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.