Oscar in Africa
Date: 2017-06-21T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Animals -- Juvenile fiction; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Adventure stories; Africa -- Juvenile fiction; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction; Natural history -- Juvenile fiction; Youth -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Hunting -- Juvenile fiction; Courage -- Juvenile fiction; Museums -- Juvenile fiction; Landlords -- Juvenile fiction

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Title: Oscar in Africa

Author: Harry Castlemon

Release date: June 21, 2017 [eBook #54954]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OSCAR IN AFRICA ***

Oscar's Narrow Escape.

OSCAR IN AFRICA

BY

HARRY CASTLEMON

AUTHOR OF "GUNBOAT SERIES," "ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES,"
"WAR SERIES," ETC., ETC.

THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.,
PHILADELPHIA,
CHICAGO,   TORONTO.

Copyright, 1882, by James Elverson.

Copyright, 1894, by Porter & Coates.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER | PAGE
I. | An Inquisitive Landlord, | 1
II. | African Treachery, | 12
III. | A Disgusted Sportsman, | 23
IV. | The Museum, | 33
V. | Compliments and Orders, | 44
VI. | An English Nimrod, | 54
VII. | Off for Africa, | 65
VIII. | An Incident of the Past, | 77
IX. | Oscar Makes a New Acquaintance, | 90
X. | A Baffled Swindler, | 103
XI. | Oscar Completes his Outfit, | 113
XII. | Oscar Sees a Chance to Get Even, | 124
XIII. | How Oscar Got Even, | 136
XIV. | Letters from Home, | 148
XV. | A Good Shot and a Surprise, | 158
XVI. | A Taste of Civilized Life, | 167
XVII. | A Midnight Alarm, | 177
XVIII. | Oscar Reaches his Hunting-Grounds, | 187
XIX. | A Fight and a Retreat, | 199
XX. | A Cowardly After-Rider, | 210
XXI. | An African Concert, | 221
XXII. | What McCann Did, | 232
XXIII. | The Sentinel Koodoo, | 244
XXIV. | The Battle in the Grove, | 254
XXV. | More Specimens, | 264
XXVI. | A Call from a Honey-Bird, | 273
XXVII. | A Scrap of Evidence, | 284
XXVIII. | Oscar Shows his Courage, | 296
XXIX. | "The Charge of the Heavy Brigade", | 306
XXX. | Oscar's Assistant Hunters, | 315
XXXI. | Good-by, McCann, | 325
XXXII. | Off for the Coast, | 337

OSCAR IN AFRICA.

CHAPTER I. AN INQUISITIVE LANDLORD.

"Who is he, anyhow? Where does he hail from, and what is he doing here?"

The speaker leaned over the little bar in the hotel at Maritzburg, and looked first at the landlord who stood behind it and then at half a dozen roughly dressed companions who were congregated in front of it.

These men were cattle-dealers and speculators. They made it a business to furnish oxen, wagons, supplies, and servants to hunters and travellers who were bound up the country.

They claimed a monopoly in this line, and the stranger who ignored them and exercised the right to purchase his outfit where he could do the best was sure to suffer at their hands in one way or another.

"He is from America," answered two or three of the men at once; and the tone in which the words were spoken betrayed both the pity and contempt they felt for one who was willing to acknowledge that he came from so benighted a region.

"Oh, he's a Yankee, is he?" exclaimed the first speaker. "I thought he didn't look and act like an Englishman. Isn't there a chance to make a few pounds out of him? He doesn't know the ropes, of course."

"If he doesn't know them all he knows a good many of them," replied the landlord. "He has had nothing to do with anybody about the hotel since he has been here, and has acted as independent as you please."

"What is his business?"

"That is the funny part of the story. I have heard, in a roundabout way—he has never said a word to me about himself or his affairs—that he is going into the interior on a sporting expedition."

"He is!" exclaimed the first speaker. "Why, he's nothing but a boy!"

"And a foolish one at that," chimed in another of the cattle-dealers. "I don't believe he ever fired a gun in his life."

"They say he has," replied the landlord. "The story goes that he has spent a winter alone in the Rocky Mountains—wherever they may be—and that he has killed bears and deer no end."

"I don't believe a word of it. Americans don't have money to spend in hunting, as our gentlemen sportsmen do."

"He's got plenty of it, and has paid his bills regular. I'll say that much for him," observed the landlord. "I am told that he is backed up by some college in America, and that he is employed to stock a museum there."

"Well, we don't want him here," said one of the cattle-dealers decidedly. "Nobody but our own countrymen have the right to hunt in Africa."

"I don't see how you are going to stop him."

"Oh, there are plenty of ways! We have stopped more than one hunter from going over the town hill, and we can stop this one."

"I wouldn't fool with him if I were you," said the landlord. "Judging by the way he acts, he has brought letters to somebody here in Maritzburg—although where he got them I don't know—and if he has you had better let him alone, or you'll get into trouble."

"Be careful about what you do," said one of the men who had not spoken before, and who answered to the name of Barlow. "He's smart, and better posted than any stranger I ever saw. I met him in Durban. He bought an outfit of me—oxen, wagon, and everything—all fair and square, and then backed out."

We have introduced this man by name, because he bears a somewhat important part in the history of Oscar's life in Africa. When we come to speak of him again we shall see that he did not confine himself strictly to the truth when he said that the boy had broken faith with him.

"I'd pay him for that if I were in your place," said the landlord.

He was in league with these cattle-dealers, who were swindlers without exception, and received a share in the profits of the business he was able to throw into their hands.

"Don't you worry," replied Barlow. "He hasn't left the colony yet."

"If I ran this hotel I would know something about him before he went away," said one of the men. "It may be that he is a convict, and that the story he tells about his doings in America is false."

"I have often thought of speaking to him about his object in coming here, and as he is going away to-day, perhaps I had better do it now," said the landlord.

Encouraged by the approving winks and nods of his friends, all of whom were burning with a desire to learn something authentic regarding the silent stranger, the landlord opened the door of the bar and walked through it toward the opposite side of the dingy little parlor, where the subject of these uncomplimentary remarks was standing in front of one of the windows, watching what was going on in the stable-yard.

Although one of the cattle-dealers had declared that he was nothing but a boy, he was large enough to be called a man. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his tight-fitting jacket and trousers of moleskin, with top-boots, revealed the outlines of a figure that was built for strength and activity.

On his head he wore a light leathern helmet, with a peak before and behind. His dress, from head to foot, had been selected with due regard for the climate and rough life he expected to lead in the wilds of Africa. A casual observer would not only have discovered a good-natured face, but a bold and resolute one, and you could not look at it without telling yourself that its owner was a boy who would dare anything. It was our old friend Oscar Preston.

Since he left his native land, three months ago, he had learned to love it and the people in it as he had never loved them before; and perhaps, when we come to describe some of the incidents that happened during his long journey, we shall see why it was so.

He looked around when the landlord came up and laid his hand familiarly on his shoulder, but did not say anything.

"Mr. Preston," said the landlord, "as you are about to leave my house, I should like to ask you a few questions, if you have no objections."

"Mr. Dibbits," replied Oscar, "how much do I owe you?"

"It isn't that, sir; I assure you it isn't that. You have paid your bills like a gentleman. But when a guest comes and goes in such a mysterious way——"

"There is nothing mysterious about me or my movements," interrupted Oscar. "You won't let a fellow mind his own business even if he wants to, will you? You must have heard—for it is all over town, and in everybody's mouth—that I came here to procure specimens of natural history for a museum in America. That much I am at liberty to tell anybody; but my private affairs I decline to talk about. If you want to learn anything more concerning me go to Mr. Donahue, Mr. Morgan, or Mr. McElroy; and, if you are intimate with them, perhaps they will satisfy your curiosity."

The landlord began to open his eyes when he heard this. Mr. Donahue was the magistrate, Mr. Morgan was the editor of the leading political paper in Durban, and Mr. McElroy was the delegate for the colony.

An Englishman has the greatest respect for big names, and a guest who could speak of these gentlemen as Oscar did was one that could not be treated with too much familiarity.

"I meant no offence, Mr. Preston," the landlord hastened to say; "but you will acknowledge——"

"Yes, I will have to acknowledge it, for everybody tells me so," replied Oscar. "Folks look sideways at me, and say, 'Are you not rather young for such business, Mr. Preston?' When I first met Mr. Donahue, and told him where I had been, and what I had done in the way of hunting in my own country, he looked the very picture of astonishment, and said my story was almost incredible. Perhaps he wouldn't have believed a word of it if I hadn't brought the proofs with me. I suppose I am young in years for such work; but what I have done, and still hope to do, will bear no comparison with what another American boy has done—and he didn't brag about it, either. He left his home in New England when he was only seventeen years old, went to the La Plata River, in South America, and walked from there to Valparaiso—a distance of more than a thousand miles—in the face of all sorts of dangers and difficulties. I suppose you never heard of that before?"

No; Mr. Dibbits couldn't say he had.

"Of course you never heard of it, for he wasn't an English boy. If he had been the whole world would have heard of it. One of your own authors says of the book he wrote about that walk, as near as I can recall the words, 'Sir Francis Head went over this same ground on horseback, and gave us a good account of it; but the quiet walk of this American boy is worth infinitely more than the rough rides of the British baronet.' What do you think of that, Mr. Dibbits?"

"It's very extraordinary—very!" replied the landlord.

"I should say it was; but it is true, and it shows that American boys have some get-up about them, doesn't it?"

"It certainly does. I know that you will go through with your undertaking as he did with his, for I can see by your face that you are a brave lad."

"If you were an Irishman I should say that was blarney," thought Oscar. "You've got an axe to grind."

"You'll be needing cattle and salted horses," continued Mr. Dibbits, "and if I could be of any assistance now——"

"I thought there was something of that sort in the wind," said Oscar to himself; then aloud he answered, "I have everything I need, thank you; and even if I hadn't I should not think of dealing with any of those men who are now standing at your bar. I know one of them; I met him in Durban, and I know he is angry at me because I did not buy my outfit and hire my men of him. I know, too, that he and his fellows have a way of breaking up the hunting expeditions of men they do not like; but I didn't come here to be broken up, and I won't be, either. If anybody interferes with me—— Mr. Dibbits, just look at that!"

While Oscar was speaking he chanced to turn his eyes toward the stable-yard and saw a sight that astonished and enraged him.

CHAPTER II. AFRICAN TREACHERY.

The stable-yard was inclosed on one side by the hotel, on another by the barn, and on the two opposite sides by upper sheds, which were built very high and roomy in order to accommodate the Cape wagons that now and then sought refuge there during bad weather.

There was a wagon under one of the sheds now, and an enormous affair it was, too. It was so large that one of the ordinary lumber wagons we see on the streets every day would have looked like a hand-cart beside it. It belonged to our friend Oscar, and was filled to overflowing with supplies of all kinds.

The trek-tow, or chain, by which the oxen were to draw the unwieldy vehicle, was made fast to the tongue (the natives called it a "dissel-boom"), and lay at full length on the ground, the yokes being deposited at intervals beside it.

Oscar's driver and fore-loper had placed the chain and the yokes in these positions before going to the pound to bring up the cattle.

They had been gone half an hour, and their employer was expecting them back every moment.

Because Oscar's oxen were in the pound the reader must not suppose that they had been engaged in any mischief, for such was not the case.

The law of the colony required that they must be taken care of every night, when there were cultivated fields in the vicinity, and the price that was charged for putting them in the pound was much less than Oscar would have been obliged to pay if he had employed herdsmen enough to keep them within bounds; besides, they were safer there than they would have been anywhere else, for nobody could steal them.

When Oscar first took his stand in front of the window there was but one man in the stable-yard, and he was engaged in grooming a small iron-gray horse which he had hitched in front of the barn door.

That horse was a part of Oscar's outfit. He was by no means a handsome or even a desirable-looking animal as he stood there with his head down, his eyes half closed, and a general air of worthlessness and indifference about him; but he was a "salted" horse—that is, he had had the distemper, been cured of it, and was warranted not to have it again—and, consequently, he was worth money.

He was one of the nags that Oscar, by the advice of his new-found friends, had selected to carry him on his long journey; and as he had heard a good many stories told regarding his speed, courage, steadiness, and other good qualities as a hunter, the boy had indulged in some rosy dreams about the runs he hoped to have when he reached the country in which the lordly eland, the stately giraffe, and the fleet-footed quagga and wilde-beest abounded.

While Oscar was conversing with the landlord he looked him full in the face, and when he directed his gaze toward the stable-yard again he saw a young man walk leisurely into it through the arched gateway, and, after exchanging a few words with the hostler, turn his steps toward the wagon that stood under the shed.

He stopped beside the dissel-boom, and Oscar, who had been warned that eternal vigilance was the price he must pay for making his expedition successful, kept his eyes fixed upon him and watched every movement.

He saw the young man look all around, to make sure that there was no one but the hostler in sight, and then take some glittering object from his pocket and work it up and down over one of the links of the trek-tow.

"Just look at that, will you?" repeated Oscar, seizing Mr. Dibbits by the arm and turning him around so that he could look into the stable-yard. "Is that the kind of care you take of property belonging to your guests?"

"Why, whatever is the fellow doing?" exclaimed the landlord, who seemed to be very much astonished.

"I know, if you don't," replied Oscar in a tone of voice that had a good deal of meaning in it. "Hold on, there!" he added as the landlord reached out his hand, as if he were about to raise the window. "Say not a word. I'll attend to him, and if I can get my hands on him I'll see what Mr. Donahue will have to say to him."

Oscar faced about, and giving his leather helmet a slap, to fix it firmly on his head, started on a full run for the door.

No sooner had he left the room than the landlord quickly but noiselessly threw up the sash, and, leaning as far out the window as he could without losing his balance, called out in a suppressed voice:

"Thomas! Thomas! Look out for yourself!"

And having attracted the young man's attention, he went through some sort of a pantomime that must have been perfectly understood, for Thomas took to his heels and was out of sight in a twinkling.

The next moment Oscar Preston darted around the corner of the hotel and entered the stable-yard. He looked everywhere for the young man, but he was not to be found.

He glanced up at the window and saw that it was closed. He walked over to his wagon, and after a short search found the link on which Thomas had been at work with a saw made of a watch-spring.

The marks of the teeth were there, but he had not done the chain any damage, because he had been interrupted before he had fairly settled down to business.

"It's lucky that I am posted," thought Oscar as he walked around the wagon to make sure that everything in and about it was just as he had left it. "If that fellow had been left undisturbed for five or ten minutes he would have sawed that link half in two. Then he would have filled up the cut with mud, and just about the time we were going up the town hill, and the oxen were beginning to lay out their strength, that link would have given way and I should have had to come back for a new start, and perhaps to have the same trick played upon me a second time. That's the way these cattle-dealers have served more than one traveller, trader, and sportsman, but they will have to try something else on me."

Having satisfied himself that his wagon had not been tampered with, Oscar walked toward the hostler, who did not look up from his work.

As an accompaniment to his manipulations, he kept up a constant hissing through his teeth, producing a sound which much resembled that which is made by drawing a brush quickly across a curry comb.

Why he did it Oscar could not understand. Perhaps it was for the same reason that an Irish laborer follows every blow of his pick with a sonorous "wish-h-h!"—viz., to make his work easier.

When Oscar came up he stopped his hissing long enough to say:

"Hit's a wery fine 'oss you 'ave'ere, sir, an' I shall be glad to drink your 'ealth and his'n, if you so please."

"I will give you half a crown if you will tell me the name of the man who was fooling with my trek-tow just now," answered Oscar.

The hostler resumed his hissing again at once. He evidently wanted to consider the matter before he ventured a reply.

"I'd be glad to earn the 'arf crown, sir," said he at length, "but I can't do it. I aint seen nobody."

"I know better!" exclaimed Oscar. "He stopped and talked with you when he first came into the stable-yard."

"Oh, that man? I don't know 'im, sir. I never see 'im afore to-day."

Oscar said no more. He walked through the gateway, and, looking in the direction of the pound, saw his oxen coming up the street.

"I'll soon be far away from this den of swindlers," said he to himself; "but whether or not I shall be any better off than I am now remains to be seen. Mr. McElroy says that the Dutch farmers are friendly to nobody but Scotchmen, and how they will treat an American I don't know, for I am the first one who has ever been here."

"Did you catch him, sir?" inquired the landlord when Oscar came back and took his stand in front of the window again.

"Of course not!" replied the boy in a tone of disgust. "I knew I couldn't catch him, for he has too many watchful friends about this hotel. He was warned before I reached the stable-yard. By the way, Mr. Dibbits, I am expecting a few gentlemen to dine with me this evening, and I want your pleasantest parlor and the best dinner you can serve up."

"Very well, sir," answered the landlord. "You shall have both."

Oscar turned toward the window again, and just then a horseman galloped up to the porch and dismounted.

Giving his steed into the charge of one of the stable-boys who hurried out to receive him, the man clattered up the steps and threw open the door.

If there is any faith to be put in appearances, he was pretty mad about something. His face was flushed, his shaggy eyebrows were drawn down in a fierce scowl, and even his bushy side-whiskers seemed to bristle with rage.

"Ah, colonel, I am surprised as well as delighted to see you back here," said the landlord, rubbing his hands and bowing obsequiously. "Is there any way in which I can serve you?"

The angry man paid no sort of attention to the greeting.

He came over to Oscar's end of the parlor and stamped up and down the floor, thrashing his boots with his riding-whip.

The boy took one look at him, and turned and gazed out of the window again. He was fairly convulsed with laughter.

"Aha, my fine fellow," said he to himself; "you are the high-toned lord who would not hunt with strangers, especially American boys! I know what is the matter with you, and if your arrogance has met with another rebuke I am very glad of it."

After a few turns across the room the colonel seemed to have worked off a little of his rage, for he stopped and looked out at one of the other windows.

Just then Oscar's oxen came into the stable-yard, and a fine-looking lot they were—large, powerful animals, as black as jet and as sleek as moles.

"Whose stock is that?" demanded the colonel in much the same tone he would have used if he had been ordering one of his hounds out of his way.

"It is mine, sir," replied Oscar politely.

The colonel started at the sound of his voice and stared hard at the boy, who smiled and touched his cap to him.

CHAPTER III. A DISGUSTED SPORTSMAN.

This was not the first time Oscar had met Colonel Dunhaven, for that was the angry Englishman's name. On the contrary, they had travelled a good many miles in company and were pretty well acquainted; but the colonel could not be sure on this point until he had pulled out his gold eyeglass and brought it to bear on the boy.

"Aw! It's you, is it?" said he, after he had taken a good look at our hero.

The tone in which these words were uttered, and which was almost insulting, would have made some high-spirited boys angry; but Oscar evidently considered the source from which the words came, for he bowed in response and looked as good-natured as ever.

"Young man," continued the colonel, "you are a fool, and those who sent you out here are bigger fools."

Oscar did not feel at all hurt by this plain speech. He could hardly refrain from laughing outright.

He looked down at his sleek oxen, which were now being inspanned in the stable-yard (oxen are never "yoked" in Africa, they are always "inspanned"), and smiled complacently as he replied:

"That's only a matter of opinion, colonel."

"No, sir; it's a fact, and nobody's opinion can alter it," said the colonel, who seemed to grow angry again when he looked at Oscar's well-conditioned cattle and noted the energy and willingness with which his men went about their work. "It is perfectly ridiculous to send a boy like you out to this detestable country on such a wild-goose chase. You'll never succeed—you'll never get over the town hill, I couldn't."

"What was the matter?" asked Oscar, who knew very well what the answer would be. "Couldn't your oxen haul you over?"

"They might if they had got the chance, though I doubt it. They are a sorry lot compared with yours; and I don't for the life of me see——"

The colonel stopped there; but Oscar knew what he had in his mind.

He could not see how Oscar had managed to secure so fine an outfit, while his own, for which he had paid an exorbitant price, was so very inferior.

"My cattle might have pulled the wagon over the hill," continued the colonel, "but just as we came to one of the steepest parts of it the trek-tow broke, and we wasted four mortal hours in taking it to the blacksmith's shop and having it repaired. To make a long story short, we did nothing yesterday but run between the wagon and the shop with that chain, for it was broken as often as we hitched it to the dissel-boom. By that time everything and everybody began to get discouraged. The loose cattle and horses strayed away, the oxen refused to pull, and the driver showed his temper by running the wagon into a hole in which the ground was so yielding that one of the wheels sank down to the hub. That happened late last night, and as we could go no further we camped there. When I awoke this morning my oxen and most of my horses were gone, and so were my men, all except my body-servant, whom I left to guard the wagon while I came back here to see if I can find anyone who is fool enough to buy me out. Oh, it's a beastly country, and I have seen enough of it!"

The colonel in his rage talked very loudly, and Oscar—who out of the corner of his eye kept watch of the men at the bar—saw that when he began to talk of selling out they smiled at one another and exchanged sly winks and nods. That was just what they intended he should do.

By this time Oscar's wagon was ready to start. The oxen were inspanned, the fore-loper stood at his post with the leading reins in his hands, the interpreter was seated on the fore-chest, and the driver, with his long whip over his shoulder, came to the window for orders.

"I say, Ferguson!" exclaimed Oscar as he threw up the sash.

"Hi, boas!" replied the grinning Hottentot.

"Go ahead as fast as you can. I will overtake you some time during the night, and when I find the wagon I want to find every man of you with it."

"All right, boas!" said the driver.

He climbed to his seat on the fore-chest, cracked his whip with a report like that of a pistol; the fore-loper moved off, and the ponderous vehicle rolled through the gate as easily as if it had been a toy-wagon.

Heavily loaded as it was, it seemed to offer no impediment to the free movements of the powerful span that drew it.

Oscar had rechristened all his native servants—the names to which they generally answered being hard to pronounce and harder still to bear in mind.

To his driver he gave the name of Ferguson. His fore-loper—another little dried-up Hottentot—he called Johnson; and his interpreter, a gigantic Kaffir—who in size, if not in appearance, reminded him of his old plains guide—he dubbed Big Thompson.

This created an amusing jumble at first, for the men could not remember their new names; but they had grown accustomed to them at last and answered to them readily.

"You had better stop that wagon before it goes any further," said the colonel. "You don't know what is before you."

"And I don't much care," replied Oscar. "Others have gone through, and so can I."

The colonel stared at him in surprise, and in order to obtain a better view of Oscar's face he brought his eyeglass into use. He had never dreamed that this quiet, modest boy, who during the long voyage from London docks to Port Natal had kept almost entirely to himself, could possess so much determination. He was inclined to be angry over it, too.

"Aw!" said he in a tone of disgust; "whatever may be your other failings, young man, you certainly are not wanting in self-conceit. You have a most exalted opinion of yourself. I suppose you think you can eclipse the achievements of such small fry as Cumming, Baldwin, and Gilmore! I never heard of such impudence!"

"I don't expect to eclipse anybody. I simply mean to say that what has been done can be done again," replied Oscar with more spirit than the colonel had ever before seen him exhibit.

"You have good cheek, but you will sing a different song before you are many hours older, my fine lad," said the colonel; and Oscar thought, from the tone in which the words were spoken, that the man would feel a grim satisfaction if he could see him come back defeated and utterly disheartened. "Wait until your chains begin to break and your servants to show their treachery."

"My chains will not break, for they have been so closely watched that no one has had a chance to tamper with them," was the confident reply; "and neither will my men prove treacherous. I did not take the first who offered themselves, but selected those recommended by my friends."

Again the colonel looked at Oscar in surprise.

"Your friends?" he repeated. "I thought you were a stranger here, like myself."

"So I was when I first arrived, but the letters I brought from England made friends for me at once."

"From England! Whom do you know there?"

Oscar mentioned several names, among them that of a well-known African hunter, whose exploits, and the book he wrote about them, had rendered him famous the world over, adding:

"I spent a very pleasant week with that particular gentleman, and should have remained longer with him had I been at liberty to do as I pleased. From him I received advice that enabled me to avoid the difficulties that have already begun to beset you."

Oscar was almost bewildered by the effect that was produced by these words. He could hardly believe that the man who shook him so cordially by the hand when he ceased speaking was the same Colonel Dunhaven who had always repelled his advances with the utmost haughtiness.

The colonel was like Mr. Dibbits in one particular—he had the greatest respect for big names.

"My dear fellow," said he, "why did you not tell me all this before?"

"You didn't give me a chance to tell you," replied Oscar bluntly. "You snubbed me most unmercifully whenever I——"

"Aw!" interrupted the colonel; "that's all past and gone, and we will consider that it never happened. The fact is, we Englishmen don't know how to fall in with the free-and-easy ways you Americans have. We don't take up with every Tom, Dick, and Harry that comes along. We want to know who a man is before we open our hearts to him."

"For all that, I should think you might be gentleman enough to treat a stranger civilly when he approaches you in a civil way."

The boy did not utter these words aloud, although he wanted to, for he did not at all like the colonel. The latter had snubbed him more than once, and Oscar could not forget it.

"I wonder what he would say now if I should ask him to hunt in company with me?" thought our hero. "I'll not try the experiment, for he might consent, and I don't think I want him. I wouldn't sell out if I were in your place, colonel," he said aloud. "You must have spent a good deal of money in getting here. I know I did, and I never wasted a shilling; and I wouldn't let those fellows"—here he nodded his head toward the men who were gathered about the bar—"have the satisfaction of knowing that they had beaten me. Take this chair, and I will tell you something."

Oscar and the colonel seated themselves in front of one of the windows, with their backs toward the bar, and the former gave a short account of his experience with one of the cattle-dealers. What it was we shall presently see.

CHAPTER IV. THE MUSEUM.

"It beats anything I ever heard of. Do you suppose that Oscar Preston really killed a grizzly bear and saved his guide's life?"

"Of course he did. Sam Hynes received a letter last February that contained a full account of it."

"Why didn't he tell the fellows then?"

"Because Oscar asked him to keep it secret. He didn't want his mother to know anything about it, for fear it would frighten her, and Sam told no one but Mr. Chamberlain."

"Who would have thought that Oscar had so much in him? We fellows have associated with him for years, and none of us ever imagined that he had pluck enough to face the most terrible animal on this continent, and nerve enough to kill him with a single bullet! It's just wonderful!"

That was the opinion of all the Eaton boys, who often talked in this way among themselves after Oscar returned from his memorable trip to the foot-hills, and all the thrilling incidents connected with his life there had become known. And they became known very speedily.

Oscar's safe return abrogated the command he had laid upon his friend Sam Hynes to say nothing about the contents of his letters, and the successful young hunter had scarcely entered his mother's door before Sam proceeded to "unload"—in other words, to get rid of numerous secrets to which he could hold fast no longer, and to publish abroad a full history of everything Oscar had done during his absence.

He was able to make his statements accurate in every particular, for Oscar had kept nothing from him.

"You can't always tell about these things," Sam would frequently remark. "You don't know what there is in a fellow until he has been tested. It isn't the bully of the town, the loud-mouthed braggart, or the ruffian who is always ready to fight somebody smaller than himself who stands up to the rack when it comes to such business as Oscar Preston had on hand that January afternoon. I always knew that boy had uncommon nerve. He has made a reputation already that will last longer than he will."

Our friend Oscar had indeed made a name for himself. He was the lion of the village, and, strange to say, nobody was jealous of him.

That miserable spirit of detraction which so often comes to the surface on occasions like this never exhibited itself but once, and then it was promptly knocked out of time by Sam Hynes, who "laid out" one of the "river boys" for saying that he didn't believe that Oscar Preston had brought any bear back with him, but if he had it had been killed by a silver bullet.

The young hunter heard words of commendation and encouragement on all sides, but we doubt if any of them sent such a thrill to his heart as the simple, "Thank you, Oscar; I shall keep it always to remember you by," which he heard from the lips of Sam Hynes' pretty sister when he presented her with the antelope-skin he had brought home on purpose for her.

There was another thing that astonished everybody, and that was the fact that Oscar had found his brother Tom, the defaulting bookkeeper, hidden away in those Western wilds, and that he had returned some of the money out of which he had swindled Smith & Anderson.

Tom, as we know, had hired out to herd sheep for Ike Barker. He did his duty as well as he knew how, and every few weeks a letter arrived from his employer, containing the welcome intelligence that he was faithfully living up to every promise he had made his brother.

Oscar was very glad to find himself in Eaton once more. After the toil and excitement of his winter in the hills he thoroughly enjoyed the quiet comforts of his home.

Everything in and about the village looked just as it did when he left it. All his old friends were there to greet him, including Bugle, who was so overjoyed to see his master once more that he could not be induced to leave him for a moment. He kept close at his heels during the day, and slept beside his bed at night. Oscar took two weeks to rest in, and that gave him and Sam Hynes two Saturdays to spend together.

The first they passed in the woods, in company with Bugle; and although they took their guns with them, they brought back the same loads that were in them when they started out.

They did not go into the woods to shoot. They wanted to be alone, so that they could talk over old times and tell each other everything that had happened during their long separation.

The next Saturday they spent on the river; and as it was too late in the season for ducks, they took their fishing-rods with them.

The perch and rock bass were biting finely, and Oscar caught a good-sized string; while Sam, who wanted to talk and did not care much for fishing anyway, reclined at his ease on one of the thwarts and watched his friend as he drew in the shining beauties.

On Monday of the third week Oscar bade his mother and Sam good-by and set out for Yarmouth.

He had already been there to report his arrival to the committee, and it was by the permission of the secretary that he took his two weeks' vacation.

He knew that he had brought back a goodly number of specimens (he had secured a great many that we did not speak of in "The Camp in the Foot-Hills," for the reason that there was no incident worthy of note connected with their capture), but he was really surprised when he saw the boxes that were piled in the museum.

It took Oscar a long time to put his specimens in shape. It was particular work, and as he knew that it would stand as long as the museum did, he was careful that it should be done well.

No one saw him at his labor except the students and the faculty; and the young taxidermist sometimes wished that they would keep out of his hearing, especially President Potter, who gave such entertaining lectures on the nature and habits of the various animals comprising the collection that Oscar was always obliged to stop and listen to him.

Still these interruptions were not without benefit to him.

He learned more about natural history during those brief lectures than he had ever learned before in all his life. It was a joyous day for Oscar when, after almost seven months of steady work, he put away his tools and bent his steps toward his boarding-house, leaving the museum in charge of some of the students, who were busy decorating it in readiness for a "hoe-down," as they called it, that was to come off there that night.

Everything was done to the entire satisfaction of the committee and of Mr. Adrian, the gentleman through whose liberality the museum was founded; and on this particular evening the doors were to be thrown open to the public, and there was to be a supper and afterward a dance.

The students who were at the head of the matter had acquaintances and friends in Eaton, and a good many invitations had been sent there.

When the five o'clock train came these invited guests came with it—Oscar's mother and Mr. Hynes and his family being among the number.

Oscar met them at the depot, accompanied them to a hotel, and then he and Sam—the latter having received a wink he readily understood—managed to separate themselves from the party and to reach the sidewalk without attracting attention.

"I want you to see it first," said Oscar as he took his friend by the arm and hurried him away. "If I do say it myself, you will find some good work there."

Sam was astonished at what he saw. There were four rooms in the museum, the largest being devoted to Oscar's specimens. Against the walls were placed huge cabinets, with glass doors. These were partly filled with the smaller specimens, all of which were stuffed, mounted, and arranged in the most artistic manner; but Sam scarcely bestowed a second glance upon them, for his attention was at once fixed by what Oscar called his "masterpieces," which were placed at intervals along the middle of the room.

There were three of them, the first being the grizzly, which had so nearly made an end of Big Thompson.

The position the animal assumed on that memorable afternoon, while he was awaiting the guide's approach, was firmly fixed in Oscar's memory, and he had succeeded in reproducing it exactly.

So life-like did the grizzly look as he stood there on his platform, with his mane erect, his ears thrown forward, and his glaring eyes fastened on a cabinet on the opposite side of the room, that Sam could hardly bring himself to believe that it was safe to approach him.

The next specimen was the lordly elk that Big Thompson's hunting-dog—the dog that was called Pink on account of the color of his hair, which was black—had beguiled to his death.

He stood with his head raised, and looking defiantly about him, just as he had looked when he followed Pink out of the bushes.

The third was a group representing a fight between a big-horn and two gray wolves. One of the assailants was struggling on the ground, having been knocked down by a well-directed blow, and the gallant buck was making a dead set for the other, which stood with his ears laid back and all his teeth visible, awaiting the attack.

But these "masterpieces" were not the only objects of interest that were to be seen, as Sam found when he came to look about him.

A hungry-looking wolf grinned at him from a corner; a stately black-tail, with lowered head and bristling mane, threatened him with his antlers as he entered an alcove; and a bald eagle glared down at him from his perch over one of the doors, warning him, as plainly as an inanimate object could, to keep his hands off the flag it was grasping in its talons.

