This was a bitter disappointment. The giraffes had got away, no one knew how or where. They might return again; but no one could be certain of this. Those amongst the Makololo who professed to be best acquainted with their habit, expressed the belief that they had migrated to same extensive forests far-away towards the south, and that no more camelopards might be found in that neighbourhood for the six months to follow. They (the Makololo) were anxious to return to their homes. Perhaps this may have guided them in their opinion. They had huts to build, and land to cultivate for their families, and had neglected these duties in obedience to the command of their chief. The hunters could not reasonably detain them longer, and, though with reluctance, permitted them to take their departure.
Three days were passed in riding about the neighbourhood, and exploring it within a circle of twenty miles. Several small groves of cameel-doorn were found, but no camelopards could be seen. They had evidently forsaken that district or country, and might not return for many weeks or months. The Makololo appeared to have spoken the truth.
“I don’t say that we have been acting like fools,” said Arend; “but I will say that we deserve to be called nothing else, if we squander any more time in search of what fate has decreed that we are not to obtain.”
“Go on, Arend!” exclaimed Hendrik. “I could not talk more sensibly myself.”
“I have nothing more to say at present,” said Arend, with a significant shake of the head, as much as to say that the subject was too plain to require discussion.
“What should we do, Hans?” asked Groot Willem.
“Start for home,” was the ready answer. “I am now of Hendrik’s opinion,” continued the botanist. “We should not expect to be successful in every undertaking, and we have for some time been engaged on one in which we seem destined to fail.”
“Very well,” said Groot Willem. “Let us first go back to the country of Macora. It will be so far on our way to Graaf Reinet.”
Seeing that Swartboy was anxious to give his opinion on this important subject, Hendrik was kind enough to give him a chance by asking for it. The Bushman possessed to an extraordinary degree the not unusual accomplishment of saying a very little in a great many words. Fortunately, for the gratification of his vanity, the hunters were at supper, and had time to listen to his circumlocution.
The failure of the expedition so far was, in Swartboy’s opinion, wholly owing to Congo. He had known from the first that no success could attend them while guided by a Kaffir, or any race of blacks whose language a Kaffir could understand.