Chapter Five.

Chapter Five.Dan’s Doubts.It had been a long slow journey, but every day as they ascended, the weather, though hot, was tempered by crisp breezes which the doctor declared to be a joy to breathe.“Health, boys,” he said. “Why, can’t you feel that you are growing and enjoying life? If you want any proof of the healthiness of the country, look at that sailor.”“Yes; isn’t it wonderful!” cried Mark.“Yes,” said Dean; “uncle was talking about it only this morning. He asked me if I didn’t see how his colour was altering.”“Oh, that’s only the sun,” said Mark.“Think so?” said the doctor, smiling. “I think it’s more than that.”“But it was getting out of that nasty damp oven of a port,” said Mark. “I felt horrible there, and as if I should be ill if we stopped.”“So did I,” added Dean; “and didn’t it make—” The boy paused for a moment as if hesitating.“Well, didn’t it make what?””—Mark disagreeable,” said the boy, with a merry, mischievous look.“Oh, come, I like that!” cried Mark. “Why, you must have noticed, doctor. Dean was nearly always half asleep, and when he was awake he did nothing but find fault.”A short time after, when the boys were alone, Mark suddenly turned sharply upon his cousin with, “I say, why did you stop short when we were talking to the doctor?”Dean turned rather red.“What do you mean?” he asked.“What do I mean? You know.”“I know?”“Yes; you were going to say that father was dreadfully cross all the time. Come, confess.”“Well,” said Dean hesitating, “I am afraid I did think something of the kind.”“Afraid! Why, you did, you beggar, and then packed it all on to my shoulders. Hullo, here comes Mann—man—handy man—Daniel Mann—Dan Mann. What a rum name! Hasn’t been very handy yet, though.”“I say, don’t! You will have him hear what you say.”“I don’t care. Let him! I wasn’t saying any harm about him, poor chap. He’s coming to us—wants to say something, I suppose.”The conversation was taking place just outside the so-called hotel, though the boys had dubbed it the tin tabernacle—a rough, hastily-built house that had been fitted up by an enterprising trader, where the party found temporary accommodation.“Well, Daniel? Feel better?”“Dan, please, sir. My mates never put any ‘yel’ at the end of my name.”“That isn’t the end,” said Mark sharply. “That’s the middle. Well, do you feel better?”“Feel better, sir?” said the man, whose miserably pallid face was overspread for the moment by a warm glow, while the tears of gratitude stood in his eyes. “Why, every morning since we came up I have seemed to be coming to life again.”“Well, don’t cry about it,” said Mark shortly.“Oh, that’s nothing, sir,” said the man, using the back of both fists to brush away the signs of his emotion. “That’s only being so weak, sir. Don’t you take any notice of that. You see, I have been going backwards and getting quite like a kid again. And oh, gentlemen, it was a lucky day for me when I run against you two.”“Stop!” cried Mark angrily. “This is the third time you have begun talking to us like this, and we won’t stand it; will we, Dean?”“No, that we won’t,” cried his cousin. “Here, Daniel—Dan, I mean—”“Thank you, sir. That’s better.”“You wait a bit. I had not finished,” continued Mark. “If ever you say another word to us, whether we are together or whether we are alone, about being grateful, and that sort of thing, I shall say you are a canting humbug—at least, my cousin will; I shouldn’t like to be so harsh.”Dean dug his elbow into his cousin’s ribs at this.“And we don’t want to think that of you,” continued Mark. “I say, though, you do look a lot better.”“I am, sir,” said the man, smiling. “And now we have got up here, sir, I want you to ask Sir James and the doctor to set me to work.”“Why, you are too weak yet.”“Weak, sir? Not so weak as that. ’Sides, doing a bit of hauling or something of that kind will help to get me in sailing trim once more. Why, arter all these long weeks lying by and feeling that I should never be a man again—why, the very sound of doing something sets one longing.”“Well, you go on getting better.”“Better, sir! I am better,” cried the man sharply. “I know I don’t look thin and like a fellow on the sick list, but the time I overhauled you down there at the port I felt like a walking shadder.”“Ah, that’s the doctor’s physic,” said Dean.“Physic, sir? Why, he never give me none—nothing but some white stuff—ten drips as he let drop carefully out of a little bottle. No, sir, it warn’t that, but getting up here where one could breathe, and now instead of lying awake in the dark with the mysture running off one’s face in drops, I just put my head down of a night feeling the cold air blowing over one, and the next minute I am fast asleep.”“Yes, one can sleep here,” said Mark, “sound as a top.”“Yes, sir; same here, sir. Oh, I shall be all right in a day or two, sir, if I can get to work. I don’t hold with hanging about with them two men of yourn looking at me as if I warn’t worth my salt.”“Do they?” said Mark sharply.“Well, perhaps it arn’t that, sir, but that’s what I feel.”“But look here,” cried Mark; “aren’t they civil to you? Because we are not going to stand that; are we, Dean?”“Certainly not.”“Beg pardon, sir; please don’t you go a-thinking that I’m a-finding fault.”“You look here,” said Mark. “If they—”“Oh, I beg your pardon, sir,” said the man. “You see, it’s like this; you picked me up, quite a stranger, and it’s quite nat’ral that they shouldn’t like a chap on the sick list stuck along with them all at once.”“It’s no business of theirs,” said Mark shortly. “They have come out here with us to do their duty; and just now it’s their duty to do what’s right by you, and if my father or the doctor knew that—what?”“Well, sir, I daresay I’m wrong, but I’ve got it into my head that one of them feels a bit jealous like that I’m going to step into his shoes and that he’ll be dismissed his ship.”“Pshaw!” ejaculated Mark angrily. “He has no right to think anything of the kind. You three have got to work together and be like messmates, as you sailors call it.”“That’s right, sir; messmates is the word; but—” The man stopped.“Well, out with it,” said Mark. “What were you going to say?”“Well, sir,” said the man, hesitating, and he turned now to look half appealingly at Dean, “you see, sir, I am a bit weak still in the head.”“Of course you are! Then go on getting strong.”“Thankye, sir; that’s what I am doing,” said the man; “but I can’t help every now and then thinking that all this ’ere is too good to be true, and that as soon as Sir James and the doctor thinks that I’m all right again they will say, ‘There, my lad, you are about fit to shift for yourself, and you can go.’”“Oh, I see,” said Mark sarcastically.“Yes, sir, that’s it,” said the man, with a sigh.“Now, let’s see,” said Mark, and he gave his cousin a peculiar look; “I suppose, fairly speaking, it will take about a month before you are quite right again.”“Bless your heart, sir, not it! Fortnight, more likely; I should say about a week.”“Well, I hope that in a month’s time—for that’s what I’ll give you; eh, Dean?”“Oh, quite,” said his cousin decisively.“Well, I will put it at three weeks,” said Mark, “and by that time I hope we shall be a couple of hundred miles farther up the country, with the ponies and the waggons and the teams of oxen all with us in travelling trim, right away in the wild country, where there’s no settlement—not a house—nothing but here and there one of the blacks’ camps—kraals, as they call them; eh, Dean?”“Yes, that’s right.”“Well, then, at the end of that time—oh, I shall make it a month—”The man drew a deep breath.“And then my father will have a quiet chat with the doctor and take his opinion. He always goes by Dr Robertson’s opinion, doesn’t he, Dean?”“Always,” said his cousin.“And then he’ll what slang people call sack you. You sailors don’t say sack, do you?”“No, sir,” said the man sadly. “When I was in the Royal Navy we used to call it being paid off.”“Well, it doesn’t matter,” said Mark. “Then of course when we are hundreds of miles from everywhere my father will pay you off.”“Oh, no, sir,” said the man earnestly, “I don’t expect no pay.”“Never mind what you expect. My father, I say, will tell you to be off and shift for yourself and get back to that moist oven of a port the best way you can. Won’t he, Dean?”Dean caught his cousin’s eye, and said decisively, “Yes, of course. That’s just like uncle;” and by means of an effort he kept his face straight, looking, as Mark afterwards told him, like a badly carved piece of solid mahogany.“Yes, sir,” said the man sadly; “and I daresay I shall be able to steer my way right enough, and for all his kindness I shall be very thankful, and—”“Yah!” shouted Mark. “Didn’t I tell you that if ever you spoke again like that I’d—I’d—”“I beg your pardon, sir.”“This chap’s very weak still in his head, Dean, or else he would not dare to think that an English gentleman would behave like a cad. There, man Dan—no, I mean Dan Mann—just make up your mind that you are in for this trip with all its troubles and hard work.”“Do you mean it, sir?” cried the man, and he looked from one to the other.“Mean it? Why, of course we do. So never say anything about it again. Ah, here come father and the doctor. Would you like to ask them if what we say is true?”“Not now, sir,” said the man. “I am a bit weak still, more shaky than I thought.”The poor fellow’s voice sounded very husky during the last few words, and he hurried away, watched by the boys.“I say, Dean, he’s better,” said Mark. “He could not walk like that a fortnight ago. Do you know, I begin to like that chap. He’s rather comic looking, but he is such a regular sailor.”“Yes,” said Dean, “with quite a sailor’s frank boyish sort of way.”“Like you, eh?” said Mark.“Get out! Don’t chaff. Present company always excepted. I wasn’t thinking about you. But I say, didn’t he take it all in as innocent as could be about uncle setting him adrift out in the wilds?”“Yes.—Well, father, how many bullocks have you bought?”“Forty-eight, my boy. Fine ones.”“Forty-eight!” cried the boys, in a breath. “Twenty-four in a span.”“Precious long span, uncle,” said Dean, laughing, as he stretched from thumb tip to little finger measuring along his arm.“Yes, rather,” said the doctor. “They are long spans; but we are obliged to provide against loss. Like to come and see them, boys?”“Of course!” they cried, in a breath.

It had been a long slow journey, but every day as they ascended, the weather, though hot, was tempered by crisp breezes which the doctor declared to be a joy to breathe.

“Health, boys,” he said. “Why, can’t you feel that you are growing and enjoying life? If you want any proof of the healthiness of the country, look at that sailor.”

“Yes; isn’t it wonderful!” cried Mark.

“Yes,” said Dean; “uncle was talking about it only this morning. He asked me if I didn’t see how his colour was altering.”

“Oh, that’s only the sun,” said Mark.

“Think so?” said the doctor, smiling. “I think it’s more than that.”

“But it was getting out of that nasty damp oven of a port,” said Mark. “I felt horrible there, and as if I should be ill if we stopped.”

“So did I,” added Dean; “and didn’t it make—” The boy paused for a moment as if hesitating.

“Well, didn’t it make what?”

”—Mark disagreeable,” said the boy, with a merry, mischievous look.

“Oh, come, I like that!” cried Mark. “Why, you must have noticed, doctor. Dean was nearly always half asleep, and when he was awake he did nothing but find fault.”

A short time after, when the boys were alone, Mark suddenly turned sharply upon his cousin with, “I say, why did you stop short when we were talking to the doctor?”

Dean turned rather red.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“What do I mean? You know.”

“I know?”

“Yes; you were going to say that father was dreadfully cross all the time. Come, confess.”

“Well,” said Dean hesitating, “I am afraid I did think something of the kind.”

“Afraid! Why, you did, you beggar, and then packed it all on to my shoulders. Hullo, here comes Mann—man—handy man—Daniel Mann—Dan Mann. What a rum name! Hasn’t been very handy yet, though.”

“I say, don’t! You will have him hear what you say.”

“I don’t care. Let him! I wasn’t saying any harm about him, poor chap. He’s coming to us—wants to say something, I suppose.”

The conversation was taking place just outside the so-called hotel, though the boys had dubbed it the tin tabernacle—a rough, hastily-built house that had been fitted up by an enterprising trader, where the party found temporary accommodation.

“Well, Daniel? Feel better?”

“Dan, please, sir. My mates never put any ‘yel’ at the end of my name.”

“That isn’t the end,” said Mark sharply. “That’s the middle. Well, do you feel better?”

“Feel better, sir?” said the man, whose miserably pallid face was overspread for the moment by a warm glow, while the tears of gratitude stood in his eyes. “Why, every morning since we came up I have seemed to be coming to life again.”

“Well, don’t cry about it,” said Mark shortly.

“Oh, that’s nothing, sir,” said the man, using the back of both fists to brush away the signs of his emotion. “That’s only being so weak, sir. Don’t you take any notice of that. You see, I have been going backwards and getting quite like a kid again. And oh, gentlemen, it was a lucky day for me when I run against you two.”

“Stop!” cried Mark angrily. “This is the third time you have begun talking to us like this, and we won’t stand it; will we, Dean?”

“No, that we won’t,” cried his cousin. “Here, Daniel—Dan, I mean—”

“Thank you, sir. That’s better.”

“You wait a bit. I had not finished,” continued Mark. “If ever you say another word to us, whether we are together or whether we are alone, about being grateful, and that sort of thing, I shall say you are a canting humbug—at least, my cousin will; I shouldn’t like to be so harsh.”

