“But can you be sure that he is following the spoor of Willem’s horse?”
“Yaas, Master Hendrik, very sure of it. Spoor’em is no fool. He knows well what we want.”
With blind confidence in the sagacity both of the Kaffir and his dog, the two hunters rode on at a gentle trot, taking more than an hour to travel the same distance that Willem had gone over in a few minutes.
There was a prospect that the trail they were following might conduct them back to the camp, and that there would be found the man they were in search of. Willem would be certain not to return over the same ground where he had pursued the giraffes, and they might be spending the night upon his tracks, while he was waiting for them at the camp.
This thought suggested a return.
Another consideration might have counselled them to it. A thunder-storm was threatening, and the difficulties of their search would be greatly increased.
But all inclinations to go back were subdued by the reflection that possibly Willem might be in danger, and in need of their assistance, and with this thought they determined to go on.
The dog was now urged forward at a greater speed. The storm was rapidly approaching; and they knew that, after the ground had been saturated by a fall of rain, the scent would be less easily taken up, and their tracking might be brought to an end.
The elements soon after opened upon them, but still they kept on in the midst of the pelting rain, consoling themselves for what was disagreeable, by the reflection that they were performing their duty to their lost friend.
It was not until the thunder-shower had passed over, that Spoor’em began to show some doubt as to the course he was pursuing. The heavy rain had not only destroyed the scent but the traces of the footmarks, and the dog was no longer able to make them out. For the last half hour, they had been moving through an atmosphere dark as Erebus itself. They had been unable to see each other, except when the universe seemed illumed by the flashes of lightning.