For, from above, came a clamour of sound. Thornhill was riding along the upper side of the kloof, Manamandhla was beating down the centre, where the watercourse ran, and Mlamvu, the other native, was making daylight hideous with the wild whoops and yells that marked his progress. The dogs, questing to and fro, filled the air with their deep-mouthed ravings.
This racket faint at first, drew nearer and nearer, where the two girls stood, behind their cover of bush and stone. There came a sound of crashing through the bushes, making straight towards them. Edala held her gun in right business-like fashion—no mere toy-gun but an up-to-date Number 12 hammerless—ready to bring to her shoulder. The other was in a very whirl of excitement. Then the sound ceased.
“It has gone back,” she whispered. “Never mind. Father will get it.”
Even as she spoke the clamour of the dogs was renewed, and, with it, a distant shot, away up on the hillside behind. But at the same time another sound of disturbance, not so violent, but much nearer, and—this too was coming straight towards them.
Edala set her lips. Her gaze was concentrated on a point where the more open ground seemed to triangle into the thicker bush. Then, something leaped into the open, and crossed in leisurely bounds in front of them. It was a magnificent bushbuck ram—whose spiral horns, almost straight, looked of record length. Edala’s gun was at her shoulder and the report rang out. The full charge of Treble A ripped through the dark, chocolate coloured hide, and the beast fell, as though knocked over by a stone, kicking and rolling, and uttering a raucous, agonised bellow.
“Oh, well done! well done!” cried Evelyn, clapping her hands and springing forward.
“Keep back—keep back,” warned Edala, restraining her. “Didn’t I tell you they could be dangerous? And this one has a kick left in him yet.”
He certainly had, for although the charge had crippled him it had been planted rather far back, and now the buck rose on his forelegs, still bellowing savagely and shaking his needle pointed horns.
“I’ll give him another shot,” said Edala. “Wait now.”
But before she had quite got her aim on, the dogs rushed out of the bush and flung themselves open-mouthed on the wounded quarry. Snarling and leaping, they avoided the formidable horns, and, making their attack carefully from the rear, in a moment had pulled down the stricken animal, not, however, before one of them had received an ugly gash along the ribs.