Dean dug his elbow into his cousin’s ribs at this.

“And we don’t want to think that of you,” continued Mark. “I say, though, you do look a lot better.”

“I am, sir,” said the man, smiling. “And now we have got up here, sir, I want you to ask Sir James and the doctor to set me to work.”

“Why, you are too weak yet.”

“Weak, sir? Not so weak as that. ’Sides, doing a bit of hauling or something of that kind will help to get me in sailing trim once more. Why, arter all these long weeks lying by and feeling that I should never be a man again—why, the very sound of doing something sets one longing.”

“Well, you go on getting better.”

“Better, sir! I am better,” cried the man sharply. “I know I don’t look thin and like a fellow on the sick list, but the time I overhauled you down there at the port I felt like a walking shadder.”

“Ah, that’s the doctor’s physic,” said Dean.

“Physic, sir? Why, he never give me none—nothing but some white stuff—ten drips as he let drop carefully out of a little bottle. No, sir, it warn’t that, but getting up here where one could breathe, and now instead of lying awake in the dark with the mysture running off one’s face in drops, I just put my head down of a night feeling the cold air blowing over one, and the next minute I am fast asleep.”

“Yes, one can sleep here,” said Mark, “sound as a top.”

“Yes, sir; same here, sir. Oh, I shall be all right in a day or two, sir, if I can get to work. I don’t hold with hanging about with them two men of yourn looking at me as if I warn’t worth my salt.”

“Do they?” said Mark sharply.

“Well, perhaps it arn’t that, sir, but that’s what I feel.”

“But look here,” cried Mark; “aren’t they civil to you? Because we are not going to stand that; are we, Dean?”

“Certainly not.”

“Beg pardon, sir; please don’t you go a-thinking that I’m a-finding fault.”

“You look here,” said Mark. “If they—”

“Oh, I beg your pardon, sir,” said the man. “You see, it’s like this; you picked me up, quite a stranger, and it’s quite nat’ral that they shouldn’t like a chap on the sick list stuck along with them all at once.”

“It’s no business of theirs,” said Mark shortly. “They have come out here with us to do their duty; and just now it’s their duty to do what’s right by you, and if my father or the doctor knew that—what?”

“Well, sir, I daresay I’m wrong, but I’ve got it into my head that one of them feels a bit jealous like that I’m going to step into his shoes and that he’ll be dismissed his ship.”

“Pshaw!” ejaculated Mark angrily. “He has no right to think anything of the kind. You three have got to work together and be like messmates, as you sailors call it.”

“That’s right, sir; messmates is the word; but—” The man stopped.

“Well, out with it,” said Mark. “What were you going to say?”

“Well, sir,” said the man, hesitating, and he turned now to look half appealingly at Dean, “you see, sir, I am a bit weak still in the head.”

“Of course you are! Then go on getting strong.”

“Thankye, sir; that’s what I am doing,” said the man; “but I can’t help every now and then thinking that all this ’ere is too good to be true, and that as soon as Sir James and the doctor thinks that I’m all right again they will say, ‘There, my lad, you are about fit to shift for yourself, and you can go.’”

“Oh, I see,” said Mark sarcastically.

“Yes, sir, that’s it,” said the man, with a sigh.

“Now, let’s see,” said Mark, and he gave his cousin a peculiar look; “I suppose, fairly speaking, it will take about a month before you are quite right again.”

“Bless your heart, sir, not it! Fortnight, more likely; I should say about a week.”

“Well, I hope that in a month’s time—for that’s what I’ll give you; eh, Dean?”

“Oh, quite,” said his cousin decisively.

“Well, I will put it at three weeks,” said Mark, “and by that time I hope we shall be a couple of hundred miles farther up the country, with the ponies and the waggons and the teams of oxen all with us in travelling trim, right away in the wild country, where there’s no settlement—not a house—nothing but here and there one of the blacks’ camps—kraals, as they call them; eh, Dean?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Well, then, at the end of that time—oh, I shall make it a month—”

The man drew a deep breath.

“And then my father will have a quiet chat with the doctor and take his opinion. He always goes by Dr Robertson’s opinion, doesn’t he, Dean?”

“Always,” said his cousin.

“And then he’ll what slang people call sack you. You sailors don’t say sack, do you?”

“No, sir,” said the man sadly. “When I was in the Royal Navy we used to call it being paid off.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” said Mark. “Then of course when we are hundreds of miles from everywhere my father will pay you off.”

“Oh, no, sir,” said the man earnestly, “I don’t expect no pay.”

“Never mind what you expect. My father, I say, will tell you to be off and shift for yourself and get back to that moist oven of a port the best way you can. Won’t he, Dean?”

Dean caught his cousin’s eye, and said decisively, “Yes, of course. That’s just like uncle;” and by means of an effort he kept his face straight, looking, as Mark afterwards told him, like a badly carved piece of solid mahogany.

“Yes, sir,” said the man sadly; “and I daresay I shall be able to steer my way right enough, and for all his kindness I shall be very thankful, and—”

“Yah!” shouted Mark. “Didn’t I tell you that if ever you spoke again like that I’d—I’d—”

“I beg your pardon, sir.”

“This chap’s very weak still in his head, Dean, or else he would not dare to think that an English gentleman would behave like a cad. There, man Dan—no, I mean Dan Mann—just make up your mind that you are in for this trip with all its troubles and hard work.”

“Do you mean it, sir?” cried the man, and he looked from one to the other.

“Mean it? Why, of course we do. So never say anything about it again. Ah, here come father and the doctor. Would you like to ask them if what we say is true?”

“Not now, sir,” said the man. “I am a bit weak still, more shaky than I thought.”

The poor fellow’s voice sounded very husky during the last few words, and he hurried away, watched by the boys.

“I say, Dean, he’s better,” said Mark. “He could not walk like that a fortnight ago. Do you know, I begin to like that chap. He’s rather comic looking, but he is such a regular sailor.”

“Yes,” said Dean, “with quite a sailor’s frank boyish sort of way.”

“Like you, eh?” said Mark.

“Get out! Don’t chaff. Present company always excepted. I wasn’t thinking about you. But I say, didn’t he take it all in as innocent as could be about uncle setting him adrift out in the wilds?”

“Yes.—Well, father, how many bullocks have you bought?”

“Forty-eight, my boy. Fine ones.”

“Forty-eight!” cried the boys, in a breath. “Twenty-four in a span.”

“Precious long span, uncle,” said Dean, laughing, as he stretched from thumb tip to little finger measuring along his arm.

“Yes, rather,” said the doctor. “They are long spans; but we are obliged to provide against loss. Like to come and see them, boys?”

“Of course!” they cried, in a breath.

