But only for a few minutes did dogs, hunters, and game, maintain these relative positions. The horsemen spread first. The ponies of Klaas and Jan fell to the rear, and were soon distanced. Then lagged the philosopher Hans, whose cob, though steady under fire, and a good roadster, was no hunter; and, next, the handsome Arend,—who might have taken a better place, for his steed was a good one. But Arend cared but little for hunting, and less for hard riding under a hot sun; and having permitted himself to get so far behind that the view of the chase was no longer interesting, he reined up under the shade of a cameel-doorn, and commenced fanning himself with the gauntlet of his military glove!
There were two, however, who still rode to the dogs with the keen ardour of sportsmen—Hendrik and Groot Willem; and from a feeling of rivalry, as already hinted at, each was determined to be in at the death.
Both were well mounted, though very dissimilarly. The horse that Hendrik rode was a beautiful coal-black, of medium size, with a dash of the Arab in him—just enough to make of him what is termed a “hunter,”—a breed the finest in the world, and for all purposes, except race-course gambling, finer even than the Arabian itself.
Groot Willem’s horse differed widely from this kind; and the same description that has been given of Groot Willem, or one very similar, would answer for his steed.
In size, he bore the same proportion to Hendrik’s hunter that his rider bore to Hendrik—that is, he was a full half bigger; but his own members were out of all proportion with each other.
His body was flat and gaunt, and his limbs long and bony. His neck also was of an immense length, without the slightest semblance of a curve; and his head was angular and “bumpy,” like that of a giraffe. He had other points of similarity to this singular quadruped, in his rough awkward gait, and long-stumped thin-haired tail; and the young yägers, in view of these resemblances, had jocosely christened him “Groot-Kameel,” (Great Camel). He was about as ugly a horse as could have been found in all the land of the boors; and yet his owner, Groot Willem, would not have exchanged him for the handsomest horse in Africa.
Notwithstanding his ugliness, he was a good horse. In jockey phrase, “a bad ’un to look at, a good ’un to go.” Groot Willem was no man for appearances. He liked performance better than promise; and the “Great Camel” was the type of that idea—he promised nothing, but performed amazingly. Many a quagga, and wildebeest and sassybe, had he ridden down; many a stanch buck-dog had he tired out and passed in the chase with the heavy weight of Groot Willem on his back. No wonder the latter felt a high regard for his well-trained hunting horse.
Hendrik had an equal affection for his beautiful black; and as no opportunity had yet offered of a fair trial between the two steeds, a good deal of talk had passed about their respective merits as regarded speed and “bottom.” On the question of beauty nothing could be said. Hendrik had the advantage there; and even Groot Willem acknowledged it, at the same time that he sneered at that being considered a “merit” in a horse.
The chase of the blauw-boks seemed to offer the chance of a fair trial. The animals had taken across the open plain, which would lead the hunters several miles at least, as the game was not one to be run down in a hurry. In a ride like that before them, it would be seen which backed the best steed.
Both riders were determined to make the most of their horses. Both were wary hunters, and, instead of dashing forward at break-neck speed, it could be seen that each was “going cunning,” and saving their steeds for the final burst. Hendrik felt that in speed for a mile or two he could have headed the “Camel” easily enough. But the bucks had got a good start, and it was not likely he could overtake them within that distance. He held up, therefore, riding gently, lest in the end the great horse of his rival might come out too strong for him.