Chapter Thirteen.“Don’t wake the Wrong Man.”“What are you laughing at, Buck?”“You, sir,” cried the man. “You’ll get more used to our noises in time.”“Then it’s that horrible brute of a hyaena again. What a doleful howl! Sounds just as if it was crying after its mother.”“But that isn’t it, sir. He’s howling after his supper.”A short time after Mark caught sight of the doctor approaching, grasped the sign he gave him, sprang up, and went to the waggon for his rifle, which he carefully loaded, and then began his solitary watch, which seemed less wearisome on this occasion as he paraded to and fro and round and round in the silence of the sleeping camp. Every now and then he heard some startling sound, and ever and anon he listened to the hyaena’s wail, turning at times into what sounded like a mocking laugh. Now and again too there was a cracked trumpet-like cry from the river, but neither was this startling, as he had learned to know it as the call of some night-hunting stork or crane.Once or twice his finger went to the trigger of his piece involuntarily, for it seemed to him that the loathsome animal that had hung about the camp was creeping closer in search of food; but the fire just then sprang up as the result of more fuel being thrown upon it, scaring away the foul beast, for after a few words with the Hottentot and the foreloper before they went back to their shelter beneath the leading waggon, he heard the hyaena no more.The next event that enlivened the wearisome watch was a visit from the doctor, to whom the lad made his report, which was followed by a short chat.“You won’t be sorry to be relieved, Mark, my boy,” he said. “You remember, of course, that Peter Dance is to relieve you, so don’t wake the wrong man.”“I shan’t make any mistake,” replied Mark confidently; and then he was alone once more, taking a turn or two about the camp, listening to the night cries again, and enjoying the confidence given to him by the knowledge that there was nothing in them that he need fear.For the most part he kept to one particular spot, where he could stand and listen, at the same time keeping his eyes fixed upon the glowing fire, comforted as it were by its social, friendly look as of a companion which he could trust to ward off danger; and when he felt disposed he could walk up to it near enough to let its light fall upon the strong silver hunting watch whose case flew open at the pressure upon the spring, perhaps not so often as might have happened under the circumstances.Somehow a sleeper accustomed to a certain duty is ruled by some natural impulse to awaken almost to a minute if in the habit of rising to perform that task, and here Mark roused himself from a train of dreamy thought to make another journey towards the fire and bend down to look at his watch.“Hurrah!” he said to himself. “Ten minutes to two. Just time to throw on some wood, and rouse up old Peter.”He stood to listen for a minute or two, and then caught up one of the rough armfuls of wood laid ready for the purpose, threw it on the fire, and then hurried to the men’s waggon and roused the keeper.“Who is it? You, Mr Mark, sir?”“Yes. Jump up.”“Where did you hear ’em?” said the man. “In the long coppice, or down by the ten acres?”“Hear whom?” said Mark.“Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. I was dreaming that I was at home and that you had come to tell me that you had heard poachers. All right, sir,” said the man, creeping into the shadow after getting his rifle. “You’ve got the fire going, then?”“Yes, but you had better throw on another armful soon.”“Oh, yes, sir; all right. All been quiet?”“Yes, except that howling brute; but I haven’t heard him for the last hour. You are quite awake, aren’t you?”“Awake, sir? Oh, yes,” said the man, shouldering his piece and walking beside his young master to the other waggon.“Good-night,” said Mark. “I can hardly keep my eyes open now.”“Same here,” muttered the man, as Mark climbed to his resting-place, so heavily assailed by sleep that he was hardly conscious of his words.Then all was silent but for the heavy breathing of the sleepers and an occasional stamp from one of the picketed ponies.
“What are you laughing at, Buck?”
“You, sir,” cried the man. “You’ll get more used to our noises in time.”
“Then it’s that horrible brute of a hyaena again. What a doleful howl! Sounds just as if it was crying after its mother.”
“But that isn’t it, sir. He’s howling after his supper.”
A short time after Mark caught sight of the doctor approaching, grasped the sign he gave him, sprang up, and went to the waggon for his rifle, which he carefully loaded, and then began his solitary watch, which seemed less wearisome on this occasion as he paraded to and fro and round and round in the silence of the sleeping camp. Every now and then he heard some startling sound, and ever and anon he listened to the hyaena’s wail, turning at times into what sounded like a mocking laugh. Now and again too there was a cracked trumpet-like cry from the river, but neither was this startling, as he had learned to know it as the call of some night-hunting stork or crane.