Chapter Six.How to handle a Whip.Sir James turned back with the doctor, and soon after the boys were intently examining the drove of nearly fifty beautiful, sleek, well-bred oxen in their kraal, where they were in charge of their drivers, one a big, bluff, manly-looking fellow, well bronzed by the sun, and with Englishman stamped upon every feature, forming a striking contrast to his companion, a flat-nosed, half-bred Hottentot, who grinned at them stupidly.“We just want another look round, my lad,” said the doctor.“All right, sir,” said the big driver, endorsing his appearance by his speech; and taking the lead, he showed the little party and expatiated upon the qualities of the leading and pole oxen, upon how sleek and well they looked, and gave to each its name, while the Hottentot driver, who confined himself to Dutch, helped to call up bullock after bullock, all of which answered sluggishly to their names.Then the boys were made acquainted with the novelties, to them, of dissel-boom, trek-tow, and yokes.“But I say,” cried Mark, “you don’t call that a whip, do you?” And he pointed to one that might have been used in Brobdingnag.“Yes, sir; that’s the whip,” said the Englishman, laughing. “You see, one wants a long one to touch up an ox who may be the leader twelve bullocks’ lengths away from where you are sitting on the box.”“Let’s try,” said Mark.The man smiled as he took down and handed the gigantic thong.“Mind what you are doing, sir,” he said. “A waggon whip is rather an awkward thing, until you are used to it; but when you are you know it is a nice, neat, handy little tool. You see, it’s a two-handed weapon.”“That’s plain enough,” said Dean, laughing. “Let’s have a try after you, Mark.”“Yes,” said his cousin, giving the whip a wave round, its heavy lash whistling through the air.“Here, stop!” cried Sir James angrily. “What do you think you are doing? Salmon fishing? It’s a good thing, doctor, that there’s no hook at the end.”“Oh, I’m very sorry, father,” said the boy, colouring.“Very sorry, indeed! Why, you nearly cut my ear off. Here, doctor, we had better go.”“No, no, don’t go, father. I won’t try any more;” and Mark hastily handed the great whip back to the driver.“Here, but I want to try,” said Dean.“Well, you are not going to try now,” said his uncle, half irritably. “You will have plenty of chances, both of you, when you have got a field to yourselves. You will be scaring the bullocks.”“All right, sir,” said the big fellow, replacing the whip by the great tilted waggon. “I’ll teach you how to handle it when we get out on the veldt. Like me to show you, perhaps, now?”“No, no,” said Sir James; “not while we are here.”“It’s quite safe, sir,” said the man good-humouredly. “I could give a flip to any one of the bullocks you like to point out without the thong coming near anybody.”“Oh, let him, please, father.”“Very well,” said Sir James, rather grumpily. “Shall we stand farther off?”“Oh, no, sir,” replied the man.“Let’s pick out that one with the white nose,” whispered Dean. “I don’t believe he can hit it;” and he pointed to one fat beast that was standing almost alone blinking its eyes and ruminating over its cud.“Yes; hit that one,” said Mark.The man seemed to give the long whip an easy wave in the air, and the point of the lash alighted on the bullock’s smooth neck, making the animal start and toss its head; and then in response to a command which sounded likeBarrk, it slowly sidled close up to the nearest of its fellows, and then went on chewing the cud again.“Ay, ay, Jacob!” shouted the driver, and he uttered a few words in a patois that was probably a composition of Dutch and Hottentot, which made the little yellow flat-nosed driver come shambling up, grinning, to take the big whip pitched to him and go off to a distance of some five-and-twenty yards, where, after uttering a few incomprehensible cries which had the effect of making such of the bullocks as were crouching in the sand rise slowly to their feet and sidle up together, the strange looking driver gave the whip a wave or two where he stood, and began to crack it, at everywhishproducing what sounded like a series of rifle shots, watching the English driver the while until he was told to desist.“Bravo!” cried Mark, and Dean clapped his hands.“I say, can you crack a whip like that?” cried Dean.“Oh, yes, sir. Teach you too, if you like.”“Well, I do like,” said the boy; “but when uncle isn’t here.”When the interiors of the two great tilted waggons that were close at hand had been examined with some curiosity, as they were to be storehouses and dwelling-places combined, the little party went off in another direction, Mark eagerly enquiring what was to be their destination now.“Oh, I was going to show you the little cobs the doctor has bought—ponies, I suppose I ought to call them.”“What, has he got them already?” cried Mark.“Oh, yes; it has been very short work,” said the doctor. “The officer who has charge of the little garrison here introduced me to a dealer, and I think we have been very fortunate to meet a gentleman who was well acquainted with the ways of the settlers here, for he has given me some very good hints, and in addition promised to have a guide found who was hanging about the camp and is now waiting here after being up the country with a hunting party who left for Beira about a fortnight ago. He is one of the Illakas, Sir James,” continued the doctor, “and it seems that he has been expelled from his tribe for being friendly to the English.”“Quite a savage, then,” said Sir James.“Oh, yes; I suppose he is a pure-blooded black, and knows the country well. Let me see, we must turn down in this direction, I think. Yes—pass that corrugated iron shed-like house—to be sure, that’s it—and there’s the man the ponies belong to.”He nodded in the direction of a little keen-looking man who appeared rather mushroom-like, thanks to the well-worn, broad-leafed felt hat he wore. He was leaning over a rough enclosure in which four ponies were browsing, and keenly watching the approaching party as he smoked.As soon as he realised that they were coming in his direction he took his pipe from his mouth, tapped the ashes out upon a post, took off his hat and stuck the short pipe in the band.“Come to have a look at the ponies, gentlemen?” he said.“Yes,” said Sir James; “I want my son and nephew to have a look at them and try them.”“I see,” said the man, scanning the boys attentively. “My man isn’t here. Like them saddled and bridled?”Sir James looked at the two boys, as the man continued, “Can the young gentlemen ride?”He glanced at the doctor as he spoke.“Yes,” said the latter quietly; “after our fashion in England. Well broken horses. But they can’t ride wild beasts.”“Well, no, captain; nobody expects that; but I shall have to keep you waiting a bit while I have my man found, and send him to borrow a saddle and bridle. I have only got two, and one of the officers from up at the barracks and his friend have got them for the day. I have plenty of halters, and I can clap a rug on one of the ponies. What do you say to that, young gentlemen?”“I’d rather have one without the rug,” said Mark, “if they are quiet.”“Quiet as lambs, sir, as long as you don’t play any larks with them.”“Oh, we shan’t play any tricks,” said Mark.“That’s right, sir. Out here we like to treat a pony well. They are scarce, and worth their money. I am afraid, sir,” continued the man, turning to the doctor, “that I did not charge enough for them.”“But you don’t want to draw back from your bargain?” said the doctor sternly. “I paid you the price you asked.”“Yes, sir. The captain up yonder brought you to me as English friends, and him and his officers are good customers to me. No, I am not going to ask more. Only I will go as far as this: if you bring them back to me sound and in a fair condition I will take them again at the price. Here, one of you,” he shouted to a group of idlers who had sauntered up to the fence of the enclosure, “go to the house and ask the missis to give you a couple of halters and a horse rug. My chap, Browne, has gone to meet the officers.”One of the men sauntered off quietly, leaving the party of strangers to walk across the kraal, the boys keenly examining the little browsing animals.“Well, doctor,” said Sir James, “I must say I admire your choice. They are beautiful little creatures, and I hope that they have no vice.”“Vice! Not they, sir,” said their late owner, as the ponies upon being approached lifted their heads to stare at the visitors for a few moments and then go on browsing at the low-growing bushes that formed their feed. “This don’t look like vice, does it, sir?” said the man, thrusting his hand into his pocket and drawing it out full of maize.One of the ponies raised its head, stretched out its neck in the direction of the extended hand, and trotted up.“These mealies are rather a hard bite for them, sir, but this lot are very fond of a taste, and I let them have one now and then; but of course you will always have a few sacks handy.—Now, young gentlemen, try this one,” and he poured some of the golden grain into Mark’s hand. “You too, sir,” he continued, and he brought out some more to trickle into Dean’s.There was no doubt so far in the tameness of the two ponies, which fed quietly enough from the boys’ hands and submitted to being handled, patted and held by their thick forelocks or manes.By this time the dealer’s messenger had returned with a couple of halters.“Missis can’t find a horse rug,” said the man surlily.“Never mind; we can do without, I daresay. But just be on the lookout, and if you see my Browne send him to me. Now then, gentlemen, like to try barebacked?”“Yes,” said Mark; and as soon as a halter had been thrown over one of the ponies’ heads the dealer handed the end to him.“Oh, come,” he said, “not the first time you have been on a pony;” for Mark held up one leg, which the man took in his hand and gave him a hoist; and the boy making a spring at the same time dropped on the pony’s glossy back, but like vaulting ambition overleaped himself and rolled over on the other side, startling the pony into making off. But the dealer made a snatch at the halter, just in time, and it stopped short, snorting.“Hurt, my boy?” cried Sir James, anxiously.“No, father; only vexed,” said the boy, dusting the sand from his flannels. “Now then,” he continued, to the dealer, “you hoisted me too hard.”“Going to have another try?”“Why, of course,” cried the boy angrily. “Think I was frightened by a thing like that?”“You’ll do; you’ll do,” said the dealer, with a little chuckle. “Now then; it was half my fault, and half yours.”The next moment Mark was in his seat, holding his mount with a tight hand as it began to paw up the sand, eager to start.“Wait for me,” cried Dean, for the dealer was clapping the halter on another of the ponies, whose back Dean reached without mishap; and then as if thoroughly accustomed to run together, the attractive looking little pair moved off at an easy canter, closely followed by the other two, and going soon after at a quiet hand gallop twice round the large kraal, and stopping short close up to the dealer at the end of their career.The boys jumped down, and the two unmounted ponies waited patiently while the halters were shifted and the performance repeated.“Well, gentlemen, are you satisfied?” said the man, patting the ponies’ necks as he spoke.“Yes, quite,” said Sir James. “What do you say, doctor?”“I should say more than satisfied, only I am afraid that they won’t be up to our weight.”“Don’t you make any mistake, sir. These little fellows can do more than you expect—that is, if you treat them well. You won’t ride them till they founder, I’ll be bound. Just you take care that they have enough, and you will find that they will do all you want. You would like me to keep them till you start, I suppose?”“Certainly,” said the doctor; and soon after the little party returned to their inn, the boys talking eagerly about their new acquaintance.“But I say, father,” said Mark, “why, what a party we are going to be—five men, our four selves, four ponies, and all those oxen. Let’s see; that’s all, isn’t it?”“No,” said Sir. James; “you forget the guide.”“Black, isn’t he, uncle?”“Yes; I suppose he’s a regular Kaffir, a sort of Zulu. What did the captain say he was, doctor?”“An Illaka, he called him, I believe, something of the same sort of black, as the Matabeles. But you have forgotten two more.”“Two more, sir?” said Dean. “No, we have counted them all.”“What about the two black forelopers?”“Why, what are they?” cried Mark.“The two blacks who go in front of the foremost bullocks.”“Oh,” said Mark. “I say, we are beginning to grow.”“Yes,” said Sir James; “we are getting to be a pretty good hunting party. What with ourselves, men and cattle, we shall have a good many mouths to feed.”“But you don’t want to go back, father?”“I did, thoroughly,” replied Sir James, “when we were down at that dreadful port.”“But not now, uncle,” cried Dean.“Certainly not, my boy. I am as eager to go forward as you boys, and I believe the doctor too. I think we are going to have a most delightful trip. But I say, this doesn’t look to me a very good specimen of the health of the country;” and he nodded his head in the direction of a very tall, extremely thin, bilious-looking individual who passed them, and whom they saw make his way right up to the dealer’s house.“Talk about moustachios,” cried Mark. “Why, they look like those of a china figure in a tea-shop. I wonder what he calls himself.”“And this one too,” said Dean, for they met a fine-looking, well built black with well-cut features, nose almost aquiline, and a haughty look of disdain in his frowning eyes, as, spear over shoulder, he stalked by the English party, not even deigning to turn to glance back.“I should think he’s a chief,” said Mark; “a sort of king in his way.”“Doesn’t cost him much a year for his clothes,” said Dean, laughing, for the big fellow’s costume was the simplest of the simple.“Ah, not much,” said Sir James, looking after the man; “one of Nature’s noblemen, who looks as if he had never done a stroke of work in his life. I wonder whether he would ever dare to make use of that spear.”“I don’t think there’s any doubt about it, sir,” said the doctor, “if he were offended; and if we meet men like that we shall have to be friends, for that’s an ugly looking weapon that he carries over his shoulder with such a jaunty air.”“What are you thinking about, doctor?”“I was thinking about the full-blooded black that the captain yonder promised to get us for our guide, and I was wondering whether that was likely to be he.”The doctor’s words made the rest turn to gaze after the fine-looking, lithe and active black, who stalked on, haughty of mien, without even seeming to give a thought to the English intruders upon his soil.

Sir James turned back with the doctor, and soon after the boys were intently examining the drove of nearly fifty beautiful, sleek, well-bred oxen in their kraal, where they were in charge of their drivers, one a big, bluff, manly-looking fellow, well bronzed by the sun, and with Englishman stamped upon every feature, forming a striking contrast to his companion, a flat-nosed, half-bred Hottentot, who grinned at them stupidly.

“We just want another look round, my lad,” said the doctor.

“All right, sir,” said the big driver, endorsing his appearance by his speech; and taking the lead, he showed the little party and expatiated upon the qualities of the leading and pole oxen, upon how sleek and well they looked, and gave to each its name, while the Hottentot driver, who confined himself to Dutch, helped to call up bullock after bullock, all of which answered sluggishly to their names.

Then the boys were made acquainted with the novelties, to them, of dissel-boom, trek-tow, and yokes.

“But I say,” cried Mark, “you don’t call that a whip, do you?” And he pointed to one that might have been used in Brobdingnag.

“Yes, sir; that’s the whip,” said the Englishman, laughing. “You see, one wants a long one to touch up an ox who may be the leader twelve bullocks’ lengths away from where you are sitting on the box.”

“Let’s try,” said Mark.

The man smiled as he took down and handed the gigantic thong.

“Mind what you are doing, sir,” he said. “A waggon whip is rather an awkward thing, until you are used to it; but when you are you know it is a nice, neat, handy little tool. You see, it’s a two-handed weapon.”

“That’s plain enough,” said Dean, laughing. “Let’s have a try after you, Mark.”

“Yes,” said his cousin, giving the whip a wave round, its heavy lash whistling through the air.

“Here, stop!” cried Sir James angrily. “What do you think you are doing? Salmon fishing? It’s a good thing, doctor, that there’s no hook at the end.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry, father,” said the boy, colouring.

“Very sorry, indeed! Why, you nearly cut my ear off. Here, doctor, we had better go.”

“No, no, don’t go, father. I won’t try any more;” and Mark hastily handed the great whip back to the driver.

“Here, but I want to try,” said Dean.

“Well, you are not going to try now,” said his uncle, half irritably. “You will have plenty of chances, both of you, when you have got a field to yourselves. You will be scaring the bullocks.”

“All right, sir,” said the big fellow, replacing the whip by the great tilted waggon. “I’ll teach you how to handle it when we get out on the veldt. Like me to show you, perhaps, now?”

“No, no,” said Sir James; “not while we are here.”

“It’s quite safe, sir,” said the man good-humouredly. “I could give a flip to any one of the bullocks you like to point out without the thong coming near anybody.”

“Oh, let him, please, father.”

“Very well,” said Sir James, rather grumpily. “Shall we stand farther off?”

“Oh, no, sir,” replied the man.

“Let’s pick out that one with the white nose,” whispered Dean. “I don’t believe he can hit it;” and he pointed to one fat beast that was standing almost alone blinking its eyes and ruminating over its cud.

“Yes; hit that one,” said Mark.

The man seemed to give the long whip an easy wave in the air, and the point of the lash alighted on the bullock’s smooth neck, making the animal start and toss its head; and then in response to a command which sounded likeBarrk, it slowly sidled close up to the nearest of its fellows, and then went on chewing the cud again.

“Ay, ay, Jacob!” shouted the driver, and he uttered a few words in a patois that was probably a composition of Dutch and Hottentot, which made the little yellow flat-nosed driver come shambling up, grinning, to take the big whip pitched to him and go off to a distance of some five-and-twenty yards, where, after uttering a few incomprehensible cries which had the effect of making such of the bullocks as were crouching in the sand rise slowly to their feet and sidle up together, the strange looking driver gave the whip a wave or two where he stood, and began to crack it, at everywhishproducing what sounded like a series of rifle shots, watching the English driver the while until he was told to desist.

“Bravo!” cried Mark, and Dean clapped his hands.

“I say, can you crack a whip like that?” cried Dean.

“Oh, yes, sir. Teach you too, if you like.”

“Well, I do like,” said the boy; “but when uncle isn’t here.”

When the interiors of the two great tilted waggons that were close at hand had been examined with some curiosity, as they were to be storehouses and dwelling-places combined, the little party went off in another direction, Mark eagerly enquiring what was to be their destination now.

“Oh, I was going to show you the little cobs the doctor has bought—ponies, I suppose I ought to call them.”

“What, has he got them already?” cried Mark.

“Oh, yes; it has been very short work,” said the doctor. “The officer who has charge of the little garrison here introduced me to a dealer, and I think we have been very fortunate to meet a gentleman who was well acquainted with the ways of the settlers here, for he has given me some very good hints, and in addition promised to have a guide found who was hanging about the camp and is now waiting here after being up the country with a hunting party who left for Beira about a fortnight ago. He is one of the Illakas, Sir James,” continued the doctor, “and it seems that he has been expelled from his tribe for being friendly to the English.”

“Quite a savage, then,” said Sir James.

“Oh, yes; I suppose he is a pure-blooded black, and knows the country well. Let me see, we must turn down in this direction, I think. Yes—pass that corrugated iron shed-like house—to be sure, that’s it—and there’s the man the ponies belong to.”

He nodded in the direction of a little keen-looking man who appeared rather mushroom-like, thanks to the well-worn, broad-leafed felt hat he wore. He was leaning over a rough enclosure in which four ponies were browsing, and keenly watching the approaching party as he smoked.

As soon as he realised that they were coming in his direction he took his pipe from his mouth, tapped the ashes out upon a post, took off his hat and stuck the short pipe in the band.

“Come to have a look at the ponies, gentlemen?” he said.

“Yes,” said Sir James; “I want my son and nephew to have a look at them and try them.”

“I see,” said the man, scanning the boys attentively. “My man isn’t here. Like them saddled and bridled?”

Sir James looked at the two boys, as the man continued, “Can the young gentlemen ride?”

He glanced at the doctor as he spoke.

“Yes,” said the latter quietly; “after our fashion in England. Well broken horses. But they can’t ride wild beasts.”