When he paused in front of the cabinets the squirrels, that were gathering their winter supply of nuts, the fox, that was watching a duck he wanted to catch for his dinner, the birds, that were building their nests, and the beavers, that were repairing their winter quarters—all looked at him as if to ask what he meant by intruding his unwelcome presence upon them.

In short, Sam was delighted with everything he saw, and more than once declared that he believed some of the birds and animals were alive. He could have paid his friend no higher compliment.

CHAPTER V. COMPLIMENTS AND ORDERS.

"What a dreadful-looking monster! And do you mean to tell us, Mr. Wallace, that this terrible beast was killed by a boy?"

"That's what they say," answered the gentleman addressed.

"How brave he must be! Go and find him, please. I should like to see him."

"It will afford me great pleasure to do so. I don't know him even by sight, but I can soon find someone who does."

It was eight o'clock in the evening. The museum doors had been opened, and the guests had nearly all arrived.

There was a crowd about each one of Oscar's "masterpieces." Among those who were gathered around the grizzly was a group composed of three ladies and a gentleman, and it was one of the former who uttered the exclamation, and asked the question with which this chapter opens.

A little distance away, and within plain hearing, stood Oscar Preston, with his mother on his arm.

The boy had heard a good many flattering remarks during the quarter of an hour that had elapsed since the guests began to arrive, and he had wished more than once that he was back in the foot-hills, with nobody but Big Thompson for company.

He could hardly make up his mind which was the most trying ordeal—facing a grizzly when a human life depended on his nerve, or hearing himself praised by people who, being unacquainted with him, expressed their sentiments in his presence without the least hesitation.

"Let's go away, mother," said he in a whisper. "I don't want to be introduced to those ladies if I can help it; for they will ask a thousand and one questions. I shot the bear, dreadful as he looks, but I would rather that somebody else should tell the story."

Oscar presently found Mr. Hynes and his party, who were gathered about the third group, listening to President Potter, who, with his eyes half closed and his hands waving gently in the air, was giving a little lecture on the habits of the animals, and describing in glowing language the fierce battle which Oscar had once witnessed between a flock of bighorns and a pack of gray wolves.

He left his mother with them and strolled off by himself. Of course he was proud of his success. He felt a thrill of pleasure whenever he heard an exclamation of astonishment or delight from any of the guests, and could scarcely repress a smile when his ear caught a little scream, uttered by some timid lady, who, when about to explore some of the numerous nooks and alcoves that were constantly presenting themselves in the most unexpected places, found her progress disputed by some threatening animal.

When Sam Hynes found him he was standing in a remote corner, watching the crowd before him, and acting altogether like a disinterested spectator.

"What are you doing here, Oscar?" demanded Sam, seizing him by the arm. "Come out of that!"

"No, you don't!" replied Oscar. "Let go and clear out yourself."

"Can't think of it—can't possibly think of it," said Sam resolutely. "I was sent to bring you, and I am going to do it. There are a lot of people here who want to see you."

"Why can't they look at the specimens and let me alone?" said Oscar.

"They have seen all the stuffed specimens, and now they want to see an animated one," answered Sam. "You belong to the museum, you know. Didn't I tell you long ago that they would make a lion of you? I'd show a little more pluck if I were in your place. Come on, I tell you!"

Oscar was not the only brave boy who has hesitated to face a battery of bright eyes; but he was forced to go with Sam in order to avoid a "scene," for the latter clung to his arm with a firm grip.

He mingled with the guests, and although he blushed and stammered a little at first, he gained confidence when he heard the sound of his own voice, and in a few minutes he was talking glibly and sometimes eloquently of his winter in the foot-hills.

The evening passed rapidly away. The hop was most enjoyable, and the supper excellent; but when Oscar and his mother seated themselves in the two o'clock train, bound for Eaton, he told her he was glad it was all over.

He rested on Friday—and if ever a boy needed a rest he did—and spent Saturday in the woods with Sam Hynes. They came back by the post-office, and in his mother's box Oscar found a letter addressed to himself in the well-known hand of the secretary of the museum committee.

He read it to Sam as they walked across the park. It contained an order for him to report at Yarmouth on the following Monday, and wound up with these words:

"Mr. Adrian is so well pleased with your success as a hunter, and with your skill as a taxidermist, that he has offered to advance twenty-five thousand dollars to pay your expenses to Africa. You have often assured us that you were willing to go wherever we might think it to our interest to send you; and, taking you at your word, we have accepted the gift——"

Oscar stopped, and looked at Sam, who backed off and put his hands into his pockets. They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, and then walked on again.

—"we have accepted the gift [Oscar read], and we are glad to receive it, as it will not now be necessary for you to draw on our permanent fund in order to foot your bills. I think I may tell you, without violating confidence, that, although you said nothing to us concerning the difficulties and perplexities you encountered during your recent trip to the foot-hills, we know all about them. The commander of the post at Julesburg and Mr. Isaac Barker have written us a full history of your expedition. We appreciate your modesty in withholding these facts. We are both surprised and delighted at your unyielding courage and indomitable perseverance——"

"Oh, Sam, I'll not read anymore of it!" exclaimed Oscar, suddenly stopping and folding up the letter.

"Go on," replied Sam, who was deeply interested. "It is all true—every word of it; for you have told me all about it. 'Your courage and perseverance'—what else?"

Oscar rather reluctantly unfolded the letter again and read:

—"and we have not the least hesitation in calling upon you to engage in a still more hazardous undertaking; for you have firmly established yourself in our confidence. As an extra inducement the committee has been instructed by Mr. Adrian to double your salary. Report on Monday, as above directed, and begin at once to make arrangements looking to your immediate departure for England."

"Is that all? Good-by, Oscar Preston," said Sam, drawing a long breath. "But you want to go, don't you?"

"For myself, yes; for mother's sake, no," answered Oscar as he put the letter back into the envelope.

Africa was a long way off. There were a good many thousand miles of water to be sailed over before he got there; there were icebergs in the Atlantic, and fearful storms in the Bay of Biscay; there were fierce wild animals and deadly serpents in this new hunting-ground; and there were a scorching sun and a malarial climate to be faced.

Sam Hynes had not another word to say. When he reached the corner where he was to turn off he seized Oscar's hand and wrung it energetically, at the same time turning away his head, so that his friend could not see his face, and then walked rapidly away.

"There is one, at least, who dreads the parting as much as I do, and if I should never come back he'd be sorry," thought Oscar, gazing after Sam, who, with his hands thrust deep into his pockets and his chin resting on his breast, was taking long strides up the sidewalk. "Yes, I know Sam would be sorry. Here is another," he added, stopping to pat Bugle, who just then put his cold nose into his master's hand. "And here, in this house, is the third," he said to himself as he opened the gate. "But what can I do? My trip to the hills was the means of lifting the mortgage off this house and giving mother a balance in the bank, and who knows but my journey to Africa may be productive of other good results? I must go, whether I want to or not. I said I would, and I shall keep my word."

Oscar handed the secretary's letter to his mother without saying a word, and then, as he did not want to see her read it, he went out and strolled about the yard and rearranged the tools in his chest.

When he came back at the end of an hour he saw that she had been crying.

That night there was a long consultation held between the anxious mother and the ambitious, hopeful son, but we will not stop to repeat it, nor will we dwell upon the arrangements that were made for the boy's departure from America.

It will be enough to say that before Oscar went to bed that night it had been settled that the committee's order should be obeyed; that he took the first train for Yarmouth on Monday morning; that he had an interview with the committee, who gave him minute instructions in writing and promised him letters that would assist in smoothing the way for him; that he dined with Mr. Adrian, who received him as an honored guest; and that when he came home on Tuesday night he began packing his trunk, in readiness for the start.

The committee had given him a week in which to prepare for his long journey, and he took it, because he wanted to spend one more Saturday with Sam Hynes, whom he might never see again.

We will say nothing about the parting which took place on the next Wednesday morning. There were a good many boys and not a few men at the depot to see him off, but Sam Hynes was not among them.

He rode down in the omnibus with Oscar, and then cleared out abruptly, just as he had done on a former occasion.

Oscar reached Yarmouth in due time, listened to more instructions, received letters of introduction and bills of credit for a larger amount of money than he had ever handled before in all his life; and three days more found him on the broad bosom of the Atlantic.

Of course he was sea-sick, and that was about the only thing that happened to relieve the monotony of the voyage, which, on the whole, was a very pleasant as well as a remarkably quick one.

There was some delay in getting his trunk through the custom-house in Liverpool on account of the weapons it contained; but everything was satisfactorily arranged at last, and shortly afterward Oscar was snugly housed in the hotel to which he had been directed by Mr. Adrian.

CHAPTER VI. AN ENGLISH NIMROD.

If Oscar had been his own master he could have spent a few days very agreeably in looking about the city of Liverpool.

Among other things he wanted to see were the famous docks, of which he had heard and read so much; but his time belonged to the committee, who paid him liberally for it, and he did not consider that he had a right to use any portion of it for his own pleasure.

His first duty was to visit Somerset, a little town about a hundred miles distant, and present some of his letters of introduction to a celebrated hunter and traveller who lived there.

He knew where the town was and how to reach it, for his written instructions and guide-book told him all about it.

Oscar lost no time in securing his ticket, and the first train that left Liverpool for the North whirled him away toward his destination, which he reached about midnight.

Everything he saw on the way was new and strange. He did not at all like the idea of being locked in a "carriage"—for that is what a passenger car is called in England.

What if there should be a smash-up? or what if that quiet, dignified gentleman who sat opposite him and who was the only other passenger in that compartment should prove to be an escaped lunatic, who might at any moment become violent?

But the train, although it moved at a high rate of speed, carried him through in safety, and the dignified gentleman on the other seat snored lustily during the entire journey.

Oscar slept soundly at the Hare and Hounds, and awoke the next morning to find it raining in torrents.

He ate an excellent breakfast in a cosey little parlor, and when he had finished he sent for the landlord, who quickly made his appearance.

"Do you know Captain Horatio Sterling?" asked Oscar.

That was not the name of the gentleman to whom the young traveller's letters of introduction were addressed; but we must call him by some name, you know.

"Do I know the greatest hunter in all England?" exclaimed the landlord. "Why, bless you, sir, everybody knows him. He has been all over the world, and killed more tigers, lions, and elephants than any other living man. He lives in that big house on the hill about a mile from here."

"Very well," said Oscar, drawing an official envelope from his pocket. "I would thank you to send this to him at once. There is something for the messenger," he added, placing a shilling in the landlord's hand.

The envelope contained three letters of introduction, Oscar's card, which also bore the name of his hotel, and a note he had written before going to bed, containing the statement that he would be glad to wait upon the captain at any hour of the day or evening when it might be most convenient for the captain to grant him an interview.

Oscar saw the messenger depart on his errand, and having the parlor to himself and not knowing what else to do, he began pacing the floor with his hands in his pockets.

About two hours later, while he stood at the window looking out at the lowering sky and the falling rain, he saw a gig, drawn by a high-stepping horse and driven by a hearty old gentleman in greatcoat and muffler, dash into the stable-yard.

A man came up to take the horse, and the driver, alighting from his gig, bounded up the steps with all the agility of a boy and burst into the hall.

Oscar heard the landlord greet him in an undertone, and he also heard the visitor say in a stentorian voice:

"You have a gentleman of the name of Preston stopping with you, I believe?"

"Yes, sir; you'll find him in that parlor, sir," answered the obsequious landlord.

"Why, that must be the captain," thought Oscar. "I did not expect him to come out in all this rain."

The next moment the visitor's form filled the doorway.

He was a man of herculean proportions, and although his hair and mutton-chop whiskers were as white as snow, his face was the picture of robust health, and it was evident from the way he brought his feet down when he walked that he had lost little, if any, of his youthful strength and vigor.

He was a very pleasant-looking man, and Oscar was certain that when he came to know him he should like him.

The visitor looked all about the parlor, giving its solitary occupant merely a casual glance, and said as he turned to go back into the hall:

"I beg your pardon, my lad. I was looking for Mr. Preston, but he doesn't seem to be here."

"My name is Preston, sir," said Oscar. "Have I the honor to address Captain Sterling, the African hunter and explorer, and formerly of the East Indian army?"

The captain started as if Oscar had aimed a blow at him.

He looked hard at the boy for a moment or two, and said in a tone indicative of the greatest amazement and incredulity:

"Are you Oscar Preston, from America?"

"I am, sir," replied our hero.

"Did you send me some letters a little while ago?"

"I did, sir," answered the boy.

"And you have been ordered to go to—— Am I awake or dreaming?" exclaimed the captain, hastily undoing the heavy muffler that was wrapped about his face.

"I assure you that there is no mistake about it," said Oscar, who rather enjoyed the worthy captain's surprise. "I am sent here by the Yarmouth University, and have been ordered to go to Africa to procure specimens of natural history for its museum. I was instructed by some gentlemen in America, who are proud to call themselves your friends, to visit you, and I have done so in the hope that you would give me some assistance in the way of advice and information."

This little speech seemed to banish all the captain's doubts. He came into the parlor and shook Oscar's hand most cordially.

"I always knew that you Americans had more assurance than any other people in the world," said he; "but this beats me completely. Why, boy, you're crazy; and so are Mr. Adrian and all the rest of them. Help you? Of course I will! I spent some very pleasant months in America. The gentlemen it was my good fortune to meet there couldn't do too much for me, and I am glad to have the opportunity to show them that I appreciate their kindness. It has nearly ceased raining. Put on your greatcoat and go up to the lodge with me. You will be my guest while you remain in England."

"Thank you, sir," replied Oscar heartily. "What shall I do with my trunk?"

"Let it alone. I will send a cart after it as soon as we reach the lodge."

Oscar was only too glad to accept this kind invitation. The captain would certainly be very good-natured and talkative after dinner, if at no other hour of the day, and our hero told himself that that would be just the time for him to gain more light upon certain points concerning which he was now comparatively in the dark.

He hurried on his overcoat, and, after paying his bill at the hotel, took his seat in the gig, and was driven rapidly toward the lodge.

Very frequently during the ride he found the captain looking at him with an expression in which both surprise and amusement were blended, and once or twice he broke out with:

"Well, well! this does amaze me, sure! I expected to see a man."

"I hope you are not very badly disappointed," said Oscar.

"Yes, I am," replied the captain, who never hesitated to speak the thoughts that were in his mind. "You will be beset by difficulties the like of which you never dreamed of, and I don't know whether or not you have judgment enough to carry you through. But I admire your pluck. The letters you sent me say that you are a great hunter, as well as an expert taxidermist, and that you have spent some months in the hills. I, too, have hunted in that country, and I am very glad to meet one who can talk to me about the sport to be found there."

The welcome Oscar received from the captain's wife put him at his ease directly. She expressed the greatest surprise when he was introduced to her as the "American hunter," and made Oscar smile when she said, as she took both his hands in her own:

"My poor boy! Whatever could your dear mother have been thinking of when she gave her consent to this thing? Those fierce wild beasts out there in that dreadful country will eat you up at one mouthful."

Oscar found "the lodge" to be an elegant mansion, filled with costly furniture and pictures, and kept in order by a large number of servants, one of whom was directed to keep an eye on the guest and see that he did not want for anything. Every object in and about the building bore evidence of the wealth and taste of its owner.

The kennels were filled with hunting-dogs (the captain, who was an enthusiastic fox-hunter, was master of the Somerset hounds), and the stables contained more thoroughbred horses than any ordinary man could possibly have found use for.

The library was a perfect curiosity shop. The old soldier had industriously collected souvenirs of every country he had visited, and Oscar found there assegais, war clubs, skin cloaks, and elephants' tusks from Africa; buffalo and antelope heads and Indian bows and arrows from America; and the floor was covered with rugs made from the skins of the man-eating tigers that had fallen to the captain's rifle in the jungles of Hindustan.

Many of these articles were great curiosities, of course, but it was the captain's "battery" that occupied the most of Oscar's attention.

It was supported by deer's antlers that were fastened against the wall, and consisted of six double-barrelled rifles and one single rifle, carrying four bullets to the pound.

This was the captain's "elephant gun," the one with which he had secured the tusks that now adorned one of his cabinets and the rugs that covered the floor.

Besides these, there were three heavy double-barrelled shot-guns, making ten guns in all. The stocks of all of them were badly battered and scratched; some of the "grips" had been broken and mended with tin, and altogether the weapons looked as though they had received the hardest usage, as indeed they had.

As Oscar looked at them, he thought of his own modest "battery," and wondered what the old campaigner would say when he saw it.

CHAPTER VII. OFF FOR AFRICA.

Dinner was served at six o'clock in the evening. It took almost an hour to eat it, and when it had been disposed of the captain was ready for business, as Oscar thought he would be. He conducted his guest to the library, and said, as he filled and lighted his well-blackened pipe:

"Now, then, my boy, what are your plans? Be explicit, so that I may know just how I can aid you."

Oscar replied by repeating his written instructions, which he had read so often that he knew them by heart.

"All right, so far," said the captain approvingly. "Now where's your ordnance?"

"In my trunk," answered Oscar.

"In your trunk?" repeated the captain, opening his eyes and looking up at his own tried and trusted "battery" on the walls. "It must be rather smaller than mine, or else your trunk is larger than any I ever heard of. Go and get it; I want to look at it."

Oscar left the room, and presently returned with his little fowling-piece in one hand and his Sharp's rifle in the other. The captain took the double-barrel and looked critically into the muzzle of it.

"This will answer for Namaqua partridges—nothing else," said he. "By the way, those birds may prove to be the best friends you will have when you reach your hunting-grounds. If you are in want of water, and see a flock of them on the wing, note the direction in which they go and follow them, and you will be sure to find a spring. They never stray far away from water, for they must have it twice a day."

The captain handed back the double-barrel and took the rifle, looking carefully at that also, to see how large the bore was.

"This will do for spring-buck," said he; "but an eland or a wilde-beest (naturalists call it a gnu) wouldn't stop for half a dozen such balls as this weapon carries. Go and get the rest."

"These are all I have," answered Oscar.

"All!" vociferated the captain. "And do you think of going into the wilds of Africa with only two guns, and pop-guns at that? Why, you might as well commit suicide and have done with it."

"This rifle has bowled over some of the largest game in America," said Oscar. "It killed a grizzly bear with one ball as dead as if he had been struck by lightning."

"A chance shot, undoubtedly. I have killed an elephant with a single bullet, and a man-eating tiger also—the one that wore the skin on which you are standing; but such things happen only once in a lifetime."

"There was no 'chance' about my shot, sir," replied Oscar, rather proudly. "I aimed for his spine, and there was the place I hit him. It was a good shot, and it was made under the most trying circumstances. If I had missed my guide would have been torn in pieces before my eyes, and I should have been left to find my way back to civilization as best I could."

"Well, you will never go to Africa with that battery by my advice," said the captain. "In order to do good work you must have good weapons; and as your life may some time depend on the way in which they do their duty, it stands you in hand to mind what you are about. You must have at least three heavier rifles for yourself—you may lose or break one, you know—and a Martini-Henry carbine for each of your servants. We will go down to Birmingham to-morrow and get them. Now sit down and tell me about your fight with that grizzly bear."

Oscar often thought of the pleasant evening he passed in that library. The old hunter was full of stories, and every one he told contained some scraps of valuable information which Oscar treasured up in his memory for future use.

The hours flew rapidly by, and it was ten o'clock before he knew it. He began to wonder why his host did not say something about going to bed; but the latter talked as rapidly as ever, until a servant opened the door to announce that supper was ready.

Having never been accustomed to eating at that hour of the night, Oscar did not make a very hearty meal; but the captain went to work manfully, and no one would have supposed, from the way the eatables disappeared before his attacks, that he had eaten dinner only five hours before.

It was two o'clock before Oscar went to his room, and ten by his watch when he awoke.

He put on his clothes with all haste, wondering the while why somebody had not called him in time for breakfast; but when he went downstairs he learned that his host had not yet left his bed, and that breakfast would not be ready for more than an hour.

True to his promise, the captain accompanied his guest to Birmingham that afternoon, and picked out some weapons for him—three heavy breech-loading Express rifles, with interchangeable shot barrels, one ponderous muzzle-loading rifle, carrying twelve bullets to the pound, and six carbines.

Besides these there was a case of cheap muskets, which were to be used in trading for any curiosities which Oscar thought the committee would like to see in the museum.

The carbines and muskets were shipped to London, where they were to remain until Oscar was ready to start for the Cape, and the rifles he took to Somerset with him.

That evening while they were seated at the dinner-table the captain said, with as much enthusiasm as a school-boy would have exhibited:

"That much is done, and to-morrow we'll take a run up into Argyleshire. I have some intimate friends up there who are acquainted at the Cape, and in Durban, Maritzburg, Zurnst—in fact, all through the country; and from them we'll get a letter or two that will make friends for you among the Africanders. While they are writing them you and I will look over their preserves, and throw a hook into their well-stocked lakes. Sleep lightly to-night, for I warn you that I shall have you up in the morning at a most uncomfortably early hour."

When morning came Oscar found that what was called an early hour in England would have been called a very late hour in America.

He was up and dressed at five o'clock, and took himself to task for sleeping so long; but it was eight before the captain made his appearance, nine when breakfast was served, and eleven when they set out for Argyleshire.

The two succeeding days were spent in fly-fishing and "fagging after grouse," as the captain termed it.

Although our hero was not much of a fly-fisher, he was an adept at shooting on the wing, and his companions were loud in their praises of the clean and handsome manner in which he cut down his birds.

He made the acquaintance of a good many gentlemen, some of whom were old East Indian soldiers and sportsmen, and acquainted in America as well as at the Cape, and from them he received letters which proved to be of the greatest assistance to him.

Oscar thoroughly enjoyed himself during his short sojourn among the highlands, for the company into which he was thrown was most agreeable, the shooting excellent, the game being strictly preserved, and he would have been glad to remain longer, but duty called him, and he was obliged to heed the call.

On the Thursday following his arrival at the lodge he took leave of his kind hostess, and in company with the captain, who took as much interest in the matter as he would if he had been going to Africa himself, set out for London, where he spent two very busy weeks in purchasing an outfit.

The captain proved to be an invaluable assistant, and although Oscar could not see the use of half the articles he selected for him, he afterward found that there was not a single useless thing in the whole collection.

Some idea of the size of his outfit and of the money he must have spent during those two weeks may be gained when we say that he had, among a good many other heavy and bulky things, fifteen thousand rounds of ammunition—seventy-five pounds of powder, three hundred pounds of lead and as many of shot of different sizes—and that, when the outfit was boxed and ready for shipment, it weighed over eight thousand pounds.

Having secured his berth and ticket and taken a receipt from the purser, showing that his goods had been safely stowed away on board the steamer that was to take them to the Cape, Oscar took the next day to look about the city.

Eleven o'clock was the hour set for sailing, and long before that time he and the captain were seated on the steamer's deck, where all was bustle and confusion.

Porters and cabmen jostled one another, stevedores were shouting themselves hoarse in giving orders to their perspiring gangs; careless passengers were searching frantically for missing luggage, and in little retired nooks and corners, out of earshot of the gay, laughing groups around them, could be seen a wife taking a tearful leave of a husband, or a father and mother bidding a fond farewell to a son going out into the world to seek his fortune.

Presently the captain of the steamer took his stand upon the bridge, bells began to ring, and a shudder ran through the mighty craft as the donkey engines were set in motion and began the work of warping her out of her berth toward the entrance to the dock.

Captain Sterling, who was continually thinking of some important thing which he had neglected to say to his young friend, talked incessantly, all the while looking about among the passengers in the hope of finding a familiar face.

"If I could only run across just one friend for you to talk to it would shorten the voyage by a good many miles," said he; "but they are all strangers to me. However, you will not long want for company. Don't expect too much of sea-sick people. At least wait until you leave Madeira before you denounce them as a boorish, unsociable set."

At last Gravesend was reached, and there the steamer paused for a few moments to take breath and summon her strength for the run down the Channel—at least, that was what Oscar's companion said.

A hoarse voice, which sounded like the sigh of a tired nor'wester, shouted, "All ashore!" whereupon the kissing and hand-shaking between friends and relatives who were about to separate were repeated, and the passengers made a rush for the gangway.

"Good-by, my dear boy! My heart goes with you, and if I had a few years less on my shoulders I should go with you in person."

The kind-hearted old fellow's voice was husky, and there was a suspicious look about his eyes, as he took Oscar's hand in both his own, and wrung it energetically. His short acquaintance with Oscar had affected him just as the blast of a bugle affects a superannuated cavalry horse.

It had brought back the memory of old times to him so vividly that he almost fancied he was young again.

"Good-by, captain!" said Oscar, whose own voice was none of the steadiest. "I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am to you for the services you have rendered me. I could not have got along without you. How can I ever repay you for your great kindness?"

"You can do it by making a success of your expedition. I want you to do that, so that I can take some credit to myself. Don't give up; whatever happens, don't give up. I assure you I shall not forget you; and I don't want you to forget me, either. Drop me a line as often as you are within reach of a post-office. You can send me a letter every two or three weeks until you reach Zurnst. If you go beyond that place you will disappear as completely from the gaze of the civilized world as though you had ceased to live. You will see nobody except your servants, and perhaps a few wandering bushmen, who will be glad to give you a drink of water from their ostrich shells in return for a few mouthfuls of dried meat. Good-by—good-by!"

The bells rang again, the last of the visitors ran for the gang-plank, the screw began to revolve, and the huge vessel swung around until her bow pointed down the Channel. Oscar was off for Africa at last.

CHAPTER VIII. AN INCIDENT OF THE PAST.

When Gravesend had been left out of sight Oscar, for the first time since bidding adieu to his native land, began to feel lonely and homesick.

The genial captain had won a place in his heart, and he found it hard to part from him. He felt utterly helpless now that the prop on which he had leaned during the past three weeks had been taken away.

He began to realize, as he had never realized it before, that he had undertaken a journey from which many an older and more experienced person than himself would have shrunk in dismay.

"But it can't be helped," said he to himself. "I told them I would go, and it is too late to back out, even if I felt disposed to do so. If I succeed I shall be able to place nearly five thousand dollars in mother's hands. If I fail it will be nothing more than many a better fellow has done before me. But failure is something I shall not allow myself to think of. If I live I shall succeed."

During the first two days Oscar could gain no idea of the number of passengers the vessel carried.

All the female portion of her living freight—and a large share of the male portion, too—had retired to their staterooms, and given themselves up to that malady which, when it attacks a lady, is called mal de mer, and seasickness when it takes holds of a man.

Those who did not suffer in this way—among whom was Oscar—passed the time in reading, smoking, or lounging about the decks. A most unsociable lot they were, too.

Since taking leave of the captain at Gravesend Oscar had not spoken to anybody except his room-mate,—a burly Englishman,—who, instead of replying to his cheery "Good-morning, sir!" stared at him as if he were astonished at his impudence.

Oscar took the hint, and made the mental resolution that he would not speak again until he was spoken to.

The steamer stopped a short time at Dartmouth, and then turned her prow toward Madeira, which was distant five days' sail.

By this time the most of the passengers had recovered from their indisposition, and began to show themselves on deck.

The appearance of the ladies in their gay costumes made a great change in the looks of things, as well as in the conduct of the men. Pipes and books were thrown aside, little cliques were established here and there, the members of which, being drawn together by kindred tastes, were ever afterward to be seen in company, and soon Oscar was surrounded by noisy, laughing people who seemed to be enjoying themselves, but who paid no sort of attention to him.

The boy was socially inclined, but he did not dare to speak to anybody for fear of being repulsed. He might have secured friends at once by showing his letters, but that was not his way of doing things. He did not care to publish his business to the whole ship's company, for there was no one on board who could have the least possible interest in it—at least he thought so. He passed some of the time in reading, and the rest in watching the flying-fish as they arose in the air to escape the jaws of their dreaded enemies, the albecore and skip-jack.

For once the Bay of Biscay was as smooth as a mill-pond, and after a pleasant run down the coast of Portugal Madeira was reached on time.

As some hours were to be spent here, Oscar went ashore, took a look about the quaint old town, feasted on fruits, and dined sumptuously at the hotel.

When the vessel again turned her prow seaward it was for a voyage of twenty-three days. She was not to touch land again until she reached the Cape, unless she was blown ashore.

The last object of interest she passed was the Peak of Teneriffe, and when that had been left out of sight the long voyage was fairly begun.

On the second day out from Madeira Oscar became aware that he was an object of interest to a passenger whom he had not seen before since leaving Gravesend. He was a dapper little fellow, apparently about thirty years of age, with a haughty, imperious face, and long, wavy whiskers, which he stroked with an air of the greatest complacency.

He wore a gold eyeglass and the most ridiculous little skull-cap imaginable. Why he should adopt that style of head-piece under that broiling sun (they were now beginning to experience tropical weather, and the fruits they had taken on board at Madeira were most acceptable) Oscar could not imagine.

He was seated under an awning, attended by his servant, who, having just handed him an "ice" which he had brought from the bar, took his stand behind his master's chair, and awaited further orders.

The latter took a sip at his glass, and then he looked at Oscar.

"Where in the world have I seen that man before?" said the boy to himself, closing his book and fixing his eyes on a Portuguese man-o'-war which had just spread its tiny sail to the breeze. "His face is certainly familiar, but where I have—— I wonder if I didn't camp near him the second night after I left Ike Barker's ranch? I did!" said Oscar, slapping his book upon his knee. "It's Colonel Dunhaven. Hallo!"

This exclamation was called forth by the actions of the colonel and his servant, who conferred together for a few minutes, looking at Oscar all the while, and then the man left his position behind his master's chair, and came over to the boy's side of the vessel.

"Colonel Dunhaven presents his compliments, and wants to know if he can have a few words with you," said the lackey.

It was right on the point of Oscar's tongue to say that if the colonel wanted to speak to him he could come where he was, but he didn't say it. He picked up his chair, and moved over to the other side of the deck, where the colonel was sitting.

"Aw!" said the latter as Oscar placed his chair to suit him and seated himself in it, "I think I have seen you before."

(The colonel pronounced the last word as though it were spelled befoah.)

"I was thinking the same in regard to yourself," replied Oscar. "If I am not mistaken, I saw you in America last winter. You were with a party in search of buffaloes."

"Aw, I was there! Beastly country that. The common people have not the remotest idea of the propriety of things. They are altogether too independent!"

"Those plains-guides and hunters are a very independent body of men," answered Oscar; "and when one goes among them he must conform to their customs or suffer for it."

"They're a beastly lot!" said the colonel. "They don't know how to treat a gentleman. My object in asking you over here was to inquire if you secured any game during that trip."

"I did. I could have filled all your wagons, alone and unaided."

"Did you see any bison?"

"Yes," replied Oscar, "I saw thousands of them, as I told you that night; but my guide was in so great a hurry to reach the shelter of the hills that I could not stop to secure a specimen. He was afraid of being snowed up. When I returned in the spring there were none to be seen. They had all gone south."

"Well, I and my party never saw one!" exclaimed the colonel angrily. "Those treacherous guides of ours kept us out on the open plain until we were overtaken by a buzzard——"

"Blizzard," corrected Oscar.

"Aw!" said the colonel, who seemed rather surprised at the interruption. "Well, whatever the right name is, we were almost frozen, and it was only after great difficulty and terrible suffering that we got back to the little collection of shanties at Julesburg, by courtesy called a fort. Then our guides coolly informed us that if we would come out there again, and leave what they were pleased to call our airs behind us, they would show us where we could kill more game than our horses could draw away. Did you ever hear of such impertinence? I'll never go back to that country, where every boor one meets considers himself the peer of any gentleman in the land. I am now going on a sporting excursion into the interior of Africa."

As the colonel said this he assumed an air of importance, and looked at Oscar to see what he thought about it.

It was plain, too, that he was talking for the benefit of a party of ladies—who had just then come up and taken their stand under the awning—all of whom turned and looked at the colonel as these words fell on their ears.

"There's just where I am going," said Oscar quietly.

"It is?" cried the colonel, elevating his eyebrows and allowing his eyeglass to fall out of its place. "What business have you got there? Why don't you stay in your own country?"

"If I had been disposed to be impertinent, or to stick my nose into business that did not concern me, I might have asked you that question when I saw you in America hunting for the buffaloes that you never found," replied Oscar.

"Aw!" said the colonel, who saw the point. "Are you trying to chaff me?"

"No, sir. I spoke in sober earnest."

"It is very extraordinary," said the colonel, languidly accepting his eyeglass, which his servant hastened to pick up and restore to him. "How are you going? I am going alone with my own establishment, which I shall purchase at Durban."

"I am going in the same way," answered Oscar.

"Aw! But I have had experience, my dear fellow, and you have not," said the colonel. "I once belonged to the Honorable East India Company's service, and have hunted tigers in the wilds of Hindustan—tigers, do you hear?"

"And I have hunted grizzly bears in the foot-hills of the Rocky Mountains," replied Oscar, who could scarcely refrain from laughing.

