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.