Some time elapsed, during which the hunters had nothing else to interest them than listening to the snarls, laughter, and growling of the carrion-eaters assembled around the pool.
“I can’t say there’s much sport in this,” muttered Hendrik, discontentedly. “I’ve hard work in keeping awake.”
Another hour passed without their seeing any game worthy of their attention, when Willem, too, became weary of inaction.
They were thinking of vacating the pits and joining Congo by the camp-fire, when something heavier than hyenas was heard approaching the spot. With only their eyes above the surface of the ground, they gazed eagerly in the direction from which proceeded the sound. Two large animals appeared through the darkness, evidently approaching the vley.
“Quaggas!” whispered Willem, as he strained his eyes to assure himself of their species.
“Yes,” answered Hendrik. “Let us knock them over. They’re not much good, but it will serve to wake us up.”
Doubtful whether a shot at anything better might be had that night, Groot Willem was nothing loath, and was the first to fire. The animal at which he had aimed fell forward, and they heard a heavy plunging, as it rolled over into the pool.
Its companion was about turning to make off when Hendrik fired. There was no apparent interruption to its flight, and Hendrik was under the impression that his shot had missed. He was soon undeceived, however, by hearing the animal fall to the earth with a dull heavy sound, at the same time uttering a groan, which did not seem unfamiliar, and yet was not the cry of a quagga.
Without saying a word, both leaped out of the pits, and hastened towards the fallen animals, with a strong presentiment that there was something amiss.
The animal brought down by Hendrik was first reached.