CHAPTER XXIII. THE SENTINEL KOODOO.
When Oscar reached the fountain he was surprised to find no traces of the terrible conflict that had taken place there the night before. He knew it was no uncommon thing for a fight like that to terminate only with the death of one of the combatants, and he could not understand how two animals, as strong and active as lions were, could struggle so long and desperately without leaving at least a few drops of blood behind them to testify to the severity of the contest in which they had been engaged. But Oscar could discover none, and in fact he could see nothing to indicate that there had been any game about the fountain during the night, for the hoofs of the horses and oxen had obliterated all the tracks.
The hounds, however, knew that some of the fleet-footed antelopes they had so often followed had been there, for their noses told them so, and, well trained as they were, it was all the stout Kaffir could do to control them.
Having looked about the fountain to his satisfaction, Oscar told the Kaffir to go ahead, and the latter, still holding the hounds in the leash, at once set off in the direction in which the wounded buffalo had disappeared.
There was no spoor to follow at this point that Oscar could see, for the plain was literally covered with hoof-prints, and it did not seem possible that the most expert trailer could distinguish the prints of the buffalo's feet from among so many. But the Kaffir, who seemed to know just what he was about, was never once at fault. He led the way at a rapid pace, passing around the outskirts of several little groves of mimosa trees and thickets of thorn bushes, at which Oscar looked suspiciously, telling himself the while what splendid hiding-places they would make for any angry buffalo or hungry beast of prey which might feel inclined to dispute their further advance, and after he had gone about three miles he suddenly stopped his horse and pointed silently before him.
Oscar looked and saw something lying on the ground a short distance away. He rode up to it, and found that it was the carcass of the buffalo. The head, crowned with the formidable-looking horns, but stripped bare of flesh, some of the larger bones, and a few tufts of hair were all that were left of the terrible beast that had come so near ending his career as a hunter.
The Kaffir dismounted to secure the heads of his spears, which had been broken from the shafts, while the hounds, detecting the recent presence of the fierce carnivora that had feasted there, raised the bristles on the back of their necks and showed their white teeth in the most savage manner.
"Well, Thompson, those little spears of yours did some damage, after all, didn't they?" said Oscar. "Our buffalo fell when he reached this spot, and the lions made a meal of him. I was in hopes they would leave the head alone. It wouldn't have looked bad over one of the doors of the museum if it were well set up. I don't suppose there is any such thing—— Hallo!"