Poeskop struck for where he believed he would hit off the spoor of the wagon as it trekked forward on its route. But he had not quite reckoned upon the distance they had traversed that morning in pursuit of the elands, and at four o'clock they halted to rest their nags and take reckoning. The whole country seemed to Guy absolutely alike--a vast flat, covered for the most part with bush and thin forest, with here and there a small grass plain to vary the monotony. Far above them, the huge vacancy of the hot, brassy sky loomed unutterably vast.
The Bushman looked about him with a puzzled expression. Even he, in this wilderness where every object seemed to be repeated interminably, and not a hill, or swelling of the ground, or any kind of landmark, arose to offer guidance to the traveller, seemed for a few minutes to be at fault.
"Hallo, Poeskop!" said Guy wearily. "Have you lost your way? I hope not. I've got a thirst on me that I would give a sovereign to quench."
"Nie, baas," said the Bushman cheerfully. "We have not lost our way yet. I shall soon show you the wagon spoor."
And, in truth, the little wizened fellow was not many seconds at fault. To Guy, as the little man looked this way and that, searched the sky, squinted at the westering sun, and opened his broad nostrils to the faint breeze that was now beginning to move over the parched veldt, it seemed almost as if Poeskop was smelling his way. At all events, his savage instinct quickly reasserted itself. Touching his pony by the heel, he went resolutely forward. For another hour and a half they marched on in silence. The veldt seemed very desolate and very sombre. A few small antelopes fled away from their approach; these were steinbuck and duyker, which exist apparently as readily without water as with it. The sun sank below the skyline, leaving the flaming heavens arrayed in a marvellous glow of radiant colouring; the light quickly faded.
"Poeskop," said Guy at last, "we shall have to camp out for the night. It's a bad job. I don't know what we shall do without water."
Scarcely had the words left his mouth when the Bushman pointed to the sand a few yards in front of them, and said quietly,--
"There's the wagon spoor, baas."
And so, indeed, it was. They rode on in the darkness for something more than three hours longer. Guy, who suffered much from thirst, and began to ache all over from the effects of fourteen hours in the saddle, the weight of his rifle, and the added labour of supporting the eland head in front of him, began to wonder if he could stick it out much longer. At last, towards nine o'clock, they saw, twinkling cheerily in the distance, the light of a fire. It was the camp fire. Their trouble was instantly at an end; Guy's aches and pains vanished; they cantered briskly forward, and in ten minutes were at the wagon.
"Hullo!" cried Mr. Blakeney cheerily, as they rode up; "so you've turned up at last. Who is there?"