"But a bear is not to be compared to a tiger in strength and ferocity, you know, young fellow."

"I am not so sure of that. If you are at all posted, you must know that some naturalists contend that if the grizzly was allotted his proper place in the animal kingdom he would be called the king of beasts instead of the lion."

"It's all the merest nonsense. Why, an old army officer—a college chum of mine—once told me that he had seen a lion trot off with a good-sized heifer in his mouth, carrying it as easily as a cat carries a rat!"

"I don't doubt it; but the bear family do not carry their prey as the felidæ do. They drag it along the ground if it is heavy, or carry it between their paws if it is light. My guide told me that he had seen a grizzly weighing a thousand pounds drag a buffalo weighing eighteen hundred a distance of two miles."

"Aw! he was guilty of the most barefaced mendacity! Another ice, Roberts, and then I will retire to my stateroom."

This was a hint that the colonel desired the interview brought to a close, so Oscar picked up his chair and walked away.

"He will never have a chance to repeat that," thought the boy, while his face burned with indignation. "The next time he wants to see me he can come where I am. So Big Thompson was guilty of lying, was he? I am of the opinion that there would not be much left of you, my fine gentleman, if he had heard you say so."

The colonel did not trouble him any more, and Oscar was glad of it. He seemed to be a thoroughly selfish as well as a very conceited person, and the boy wanted nothing to do with him.

Still he did not lack for company. The passengers began to inquire who that modest young fellow was who always kept by himself, and seemed to be acquainted with no one on board, and one day the captain, prompted by curiosity, entered into conversation with him, during which he heard some things that made him wonder.

The name of Captain Sterling proved to be an "open sesame," for every passenger on board had heard of that celebrated hunter and traveller, although none of them were personally acquainted with him.

But his name was full of influence. It secured Oscar a seat at the captain's table, and brought him to the notice of a select circle, who never grew weary of listening to what the boy had to say regarding the plains and their inhabitants.

The time never hung heavily on Oscar's hands after that. The days were spent on deck in social converse, and the evenings in the cabin, listening to lectures and singing, or in witnessing amateur theatricals.

The colonel looked on in surprise, but made no effort to renew his acquaintance with Oscar. He was afraid the latter might offer to accompany him on his hunting expedition.

At last, much to the regret of Oscar, who wished that the voyage might be indefinitely prolonged, Table Mountain came into view. As there was no table-cloth on it, the vessel moved into the harbor, and in a few hours was safely moored to the wharf.

CHAPTER IX. OSCAR MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.

As Oscar's freight was all booked for Cape Town, it was necessary that it should go through the custom-house before it could be reshipped on the Ivanhoe, the little coasting steamer that was to convey the young hunter and his outfit to Port Natal.

In superintending this transfer Oscar was kept busy, for he was on deck from the time his goods were taken out of the steamer's hold until the Ivanhoe's hatches were closed over them.

Then he secured his bunk on board the coasting vessel, and, being free from care and anxiety, was at liberty to accept some of the numerous invitations he had received from those of the steamer's passengers who called Cape Town their home.

He dined with one, ate an eleven o'clock supper with another, and at three in the morning was sleeping soundly in his bunk, while the Ivanhoe was skimming over a dark and threatening sea, with a lowering sky above her, and a strong southerly gale howling through her rigging. But the day dawned bright and clear, and at an early hour Oscar was on deck.

The change from the roomy deck of the steamship to his cramped quarters on board the coasting vessel was not a pleasant one, and neither were his fellow-passengers as agreeable as those of whom he had just taken leave, and in whose company he had passed so many happy hours.

They were a boisterous, good-natured crowd, and acted more like Western men than any he had before met on that side of the Atlantic.

The most of them were roughly dressed, and some carried riding-whips in their hands. They did not seem to be very favorably impressed with the appearance of Colonel Dunhaven (who came on deck about midday, languid and sleepy-looking as usual), for the remarks they made concerning him, some of which he must have overheard, were anything but complimentary.

The colonel looked at Oscar through his eyeglass, but did not seem to recognize him.

"That man has certainly mistaken his calling," thought Oscar as he leaned on the rail and looked down into the water. "He hasn't energy enough to carry him through. If he is so helpless now that he has to have a man to wait on him continually, what will he do when he starts on his journey? He would look nice swinging a heavy ox-whip and wading about in mud, knee-deep, wouldn't he?"

The Ivanhoe came to anchor twice before reaching her destination—once at Port Elizabeth, where some of the passengers who were bound for the diamond fields left her, and the next time at East London.

The captain made all haste to transact his business at the latter town, for the open roadstead in which his vessel was anchored was a dangerous place.

Although there was scarcely any wind stirring, and the sea was comparatively smooth, the surf rolled wildly on the beach, and it was a mystery to Oscar how the boats ever got through it.

Besides, there was a suspicious-looking bank of clouds off in the southern horizon, of which the captain and his mates kept close watch.

There was wind in those clouds, but it did not touch the Ivanhoe. She reached Port Natal in safety, and Oscar made all haste to get ashore, his long sea-voyage being happily ended.

He had accomplished the easiest part of his undertaking. Perils, privations, and discouragements were yet to come.

The next day Oscar handed an invoice of his goods to the custom-house officers, and having obtained a permit to land his guns, and seen all his boxes and bales put safely under lock and key, he took his seat in a post-cart, and, in company with the colonel, his body-servant, and two other passengers, was whirled away toward the town of Durban, which lay three miles inland from Port Natal.

Here he was to deliver two of his letters of introduction, which were addressed to Mr. Morgan, the editor of the leading newspaper.

As it was late in the afternoon, he decided to wait until the next morning before he sought out Mr. Morgan.

Having registered his name, and seen his trunk carried to his room, he walked out on the porch, where he was accosted by a "horsey" looking individual, who held a riding-whip in his hand.

Oscar had caught a momentary glimpse of the man when he alighted from the post-cart, and knew, as soon as he laid his eyes upon him, that he belonged to a class with whom Captain Sterling had frequently and earnestly warned him to have nothing to do.

He was a cattle-dealer and speculator—a human shark, who profited by the misfortunes of others.

His first words indicated that he had been looking at the register.

"You're from America, I believe," said he with easy familiarity.

Oscar replied that he was.

"Big nation that, and fine people in it, too. Going up the country?"

"I think some of it," Oscar replied.

"Are you going far up?" asked the man.

"Beyond Zurnst, probably; that is, if I can get there," replied Oscar, taking possession of a chair, and depositing his feet on the railing.

The man opened his eyes and began to look earnest. He ascended the steps, and, taking up a chair, seated himself by the boy's side.

"Are you a clerk?" was his next question.

"No, I'm not a clerk."

"Sportsman, then, most likely?"

"In a small way."

"Then I am just the man you want to see," said the cattle-dealer. "You'll need a wagon, a span of oxen, half a dozen salted horses, and a big lot of supplies."

Oscar said he knew that.

"Well, it's my business to furnish those things to gentlemen who are going up the country, and I will fit you out in good shape without the least trouble to yourself. I have a good, strong wagon—the best in the country—with canvas tent and all complete."

"What is it worth?" asked Oscar.

"A hundred and twenty-five pounds."

"How much do you ask for your oxen?"

"Fifteen pounds apiece."

"Got any salted horses?"

"Plenty of them, and they are worth a hundred each. They are fine runners and good, steady hunters, used to elephants, lions, buffalo, and all that sort of game. You'll be wanting dogs, too," said the man, who began to think he had struck a gold mine.

"Yes; but I don't expect to pay much for them."

"Oh, you'll have to if you get good hunters! You want experienced and well-broken dogs, of course, for green ones would run away the moment they caught sight of big game, and leave you to shift for yourself. Suppose you come over and take a look at that fine outfit."

"I don't believe I care to bother with it to-day. There is no use in rushing things, and I want to rest this afternoon."

"There's no time like the present," said the cattle-dealer earnestly. "Somebody may get the start of you if you don't close the bargain at once, for of course I shall sell to the first man who will give me my price."

"All right," replied Oscar indifferently; "sell if you get the chance. I suppose there is more than one outfit to be had in Durban."

"No, there isn't. Mine is the only good one there is left. It is true there are some rattletrap wagons and broken-down oxen to be had at high prices, but no gentleman would be seen riding after such a turnout. Why, even the Hottentots would laugh at him. Besides," added the man, speaking in a low, confidential tone, "there are a good many swindlers here."

Oscar said he knew that, too.

"They'll sell you a patched-up and freshly painted wagon for a new one, and for salted horses they'll offer you green ones, that have never been further up the country than Maritzburg. If you will take my advice you will come and secure that bargain now."

Just then voices sounded in the hall, and Colonel Dunhaven came out, accompanied by three or four cattle-dealers, the indefatigable body-servant bringing up the rear.

As they passed down the steps Oscar caught enough of their conversation to satisfy him that the colonel had been successfully "roped in."

"There," exclaimed Oscar's companion, "your friend is caught! Those men are all swindlers, and they will cheat him out of his eye-teeth."

"He's no friend of mine," said Oscar.

"Why, you came up in the same post-cart, and went into the hotel together."

"That may be; but still he is not my friend. I am alone."

"You are?" exclaimed the cattle-dealer, who was really astonished. "Do you mean to say that you are going so far up the country all by yourself? You can't do it. You will need a first-class man for a companion and adviser. I know one—a brave fellow, a splendid rider, and a dead shot—who will be glad to go with you. I'll engage him if you say so."

"Not to-day," answered Oscar. "I shall need all the things of which you have spoken, but I say again that I'm in no hurry to get them."

"Well, think over what I have said, and let me know what you conclude to do, will you?" said the man, rising from his chair.

He was growing uneasy. Some of his friends had caught a pigeon that they were going to pluck, and he wanted to have a hand in the proceeding.

"Yes," said Oscar; "I'll think of it."

"All right. Remember that that is a promise between gentlemen, and that I am to have the first chance."

"Gentlemen!" thought Oscar as the cattle-dealer sprang down the steps and walked rapidly in the direction in which his friends had gone with the colonel. "I wonder if he calls himself one? My friend Dunhaven has put his foot in it, sure! I wonder that he doesn't go to some of his countrymen here who are experienced, and ask them to assist him in selecting an outfit."

If Oscar had been better acquainted with the colonel he would not have wondered at it at all.

That gentleman cherished the same opinion now that he did while he was fooling about on the plains. He thought he was fully posted in everything relating to hunting and travelling, and his insufferable egotism and self-conceit would not permit him to ask advice of anybody.

But a few days' experience with unruly cattle, saucy drivers, bad roads, and African treachery changed all this, and he was glad to accept favors at the hands of the boy he had so unmercifully snubbed.

The next morning Oscar despatched a messenger to Mr. Morgan's office with his letters of introduction, and a note similar to the one he had written to Captain Sterling.

Half an hour later the editor answered that note in person. He was profoundly astonished when he saw Oscar, and like everybody else who knew what object he had in view in coming to Africa, gave it as his opinion that our hero was altogether too young in years to engage in any such hazardous enterprise.

But he received him very cordially. He ordered Oscar's trunk to be taken to his house, then led him away to his office.

After conversing with him for an hour or more, and drawing from him all his plans and a short history of his former exploits, Mr. Morgan said:

"You seem to be very confident, my lad, and I glory in your unalterable determination to go through in spite of every difficulty. You are the first American who has ever come here on an expedition of this kind. You would have the hardest kind of work before you even if everybody felt friendly toward you and was willing to lend you a helping hand; but, unfortunately, such is not the case. You will find treachery on all sides of you so long as you remain in the settlement. To begin with, steer clear of all cattle-dealers. Don't let one of them approach you."

"I have already been approached by one of them, who assured me that he had the only serviceable outfit that was to be found in Durban," replied Oscar.

"You didn't buy it?" cried the editor.

"No, sir! Captain Sterling told me to look out for them," said Oscar, who then went on to tell of his interview with the cattle-dealer.

"What sort of looking fellow was he?"

The boy described him.

"That's Barlow," said Mr. Morgan. "He and the most of the gang he runs with live in Maritzburg, and bigger scoundrels never went unhanged."

Oscar thought of the colonel, and made the mental resolution that he would warn him against the cattle-dealers as soon as he could find opportunity to go back to the hotel.

CHAPTER X. A BAFFLED SWINDLER.

"Those cattle-dealers are good men to let alone," continued Mr. Morgan. "They want money, and they are not very particular where or how they get it, so long as they get it. They make it a business to do all they can to prevent every traveller from getting beyond the limits of the colony. They will sell you a span of broken-down oxen and a rickety old wagon, charging exorbitant prices for the same, and provide you with servants who are too lazy to earn the salt they eat on their meat. These men are in the pay of the cattle-dealers, and are expected to do everything in their power to discourage you. If they find that you are resolved to go on, they will pound your cattle until they get rusty and refuse to draw the wagon. They will drive you into an ant-bear's hole, and break an axle or smash a wheel by running over a rock they might easily have avoided. The town hill, on the other side of Maritzburg, has proved to be an insurmountable barrier to many a would-be sportsman. Just about the time he reached the steepest ascent smash would go the trek-tow, and an examination would reveal the fact that one of the links had been cut half in two. As you are an American, they will be particularly hard on you; and I warn you that eternal vigilance is the price you must pay for your success."

"Captain Sterling told me that," said Oscar. "He also informed me that the object of these swindlers is to disgust the traveller, so that he will sell off his supplies and outfit at a sacrifice."

"That's just it," replied the editor. "Even the men of whom you purchase your oxen, wagon, and goods will set to work to defeat you in order that they may buy the things back for less than they sold them for. My advice to you is to buy your oxen and supplies in Maritzburg. They are much cheaper there than they are here, and by doing that you will save hauling over a road which just now is in a pretty bad condition, owing to the recent heavy rains. I will give you letters to my friends Donahue and McElroy, who, at my request, will aid you in every way they can and see that you are not imposed upon."

Oscar thanked the editor, and remarked that friends in England had given him letters to these same gentlemen.

"That's all right; but a little additional note from me will not hurt anything," said Mr. Morgan. "You had better buy a wagon here. I know where you can get an excellent one for a hundred and ten pounds, and that includes dissel-boom, trek-tow, yokes, water-butts, fore- and after-chests, and canvas tent."

"That is about seventy-five dollars less than Barlow wants for his wagon," observed Oscar.

"And it is a better one, too," said Mr. Morgan, after he had made a mental calculation to find out how many pounds there were in seventy-five dollars. "I have seen that wagon of his, and I will wager fifty pounds against a shilling that you would never get over Maritzburg Hill with it, to say nothing of the Drackenburg, which is as much worse than any hill you ever saw as you can imagine."

"What are oxen worth in Maritzburg?"

"About ten pounds."

"Then Barlow wants to cheat me out of about $375 and intends to furnish me with a poor outfit into the bargain," said Oscar. "That money might as well stay in my pocket as to go into his."

"Better—much better!" the editor hastened to reply. "Now, if you will excuse me for a while, I will get through with my morning's work, and then we will go and see that wagon. Come in again in an hour, and you will find me quite at your service."

Oscar left the editorial sanctum and went out on the street. He easily found his way back to the hotel, and there he saw Colonel Dunhaven and his servant, surrounded by the same cattle-dealers he had seen in their company the day before.

The swindlers were determined that their prey should not escape them. As he ascended the steps the Englishman and his servant went into the parlor.

"Hello, there!" cried a voice. "Are you ready to keep your promise now?"

Oscar looked up and saw Barlow approaching.

"I have been looking for you all the morning," he said. "Where have you been?"

Oscar was not aware that that was any of Barlow's business, so he made no reply.

"Are you ready to keep your promise now?" repeated the cattle-dealer.

"What promise?"

"Why, to come over and buy that outfit I am going to sell you. It's all here, but the supplies we'll have to get up at Maritzburg."

"I didn't promise to buy any outfit of you," said Oscar.

"You didn't?" cried the cattle-dealer. "Did I not say to you, the last thing before I left you yesterday, 'Remember that that is a promise between gentlemen, and that I am to have the first chance'?"

"You did. And what did I say?"

"You said you would take it."

"You are mistaken. You asked me to think it over, and I told you I would do so."

"What conclusion have you come to?"

"That I don't want any of your things. I can do better."

"Hello! Here's a go. Come, now, that won't go down. It might with some folks, but not with me," said Barlow in a threatening tone. "I have bought six salted horses for you—they cost me a hundred and ten pounds apiece, but I told you that you could have them for a hundred, and I am a man of my word—and hired nine servants for you. I have also engaged that friend of mine of whom I told you, and he is all ready to inspan, and go down to Port Natal after your guns and other truck, just as soon as you give me the stumpy down. Cash in hand was the agreement, you know. Here's the bill, itemized and receipted—all regular," added the cattle-dealer as he drew a folded paper from his pocket, and made an effort to put it into the boy's hand.

"I don't want to see it," said Oscar, who was fairly staggered by the man's effrontery. "You must think I have taken leave of my senses. Do you suppose that I would purchase an expensive outfit without seeing it?"

"I told you it was the best in the colony, and you took my word for it and agreed to buy it."

"I did nothing of the kind! I tell you now that I will not take it!"

"Here is a go, sure enough!" exclaimed Barlow. "What shall I do with these six salted horses?"

"I don't care what you do with them."

"And what shall I say to my friend and to the servants I engaged for you?"

"That is a matter in which I am not interested. If you engaged them at all you did so without any authority from me."

"Come, now," said the cattle-dealer, slapping the folded paper into his open palm, "take the outfit, and I'll knock off half the hundred pounds I have charged you for my services and call it fifty. Can anything be fairer than that? Come, now."

"A hundred pounds!" cried Oscar. "Do you pretend to say that you've done nearly five hundred dollars' worth of work since yesterday afternoon?"

"I don't know anything about your dollars; but I told you I would fit you out, fair and square, without any trouble to yourself, and I have kept my word, as I always do. Of course I expect to be paid for doing it, and a hundred pounds is the regular price."

"You'll not get it out of me."

"Well, then, I'll have you up before the justice for breach of contract!" exclaimed Barlow fiercely.

"Do so, and we will see how much you will make out of it. Be good enough to let me pass."

He brushed by the cattle-dealer as he spoke, and once more started toward Mr. Morgan's office, but before he had made many steps Barlow overtook him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Look here, my fine Yankee lad," said he between his clenched teeth, "you had best make a friend of me. I have known more than one traveller to break down before he got over the town hill."

"I know what you mean by that," replied Oscar; "but you had better be careful how you try any tricks on me. If you think you can bluff me into buying a wagon that is ready to fall to pieces, and a team of worthless oxen, you have reckoned without your host. You picked me up for a greenhorn, but I know more than you think I do. Now from this time forward I want you to keep away from me. I shall have nothing more to do with you."

So saying, Oscar walked on again, leaving the baffled swindler alone with his disappointment.

The latter followed him with his eye and looked down at the bill he held in his hand.

"You won't have anything more to do with me, won't you?" said he between his clenched teeth. "Well, then, I shall have something to do with you. You haven't got out of the colony yet, and never will."

If Oscar could have seen the expression Barlow's face wore as he thrust the bill into his pocket and hurried down the street he would have needed no other evidence to satisfy him that Mr. Morgan knew what he was talking about when he said that eternal vigilance was the price the young hunter must pay to make his expedition successful.

CHAPTER XI. OSCAR COMPLETES HIS OUTFIT.

That Barlow was very angry over his failure to compel Oscar to purchase his outfit and supplies of him at the prices he set upon them was evident from the manner in which he ground his teeth and shook his fists in the air as he strode rapidly along.

He walked the whole length of the principal street, and finally turned toward a dilapidated Kaffir kraal, in the open door of which sat a young man, smoking a dingy pipe and watching a span of oxen that were feeding close at hand.

This was the "friend" of whose varied accomplishments as a hunter the cattle-dealer had spoken in terms so flattering; but if Oscar could have seen him he would have thought twice before consenting to take him as a companion on a long and perilous journey.

His appearance was against him. His face bore the traces of recent dissipation, and there was a swaggering, rowdyish air about him that would not have suited Oscar at all.

Close beside the kraal was the wagon that Barlow had tried so hard to force upon our hero, and a most disreputable affair it was. It had been newly painted, to conceal some of the numerous injuries it had received during the long years it had been in service; the dissel-boom and both the axle-trees were strengthened with strips of raw-hide; the canvas tent was torn and patched in a dozen places, and the chests and water-butts looked as though they were about to fall to pieces.

The oxen feeding close by, and which were a part of "the best outfit to be had in the colony," were a fit team for such a wagon as this, for they were in strict keeping with it.

A more forlorn and vicious-looking lot of brutes it would have been hard to find anywhere. The whole concern was not worth half the money Barlow had demanded for the wagon alone.

"Well, Thomas," said the cattle-dealer as soon as he came within speaking distance of his friend, "that little game is blocked."

Thomas uttered a rough exclamation and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. He looked disappointed as well as angry.

It was plain that these two worthies had hoped to make something handsome out of Oscar.

"Yes," continued Barlow, "it's blocked. I had thought to rope him in very easy, but he's much too knowing."

"I didn't expect any of the time that you could do anything with him," growled Thomas. "They say that those fellows from the other side the pond are awful sharp, and cut their eye-teeth early."

"And aren't we sharp, too, I'd like to know?" demanded Barlow. "He hasn't got out of the colony yet. I told him that I had seen more than one traveller break down before he got over the town hill, and we must see to it that he breaks down, too. Understand?"

"I think I do," answered Thomas, with a grin.

Thrusting his hand into the inside pocket of his coat, he took out a well-worn wallet and produced from it something that looked like a watch-spring.

"The teeth are pretty small, but they have cut through a heap of iron," said he, drawing the spring out to its full length.

"If you can give them a chance to cut into the Yankee's trek-tow it will be the best job they ever did for us," said Barlow. "If he buys his oxen and wagons of the farmers, and his supplies at Maritzburg, his outfit will be a splendid one, and breaking him down will be as good as finding a new diamond field. We're going to see fun in a few days. There's another chap in town—a colonel of something or other—who has been taken in hand by Harris and the rest of the boys. They have sold him a wagon and a span of oxen at a good price, and contracted to furnish him with supplies here in Durban. They have hired the right kind of men for him, and when he tries to climb the town hill he'll find himself in a fix. Won't they bleed him, though! I might have made a few pounds out of him," added the cattle-dealer, with a long-drawn sigh, "but I didn't bother with him, for I was sure I could manage this Yankee boy to suit me. No matter; he isn't out of our reach yet, and we'll make him open his eyes."

Meanwhile Oscar, all unconscious of the plans that were being laid against him, returned to Mr. Morgan's office, and reported the result of his interview with the cattle-dealer.

"Wouldn't it be a good plan for you to say a word to the colonel?" he asked, after he had told where and when he first met that gentleman. "You are a countryman of his, and might have some influence with him."

"I'll not go near him. He's a snob. His men will smash his wagon if they can't discourage him in any other way, and then desert him. You see if they don't. Now we will go to lunch, and after that we will ride out into the country to see a man who will sell you a wagon worth your money. He will sell you a span of oxen, too, but I would not advise you to buy of him,—and neither will he,—for you can do much better in Maritzburg."

When Oscar went to bed that night he was the owner of a ponderous Cape wagon, entirely new, and two salted horses, all of which had cost him £310.

He had taken a cordial leave of the editor, after thanking him for his advice and for the interest he had taken in the affairs of one who was an entire stranger to him, and at daylight the next morning seated himself in a post-cart and was driven rapidly toward Maritzburg.

He had also bargained with the farmer of whom he purchased his wagon and horses to haul his goods up from Port Natal.

With Mr. Morgan's aid he had secured a small pack of mongrel dogs, deerhounds, greyhounds, pointers, and curs, which was to be brought up with the wagon.

While on the way to Maritzburg Oscar saw something that made him think of his double-barrel, that was stowed away in his trunk under the seat. It was a flock of white-necked ravens. They sat on the trees by the roadside, and showed no signs of alarm as the post-cart dashed by so close to them that the driver could have touched them with his whip if he had made the attempt.

Oscar looked closely at them, noting the attitude of their bodies and the position in which their heads were held, so that he would know how to set up his specimens after he had shot them.

No sooner had Oscar reached his destination than he was surrounded by a new gang of cattle-dealers, who, having learned that he was going up the country, insisted on selling him an outfit.

But the boy dismissed them in the most unceremonious manner, and lost no time in hunting up Judge Donahue and Mr. McElroy.

These gentlemen received him with the greatest courtesy, and were untiring in their efforts to assist him. They superintended the buying of his provisions, hired for him men who they knew could be trusted, and selected a span of oxen which looked very unlike the one Barlow wanted to sell him.

His driver and fore-loper were Hottentots; his "boss"—who was also the interpreter and man-of-all-work—was a Kaffir, who spoke English well enough to make himself understood; and his cook was an Irishman, with a rich brogue and an inexhaustible fund of humor.

The Hottentots and Kaffir were engaged to go with Oscar wherever he went, and to return with him to Maritzburg; while the Irishman was to go no further than Leichtberg, in the Transvaal, where he expected to find relatives.

Paddy O'Brian was a genuine son of the Old Sod. He wore velveteen knee-breeches, long stockings, and hob-nail shoes, and carried all his worldly possessions tied up in a handkerchief, which, when travelling, he slung over his shoulder, on the end of a blackthorn stick that he had used in more than one faction fight.

He had never seen any animal more to be dreaded than a pugnacious billy-goat, and had never handled a gun, but he had for several months officiated as cook in the family of Judge Donahue, who recommended him as an honest, painstaking man, and one who would not let a hungry sportsman starve while waiting for his dinner.

He excited Oscar's mirth every hour in the day, especially when he addressed him as "me lord."

Although Paddy had kissed the blarney stone, there was no blarney about this. He thought that every man who came to Africa to hunt must of necessity be an English nobleman, for he did not believe that anybody else had money to spend in that way.

The offer of ten pounds for the faithful performance of his duties as cook almost took his breath away.

While Oscar was engaged in making ready for his departure two interesting incidents happened.

The first was the arrival of Barlow and his man Thomas, both of whom lived in Maritzburg. They came seated in their rattletrap of a wagon, and drawn by their span of crow-bait oxen, which acted all the time as if they were on the lookout for an excuse to become "rusty."

The driver's arms must have ached, for he was compelled to belabor them continually in order to keep them in motion.

Barlow and his man were not long in finding out how things were going, and when they saw Oscar's outfit, which was fully as expensive and as complete in all its details as any they had ever seen before, they became all the more determined that they would compel him to sell out, so that they could purchase it for a mere tithe of its value.

But they did not know how wary and resolute a boy they had to deal with.

Acting upon Judge Donahue's advice, Oscar put his oxen and horses into the pound every night, and taking Paddy O'Brian into his confidence, ordered him to sleep in the wagon.

Paddy, being always ready for a row, willingly complied, and it would have given him the greatest pleasure to break the head of anybody who ventured to tamper with that vehicle or its cargo.

One thing that amused Oscar exceedingly was the perseverance exhibited by his landlord in trying to "pump" him and his servants; but he got no satisfaction.

Oscar would not talk about his private affairs, and his men could not, for they knew nothing about them.

In fact, no one knew much about him or his business except the few gentlemen to whom he had been introduced, and he was looked upon by "outsiders" as a very mysterious person.

The other interesting incident of which we have spoken was the arrival of Colonel Dunhaven, who came in grand style, riding a fine horse, and closely followed by his body-servant, who rode another equally as good.

He had fared better at the hands of the cattle-dealers, so far as the appearance of his outfit was concerned, than Oscar thought he would.

His cattle, although they were not to be compared to Oscar's slick Zulus, were in a tolerably fair condition.

His wagon was a very good one, and he had servants enough for half a dozen hunters; but his head man looked too much like Thomas to be trusted.

The colonel galloped up to the porch, threw his reins to Roberts, and went into the hotel.

CHAPTER XII. OSCAR SEES A CHANCE TO GET EVEN.

When Oscar arose the next morning and looked down into the stable-yard he saw that it was empty. The colonel's wagon had gone on toward Howick, and the colonel himself was in the parlor eating an early breakfast, preparatory to following it on horseback.

A glance at his own wagon, which stood in front of the supply store, on the other side of the street, showed him that the cattle-dealers were out in full force, and that those he had seen loitering about the hotel ever since he arrived there had been joined by Harris and the rest of the "boys" who had supplied Colonel Dunhaven with his outfit.

The sight of them did not trouble him, however, for Paddy O'Brian was sitting on the dissel-boom, with his stick in his hand, and the dogs were lying under the wagon.

"That would be a bad crowd for those rascals to meddle with," thought Oscar as he put on his clothes. "Paddy looks as though he could handle two or three ordinary men, and I am certain that there are some dogs in that pack that would just as soon take hold of a fellow as to let him alone. Indeed, I am afraid of them myself. There he goes!" added the young hunter as the colonel and his servant rode away from the hotel steps, neither of them paying the least attention to the boisterous farewells that were shouted at them by the cattle-dealers across the street. "I shall expect to hear from him in the course of two or three days."

Oscar heard from the colonel in less than one day—that very afternoon, in fact. While he was seated in the parlor he heard a heavy step in the barroom, and Barlow's voice addressing the landlord.

"That's one smash-up," said the cattle-dealer in a tone of exultation. "Harris and the rest of 'em worked it pretty slick on that English snob."

"What has happened?" inquired Mr. Dibbits.

"Trek-tow broke—that's all; and the colonel is up to the blacksmith shop getting it repaired, and swearing about the beastly hills we have here in Africa. I say, old fellow, we must break up that little Yankee in some way. He's got a splendid outfit, everything top-notch, and there's a pile of money in it if we can only make him sell out. Harris tried to bribe that Irishman of his to leave the wagon, but Paddy told him to hold his jaw and wouldn't stir a step."

Barlow went out, and Oscar laid down his pen and walked to the window. His wagon, fully loaded and ready for the start, had been backed under one of the sheds, and Paddy O'Brian sat at his ease on the dissel-boom, puffing at a short pipe, and blowing the smoke into the eyes and nostrils of the dogs whenever they showed a disposition to become too familiar. Oscar raised the window and called to him.

"Take off your caubeen, if that's what you call it in Irish," said he. "I've got something for you."

Paddy doffed his hat, and his employer tossed a couple of sovereigns into it.

"That isn't to be taken out of your wages, Paddy," Oscar explained. "It is a present from me. You may want to buy something for yourself or your sweetheart before we start. Judge Donahue tells me you have a sweetheart."

"Long life to your honor!" cried the Irishman as soon as he had recovered from his surprise.

"That is to reward you for being faithful to your trust," continued Oscar. "You see you didn't lose anything by refusing to take the bribe Harris offered you this morning."

Paddy began to understand the matter now. He backed away from the window, and, looking through the gateway, saw the man who had tried to bribe him passing along the street.

"There he is overbeyont. Say the worrud, your honor, an' I'll go an' bate him."

"No, no!" said Oscar quickly. "That would never do. The way for you to beat him is to keep a close watch over the wagon. Don't allow a stranger to go near it."

"Bedad, I won't, then," said Paddy.

He went back to the shed, and Oscar closed the window, but stood looking through it, watching the motions of his faithful servitor.

The latter took the money out of his hat, jingled it in his closed hands, and finally put it carefully away in his pocket. Then he jumped up and executed a wild Irish war-dance, at the same time whirling his stick viciously in the air and uttering suppressed whoops.

"The only thing that man needs now to make him supremely happy is a head to crack," thought Oscar as he went back to his writing. "I don't think it would be quite safe for anybody to make another attempt to bribe him."

Having completed and mailed his letters, Oscar went about his unfinished business, feeling perfectly satisfied that the care of his outfit had been committed to trusty hands.

Two or three times during the afternoon and evening he heard from Colonel Dunhaven through Judge Donahue, who told him that the man who knew so much about travelling in Africa that he would not ask advice of anybody was having an exceedingly hard time of it.

His oxen, after breaking the trek-tow faster than the blacksmith could mend it, had at last turned "rusty" and run the wagon into an ant-bear's hole, in which it was so hopelessly "stalled" that it would take an extra span of oxen to draw it out.

"But even if he finds anybody who is accommodating enough to haul him out on hard ground, he will not be any better off than he is now," added the judge. "His whole rigging has been sawed into, and if the town hill does not prove to be an obstacle he cannot get over, the Drackenberg will."

The next morning Oscar dressed himself in one of the moleskin suits he had purchased in England and packed his trunk, which was stowed away in the wagon.

He had ordered his driver to start for Howick at an early hour, and when he went downstairs he found everything in readiness for inspanning as soon as the oxen were brought from the pound.

His interpreter and the two Hottentots had gone after them. Paddy O'Brian occupied his usual seat on the dissel-boom, twirling his stick in one hand and holding fast to a saddled horse with the other. Oscar opened the window and Paddy got upon his feet.

