thing more to do with them.

The folly of having left their property unprotected, when in the
neighbourhood of African tribes whose honesty could not be relied on,
now, for the first time, occurred to our adventurers.

The Bechuanas, who will steal from each other, or from the people of any
nation, in all probability would not have taken the cattle, had one of
the whites been present to claim ownership in them.

The Bechuana robbers had found them in the possession of only four
strange men, Africans, who belonged far north, and had no right to be
within Bechuana territory. The opportunity was too good to be lost,
and, so tempted, they had driven the animals away.

There could be no help for what had happened,--at all events, not for
the present. To discover the whereabouts of Willem was the care that
was most pressing, and they one more proceeded in search of him.

As the night had now come on they could have done nothing of themselves,
but the presence of Congo, accompanied by his hound Spoor'em, inspired
them with fresh hope, and they proceeded onward.

After a time it became so dark that Arend proposed a halt until morning.
To this Hendrik objected, Congo taking sides with him.

"Do you remember the night you were under the baobab-tree, dodging the
borele?" asked Hendrik.

"Say no more," answered Arend. "If you wish it I am willing to go on."

Swartboy was sent back to the camp to join Hans, while the Kaffir and
Spoor'em led the way. Under the direction of Hendrik they soon came to
the place where Willem had been last seen. There were no signs of him
anywhere.

The joy with which they had returned to their camp had now departed.
Something unusual had happened to their companion,--something
disastrous. Their cattle and pack-horses were lost, driven away they
knew not whither, by a tribe that might be able to retain them, even
should they be found.

Under these circumstances what cared they any longer for the captured
giraffe.

Such were the reveries of Hendrik and Arend as they followed their
Kaffir guide through the gloom of the night.

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX.

THE SEARCH FOR WILLEM.

To all appearance, Congo had some secret method of communicating to the
dog Spoor'em what was required of him. The animal ran to the right and
left, keeping a little in the advance, and with its muzzle close down to
the surface, as if searching for a spoor. Most of the time it was out
of sight, hidden by the da