"Ja, those are elands, baas," answered Poeskop. "They are running; we must hartloup."
They put spurs to their willing nags and dashed after the game. Clearing the thicker part of the forest, they emerged into much more open country, where for the first time they obtained a fair view of the noble herd of game in front of them. It was a goodly sight indeed. Nearly a hundred great elands, the biggest of them enormous creatures, heavier and fatter than a heavy ox in the prime of condition, were trotting along briskly in front of them. The eland seldom runs at a gallop until very hard pressed; but the fine, slinging trot at which the great antelopes moved was fast enough to keep the hunters at a steady canter to hold them in view. Seven or eight enormous bulls ran with the herd--huge, ponderous fellows, with coats of pale fawn, heavy dewlaps, massive horns twisted at the base, and dark-brown patches of thick, brush-like hair growing in the middle of their foreheads. Some fine young bulls, many splendid cows, and numbers of younger animals, completed the company. As Guy and Tom cantered side by side, watching this entrancing spectacle with the keenest interest, Tom exclaimed,--
"What magnificent fellows! We must get a bull as well as the two cows the pater spoke of. I shall bear to the left; the troop seems to me to be splitting up. You take those on the right hand, Guy. Now we must gallop hard."
It was even as Tom had said. Entering more woodland half a mile farther on, the troop had definitely broken up into two big sections. Tom, galloping as hard as the mopani growth would allow him, was rapidly closing up with the hindmost of the left-hand section. In another mile they had once more entered on a stretch of nearly open grass veldt. Here Tom set his pony going in earnest. He was quickly up to the tail of a magnificent old bull, upon which he had fixed his attention. The great antelope was in far too high condition to stand a prolonged chase. So fat, so plethoric was he, that he was now practically at the end of his tether. From the slinging trot he had relapsed to a heavy gallop; his sleek, short-haired, buff coat was moist with sweat, showing the bluish skin beneath; clots of foam dripped from his mouth, and strung out over his mighty neck and shoulders.
Tom saw that the bull was his. His eyes rested upon those magnificent horns. Firing from the saddle, he gave the bull two bullets at very close range: the first penetrated the antelope's ribs, but did not stop him; the second broke his off fore-leg at the shoulder, and the great beast came down instantly in his tracks, as if struck by a pole-axe. Never again would the goodly antelope wander through the mopani forest, or graze peacefully over the grass plains. Tom jumped off instantly, gave the bull another shot, which put him out of his suffering, cast an admiring look at the splendid horns, and jumped on his pony again. Galloping along the spoor of a few of the retreating herd, which he was easily able to follow, in ten minutes he was within hail of the nearest of the troop. Now he singled out a fine cow, carrying a remarkably long and even pair of horns, and turning her from the rest galloped hard at her. In two miles the cow was beaten, and Tom, having raced past her, jumped off, and as she came by gave her a shot behind the shoulder which instantly stretched her dead. The eland is the softest and most easily slain of all African beasts of chase, and, unlike most of the antelope family, which are astonishingly tenacious of life, will often fall dead to a single well-planted bullet. Feeling mightily content, the lad examined his prize, handled the long, even horns, noted the fine basal twist, put his knife into the dead beast's loin and saw that she was very fat, and turned to knee-halter his pony.
To his astonishment Rufus, who had been plucking a few mouthfuls of grass, suddenly threw up his head and trotted off. Tom called to him in his most coaxing voice, but in vain; the pony, seeing that he was followed, broke from a trot to a smart canter, and presently, entering some thick woodland, became lost to sight. Tom blamed himself bitterly for his neglect in not having thrown the reins as usual over the pony's head, so as to hang down in front of its fore-legs. This is an invariable South African custom, which all ponies understand and obey. Tom had been so desperately intent on shooting and putting an end to the eland that he had for once omitted the act. He had ridden Rufus many times out bird-shooting, but had never hunted heavy game with him before. Why the pony should thus have bolted off, however, he could not imagine.
Tom was now in something of a quandary. Should he follow the pony, or turn to and skin the eland? He decided for the latter. He could then spoor up the pony, capture it, bring it back for the meat, and go on for the horns of the bull eland. He would never return to the wagon without those magnificent trophies, which he pictured to himself lying in the veldt a few miles away. It was now one o'clock; Tom had a very respectable thirst already upon him. Most foolishly, as he now remembered, he and Guy had ridden away from camp without their water-bottles--an act of folly of which, as Tom confessed to himself, he at all events ought never to have been guilty. Well, there was nothing for it; he must skin the eland, cut up some meat, and probably by that time the other two would have returned in search of him. He had heard their rifles going. No doubt they had killed a cow, and would be soon on their way again. If they and he should chance not to meet, he must go in search of his pony, and somehow find his way back to the wagon.
Thus turning matters over in his mind, Tom drew his hunting-knife from his belt, and, having first fired a couple of shots to try and attract his comrades, began to skin the eland.
Meanwhile, Guy and Poeskop had ridden away on the heels of the herd of eland which had run right-handed. After a stiffish three-mile gallop, Guy had ridden up to the finest cow he could pick out, and with two bullets from his Mannlicher brought her down. During the run up he was somewhat astounded at the agility shown by these great antelopes; the bulls, it is true, pushed steadily on at a fast trot, but some of the cows jumped timber and bush in a style that would have done credit to a red deer. And the cow he had shot had, in her anxiety to escape, bucked clean over the stern of an animal running by her side.
Poeskop and Guy, who were still together, now set to work to skin the dead antelope. This they accomplished. Then cutting off the head, Poeskop set aside that part of the trophy, which Guy meant to carry himself, intending to skin the skull itself at his leisure after their return to camp. Next the Bushman cut off a quantity of the best part of the flesh, especially from the rump, loins, and brisket, and packing these, with a couple of marrow bones, carefully on the pony he rode, they prepared to set off. It was now two o'clock. Like Tom, they had set off hastily from camp without either food or water, and were already both hungry and thirsty. Guy, in particular, would have given a good deal for a pull at some lime juice and water or cold tea. The Bushman led the way; Guy, carrying the eland head in front of him, balanced on the pommel of his saddle, followed.