The Kaffir suggested that he should drink some of the blood, but Percy naturally shuddered at the idea, and declared that the very thought of it made him feel less thirsty.
“A proof that you are not dying of thirst,” observed Denis. “However, you are perfectly right. The chances are, had you followed Gozo’s advice, you would have been made very ill.”
The Kaffir having secured a portion of the meat in a tree, and covered it over with part of the hide, some boughs
being placed on the top of all, they rode on as fast as their tired horses could go in the direction of the stream. They carried some of the meat, both of the buffalo and wildebeest, with them, but to eat it would have been impossible until they had quenched their thirst.
At last Gozo shouted out, “See, see! there is the water!” and they caught sight below them of a stream glittering in the sun as it wound its way through the broad valley. Their horses appeared to have seen it also, for they moved forward with more alacrity than heretofore. Presently, as they rounded a thicket, up sprang just before them a herd of waterbok.
“Whollop-a-hoo!” cried Denis, his usual hunting cry, and he dashed forward. “Venison will be better than tough wildebeest or heated buffalo meat.”
Reining in, as he was close to the animals, he fired, and brought one of them down.
“Hurrah!” cried his companions.
“We must have another!” he exclaimed. “Lionel, see what you can do. Gozo, stop and look after the beast I have shot;” and he rode forward, loading as he went.