"Good-morning to your honor!" he exclaimed. "An' can I go now, I dunno?"

"Yes, go on," answered Oscar. "But be sure and join the wagon when you hear it go by the house."

Paddy got into the saddle and rode off to pay his last visit to his sweetheart, and to present her with a few trifles he had purchased with the two sovereigns he had earned by his devotion to duty.

Barlow, who was always on the watch, saw him ride out of the gate, and, believing that the wagon was left unguarded, made all haste to send his man Thomas into the stable-yard to operate on the trek-tow with his saw. But Oscar, who was on the watch, detected him in the act, and defeated his plans, as we have already described.

While the boy stood at the window Colonel Dunhaven, utterly disgusted with his short experience of African life, came into the room, and after using some pretty strong language regarding the country and Oscar's business in it, began to talk of selling out and going home.

Our hero had a long conversation with him, and during its progress the colonel was amazed to learn that the humble American youth had brought with him letters from some of the best known men in England.

Then his icy reserve melted, and he was as affable as one could wish; but he did not succeed in working his way into Oscar's good graces. It was too late. The boy, as we have said, had seen quite enough of him.

"When I saw you with those cattle-dealers in Durban I knew that you were going to be cheated," said Oscar as he and the colonel seated themselves. "I tried to make you understand it, but you told me, in effect, that it was none of my business. One of those men behind us tried to force a most inferior outfit on me, and threatened to prosecute me because I declined to be imposed upon. Did you examine your trek-tow to see if anybody had been fooling with it?"

"No," said the colonel in surprise.

"You ought to have done so. I know that you are a victim of treachery."

"I know that, also. Didn't I tell you that my servants had deserted me, and that my cattle and horses had been allowed to stray away?"

"The men from whom you purchased your outfit are responsible for all that. They intend to keep you here if they possibly can."

"And for what purpose, pray?" asked the colonel, still more astonished.

"They want to force you to sell your goods back to them for a good deal less than you gave for them. I know what I am talking about, for I have heard stories of their villainy told by a dozen different gentlemen who are acquainted with their way of doing business."

Just at that moment, as if to corroborate these words, Barlow approached and laid his hand familiarly on the colonel's shoulder.

The surprised Englishman quickly brought his eyeglass to a focus and stared up at him as if he meant to annihilate him by his angry glances.

"Fellow!" he vociferated, promptly shaking off the cattle-dealer's hand.

"No offence, sir," said Barlow, who, having an eye to prospective profits, could not afford to make the colonel angry. "I heard you say something just now about selling out."

"And if I did speak of it what's that to you, I would like to know?" demanded the colonel angrily.

"It is just this much to me," answered Barlow in his free-and-easy way. "If you want to sell out I am the man you are looking for. I want a rig just like yours, and a wagon-load of supplies; and if you are open for a bargain I will make you an offer now, and pay you cash in hand."

"I decline to exchange any more words with you," said the colonel.

"Well, think it over, then, will you, and let me know what you decide to do. Remember, I want the first chance."

The Englishman made no reply. He turned his back to the cattle-dealer, and, taking off his eyeglass, thrust it into his pocket with a rather vicious movement.

"What did I tell you?" said Oscar when Barlow had gone back to his companions at the bar. "That man is probably working for the ones of whom you bought your outfit. They are all in league, and don't mean to let you get over the town hill if they can help it."

"I don't see how you have escaped their persecutions," said the colonel.

"I haven't escaped them altogether. I saw a man in the act of cutting into one of the links of my trek-tow just now, but when I went out to catch him the landlord, or some other friend of his, warned him, and he got safely off. He did the chain no damage, however, for I gave him no time. I bought a good outfit all through—and I'll warrant it didn't cost me as much money as you paid for yours—and after I got it I kept watch over it night and day."

"I don't know what to do," said the colonel, looking down at the floor in a brown study. "My wagon is in a terrible fix, but I don't like to give up."

"I wouldn't give up," said Oscar promptly. "If I were in your place, I should go back to the wagon. It must be watched every minute, and your man Roberts can't stand guard all day and all night too. He must be relieved, so that he can get some sleep. I shall be detained in town until one o'clock, probably, and then I shall go on after my wagon, and spend the rest of the night with it. To-morrow we will put our two teams together and see what they can do. What do you think of the proposition?"

The colonel thought it a good one, and was glad to accept it. Acting upon Oscar's suggestion, he ordered out his horse and rode away.

The boy watched him as long as he remained in sight, frequently saying to himself:

"I knew I would some day have a chance to get even with him, but I didn't think it would come so soon."

CHAPTER XIII. HOW OSCAR GOT EVEN.

"Hurrouch! Look out there! Bedad I'll break the head of yez!"

This was the way in which Oscar Preston was welcomed when he dismounted in front of his wagon, about three o'clock in the morning, and put his foot upon the dissel-boom, preparatory to climbing in and taking possession of the swinging cot that was slung up under the arches which supported the canvas tent.

He had passed a very pleasant evening in the company of the gentlemen he had invited to enjoy his hospitality at Mr. Dibbit's hotel. The dinner was excellent, for the worthy landlord knew how to serve those who had the money to pay for his attentions, and after full justice had been done to it, and he had taken leave of his friends, each of whom gave him some additional advice in regard to the route to be pursued, and the manner in which he ought to conduct himself in certain emergencies, Oscar mounted his horse, which, for want of a better name, he had christened "Little Gray," and rode toward Howick.

About a mile beyond the blacksmith shop he discovered a wagon on the veldt, or open field, which he judged to be Colonel Dunhaven's. It was lying almost on its side, and there were no living things to be seen about it, no oxen or horses, or even a dog to challenge him.

His own camp, which he reached after he had ridden about ten miles further on, presented a more cheerful appearance. The huge wagon was right side up, and there was a fire burning brightly beside it.

His oxen, fastened two and two in their yokes, were lying at their ease, "chewing the cud of contentment"; the horse Paddy O'Brian had ridden away from the hotel in the morning was tied to one of the hind wheels of the wagon, and the dogs were curled up under it.

Awakened by the sound of his horse's feet, they came out in a body and welcomed him vociferously.

Having quieted them, Oscar dismounted, and while he was taking the saddle off Little Gray and tying him beside his mate he heard a rustling in the wagon and a voice muttering:

"Hould aisy there, ye blackgarrud!"

Oscar laughed silently, and told himself that he had not the slightest reason to fear that his property would be interfered with so long as Paddy O'Brian had anything to do with it. He walked around the wagon to warm his hands at the fire (it was cold, and the heavy overcoat he wore was not at all uncomfortable), and saw his native servants sleeping there, covered up, head and ears, with their skin cloaks.

"I am all right so far," thought Oscar as he looked about him with a pleased expression on his face, and thought of the trials that had been so graphically described to him. "Thanks to my good friends, I have escaped every annoyance. I am almost sorry I offered to assist the colonel, for I shall lose much valuable time by it. I know he never would have offered to help me if I had been in trouble. How he would have stared at me through that eyeglass of his if he had seen me hopelessly stalled and my oxen rusty, while his own team was moving smoothly along the hard road! But that's the way I am going to get even with him."

Having thoroughly warmed himself at the fire, Oscar turned toward the wagon; but no sooner had he laid his hand upon the fore-chest than Paddy O'Brian's blackthorn stick whirled through the air and struck the lid with a sounding whack.

Fortunately he missed his aim in the dark, but the unexpected attack startled Oscar, who jumped back with an angry exclamation.

"If I hurted yez I beg yer pardon," said Paddy in a sympathetic tone. "But kape away from that wagon, for I'm the best little man in Afriky."

During his long intercourse with the honest but combative Irishman Oscar could discover but one fault in him, and that was, it took him forever to wake up. Oscar could spring from his cot, rifle in hand, at any hour of the night, and the moment he landed on his feet all his senses came to him, and he knew just what he was about, but Paddy never found his wits until he had done something he ought not to have done.

He gave a ludicrous example of this one night, and came very near sealing his death warrant by it. What it was shall be told in its proper place.

"If you think you are going to get a fight out of me you are mistaken," said Oscar.

Paddy, who was wide awake now, was profuse in his apologies.

"It's all right," said his employer; "but in future don't be quite so free with that stick of yours. Be sure you are striking at the right man."

Oscar slept soundly in his comfortable bed, and at daylight was awakened by his cook, who called him to breakfast. He ate alone, sitting in a camp-chair beside a cheerful fire which Paddy O'Brian had kindled for his especial benefit, and as he sipped his coffee and looked around at his possessions he felt like a young monarch.

This was his first taste of African life. In this way he was to live for long months to come.

Breakfast over, Oscar began to bestir himself and to issue some rapid orders, which were as rapidly obeyed. A saddle was put on Little Gray, the oxen were fastened to the trek-tow and started back toward Colonel Dunhaven's disabled wagon, led by the fore-loper and followed by the driver and interpreter, the latter being armed with a jambok, which is a long, pliable whip made of rhinoceros-hide.

After seeing them well under way Oscar gave his cook some minute instructions regarding the duties that were to occupy his attention during his absence, and then mounted his horse and set out at a gallop.

When he came within sight of the colonel's wagon he did not see anybody about it. Greatly surprised at this, he rode up, and, drawing aside the fly, looked into the tent, fully expecting to find it deserted; but there was the colonel, fast asleep in his swinging cot, and Roberts snoring on the fore-chest.

"You are a pretty pair, I must say," thought the boy, whose first impulse was to go back to his own wagon, leaving the colonel to get out of his predicament as best he could. "I have come ten miles on purpose to help you, only to find you both fast asleep. Look here!" he shouted. "This will never do. You ought to have been at work on this wagon at the first peep of day."

"Aw!" said the colonel, raising himself on his elbow and rubbing his eyes, while Roberts rolled off the fore-chest with alacrity. "Is that you, Mr. Preston?"

"Yes, it is I; and I have caught you both in bed," replied Oscar in no very amiable tones. "If you want any of my help look alive. Where is your jack-screw?"

"Jack-screw?" repeated the colonel languidly, sinking back on his pillow and putting his hands under his head. "Really I don't think we have such an article in the outfit! Have we, Roberts?"

"No, sir," replied the latter promptly.

Oscar could hardly believe his ears. One of the most necessary implements—one that is used in African travel as often as a spade or a pick—had been left behind. The colonel might as well have come away from Maritzburg without his "battery."

"Harris said we didn't need any," added Roberts.

"That wasn't the only falsehood he told you," said Oscar in disgust. "How do you suppose you are going to get that wheel out of there?"

"I don't know, I am sure, unless we pull it out with the oxen," drawled the colonel.

"There are not oxen enough in the country to pull it out, and neither was there a trek-tow ever made that would stand the strain," answered the boy, who was almost ready to boil over when he saw how indifferent the person most interested in the matter of extricating the wagon seemed to be. "Neither have you any oxen—at least I don't see any," he continued, looking all around the field.

"Why, didn't you bring any with you?" asked the colonel, raising himself on his elbow again.

He looked interested now, and there was something in the tone of his voice, and in the expression of his face, that provoked Oscar, who knew then, as well as though the colonel had explained it to him, that his offer of assistance had been taken in a very broad sense.

The colonel expected that Oscar would draw his wagon out on firm ground, and that he himself would have no trouble about it. He expected to pay, and to pay liberally, for the service, but he wanted nothing to do with the work.

While it was being done he would sit by in a camp-chair and smoke his pipe and look on, while Roberts held an umbrella over his head.

But Oscar did not intend to waste any of the committee's time in working for money. He had simply offered to assist the colonel, but he did not expect that all the responsibility would be shifted upon his own shoulders.

"My oxen are coming," replied Oscar, "but it will be an hour or more before they will get here. By that time the dew will be off the grass, and they must be turned loose to graze. Why didn't you bring your oxen up yesterday?"

"My dear fellow, didn't I tell you that my servants have all deserted me?" answered the colonel.

"Then, why didn't you go in search of them yourself?"

"Because I don't choose to do work that others are paid to do for me."

"You'll have to act as your own servant if you get anything done," said Oscar. "Suppose you send Roberts down to the blacksmith shop after a jack-screw."

This proposition fairly staggered Roberts, who looked first at Oscar and then at his own spotless livery.

"What harm is there in it?" demanded the boy sharply. "You'll have to do worse things than that before you get back. You had better put your pride in your pocket while you stay in this country, for if you think you are going to keep those clothes looking as nice as they do now you will be disappointed."

"Why can't you send one of your own men?" asked Roberts.

"Because they are not here, and when they arrive they will have to herd the cattle to keep them from straying away. I didn't agree to boss this job—I only offered to help; and seeing that you are not going to do anything about it, I will bid you good-day."

"Stop! stop!" cried the colonel in an imperious tone. "Set your price, and go to work and get the wagon out the best way you can."

"I can't get it out with one team and only three men to do the work. You ought to have had your oxen and servants here bright and early."

"How in the world was I to get them when I didn't know where they were?"

"You ought to have found out where they were. But I have wasted time enough. Good-day."

Oscar turned his horse's head toward his own camp, and rode rapidly until he had met and sent back the oxen.

After that he allowed his horse to settle down into a walk; and as he rode along he thought over the events of the morning, and wondered how much the outside world would have known about Africa if all Englishmen had been like Colonel Dunhaven.

Oscar had not been able to "get even" with him, after all, but he had shown his good will.

As soon as the oxen reached the wagon they were turned loose to graze. By the time they had eaten their fill it was too hot to travel, and so Oscar took to his wagon and wrote up his diary.

At three o'clock in the afternoon he gave the order to inspan, and shortly after sunset went into camp within sight of the town of Howick.

CHAPTER XIV. LETTERS FROM HOME.

We wish we could say that from this time forward Oscar prosecuted his journey without any mishap, but such was not the case. Accidents of all kinds were of almost daily occurrence, and that was no more than one could expect in a country in which the roads are left to take care of themselves, and are passable only for the strongest of wagons, drawn by teams the most powerful.

Before the foot of the Drackenberg Mountains was reached Oscar had fashioned three new dissel-booms with his own hands, and the trek-tow had been repaired more than once. But there was something of which he no longer stood in fear, and that was treachery. His men were all capable, honest, and willing, and never shirked their share of the work.

Before attempting the ascent of the dreaded Drackenberg Oscar off-loaded and had his wagon thoroughly overhauled by a blacksmith.

He afterward told himself that it was well he did so, for he found the pass to be the worst place he ever got into. His own oxen alone never could have pulled his heavy wagon up that steep incline.

But, as good luck would have it, he came up with a couple of Dutch farmers, who had spent two days in camp at the foot of the mountains, smoking their pipes, and looking first at the pass and then at their wagons, and trying to make up their minds whether or not they could reach the top with two teams to each vehicle.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Oscar found them. He immediately out-spanned a little distance away, and, in company with his interpreter, went over to invite the Boers to drink coffee with him; but, to his surprise, the men flatly refused to have anything to do with him.

"What's the matter with them, Thompson?" asked Oscar.

"They say they don't like Englishmen, and won't drink coffee with them," answered the interpreter.

"But I am not an Englishman," said Oscar. "Ask them if they ever heard of America. I don't suppose they ever did," he added to himself.

In this the boy was happily mistaken. The Boers could not understand all he said (it turned out afterward that they were by no means as ignorant of the English language as they pretended to be), but they caught the word "America," and straightway began to exhibit a lively interest in our hero—that is, as lively an interest as men of their temperament could exhibit in anything.

They took their pipes out of their mouths and looked at him, while something that was doubtless intended for a smile overspread their faces.

When the boy walked up and offered them his hand they took it and shook it cordially.

"Now, Thompson, ask them again if they will come over and have some coffee," said Oscar.

The men did not refuse this time. A Boer is very fond of coffee, and although there are few of them who will spend any of their own money for it, they are quite willing to drink it when it is provided at the expense of somebody else.

Oscar's guests emptied their cups almost as fast as Paddy O'Brian could fill them, and poured the hot liquid down their throats in a way that made that worthy individual open his eyes.

"Now, Thompson," said Oscar when the huge coffee-pot had been drained of its last drop, "tell them that if they will help me pull my wagon over the Drackenberg I will help them pull theirs over."

This was a very plain and simple proposition, and it seemed as though anybody ought to have understood it; but it was evident that the Boers did not.

When Big Thompson repeated his employer's words to them in Dutch they arose from their seats, went a little way from the wagon, and held a long and earnest consultation.

Then they came back, and, through the interpreter, asked that the proposal might be repeated. This they did so many times that Oscar began to be provoked, and to wonder at their stupidity.

He afterward learned that this way of doing business was characteristic of the Dutch farmers. They never would accept any offer until they had consulted with some of their friends, and it was impossible to hurry them.

Oscar's guests, although they were anxious to get over the mountains, were fully half an hour in making up their minds whether or not they would accept the proposition that had been made them; but they did accept it at last, and after the bargain had been ratified by another pot of coffee, liberally sweetened, they went back to their camp, and Oscar proceeded at once to inspan. Half an hour afterward his wagon moved off, drawn by thirty-six oxen, and began the toilsome ascent.

It was ten hours' hard work to reach the summit. Strong and willing as most of the oxen were, they could not draw the heavy vehicle more than fifty feet without stopping to take breath, and then it was necessary that the wheels should be blocked with large stones, the brakes not being powerful enough to hold them.

While Oscar was toiling up the pass behind one of the wheels, carrying in his arms a stone weighing between twenty and thirty pounds, one of the Boers, similarly provided, following close behind the other, he often thought of Colonel Dunhaven, and wondered what the man who had been ready to give up in despair because his wagon had been "stalled" on level ground would have thought of such work as this.

There was danger in it, too, as Oscar learned before he had gone a great way, for whenever they reached a particularly bad portion of the road, where the rocks arose on one side and a gulf yawned on the other, the Boer, who had by this time found out that he could talk a little English, was sure to remark that a wagon had gone over there only a short time before.

If Oscar's had gone over it would have taken a good many cattle with it unless the trek-tow broke; but, fortunately, no accident happened.

The skilful drivers—there were two of them besides Oscar's—accomplished the ascent in safety, and at last the summit of the pass was reached.

There a breathing spell was taken and more coffee drank, after which the Boers unhitched their oxen, leaving Oscar to take care of himself.

In two hours more his wagon was standing in the edge of a grassy plain, and Oscar was sleeping soundly in his cot, while Paddy O'Brian nodded over his pipe, and the Hottentots toiled back over the mountain to assist the Boers.

About noon Oscar awoke, feeling perfectly refreshed, and, drawing aside the fly of his tent, took a look at the dreaded Drackenberg by daylight.

It had been a bugbear to him from the start, and he had repeatedly been warned that, unless he were possessed of an unusual amount of pluck and determination, his journey would end when he reached it.

But it had been passed in safety, thanks to the friendly Boers, and it was a relief to him to know that he need not bother his head about it again, for a year at least.

Two days afterward Oscar reached Harrismith, and after outspanning below the town he climbed the hill and made inquiries for Mr. Hutchinson, to whom he had letters of introduction.

That gentleman said he was glad to see him, gave him a large package of letters and papers which Mr. Donahue had forwarded by post-cart, and invited him to dinner.

Oscar looked first at his letters and then at his clothes—which were beginning to show signs of wear—and wondered how he could decline the invitation.

"Never mind your clothes," said Mr. Hutchinson—a jolly old gentleman who reminded Oscar of his friend Captain Sterling. "We don't expect hunters to look as though they had just come out of some lady's bandbox."

"I am greatly obliged to you, sir," replied Oscar; "but when I tell you that these are the first letters I have received from home since leaving Maritzburg I know you will not press the matter."

"Oh, oh—of course! Then say to-morrow—to-morrow evening at six, sharp."

Oscar accepted this invitation, and, picking up his package, hurried down the hill.

"Dinner at six," thought he as he quickened his pace almost to a run. "These English cling to their old-time customs wherever they go. I wouldn't delay the reading of these letters for the sake of all the dinners that were ever served up."

The wagon seemed to be a long way off; but Oscar reached it at last, and throwing himself upon his cot, tore open the package, and began sorting out its contents.

He found there several letters from his mother; others from Sam Hynes, Leon Parker, Captain Sterling, and Mr. Donahue.

The letters were long and full of news, and Oscar became so deeply interested in reading them that he did not know that Paddy O'Brian had twice called him to dinner.

"I don't want anything to eat," said he when Paddy had at last succeeded in attracting his attention by thumping the fore-chest with his stick. "I have something better on hand."

Oscar had not gone very far into his third letter before he felt as homesick as Leon Parker did when he found himself, friendless and alone, in the fort at Julesburg. A lump rose up in his throat, a mist gathered before his eyes, and, throwing down the letter, he sprang off his cot and rushed out of the wagon. It seemed to him that he would suffocate if he stayed in there a moment longer.

"Paddy," he exclaimed, "put the saddle on Little Gray!"

"And don't ye want any dinner at all at all?" asked the cook.

"No, I don't. Hurry up!"

Paddy made all haste to obey, and then stood and looked wonderingly after his employer, who, as soon as he was fairly seated on Little Gray's back, set off over the plain as if all the lions in Africa were close at his heels.

CHAPTER XV. A GOOD SHOT AND A SURPRISE.

"I wish that wagon and its contents were at the bottom of the sea, and that I were safe in Eaton again," said Oscar to himself as he flew over the plain. "If I had gone through with my expedition and was on my way to the coast it would be bad enough; but as it is I don't wonder that Leon Parker had to take his bed. The doctors say that people have died of homesickness before now, and I believe it."

For a few minutes Oscar was certainly in a very bad way; but the fresh air and Little Gray's easy, rapid motion seemed to have a soothing effect on him, and after he had ridden a mile or more at a headlong gallop he turned about and went back to the wagon.

He knew that he must do something to keep up his spirits, and for want of something better he seated himself on the dissel-boom and talked to Paddy O'Brian.

It was the best thing he could have done. Paddy was as witty as any of his race, and after Oscar had enjoyed a few hearty laughs he climbed into the wagon and finished the reading of his letters. Then he set to work to answer them.

He was busy until long after midnight, writing by the light of a lantern that stood on the fore-chest, and he did not complete his task until three o'clock the next afternoon.

Then he took out of his trunk one of the extra suits of moleskin which he had not yet worn, and after making his toilet with a great deal of care, picked up his letters and climbed the hill to Harrismith to keep his appointment with Mr. Hutchinson.

That gentleman, who was acquainted with almost everybody in the country, gave him a letter to a friend who lived about a hundred and fifty miles distant, and before the dew was off the grass the next morning Oscar had left Harrismith a long way behind him.

Up to this time the young hunter had secured but a very few specimens, and they were mostly birds.

He had not taken a rifle out of its holster but once, and that was to shoot a baboon he saw frisking about in a rocky ravine through which the wagon passed, and whose skin was now stowed away in one of his chests.

He was getting into a game country, and almost every day he saw small herds of spring-bucks and wilde-beests feeding in plain view.

The temptation to stop and try a shot at them was strong, but he resisted it, for the reason that he thought it would be a waste of time.

He did not know how to hunt African game, and his object was to reach the home of Mr. Lawrence, a gentleman to whom he had been given letters of introduction, and whom he hoped to induce to act as his instructor.

Mr. Lawrence was a prosperous farmer as well as an enthusiastic sportsman. He had been in Africa long enough to know how to bag all the different kinds of game with which the country abounded, and he was engaged in his favorite recreation, riding to the hounds, when Oscar met him. It came about in this way:

When on the march the young hunter always rode quite half a mile in advance of the wagon, and one morning he had the good fortune to come within easy shooting distance of the largest herd of spring-bucks he had ever seen.

The little animals crossed the track not more than a hundred yards in advance of him, and Oscar had a fair view of them. They ran at the top of their speed, bounding along like so many rubber balls, and clearing from twelve to fifteen feet at a jump without the least apparent effort.

When they reached the wagon-track they sailed over it as easily as if they had been furnished with wings, and then trotted along with their noses close to the ground, as if they felt in a very sportive mood.

Being unarmed, Oscar could do nothing but sit in his saddle and look at them, reproaching himself the while for not bringing a rifle with him.

If he had had one of his double-barrels in his hands he could have secured a couple of specimens and some fresh steaks for dinner without the least difficulty.

When the afternoon march began he rode out with an Express rifle on his shoulder, but he waited in vain for another herd of spring-bucks to cross the track. There were plenty of them in sight, but they took care to keep out of range.

The dogs, as usual, went off hunting on their own hook, but instead of driving the game in his direction they drove it farther away, and finally disappeared among the hills.

"Such a chance as I had this morning doesn't happen more than once in a fellow's lifetime," thought Oscar regretfully. "However, I have learned something by it. I know now how to set up a spring-buck if I ever get one, and have been convinced that in this country a hunter had better keep a rifle by him all the time."

Oscar went off into a revery, which lasted nearly an hour, and from which he was finally aroused by the baying of a hound. He did not pay much attention to it at first, but when he found that there was more than one hound giving tongue, and that their music was growing louder every moment, he straightened up and began to look about him.

All at once a large, dark-brown animal appeared over the brow of a hill about a quarter of a mile to his right, and came toward him with the speed of the wind.

In an instant Oscar dropped to the ground, and looking over his horse's back, watched the movements of the game. He had scarcely taken up his position before a number of dogs came into view. They did not run in a compact body, as hounds usually do, but were spread out in a sort of skirmish order so as to cover each flank of their quarry. Oscar was quick to notice this, and he could not help congratulating himself on the intelligence displayed by his pack of mongrels.

"I had no idea they had so much sense," said he to himself. "The game, whatever it is, can't turn either way without running the risk of being caught. Its only chance is to keep straight ahead and outrun the dogs; but whether or not it can do that is a question. I never saw them move so swiftly before."

Oscar drew his head further down behind the saddle as he cocked both barrels of his rifle and waited with a beating heart for a chance to shoot.

Just then the game, discovering an enemy in front, swerved from its course, presenting a full broadside, and giving the excited young hunter the first fair view of a wilde-beest (the gnu of the naturalist) he had ever had.

This movement sealed its fate. As quick as thought Oscar sprang around the head of his horse, which stood motionless in his tracks, raised his rifle to his shoulder, and holding far enough in advance of the gnu to make allowance for distance and motion, pressed the trigger.

The first shot was a clean miss, but the second bullet told loudly, and when the smoke cleared away Oscar had the satisfaction of seeing the gnu lying on the ground all in a heap.

"There's something for Yarmouth!" he shouted. "That was the best shot I ever made."

Oscar at once ran forward to secure his prize and to prevent the dogs when they came up from spoiling its skin. He was greatly delighted, as well he might be, for he had secured a splendid specimen.

He straightened it out and looked at it, lost in admiration. It was a little more than four feet in height at the shoulders, and its mane and tail looked so much like those of a horse that, had it not been for its horns and hoofs, it might have been taken for rather a long-legged Shetland pony.

"It is a beautiful specimen," said Oscar aloud as he walked slowly around the animal, so that he could view it from all sides.

"It certainly is, but I should like to know what business you have shooting my game?" said a voice near him.

Oscar looked up in the greatest surprise and saw a horseman standing within twenty feet of him. Where he came from so suddenly was a mystery.

"That's my wilde-beest," continued the stranger. "I have been following him for more than an hour. Turn him over and you will see the mark of my bullet in his flank."

Oscar acted like a boy who had just been awakened out of a sound sleep. He rubbed his eyes to make sure that he was not dreaming, and then he saw that the dogs which had gathered about him, and whose speed and style of hunting he had so much admired, were not his own.

They were magnificent Scotch deer-hounds, and looked about as much like the members of his own pack as Oscar looked like the grinning little Hottentot who sat on his horse a short distance behind the man whose sudden and unexpected appearance had so startled and surprised him.

CHAPTER XVI. A TASTE OF CIVILIZED LIFE.

"How came you here?" asked Oscar as soon as he could speak.

He straightened up and took a good look at the hunter, and this is what he saw: A thick-set, broad-shouldered man, a gentleman on the face of him, dressed in a suit of white duck, cut in regular Boer style. His short jacket was open in front, showing the broad belt he wore about his waist and in which he carried his ammunition—at least Oscar thought so, for he saw a large powder-horn sticking out of one of his pockets. He wore a wide-brimmed hat on his head, and as much of his face as could be seen over his whiskers was as brown as sole-leather.

He carried a heavy double-barrelled rifle across the horn of his saddle, and rode a magnificent horse, whose glossy breast was flecked with foam, showing that he had been ridden long and rapidly.

Close behind the stranger, on another horse that looked equally as good, sat his Hottentot after-rider, who also carried a heavy rifle in his hands.

The hunter's face wore a good-natured smile, and there was a merry twinkle in his eye. He evidently enjoyed Oscar's surprise.

"Who are you?" continued the boy.

"Seeing that you have had the impudence to bag my game, I think that is a proper question for me to ask," was the reply.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Oscar, who had by this time fully recovered himself. "I supposed this gnu had been started by my own dogs. I didn't know that there was another white person within two days' journey of this place."

"Gnu!" repeated the stranger. "I haven't heard that word before in years. You are not English?"

"No, sir. I am an American."

"Ah, indeed!" exclaimed the hunter, now astonished in his turn. "And what in the world are you doing out here, so far from home, may I ask?"

"I came here to procure specimens of natural history for a university museum," answered Oscar.

He expected that the hunter would be surprised, and he certainly was. Everybody was surprised when the boy told what his business was. Probably no one of his years had ever been engaged in such an undertaking before.

"You did!" exclaimed the horseman.

"Yes, sir, I did," replied Oscar, who thought his new acquaintance looked a little incredulous. "And I have the papers to prove it."

"Where are your companions?"

"They are with the wagon. If you will ride on with me until I outspan I shall be glad to have you drink coffee with me. Of course this is your game, you having had the first shot at it, but, if you will permit me, I will put it into my wagon and save you the trouble of carrying it."

The horseman made no reply. The wagon came up just then, and while Paddy O'Brian and the Kaffir were putting the wilde-beest into it the strange hunter looked all around, as if he were searching for something or somebody he could not find. When the wagon moved on again Oscar mounted his horse and rode on ahead, in company with his new acquaintance.

"Where did you say your companions were?" the latter asked at length.

"These are all I have," answered Oscar—"a driver, fore-loper, interpreter, and cook."

The stranger was greatly amazed.

"Do you mean to tell me that you are the owner of this wagon and the leader of this expedition?" said he.

"I do, sir."

"And you, a mere lad, who has hardly got out of pinafores, have come out here all by yourself to—— It beats everything I ever heard of!"

"I have got on very well so far, sir, although I have taken but very few specimens. You see, I don't know how to hunt the game one finds here, but I do know right where I can go to get instructions. Do you know a gentleman living somewhere in this country of the name of Lawrence?"

"I have a slight acquaintance with him."

Oscar looked at the stranger. There was something in the tone of his voice and in the expression of his face which told him that he was at that moment in the company of the man he wanted to see.

Hastily excusing himself, he rode back to the wagon, climbed into it, and took from one of the pockets a package of letters, with which he galloped back to his companion's side.

"Mr. Lawrence," said he, "my name is Oscar Preston, and there are letters of introduction to you which some of your friends were kind enough to give me."

The gentleman took the letters and read them as he rode along. When he had made himself master of their contents he turned in his saddle and shook the young hunter's hand.

"I am glad to see you, and I give you a hearty welcome," said he.

Then he issued some hasty orders in Dutch to his after-rider, who wheeled his horse and hastened back to the wagon.

"My house is only ten miles away," continued Mr. Lawrence, "and I have sent word to your driver not to outspan until he gets there. I confess that I am very greatly surprised at your—your—I was going to say foolhardiness; but no one can be called foolhardy who goes coolly and deliberately about a thing after he has counted well the cost, so I will say your courage and perseverance. I supposed, of course, that you had some person of years and experience with you to superintend matters. Young man, you have already done wonders, and if you keep on as you have begun there is no telling what you may not accomplish before you pass along this track again on your way to the coast. There is plenty of game about here belonging to the order Ruminantia. I suppose you know what I mean by that?"

"Certainly, sir. You mean animals that chew the cud."

"Exactly. You can see for yourself that there are plenty of them, and you must stay with me as my guest until you learn how to hunt them. It will give me great pleasure to assist you in any way I can. You will find that I am something of a naturalist as well as a hunter. Of the Carnivora——"

"They are the flesh-eaters," said Oscar when his companion paused and looked at him.

"Well, we don't have many of them here, and you will have to take your chances with them when you find them, for it is little that I can tell you about them."

Oscar was soon on the best of terms with his new friend, who chatted away as familiarly as though he had known the boy all his life.

In about three hours they reached Mr. Lawrence's house; and if we were to say that Oscar was surprised at the sight of it we should but feebly express his feelings.

Here, in the midst of a wilderness more than fifty miles from any neighbor, the English gentleman had created a perfect little paradise.

The road led through an extensive orchard of orange, apple, plum, peach, and walnut trees, and after that came a vineyard that was fairly purple with grapes.

