The Kaffir sprang to his feet, and, as though trying to carry his head in his hands, reeled out of the room. He was followed by his master, who saw that all efforts at inducing the Makololo to resume their journey would be for several hours unavailable.
On moving around to the shed where the two giraffes had been tied, Willem was somewhat alarmed by an indescribable expression seen on the features of Congo.
The eyes seemed as if about to start from the Kaffir’s head!
The distance between his chin and nose had alarmingly extended, and his whole appearance formed a frightful picture of astonishment and fear.
To Willem there needed no explanation. One glance was enough.
The camelopards were gone!
The Bushman and Kaffir had promised to watch over them in turns, and had both neglected their duty by getting drunk.
Willem uttered not one word of reproach. Hope, fear, and chagrin kept him for a moment silent.
Within his mind was struggling a faint idea that the giraffes had been removed by some servants of the boer to a place not far-away,—perhaps to a more secure shed.
This hope was dashed with the fear that they had been stolen, or had helped themselves to freedom, and might never again be found.