A well-known proverb says that “misfortunes seldom come single.”

On nearing the camp, the hunters could perceive that all was not right there. They saw Totty with Trüey and Jan standing by the head of the ladder; but there was something in their manner that told that all was not right. Where was Hans?

As soon as the hunters came in sight, Jan and Trüey ran down the rounds, and out to meet them. There was that in their glances that bespoke ill tidings, and their words soon confirmed this conjecture.

Hans was not there—he had gone away hours ago—they knew not where, they feared something had happened to him,—they feared he was lost!

“But what took him away from the camp?” asked Von Bloom, surprised and troubled at the news.

That, and only that, could they answer. A number of odd-looking animals—very odd-looking, the children said,—had come to the vley to drink. Hans had taken his gun and followed them in a great hurry, telling Trüey and Jan to keep in the tree, and not come down until he returned. He would be gone only a very little while, and they needn’t fear.

This was all they knew. They could not even tell what direction he had taken. He went by the lower end of the vley; but soon the bushes hid him from their view, and they saw no more of him.

“At what time was it?”

It was many hours ago,—in the morning in fact,—not long after the hunters themselves had started. When he did not return the children grew uneasy; but they thought he had fallen in with papa and Hendrik, and was helping them to hunt; and that was the reason why he stayed so long.

“Had they heard any report of a gun?” No—they had listened for that, but heard none. The animals had gone away before Hans could get his gun ready; and they supposed he had to follow some distance before he could overtake them—that might be the reason they had heard no shot.

“What sort of animals were they?” They had all seen them plain enough, as they drank. They had never seen any of the kind before. They were large animals of a yellow brown colour, with shaggy manes, and long tufts of hair growing out of their breasts, and hanging down between their fore-legs. They were as big as ponies, said Jan, and very like ponies. They curvetted and capered about just as ponies do sometimes. Trüey thought that they looked more like lions!

“Lions!” ejaculated her father and Hendrik, with an accent that betokened alarm.

Indeed, they reminded her of lions, Trüey again affirmed, and Totty said the same. “How many were there of them?”

“Oh! a great drove, not less than fifty.” They could not have counted them, as they were constantly in motion, galloping from place to place, and butting each other with their horns.

“Ha! they had horns then?” interrogated Von Bloom, relieved by this announcement.

Certainly they had horns, replied all three.

They had seen the horns, sharp-pointed ones, which first came down, and then turned upwards in front of the animals’ faces. They had manes too, Jan affirmed; and thick necks that curved like that of a beautiful horse; and tufts of hair like brushes upon their noses; and nice round bodies like ponies, and long white tails that reached near the ground, just like the tails of ponies, and finely-shaped limbs as ponies have.

“I tell you,” continued Jan, with emphasis, “if it hadn’t been for their horns and the brushes of long hair upon their breasts and noses, I’d have taken them for ponies before anything. They galloped about just like ponies when playing, and ran with their heads down, curving their necks and tossing their manes,—ay, and snorting too, as I’ve heard ponies; but sometimes they bellowed more like bulls; and, I confess, they looked a good deal like bulls about the head; besides I noticed they had hoofs split like cattle. Oh! I had a good look at them while Hans was loading his gun. They stayed by the water till he was nearly ready; and when they galloped off, they went in a long string one behind the other with the largest one in front, and another large one in the rear.”

“Wildebeests!” exclaimed Hendrik.

“Gnoos!” cried Swartboy.

“Yes, they must have been wildebeests,” said Von Bloom; “Jan’s description corresponds exactly to them.”

This was quite true. Jan had correctly given many of the characteristic points of that, perhaps, the most singular of all ruminant animals, the wildebeest or gnoo (Catoblepas gnoo). The brushlike tuft over the muzzle, the long hair between the fore-legs, the horns curving down over the face, and then sweeping abruptly upward, the thick curving neck, the rounded, compact, horse-shaped body, the long whitish tail, and full flowing mane—all were descriptive of the gnoo.

Even Trüey had not made such an unpardonable mistake. The gnoos, and particularly the old bulls, bear a very striking resemblance to the lion, so much so that the sharpest hunters at a distance can scarce tell one from the other.

Jan, however, had observed them better than Trüey; and had they bee............