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Updated: May 18, 2025
Hendrik! Hendrik!" As he called, a form rose up at his very feet, causing the weary horse to start back so violently that he almost threw his rider to the ground. "What in the name of the devil are you?" almost shrieked Frank Muller, whose nerves, indeed, were in no condition to bear fresh shocks.
Remember what the worshipful Hendrik Brant said to us yonder on that night at The Hague that he believed that in a day to come thousands and tens of thousands of our people would bless the gold he entrusted to us." "I remember it all," answered Foy, "and other things too; his will, for instance," and he thought of his father and of those hours which Martin and he had spent in the Gevangenhuis.
It could be fed upon the cow's milk, and, though it had lost both father and mother, Hendrik resolved that it should be carefully brought up. He had no difficulty in capturing it, as it refused to leave the spot where its mother lay, and Hendrik soon held the gentle creature in his arms.
It soon recovers, and may be easily "broken," though its spirit is generally broken at the same time. It is never "itself again." Hendrik understood the mode of "creasing." He had seen it practised by the boer-hunters. He knew the spot where the bullet should hit. He believed he could do it easily enough. Hans considered the "creasing" too cruel a mode.
The huge quadruped did not stop, till he had put many miles between himself and the scene of his disagreeable adventure! Von Bloom and Hendrik had by this time reloaded, and were advancing to Swartboy's rescue; but they were met right in the teeth by the swift-flying Bushman, as he returned from his miraculous escape.
The bow had been drawn at a venture but the shaft went home, for Dirk started and whispered: "Be silent, fool." Then he added aloud, "Guest! What guest?" "It is I, cousin Dirk, I, Elsa, Hendrik Brant's daughter," she said, sliding from her mule. "Elsa Brant!" ejaculated Dirk. "Why, how came you here?"
They had even followed him across the open ground into the bush, where Von Bloom awaited him. On hearing the shot, and seeing that the elephant was still unhurt, Swartboy's courage gave way; and leaving Hendrik, he ran back towards the mokhala grove, shouting as he went. His cries reached the ears of the elephant, that at once rushed off in the direction in which he heard them.
The two hunters, Groot Willem and Hendrik, on that night had not far to travel in order to obtain a sufficiency of their favourite sport. Attracted by the odour of the slain pachyderms, lions, hyenas, and jackals came prowling about the pool, loudly expressing their disapprobation of the fact that they themselves had not been invited to partake of the feast.
Hendrik went into the kitchen and reappeared with two bottles of Heineken. He waved Patrick over to a picnic table and opened the bottles with a pocket knife. He was a strong man with a brooding expression and a flattened nose. He looked like someone who might have painted a famous picture of a boxer. "Happy days," Hendrik said. "Prosit."
"I don't say that we have been acting like fools," said Arend; "but I will say that we deserve to be called nothing else, if we squander any more time in search of what fate has decreed that we are not to obtain." "Go on, Arend!" exclaimed Hendrik. "I could not talk more sensibly myself."
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