“Well, no, captain; nobody expects that; but I shall have to keep you waiting a bit while I have my man found, and send him to borrow a saddle and bridle. I have only got two, and one of the officers from up at the barracks and his friend have got them for the day. I have plenty of halters, and I can clap a rug on one of the ponies. What do you say to that, young gentlemen?”

“I’d rather have one without the rug,” said Mark, “if they are quiet.”

“Quiet as lambs, sir, as long as you don’t play any larks with them.”

“Oh, we shan’t play any tricks,” said Mark.

“That’s right, sir. Out here we like to treat a pony well. They are scarce, and worth their money. I am afraid, sir,” continued the man, turning to the doctor, “that I did not charge enough for them.”

“But you don’t want to draw back from your bargain?” said the doctor sternly. “I paid you the price you asked.”

“Yes, sir. The captain up yonder brought you to me as English friends, and him and his officers are good customers to me. No, I am not going to ask more. Only I will go as far as this: if you bring them back to me sound and in a fair condition I will take them again at the price. Here, one of you,” he shouted to a group of idlers who had sauntered up to the fence of the enclosure, “go to the house and ask the missis to give you a couple of halters and a horse rug. My chap, Browne, has gone to meet the officers.”

One of the men sauntered off quietly, leaving the party of strangers to walk across the kraal, the boys keenly examining the little browsing animals.

“Well, doctor,” said Sir James, “I must say I admire your choice. They are beautiful little creatures, and I hope that they have no vice.”

“Vice! Not they, sir,” said their late owner, as the ponies upon being approached lifted their heads to stare at the visitors for a few moments and then go on browsing at the low-growing bushes that formed their feed. “This don’t look like vice, does it, sir?” said the man, thrusting his hand into his pocket and drawing it out full of maize.

One of the ponies raised its head, stretched out its neck in the direction of the extended hand, and trotted up.

“These mealies are rather a hard bite for them, sir, but this lot are very fond of a taste, and I let them have one now and then; but of course you will always have a few sacks handy.—Now, young gentlemen, try this one,” and he poured some of the golden grain into Mark’s hand. “You too, sir,” he continued, and he brought out some more to trickle into Dean’s.

There was no doubt so far in the tameness of the two ponies, which fed quietly enough from the boys’ hands and submitted to being handled, patted and held by their thick forelocks or manes.

By this time the dealer’s messenger had returned with a couple of halters.

“Missis can’t find a horse rug,” said the man surlily.

“Never mind; we can do without, I daresay. But just be on the lookout, and if you see my Browne send him to me. Now then, gentlemen, like to try barebacked?”

“Yes,” said Mark; and as soon as a halter had been thrown over one of the ponies’ heads the dealer handed the end to him.

“Oh, come,” he said, “not the first time you have been on a pony;” for Mark held up one leg, which the man took in his hand and gave him a hoist; and the boy making a spring at the same time dropped on the pony’s glossy back, but like vaulting ambition overleaped himself and rolled over on the other side, startling the pony into making off. But the dealer made a snatch at the halter, just in time, and it stopped short, snorting.

“Hurt, my boy?” cried Sir James, anxiously.

“No, father; only vexed,” said the boy, dusting the sand from his flannels. “Now then,” he continued, to the dealer, “you hoisted me too hard.”

“Going to have another try?”

“Why, of course,” cried the boy angrily. “Think I was frightened by a thing like that?”

“You’ll do; you’ll do,” said the dealer, with a little chuckle. “Now then; it was half my fault, and half yours.”

The next moment Mark was in his seat, holding his mount with a tight hand as it began to paw up the sand, eager to start.

“Wait for me,” cried Dean, for the dealer was clapping the halter on another of the ponies, whose back Dean reached without mishap; and then as if thoroughly accustomed to run together, the attractive looking little pair moved off at an easy canter, closely followed by the other two, and going soon after at a quiet hand gallop twice round the large kraal, and stopping short close up to the dealer at the end of their career.

The boys jumped down, and the two unmounted ponies waited patiently while the halters were shifted and the performance repeated.

“Well, gentlemen, are you satisfied?” said the man, patting the ponies’ necks as he spoke.

“Yes, quite,” said Sir James. “What do you say, doctor?”

“I should say more than satisfied, only I am afraid that they won’t be up to our weight.”

“Don’t you make any mistake, sir. These little fellows can do more than you expect—that is, if you treat them well. You won’t ride them till they founder, I’ll be bound. Just you take care that they have enough, and you will find that they will do all you want. You would like me to keep them till you start, I suppose?”

“Certainly,” said the doctor; and soon after the little party returned to their inn, the boys talking eagerly about their new acquaintance.

“But I say, father,” said Mark, “why, what a party we are going to be—five men, our four selves, four ponies, and all those oxen. Let’s see; that’s all, isn’t it?”

“No,” said Sir. James; “you forget the guide.”

“Black, isn’t he, uncle?”

“Yes; I suppose he’s a regular Kaffir, a sort of Zulu. What did the captain say he was, doctor?”

“An Illaka, he called him, I believe, something of the same sort of black, as the Matabeles. But you have forgotten two more.”

“Two more, sir?” said Dean. “No, we have counted them all.”

“What about the two black forelopers?”

“Why, what are they?” cried Mark.

“The two blacks who go in front of the foremost bullocks.”

“Oh,” said Mark. “I say, we are beginning to grow.”

“Yes,” said Sir James; “we are getting to be a pretty good hunting party. What with ourselves, men and cattle, we shall have a good many mouths to feed.”

“But you don’t want to go back, father?”

“I did, thoroughly,” replied Sir James, “when we were down at that dreadful port.”

“But not now, uncle,” cried Dean.

“Certainly not, my boy. I am as eager to go forward as you boys, and I believe the doctor too. I think we are going to have a most delightful trip. But I say, this doesn’t look to me a very good specimen of the health of the country;” and he nodded his head in the direction of a very tall, extremely thin, bilious-looking individual who passed them, and whom they saw make his way right up to the dealer’s house.

“Talk about moustachios,” cried Mark. “Why, they look like those of a china figure in a tea-shop. I wonder what he calls himself.”

“And this one too,” said Dean, for they met a fine-looking, well built black with well-cut features, nose almost aquiline, and a haughty look of disdain in his frowning eyes, as, spear over shoulder, he stalked by the English party, not even deigning to turn to glance back.

“I should think he’s a chief,” said Mark; “a sort of king in his way.”

“Doesn’t cost him much a year for his clothes,” said Dean, laughing, for the big fellow’s costume was the simplest of the simple.

“Ah, not much,” said Sir James, looking after the man; “one of Nature’s noblemen, who looks as if he had never done a stroke of work in his life. I wonder whether he would ever dare to make use of that spear.”

“I don’t think there’s any doubt about it, sir,” said the doctor, “if he were offended; and if we meet men like that we shall have to be friends, for that’s an ugly looking weapon that he carries over his shoulder with such a jaunty air.”

“What are you thinking about, doctor?”

“I was thinking about the full-blooded black that the captain yonder promised to get us for our guide, and I was wondering whether that was likely to be he.”

The doctor’s words made the rest turn to gaze after the fine-looking, lithe and active black, who stalked on, haughty of mien, without even seeming to give a thought to the English intruders upon his soil.

Chapter Seven.‘Mak’ is sent in.The barracks of Illakaree did not form an attractive object in the lovely landscape surrounded by hills, in and out amongst which the Reptile River ran, for a building hastily raised of corrugated iron never was and never will be beautiful.“I say ugly,” said Mark to his cousin, “but all the same I should like to be inside one when there was a bad hailstorm. My word, what a shindy there would be with the big stones—lumps of ice, I suppose, they would be in a place like this—hammering down upon the zinc roof.”“The soldiers look cheery enough.”“And healthy,” said the doctor.“Thoroughly,” said Sir James. “It is a pity they cannot make arrangements down at the port to give their men a holiday up here.”They were close up to the captain’s quarters, and he, catching sight of the party, came out hastily to shake hands.“Well,” he said, in a light cheery way, “what can I do for you? How are you getting on?”“Excellently,” said the doctor, “thanks to you. We have secured the ponies, two waggons, and two span of oxen with their drivers.”“That’s right. Have you got your forelopers too.”“Not yet, but I suppose there will be no difficulty about them.”“Not the slightest. We generally have one or two black fellows eager to get a job with someone going up country. I will undertake to find them. The oxen are all right, for I have seen them. You couldn’t have had a better lot, and you are quite right too over the ponies. Now, is there anything else I can do?”Before the doctor could speak, the frank, good looking young captain turned to the boys.“Nice lucky pair of young dogs you are—going on a natural history and hunting trip like this! What wouldn’t I give to come with you!”“Well, come, then,” said Sir James. “I should be delighted to strengthen our party with such a companion. You know a good deal about the country, don’t you?”“Well—yes. I have had two or three little excursions in the direction you are going through the great forests and away on to where the old stones are said to be, Dr Robertson,” continued the speaker, turning to that visitor.“But I understood you to say that you had never seen them.”“No; I had to turn back, for my leave had nearly expired, and I came away with the belief that there were no ruins, and that those who had reported about them had seen nothing but some of the castle-like kopjes that look sometimes at a distance like built fortresses of huge granite stones. Still I have heard on the other hand that there are such ruins, and that after their fashion the black tribes keep it a secret and look upon the spot as a sort of Mecca—a sacred place which it is dangerous to approach and which they will not allow the white man to come near for fear he should be hurt, and from fear on their own part of the old bogeys which haunt the ruins. I don’t answer for this. It may be all talk, and if I had time there is nothing I should like to do better than to prove it.”“Then you think there is risk in going there.”“No,” said the captain, “I really do not. If there were I don’t think that the guide would be so ready to undertake his task.”“But the ruins may exist,” said the doctor; and the boys listened with their ears wide open or well on the gape for news.“Certainly; there is plenty of room,” said the captain, laughing; “and the black fellow I told you about, as far as I can make out from his jumble of the Ulaka language and broken English, declares that he has seen them—big stone kraals, he calls them.”“Well, why can’t you come with us to see?” said the doctor. “It is bound to be very interesting.”“Awfully,” said the captain, “and there must be plenty of good sport out there. I’ll vouch for that.”“What shall we get?” asked Mark eagerly.“Lions,” said the captain, smiling—“plenty of them. Do you like lion shooting?”“How can I?” said Mark testily. “How could I? I never shot anything bigger than a pheasant in my life. You are laughing at me.”“Oh, no,” said the captain, patting him on the shoulder; “and I daresay next time we meet you will have bagged one or more, and have the skins to show me. Then you will get leopards, which by all means shoot, for they are very mischievous. You will find plenty of hippos in the river, and crocs too. That’s why they call it Reptile River; and if you go on far enough, as you ought to if you have plenty of time, you may get a shot or two at giraffes. Ah, and as I say if you go on far enough you may run against okapis.”“O—what, sir?” cried the boys eagerly.“Oh, a curious new animal that they are reporting. They say it looks half way between a giraffe and a zebra, and it’s found in the great central forests. Ah, boys, you have got a fine time before you, and as I said before, I envy you both.”“Then why not think better of Sir James’s invitation?” said the doctor. “I am sure you would be able to assist us wonderfully. Say you will come.”“Can’t,” said the captain firmly. “Duty. The people about here are very peaceable now, but they may break out at any time; and suppose there was anemeuteamongst these blacks while I was away shooting. I thank you, Sir James, most heartily, but it is impossible. You will have a capital guide, though, who will show you the way far better than I could.”“Yes, the guide,” said Mark hastily. “That’s why we have come up this morning.”“Well, you couldn’t have come at a better time,” said the officer. “He has been far away, for some reason best known to himself, but he marched into camp last evening, looking as if he were monarch of all he surveyed.”“Then that’s the man we saw!” cried Dean excitedly.“Tall, black, fine-looking fellow, well built, and a savage chief every inch of him?”“Yes,” said Mark eagerly; “and hardly any clothes.”“That’s the man. There, I will send one of my men to fetch him here;” and stepping to the window he called to the sentry on duty to pass the word for someone to hunt out Mak and bring him there.“Mak!” said the doctor, laughing. “What, have you got Scotch blacks here?”“Oh, no. We call him Mak because he is like one of the Makalaka. Properly he belongs to a great tribe called the Ulakas, who used at one time to occupy the kopjes about here. I suppose that is why this place has come to be known as Illakaree.”Only a few minutes later the tall, stately-looking black of the preceding evening was seen crossing the barrack enclosure, carrying his spear over his shoulder and looking down with a sort of contempt at the young bugler by his side, to which the boy retorted by looking up as contemptuously at the stalwart black, thinking of him as a naked nigger.“Now I don’t wish to interfere,” said the captain. “I only want to be of service to you gentlemen out in this wild place, if I can. It is no presumption to say, I suppose, that you can’t understand the Illaka dialect?”“Certainly not,” said the doctor. “I daresay I could get on if the man addressed me in ancient Greek.”“Which he will not do,” said the captain, laughing. “He will say very little, and what he does say will consist of the most curious jumble of English that ever man gave utterance to. So will you trust me to make terms with him as to what he is to do and what he is to be paid? I purpose offering him the same terms as were given to him by his last employers. He wants very little—and no current coin. A good knife or two and some brass rings will satisfy him. And as to his work that he is to do for you, I tell you frankly that he will not do a stroke, but he will tramp with you upon hunting expeditions till he will tire you out; he will be as keen-scented as a dog, a splendid tracker of every kind of wild beast, and if needs be he will fight for you bravely to the death.”“Well, you couldn’t give him a better character,” said the doctor, “for our purpose. But what bad qualities have you to put against this?”“Oh, he is a very wolf at eating.”“Well, it’s only fair that he should be,” said Mark, “if he hunts for and finds the meat.”“I quite agree with you,” said the captain. “Then let me see; I did tell you that he won’t do a stroke of work. He is too great a swell—for he really is a chief, and was beaten by a stronger party and had to retreat for his life.”“But I say,” said Mark, “how are we going to get on with him if he is going to carry on in that stuck-up, haughty way?”“Oh, that’s nothing,” said the captain, laughing. “He puts that on when he comes into camp, to show his contempt for my men. A few of the larky spirits teased him a bit some time ago, and he wouldn’t stand it. But I have seen a good deal of him, and he likes me because I wigged the men and gave them to understand before him that I would have none of that nonsense. Why, when he is away out in the forest or veldt with a hunting party—and people treat him well—he is like a merry boy, a regular child of nature. But treat him with contempt, and it raises his bile directly. We are too fond of treating these natives as niggers, but some of them are fine fellows, and as brave as lions— Pooh! Nonsense! As brave as men can be. Yes,” he continued, as an orderly appeared, “send in Mak.”The fine-looking black stepped in, to stand in dignified silence, looking keenly round at the party, while the captain spoke to him in broken English which sounded somewhat like that of a weak old nurse prattling to a child, and in answer to which the black responded with the single word, “Good.”“There,” said the captain, “I have explained everything to him, gentlemen, and his word ‘Good’ means that he will serve you faithfully, and show you plenty of game, to find which he will take you to the mineral forest where the trees are so high that it is nearly always twilight, and after that guide you on to the great city where the old people lived, and show you the mighty stones with which they built. That’s all, gentlemen. Metaphorically signed and sealed and witnessed by your humble servant, Frank Lawton, of Her Majesty’s 200th Light Infantry.”“Thank you,” said the doctor. “I never knew there was so much in the one word good before.”Mark glanced at the black, who had been listening intently to the doctor, and catching the boy’s movement he fixed him with his eyes so that they two were for some moments apparently trying to read each other’s thoughts.“Well, you look all right,” said the boy to himself, and his frank, open countenance expanded into a pleasant smile.At this the haughty face before him changed suddenly, as if so much natural sunshine had flashed out, and stepping up to the boy he turned his spear upside down so that the point of the keen, leaf-like blade rested on the plain boarded floor of the captain’s room, and bending forward he laid the back of his right hand upon Mark’s breast.“Baas,” he said, in a deep musical voice; and then moving slowly and with dignity he passed round to each, to repeat the action and the word, his eyes beaming upon everyone in turn, and then finishing off by uttering once more the one word, “Good.”He then glanced at the captain and asked him some question, to which the captain nodded.The next minute he had glided bare-footed and silent out of the room, while as the party watched they saw him march haughtily past the window and away across the barrack yard.“There, gentlemen, that’s settled, then,” said the captain.“Settled?” said Sir James. “But I ought to give him what the country people call a fastening penny, ought I not?”“Oh, no, nothing of the kind.”“But about finding him when we want to start? For I want to get away from here as soon as possible.”“You will not have to find him,” said the captain, laughing. “He will find you. You may see him hanging about, or you may not. But you may depend upon one thing, that from henceforth he will be like your shadow. Oh, but one word,” the captain added. “Your men seem quiet, respectable fellows, but it might be advisable for you to say a few words to them about their treatment of your guide. You know what I mean—about their looking upon him as a nigger. I don’t think you need speak to Buck Denham, the big bullock driver, nor to the Hottentot. There.”Sir James and the doctor offered plenty of words of thanks, at which the captain laughed.“My dear sirs,” he said, “not a word more. Put yourselves in my place and suppose I came up country as you did. Wouldn’t you have been as pleased as I and our mess are to meet a brother Englishman so far away from home? So not a word more but these: If ever I can serve you in any way, here I am, and you know my name. There, boys, we will see you off when you start, and fire a salute, just as if we had had a visit from the Prince.”

