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Updated: May 29, 2025
Holland, unlike France, is a lie-abed country, and at an hour when a French town would be astir and its streets already thronged with people hurrying to buy or sell at the greatest possible advantage, a Dutch city is still asleep. Park Straat was almost deserted as Cornish walked briskly down it towards the Willem's Park and Scheveningen.
The voice was Willem's, and "Tootla" was the name of one of the young giraffes! Congo made a desperate effort to free his hands from their fastenings, as well as to remove the stick that was distending his jaws. The struggle was in vain. There appeared no way by which he could sound an alarm and let his friends know that he was near. He could think of none. They were leaving him.
Willem's wish was to obtain two young giraffes; and his three companions found that there was no chance of his relinquishing his design, at least, not for many days. Two more were passed upon the spot, and then our young adventurers, who, although young in years, were old in friendship, came very near parting company.
Willem's horse, as belonging to the chief of the party, should be supplied first, and was led away by the man, its owner following at its heels. A short distance from the kraal they came to a well, from which a covering of earth had recently been removed. The well, for some purpose, had been concealed, as if it were a pitfall for the capturing of elephants.
Why should there be now? There was but one answer to these questions. The natives were looking upon them with that expression of sad curiosity with which men gaze upon one who is about to suffer a violent death. The chief was carrying Willem's roer, and from his behaviour he seemed preparing for an opportunity to use it. At intervals he brought it to his shoulder and glanced along the barrel.
"If so, he is what Swartboy calls Congo, an 'ole fool! I'm sorry we can't oblige him by paying him a visit, and rewarding him for his prolonged vigil." Willem's attempt at being witty was intended to cheer his disconsolate companions. But it was a sad failure. Neither could reply to it even by a smile. All day long did they stay on the islet of stone.
A few hundred yards were all our start. They had the descent of the opposite hill as yet in their favour. One man, astride on a better horse than the rest, galloped on in front and came within range of us. He had a rifle in his hand, he pointed it twice, and covered us. But he did not shoot. Hilda gave a cry of relief. "Don't you see?" she exclaimed. "It is Oom Jan Willem's rifle!
They appeared to think that the trouble of fighting dogs was not so great as that of returning up the mountain; but at the first report of Groot Willem's roer, they scattered off after a fashion that left the dogs not the slightest chance of overtaking them. Only one of them remained behind, and it was the animal that had received the shot.
Swartboy explained to him the circumstances under which it had been found; and at Willem's request advised the Bechuanas never again to molest the property of other people.
Arend and Hendrik knew this, though still uncertain about being on the traces of Groot Willem. The night was so dark they could not distinguish footmarks, and they had not the slightest evidence of their own for believing that they were on the tracks of Willem's horse. "How do you know that we are going right, Cong?" asked Hendrik. "We follow Spoor'em; he know it," answered the Kaffir.
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