At the lower end of the lawn, which must have contained a hundred acres, was a large pond sheltered by weeping-willows and covered with ducks and geese.

The house was in perfect keeping with its surroundings. It was a large, roomy structure, well built, and furnished in a style which made Oscar wonder.

The first room into which he was conducted was the library—think of a library in the heart of Africa!—and there he remained until Mr. Lawrence brought in his wife and children, who greeted the visitor in the most cordial manner.

This was the first taste of civilized life that Oscar had had along the route outside of the towns he passed, and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

It seemed like old times to find himself seated at a farmer's table once more, and to have educated and refined people to talk to. But when he went to bed his trouble began. His couch was too soft and he could not sleep.

After rolling and tossing for half the night he spread one of the quilts on the floor, and in five minutes more was in dreamland.

Oscar spent a month under Mr. Lawrence's hospitable roof, and during that time he received all the instructions he needed. What they were it is not necessary to tell here, for we shall learn something about them when we find him alone on the plain, dependent on his own resources and surrounded by wild beasts which disturbed his camp every night, and often did something worse.

He made some improvements in his new friend's stuffed specimens, gave him lessons in taxidermy, and Mr. Lawrence, in return, presented him with two of his fine Scotch deer-hounds.

One of these went back to Eaton with him and took the place of Bugle, who died of old age during his master's absence, and the other—well, Oscar did not keep him a great while, and we shall soon tell how he lost him.

One bright morning Oscar, with many regrets, took leave of his kind host and his family and resumed his journey. The oxen, invigorated by their long rest, walked off in the most lively manner with the heavy wagon, which had been thoroughly overhauled by Mr. Lawrence's blacksmith.

He was bound for new hunting-grounds, far beyond Leichtberg, at which place Paddy O'Brian was to take leave of him.

CHAPTER XVII. A MIDNIGHT ALARM.

"What in the world is the matter with those horses?"

Oscar had just finished writing up his diary, and was getting ready to tumble into his cot. The camp, which had been made in the edge of a little grove a quarter of a mile from the nearest water-hole, had been put in order for the night.

The trek-tow was stretched from one of the hind wheels of the wagon to a tree that stood twenty yards away, and to this the oxen were tied. The horses were fastened to the rear of the vehicle, and under it were all the dogs and three goats which Oscar had purchased of Mr. Lawrence.

Paddy O'Brian was sitting on the dissel-boom smoking his pipe. A little distance away a fire was burning brightly, and around it were seated the Kaffir interpreter and the two Hottentots, who had erected a high fence of thorn bushes to protect them from the attack of any hungry beast which might be disposed to make a meal of one of their number.

It was the first time they had taken this precaution, and when Oscar saw them building the fence he told himself that at last he had got into a country in which dangerous animals abounded.

The reader will bear in mind that when our hero hunted in Africa game was by no means as plenty as it was in Gordon Cumming's day.

The settlers, who increased in numbers every year, made savage war upon the antelope to supply their tables, and upon the beasts of prey to protect their flocks and herds, and now it was a rare thing to find any very dangerous animal between Zurnst and the coast. Consequently Oscar had thus far been allowed to pass his nights in peace.

The building of that fence of thorn bushes, however, was as good evidence as he needed to show him that he might begin to expect trouble now, and, in fact, it came that very night.

While he was writing in his diary, by the dim light of a lantern, using the fore-chest for a desk, Little Gray and his mate suddenly began pulling at their halters, and snorting as if they were greatly alarmed about something, whereupon the men about the fire brought their conversation to a close, and the Kaffir arose and peered into the darkness.

"Now, then, what's the matter with the cattle?" exclaimed Oscar, who knew by the sudden jar communicated to the wagon that the oxen had also become alarmed, and were pulling at the trek-tow. "If there is any varmint about why don't the dogs say so? Go out there and speak to the horses, Paddy, and I will look around a bit."

After putting his writing materials away in one of the pockets that hung against the arches by which the tent was supported Oscar picked up a rifle, and made the circuit of the camp, much to the surprise and dismay of his native servants, one of whom called out in his broken English:

"Hi, baas! you'd best have a care. Something might spring out at you."

It was rather a dangerous proceeding to stroll around in the darkness, so far away from the protecting glare of the camp-fire, and the thought that possibly there might be some beast of prey loitering about, waiting for his supper, made the boy's heart beat a little faster than usual; but his hand was as steady as a rock.

He had unbounded confidence in himself. He knew that he seldom missed his aim, and he calculated to make a specimen of the first animal that showed himself.

He walked around the camp without seeing anything (there was something there that saw him, however, and made all haste to get out of his way), and as the horses and oxen had by this time become quiet he climbed into the wagon and went to sleep.

About midnight a terrible hubbub arose. The first thing that Oscar heard was the bleating of one of the goats that were tied under the wagon.

Then the dogs barked vociferously, the horses snorted and tried hard to escape from their fastenings, the oxen bellowed and pulled at the trek-tow, and the native servants shouted in chorus, and ran toward the wagon, waving aloft the blazing brands they had snatched from the fire.

Oscar, always cool and collected, sprang out of his cot and caught up a rifle, while Paddy O'Brian—who had doubtless been dreaming of Donnybrook Fair—rolled off the fore-chest, with his ready stick in his hand. It is probable that he had heard of the instructions given by one of his countrymen to a novice during a riot, "Whenever you see a head hit it," for he carried it out to the very letter.

"Hurrouch!" yelled Paddy, striking up a war-dance, and twirling his stick in his hand. "Sorra one of me knows what the foight is about, but take that, ye spalpeen!"

As he uttered these words he brought his stick down in the most approved fashion, and it landed on the head of Big Thompson (who just then came rushing up with a firebrand in one hand and an assegai in the other), flooring him in an instant.

Had it been a white man's head the consequences might have been serious; but the Kaffir's thick skull was his protection. He was on his feet again in a twinkling, and the honest Irishman was never before so near death as he was when the native drew back his spear in readiness for a throw.

"Hould aisy, ye blackguard!" cried Paddy, who was now wide awake.

At that instant Oscar Preston sprang between him and the enraged Kaffir, and the native, cowed by his employer's bold front, and not liking the looks of the rifle he held in his hands, all ready for a shot, lowered his spear and walked back to the fire.

The next thing was to ascertain the cause of the disturbance. One of the goats was missing; that fact was established at once, for the piteous bleatings of the poor animal could be heard growing fainter and fainter as the daring robber hurried away.

All attempt at rescue would have been unavailing, and, to tell the truth, Oscar did not think of making any.

The night was pitch dark, and the actions of the dogs, which followed close upon the heels of the robber and barked at him, but dared not lay hold of him, made the boy believe that the animal was one that had better be left alone.

What species he belonged to Oscar, of course, could not tell, but everything proved that he had been very sly about his work.

He had taken his prey from under the very noses of the sleeping dogs, and neither they nor the horses or oxen knew that there was anything wrong until they were alarmed by the bleating of the goat.

"He must have been a powerful as well as a cunning beast," thought Oscar as he examined the broken rope, which was almost as large as a clothes line. "That goat must have weighed sixty or seventy pounds. When Mr. Lawrence gave me those hounds he assured me that they would attack anything from a porcupine to a leopard; but they didn't dare take hold of this fellow. Where was he, I wonder, while I was walking about the camp? Whew! I don't want anything to do with such a varmint in the dark."

The dogs came in one after another; and when quiet had been restored Oscar went to bed again.

It was a long time before Big Thompson forgave the Irishman for knocking him down. He looked savagely at Paddy whenever the latter came near him, and muttered something between his clenched teeth, and it took a good share of Paddy's tobacco to restore the Kaffir to his usual good nature.

After this nothing worthy of interest happened until the wagon reached Leichtberg, where Paddy O'Brian was to leave Oscar's employ.

Oscar had letters of introduction to Mr. Evans, an English gentleman living in Leichtberg, and, as usual, he was cordially received.

During the progress of one of his conversations with Mr. Evans, who, like all the rest of those whose acquaintance he had made since leaving his native land, was an ardent and experienced sportsman, Oscar spoke of the loss of his goat, and asked what sort of an animal it was that carried it off.

"It was a hyena—a spotted hyena—the pest of this country," replied his host. "It was well for your dogs that they did not take hold of him, for he would have made mince-meat of the whole pack before they could have yelped twice. In point of cunning and rapacity, the spotted hyena surpasses every beast of prey in Africa. I except nothing. An animal that can take a child out of its mother's arms when both are asleep, and get away with it without alarming anybody, would not have much difficulty in stealing a goat from under a wagon, would he?"

Oscar could only look the surprise that these words occasioned.

"What I am about to tell you I know to be a fact, although you will scarcely credit it," continued Mr. Evans. "When I first came to this country wolves, as we call them here, were in the habit of paying regular nightly visits to the streets of Cape Town, and it was not so very long ago that their howling (the cries they utter sound more like laughing than howling, and for that reason they are sometimes called laughing hyenas) was heard from Table Mountain.

"In the Kaffir country they are so numerous and daring that they make a business of entering the villages of the natives and carrying off young children. When a native builds a house, which is in form something like an old-fashioned straw bee-hive, the floor is raised two or three feet from the ground, and covers only part of the house—the back part. In the space between this raised floor and the door, which is nothing but a piece of antelope hide, the calves are tied every night, for protection from the storms and from wild beasts. Now you would suppose that when a wolf got into one of these houses he would grab the first thing he came to, but he won't do it. He'll not look at lambs or calves if he has once tasted human flesh. He will pass them without alarming them, get upon the raised floor, and take a child from under its mother's kaross, and he will do it in so gentle and cautious a manner that no one is awakened. What do you think of that?"

Oscar did not know what to think of it. It beat anything he had ever heard of.

CHAPTER XVIII. OSCAR REACHES HIS HUNTING-GROUNDS.

"What are the habits of these hyenas?" asked Oscar after a few moments' pause. "What do they do with themselves during the daytime? I should like to know all about them, for I want to take a specimen or two back with me."

"I certainly hope you will succeed in getting one; but if you do it will be more by good luck than good management," replied his new friend. "I have hunted in this country for sixteen years, and during that time I have shot but very few of them. They do the most of their hunting in the night. During the daytime they are hidden away among the rocks in ravines so dark and gloomy that you would think twice before going into one of them. I never heard of a hunter being attacked by them, but I should not like to press one too closely. If I came upon him unawares I shouldn't feel easy until he was dead or disabled."

"Couldn't I trap one of them?" asked Oscar.

"There's not one chance in a thousand," was the reply. "They are very cunning."

The longer Oscar talked with his host, and the more he learned about these fierce and wary animals, the more determined he became to secure one of them by some means or other.

He succeeded, too, by what he then considered to be a stroke of good fortune, although he afterward wondered if his prize did not cost him more than it was worth.

"By the way," said Mr. Evans after he had told the young hunter all he knew about hyenas and their habits, "what are you going to do now that your cook has left you?"

"I don't know," answered Oscar. "I suppose I shall have to hire a native."

"And go into the wilderness with no one to talk to?" exclaimed Mr. Evans. "You mustn't do that. You would go crazy in less than a month. I have hunted alone, and know something about it. You must have a companion."

Oscar replied that he would be only too glad to take one with him if he knew where the right sort of person could be found; and there the matter ended until the next evening.

While he was busy cooking his supper a man approached and handed him a note, which proved to be from the gentleman with whom he had taken dinner the day before. It introduced the bearer, Robert McCann, as one who, for a suitable consideration, would accompany him as cook, companion, and after-rider.

I do not recommend him [so the note ran], for I know but little about him. He has been into the interior on several trading expeditions, and is well acquainted with the country for which you are bound. He claims to be an old elephant hunter. He is the only man that can be found in Leichtberg just at present, and if I were in your place I would rather take him than go without anybody.

"Well," said Oscar after he had read the note, "if you can act as my guide after I get beyond Zurnst, and can tell where the best camping-grounds are, and find water for the cattle when they get thirsty, I think you are the man I want, provided you know how to retain your good-nature at all times and under all circumstances. I have known men who were the best kind of fellows so long as they had a tight roof over them and a warm fire in front of them, or a well-filled table at their elbow, but who proved to be anything but agreeable companions when they were caught out in a storm and had to go cold, wet, and hungry. Can you handle a rifle?"

"I can't remember the day when I couldn't," replied the man in a tone Oscar did not like.

"I want not only a good cook, but also an after-rider who is a dead shot, and who can be depended on in any emergency," continued Oscar. "I am not going into the wilderness on a pleasure excursion. I am going there to hunt, and the sooner I get through with the work that has been laid out for me to do the sooner I can go home. I want a man who is not afraid of work, and who is not all the time trying to see how little he can do to earn his food and wages."

Oscar then went on to describe the man's duties, telling him, in the plainest language, what he should expect if he agreed to accompany him into the wilderness; and at the end of half an hour a bargain had been struck, and Robert McCann returned to the village, after promising to be on hand bright and early the next morning, all ready to "set in."

"They told me he was a young fellow, but I didn't expect to find him a boy," soliloquized McCann as he walked toward Leichtberg. "Of course he can't boss me, and I shall take pains to let him see it. And he had the impudence to ask if I could handle a gun, and to tell me that he wanted an after-rider who could be depended on! I'll warrant I can kill game where he can't find any; and as for standing up to the rack when trouble comes—— Hold on a bit!" said Mr. McCann, rubbing his hands gleefully together. "Wait until he gets his first sight of a mad buffalo! I'll make him wish he had never seen or heard of Africa! I am to receive twenty-five pounds for staying with him until he gets back to Leichtberg. He wants me to be gone nearly a year, but if I can make him come back in two or three months so much the better for me. I shall earn my twenty-five pounds very easily. Aha! that's an idea that is worth thinking of."

"I don't much like that fellow," said Oscar to himself as he looked after McCann's retreating figure. "He is inclined to be insolent, and I am afraid there is much more brag than work in him. But, after all, he is better than nobody, and if I don't like him I can give him his walking-papers as soon as we arrive at Zurnst."

But McCann proved, at the start, to be better than his employer thought he would. He was an excellent cook, was possessed of considerable intelligence, was rather fluent in speech, and Oscar found no little pleasure in listening to his stories, of which he seemed to have an inexhaustible supply.

Sometimes the young hunter thought McCann drew largely on his imagination when telling of the wonderful exploits he had performed among the elephants and lions of the "Great Thirst Land"; and, indeed, he did.

He supposed he could say what he pleased and Oscar would believe it.

The wagon had hardly left Zurnst before McCann began to carry out his plans for bringing Oscar's expedition to an end by telling some of the most fearful yarns the boy had ever heard.

He said, among other things, that the lions which were to be found in some of the plains that lay along Oscar's proposed route were so numerous and savage that they would not wait to be attacked, but would assume the offensive, even in the daytime, and drive hunters off their grounds.

He affirmed that the water was totally unfit to drink, being so full of animal life that an attempt to clear it by boiling only turned it into porridge; that the fountains were many days' journey apart, and that he had more than once seen thirsty oxen driven frantic by simply getting a sniff of the water-butt in the rear of the wagon.

"Oh, it's a dreadful place, Mr. Preston!" he would often say. "You have no idea of what is before you."

"That is just what folks told me when I went hunting in the foot-hills," Oscar would reply.

"But this is different. You had plenty of water, and there were no lions to kill your stock. I really don't know whether you can stand it or not."

"Can you?"

"Me? Oh, yes; I've been there! You will find that there is no discount on me."

"I am delighted to hear it. The next time we see Zurnst I shall be able to say that I have been there, too."

This answer always made McCann uneasy. He was not half the hunter he pretended to be, as we shall presently see, and he did not think that Oscar was much of a hunter, either.

If the latter had had a few more years on his shoulders McCann never would have agreed to accompany him into the wilderness.

He was afraid to go there; but when he found that his employer was nothing but a boy he thought he could work upon his fears and make him afraid to go there.

But they had not made more than two weeks' journey beyond Zurnst before McCann began to see that he had been badly mistaken in the boy.

Oscar did not scare worth a cent. He held straight ahead, keeping his course without once consulting his companion, finding every fountain on the way with as much ease as though he had been acquainted with the country all his life, and finally arrived at the camping-ground toward which he had been directing his course ever since leaving Zurnst.

He and McCann, who always led the way on horseback, reached it about half an hour ahead of the wagon.

After watering their horses they rode up out of the dry water-course in which the fountain was located and looked about them.

No one but an African traveller ever gazed upon such a scene as that which was presented to Oscar's view that evening. It was one that made his heart thrill.

The plain, which stretched away before and on each side of him as far as his eyes could reach, looked for all the world like some of the parks he had seen in England. It was as level as a lawn, and he could hardly bring himself to believe that the little groves that were scattered about over it had not been planted there by human hands.

The plain was fairly covered with game, which had congregated there to feed on the rich grass. It was big game, too, and Oscar could scarcely repress a shout of exultation at the sight of it.

The moment the young hunter and his companion rode out of the water-course a cloud of dust arose in the distance, and through it Oscar obtained his first view of one of the most dreaded animals in Africa—a buffalo; not the timid bison of our Western plains—which is not a buffalo at all—but a beast that is so savage that it is always ready to charge any living thing that comes in its way, so active and determined that a single lion cannot whip it in a fair fight, and so powerful that it has been known to overturn a heavily loaded Cape wagon with the greatest ease.

Behind the buffaloes—there was a vast herd of them—came a drove of quaggas, which were followed by a number of zebras, and elands, wilde-beests, and harte-beests brought up the rear.

The cloud of dust raised by such a multitude of hoofs soon shut out everything from view, but not until Oscar had caught a momentary glimpse of something that increased his excitement.

"Did you see that ostrich?" he exclaimed, turning to his companion in great glee. "It wouldn't take so very many of them to materially reduce the expenses of this expedition, for Mr. Lawrence told me that every bird carries around with him feathers worth between forty and fifty pounds."

"So he does," answered McCann; "but I don't think you can even get a specimen. You don't own a horse that can keep within sight of a full-grown ostrich."

"Oh, I shouldn't think of trying to ride them down! Mark my words: If I can find that fellow's nest I will take him and his mate to America with me. I'll conceal myself in the nest while the owners are absent, and shoot them when they come back."

"Well, you couldn't hire me to do a thing like that," said McCann with emphasis.

"Why not? I know that a stranger cannot approach a tame ostrich with impunity, for the bird will knock him down and strike him with his feet; but a wild one would rather run than fight."

"I know that, too; but still you may find something in the nest that would rather fight than run. Do you see that creature over there?"

As McCann spoke he directed his employer's attention to a bird, considerably larger and heavier than any crane Oscar had ever seen, which was stalking along the plain about a hundred yards away, stopping now and then to examine some object on the ground.

When he drew himself up at his full height the long feathers on the back of his head stuck out so that he looked as though he carried a quill-pen behind each ear.

"I see him," said Oscar. "It's a secretary-bird."

"Well, whenever you see them look out for snakes. You might find one curled up in that ostrich nest."

CHAPTER XIX. A FIGHT AND A RETREAT.

"I tell you, Mr. Preston, this is the most dangerous place in the whole country," continued McCann, "and you risk your life and ours by staying here."

"I can't help it if I do," replied Oscar. "I thought of that before I came to Africa, and you ought to have thought of it before you hired out to me. It is my business to go where the game is to be found. That's what I was sent here for."

"But just look at it for a moment," said McCann earnestly. "This fountain is the only water there is in the country for miles around."

"Exactly. I knew that when I came here, and it is just the reason I am going to stay. The game always comes where the water is."

"Yes; and so do the hyenas, leopards, and lions. The hyenas will rob you of your goats, the leopards will show a partiality for your dogs, and the lions will drive off your horses, and perhaps gobble you or one of your men up for dessert."

"If they do it will be our own fault," answered Oscar, who began to believe that his after-rider was not quite as courageous as he said he was. "It is our business to look out for things. Here is the wagon. Outspan under those trees, and have supper ready for me in an hour."

"You are never going out to hunt!" exclaimed McCann. "It will be pitch dark before you know it."

"I shall not go far," was the reply. "I want to shoot one of those secretary-birds before I go to bed."

As soon as the wagon came to a standstill Oscar climbed into it, and after putting the rifle he had carried all day into its case he selected from among his other weapons a heavy double-barrelled shot-gun.

With this in his hand, and a belt full of cartridges about his waist, he mounted Little Gray, all unconscious that the animal's speed would soon be tested to its very utmost, and rode out in search of a secretary.

It was a lovely evening, and Oscar was in just the mood to enjoy it.

Turtle-doves cooed to one another from the trees over his head; long-tailed finches, commonly called the widahbird, flitted through the branches; a garrulous honey-bird tried hard to attract his attention as he rode past, and now and then flocks of Namaqua partridges sailed by, uttering their melodious notes, and settled down about the fountain.

Oscar looked at all these birds, but did not try a shot at any of them. He had no time to waste, for darkness would soon be upon him.

As soon as he was fairly out of the grove he discovered one of the birds of which he was in search, stalking along about two hundred yards in advance of him.

Oscar rode toward it, keeping close watch of every move the bird made, so that he might know how to set it up after he had shot it.

The secretary soon discovered his approach, and, straightening up, looked curiously at the hunter for a few seconds, after which, like the industrious bird he was, he went about his business again.

He did not seem to be very much afraid, but still he showed very plainly that he did not care for company, for when Oscar had approached within fifty yards of him he moved away in so awkward and ostentatious a manner that the young hunter laughed outright.

He did not run or hop, but walked off with long, measured strides, and in much the same manner that a boy progresses when he is mounted on stilts.

The secretary seemed to be trying to show off, and the longer Oscar looked at him the louder he laughed.

While his merriment was at its height Little Gray—who was moving rapidly along, with his bridle hanging on his neck—uttered a loud snort, and jumped aside so suddenly that Oscar came within a hair's breadth of being thrown to the ground.

If he had been his hunting expedition would probably have been ended then and there; for when he reigned up his frightened steed, and looked around to see what had caused his alarm, he saw curled up in the sand, close by the track his horse had made, a hideous puff-adder, or, to speak according to the books, a horned cerastes, than which there is not a more deadly serpent in Africa. There is no known antidote for its bite.

It is supposed by some writers on natural history to be the same reptile that Cleopatra used when she destroyed herself. It was so large in proportion to its length that it could not coil itself up as other serpents do, but lay in the form of a figure of eight.

It was excited and angry, and raised its horrid head and thrust out its tongue in the most vicious manner. Oscar looked all around for a stick or stone, but could not find any; and as he did not want to shoot for fear of alarming the secretary-bird, he rode on, leaving the reptile to curl up and go to sleep again.

"I'll attend to you when I come back," said he as he put his horse into a gallop, and resumed his pursuit of the bird, whose long strides had carried him over a good deal of ground during this short delay. "I am down on all such things as you are."

In a few minutes more Oscar was riding within a hundred yards of the secretary, which kept stalking steadily ahead, as if he had made up his mind to go somewhere. Something must have told him that Oscar meant business this time, for he would not allow the boy to come as close as he did before.

He took wing, rising so far out of range that it would have been useless to fire at him, and, sailing majestically around the hunter, flew toward the fountain, Oscar had played with him a little too long, and his prize had slipped through his fingers.

He turned in his saddle to watch the bird's graceful flight, and took note of the fact that before he had gone far he began settling toward the ground.

He came down gradually at first, then with a rush, and the moment he landed on his feet, began that awkward stalk again; but this time he moved in a circle, and kept his wings outstretched and his head turned on one side, as if he were watching some object on the ground.

Oscar was at a loss how to account for this, until he discovered that the bird had alighted on the very ground which he had passed but a few minutes before. Then the matter became quite clear to him.

"I declare, he is after that adder," said Oscar, turning his horse around so that he could have a better view of what was going on. "Now, let's see the fight. Go in, Mr. Secretary; I'll bet on you every time!"

Just then the adder raised his horned head from the ground, only to be knocked flat immediately by a lightning-like stroke from one of the bird's wings. Then the secretary darted forward, and made an effort to seize the reptile in his strong, hooked beak; but quick as the bird was the snake was quicker, and frustrated the attempt by throwing back its head in readiness to strike.

Nothing daunted, the brave bird backed off, and, after a little manœuvring, knocked the reptile flat again, and this time succeeded in laying hold of it before it could recover itself.

Oscar expected to see the bird devour his prey on the spot; but instead of that he arose straight in the air until he had reached an altitude of two hundred feet or more, and then he allowed the snake to drop to the ground.

Swooping down after it with the velocity of an eagle, the bird caught up the now disabled reptile and repeated the operation again and again; and having at last satisfied himself that his enemy was dead, he walked off and left it lying on the plain.

"I wouldn't shoot him if I could," said Oscar, who had watched the struggle with the keenest interest. "These birds live almost entirely on poisonous reptiles, but this one's actions prove that he wasn't hungry. He killed that adder just because he hated him and didn't want to have him around. It's too bad to shoot a bird like that, even for scientific purposes. If that fight could be represented in the museum it would be well worth looking at; but I wouldn't skin and stuff that adder for all the money Mr. Adrian is worth. Perhaps I can mount the bird as he appeared when——"

Oscar's soliloquy was interrupted by a most startling incident. While he was following the secretary-bird he had approached within twenty yards of one of the numerous little groves that was scattered over the plain.

When he turned his horse about to watch the fight we have just described his back was toward this grove, from which there now issued, without warning of any kind, an enemy which gave him a fright that he will remember to his dying day.

The first intimation he had of the terrible danger that threatened him was a quick movement on the part of Little Gray, who sprang forward so suddenly that Oscar very narrowly escaped being unhorsed.

As it was his feet were jerked out of the stirrups, and he was thrown over on one side, so that he hung by one leg and by one arm, which he had managed to throw around the horn of his saddle.

If he had lost his hold, or if the saddle had turned with his weight, it would have been all up with Oscar Preston, for almost at the tail of his horse, which was now running at the top of his speed, came one of those dreaded animals he had seen scurrying off through the dust an hour or so before—a buffalo.

This old rogue, having concealed himself in the grove, had doubtless been watching the young hunter ever since he left the wagon, and waiting for him to come within fair charging distance.

He certainly was a vicious-looking brute as he came full tilt after the horse, with his tail in the air and his shaggy head covered with broad, flat horns, lowered close to the ground in readiness to toss both Little Gray and his rider toward the clouds, and to Oscar's frightened eyes he looked as big as an elephant.

"I am afraid I shall never see home again," said Oscar, who wondered how he could think so clearly when every nerve in his body was vibrating with terror. "My strength is all leaving me. I am growing weaker every moment."

It was a most alarming thought, but right on the heels of it came a gleam of hope. His horse was gaining at every jump—very slowly, it is true, for the buffalo, heavy and clumsy-looking as he was, ran at a surprising rate of speed, but still he was gaining.

CHAPTER XX. A COWARDLY AFTER-RIDER.

Oscar kept his pale, scared face turned over his shoulder and his eyes fixed upon the shaggy forehead of the charging buffalo, from which he could not have removed them if he had tried. The fear that he would lose his hold and be gored to death did not cause him to lose his presence of mind; and when he saw that the gallant little nag, to which he clung so desperately, and on which all his hopes of life depended, was steadily widening the gap between him and his fierce pursuer, his strength and courage came back to him, and in an instant he was firmly seated in the saddle, although, as he afterward declared, he could not tell how he got there.

Little Gray astonished and delighted his young master that evening and covered himself with glory. He proved to be very swift, and Oscar was not long in making up his mind that he had nothing to fear.

When he was fully satisfied on this point his alarm gave way to an intense desire to make a specimen of the savage beast that had so nearly been the death of him.

He still carried his double-barrel in his hands—he was somewhat surprised to find it there, and wondered how he had managed to hold fast to it when he so narrowly escaped being thrown from his saddle, and terror had rendered his muscles so weak that he could scarcely sustain his own weight—but the heavy shot with which it was loaded would have made little impression upon the buffalo. They would have added to his fury, but they would not have checked his headlong rush. The only thing Oscar could do was to alarm the camp and obtain McCann's assistance.

The latter was a dead shot with the rifle—at least he had often said he was—and it would be no trouble at all for him to bring the buffalo down at the distance of a hundred yards, even though he were moving at the top of his speed. With these thoughts in his mind Oscar began shouting with all the power of his lungs:

"McCann! McCann! Bring a rifle out here and shoot this buffalo! I wish I could shoot him myself to pay him for the scare he gave me," he added mentally; "but if I ride to the wagon to get a rifle he will be sure to follow me there, and mercy knows what damage he wouldn't do if he got in among the oxen. All I can do is to lead him close enough to the grove to give McCann a fair chance at him. McCann, are you deaf? Bring a rifle out here and shoot this buffalo!"

A few moments later Oscar had the satisfaction of knowing that his wild calls for help had been heard.

The dogs set up a yelp, and came through the grove in a body; but the only man he could see was Big Thompson, who followed close after the pack, carrying a bunch of assegais in his hand.

Excited as he was, Oscar told himself that he had never seen a human being run as that Kaffir did. If he had lived in a civilized country he could have made his fortune on the race-track.

The dogs dashed at the buffalo at once, and quickly diverted his attention from Oscar, who drew up his horse and stopped to see the fight.

The huge beast charged right and left at his nimble assailants, which easily kept out of his way, and during one of these charges he caught Oscar's wind and made another dead set at him.

Little Gray made haste to give him all the room he wanted, and in so doing led the buffalo within a few yards of the edge of the grove in which the Kaffir had taken up his position.

As the game passed him the native threw one of his spears. It flew through the air with surprising force and precision, and, striking the buffalo fairly in the side, buried its head out of sight between his ribs.

"Great Scott!" ejaculated the astonished Oscar, who sat half turned about in the saddle, and left his horse to pick out his own way. "Who would suppose that that man's arm had so much power in it? Where would Paddy O'Brian be now if Thompson had thrown one of those spears at him?"

That the buffalo was severely wounded was evident from the increased fury with which he charged the dogs, which had followed close at his heels.

Seeing that his attention was fully occupied by them, Oscar stopped at a safe distance, and faced about to watch the battle, and to look for McCann, who had not yet made his appearance.

As soon as a favorable opportunity was presented another assegai was launched into the air by the Kaffir's sinewy arm, and, like the first, it found a lodgment in the body of the buffalo, which just then caught Oscar's favorite hunting dog, a huge mastiff, on his horns, and threw him twenty feet high by simply raising his head. When the poor brute came down all the fight was gone out of him—and all the life, too.

"Such work as that won't do!" shouted Oscar, who was trembling all over with excitement. "McCann, why don't you bring out that rifle? Come up closer, Thompson, so that you can have a fair chance at him! Kill him, and I will give you a musket!"

Now a musket is something every native covets. Some of them have been known to travel five hundred miles on foot through the wilderness, every day running the risk of being killed by wild beasts or captured by members of tribes hostile to them, in order to reach the diamond fields, in which they will give a year's labor for a musket worth ten or twelve dollars.

Big Thompson would probably have done the same thing, and thought nothing of it, but he would not take his chances with an enraged buffalo.

He could not be induced to advance more than fifty yards from the shelter of the grove. He wanted to be within reach of the trees, so that he could take refuge in one of them in case the buffalo made a charge upon him.

He hurled two more of his spears with his unerring aim, but they did not seem to have much effect upon the buffalo.

He bellowed with rage and pain, and bled profusely, but continued to fight the dogs with as much spirit as ever.

"I believe I will go after a rifle myself," thought Oscar. "If this battle isn't ended pretty soon I shall lose that buffalo, for it will be as dark as a pocket in ten minutes more. I wonder what is the matter with McCann? He must know what is going on out here."

Talking in this way to himself, Oscar started to ride around the combatants toward the wagon; but no sooner had he put his horse in motion than the buffalo caught sight of him and charged him as viciously as before.

Little Gray set off at his best pace without waiting for the word, and his rider, instead of going toward the wagon, as he had intended to do, directed his course toward the fountain.

Just before he reached it he made a quick turn to the right and galloped down the plain, but the buffalo, which had evidently had enough of the fight, did not follow him; he kept straight ahead.

Harassed at every step by the active dogs, he plunged down the steep bank into the dry bed of the stream, throwing a cloud of sand and gravel into the air, dashed up the opposite incline, and disappeared in the fast gathering darkness. In two minutes more all sounds of the chase had died away in the distance.

"Good-by, buffalo," murmured Oscar, who had once more reined in his horse. "That's what I call provoking. I would willingly have given my best rifle if I could have secured him. There's one thing about it," he added, affectionately patting the neck of his steed, which, with head erect and nostrils dilating, was gazing in the direction in which the game had disappeared, "I shall not be afraid to hunt buffaloes so long as I am on Little Gray's back. If I had only had a rifle instead of a shotgun in my hands I should have had a fine specimen now, for I could have killed him easily enough. Now I'll go and see what McCann has to say for himself."