The barracks of Illakaree did not form an attractive object in the lovely landscape surrounded by hills, in and out amongst which the Reptile River ran, for a building hastily raised of corrugated iron never was and never will be beautiful.

“I say ugly,” said Mark to his cousin, “but all the same I should like to be inside one when there was a bad hailstorm. My word, what a shindy there would be with the big stones—lumps of ice, I suppose, they would be in a place like this—hammering down upon the zinc roof.”

“The soldiers look cheery enough.”

“And healthy,” said the doctor.

“Thoroughly,” said Sir James. “It is a pity they cannot make arrangements down at the port to give their men a holiday up here.”

They were close up to the captain’s quarters, and he, catching sight of the party, came out hastily to shake hands.

“Well,” he said, in a light cheery way, “what can I do for you? How are you getting on?”

“Excellently,” said the doctor, “thanks to you. We have secured the ponies, two waggons, and two span of oxen with their drivers.”

“That’s right. Have you got your forelopers too.”

“Not yet, but I suppose there will be no difficulty about them.”

“Not the slightest. We generally have one or two black fellows eager to get a job with someone going up country. I will undertake to find them. The oxen are all right, for I have seen them. You couldn’t have had a better lot, and you are quite right too over the ponies. Now, is there anything else I can do?”

Before the doctor could speak, the frank, good looking young captain turned to the boys.

“Nice lucky pair of young dogs you are—going on a natural history and hunting trip like this! What wouldn’t I give to come with you!”

“Well, come, then,” said Sir James. “I should be delighted to strengthen our party with such a companion. You know a good deal about the country, don’t you?”

“Well—yes. I have had two or three little excursions in the direction you are going through the great forests and away on to where the old stones are said to be, Dr Robertson,” continued the speaker, turning to that visitor.

“But I understood you to say that you had never seen them.”

“No; I had to turn back, for my leave had nearly expired, and I came away with the belief that there were no ruins, and that those who had reported about them had seen nothing but some of the castle-like kopjes that look sometimes at a distance like built fortresses of huge granite stones. Still I have heard on the other hand that there are such ruins, and that after their fashion the black tribes keep it a secret and look upon the spot as a sort of Mecca—a sacred place which it is dangerous to approach and which they will not allow the white man to come near for fear he should be hurt, and from fear on their own part of the old bogeys which haunt the ruins. I don’t answer for this. It may be all talk, and if I had time there is nothing I should like to do better than to prove it.”

“Then you think there is risk in going there.”

“No,” said the captain, “I really do not. If there were I don’t think that the guide would be so ready to undertake his task.”

“But the ruins may exist,” said the doctor; and the boys listened with their ears wide open or well on the gape for news.

“Certainly; there is plenty of room,” said the captain, laughing; “and the black fellow I told you about, as far as I can make out from his jumble of the Ulaka language and broken English, declares that he has seen them—big stone kraals, he calls them.”

“Well, why can’t you come with us to see?” said the doctor. “It is bound to be very interesting.”

“Awfully,” said the captain, “and there must be plenty of good sport out there. I’ll vouch for that.”

“What shall we get?” asked Mark eagerly.

“Lions,” said the captain, smiling—“plenty of them. Do you like lion shooting?”

“How can I?” said Mark testily. “How could I? I never shot anything bigger than a pheasant in my life. You are laughing at me.”

“Oh, no,” said the captain, patting him on the shoulder; “and I daresay next time we meet you will have bagged one or more, and have the skins to show me. Then you will get leopards, which by all means shoot, for they are very mischievous. You will find plenty of hippos in the river, and crocs too. That’s why they call it Reptile River; and if you go on far enough, as you ought to if you have plenty of time, you may get a shot or two at giraffes. Ah, and as I say if you go on far enough you may run against okapis.”

“O—what, sir?” cried the boys eagerly.

“Oh, a curious new animal that they are reporting. They say it looks half way between a giraffe and a zebra, and it’s found in the great central forests. Ah, boys, you have got a fine time before you, and as I said before, I envy you both.”

“Then why not think better of Sir James’s invitation?” said the doctor. “I am sure you would be able to assist us wonderfully. Say you will come.”

“Can’t,” said the captain firmly. “Duty. The people about here are very peaceable now, but they may break out at any time; and suppose there was anemeuteamongst these blacks while I was away shooting. I thank you, Sir James, most heartily, but it is impossible. You will have a capital guide, though, who will show you the way far better than I could.”

“Yes, the guide,” said Mark hastily. “That’s why we have come up this morning.”

“Well, you couldn’t have come at a better time,” said the officer. “He has been far away, for some reason best known to himself, but he marched into camp last evening, looking as if he were monarch of all he surveyed.”

“Then that’s the man we saw!” cried Dean excitedly.

“Tall, black, fine-looking fellow, well built, and a savage chief every inch of him?”

“Yes,” said Mark eagerly; “and hardly any clothes.”

“That’s the man. There, I will send one of my men to fetch him here;” and stepping to the window he called to the sentry on duty to pass the word for someone to hunt out Mak and bring him there.

“Mak!” said the doctor, laughing. “What, have you got Scotch blacks here?”

“Oh, no. We call him Mak because he is like one of the Makalaka. Properly he belongs to a great tribe called the Ulakas, who used at one time to occupy the kopjes about here. I suppose that is why this place has come to be known as Illakaree.”

Only a few minutes later the tall, stately-looking black of the preceding evening was seen crossing the barrack enclosure, carrying his spear over his shoulder and looking down with a sort of contempt at the young bugler by his side, to which the boy retorted by looking up as contemptuously at the stalwart black, thinking of him as a naked nigger.

“Now I don’t wish to interfere,” said the captain. “I only want to be of service to you gentlemen out in this wild place, if I can. It is no presumption to say, I suppose, that you can’t understand the Illaka dialect?”

“Certainly not,” said the doctor. “I daresay I could get on if the man addressed me in ancient Greek.”

“Which he will not do,” said the captain, laughing. “He will say very little, and what he does say will consist of the most curious jumble of English that ever man gave utterance to. So will you trust me to make terms with him as to what he is to do and what he is to be paid? I purpose offering him the same terms as were given to him by his last employers. He wants very little—and no current coin. A good knife or two and some brass rings will satisfy him. And as to his work that he is to do for you, I tell you frankly that he will not do a stroke, but he will tramp with you upon hunting expeditions till he will tire you out; he will be as keen-scented as a dog, a splendid tracker of every kind of wild beast, and if needs be he will fight for you bravely to the death.”

“Well, you couldn’t give him a better character,” said the doctor, “for our purpose. But what bad qualities have you to put against this?”

“Oh, he is a very wolf at eating.”

“Well, it’s only fair that he should be,” said Mark, “if he hunts for and finds the meat.”

“I quite agree with you,” said the captain. “Then let me see; I did tell you that he won’t do a stroke of work. He is too great a swell—for he really is a chief, and was beaten by a stronger party and had to retreat for his life.”

“But I say,” said Mark, “how are we going to get on with him if he is going to carry on in that stuck-up, haughty way?”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” said the captain, laughing. “He puts that on when he comes into camp, to show his contempt for my men. A few of the larky spirits teased him a bit some time ago, and he wouldn’t stand it. But I have seen a good deal of him, and he likes me because I wigged the men and gave them to understand before him that I would have none of that nonsense. Why, when he is away out in the forest or veldt with a hunting party—and people treat him well—he is like a merry boy, a regular child of nature. But treat him with contempt, and it raises his bile directly. We are too fond of treating these natives as niggers, but some of them are fine fellows, and as brave as lions— Pooh! Nonsense! As brave as men can be. Yes,” he continued, as an orderly appeared, “send in Mak.”

The fine-looking black stepped in, to stand in dignified silence, looking keenly round at the party, while the captain spoke to him in broken English which sounded somewhat like that of a weak old nurse prattling to a child, and in answer to which the black responded with the single word, “Good.”

“There,” said the captain, “I have explained everything to him, gentlemen, and his word ‘Good’ means that he will serve you faithfully, and show you plenty of game, to find which he will take you to the mineral forest where the trees are so high that it is nearly always twilight, and after that guide you on to the great city where the old people lived, and show you the mighty stones with which they built. That’s all, gentlemen. Metaphorically signed and sealed and witnessed by your humble servant, Frank Lawton, of Her Majesty’s 200th Light Infantry.”

“Thank you,” said the doctor. “I never knew there was so much in the one word good before.”

