The General had undertaken to guide them to what he called the great game country, and he had kept his word. For below them—to right, to left, and away towards the golden burst of glory where the sun was about to rise—the land was literally alive with game.
Down to their right spread broad marshy lagoon after lagoon, in which swam, dived or waded, countless ducks and crane. Here, writhing its snaky neck and curious head and beak, was the flamingo, all white and rose; there, soft grey cranes and others, with a lovely crest, as if in imitation of the rays of the rising sun.
But it was not the wondrous variety of birds alone that took their attention, but the large game, feeding, gambolling, and careering in countless herds. To the left were zebras, and beyond some quaggas, or wild asses, the peculiar bray or cry of quay-gah! quay-gah! reaching to their ears. On their right there were gnus, or wildebeestes, as the Boers called them, brindled and the blue—curiously fierce-looking little animals, partaking both of the character of the deer and the buffalo. Some grazed placidly in the morning light, others were engaged in tilting at each other with their horns, while their companions looked on as if waiting for their turn; and every now and then the sound of the striking horns ascended to the woody ridge with a loud crash.
But while these creatures contended together, groups of antelopes were dotted here and there, while others careered at lightning speed over the plain.
The sight was wonderful, and the boys felt as if they would never tire of watching the evolutions of the graceful creatures, which, with their skins glistening and horns looking golden in the morning light, seemed to be going through a series of military evolutions with the greatest precision.
“Koodoo, pronghorn,” said Mr Rogers, looking at the herd through his glass. “There are a dozen elands too,” he continued, and then passed the glass to his sons.
“Oh, this is grand,” cried Dick enthusiastically. “I could stay here for ever watching the graceful creatures.”
“So could I,” said Jack, after breakfast. “I say, father, hadn’t we better shoot something—the stock’s getting low?”
“Yes,” said Mr Rogers quietly; and he longed to go himself and bring down a good fat buck for the replenishment of the larder; but the expedition was for his sons, and he gave place to them. “Now, Dick,” he continued, “here is a chance for you to try and stalk one of those hartebeestes; or better still, a nice fat antelope. Pick out one with a fine head of horns, and then aim straight at the shoulder, and be sure and bring him down.”
“At what distance would you fire, father?” asked Dick.