In no very amiable frame of mind Oscar rode back to the wagon. When he came within sight of it what was his surprise to see his bold after-rider—the dead shot who had killed lions and elephants without number—perched upon the top of the tent, while his driver and fore-loper were snugly ensconced among the branches of a neighboring tree!

He had looked for just such conduct in his Hottentots, for Mr. Donahue and all the rest of his friends had told him that they were the greatest of cowards, but he had expected better things of McCann.

"You are a good one, I must say!" exclaimed Oscar in disgust. "Why didn't you come out there and help me? You had time enough to shoot a dozen buffaloes if you had had any 'get up' about you!"

"I—I didn't know you wanted any help," stammered McCann. "Didn't you tell us to look out for ourselves? I supposed you would come straight to the wagon, and that the buffalo would follow you. That's the reason I got up here."

"Do the words 'Bring a rifle out here and shoot this buffalo' sound like 'Look out for yourselves'?" demanded Oscar angrily. "If you are an old hunter, as you claim to be, you ought to have known that I would not lead a frantic beast like that into camp, to knock the wagon about and gore the oxen and horses! And if you misunderstood me, how does it come that the Kaffir didn't misunderstand me, too? He came out there and helped me all he could with his spears. He didn't kill the buffalo, I am sorry to say, but he showed his good will, and I shall remember him for it. Come down and dish up my supper, and see that Little Gray has an extra measure of mealies. If I wasn't so far away from the settlements I would turn him adrift to-morrow," added Oscar to himself as he dismounted and turned his horse over to the Kaffir, who just then came into camp. "He has not yet earned the fifteen pounds advance I gave him, but I would rather lose that amount of money than have such a coward about me."

"He's getting almost too bossy for a boy," soliloquized McCann as he descended from his perch. "Who would think to look at him that there was so much in him? That was the first buffalo he ever saw, and yet he was as cool as any old hunter. If that is the way he is going to behave I don't want to act as his after-rider, and I won't either, for the first thing I know he will get me into trouble. I think I know a way to make him go back, and if I don't succeed in it I shall desert him. I am not going to risk my life for twenty-five pounds. And if I go I shan't go empty-handed. Mark that, Mr. Preston."

"Say, Thompson!" shouted Oscar from the wagon, "take that as a slight reward for your courage. When you want more let me know. You are the only one among them that has pluck enough to face a mouse."

As Oscar said this he handed out a pound plug of navy tobacco, which the Kaffir received with joyful smiles. The Hottentots looked at it with envious eyes, and even McCann's mouth watered. He had been on half rations almost ever since he left Zurnst.

CHAPTER XXI. AN AFRICAN CONCERT.

Oscar was so disheartened over the loss of the buffalo, and so angry at the boastful McCann for the arrant cowardice he had exhibited, that he did not at all enjoy his supper.

He forced down a few mouthfuls, drank a cup or two of tea, and then went out among the cattle and horses (he now owned four of the latter, having purchased two steady old hunters while he was in Leichtberg) to satisfy himself, by personal examination, that they were securely fastened. Then he looked at the supply of firewood, and having lighted his lantern, climbed into the wagon and devoted himself to his diary.

If McCann could have known what he wrote regarding the part he had played in the exciting scene that had just been enacted he would have felt like going off somewhere and hiding himself.

"I'll fix you to-morrow, my fine fellow!" said Oscar to himself, smiling over the thought that had just then suggested itself to him. "I'll make you prove some of your boasts, or acknowledge yourself to be a coward."

One would think that McCann had already proved himself a coward; but if additional evidence were needed to fully establish that fact, and to prove beyond a doubt that there was no dependence to be placed in him in times of danger, an incident happened that very night which caused the after-rider to show himself up in his true colors.

Just as Oscar closed his diary and arose to put it away in the hanging pocket in which he usually kept it he was startled by a sound that made the cold chill creep all over him. He knew what it was as well as though he had heard it every day of his life. It was the roar of a lion.

It was repeated five or six times, and ended in long-drawn sighs, which grew lower and deeper until they sounded like the mutterings of distant thunder.

This was followed by a sound that almost paralyzed the young hunter—a sound made by something scrambling into the forward end of the wagon.

He turned quickly, fully expecting to see the opening filled by the shaggy head of the terrible king of beasts; but he saw, instead, the pale, almost livid, face of the redoubtable McCann, who was making all haste to seek a place of refuge.

"What do you want in here?" demanded Oscar as soon as he had somewhat recovered himself.

"Didn't you hear that lion?" asked McCann in a trembling voice.

"Having a pair of good ears, I did," answered Oscar. "What of it?"

"Why, he is close to us—within a stone's throw of us!" gasped McCann, looking all around for some little hole to crawl into.

"How do you know that? I haven't lived in Africa as long as you have, but I know that you can't tell where a lion is when you hear his roar. It sounds just as loud and distinct when he is half a mile away as it does when he is only a hundred yards from you."

"I wish this one was a hundred miles away," panted McCann, sinking down behind the fore-chest and trembling violently in every limb. "I told you what would happen if you stayed here; and if you lose all your stock don't blame me for it. Don't you know that the water-hole is only two hundred yards away? He is coming there to drink."

"Well, we can't help it, can we? I say, Mack," exclaimed Oscar, a bright idea striking him, "go out there and shoot him when he comes to drink. You have often done such things, you know; and I will give you an extra twenty-five pounds if you will secure a lion's skin for me to take home with me. I can't do it, for if I should find myself within range of one of those fellows I should be so badly frightened that I couldn't cover him with the sights. You will find one of the Express rifles and plenty of cartridges in that case."

McCann was too badly frightened to reply. Indeed, so abject was his terror that, if Oscar had not been possessed of an extraordinary amount of pluck, some of his after-rider's cowardice would have communicated itself to him.

Even a timid person can keep up some show of courage in times of danger when there are brave men around him, but it takes a man of nerve to present a bold front when in the company of poltroons.

Oscar was not frightened; he was only excited—very highly excited, too—for his hands trembled, and his heart beat audibly, as he took his heaviest rifle from its case and pushed a couple of cartridges in the barrels.

"You are never going to shoot at him?" cried McCann.

"You just let me get a fair sight at him, and see if I don't shoot," was Oscar's reply.

"Then we're all dead men," declared the terrified after-rider. "He'll jump right into the wagon."

"Well, if you didn't want to run such risks why did you come out here?" demanded his employer sternly. "I am not going to lose any of the stock if I can help it. You ought to know that we have nothing to fear from the one whose voice we have just heard, for when a lion means business he doesn't go about warning all the other animals of his approach; he keeps quiet. But there may be others about, you know."

Holding his rifle in his hands, in readiness for a shot, Oscar took his seat on the fore-chest, while McCann groaned and shivered behind it.

The former had scarcely taken up his position when the roar was repeated, apparently nearer than before (the lion is so perfect a ventriloquist that he could not be certain on this point), and it was the signal for a concert the like of which but few hunters have ever listened to.

An answering roar came from the other side of the water-course—a deep-toned roar of defiance. There was an instant's pause, and then a whole chorus of the resounding notes rang out on the night air.

It continued for perhaps half a minute, and when it died away it was answered in just the same manner, proving that the lion whose voice Oscar had first heard was attended by a troop quite as numerous as the one on the other side of the water-course.

No words can describe the effect of these sounds. Many a brave and experienced hunter has been completely demoralized by them.

Oscar's blood went rushing back upon his heart, leaving his face as pale as death itself, and his hair seemed to stand on end.

The natives ceased their conversation and lay down close beside their fire, drawing their skin cloaks over their heads; the horses snorted and trembled with fear; the oxen pulled at the trek-tow; the dogs whined and sought refuge under the wagon, and McCann groaned behind the fore-chest.

"There's nothing to make such a fuss about," said Oscar, who knew that he might as well turn about and go back to the coast as to show the white feather in the presence of his men. "Two strange troops of lions are approaching the water-hole from different directions, and they are daring one another to come on—that's all. You had better go out and mend your fires."

"Eh? I wouldn't go out there for all the money there is in Africa," replied McCann in a scarcely audible voice.

Seeing very plainly that there was nothing to be expected of the after-rider, for that night at least, Oscar laid down his rifle, and was about to step upon the dissel-boom, intending to go out and replenish the fires himself, when something happened that proved almost too much for his courage.

The roars of defiance had all this while grown louder and fiercer, and the way in which the kingly beasts challenged one another when they arrived on opposite sides of the fountain was simply terrific.

They kept this up for a minute or two, and finally some of the boldest and angriest of them came together.

A terrible battle ensued, and Oscar could not tell whether there were two or a dozen engaged in it. He knew that they did not all take part, for he could hear some of them roaring with all the power of their lungs, as if they hoped in that way to encourage their respective champions to greater exertions.

The hubbub they raised was altogether too much for the nerve of the Hottentots, who suddenly jumped up from behind the fence of thorn bushes they had built around their fire, and ran toward the wagon, chattering like monkeys.

"Keep out of here," said Oscar sternly. "Go back and throw on more wood."

The Hottentots disappeared as if by magic, and Oscar, holding fast with both hands to his heavy rifle, which had more than once been on the point of slipping out of his grasp, stood on the fore-chest and listened to the noise of the combat.

He strained his eyes, trying to peer through the darkness to obtain a glimpse of the contestants, but all in vain. The banks of the water-course in which the fight was carried on were high, and there were several trees between him and the fountain.

But even if the battle had taken place on the open plain he could not have witnessed it, for the color of the lion's hair renders him invisible in the dark. Mr. Lawrence had told him that, on more than one occasion, while he was watching a fountain at night, he had heard a lion loudly lapping the water within twenty feet of him, and yet he could not see him.

Oscar was recalled to himself by the actions of the Kaffir, who, having mended his own fire, had taken up a blazing brand in each hand, and started out to replenish the others. He was so cool, and went about his work so deliberately, that Oscar regained his courage while he looked at him.

Taking his rifle with him, so as to be ready for any emergency, Oscar hastened to the Kaffir's assistance; and in a few minutes more all the fires were burning brightly.

When he returned to the wagon the fight was over, the lions had ceased their roaring, and everything was quiet.

"I'll just tell you what's a fact," soliloquized Oscar as he seated himself on the fore-chest and laid his rifle across his knees. "Hearing a lion roar in a menagerie, when he is safe behind iron bars, and hearing a dozen or more of them give tongue here in the wilds of Africa, where there is literally nothing to protect you from their fury if they take a notion to pitch into you, are two widely different things. I never want to listen to another concert like that as long as I live. I have no ear for such music."

He took off his cap and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. The exciting ordeal through which he had passed had brought the perspiration out all over him.

CHAPTER XXII. WHAT McCANN DID.

There was little sleeping done in the camp that night. McCann kept his place behind the fore-chest, the Hottentots never showed themselves or made their whereabouts known, and the young hunter and his Kaffir interpreter stood guard, kept the fires blazing, and listened to the noise made by the animals that were constantly going to and from the fountain. There seemed to be no end to them.

If there were any faith to be placed in one's sense of hearing, Oscar had seen but a very small portion of the game that inhabited that section of the country. Sometimes the noise made by their hoofs continued for ten minutes at a time without the least interruption.

After the lions had finished their battle and quenched their thirst there was quiet for an hour, and then the other animals began coming in.

First came the small antelopes, then the larger ones, such as the wilde-beests, elands, and harte-beests; then the zebras, quaggas, and buffaloes; and if there had been an elephant or a rhinoceros in the neighborhood he would have come last.

The hour selected by the lion depends entirely upon circumstances. If the moon rises late he comes to the fountain soon after dark; and if it rises early he postpones his visit until near morning, unless he has had a hearty supper, and then he drinks whenever he happens to feel thirsty.

While Oscar was listening, and wishing it was daylight, so that he could see the immense herds that were constantly passing by within less than two hundred yards of his wagon, he was treated to another contest.

It did not frighten him as the first one did, for he knew that the animals which engaged in it were not much to be feared; still it made him nervous and timid, it was so wild and unearthly. It sounded, for all the world, as though a dozen or so demented persons were joining in a hearty laugh over something.

It was enough to try anyone's nerves, and it was no wonder that the terror-stricken after-rider drew himself into a smaller compass behind the fore-chest, and cried out that another such night would be the death of him.

"There's nothing to whine over," said Oscar. "A pack of laughing hyenas have found poor Major's body—that's all."

Major was the name of the mastiff that had been killed by the buffalo.

"Yes, and after they get through with him they may take it into their heads to see what there is under the wagon," replied McCann.

"Let them come," said Oscar. "These fires throw out a good deal of light, and I'll knock over the first one I can draw a bead on. But look here, Mack. You have heard all these sounds before, and how does it come that they have such an effect on you to-night? They scare you more than they do me."

"The reason is just this," answered McCann: "The trading expeditions I have accompanied through here have never consisted of less than four or five wagons, and sometimes we have had as many as twenty men with us. The lion will not bother such a crowd as that if he is left alone. If anything happens to-night there are only two of us to do the fighting."

"And who are they?" asked the young hunter.

"Why, you and me, of course. Who else is there? Big Thompson couldn't do anything with his little spears, even if he had the courage to face a lion; the Hottentots would take to the nearest trees, and——"

McCann paused, and Oscar finished the sentence for him by saying:

"You would climb to the top of the wagon, leaving me to get out of the scrape the best way I could."

Oscar put his feet upon the fore-chest, leaned back against the arches that supported the tent, and, although he did not expect to close his eyes in slumber, he was fast asleep in a very few minutes.

He awoke at daylight, and found his servants already astir. The Hottentots had turned up safe and sound, and were watering the stock at the fountain; the Kaffir was busy at one of the fires, cooking their breakfast and his own; and McCann, having dished up a frugal meal for his employer, was on the point of calling him, when Oscar stepped down from the dissel-boom, with a towel and a piece of soap in his hand.

The boy looked at his after-rider in great surprise. The exciting events of the night must have had a terrible effect upon his nerves, for he seemed to have grown ten years older since the sun went down. He was pale and haggard, his eyelids drooped, and he moved as though he had scarcely strength enough left to stand upon his feet.

"What's the matter, Mack?" asked Oscar cheerfully. "Did the concerts to which we listened last night scare all the life out of you?"

"Oh, no, sir!" replied the man, who was bolder now that it was daylight and the lions were gone. "I am going to have rheumatic fever, I am afraid."

"That's bad," said Oscar; but still there was not much sympathy in his tones. He shrewdly suspected that the only thing that troubled his after-rider was an utter lack of courage, and that he was feigning sickness for some purpose of his own. "Hadn't you better take something for it? You know where the medicine-chest is. I suppose you can't go with me to follow up the spoor of that buffalo Big Thompson wounded yesterday?"

"Indeed, I can't," replied McCann in a weak voice. "I couldn't sit in the saddle for half an hour to save my life. It will be no use for you to follow up the spoor, for you will find nothing but bones when you get to the end of it. The lions, hyenas, and jackals have made a meal of him before this time."

"I suppose they have; but we may find some beast which has not yet satisfied his appetite hanging around the carcass, you know," said Oscar as he kneeled on the ground and plunged his head into the water-bucket that served him as a wash-basin.

That was just what McCann was afraid of, and it was one reason why he did not want to go with his employer when the latter left the camp to follow up the spoor; but, of course, he did not say so.

"As soon as the cattle come up put the saddles on Little Gray and Leichtberg, and tell Thompson that I want him to go with me to act as trailer and after-rider," said Oscar, drawing his head out of the bucket long enough to take breath. "Tell him, also, to put ropes and collars on Ralph and Rover. We will take them with us and leave the rest of the pack in camp."

Leichtberg was the name of one of Oscar's new horses, and Ralph and Rover were the two deer-hounds which had been presented to him by Mr. Lawrence.

Oscar had noticed that these high-toned animals would not hunt well when in company with the other members of the pack, and he wanted to see what they could do by themselves.

"I want to get away from here as soon as I can, and consequently I must improve every hour. By this time next week we shall be fifty miles deeper in the wilderness," said Oscar as his head went down into the bucket again.

McCann, who was quite well enough to obey these orders, walked off toward the Kaffir's fire, muttering to himself:

"Here's one who won't be fifty miles deeper in the wilderness by a week from to-day. I don't think you will go any further, either; but if you do you will find me missing on the morning you get ready to start. Mind that!"

Big Thompson, whose courage was equal to McCann's cowardice, made all haste to carry out his employer's instructions, working to such good purpose that by the time Oscar had finished his breakfast the horses he had named were saddled and waiting, the two deer-hounds had been put in the leash, and the rest of the pack were tied under the wagon.

Having provided the Kaffir with one of his best rifles and a belt full of ammunition, Oscar armed and equipped himself and then mounted Little Gray.

"Now, Mack," said he, "as soon as you have eaten your breakfast set to work with the Hottentots and gather a good supply of firewood. Heap it up as high as the wagon if you want to, for what we don't burn to-night we can burn some other night, you know."

McCann promised obedience, and Oscar and the Kaffir rode away.

The man watched them as they passed the fountain and ascended the opposite bank of the water-course, and when they disappeared from his view he arose from the camp-chair in which he had been sitting, with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his hands.

He did not look or act much like a sick man now. His step was light and quick, his eyes were wide open, and there was a smile of triumph on his face.

"I've had about enough of this," said he as he placed his foot on the dissel-boom. "I ought never to have come out here with that boy, for I ought to have known that he hadn't sense enough to keep him out of trouble. I never would have come with him, either, if I had had any idea that he had so much determination. I was sure I could frighten him and make him turn back; but since I can't do that I can do the next best thing."

McCann climbed into the wagon and began rummaging about in the hanging pockets.

The first contained towels, soap, a brush and comb, and other toilet articles; but they were not the things McCann wanted to find. Neither did he take two looks at the writing materials in the second, or the old newspapers in the third; but when he came to the fourth he uttered an exclamation, indicative of the greatest satisfaction.

Plunging his hand into it, he drew out a large brown envelope, which he had seen so often that he recognized it at once as the article he was in search of.

He opened it and took out a folded paper, on which was traced, in inks of different colors, a neat and comprehensive map of the country beyond Zurnst.

The red line showed the route Mr. Lawrence had pursued when he was on his last hunting expedition, the blue pointed out the position of the mountains on each side of the track, and the black dots indicated where the best water and camping grounds were to be found.

"This thing has stood in my way long enough," said McCann as he replaced the map and deliberately tore it and the envelope into four pieces. "If he hadn't had this in his possession I could have lost him on the plain and made him turn back before he had left Zurnst a week's journey behind him; but every time I tried to draw him out of his course this map always set him right. He'll not consult it any more, I bet you! He'll miss it, of course, but he'll think he lost it somewhere along the route. I shall see home again in less than two months, and then Mr. Preston will fork over the balance of my twenty-five pounds, or I'll have him up before a magistrate."

Talking in this way to himself, McCann got out of the wagon, and walking up to the nearest fire threw the map into the flames; and then, without waiting to see what became of it, he took possession of his employer's chair and proceeded to eat a hearty breakfast.

It might have interested him somewhat to know that, of the four pieces into which he had torn the map, only three were consumed, the other being caught by the wind just as it was about to drop into the coals, and carried out into the grove.

It remained there a day or so, moving about from point to point under the influence of every little breeze that struck it, and finally it was blown out upon the plain, from which it returned most unexpectedly to confront McCann with proofs of his guilt.

CHAPTER XXIII. THE SENTINEL KOODOO.

When Oscar reached the fountain he was surprised to find no traces of the terrible conflict that had taken place there the night before. He knew it was no uncommon thing for a fight like that to terminate only with the death of one of the combatants, and he could not understand how two animals, as strong and active as lions were, could struggle so long and desperately without leaving at least a few drops of blood behind them to testify to the severity of the contest in which they had been engaged. But Oscar could discover none, and in fact he could see nothing to indicate that there had been any game about the fountain during the night, for the hoofs of the horses and oxen had obliterated all the tracks.

The hounds, however, knew that some of the fleet-footed antelopes they had so often followed had been there, for their noses told them so, and, well trained as they were, it was all the stout Kaffir could do to control them.

Having looked about the fountain to his satisfaction, Oscar told the Kaffir to go ahead, and the latter, still holding the hounds in the leash, at once set off in the direction in which the wounded buffalo had disappeared.

There was no spoor to follow at this point that Oscar could see, for the plain was literally covered with hoof-prints, and it did not seem possible that the most expert trailer could distinguish the prints of the buffalo's feet from among so many. But the Kaffir, who seemed to know just what he was about, was never once at fault. He led the way at a rapid pace, passing around the outskirts of several little groves of mimosa trees and thickets of thorn bushes, at which Oscar looked suspiciously, telling himself the while what splendid hiding-places they would make for any angry buffalo or hungry beast of prey which might feel inclined to dispute their further advance, and after he had gone about three miles he suddenly stopped his horse and pointed silently before him.

Oscar looked and saw something lying on the ground a short distance away. He rode up to it, and found that it was the carcass of the buffalo. The head, crowned with the formidable-looking horns, but stripped bare of flesh, some of the larger bones, and a few tufts of hair were all that were left of the terrible beast that had come so near ending his career as a hunter.

The Kaffir dismounted to secure the heads of his spears, which had been broken from the shafts, while the hounds, detecting the recent presence of the fierce carnivora that had feasted there, raised the bristles on the back of their necks and showed their white teeth in the most savage manner.

"Well, Thompson, those little spears of yours did some damage, after all, didn't they?" said Oscar. "Our buffalo fell when he reached this spot, and the lions made a meal of him. I was in hopes they would leave the head alone. It wouldn't have looked bad over one of the doors of the museum if it were well set up. I don't suppose there is any such thing—— Hallo!"

Oscar threw the sling of his double-barrel over his arm, allowing the weapon to drop down by the side of his horse, and hastily drawing his field-glass from its case, brought it to bear upon a distant object that had attracted his attention.

On the summit of a rocky hill, quite a mile and a half away, was something that might have been taken by an inexperienced hunter for a stump or a clump of bushes, but to Oscar's eyes it looked like an animal. It was an animal, too; and just as Oscar raised his glass to his eyes it moved, presenting its broadside, and giving him a fair view of it.

The young hunter had never seen anything like it before, but he knew in a moment what it was. The long, twisted horns, the thin, spare mane on the neck, the long hair on the chin, throat, and breast, the narrow bands of white descending from the back and passing obliquely down the sides and over the hips, all of which could be plainly seen by the aid of the powerful field-glass, told Oscar that the animal was a koodoo—one of the largest, bravest, and most pugnacious antelopes in Africa.

The position he occupied, and the attitude he assumed, standing, as he did, on the top of the highest hill he could find, with his head turned toward the hunters, whose presence he had already detected, proved that he was a sentinel. Beyond a doubt there were others of the same species feeding on the other side of the hill, and this old fellow was keeping watch over them. When Oscar lowered his glass the Kaffir grinned and nodded his head, at the same time pointing toward the sentinel with one hand, while with the other he raised his rifle as if he were about to shoot at him.

"That is just what I want to do," said Oscar, who readily caught the meaning of this pantomime. "Lead on and show me how to do it. I know I've got to creep up on him, and I want to get as close to him as I can before I begin."

In obedience to this command the native mounted his horse and rode away, still holding fast to the hounds, which trotted along by his side. He did not go toward the antelope, but moved off in another direction, holding his way over the treeless plain, upon which the sun was now beating down with the most intense fury. The sentinel koodoo was evidently very much interested in their movements, for Oscar could see that he kept close watch over them.

Oscar knew that he had undertaken something that would test his skill as a hunter to the utmost. There is not an animal that roams the African plains that is harder to bring to bag than the koodoo. It makes little difference to him whether he fights or runs. He does one about as well as he does the other, and it is not an easy task to beat him at either.

When pursued on horseback he will make for the rockiest and most uneven ground he knows of, and it is seldom that he allows the hunter to be brought within fair shooting distance of him. If hard pressed he will dive into a thicket of thorn bushes where a horseman cannot follow him, and if brought to bay by the dogs he will kill them as fast as they come to him, should they chance to be scattered in the chase so that they cannot all attack him at once.

His immense strength (he stands more than four feet in height at the shoulders, and is heavily built), his great courage and determination, his sharp horns, which he uses with as much skill as a fencing-master exhibits in handling his foils, make him the most formidable of the antelope tribe. The most successful as well as the most sportsmanlike way of hunting them is by stalking; and in this way Oscar hoped to be able to secure that sentinel koodoo.

Big Thompson led his employer straight ahead until they had placed a range of high hills between themselves and the koodoo, under cover of which he hoped to bring Oscar within short stalking distance of the game. Having marked well the hill on which the sentinel had been seen, he kept on until he thought he had reached a point opposite to it, and then he reined in his horse and looked at the boy. Oscar, who understood what he meant, handed him his reins and dismounted.

"Now, Thompson," said he, "keep your ears open, and when you hear me shoot, turn the dogs loose and come on at your best pace."

A short run over a rocky piece of ground brought Oscar to the foot of one of the hills that composed the range of which we have spoken. There he stopped to take note of the direction of the wind, and to put to practical use one of the hunters' devices of which he had heard while he was on the plains.

He pulled up several handfuls of weeds and grass, and tied them around the crown of his hat in such a way that, when placed on the ground and viewed at the distance of fifteen or twenty steps, his head-piece looked like a luxuriant tuft of herbage that had been stepped on by something or somebody.

"I don't think that sentinel will suspect anything when he sees that," thought Oscar as he placed the hat on his head, picked up his rifle, and made his way toward the top of the hill on his hands and knees. "If it will work in America with so shy an animal as the pronghorn, as I have been assured it will, I do not see why it will not be equally successful here in Africa with a koodoo."

When Oscar reached the top of the hill he found that he was not mistaken in the opinion he had formed when he first caught sight of the sentinel buck. The old fellow still kept his position and stood gazing steadily in the direction in which he had seen Oscar and his after-rider disappear, and near the base of the hill that served him for a lookout station were the rest of the herd—a dozen of them in all—feeding in perfect security, knowing that their sharp-eyed and keen-scented guard would give them due notice of the approach of danger. Oscar could see them all without the aid of his field-glass, although they were fully half a mile away.

If the ground had been level the bare thought of stalking the koodoo under that broiling sun would have been enough to discourage Oscar; but fortunately it was cut up into deep gullies and ravines and covered with hummocks and boulders, which afforded him every opportunity for concealment. He was to leeward of the herd, too, and that was another thing that was in his favor.

"I wouldn't take fifty dollars for my chance of bagging that buck," thought Oscar as he crawled slowly through the grass, keeping his eyes fastened upon the sentinel. "He is looking the wrong way."

Before this thought had fairly been formed in the young hunter's mind the buck faced about and turned his head in Oscar's direction. He seemed to be looking straight at the young hunter, and to suspect something also, for now and then he raised one of his fore feet and stamped it spitefully on the ground.

CHAPTER XXIV. THE BATTLE IN THE GROVE.

No one but the most enthusiastic hunter would be willing to pass through what Oscar did that day just for the sake of procuring a rare specimen of natural history. He was half an hour in getting over the brow of the first hill, and three hours more in coming within fair shooting distance of the koodoos.

For thirty long minutes he lay there in the broiling sun, scarcely daring to move a muscle, for the buck, whose suspicions had been aroused by the sudden disappearance of the hunters, was constantly moving about in a circle, as if he wanted to keep his head turned toward all points of the compass at once.

Oscar began to grow thirsty and dizzy. His rifle-barrel felt as though it had just come out of the fire, and his hands began to burn as if they were blistered.

Stalking game in Africa was very different from stalking game in the foot-hills when the snow was a foot deep on the ground, and more than once Oscar was on the point of giving up in despair; but knowing that one cannot be a successful hunter until he has learned to wait, and to wait patiently, and that if he ever succeeded in shooting a koodoo it would be by going through an ordeal just like the present, he endured the broiling with as much fortitude as he could; and when at last the sentinel turned his head away from him, and kept it turned away for a moment longer than usual, he wormed his way rapidly over the hill and threw himself, panting and almost exhausted, under the shade of a friendly boulder.

"My goodness!" exclaimed Oscar, pulling off his hat and fanning his flushed face vigorously; "this is more than I bargained for. My brains, if I have any, were never intended to stand such a baking. I'd give something now for a good drink from the brook that ran through the valley in which Big Thompson and I camped while we were among the foot-hills."

Oscar lay under the shade of the boulder for a quarter of an hour, and then, fearing that the koodoos might wander away out of sight, or become alarmed at something and run off, he picked up his rifle—which seemed to have increased wonderfully in weight since he first shouldered it that morning—and continued his weary stalk.

When he reached the top of the next hill he found the sentinel as alert and uneasy as ever, but his erratic movements did not embarrass Oscar now as they did a little while before, for he managed to place a big rock between himself and the buck, and under cover of it he made more rapid progress.

Still the sun was hot and the stalking difficult, and when, at last, the young hunter arrived within easy range of the game and laid his rifle carefully over the top of the boulder behind which he had crept for concealment, he was so nearly overcome with heat and weariness that he trembled all over, and it was a long time before he could hold his heavy weapon steady.

"I'll make sure work of you, my vigilant friend," said Oscar to himself as he cocked both barrels of his rifle and drew a fine sight on the sentinel's shoulder. "If I can have the satisfaction of setting you up I shall be in some measure repaid for this day's experience, which is about the toughest I have had yet."

The rifle cracked, the bullet flew true to its aim, and the sentinel koodoo fell dead in his tracks. Without waiting to see the effect of his shot—for he was sure he had made a good one—Oscar turned his rifle toward the other members of the herd, which had huddled together just as our prong-horns do when they become alarmed and cannot make up their minds where to look for the danger that threatens them. Taking a quick aim at the largest buck, he fired his second barrel at it, and made another good shot—at least he thought so at first, for when the smoke cleared away he saw the buck struggling on the ground.

A minute later, however, he succeeded in regaining his feet and ran after the rest of the herd, which were stepping out at their best pace for the nearest grove, clearing all the obstacles that lay in their path with the most surprising agility. Having put fresh cartridges into his rifle, Oscar lay down under the boulder to await the coming of Big Thompson with the dogs. Impatient as he was to make a close examination of his prize, he could not go to him just then.

The excitement of the hunt being over, he became sensible of the fact that he had done a good deal of hard work, and that he was very tired and tormented with a raging thirst. Having always been so situated that he could seek the shelter of his tent during the heat of the day, he had never before realized how intensely hot the afternoon sun was at meridian. Even the artificial breeze he raised with his hat, which he had stripped of its covering of weeds and grass, did not afford him any relief, for it felt like the blast of a furnace.

When the hounds came up Oscar led them across the intervening gully and put them upon the trail of the koodoos. They took up the scent at once, and followed it at a rate of speed that seemed to argue well for the ultimate capture of the wounded member of the herd. In a few minutes they were out of sight in the grove, and just then Big Thompson galloped up, leading Oscar's horse.

"I've got one of them, sure; there he is, and I want you to take him in front of you on your horse, and go with me in pursuit of the one I have wounded," said Oscar as he sprang upon Little Gray's back. "I must have both of them, for I am resolved that I'll never again hunt koodoos, or anything else, in the middle of the day."

Although Oscar had often read about koodoos and heard them described more times than he could remember, he was by no means prepared to see what he did see when he rode up to his prize. The buck looked more like a small ox than an antelope, and Oscar saw at a glance that his work was not yet finished. It was plain that the Kaffir's horse could not carry him, even if they had muscle enough between them to put him on the animal's back.

"I must either skin him right here, in this hot sun, or else set my wits at work and think up some way to get him to the wagon without dragging him on the ground," said Oscar in deep perplexity. "Thompson, you stay here and keep the vultures off, and I will go and see what has become of the other one. When I come back I shall have to go to camp."

So saying, Oscar put Little Gray to the top of his speed and rode toward the grove, in which both koodoos and hounds had disappeared but a few minutes before. As he drew near to it he became aware that there was something going on in there. He heard the bleating of the koodoos, mingled with a chorus of barks, growls, and whines, the like of which he had never heard two dogs utter before. If his whole pack had been in there baying the koodoos they could not have created a greater uproar.

"They've got him!" said Oscar gleefully as he threw himself from his horse and pulled the reins over his head, so that the animal would step on them and check himself if he attempted to stray away during his master's absence. "If I don't make haste they'll tear him all to pieces. What was that? I declare, he has given one of them a prod with his horns!"

Just then a piercing howl of pain came from the gloomy depths of the grove, bearing testimony to the fact that one of the hounds had been severely wounded. With it came other sounds that ought to have made Oscar very cautious, but in his excitement he did not hear them. The only thought in his mind was that there was a desperate fight going on in the thorn bushes, a short distance away, between the wounded antelope and the hounds, and that, if he did not put in an appearance and bring it to a speedy close, the koodoo would kill both his dogs, or else the dogs would kill the koodoo and tear his skin, so that one of his prizes, for which he had worked so hard, would be useless as a specimen.