Mark glanced at the black, who had been listening intently to the doctor, and catching the boy’s movement he fixed him with his eyes so that they two were for some moments apparently trying to read each other’s thoughts.

“Well, you look all right,” said the boy to himself, and his frank, open countenance expanded into a pleasant smile.

At this the haughty face before him changed suddenly, as if so much natural sunshine had flashed out, and stepping up to the boy he turned his spear upside down so that the point of the keen, leaf-like blade rested on the plain boarded floor of the captain’s room, and bending forward he laid the back of his right hand upon Mark’s breast.

“Baas,” he said, in a deep musical voice; and then moving slowly and with dignity he passed round to each, to repeat the action and the word, his eyes beaming upon everyone in turn, and then finishing off by uttering once more the one word, “Good.”

He then glanced at the captain and asked him some question, to which the captain nodded.

The next minute he had glided bare-footed and silent out of the room, while as the party watched they saw him march haughtily past the window and away across the barrack yard.

“There, gentlemen, that’s settled, then,” said the captain.

“Settled?” said Sir James. “But I ought to give him what the country people call a fastening penny, ought I not?”

“Oh, no, nothing of the kind.”

“But about finding him when we want to start? For I want to get away from here as soon as possible.”

“You will not have to find him,” said the captain, laughing. “He will find you. You may see him hanging about, or you may not. But you may depend upon one thing, that from henceforth he will be like your shadow. Oh, but one word,” the captain added. “Your men seem quiet, respectable fellows, but it might be advisable for you to say a few words to them about their treatment of your guide. You know what I mean—about their looking upon him as a nigger. I don’t think you need speak to Buck Denham, the big bullock driver, nor to the Hottentot. There.”

Sir James and the doctor offered plenty of words of thanks, at which the captain laughed.

“My dear sirs,” he said, “not a word more. Put yourselves in my place and suppose I came up country as you did. Wouldn’t you have been as pleased as I and our mess are to meet a brother Englishman so far away from home? So not a word more but these: If ever I can serve you in any way, here I am, and you know my name. There, boys, we will see you off when you start, and fire a salute, just as if we had had a visit from the Prince.”

Chapter Eight.Mark’s First Watch.“Now, look here,” said Sir James, “we have talked all this matter over quite enough, and it is high time that we started in a business-like way, so as to avoid all confusion.”“Hear, hear,” said the boys together, and Sir James went on.“First of all, I am nobody.”“Oh! Oh, I say, father!” cried Mark laughing.“You hold your tongue, and don’t interrupt. I repeat that I am nobody, only a visitor who looks on and joins in the sport when I feel so disposed, and one whom you and your men must take care of.”“But we must have a captain, sir, to give all orders.”“Of course,” said Sir James. “I constitute you captain; you, Mark, first lieutenant; Dean, second lieutenant.”“But, Sir James—”“Dr Robertson, I have planned all this, and I presume that I have a right to do as I please.”“Certainly, sir,” said the doctor.“And perhaps I may think it right to interfere when things are going on not to satisfy me.”“Of course, sir;” and the boys looked at one another.“Well,” continued Sir James, “we have arrived at this pitch, that we are quite independent of the inn. I have paid everybody, and for the last two nights we have been practising camping out, and are going to sleep again to-night in our waggons as we intend to do during our campaign. You, Robertson, have reported to me that everything is properly packed, the waggons loaded with our stores. You have trained our men to occupy their places; we make this waggon our tent or fort to sleep in or sleep under, according to the weather; in short, there is nothing to prevent our starting to-morrow morning.”“So soon, father?” said Mark.“So soon, sir! Yes. Haven’t we been busy here for a fortnight, making our preparations? And a very busy time it has been. I consider that we have finished our stay here with bidding good-bye to the officers and thanking them. You saw how I stopped back at the barracks this evening. Do you know what it was for, doctor?”“No, sir.”“To tell Captain Lawton that I would rather not have any nonsense and procession or firing of farewell salute, and that I had made up my mind that we would start early to-morrow morning.”“Then we really are to go to-morrow, father?”“Of course.”“But, uncle,” protested Dean, “there are several more things that might be useful and that I should like to get.”“Of course there are, sir,” said his uncle shortly, “and so there would be if we stopped about here for another month. Now, no more words. You have got your marching orders, captain—I mean, doctor; and you will go round with your officers and see the blacks, the two drivers, and our own three men, so that there may be no excuse for their not being ready.”“Exactly so, Sir James. I am very glad that we have come to this climax.”“So am I,” said Sir James. “Eh? What’s that, Mark?” for the boy was whispering to his cousin. “What’s that you are saying?”“Oh, I was only talking to Dean, father,” said the boy, rather confusedly, and his face turned scarlet, lit up as it was by the swinging lantern beneath which he was seated.“Yes, sir; I saw you were; and you were protesting against my orders for what I presume you call this hurried start.”“That I am sure I was not, father. I was only joking to Dean.”“And what was the joke, sir? You, Dean, what did he say?”“I don’t like to tell you, uncle.”“I insist that you tell me at once, sir,” said Sir James angrily.The boy gave a deprecating look at his cousin, and then went on hesitatingly, “Mark said that it was comic—”“Well, sir? Go on.”Dean coughed to clear his voice.“He said it was comic that you had just made us all officers and then ended by taking it all out of the doctor’s hands and playing captain yourself.”“Humph! Well,” grunted Sir James, “it does sound a little odd. But this was the final instructions as I was making resignation. But stop a minute. I had just made the reservation that I should interfere if I thought proper. Now I have done. Give your final orders, captain; and then if it was my case I should say, lights out and let’s all have a good rest till daylight to-morrow morning. By the way, whose turn is it to take the watch to-night, doctor?”“Yours, Sir James, and I relieve you two hours after midnight.”“And to-morrow night?”“Mark first watch, Dean the second.”“Next night?”“Not settled yet.”“Good; and I think it was a very excellent arrangement of yours, doctor, to begin as we did on the first night of our moving into camp.”That night seemed all too short, and Mark could hardly believe that it was close on daylight when the doctor roused him to see the fierce-looking black, spear-armed, dimly showing by the light of the lantern the former carried, while Dean would not believe it at all, but treated it as part of a dream, and turned over, fast asleep again.“Oh, I say,” cried Mark, “did you ever see such an old dozey, doctor?”“Catch hold of one arm,” said the doctor. “I’ll take the other. Here, Mak, take hold.”He handed the lantern to the black, who took it and stood looking on while the sleeper was regularly set upon his legs, to stand staring in alarm at the glistening eyes and the white grinning ivory of the man’s teeth.“Oh,” he cried, in a half startled tone, “I thought—it can’t be morning!”“Can’t it?” said Mark, laughing. “Let go, doctor, I think he’s awake now.”“Awake! Of course I am. But I say, is breakfast ready?”“No, Dean,” replied the doctor, “and will not be till we are a couple of hours on our track.”The bustle attending starting had already begun; the waggon drivers were busy with the oxen, the keepers were saddling up two of the ponies, the sailor was proving his right to be called a handy man, and stowing the necessaries of the night in the fore and aft chests of the second waggon, and in an almost incredible space of time everything was ready for the start, and the order was given by the doctor.Then came the cracking of the whips and the lowing of a couple of uneasy bullocks; there was a strain on the long trek-tow, and the great lumbering waggons moved off into the early dawn, the ponies being led, for the heads of the expedition all agreed that it would be pleasanter to walk till after sunrise through the crisp, cool air and not let their blood stagnate by riding behind the slow, sluggish pacing of the oxen.At the end of two hours there was a halt for breakfast at a spot selected by the black Illaka, and he looked on while Dan started a fire with a small supply of wood. Dance fetched water from a little stream that ran gurgling by the place, which was evidently in regular use for camping. Bob, after picketing the ponies so that they could browse, went off and brought back more wood, and there with everything looking bright and picturesque in the morning sun, so well had the doctor arranged matters that Mark declared that only one thing was wanting to have made it the most delicious breakfast they had ever had in their lives.“Why, what did you want, boy?” said Sir James.“We ought to have shot some birds of some kind, father, to have cooked.”“Oh, never mind the birds. We will have them for dinner,” said Sir James merrily.“If we shoot them,” said the doctor. “Here, Dan, give me another mug of coffee, and then look thoroughly well after yourself.”Only about an hour was spent before a fresh start was made, and then the journey was resumed in the most orderly way and kept on till noon, when water was reached at a curve of the little river along which the track led through a dense grove of umbrageous trees. Here there was ample pasture for the cattle, which fed and rested in the shade for a good three hours in the hottest part of the day, while an abundant meal was prepared, after which a deliberate start was made by the well refreshed party.Then followed a long, slow bullock march till quite early evening, and again the black led them to a beautiful woodland patch at a place where the river whose banks they were following showed a good shallow crossing, another display of traces proving that it was a customary halting-place on the way to some kraal.Here the great creaking waggons were drawn up, a fire was made and the men busied themselves looking after the cattle and the ponies, a capital meal was prepared, but without any addition being made by rifle or gun; and just at dark, by the light of the twinkling lanterns, preparations began for passing the night.“I say, Mark, you have to keep the watch,” said Dean. “Don’t you feel proud?”“Not a bit,” said Mark. “Our black chap seems to be doing that. Look at him parading up and down there with his spear over his shoulder just as if he was the grand boss of it all and we were his men.”Just then he strode up to where the boys were talking.“Lions?” said Mark, in a questioning tone.The man smiled pleasantly, and the boy repeated his question; but it was plain that the black did not understand.“Oomph! Oomph! Oomph!” growled Mark, in as near an imitation of the monarch of the forest’s roar as he could contrive after a couple of visits to the Zoo; but it had no effect whatever on their surroundings till the black, who now fully grasped his meaning, crouched down and uttered a startling, barking roar which made two or three of the nearest bullocks start up and stare in their direction.“Here, you, sir, stop that!” shouted Buck Denham, the driver of their waggon, the first being in charge of the Hottentot.The black turned to him, smiling, and nodded, before meeting the boys’ eyes again and shaking his head.Just then the doctor approached, to ask the reason of their guide’s imitation.“Oh,” he said, on being informed, “don’t encourage him in anything of that sort again, or we shall have a stampede of the ponies and bullocks. Well, Mark, recollect that it’s your first watch to-night.”“Oh, I shan’t forget,” was the reply. “But you don’t think we have come out far enough yet to meet with dangerous wild beasts, do you?”“Oh, indeed, but I do,” replied the doctor. “We have left the last post of civilisation behind, and we may come upon danger at any time. Of course you will mount guard with one of the double rifles charged with bullet, and if there really is any suggestion of danger you will fire, so as to give the alarm. We shall come to your help directly.”“Oh, yes, I understand,” said Mark confidently, and he passed the intervening time before he received his orders going round their little camp with his cousin, watching the final preparations made by the drivers and forelopers, a couple of ordinary thick-lipped blacks, and then having a chat with the two keepers about what a change it was from the park and grounds of the old manor.As the time approached, Mark, in spite of his assumed cheerfulness, could not master a slight feeling of discomfort. It was evidently going to be a cool, dark night. The very sound of it was startling to the lad—the announcement that he was to keep the full watch over their little camp of two waggons in a country where lions were common, and on one of the banks of the river which might very well be haunted by hippopotami and loathsome crocodiles.The captain had spoken of its being called Reptile River, and of course that was what it meant. The very thought of it was alarming. He had read enough to know that hippopotami came out to feed by night, crushing up the succulent weeds and softer canes, grinding all up in their huge portmanteau-like jaws, while it was a well known fact that the ponderous beasts would rush at and trample down anyone who came in their way.All that was bad enough, but nothing to compare for horror with the thought of a huge lizard or newt-shaped creature lying in wait ready to seize upon human being or ordinary animal, and drag its prey down into some hole beneath the bank, ready to be devoured at the monster’s leisure.Mark tried very hard to chase away such thoughts, but they kept coming on, right up to the time when he finished his supper and met the doctor’s eyes.“Ready, Mark?” he said.“Yes, sir,” said the boy firmly.“That’s right,” said his father. “Keep a sharp look out, my boy. We are all trusting you to take care of us for the next few hours. Good-night.”“Good-night, father.”The boy shouldered the double rifle and followed the doctor.“I should keep moving, Mark, my boy,” said the latter. “It will occupy your attention and make the time seem to pass more quickly. It will keep you warm too, for it’s sure to be very chilly later on. Stop here a minute or two. I just want to go to the forward waggon and say a word or two to the men. I will join you again directly.”Mark drew himself up stiffly as the doctor walked away, and then his heart seemed to give a bound, for there was a faint rustle just in front, and the boy brought his piece down to the present and made the locks click. “It’s only me, sir,” said a familiar voice. “You, Dan!” cried the boy, pressing one hand on the region of his heart, which was beating fast.“Yes, sir; just me. You need not shoot. I have been waiting till the doctor had gone. I thought as it was rather a new job for a youngster like you, I’d come and ask you whether you would like me to come and keep the watch with you. You see, it’s all fresh to you, but it’s the sort of thing I have been brought up to aboard ship.”“It is very good of you,” said Mark, warming up at the man’s thoughtfulness, “but you had better go and lie down and go to sleep.”“I don’t want to go to sleep, sir.”“But you will lose your night’s rest.”“Not me, sir. I shall just shut one eye in the morning and let that have a snooze for a couple of hours while I get on with my work or keep on tramp. Then when that one’s rested I can make him open and let the other have a snooze.”“No, no, it won’t do,” said Mark firmly, much as he would have liked to have the man’s company. “It’s my duty to take the watch, and I must take it.”“Mean it, sir?”“Certainly,” replied Mark. “I wouldn’t have it thought that—there, go away; the doctor’s coming back.”The sailor slipped away, and the doctor rejoined the boy, and pointed out a beat for him which should take him right round the waggons and the two spans of oxen.“There,” he said, “you know what you have got to do—to fire if there is any cause for anxiety.”“And I suppose I had better not go too near the river?”“Oh, I don’t know,” said the doctor. “It’s a mere stream just about here, though I daresay it’s pretty big after rain. Good-night. You will wake up your cousin at about two. Good-night.”“Good-night,” replied Mark, and he felt that his words must have sounded short to the doctor and full of annoyance, for somehow he thought that it was not fair for him to go away and leave such a boy as he was; and besides, it seemed unkind after he had made such a plain allusion to the river, for the doctor to treat it so lightly. Of course he knew that it was only a little river, a mere stream; but then it was big lower down, and what was to prevent any dangerous beast or reptile from crawling up to lie in wait for anyone that was near?“Never mind,” muttered the boy, “I suppose it’s natural to feel a bit nervous; but I am not going to show the white feather.”He stood still, listening and trying to make out the doctor’s step, but he could not hear a sound.It was very dark, not a star showing, for a faint mist hung above the trees, and for a long time the only thing he heard was a stamp that sounded startling until he made up his mind that it must have been a fidgety movement on the part of one of the ponies, and shouldering his rifle, he stepped out slowly so as to pass right round the little camp.But even that was difficult, for it was not until he was close upon the waggons that he could make them out, and as he went on the big bullocks were only represented to him by what seemed to be so many clumps of bush or heaps of soil.He walked as slowly as he could so as to make his rounds take up as much time as possible, and as he came to the end of each traverse he tried to think out how many minutes it must have taken. This slow march was completed four times, and then he came to the conclusion that about an hour of his watch must have passed away, but only to alter his mind after a little thought and mentally see more clearly, that it could not be a quarter or even an eighth of what he realised now was going to be a very long and dreary watch.“Well, it’s no use to be impatient,” he thought. “It’s no worse for me than it will be for all the rest. One doesn’t like it, but then the pleasure of the travelling and what we shall see right up in the hilly part where the great kopjes rise must make up for a bit of trouble.”He moved on again slowly, keeping a sharp look out in the direction of the stream and feeling convinced that he had heard a splash.Then as he listened intently he was just about to come to the conclusion that it was fancy, when there was another, this time a regular heavy, wallowing sound. What it was he could not tell, but he felt sure that it must be some huge beast making its way through the shallow water and mud.Mark’s next thought was that the brute, whatever it might be, had left the river and was now stealing slowly towards him.“Can’t be a hippo,” he thought, “or I should hear him crashing through the reeds and bushes. No, it must be one of those loathsome great efts, the scaly slimy brutes, crawling softly;” and at the very thought of it he pressed thumb and finger upon cock and trigger of his piece twice over so as to prepare for action without the premonitory click that accompanied the setting of each lock.It was hard work to keep from turning sharply and running, but the boy set his teeth and mastered the desire. But he held his piece in front with two fingers on the triggers ready to fire, when all at once from a short distance behind him, and right in the direction in which he would have run, there came a deep, elongated puff as of some big animal, and he felt that his first idea was right, and that one of the huge hippos had caused the wallowing sound in leaving the stream and then made its way right behind him so as to cut him off from his friends.“The doctor might well tell me to load with ball,” he said. “Why, a shot gun would not have sent the pellets through the monster’s hide.”There was a repetition of the heavy breath, apparently much nearer, which set the boy’s heart thumping rapidly within his chest, and then the heavy beating began to subside as rapidly as it had commenced, for he said to himself, “Oh, you cowardly fool! Why, I am standing close to the bullocks;” and he stepped boldly out in the direction from which the heavy breathing had come, and began to speak softly to the great sleek animals, a couple of them responding with what sounded like so many sighs.Mark’s tramp around the camp became a little faster now as he stepped out and began musing about how easy it was to frighten one’s self by imagining all sorts of horrors hidden by the darkness.“Why, the doctor’s right,” he said; “I don’t believe that there’s anything one might mind in the little river, and of course, if there were lions near, the ponies and the bullocks would know it before I should. There, who’s afraid of its being dark? Not I.”And walking and pausing by turns, the boy kept his watch, working hard to convince himself that he ought to be very proud of the confidence placed in him.“There’s something so real about it,” he thought. “It’s quite grand marching round and round here with a loaded double-barrelled rifle over my shoulder. I wonder how old Dean will feel. I’ll be bound to say he’ll be just as squirmy as I was. He won’t go to sleep the first time he’s on the watch.”The hours seemed to pass very slowly, though it was at their usual rate, and at last to his great satisfaction not only could he feel sure that half of his watch must have passed, but that it was growing lighter.It could not be the approach of dawn, for he could see a few stars peeping out here and there, and he realised that this was caused by the lifting of the mist under the influence of a light breeze that felt almost chilly.Mark was standing some little distance from the second waggon where the ponies were picketed, when all at once his heart set up its heavy beating again, for coming in his direction along the edge of the patch of forest he could plainly see a big, dark animal creeping cautiously towards where the ponies were tethered.Mark watched it for a few moments, till he felt that it must have passed behind the trunk of one of the larger trees, and then it was gone.“Could it be a lion?” he thought. “No, it had not the big, shaggy head. But it might have been a lioness, or perhaps some big leopard. Ah!” he panted, “there it is again! It’s after the ponies. It must be!” and calling to mind that he had cocked his rifle, he covered the dimly-seen animal, which was coming very slowly nearer, and he could make out that it had moved on a few feet and then stopped, as if crouching down waiting to make a spring.“What did the doctor say?” thought Mark. “I was not to fire unless there was real necessity. There must be real necessity here, for that beast is creeping closer and closer so as to be within easy distance for its spring.”The boy hesitated no longer, but raising his rifle to his shoulder he covered the object that was advancing, and was about to draw trigger when he realised the fact that he was aiming at what seemed to be a bush, while the lioness, or whatever it was, had disappeared.Mark stared in wonder, for he could not understand how it was that an object which had seemed so clear in the transparent darkness had disappeared so easily, and he was staring almost wildly in the direction where he had seen it last when there was a faint, rustling sound a little to his left, convincing him that the nocturnal marauder had passed a pensile bough of a tree that must be sweeping the ground, and must be close upon the ponies, one of which uttered a low, tremulous, whinnying sound, and gazing sharply in the direction Mark saw as he drew trigger the big animal assuming a rampant position in springing upon the pony.The silence of the night was broken by a roar, and Mark felt that a cloud was interposed between himself and the camp visitant which hurled him violently to the ground.

