatic that Oscar, one bright morning, ordered his men to inspan and strike out for Zurnst.
The minute instructions he had received from the committee, by which his movements had been governed during the whole of his stay in Africa, had been carried out to the very letter.
Every species of animal on the list which President Potter had given him was represented in his collection, either by a head or a whole specimen, and his time was up to a day.
"What more can they ask?" thought Oscar as, with a delicious feeling of relief, he took possession of his cot and watched his travel-worn cattle as they stepped briskly out over the blind trail—the trail his own wagon had made months before. "I've got everything they told me to get, and many things besides that they never thought of. I tell you, I have been through the mill since I passed along this route, headed the other way, but I have come out all right, and now, thank goodness, I am off for the coast and home! Treck along there, Thompson; the faster we travel the sooner we shall reach Maritzburg, you know."
Oscar stopped at his old camp long enough to off-load and give his wagon a good over-hauling, and then set out for Zurnst.
The acquaintances he had there made when he first came through had not forgotten him, but as they had received no word from him since he went away they had given him up for lost, and looked upon him as one risen from the dead. They listened in genuine astonishment to the stories of his adventures, and told him that he had done something that any old hunter might well be proud of. They denounced McCann's cowardice and treachery in the strongest terms, and promised to see to it that he did not impose upon any other traveller as he had imposed upon Oscar.
When he had reached Leichtberg Oscar mailed almost half a peck of letters which he had written at various times, and when he reached Mr. Lawrence's his heart was gladdened by the sight of almost as many more, addressed to himself, which had been forwarded to that gentleman's care by Mr. Donahue.
Oscar read these letters with no little anxiety. It was so long since he had heard from home, and so many things might have happened during that interval of silence!
But there was only one of them that contained any bad news, and that was from Sam Hynes, who, in a glowing obituary, which took up nearly a whole sheet of notepaper, conveyed to Oscar the news of Bugle's untimely death.
When Oscar read that he looked down at Ralph, the only remaining canine companion of his travels, the two worthless curs of which we have spoken having deserted him at Leichtberg. That sagacious animal was by no means a beauty. The long journey he had made across the burning sands, and the rough treatment he had received from his foes, had completely spoiled his good looks. But there was plenty of fight left in him, and Oscar decided on the instant that he should go home with him to fill Bugle's place.
The young hunter continued his journey with a light heart after reading those cheering letters from home. Even the dreaded Drackenberg, which now and then loomed up before his mental vision, had no terrors for him.
He had his wagon thoroughly repaired at Harrismith, in readiness for the ascent, crossed the pass in safety, and in due time drew up before the hotel in Maritzburg.
Mr. Dibbits was there to meet him, and so were Harris and his gang of swindlers, all of whom started as if they had seen a ghost.
"Why, Mr. Preston!" exclaimed the landlord as soon as he could speak.
"Yes, Mr. Dibbits, it is I; or, rather, all there is left of me," replied Oscar. "By the way, what became of our friend Colonel Dunhaven?"
"Colonel Dunhaven!" repeated the landlord, looking bewildered. "Oh, that was the gentleman who started for the interior the same time you did. Humph! he was a nice fellow to think of going into the wilderness, he was. His wagon got stalled up here in an ant-bear's hole, and he got discouraged, sold out, bag and baggage, and bundled himself off to old England."
Our hero thought of all he had passed through during the last two years, and told himself that that was the best thing the colonel could have done. A man who would allow himself to become discouraged as easily as that had no business in Africa.
Oscar passed but one night in Maritzburg, and what with dining and visiting with his friends, and fighting off Harris and his gang, who persisted in making him very inadequate offers for his outfit, and chaffing the landlord, who showed an overweening desire to learn how he had succeeded during his hunt, he had a lively time of it.
The next day he bagged a couple of white-necked ravens, and they were the last specimens he shot in Africa.
With the assistance of his good friend Mr. Morgan, Oscar succeeded in disposing of his outfit at very fair figures. He sold everything except Ralph and the double-barrelled rifle with which he had secured the most of his trophies.
Then he bade his friends good-by, and took passage on board the little coasting vessel for Cape Town, at which place he transferred himself and his belongings to a steamer bound for London.
From there he went to Liverpool, and after he had seen his boxes and bales stowed away in the hold of the vessel that was to take him and them to Boston he still had time to run up to "the lodge," to say good-by to his friend and mentor Captain Sterling.
The latter sat up all night listening to his stories, and would have been glad to keep him for a month; but Oscar had paid his passage, and so he was obliged to make the interview a short one.
The run across the Atlantic was accomplished without incident worthy of note, and in due time Oscar found himself and all his specimens in Yarmouth. He remained there long enough to give Mr. Adrian and the committee a hurried account of his experience, and then set out for Eaton, where a warm welcome awaited him.
He is there now, surrounded by all his old-time friends, enjoying a well-earned rest, and only waiting for the summer vacation to begin his wanderings again.
A scientific expedition, which is to be composed of some of the professors and students attached to Yarmouth University, is being organized to start for the Yellowstone country, and Oscar is to have charge of it.
He has already secured Big Thompson—the genuine Big Thompson—to act as guide, and that is a guaranty that the members of the expedition will see plenty of sport, even if they do not accomplish anything in a scientific way.
We doubt, however, if Oscar Preston will ever again take part in scenes so stirring and exciting as those of which he was the hero while he was hunting in Africa.
THE END.