Holding his rifle in one hand and parting the bushes before his face with the other, Oscar worked his way into the grove, making as little noise as possible, for fear that the koodoo would make off if he became aware that the dogs he was so gallantly fighting were about to receive assistance. Louder grew the noise of the conflict as the young hunter drew nearer to the combatants, and now he noticed that he could hear the baying of but one dog, and that the koodoo, having ceased his bleating, was giving utterance to very strange sounds. They resembled——

"Great Scott!" ejaculated Oscar.

For a moment his heart stood still and his hand trembled, like a leaf shaken by the wind. Just then he reached the edge of the thicket, and saw, in a little open space before him, the battle-ground and all the animals that had taken part in the struggle.

There were seven of them—three that would never do battle again, and four that were still alive and full of fight. The dead ones were Rover, who was so badly torn that he might have been taken for almost anything except a Scotch deer-hound, the koodoo, and an immense spotted hyena, which was impaled upon its powerful horns. In falling the buck had pinned his antagonist to the ground in such a way that he could not release himself, and the two had died there together.

The survivors of the fight were three other hyenas, which were ravenously devouring the antelope, and Ralph, who, unharmed and angry, bounded lightly about them, nimbly eluding the savage dashes they made at him, and protesting with all his might against such a desecration of his master's property. It was a most unexpected sight, and Oscar was so surprised and startled by it that, for a moment, he did not know whether to stand his ground or take to his heels.

CHAPTER XXV. MORE SPECIMENS.

"I am afraid I shall never win much of a reputation as an African hunter," was the first thought that passed through Oscar Preston's mind after he had recovered from his astonishment and alarm. "The longer I stay here the less I seem to know about things. I heard those hyenas laughing very plainly—as plainly as I did last night, when they found poor Major's body—and yet I was foolish enough to think that the noise was made by the koodoo."

The bushes were so thick and Oscar's approach had been accompanied by so little noise that the hyenas had neither seen nor heard him. They did not see or hear him now as he cocked both barrels of his rifle and raised it to his shoulder, for each one of them was too fully engrossed with a desire to obtain his full share of the antelope and to keep off the hound, which showed a disposition to bite any hind leg that was for a moment exposed to his attacks.

Covering the head of the largest hyena with the sight, Oscar sent a bullet crashing through his brain, whereupon the others incontinently took to their heels, and were out of sight before the young hunter could get a chance to put in the second barrel.

Have you ever noticed how great a commotion so small an animal as a squirrel can make among the dead leaves when he has been brought down from his lofty perch by a bullet through the head? If so you can have a very faint idea of the rumpus that hyena kicked up in that thicket of thorn bushes. He was all over the ground in two seconds' time, and the way he threw the dirt, leaves, and twigs about made Oscar wonder. His head hung down as though he had lost all control over it, but his legs seemed to retain all their strength, and when he landed fairly on his feet, as he did two or three times during his convulsive struggles, he bounded into the air as if he were made of india-rubber.

After trying in vain to call off the hound, which ran about, watching for an opportunity to lay hold of the wounded animal, Oscar sent the contents of his second barrel into his body, and that ended the matter. Having reloaded his rifle, the young hunter stepped out of his place of concealment to take a nearer view of the battle-field. The koodoo was worthless as a specimen, but the head was uninjured, and that Oscar resolved should be preserved and taken to Yarmouth with him. It would afford him great pleasure, he thought, to call the attention of those who visited the museum to the long spiral horns, and then to show them the savage beast which the buck that once carried those horns had killed while battling for his life.

The hyenas had doubtless attacked the antelope when he first entered the grove; and when the hounds came up and interfered with them the fierce animals resented their impertinence by killing the first one that came within reach of their claws.

Oscar had become very much attached to his hounds and he felt Rover's loss very keenly. Although he had never had much opportunity to hunt with them, he had placed great confidence in them, on the strength of Mr. Lawrence's recommendation, and now he felt as if he had lost one of his main props.

He had often thought that when he went back to Eaton, after setting up in the museum all the specimens he had shot in Africa, and settled down under his own vine and fig tree to take a well-earned rest after his arduous labors, it would be very pleasant to have some of the four-footed friends who had shared his perils by his side to enjoy that rest with him. But Major and Rover were dead, and there was only one decent member of his party left. That was Ralph, and his turn might come any day.

Oscar had straightened out the hyena he had shot and took a good look at him. He was the oddest-looking beast the boy ever saw, and he told himself that for once Nature had made a mistake, and joined together a part of two different animals. The shoulders were high and strong, the fore legs long and massive, and the hind legs were small and weak by comparison; but that they were fully capable of doing their share of work was shown by the manner in which they had assisted those heavy shoulders to bound into the air when Oscar's bullet was sped on its deadly errand.

Having examined his prizes, Oscar called his dog to heel, hurried back to the horse, and rode at full speed toward the place where he had left his after-rider. It is one thing to shoot game in Africa, and another thing to save it after it is shot, and Oscar knew that he must act promptly if he wished to secure the fruits of his day's toil.

"Ralph," said he, when he reined in his horse by the side of the one on which the Kaffir was mounted, "lie down there and watch that buck. Thompson, come with me."

Ralph would have been willing to obey this command if Rover had been there to keep him company; but he did not want to stay there by himself, and when Oscar and Big Thompson rode away he went after them.

Of course that would never do. There must be a guard of some kind left with the buck, or the vultures, which were now circling around the hill and settling on the trees in the nearest grove, would gather to the feast before the hunters were two hundred yards away, and by the time they returned there would be another fine specimen ruined. After thinking a moment Oscar dismounted, and making one end of a hitching strap fast around the hound's neck, tied the other to one of the buck's horns.

"There!" said he as he galloped away with his after-rider. "The koodoo is safe from the vultures; but whether or not the hound is entirely safe I don't know. There's no telling how many fierce animals there may be hidden away in that grove, watching our movements. Hurry up, Thompson! We've lots of work to do, and it will be dark before we reach the wagon."

Oscar's next care was to make sure of the trophies he had left in the grove, and that could only be done by carrying them through the thorn bushes and transporting them on the backs of the horses to the top of the hill on which the sentinel buck was lying. It was absolutely necessary that the game should all be gathered together in one place, so that the Kaffir could keep watch over it while his employer went back to camp, for if any portion of it were left alone for a quarter of an hour, Oscar might not be able to find it again when he wanted it. The thorn bushes in the grove were thick, the koodoo's head and the hyenas were heavy, the horses restive and very much opposed to carrying their burdens after they had been placed on their backs—in short, Oscar and his man were hindered in their operations in so many different ways that it was fully two hours before their spoils had been transferred from the grove to the top of the hill.

During all this time Ralph had kept up such a constant howling that it was a wonder he had not brought an enemy of some sort to him. He was glad to be released, and ran gayly in advance of his master, who galloped off toward the wagon, taking the after-rider's horse with him.

He had no difficulty in finding his way, for when he came out in the morning he had not neglected to face about in his saddle and look behind him occasionally, and in this way he had made himself acquainted with all the principal landmarks. Oscar did not stop to give his horses water at the fountain, although they were sadly in need of it (so was he, for the matter of that), but rode at once to the wagon, and found McCann and his Hottentots engaged in earnest conversation. He would have thought nothing of it had it not been for the manner in which they acted when they saw him coming. They separated immediately, walking off in different directions, and that was enough to arouse Oscar's suspicions.

"They are hatching up some mischief," said the young hunter to himself; "and that cowardly McCann is at the bottom of it, whatever it may be, I'll be bound. I wish I had never seen that fellow, for he isn't worth the salt he eats on his meat. Here, Mack!" he shouted. "Put the saddles on the other horses, and take these down to the fountain. Bring back a bucket of water when you come. Ferguson, go out and drive in Hautzman; and, Johnson, you lend a hand here—I want you for the rest of the day."

Oscar seized an axe and hurried into the grove, followed by his fore-loper. Selecting a couple of saplings about fifteen feet in height, he ordered the Hottentot to cut them down and drag them to the fire, after stripping off their branches; and having set all his men at work, he hastened back to the wagon, and began rummaging about for something to eat.

How often, while he was thus engaged, did he think of his mother's clean, cool pantry! He had made it a point to visit that pantry regularly every night when he came from school, tired and hungry, and he was sure to find there a bowl of milk that had just been brought from the spring-house, and a generous slice of brown bread and butter beside it.

But there were no such luxuries to be had here. He found a little cold meat and about half a pint of tea that McCann had left in the pot, and with these and a piece of hardtack he was obliged to be content.

CHAPTER XXVI. A CALL FROM A HONEY-BIRD.

By the time Oscar had eaten his lunch the driver came up with Hautzman—a steady old ox, which showed a great partiality for hardtack and sugar, and had become so gentle from being often regaled with these delicacies that he had learned to answer to his name and to follow his master about like a dog.

"Now, Ferguson," said Oscar, as he stepped out of the wagon with a coil of rope in one hand and some sugar in the other, "look alive, for this fellow has six miles to travel between this time and dark. Tie a leading rheim around his horns and hold him while I fix the harness."

The harness was a very primitive affair, and did not require a great deal of fixing. It was simply a surcingle, and a breast-band to keep it from slipping back out of its place. To the ends of this breast-band were fastened the small ends of the saplings, which the fore-loper brought up by the time the harness was finished.

The larger ends, which were to trail on the ground, were kept from spreading by two braces, which were securely lashed to them about five feet apart.

The intervening space was filled up with a network of ropes which passed from one brace to the other, and when the contrivance was finished Oscar had a drag that would sustain a much heavier weight than he intended to bring home on it.

He knew that Hautzman would be willing to draw it out to the hill on which he had left his specimens, but whether or not he would draw it back after it was loaded was "another and a deeper question." It was quite possible that he might take a notion to run away when he saw the hyenas.

By the time Oscar was ready to start McCann returned from the fountain, bringing with him a bucket of water. Seeing that he looked curiously at the drag, the boy said:

"I caught the idea from the Indians I saw about Julesburg, but I have added a few improvements of my own. I've got a koodoo, a koodoo's head, and two hyenas to bring back on it. I can't stop now to tell you how I got them, for I must be off so that I can get back before dark. Have some tea ready for me—I will bring the steaks when I come—and keep your ears open for signal guns. Go on, Johnson, and make him walk as fast as you can."

Thirsty as he was Oscar drank sparingly of the water McCann had brought from the fountain, after which he filled his canteen, sprang upon one of his fresh horses, and rode off, leading the other.

He overtook the fore-loper in a few minutes, and then they jogged along side by side at a snail's pace.

It takes a good while for a slow-walking ox to go three miles, and consequently much time was consumed on the march.

But it was ended at last, and, contrary to his expectations, old Hautzman behaved with the greatest propriety.

He did not draw back or even hesitate when the fore-loper led him up to the place where the specimens were lying.

He pointed one of his long horns at the dead hyenas, glared at them out of the corner of his eye and bellowed defiantly, but that was all.

After refreshing themselves with a drink of water—which tasted as though it had been over a slow fire all day—Oscar and the Kaffir set to work to load the drag, Johnson holding fast to the leading rheim.

In ten minutes the work was done, and the return march began. It was growing cooler now, and Hautzman, heavily loaded as he was, walked faster than he did coming out.

It was scarcely dark when they came within sight of the grove in which the camp was located, but McCann was evidently frightened, for the sun had not been long out of sight behind the hills before he began firing signal guns.

Oscar answered him occasionally, but that did not seem to satisfy McCann. He was so very much afraid that his employer might lose his way on the plain, and leave him to pass the night alone among the lions, that he shot off a good many rounds of fixed ammunition that might have been put to a better use. He had tea ready, and Oscar was not long in handing over the steaks.

The boy was tired, for it was a long time since he had spent so many hours in hunting (even while he was shooting in company with Mr. Lawrence he had always rested during the heat of the day); but there was no sleep for him until his specimens had been made ready for mounting.

His men watched all his movements with the greatest interest, and Oscar became so deeply engrossed with his work that he paid scarcely any attention to the roaring of the lions and the laughing of the hyenas.

McCann did, however. When the first muffled roar reverberated among the hills the after-rider retreated to the wagon, took possession of a bed he had made up behind the fore-chest, and that was the last the young hunter saw of him until he stepped over him, about four o'clock in the morning, to put away his skins.

Contrary to his usual custom, Oscar slept late, and, in accordance with the orders he had given the night before, no one disturbed him.

He ate a light breakfast, passed a few hours in writing letters, which he knew he might never have an opportunity to send to those to whom they were addressed, and then wondered what he should do next.

He thought of the buffaloes, but his blood had had time to cool and he was in no hurry to put himself in the way of one of those dangerous animals.

He remembered the ostriches and elands—specimens of which he hoped to secure some day—but the bare thought of stalking the one or riding down the other while the sun was blazing so fiercely over his head was discouraging.

While he sat on the dissel-boom, debating the matter, his attention was attracted by a honey-bird, which, after trying in vain to arouse him by calling to him from a neighboring tree, flew down in front of his face and hovered there, just as a humming-bird does when he is inspecting a honeysuckle.

These little birds were very familiar, and had shown themselves to be so utterly devoid of fear that it was all Oscar could do to bring himself to shoot a couple of them for specimens.

"I say, McCann!" exclaimed Oscar, turning to his after-rider, who was lying at his ease under the wagon, "what sort of honey do you have in this country?"

"Oh, the honey is good enough," was the reply, "but it isn't worth the risk that one has to run to get it. You don't want anything to do with that rascally bird."

"Why not?" asked the boy.

"Because he will lead you into trouble."

"Oh, that's all nonsense!" said Oscar. "Mack, you are about twenty years behind the times. That old superstition was exploded long ago."

"I know a good many experienced hunters who will tell you that the belief that a honey-bird will lead one who is foolish enough to follow him to a snake or a sleeping lion is not a superstition, but a reality," was McCann's reply. "I am well enough acquainted with them to know that they are treacherous. Years ago I used to work for two transport-riders, brothers, of the name of Baker. One day the younger one took a fool notion into his head that he wanted some honey, and although his brother tried hard to make him stay by the wagon, he wouldn't do it. He followed one of those birds up a gloomy, thickly wooded ravine and never came back. The bird led him to a lion, and the beast killed him. He would doubtless have made a meal of him that night if we had not found the body and taken it away."

"It was little you had to do with taking it away, I'll warrant," said Oscar to himself. "That story may be true, and then again it may be, like a good many others you have told me, manufactured out of the whole cloth. Saddle up a couple of the horses—Little Gray and another."

"You'll be sorry for it," said McCann as he slowly, almost painfully, arose from the ground.

Up to this time he had been lively enough, but now, when he saw a prospect of work before him, and dangerous work, too, all the symptoms of the fever with which he had been threatened, the day before came back to him again. His step was slow and feeble, and he moved as though he could scarcely keep his feet.

"I don't know whether I can sit in a saddle or not," said he as he crawled out from under the wagon.

"I didn't ask you to try, did I?" said Oscar, who could not make up his mind whether he ought to laugh or get angry. "I shall take Thompson with me."

This was just what McCann wanted, and yet Oscar's words enraged him. He had found, greatly to his surprise, that his employer's success did not depend upon him; that his feigned illness made no sort of difference with Oscar's hunting; that the Kaffir was quite capable of taking his place as after-rider—and all these things galled him.

A conceited person always feels hurt when he awakes to the fact that the world and the people in it can get on about as well without him as they can with him.

By the time the horses had been saddled and watered at the fountain Oscar and his after-rider were ready to mount them. The honey-bird, which had watched their movements with every appearance of interest, showed his delight at the prospect of a hunt as plainly as the dogs did.

The latter frisked about in dangerous proximity to Little Gray's feet, and the bird flitted from tree to tree, keeping a short distance in advance of the horsemen, and coming back now and then to hover before their faces, as if urging them to greater speed.

He led them around the grove, and on arriving at the opposite side took wing and flew across the open plain to a second grove, about a quarter of a mile away. From this grove he led them to another; but instead of keeping them in the outskirts he flew into it and was lost to view.

Oscar fanned himself with his hat, looked suspiciously at the thick bushes before him, and took time to reflect.

"I don't much like the looks of such thickets as these, for I have always found something in them," said he to himself. "What shall I find in this one, I wonder? Hunt 'em up, dogs! If there is anything in there drive it out. Come on, Thompson!"

The Kaffir touched the ground almost as soon as his employer did, and kept close at his heels as he worked his way into the thicket in pursuit of the honey-bird.

CHAPTER XXVII. A SCRAP OF EVIDENCE.

Oscar had often told himself that the Dutchmen who first settled in Africa must have had a keen sense of the fitness of things when they named these bushes "wait-a-bits." They were as full of thorns as a rosebush. The thorns were two or three inches in length, and the ends were turned down into little hooks that were both sharp and strong. They were continually pulling off his hat or catching in his clothing, and then he was obliged to "wait a bit" before he could extricate himself from their grasp. How the Kaffir managed it, with his bare feet and no clothes at all on worth speaking of, was a mystery; but he got through somehow, and he did not make half as much fuss about it as Oscar did.

There was one thing in their favor, however—these bushes did not extend far into the grove. They grew only in the outskirts of it, and after they had been passed the way was comparatively clear.

This particular thicket was not more than twenty yards wide, but it took them almost half an hour to get through it.

The honey-bird kept them company all the time, hovering over their heads and chirping loudly, as if he were trying, in his bird's way, to encourage them.

Just as they pushed the last bush away, and stepped out into the little open space on the other side of the thicket, four of the dogs appeared.

It was well for at least one of the hunters that they did so, for their keen sense of smell enabled them to detect the presence of something that Oscar did not expect to find there.

"I think we have reached the spot, Thompson," said Oscar, pointing to a tree in which their little guide was hopping about. The bird seemed to be excited now, for his movements were quick and nervous, and he showed no disposition to go any further. "The honey must be in that tree. You go around that way, and see if you can find a hole in it, and I'll go this way."

The hunters moved off in different directions, but had not made more than half a dozen steps when the dogs became aware that there was something in the bushes that grew around the foot of the tree in question.

The thicket was too small to conceal any very large animal, and Oscar's first thought was that the dogs had winded a snake, probably a poisonous mamba—a species that frequents the timber, and is not often found on the open plain. Its bite is deadly, and the natives affirm that it will chase a man for the purpose of biting him.

"I don't know but McCann was right, after all," said Oscar as he backed away from the thicket. "If there is a snake in there I'll spoil your head for you, my treacherous friend, so that you'll not fool anybody else as you have fooled me, and I'll make war on your kind so long as I stay in Africa. Thompson, look around and see if you can find a stick. Our chances for hitting so small an object as a snake with a rifle-ball are rather—— Eh? Do you see him?"

Just then the dogs rushed at the thicket, barking loudly, and the Kaffir, who had been closely examining the bushes, raised his rifle with a quick movement, and fired at something he saw there.

The next moment, with every hair on his body sticking toward his head, his mouth wide open, showing a frightful array of teeth, his eyes flashing with fury, and the blood trickling from a wound in his side, out bounded a magnificent leopard.

The dogs scattered right and left, but one of them was not quick enough in his movements to escape instant death. He was knocked flat by a blow from the paw of the enraged animal, which, after making two or three high short springs, growling savagely all the while, halted and faced about, as if he had made up his mind to run no further.

Laying his chin down between his fore paws, and waving his tail from side to side, as a cat does when she is watching a mouse, the fierce animal fastened his eyes upon Oscar, whom he seemed to have singled out as a victim; but instead of creeping toward him he writhed backward, as if he were measuring off the distance he intended to clear when he made his spring.

Then came the critical moment. The animal drew his cat-like ears flat down against his head, and at the same instant two ready fingers pressed the triggers. The reports sounded like one, and the leopard, arrested in his leap before he had fairly left the ground, rolled over on his side, powerless for mischief.

Oscar's rifle spoke again a few seconds later, and the honey-bird came fluttering down from his perch. His head was spoiled, sure enough, for it was shot from his body.

"He'll never fool any more hunters," said Oscar as he walked up to examine the leopard after reloading both barrels of his rifle. "I say, Thompson, I think you have earned a musket by this day's work. You put two balls into him very cleverly. If this is the way you are going to back me up when I get into trouble I shall be your debtor for ten pounds when we get back to Maritzburg. We don't want any honey, do we? This fellow's mate may be loafing about in some of these thickets, and the best thing we can do is to get out of here."

It was hard work to carry their prize through those thorn bushes. The leopard was not very heavy at the start,—he did not begin to be as large as either of the hyenas Oscar had secured the day before,—but he grew heavy before they got him out to the plain.

When they reached the edge of the grove Oscar was glad to sit down and rest, while the Kaffir went in pursuit of the horses, which had been alarmed by the noise of the fight, and would no doubt have made the best of their way back to the wagon if they had not hobbled themselves by putting their feet through their bridle-reins.

No amount of coaxing could induce Little Gray to consent to carry the leopard to camp, and the Kaffir's horse objected so strenuously to having anything at all to do with the matter that Oscar was obliged to lash his prize fast to the saddle, while the Kaffir clung to his nag with both hands to keep him from running away.

When this had been done Oscar mounted Little Gray and turned him toward the wagon; but before he reached it he met with two surprises. The first came about in this way:

While he was riding along, with his gaze fastened thoughtfully on the ground, and wondering how many narrow escapes an African hunter could have before some wild beast succeeded in getting the better of him, his eye chanced to fall upon something that instantly arrested his attention.

In Eaton he had probably walked over such objects a dozen times in a day, and never noticed them at all; but they were so uncommon in the wilds of Africa that the sight of this one interested him at once—so much so that he swung himself from his horse and picked it up.

It proved to be a piece of brown envelope. Inside of it was a strip of white paper, at which he gazed in the greatest amazement. It was part of the map that his friend Mr. Lawrence had drawn for him. Scarcely able to credit the evidence of his eyes, Oscar put the paper into his pocket and climbed back into his saddle.

"How, in the name of all that's mysterious and bewildering, did that map get scattered about in this way?" he kept saying to himself, and every time he asked the question he took the paper out of his pocket and looked at it again. "It certainly is my map—or all there is left of it. I would know it if I had picked it up in the streets of London; but if I had found it there I could not be more surprised than I am to find it here. I am sure that I put it in the third pocket on the right-hand side of the tent, and how in the world—— I wonder if McCann——"

Oscar took off his hat and dug his fingers into his head to stir up his ideas. That name suggested something to him, and brought back to his memory a good many little incidents that had happened since he left Zurnst—all trivial enough in themselves, but which when taken together made up a weight of evidence against the after-rider (an after-rider only in name) that was overwhelming.

"I ought to have been on the lookout for some such thing as this," thought Oscar, who, beyond a doubt, would have come to an open rupture with McCann if the latter had been near him at that moment. "He has done everything he could to discourage me. He has put the brakes on the wagon when we were going up hill in order to make the oxen part the trek-tow; he has tried to lead me out of my course, and make me lose my way on the plain, so that he could turn me back to Zurnst; he has told the most dreadful stories of the dangers I was running into, and tried over and over again to make me promise that I would secure what specimens I could here, and then go back; and, as a last resort, he has destroyed my map. It must have been McCann, for there is no one else about the wagon who knows the value of that piece of paper."

Oscar felt savage enough during the rest of the ride, and consequently he was just in the right humor to act—and to act resolutely—in an emergency that presently arose.

While he was thinking about McCann, and wondering if there were any way in which he could satisfy himself of the man's guilt before he openly charged him with destroying the map, an exclamation from his after-rider aroused him.

He looked up and found that he was in plain view of the fountain. The oxen were gathered on the bank, and on the opposite side of them were the driver and fore-loper, who were shouting and cracking their whips to turn the cattle away from the fountain.

On the opposite bank of the water-course were four wagons, and a drove of strange oxen were just coming down to the fountain to drink.

"Visitors!" cried Oscar, shaking his bridle-rein and putting his horse into a gallop. "I hope they are English or Scotch; but even if they are Dutchmen, and can't understand a word I say, I shall give them a hearty welcome. I didn't know before that I was so lonely."

In a few moments Oscar met his oxen, which had been turned about with their heads toward the plain, and also his driver, who hurried up to him with a face full of news.

"Hi, baas!" he exclaimed. "Boer man shoot ox."

"What?" shouted Oscar.

"Yaas; shoot dead," replied the Hottentot, who was all excitement. "Shoot all dead. No let drink water."

Greatly bewildered, Oscar looked around for McCann, and seeing him following after the herd, galloped around to meet him.

"What's the trouble here?" he asked. "To whom do those wagons belong?"

"The owners are Dutch transport-riders, who are on their way to the Kalahari Desert—Sechelle's country, you know—to trade for feathers and ivory," answered McCann. "They arrived here about half an hour ago."

"What does Ferguson mean by saying that they will not let my oxen drink?" continued Oscar.

"He means that the Boers want all the water for their own cattle, and swear that they will shoot any strange ox or horse that comes near the fountain," replied McCann. "Knowing that they are not the kind of people who make idle threats, I thought it best to keep the stock away from the water until you came."

Oscar was almost ready to boil over with rage. He had never heard of such a piece of impudence before in all his life.

CHAPTER XXVIII. OSCAR SHOWS HIS COURAGE.

Since crossing the Drackenberg Oscar had had but little intercourse with the Boers he had met along his route. Knowing them to be a stupid, pig-headed race, deaf to reason and blind to everything except self-interest, he wanted nothing to do with them if he could help it.

The only way in which they could be touched was through their pockets. He had found that they were quite willing to cheat him in a trade and to drink all the coffee he could afford to offer them, but they never thought of granting him a favor in return. They expected to be liberally paid for everything they did for him.

They believed that every hunter who came to Africa must of necessity be an Englishman, and they were very spiteful toward them, for they had somehow got it into their heads that England was laying plans to subjugate their country.

"Isn't that pool public property?" demanded Oscar as soon as his indignation would permit him to speak. "What right have they to say that my cattle shall not drink there?"

McCann shrugged his shoulders and waved his hand toward the fountain, as if to say that if his employer chose to use his eyes he would see something that would enable him to answer that question for himself.

Oscar rode out so that he could take a survey of the water-hole, and saw four men standing in line in front of it, holding their rifles in their hands. On the opposite bank stood their drivers and after-riders, all armed, and ready to lend assistance in case Oscar and his men showed a disposition to be belligerent.

Everything seemed to indicate that there was trouble ahead, and Oscar was in just the right frame of mind to meet it.

"I'd be willing to give something handsome if McCann had just half Big Thompson's pluck," thought the young hunter, who wasted not a moment in deciding upon his course. "But I am alone, and how I am going to come out it is hard to tell. Johnson," he shouted, "you and Ferguson run around in front of those oxen and hold them where they are. When I give the word drive them to the fountain, and I will see that the way is clear. Come on, Thompson. I want you to tell them that I have something to say about this business."

"Oh, Mr. Preston!" cried McCann in great alarm, "mind what you are about."

"I will," answered Oscar.

"You don't know what a determined lot they can be if they once make up their minds to it," continued McCann. "They would just as soon shoot as eat."

"I don't care how determined they are," was the boy's reply. "And as for shooting, that is a game two can play at. I am not going to stand by and see my stock suffer from thirst when there is plenty of water close at hand, you may depend upon that. Come on, Thompson!"

In spite of the entreaties and remonstrances of McCann, who earnestly, almost tearfully, declared that his employer would surely bring himself into serious trouble if he attempted to combat the Boers' resolution to hold the fountain for the exclusive use of their own stock, Oscar rode away, first satisfying himself that his driver and fore-loper had obeyed his orders to stop the oxen.

When he arrived on the bank above the fountain the Boers drew closer together for mutual protection, and one of them, a gray-headed old patriarch, raised his hand as a signal for him to halt. Instead of obeying Oscar motioned to the Boers to get out of his way, at the same time cocking both barrels of his rifle, which he held in such a way that its threatening muzzle pointed straight at the patriarch's breast.

Not satisfied with this demonstration, which had a visible effect upon the courage of the Boers, Oscar thrust his hand into the breast-pocket of his jacket and brought out a heavy revolver, the hammer of which clicked ominously as he dropped the weapon by his side.

Without saying a word the Boers moved out of his path, and Oscar and Big Thompson, the latter still carrying the leopard across his saddle, drove their horses into the fountain and loosed the bridle-reins so that they could drink.

"Now, Thompson," said Oscar, who, in spite of his anger, was outwardly calm, "ask these Dutch gentlemen what they mean by such work as this."

The interpreter propounded the question in his own way, and received a torrent of reproaches, threats, and abuse in reply. The Boers shouted at the top of their voices, shook their fists at Oscar, who shook his cocked revolver at them in return, and the Hottentots on the bank joined in with yells and furious gestures.

"Well, Thompson," said Oscar when he thought he had waited long enough for an answer, "whenever you can make sense out of this Babel of tongues let me know it."

"The Boer men say that this is their fountain because they water here every time they go on their trading expeditions," was the substance of the Kaffir's reply. "They are going to stay here two or three days, and rest their cattle and fill their water-butts, and there is no more in the pool than they want themselves. If the English trader wants water for his oxen he can just inspan and go off and hunt it up, for, he shall have none here."

"What makes them think I am a trader?" inquired the boy. "Did anybody tell them so, or did they only guess at it?"

The reply increased Oscar's surprise and indignation. It was to the effect that the Englishman's white servant had told them so not more than ten minutes ago.

"That's something else I have to thank McCann for," said Oscar. "Now, Thompson, tell them what I say," he added, throwing his right leg over the horn of his saddle, so that he sat sideways on his horse, "woman fashion." He seemed to handle his cocked weapons very carelessly, for as often as he changed his position the muzzles were sure to come in line with the heads of some of the Boers, who were prompt to step out of range, "I say that this fountain does not belong to them, for it is not located on their land. I have a better right to it than they have, for I came here first. I am going to stay here a week or two; perhaps longer. I am not an Englishman or a trader, and neither am I going off to hunt up another fountain. It is my intention to water my cattle right here, and now. Tell them to put that in their big pipes and smoke it."

The Kaffir told them, and the reply that came back through him was:

"The Boer men say that they will shoot the first strange ox or horse that puts his nose into the water."

Oscar had ridden away from the fountain, but when these words were translated to him he promptly turned about, and rode back again. He drove his horse in knee-deep, and scowled savagely at the Boers, who were struck motionless and dumb by his conduct. Little Gray put his nose into the fountain several times, and blew the water about, but the Dutchmen did not shoot him.

"Thompson, tell these gentlemen that my oxen are coming here to drink now, and that if they want to begin shooting when they come up to go ahead," said Oscar. "But warn them, also, that for every shot they fire I shall fire two, and I shall make every one count. If they want to go on with their trading expedition they had better let me and my property entirely alone. Now go and tell the boys to bring up the cattle."

Big Thompson translated his employer's emphatic words, and then turned and rode up the bank, while the Boers drew off on one side to hold a consultation.

Oscar kept his place in the fountain until his oxen arrived, and then he rode up between them and the Boers, passing so close to the latter that his horse fairly crowded them out of his path, and stood guard over them while they drank their fill.

The Boers remonstrated—at least Oscar thought they did, for they kept up a constant shouting all the while—but they made no hostile demonstrations.

When the oxen had quenched their thirst Oscar followed them to the wagon, and saw them put in their yokes and tied up for the night.

"I was really afraid you were going to get into trouble with those Dutchmen," said McCann from his seat on the dissel-boom.

"Oh, you were, were you?" exclaimed Oscar, who stood in front of the fire, with his hat pushed on the back of his head and his hands thrust deep into his pockets. "And you did all you could to help it along, didn't you?"

McCann started, and tried to look surprised, but only succeeded in confirming the suspicions that had already been formed in the mind of his employer.

His face grew red and white by turns, and he could not meet the boy's eye.

"You are not only a coward—a most contemptible coward—but you are a scoundrel as well," continued Oscar. "When I return to the coast I shall post you far and wide. You never shall impose upon anybody else as you have imposed upon me, if I can help it. You dare not go any further into the wilderness with me, you are too big a coward to go back to Zurnst alone, and you are determined to make me go back with you. You told those Boers that I am an Englishman and a trader, hoping in that way to excite their hatred and jealousy of me. You tried to lose me on the plain, and to lead me out of my way, so that I could not find water; and when you learned that I was able to travel without any help from you, by referring to a map Mr. Lawrence had given—— Aha!" exclaimed Oscar as McCann's face flushed guiltily, "you thought you would stop me by tearing up my map, didn't you?"

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Preston," stammered McCann. "Indeed I don't."

"Don't you, though? Look at that!" cried Oscar, pulling from his pocket the pieces of paper he had found on the plain, and holding them close in front of the man's face. "Look at that!" he repeated as he rubbed the pieces violently up and down over McCann's nose.

This was almost too much for even a coward to stand. McCann jumped to his feet with an angry exclamation, and drew his clenched hand back as if he were about to strike.

CHAPTER XXIX. "THE CHARGE OF THE HEAVY BRIGADE."