“Now, look here,” said Sir James, “we have talked all this matter over quite enough, and it is high time that we started in a business-like way, so as to avoid all confusion.”

“Hear, hear,” said the boys together, and Sir James went on.

“First of all, I am nobody.”

“Oh! Oh, I say, father!” cried Mark laughing.

“You hold your tongue, and don’t interrupt. I repeat that I am nobody, only a visitor who looks on and joins in the sport when I feel so disposed, and one whom you and your men must take care of.”

“But we must have a captain, sir, to give all orders.”

“Of course,” said Sir James. “I constitute you captain; you, Mark, first lieutenant; Dean, second lieutenant.”

“But, Sir James—”

“Dr Robertson, I have planned all this, and I presume that I have a right to do as I please.”

“Certainly, sir,” said the doctor.

“And perhaps I may think it right to interfere when things are going on not to satisfy me.”

“Of course, sir;” and the boys looked at one another.

“Well,” continued Sir James, “we have arrived at this pitch, that we are quite independent of the inn. I have paid everybody, and for the last two nights we have been practising camping out, and are going to sleep again to-night in our waggons as we intend to do during our campaign. You, Robertson, have reported to me that everything is properly packed, the waggons loaded with our stores. You have trained our men to occupy their places; we make this waggon our tent or fort to sleep in or sleep under, according to the weather; in short, there is nothing to prevent our starting to-morrow morning.”

“So soon, father?” said Mark.

“So soon, sir! Yes. Haven’t we been busy here for a fortnight, making our preparations? And a very busy time it has been. I consider that we have finished our stay here with bidding good-bye to the officers and thanking them. You saw how I stopped back at the barracks this evening. Do you know what it was for, doctor?”

“No, sir.”

“To tell Captain Lawton that I would rather not have any nonsense and procession or firing of farewell salute, and that I had made up my mind that we would start early to-morrow morning.”

“Then we really are to go to-morrow, father?”

“Of course.”

“But, uncle,” protested Dean, “there are several more things that might be useful and that I should like to get.”

“Of course there are, sir,” said his uncle shortly, “and so there would be if we stopped about here for another month. Now, no more words. You have got your marching orders, captain—I mean, doctor; and you will go round with your officers and see the blacks, the two drivers, and our own three men, so that there may be no excuse for their not being ready.”

“Exactly so, Sir James. I am very glad that we have come to this climax.”

“So am I,” said Sir James. “Eh? What’s that, Mark?” for the boy was whispering to his cousin. “What’s that you are saying?”

“Oh, I was only talking to Dean, father,” said the boy, rather confusedly, and his face turned scarlet, lit up as it was by the swinging lantern beneath which he was seated.

“Yes, sir; I saw you were; and you were protesting against my orders for what I presume you call this hurried start.”

“That I am sure I was not, father. I was only joking to Dean.”

“And what was the joke, sir? You, Dean, what did he say?”

“I don’t like to tell you, uncle.”

“I insist that you tell me at once, sir,” said Sir James angrily.

The boy gave a deprecating look at his cousin, and then went on hesitatingly, “Mark said that it was comic—”

“Well, sir? Go on.”

Dean coughed to clear his voice.

“He said it was comic that you had just made us all officers and then ended by taking it all out of the doctor’s hands and playing captain yourself.”

“Humph! Well,” grunted Sir James, “it does sound a little odd. But this was the final instructions as I was making resignation. But stop a minute. I had just made the reservation that I should interfere if I thought proper. Now I have done. Give your final orders, captain; and then if it was my case I should say, lights out and let’s all have a good rest till daylight to-morrow morning. By the way, whose turn is it to take the watch to-night, doctor?”

“Yours, Sir James, and I relieve you two hours after midnight.”

“And to-morrow night?”

“Mark first watch, Dean the second.”

“Next night?”

“Not settled yet.”

“Good; and I think it was a very excellent arrangement of yours, doctor, to begin as we did on the first night of our moving into camp.”

That night seemed all too short, and Mark could hardly believe that it was close on daylight when the doctor roused him to see the fierce-looking black, spear-armed, dimly showing by the light of the lantern the former carried, while Dean would not believe it at all, but treated it as part of a dream, and turned over, fast asleep again.

“Oh, I say,” cried Mark, “did you ever see such an old dozey, doctor?”

“Catch hold of one arm,” said the doctor. “I’ll take the other. Here, Mak, take hold.”

He handed the lantern to the black, who took it and stood looking on while the sleeper was regularly set upon his legs, to stand staring in alarm at the glistening eyes and the white grinning ivory of the man’s teeth.

“Oh,” he cried, in a half startled tone, “I thought—it can’t be morning!”

“Can’t it?” said Mark, laughing. “Let go, doctor, I think he’s awake now.”

“Awake! Of course I am. But I say, is breakfast ready?”

“No, Dean,” replied the doctor, “and will not be till we are a couple of hours on our track.”

The bustle attending starting had already begun; the waggon drivers were busy with the oxen, the keepers were saddling up two of the ponies, the sailor was proving his right to be called a handy man, and stowing the necessaries of the night in the fore and aft chests of the second waggon, and in an almost incredible space of time everything was ready for the start, and the order was given by the doctor.

Then came the cracking of the whips and the lowing of a couple of uneasy bullocks; there was a strain on the long trek-tow, and the great lumbering waggons moved off into the early dawn, the ponies being led, for the heads of the expedition all agreed that it would be pleasanter to walk till after sunrise through the crisp, cool air and not let their blood stagnate by riding behind the slow, sluggish pacing of the oxen.

