But one herd—composed of antelopes, that are held by some hunters to be the equal of the koodoo in cunning, and greatly its superior in speed—was caught napping this time, and when Oscar's rifle cracked one of them fell.
While the young hunter was watching for a chance to put in his second barrel he was startled by a clatter of hoofs behind, so loud that it drowned all the rest, and, looking over his shoulder without changing his position, he was horrified to see a herd of buffaloes, numbering a hundred or more, dashing by within less than thirty yards of him.
They carried their tails high in the air, held their shaggy heads close to the ground, in readiness to toss the first thing that came in their way; their eyes were fairly green with fury, and, taken altogether, their appearance was enough to frighten anybody.
Oscar, knowing that his only chance for life lay in concealment, hugged the ground as closely as he could until the last of the herd had passed him, and then, jumping to his feet, gave the nearest of them a shot behind the shoulder.
He knew the bullet had taken effect. But the buffalo kept straight ahead, and presently he and his companions were out of sight.
When the cloud of dust and the animals that raised it had passed on, and the dogs had swept by, running at random, but all keeping up a terrific yelping, Oscar arose to his feet, and went to take a look at his new prize.
It was a valuable one—an oryx, sometimes called gemsbok—and, like the koodoo, was probably destined to stand alone in the Yarmouth Museum, the only representative of its species.
It was about three feet and a half high at the shoulders, and, like many other African antelopes, carried a bushy tail and an erect mane.
Its horns were long and straight, and the markings about its head made it look as though it had a bridle on.