“The colour is not a good criterion,” remarked Hans. “They might as well have been ‘grysbok,’ or ‘steinbok,’ or ‘rooye rheebok,’ for the matter of colour. I judge by the horns, however, that you are right in your guess. They are rooyebok, or, as the Bechuanas call them, ‘pallah,’ and, as naturalists style them, Antilope melampus.”
All looked at the horns as Hans spoke, and saw that these were full twenty inches in length, and somewhat like those of the springbok, but more irregularly lyrate. The two nearly met at their tips, whereas at their middle they were full twelve inches apart. This was a characteristic by which they could easily be remembered, and it had enabled Hans at once to pronounce upon the species.
Strange to say, there was but one pair of full-grown horns in the whole herd, for there was but one old buck, and the does of the pallah are hornless. A “herd” is hardly a proper term; for this species of antelope cannot be called gregarious. What our hunters saw before them was a family of rooyeboks, consisting of the old male, his wives, and several young bucks and does—in all, only eleven in number.
Our hunters knew, from what they had heard, that the rooyebok is both a shy and swift antelope—difficult either to be approached or run down. It would be necessary, therefore, to adopt some plan of proceeding, else they would not succeed in getting one of them; and they had fixed their minds most covetously on the large knotted horns of the buck. They halted the wagons to await the result of the chase; though the oxen were not to be outspanned, unless it should prove successful. If so, they would camp upon the ground for the night—so as to enable them to dress the meat, and preserve the “trophies.” With such resolves, they made ready to hunt the pallah.
Upon first coming in sight of the rooyebok, the hunters were upon the crest of a high ridge—one of the mountain-spurs, that divided the valley they had just traversed from that in which the red antelopes were feeding. From the eminence they occupied, they commanded a view of this valley to its farthest border, and could see its whole surface, except a small strip on the nearer side, which was hidden from them by the brow of the ridge on which they stood.
Around the sides of the valley there were trees and bushes; though these did not form a continued grove, but only grew in detached clumps and patches. All the central ground, where the pallahs were feeding, was open, and quite destitute of either bush or cover of any kind. Between the bordering groves there was long grass; and, by the aid of this, a skilled hunter might have crept from one grove to another, without attracting the attention of the antelopes.
It was decided, therefore, that Hendrik and Groot Willem should steal round to the other end of the valley, keeping under cover of the thickets and grass. Then the pallahs would be between two fires, as they must either go up or down the valley in trying to escape. On the right lay the steep mountain; on the left, the deep rapid river. They would not likely attempt to move off on either hand. So this design to intercept them was good enough.
The horses were now tied to trees and left on the back of the ridge, while the hunters moved forward upon the brow that overhung the valley.
They had not advanced far before that part of the valley hitherto unseen came under their eyes, and there, to their astonishment, another herd of animals appeared; not of antelopes—although, from their colour, they might have been mistaken for such. No—the short round heads, elongated bodies, thick massive limbs, and long tufted tails, told at a glance, that it was no herd of peaceful ruminants the hunters were gazing upon, but an assemblage of dreaded carnivora—a troop of lions!