At the end of two hours there was a halt for breakfast at a spot selected by the black Illaka, and he looked on while Dan started a fire with a small supply of wood. Dance fetched water from a little stream that ran gurgling by the place, which was evidently in regular use for camping. Bob, after picketing the ponies so that they could browse, went off and brought back more wood, and there with everything looking bright and picturesque in the morning sun, so well had the doctor arranged matters that Mark declared that only one thing was wanting to have made it the most delicious breakfast they had ever had in their lives.

“Why, what did you want, boy?” said Sir James.

“We ought to have shot some birds of some kind, father, to have cooked.”

“Oh, never mind the birds. We will have them for dinner,” said Sir James merrily.

“If we shoot them,” said the doctor. “Here, Dan, give me another mug of coffee, and then look thoroughly well after yourself.”

Only about an hour was spent before a fresh start was made, and then the journey was resumed in the most orderly way and kept on till noon, when water was reached at a curve of the little river along which the track led through a dense grove of umbrageous trees. Here there was ample pasture for the cattle, which fed and rested in the shade for a good three hours in the hottest part of the day, while an abundant meal was prepared, after which a deliberate start was made by the well refreshed party.

Then followed a long, slow bullock march till quite early evening, and again the black led them to a beautiful woodland patch at a place where the river whose banks they were following showed a good shallow crossing, another display of traces proving that it was a customary halting-place on the way to some kraal.

Here the great creaking waggons were drawn up, a fire was made and the men busied themselves looking after the cattle and the ponies, a capital meal was prepared, but without any addition being made by rifle or gun; and just at dark, by the light of the twinkling lanterns, preparations began for passing the night.

“I say, Mark, you have to keep the watch,” said Dean. “Don’t you feel proud?”

“Not a bit,” said Mark. “Our black chap seems to be doing that. Look at him parading up and down there with his spear over his shoulder just as if he was the grand boss of it all and we were his men.”

Just then he strode up to where the boys were talking.

“Lions?” said Mark, in a questioning tone.

The man smiled pleasantly, and the boy repeated his question; but it was plain that the black did not understand.

“Oomph! Oomph! Oomph!” growled Mark, in as near an imitation of the monarch of the forest’s roar as he could contrive after a couple of visits to the Zoo; but it had no effect whatever on their surroundings till the black, who now fully grasped his meaning, crouched down and uttered a startling, barking roar which made two or three of the nearest bullocks start up and stare in their direction.

“Here, you, sir, stop that!” shouted Buck Denham, the driver of their waggon, the first being in charge of the Hottentot.

The black turned to him, smiling, and nodded, before meeting the boys’ eyes again and shaking his head.

Just then the doctor approached, to ask the reason of their guide’s imitation.

“Oh,” he said, on being informed, “don’t encourage him in anything of that sort again, or we shall have a stampede of the ponies and bullocks. Well, Mark, recollect that it’s your first watch to-night.”

“Oh, I shan’t forget,” was the reply. “But you don’t think we have come out far enough yet to meet with dangerous wild beasts, do you?”

“Oh, indeed, but I do,” replied the doctor. “We have left the last post of civilisation behind, and we may come upon danger at any time. Of course you will mount guard with one of the double rifles charged with bullet, and if there really is any suggestion of danger you will fire, so as to give the alarm. We shall come to your help directly.”

“Oh, yes, I understand,” said Mark confidently, and he passed the intervening time before he received his orders going round their little camp with his cousin, watching the final preparations made by the drivers and forelopers, a couple of ordinary thick-lipped blacks, and then having a chat with the two keepers about what a change it was from the park and grounds of the old manor.

As the time approached, Mark, in spite of his assumed cheerfulness, could not master a slight feeling of discomfort. It was evidently going to be a cool, dark night. The very sound of it was startling to the lad—the announcement that he was to keep the full watch over their little camp of two waggons in a country where lions were common, and on one of the banks of the river which might very well be haunted by hippopotami and loathsome crocodiles.

The captain had spoken of its being called Reptile River, and of course that was what it meant. The very thought of it was alarming. He had read enough to know that hippopotami came out to feed by night, crushing up the succulent weeds and softer canes, grinding all up in their huge portmanteau-like jaws, while it was a well known fact that the ponderous beasts would rush at and trample down anyone who came in their way.

All that was bad enough, but nothing to compare for horror with the thought of a huge lizard or newt-shaped creature lying in wait ready to seize upon human being or ordinary animal, and drag its prey down into some hole beneath the bank, ready to be devoured at the monster’s leisure.

Mark tried very hard to chase away such thoughts, but they kept coming on, right up to the time when he finished his supper and met the doctor’s eyes.

“Ready, Mark?” he said.

“Yes, sir,” said the boy firmly.

“That’s right,” said his father. “Keep a sharp look out, my boy. We are all trusting you to take care of us for the next few hours. Good-night.”

“Good-night, father.”

The boy shouldered the double rifle and followed the doctor.

“I should keep moving, Mark, my boy,” said the latter. “It will occupy your attention and make the time seem to pass more quickly. It will keep you warm too, for it’s sure to be very chilly later on. Stop here a minute or two. I just want to go to the forward waggon and say a word or two to the men. I will join you again directly.”

Mark drew himself up stiffly as the doctor walked away, and then his heart seemed to give a bound, for there was a faint rustle just in front, and the boy brought his piece down to the present and made the locks click. “It’s only me, sir,” said a familiar voice. “You, Dan!” cried the boy, pressing one hand on the region of his heart, which was beating fast.

“Yes, sir; just me. You need not shoot. I have been waiting till the doctor had gone. I thought as it was rather a new job for a youngster like you, I’d come and ask you whether you would like me to come and keep the watch with you. You see, it’s all fresh to you, but it’s the sort of thing I have been brought up to aboard ship.”

“It is very good of you,” said Mark, warming up at the man’s thoughtfulness, “but you had better go and lie down and go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to go to sleep, sir.”

“But you will lose your night’s rest.”

“Not me, sir. I shall just shut one eye in the morning and let that have a snooze for a couple of hours while I get on with my work or keep on tramp. Then when that one’s rested I can make him open and let the other have a snooze.”

“No, no, it won’t do,” said Mark firmly, much as he would have liked to have the man’s company. “It’s my duty to take the watch, and I must take it.”

“Mean it, sir?”

“Certainly,” replied Mark. “I wouldn’t have it thought that—there, go away; the doctor’s coming back.”

The sailor slipped away, and the doctor rejoined the boy, and pointed out a beat for him which should take him right round the waggons and the two spans of oxen.

“There,” he said, “you know what you have got to do—to fire if there is any cause for anxiety.”

“And I suppose I had better not go too near the river?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said the doctor. “It’s a mere stream just about here, though I daresay it’s pretty big after rain. Good-night. You will wake up your cousin at about two. Good-night.”

“Good-night,” replied Mark, and he felt that his words must have sounded short to the doctor and full of annoyance, for somehow he thought that it was not fair for him to go away and leave such a boy as he was; and besides, it seemed unkind after he had made such a plain allusion to the river, for the doctor to treat it so lightly. Of course he knew that it was only a little river, a mere stream; but then it was big lower down, and what was to prevent any dangerous beast or reptile from crawling up to lie in wait for anyone that was near?

“Never mind,” muttered the boy, “I suppose it’s natural to feel a bit nervous; but I am not going to show the white feather.”

He stood still, listening and trying to make out the doctor’s step, but he could not hear a sound.

It was very dark, not a star showing, for a faint mist hung above the trees, and for a long time the only thing he heard was a stamp that sounded startling until he made up his mind that it must have been a fidgety movement on the part of one of the ponies, and shouldering his rifle, he stepped out slowly so as to pass right round the little camp.

But even that was difficult, for it was not until he was close upon the waggons that he could make them out, and as he went on the big bullocks were only represented to him by what seemed to be so many clumps of bush or heaps of soil.

He walked as slowly as he could so as to make his rounds take up as much time as possible, and as he came to the end of each traverse he tried to think out how many minutes it must have taken. This slow march was completed four times, and then he came to the conclusion that about an hour of his watch must have passed away, but only to alter his mind after a little thought and mentally see more clearly, that it could not be a quarter or even an eighth of what he realised now was going to be a very long and dreary watch.

“Well, it’s no use to be impatient,” he thought. “It’s no worse for me than it will be for all the rest. One doesn’t like it, but then the pleasure of the travelling and what we shall see right up in the hilly part where the great kopjes rise must make up for a bit of trouble.”

He moved on again slowly, keeping a sharp look out in the direction of the stream and feeling convinced that he had heard a splash.

Then as he listened intently he was just about to come to the conclusion that it was fancy, when there was another, this time a regular heavy, wallowing sound. What it was he could not tell, but he felt sure that it must be some huge beast making its way through the shallow water and mud.

Mark’s next thought was that the brute, whatever it might be, had left the river and was now stealing slowly towards him.

“Can’t be a hippo,” he thought, “or I should hear him crashing through the reeds and bushes. No, it must be one of those loathsome great efts, the scaly slimy brutes, crawling softly;” and at the very thought of it he pressed thumb and finger upon cock and trigger of his piece twice over so as to prepare for action without the premonitory click that accompanied the setting of each lock.

It was hard work to keep from turning sharply and running, but the boy set his teeth and mastered the desire. But he held his piece in front with two fingers on the triggers ready to fire, when all at once from a short distance behind him, and right in the direction in which he would have run, there came a deep, elongated puff as of some big animal, and he felt that his first idea was right, and that one of the huge hippos had caused the wallowing sound in leaving the stream and then made its way right behind him so as to cut him off from his friends.

“The doctor might well tell me to load with ball,” he said. “Why, a shot gun would not have sent the pellets through the monster’s hide.”

There was a repetition of the heavy breath, apparently much nearer, which set the boy’s heart thumping rapidly within his chest, and then the heavy beating began to subside as rapidly as it had commenced, for he said to himself, “Oh, you cowardly fool! Why, I am standing close to the bullocks;” and he stepped boldly out in the direction from which the heavy breathing had come, and began to speak softly to the great sleek animals, a couple of them responding with what sounded like so many sighs.

Mark’s tramp around the camp became a little faster now as he stepped out and began musing about how easy it was to frighten one’s self by imagining all sorts of horrors hidden by the darkness.

“Why, the doctor’s right,” he said; “I don’t believe that there’s anything one might mind in the little river, and of course, if there were lions near, the ponies and the bullocks would know it before I should. There, who’s afraid of its being dark? Not I.”

And walking and pausing by turns, the boy kept his watch, working hard to convince himself that he ought to be very proud of the confidence placed in him.

“There’s something so real about it,” he thought. “It’s quite grand marching round and round here with a loaded double-barrelled rifle over my shoulder. I wonder how old Dean will feel. I’ll be bound to say he’ll be just as squirmy as I was. He won’t go to sleep the first time he’s on the watch.”

The hours seemed to pass very slowly, though it was at their usual rate, and at last to his great satisfaction not only could he feel sure that half of his watch must have passed, but that it was growing lighter.

It could not be the approach of dawn, for he could see a few stars peeping out here and there, and he realised that this was caused by the lifting of the mist under the influence of a light breeze that felt almost chilly.

Mark was standing some little distance from the second waggon where the ponies were picketed, when all at once his heart set up its heavy beating again, for coming in his direction along the edge of the patch of forest he could plainly see a big, dark animal creeping cautiously towards where the ponies were tethered.

Mark watched it for a few moments, till he felt that it must have passed behind the trunk of one of the larger trees, and then it was gone.

“Could it be a lion?” he thought. “No, it had not the big, shaggy head. But it might have been a lioness, or perhaps some big leopard. Ah!” he panted, “there it is again! It’s after the ponies. It must be!” and calling to mind that he had cocked his rifle, he covered the dimly-seen animal, which was coming very slowly nearer, and he could make out that it had moved on a few feet and then stopped, as if crouching down waiting to make a spring.

“What did the doctor say?” thought Mark. “I was not to fire unless there was real necessity. There must be real necessity here, for that beast is creeping closer and closer so as to be within easy distance for its spring.”

The boy hesitated no longer, but raising his rifle to his shoulder he covered the object that was advancing, and was about to draw trigger when he realised the fact that he was aiming at what seemed to be a bush, while the lioness, or whatever it was, had disappeared.

Mark stared in wonder, for he could not understand how it was that an object which had seemed so clear in the transparent darkness had disappeared so easily, and he was staring almost wildly in the direction where he had seen it last when there was a faint, rustling sound a little to his left, convincing him that the nocturnal marauder had passed a pensile bough of a tree that must be sweeping the ground, and must be close upon the ponies, one of which uttered a low, tremulous, whinnying sound, and gazing sharply in the direction Mark saw as he drew trigger the big animal assuming a rampant position in springing upon the pony.

The silence of the night was broken by a roar, and Mark felt that a cloud was interposed between himself and the camp visitant which hurled him violently to the ground.

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