The chase was now one of exceeding interest, and had become a simple trial of speed between horses, dogs, and antelope. The buck had kept on in a direct line, when the others broke away from him. He had been foremost at the time, and had no need to turn out of his course. Besides he knew where he was running to. Terror had driven the others out of their senses, and they had fled without design, while the old buck, not losing his “presence of mind,” kept on for the water.
A dark belt seen ahead was a forest fringing some stream or river. That was the point he was making for, but a wide plain must be crossed before he could wet his hoof in any water. Over this plain now swept the chase.
Oddly enough, the two dogs that had chosen the buck for their game were rival dogs—that is, each hunter was owner of one of them, and regarded him as a favourite; and all three kinds, dogs, horses, and riders, seemed to be on their mettle, and were doing their very best.
Do not fancy there was any ill-feeling between Groot Willem and Hendrik. Nothing of the sort. Each loved his horse and his dog, and wished them to excel—each had his hunter reputation at stake in the result—and each had resolved upon carrying the head and horns of that blue-buck in triumph to the camp!
Notwithstanding all this, there was no “bad blood” between the boys. Nothing of the sort.
Beautifully the buck ran. Lightly he leaped over the turf, his limbs at each spring stretching to an almost horizontal line, with head high in air and horns curving backward to his flanks. Well and beautifully he ran!
Sometimes he gained on his pursuers, as the nature of the ground favoured his hoofs; but again the strong buck-dogs howled upon his heels, and the hunters galloped but a hundred yards behind him. The blue of his back soon changed to a deeper tint, as the sweat poured through his sable skin, and the froth in large flakes clouted his neck and shoulders. His red tongue hung dripping from his jaws, and the hunters might have heard his hard breathing but for the panting of their own steeds.
Five miles did they go in that wild gallop—five miles without drawing rein or changing pace!
The woods were near—perhaps the water! The buck would gain them if not hard pressed—there might be a deep reach of some large river—the blauw-bok can swim like a duck—he would plunge in—they could not follow—they would lose him!
With such fears the hunters spurred their horses for a final burst. Their speed had proved nearly equal. Now was the time to try their “bottom.”