If McCann thought he was going to frighten his employer he was destined to be disappointed. Oscar took a step forward, and there was a look in his eye that McCann had never seen there before.

"Don't try my patience too severely," said he. "If you do you will be a different-looking man when I get through with you. There's no surgeon in this country, and I don't know whether the Boers could patch you up or not."

The threat implied in these words took all desire for a fight out of McCann. He sank back on the dissel-boom, rested his elbows on his knees, and fastened his eyes on the ground.

"Now," continued Oscar, throwing all the emphasis he could into his words, "I tell you once for all, and I want you to bear in mind that I mean just what I say, neither more nor less, that I have put up with your cowardice and treachery long enough, and just as surely as I detect you in the attempt to throw so much as a straw in my path, just so surely will I turn you adrift on the plain, to find your way back to Zurnst as best you can. If you had one of your own countrymen to deal with he would wear a rawhide out over your back, and he would serve you right, too."

So saying, Oscar climbed into the wagon, and proceeded to secure everything in it that could be put under lock and key. But first he took out of one of his chests a large envelope, like the one McCann had destroyed, and drew from it a map which was an exact counterpart of the one Mr. Lawrence had given him.

"That was rather a bright idea of mine," said he after he had made sure that the contents of the chest had not been tampered with. "It is well, in this country, to have duplicates of everything. McCann didn't do me as much injury as he thought he did, but it was a contemptible trick, all the same."

"What is the meaning of that move, I wonder?" thought McCann, who was making his employer's tea at his own fire. "Two weeks ago I should have been sorry to see him do that, but now I don't care. The Boers will take me, for they told me so."

Having put all his books and papers where he thought they would be safe from McCann's prying eyes, Oscar got out of the wagon, walked up to his own fire, and took possession of his camp-chair.

"Now, McCann," said he, "I want a plain understanding with you, and after I have had it I shall never again refer to this matter. Not being blind, I have seen for a long time that you are not contented here, and if you want to leave me and go with those Boers I am quite willing that you should do so. All I ask is that you will leave openly and aboveboard, like a man."

"Oh, I don't want to go!" answered McCann with more haste and emphasis than the occasion seemed to require. "I don't deny that I should like to see Leichtberg again; but those transport-riders are not going that way. They are bound for the desert, and if I should go with them I should not see home again for eighteen months at least. You'll be going back yourself in less time than that."

"I certainly hope so. Then you think you had better stay with me, do you?"

"Of course I do. That was the bargain I made."

"We'll not say anything about that," replied Oscar with some impatience. "You bargained to act as my after-rider, too, and you have never done it. If you want to stay, all right. You can keep yourself employed about the camp, since you are afraid to go out of it; but mind you, now, no more treachery. Is my tea ready?"

Oscar worked late over the leopard that night, and when his task was finished lay down in his cot and went to sleep, lulled by the roaring of the lions and the laughing of the hyenas.

He smiled whenever he thought how terrified he was when he first heard those sounds. Now he paid no more attention to the lions than he did to the prairie wolves that howled about his camp when he was journeying to and from the foot-hills.

When he awoke the next morning the Dutchmen were in motion. They did not like such a neighbor as Oscar had shown himself to be, and were going off to hunt up another fountain, at which they could rest their cattle and fill their water-butts in peace.

"Good riddance," thought Oscar while he performed his ablutions in the bucket which he always found waiting for him, filled with fresh water. "I know now that I did just right last night. If they had found that I was afraid of them they would have taken full control of that pool, and I could have taken my choice between seeing my cattle perish of thirst and inspanning and hunting up another water-hole. Now what shall I do to-day?"

This question and the discussion of the breakfast that McCann had served up for him occupied Oscar's attention during the next twenty minutes, and the coffee was finished and a decision reached at about the same moment.

To begin with, there was no earthly use in hunting in the direction in which the Boers had gone, for they would scare all the game along their route.

He would spend the day on the other side of the water-course and try to shoot another of that herd of koodoos (he had already forgotten the firm resolution he had made that he would never again try stalking under an African sun), for he wanted to secure two of each variety of the fauna whenever he could get them.

So he gave the necessary orders, and in a quarter of an hour more he and Thompson were ready for the hunt. This time they each carried a canteen filled with water, and all the dogs went with them.

This was another fatiguing day for Oscar, but, on the whole, it was an exciting and glorious one. He succeeded in shooting another fine specimen of the antelope tribe, and was the involuntary spectator of a scene he would not have missed for a good deal, but which he would not willingly have witnessed again at so close quarters under any consideration.

Such a sight as Oscar saw that day is never seen anywhere out of Africa. There was "game, game, nothing but game," all around him, but it was very wild, and would not permit him to come within range.

As fast as he advanced immense herds of wilde-beests, elands, quaggas, and zebras would scamper away to the right and left, and wheeling about like bodies of trained cavalry that were about to harass an enemy's flank, they would halt and begin feeding on the very ground the hunters had just passed over.

Having looked in vain for the koodoos among the hills and rocks, Oscar and his after-rider dismounted, under the friendly branches of a mimosa tree, to rest and eat their lunch.

"It would never do for us to go back to the wagon empty-handed, would it, Thompson?" said Oscar as he sipped the warm water from his canteen and looked with longing eyes toward the large bodies of antelopes that seemed to be gathering in the lower end of a little valley about a mile away. "And since the game will not let me go within gunshot of it, don't you suppose you could make it come to me? Couldn't you go around to leeward of it and make the dogs drive it this way?"

The Kaffir said he could.

"Of course I shouldn't stay near this tree, for there is no place to hide. I think that rock out there"—here Oscar pointed to a little boulder that lay on the plain about a quarter of a mile away—"would be a good place of concealment, don't you? Very well. Take the dogs out and see what you can do for me."

Oscar added such suggestions and instructions as he thought necessary, and when the Kaffir had finished his lunch he mounted his horse, called to the dogs, and rode away, leaving the boy to his meditations.

When he had been gone an hour Oscar picked up his rifle, and began the laborious task of creeping a quarter of a mile on his hands and knees to reach the boulder of which he had spoken.

He had timed the Kaffir's movements with tolerable accuracy, and he had not been in his place of concealment more than ten minutes before a cloud of dust arose in the distance, telling him that the game was in motion.

The cloud extended a long distance on each side of the boulder, and from it there issued a rumbling noise that sounded like the roar of an approaching express train. Then it occurred to Oscar, for the first time, that he had been just a little foolhardy. He looked anxiously to the right and left of him, but there was no place of refuge nearer than the tree under which he and Thompson had eaten their lunch. There was no time to run back to it, for that "heavy brigade" was charging down upon him with the speed of the wind.

"Good gracious!" soliloquized Oscar. "What if they should run over me and trample me to death?"

His heart beat rapidly at the thought, and it required the exercise of all the nerve he possessed to enable him to stand his ground.

CHAPTER XXX. OSCAR'S ASSISTANT HUNTERS.

Fortunately for Oscar Preston he was not dealing with the stupid bison of our Western plains, which will dash madly over a precipice when stampeded, and when suffering for want of water walk deliberately into a quicksand that is already choked with the bodies of their dying comrades.

The animals that were then approaching, always alert and wary, scented danger while it was yet in the distance, and, dividing right and left, gave Oscar's boulder a wide berth.

But one herd—composed of antelopes, that are held by some hunters to be the equal of the koodoo in cunning, and greatly its superior in speed—was caught napping this time, and when Oscar's rifle cracked one of them fell.

While the young hunter was watching for a chance to put in his second barrel he was startled by a clatter of hoofs behind, so loud that it drowned all the rest, and, looking over his shoulder without changing his position, he was horrified to see a herd of buffaloes, numbering a hundred or more, dashing by within less than thirty yards of him.

They carried their tails high in the air, held their shaggy heads close to the ground, in readiness to toss the first thing that came in their way; their eyes were fairly green with fury, and, taken altogether, their appearance was enough to frighten anybody.

Oscar, knowing that his only chance for life lay in concealment, hugged the ground as closely as he could until the last of the herd had passed him, and then, jumping to his feet, gave the nearest of them a shot behind the shoulder.

He knew the bullet had taken effect. But the buffalo kept straight ahead, and presently he and his companions were out of sight.

When the cloud of dust and the animals that raised it had passed on, and the dogs had swept by, running at random, but all keeping up a terrific yelping, Oscar arose to his feet, and went to take a look at his new prize.

It was a valuable one—an oryx, sometimes called gemsbok—and, like the koodoo, was probably destined to stand alone in the Yarmouth Museum, the only representative of its species.

It was about three feet and a half high at the shoulders, and, like many other African antelopes, carried a bushy tail and an erect mane.

Its horns were long and straight, and the markings about its head made it look as though it had a bridle on.

This species is quite independent of water, grows fat on arid plains, where any other antelope would starve to death, and is so fleet and enduring, and so very alert and watchful besides, that it is almost impossible to shoot one of them. By the time he had completed his examination the Kaffir came up.

"Go and get my horse," said Oscar, "and then take this fellow up in front of you, and lead the way toward the wagon. We'll go home. A koodoo and an oryx in two days ought to satisfy anybody. I had a snap shot at a buffalo, but I didn't bring him down."

When Oscar came to retrace his steps he found that he had ridden much further away from the wagon than he supposed.

He did not see any landmarks that were familiar to him until he reached the hill on which he had shot the sentinel koodoo, and then it lacked only an hour of being dark.

As they were riding over this hill the Kaffir suddenly stopped, and without saying a word pointed before him with his finger.

Oscar turned his head, and saw some animal lying under a tree that stood in the edge of the nearest grove.

"What is it?" he asked in a cautious whisper. "It cannot be an elephant or a rhinoceros!"

"No," answered the after-rider. "Buffalo. Bad hurt. Look out!"

"Oh! that's my old friend, is it?" exclaimed the boy. "I'll see if I can't make a better shot this time."

The young hunter had not yet forgotten how badly he had been frightened by a charging buffalo on the evening he was hunting the secretary-bird, and consequently the Kaffir's warning was entirely unnecessary. He intended to look out, and he was resolved, also, to secure that buffalo's head if he could.

"I am going up nearer, to see if I can get a shot at him," said he in a low tone. "When he charges I will lead him by, within a few yards of you, and you must be ready to drop him. Be sure and do good work now, for I don't know how these horses of ours are going to act."

Oscar rode slowly toward the buffalo, and the longer he looked at him the larger he seemed to grow.

It was plain that he was badly wounded, and that made him all the more dangerous. Having approached within less than fifty yards of him without attracting his attention, Oscar stopped his horse and took a few minutes in which to decide upon a plan of operations.

"If I shoot at him from the saddle and my horse throws me I shall be in a fix," said he to himself. "If I dismount, and the buffalo charges me, and my horse will not let me mount him again, I shall be in another fix. Perhaps I had better make him get up."

The buffalo got upon his feet a few seconds later, but Oscar did not make him do it. It was the dogs.

They came in, one after the other, having given up the pursuit of the antelopes, and on discovering the buffalo rushed at him in a body.

The savage beast met them half-way, charging directly toward Oscar, who wheeled his horse and fled at the top of his speed.

As he flew by the hill on which the Kaffir was stationed the latter fired both barrels of his gun, each bullet telling loudly upon the buffalo; but he never stopped, nor did he seem to notice Oscar, who circled around out of his way, and drew up a little distance in the rear of the Kaffir. He kept straight on to the nearest grove, and in five minutes more both he and the dogs were out of sight in the bushes.

"Come on, Thompson!" shouted Oscar after he had listened for a few moments to the sounds of the chase. "He is going on through, and we will meet him on the other side."

Oscar rode fast, and to his great delight succeeded in reaching the opposite side of the grove just as the buffalo broke through the bushes into the open ground.

The hunter's blood was up now, and without waiting to inquire whether or not he ran any risks by such a proceeding he pulled up his horse, and discharged both barrels of his rifle as rapidly as he could draw the trigger.

When he took the weapon down from his shoulder he found that he was still firmly seated in his saddle, and that his horse was standing motionless in his tracks.

"Come now, old fellow, that was pretty well done," said Oscar approvingly. "Little Gray himself couldn't be steadier. If this is the way you are going to behave that buffalo is mine."

A piercing shriek from the Kaffir, who had followed close at his heels, interrupted Oscar's soliloquy.

The native was leaning forward in his saddle, his eyes were fixed with a frightened stare, and his finger was pointing steadily at some object on the other side of Oscar.

The boy looked, and saw a sight that made the cold chills creep all over him. Two new hunters, whose aid was neither required nor desired, had suddenly appeared upon the scene.

They were a full-grown lion and lioness. They had doubtless been sleeping away the day in a little clump of thorn bushes that grew in the open plain, about a hundred yards from the grove, and having been aroused from their nap by the yelping of the dogs, they had come out of their retreat to take part in the hunt.

"Tao! tao!" shouted the Kaffir, who wheeled his horse and was off at breakneck speed.

Scarcely realizing what he was doing, Oscar sat motionless in his saddle and watched the chase. The dogs lost no time in withdrawing from the race, and the buffalo and the lions were left to settle the matter among themselves.

The huge beast kept resolutely on, but the long bounds of his savage pursuers rapidly diminished the distance between them, and at last the lioness, outstripping her heavier companion, sprang into the air and fastened her claws in his flanks.

During the short but desperate battle that followed Oscar gained a pretty good idea of a buffalo's strength, activity, and courage. The lioness did not pull him down, as the boy expected she would, for she could not.

The buffalo shook her off with the greatest ease, charged her with the utmost fury, and if her mate had not been close at hand to lend his assistance it is hard to tell how the fight would have ended.

His superior weight and muscle brought the matter to a speedy termination. Fighting gallantly to the last, the buffalo went down, and in a few minutes his struggles were over.

Now, beyond a doubt, it would have been a magnificent act of daring if Oscar Preston had ridden up to those lions and settled both of them by sending a bullet through their heads; and if he had done so we should be glad to record the fact. But he did nothing of the kind. He sat on his horse like one stupefied until the chase and the battle were ended, and then withdrew, quite content to leave the noble beasts to the full enjoyment of their supper.

CHAPTER XXXI. GOOD-BY, McCANN.

Surrounded by the dogs, which had gathered about him for protection, Oscar rode slowly away, looking back now and then to make sure that the lions were not following him, and as soon as the trees of the grove hid them from his view he put his horse to his best pace and galloped up beside the Kaffir, who was awaiting his appearance with no little impatience and anxiety.

"Whew!" panted Oscar, pulling off his hat and wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. "We don't want that buffalo's head, do we, Thompson? I don't think it would pay to bother with it. That was my first, and I sincerely hope it will be my last, sight of a wild lion. I am glad you didn't drop the oryx in your hurried stampede, for if you had I don't believe I should have gone back after him. Now let's reach the wagon without loss of time."

Never before had Oscar felt as timid as he did that night.

He gave every clump of bushes and every stone that was large enough to conceal a lurking beast of prey a wide berth, and did not draw an easy breath until he saw the glare of the camp-fires shining through the trees in front of him. By that time it was pitch-dark.

The only persons he saw as he rode up the bank, after watering his horse at the fountain, were the driver and fore-loper, who ran up to the Kaffir, chattering in chorus, swinging their arms around their heads, and pointing toward the opposite side of the water-course.

They were full of news, and Oscar, who thought that something alarming must have happened during his absence, waited impatiently to learn what it was. He could gain no idea of it from the language of the Hottentots, for that was perfectly unintelligible to him, nor from the countenance of the Kaffir, who did nothing but grin while he listened.

"Well," said he when the hubbub had subsided so that he could make himself heard, "what is it?"

"Mack—he gone," said Thompson sententiously.

"Gone?" repeated Oscar, a suspicion of the truth breaking upon him at once.

The Kaffir grinned again, and the Hottentots nodded their heads and began backing off, as if they expected a great ebullition of fury on Oscar's part.

"Gone?" said the boy again. "Did he go on foot?"

"No; took he hoss and gun," replied Thompson.

"Which way did he go?"

The three natives pointed silently in the direction of Zurnst.

"Thompson," said Oscar, "put that antelope down in front of the wagon. Did either of you fellows get supper for me?"

Yes, there was a supper waiting for him, and it was a good one, too—the best he had eaten since leaving Zurnst. Oscar smiled when he sat down to it.

He knew that it was the result of the combined efforts of his driver and fore-loper, who had taken this way of showing their employer that they sympathized with him in the loss of his cook, and that they had not aided or abetted McCann in any way.

For several minutes they stood at a respectful distance, watching him, and waiting for him to get angry; but seeing that he sipped his coffee very contentedly, and showed no signs of flying into a passion over something he could not help, they finally withdrew to their own fire.

When Oscar had finished his supper he settled back in his camp-chair, folded his arms, and looked down at the ground in a brown study.

"So McCann has stolen a horse and gun, and cleared out, has he?" said he to himself after he had spent a few minutes in reviewing the situation. "Well, he has rendered himself liable to the law, which will snatch him bald-headed the moment he gets back to the settlements; but I can't stay here long enough to see justice done him, and so all the punishment he receives will be from me. He will not meet his friends again under a year and a half, and I hope to see mine before that time expires. He never went toward Zurnst, because he's too big a coward to travel so far by himself. He probably went in that direction, but he did it just to throw me off his trail. As soon as he was out of sight of the camp he made a circle around, and went off in pursuit of those Boers. I shall find him in their company to-morrow night. And when I do find him," added Oscar, while his eyes flashed, and his hands clenched involuntarily, "he must give up my property or fight. When I get my gun and horse back he can go where he pleases."

A visit to the rear of the wagon, where the horses were eating their evening's rations of mealies, revealed the fact that Little Gray was missing; and an inspection of his "battery" resulted in the discovery that his heavy single-barrelled rifle—his "elephant gun," as Captain Sterling called it—was gone.

The young hunter made no comments, but when he brought out his tools and went to work on the oryx there was an expression on his face that McCann would not have liked to have seen there.

Before he went to sleep that night Oscar made all his arrangements for a vigorous pursuit of his thieving cook, and daylight found him and Thompson in the saddle. By the time the dew was off the grass so that the horses could graze they had travelled fifteen miles.

They were just that far from water, too, and Oscar, knowing that his animals could not quench their thirst until he reached the Boer encampment, made but a short halt for rest and refreshment.

When he mounted again he pressed forward with all haste, and just as the sun was setting came within sight of the party of whom he was in search.

Their wagons were drawn up on the open, about two hundred yards from a little grove, and Oscar knew that in or near that grove he would find a fountain.

In America hunters and travellers make it a point to camp close beside a water-course, provided that grass and wood are handy, but in Africa a different plan is pursued. The wild beasts which come to the pools every night to drink require plenty of elbow room, and the traveller takes care to see that they have it.

He stops his wagon at a distance, drives his stock to and from the fountain, and the water he needs for his tea and coffee is brought to his camp in buckets.

He is also suspicious of groves and thickets, because they afford lurking-places for lions and leopards; and he always camps on the open plain and builds his fire behind a barricade of thorn bushes.

Thirsty as he was, Oscar did not turn toward the fountain, but drew a bee-line for the wagons. He had a disagreeable and perhaps a dangerous task before him, and he wanted to get through with it as soon as he could.

Oscar had not ridden far before he became aware that his approach was discovered, and that there was a commotion among the Boers and their attendants.

He brought his field-glass to bear upon them, and saw that they were arming themselves and forming in line, so as to cover the wagons.

"I see him, Thompson," said Oscar at length. "He is hiding behind that second wagon from the left, and he has got my horse and gun with him. We'll soon have him out of that. I don't know whether we will or not," he added to himself. "If I had white men to deal with I should have no fears of the result; but these wooden-headed Dutchmen have no more sense than the cattle they drive, and it is hard to tell how they will act."

Nothing daunted by the preparations that had been made to receive him, Oscar rode straight on toward the Boers, and when the patriarch made a sign for him to halt he paid no sort of attention to it. The least show of timidity or irresolution would have been fatal to him. He had come there with plans of his own fully developed, and he intended to let the Dutchmen see that he had the pluck to carry them out.

He kept on until he had come within ten feet of the Boers, who held their cocked muskets in their hands, all ready to shoot, and then he drew up his horse.

"Thompson," said he, "tell these men that they are harboring a thief—that my cook has stolen a horse, saddle, bridle, and rifle from me, and that I have come here to get them. Tell them that I don't care for the thief himself—he isn't worth his grub, and they can have him if they want him—but I want my property, and, what's more, I'm bound to have it."

"Let's see you get it!" shouted McCann from his hiding-place behind the wagon.

Oscar's face grew a shade paler as these words of defiance fell upon his ears, but he made no reply. He had come there to act, and not to argue with McCann.

The Kaffir, however, was full of talk, and, not receiving a satisfactory reply to his translation, he proceeded to abuse the Dutchmen without stint.

The latter replied in angry tones, shaking their fists and flourishing their muskets in the air; and for a moment or two things looked as though there was going to be a fight.

"What do they say, Thompson?" asked Oscar.

"The Boer man say he don't know nothing about the hoss and gun," was the interpreter's reply.

"They don't, eh?" exclaimed Oscar. "That's all I want to know. If they won't help me get my property back I'll take it without help."

As Oscar said this he put his horse in motion, intending to ride to McCann's place of concealment, and compel him to surrender his ill-gotten gains. As he was about to pass through the line a Boer attempted to seize his horse by the bridle, but that was an unfortunate move for him.

Drawing sharply in upon the curb-bit, Oscar struck his horse a smart blow with the whip that was tied to his wrist; whereupon the animal shot forward like an arrow from a bow, and striking the Boer full in the breast, sent him flying through the air as if he had been thrown from a catapult.

Without waiting to see what had become of him, or to learn what he was going to do about it when he recovered his feet, Oscar rode around the nearest wagon, and found himself face to face with his runaway cook.

There was his missing horse, saddled and bridled, and at his head stood McCann, with the stolen rifle in his hand and his left arm passed through Little Gray's bridle-rein. The man's face was as white as a sheet, and he was trembling all over; but still he was trying to keep up some show of courage.

"Come no nearer," said he in a tone which he intended should strike terror to the boy's heart. "If you don't go away, and let me alone, I'll shoot you, so help me!"

Oscar made no reply. Swinging himself from his saddle with great coolness and deliberation, he approached the trembling culprit with a steady step, holding his cocked rifle in such a position that the muzzle of it pointed straight at McCann's breast.

"Keep that shooting-iron directed toward the clouds," said he sternly; and, almost involuntarily, McCann obeyed. "Now let go of it," he added when he had come near enough to place his hand upon the weapon.

The man dropped the elephant gun as if it had been a coal of fire. Oscar let down the hammer, took hold of Little Gray's bridle, from which McCann withdrew his arm without being told, and quietly led him away.

Very soon afterward he and the Kaffir were riding toward the fountain, while the Boers stood watching them in silence.

They camped on the plain that night, and the next morning set out for the wagon, which they reached in safety.

CHAPTER XXXII. OFF FOR THE COAST.

If time would permit we might tell of many more interesting and exciting adventures, of which Oscar was the hero, during his career in Africa, but those we have already described must suffice.

They will serve to give the readers some idea of the poetry of the life he led for thirteen long months. Of the prose—of the trials, disappointments, and discouragements—we have had little to say, preferring to deal as much as we could with the bright side of his experience.

He remained in his camp nearly a month, during which time he secured heads of nearly all the larger animals that were to be found in the country round about, as well as many specimens of the smaller ones, and then once more set out on his travels.

At the same time the trouble began. Some of the fountains in which he had expected to find water in abundance were dried up, and not infrequently he and his men were obliged to dig for hours before they could procure water enough to moisten the tongues of the thirsty cattle.

The sun burned him by day, the frosts chilled him at night, and when the rains came on the dry water-courses were transformed into roaring torrents, which he forded at the imminent risk of capsizing his wagon and losing all the fruits of his toil.

He had always been unfortunate in regard to his dogs. He hardly ever got into a fight without losing one or more of them, and his bad luck continued until there were but three of his pack left—Ralph, and two cowardly mongrels that were not worth the meat they ate.

In process of time his stock began to suffer also. One of his horses, that was warranted "salted," died of the distemper; the hyenas carried off all his goats, and finally a lion pulled down Little Gray, about a hundred yards from the wagon, and killed him in broad daylight.

This was too much for Oscar, who, reckless of the consequences, caught up one of his Express rifles and sent two bullets into the lion, whereupon the beast charged through the camp with the utmost fury, killing one of the oxen, frightening the rest so badly that they took to their heels and were not seen again for two days, and wounding Ralph so severely that his life was despaired of.

Up to this time Oscar had enjoyed the best of health; but now the fever attacked him and laid him in his cot.

He was so ill that he began to be alarmed, and to make matters worse Thompson one night approached the wagon and stated he and the others had thrown off their allegiance, and that henceforth the young hunter must look out for himself.

This incident, if it did not save Oscar's life, at least hastened his recovery, for the prompt measures he took to suppress the mutiny threw him into a perspiration, which broke up the fever so completely that he never even heard of it again.

Ten minutes before he would not have thought it possible for him to stand upon his feet; but now he jumped out of his cot with all his old-time activity, and, catching up one of his rifles, ordered his men to inspan and treck at once, and they made all haste to obey.

One would think that, in the face of such discouragements as these, Oscar would have lost all heart.

Well, he often was dispirited, and always lonely and homesick; but he stuck to his purpose with dogged determination, working faithfully every day and longing for the hour of his release.

It came at last, though long delayed, and it was with a feeling a little short of ecstatic that Oscar, one bright morning, ordered his men to inspan and strike out for Zurnst.

The minute instructions he had received from the committee, by which his movements had been governed during the whole of his stay in Africa, had been carried out to the very letter.

Every species of animal on the list which President Potter had given him was represented in his collection, either by a head or a whole specimen, and his time was up to a day.

"What more can they ask?" thought Oscar as, with a delicious feeling of relief, he took possession of his cot and watched his travel-worn cattle as they stepped briskly out over the blind trail—the trail his own wagon had made months before. "I've got everything they told me to get, and many things besides that they never thought of. I tell you, I have been through the mill since I passed along this route, headed the other way, but I have come out all right, and now, thank goodness, I am off for the coast and home! Treck along there, Thompson; the faster we travel the sooner we shall reach Maritzburg, you know."

Oscar stopped at his old camp long enough to off-load and give his wagon a good over-hauling, and then set out for Zurnst.

The acquaintances he had there made when he first came through had not forgotten him, but as they had received no word from him since he went away they had given him up for lost, and looked upon him as one risen from the dead. They listened in genuine astonishment to the stories of his adventures, and told him that he had done something that any old hunter might well be proud of. They denounced McCann's cowardice and treachery in the strongest terms, and promised to see to it that he did not impose upon any other traveller as he had imposed upon Oscar.

When he had reached Leichtberg Oscar mailed almost half a peck of letters which he had written at various times, and when he reached Mr. Lawrence's his heart was gladdened by the sight of almost as many more, addressed to himself, which had been forwarded to that gentleman's care by Mr. Donahue.

Oscar read these letters with no little anxiety. It was so long since he had heard from home, and so many things might have happened during that interval of silence!

But there was only one of them that contained any bad news, and that was from Sam Hynes, who, in a glowing obituary, which took up nearly a whole sheet of notepaper, conveyed to Oscar the news of Bugle's untimely death.

When Oscar read that he looked down at Ralph, the only remaining canine companion of his travels, the two worthless curs of which we have spoken having deserted him at Leichtberg. That sagacious animal was by no means a beauty. The long journey he had made across the burning sands, and the rough treatment he had received from his foes, had completely spoiled his good looks. But there was plenty of fight left in him, and Oscar decided on the instant that he should go home with him to fill Bugle's place.

The young hunter continued his journey with a light heart after reading those cheering letters from home. Even the dreaded Drackenberg, which now and then loomed up before his mental vision, had no terrors for him.

He had his wagon thoroughly repaired at Harrismith, in readiness for the ascent, crossed the pass in safety, and in due time drew up before the hotel in Maritzburg.

Mr. Dibbits was there to meet him, and so were Harris and his gang of swindlers, all of whom started as if they had seen a ghost.

"Why, Mr. Preston!" exclaimed the landlord as soon as he could speak.

"Yes, Mr. Dibbits, it is I; or, rather, all there is left of me," replied Oscar. "By the way, what became of our friend Colonel Dunhaven?"

"Colonel Dunhaven!" repeated the landlord, looking bewildered. "Oh, that was the gentleman who started for the interior the same time you did. Humph! he was a nice fellow to think of going into the wilderness, he was. His wagon got stalled up here in an ant-bear's hole, and he got discouraged, sold out, bag and baggage, and bundled himself off to old England."

Our hero thought of all he had passed through during the last two years, and told himself that that was the best thing the colonel could have done. A man who would allow himself to become discouraged as easily as that had no business in Africa.

Oscar passed but one night in Maritzburg, and what with dining and visiting with his friends, and fighting off Harris and his gang, who persisted in making him very inadequate offers for his outfit, and chaffing the landlord, who showed an overweening desire to learn how he had succeeded during his hunt, he had a lively time of it.

The next day he bagged a couple of white-necked ravens, and they were the last specimens he shot in Africa.

With the assistance of his good friend Mr. Morgan, Oscar succeeded in disposing of his outfit at very fair figures. He sold everything except Ralph and the double-barrelled rifle with which he had secured the most of his trophies.

Then he bade his friends good-by, and took passage on board the little coasting vessel for Cape Town, at which place he transferred himself and his belongings to a steamer bound for London.

From there he went to Liverpool, and after he had seen his boxes and bales stowed away in the hold of the vessel that was to take him and them to Boston he still had time to run up to "the lodge," to say good-by to his friend and mentor Captain Sterling.

The latter sat up all night listening to his stories, and would have been glad to keep him for a month; but Oscar had paid his passage, and so he was obliged to make the interview a short one.

The run across the Atlantic was accomplished without incident worthy of note, and in due time Oscar found himself and all his specimens in Yarmouth. He remained there long enough to give Mr. Adrian and the committee a hurried account of his experience, and then set out for Eaton, where a warm welcome awaited him.

He is there now, surrounded by all his old-time friends, enjoying a well-earned rest, and only waiting for the summer vacation to begin his wanderings again.

A scientific expedition, which is to be composed of some of the professors and students attached to Yarmouth University, is being organized to start for the Yellowstone country, and Oscar is to have charge of it.

He has already secured Big Thompson—the genuine Big Thompson—to act as guide, and that is a guaranty that the members of the expedition will see plenty of sport, even if they do not accomplish anything in a scientific way.

We doubt, however, if Oscar Preston will ever again take part in scenes so stirring and exciting as those of which he was the hero while he was hunting in Africa.

THE END.

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Table of Contents

- OSCAR IN AFRICA

- CONTENTS.

- CHAPTER I. AN INQUISITIVE LANDLORD.

- CHAPTER II. AFRICAN TREACHERY.

- CHAPTER III. A DISGUSTED SPORTSMAN.

- CHAPTER IV. THE MUSEUM.

- CHAPTER V. COMPLIMENTS AND ORDERS.

- CHAPTER VI. AN ENGLISH NIMROD.

- CHAPTER VII. OFF FOR AFRICA.

- CHAPTER VIII. AN INCIDENT OF THE PAST.

- CHAPTER IX. OSCAR MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.

- CHAPTER X. A BAFFLED SWINDLER.

- CHAPTER XI. OSCAR COMPLETES HIS OUTFIT.

- CHAPTER XII. OSCAR SEES A CHANCE TO GET EVEN.

- CHAPTER XIII. HOW OSCAR GOT EVEN.

- CHAPTER XIV. LETTERS FROM HOME.

- CHAPTER XV. A GOOD SHOT AND A SURPRISE.

- CHAPTER XVI. A TASTE OF CIVILIZED LIFE.

- CHAPTER XVII. A MIDNIGHT ALARM.

- CHAPTER XVIII. OSCAR REACHES HIS HUNTING-GROUNDS.

- CHAPTER XIX. A FIGHT AND A RETREAT.

- CHAPTER XX. A COWARDLY AFTER-RIDER.

- CHAPTER XXI. AN AFRICAN CONCERT.

- CHAPTER XXII. WHAT McCANN DID.

- CHAPTER XXIII. THE SENTINEL KOODOO.

- CHAPTER XXIV. THE BATTLE IN THE GROVE.

- CHAPTER XXV. MORE SPECIMENS.

- CHAPTER XXVI. A CALL FROM A HONEY-BIRD.

- CHAPTER XXVII. A SCRAP OF EVIDENCE.

- CHAPTER XXVIII. OSCAR SHOWS HIS COURAGE.

- CHAPTER XXIX. "THE CHARGE OF THE HEAVY BRIGADE."

- CHAPTER XXX. OSCAR'S ASSISTANT HUNTERS.

- CHAPTER XXXI. GOOD-BY, McCANN.

- CHAPTER XXXII. OFF FOR THE COAST.

- ADVERTISEMENT

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