Oscar in Africa

by Harry Castlemon

Oscar had straightened out the hyena he had shot and took a good look at him. He was the oddest-looking beast the boy ever saw, and he told himself that for once Nature had made a mistake, and joined together a part of two different animals. The shoulders were high and strong, the fore legs long and massive, and the hind legs were small and weak by comparison; but that they were fully capable of doing their share of work was shown by the manner in which they had assisted those heavy shoulders to bound into the air when Oscar's bullet was sped on its deadly errand.

Having examined his prizes, Oscar called his dog to heel, hurried back to the horse, and rode at full speed toward the place where he had left his after-rider. It is one thing to shoot game in Africa, and another thing to save it after it is shot, and Oscar knew that he must act promptly if he wished to secure the fruits of his day's toil.

"Ralph," said he, when he reined in his horse by the side of the one on which the Kaffir was mounted, "lie down there and watch that buck. Thompson, come with me."

Ralph would have been willing to obey this command if Rover had been there to keep him company; but he did not want to stay there by himself, and when Oscar and Big Thompson rode away he went after them.

Of course that would never do. There must be a guard of some kind left with the buck, or the vultures, which were now circling around the hill and settling on the trees in the nearest grove, would gather to the feast before the hunters were two hundred yards away, and by the time they returned there would be another fine specimen ruined. After thinking a moment Oscar dismounted, and making one end of a hitching strap fast around the hound's neck, tied the other to one of the buck's horns.

"There!" said he as he galloped away with his after-rider. "The koodoo is safe from the vultures; but whether or not the hound is entirely safe I don't know. There's no telling how many fierce animals there may be hidden away in that grove, watching our movements. Hurry up, Thompson! We've lots of work to do, and it will be dark before we reach the wagon."

Oscar's next care was to make sure of the trophies he had left in the grove, and that could only be done by carrying them through the thorn bushes and transporting them on the backs of the horses to the top of the hill on which the sentinel buck was lying. It was absolutely necessary that the game should all be gathered together in one place, so that the Kaffir could keep watch over it while his employer went back to camp, for if any portion of it were left alone for a quarter of an hour, Oscar might not be able to find it again when he wanted it. The thorn bushes in the grove were thick, the koodoo's head and the hyenas were heavy, the horses restive and very much opposed to carrying their burdens after they had been placed on their backs—in short, Oscar and his man were hindered in their operations in so many different ways that it was fully two hours before their spoils had been transferred from the grove to the top of the hill.

During all this time Ralph had kept up such a constant howling that it was a wonder he had not brought an enemy of some sort to him. He was glad to be released, and ran gayly in advance of his master, who galloped off toward the wagon, taking the after-rider's horse with him.

He had no difficulty in finding his way, for when he came out in the morning he had not neglected to face about in his saddle and look behind him occasionally, and in this way he had made himself acquainted with all the principal landmarks. Oscar did not stop to give his horses water at the fountain, although they were sadly in need of it (so was he, for the matter of that), but rode at once to the wagon, and found McCann and his Hottentots engaged in earnest conversation. He would have thought nothing of it had it not been for the manner in which they acted when they saw him coming. They separated immediately, walking off in different directions, and that was enough to arouse Oscar's suspicions.

"They are hatching up some mischief," said the young hunter to himself; "and that cowardly McCann is at the bottom of it, whatever it may be, I'll be bound. I wish I had never seen that fellow, for he isn't worth the salt he eats on his meat. Here, Mack!" he shouted. "Put the saddles on the other horses, and take these down to the fountain. Bring back a bucket of water when you come. Ferguson, go out and drive in Hautzman; and, Johnson, you lend a hand here—I want you for the rest of the day."