On riding forward to the spot, the hunters had an explanation of why the chase was so soon over. They were only surprised that the creature had been able to run at all.
It proved to be an ancient male of which but little was left but the skin and bones.
It looked as though it was the last of its race, about to become extinct.
On its back and other parts of its body were lumps as large as walnuts, the scars of old wounds, where musket-bullets had been lodged in its body several years before!
The rusty head of an arrow was also seen protruding from its side.
It had the appearance of having been hunted for a score of years, and hundreds of times to have been within an inch of losing its life.
Its enemy, man, had overtaken it at last, and was gazing upon its struggling not with exultation, but rather with pity and regret.
They felt no triumph in having run down and captured a thing that had been so long struggling with death. Groot Willem, who had been for a time highly elated with the prospect of recovering the lost giraffes, was again in great despondence. Much time had been squandered in this purposeless pursuit.
He was not one to yield easily to despair; and yet despair was now upon him. There was every symptom of a dark night coming down, and it was now near. Inspired either by pity or revenge, he sent a bullet from his roer into the head of the struggling skeleton; and, throwing himself into the saddle, he turned the head of his horse once more towards the house.
An attempt had been made to recover the lost giraffes. It had failed. Night was close at hand. Nothing more could be done for that day, and Willem now declared his willingness to return to Graaf Reinet and die.