Oscar drew his head further down behind the saddle as he cocked both barrels of his rifle and waited with a beating heart for a chance to shoot.
Just then the game, discovering an enemy in front, swerved from its course, presenting a full broadside, and giving the excited young hunter the first fair view of a wilde-beest (the gnu of the naturalist) he had ever had.
This movement sealed its fate. As quick as thought Oscar sprang around the head of his horse, which stood motionless in his tracks, raised his rifle to his shoulder, and holding far enough in advance of the gnu to make allowance for distance and motion, pressed the trigger.
The first shot was a clean miss, but the second bullet told loudly, and when the smoke cleared away Oscar had the satisfaction of seeing the gnu lying on the ground all in a heap.
"There's something for Yarmouth!" he shouted. "That was the best shot I ever made."
Oscar at once ran forward to secure his prize and to prevent the dogs when they came up from spoiling its skin. He was greatly delighted, as well he might be, for he had secured a splendid specimen.
He straightened it out and looked at it, lost in admiration. It was a little more than four feet in height at the shoulders, and its mane and tail looked so much like those of a horse that, had it not been for its horns and hoofs, it might have been taken for rather a long-legged Shetland pony.
"It is a beautiful specimen," said Oscar aloud as he walked slowly around the animal, so that he could view it from all sides.
"It certainly is, but I should like to know what business you have shooting my game?" said a voice near him.