Once or twice his finger went to the trigger of his piece involuntarily, for it seemed to him that the loathsome animal that had hung about the camp was creeping closer in search of food; but the fire just then sprang up as the result of more fuel being thrown upon it, scaring away the foul beast, for after a few words with the Hottentot and the foreloper before they went back to their shelter beneath the leading waggon, he heard the hyaena no more.
The next event that enlivened the wearisome watch was a visit from the doctor, to whom the lad made his report, which was followed by a short chat.
“You won’t be sorry to be relieved, Mark, my boy,” he said. “You remember, of course, that Peter Dance is to relieve you, so don’t wake the wrong man.”
“I shan’t make any mistake,” replied Mark confidently; and then he was alone once more, taking a turn or two about the camp, listening to the night cries again, and enjoying the confidence given to him by the knowledge that there was nothing in them that he need fear.
For the most part he kept to one particular spot, where he could stand and listen, at the same time keeping his eyes fixed upon the glowing fire, comforted as it were by its social, friendly look as of a companion which he could trust to ward off danger; and when he felt disposed he could walk up to it near enough to let its light fall upon the strong silver hunting watch whose case flew open at the pressure upon the spring, perhaps not so often as might have happened under the circumstances.
Somehow a sleeper accustomed to a certain duty is ruled by some natural impulse to awaken almost to a minute if in the habit of rising to perform that task, and here Mark roused himself from a train of dreamy thought to make another journey towards the fire and bend down to look at his watch.
“Hurrah!” he said to himself. “Ten minutes to two. Just time to throw on some wood, and rouse up old Peter.”
He stood to listen for a minute or two, and then caught up one of the rough armfuls of wood laid ready for the purpose, threw it on the fire, and then hurried to the men’s waggon and roused the keeper.
“Who is it? You, Mr Mark, sir?”
“Yes. Jump up.”
“Where did you hear ’em?” said the man. “In the long coppice, or down by the ten acres?”
“Hear whom?” said Mark.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, sir. I was dreaming that I was at home and that you had come to tell me that you had heard poachers. All right, sir,” said the man, creeping into the shadow after getting his rifle. “You’ve got the fire going, then?”
“Yes, but you had better throw on another armful soon.”
“Oh, yes, sir; all right. All been quiet?”
“Yes, except that howling brute; but I haven’t heard him for the last hour. You are quite awake, aren’t you?”
“Awake, sir? Oh, yes,” said the man, shouldering his piece and walking beside his young master to the other waggon.
“Good-night,” said Mark. “I can hardly keep my eyes open now.”
“Same here,” muttered the man, as Mark climbed to his resting-place, so heavily assailed by sleep that he was hardly conscious of his words.
Then all was silent but for the heavy breathing of the sleepers and an occasional stamp from one of the picketed ponies.
Chapter Fourteen.A Pretty Dance.It was not a feather-bed; there was neither bolster nor pillow; and a single blanket laid across three sacks of Indian corn did not counteract the hard nubbly feeling. But a couple more blankets drawn over the lad right up to his chin thoroughly kept off the crisp coolness of the air on the high plateau of a country where the sun was broiling by day. Youth, health, exercise and an open-air life did the rest to make that sleeping place a perfect Elysium.Add to the above a long watch in the darkness, and it is not surprising that as Mark Roche stretched out his legs to the fullest extent as he lay upon his back, he uttered a low, long, soft “Hah–h–h!” and the next instant was fast asleep.How long that lasted he could not tell, but he half awoke; better still, one may say he only one quarter awoke bodily; mentally he was so to speak soaked, saturated with sleep, and his waking was only into a kind of confusion out of which he could not rouse himself.All he knew was that something was dreadfully wrong—when—how—where—he could not make out.There was a great noise going on, and the darkness was something horrible. This seemed to last for a long time—seemed only, and he began to struggle as if a heavy body was lying on him and pressing him down.It was like some terrible nightmare, and as he struggled against it he threw out his arms, half fancying that he was fighting to save himself from being suffocated in a flood that was not liquid but solid and hard. Then one hand came in contact with something soft, which he realised to be a human face, and then just a faint ray of understanding flashed through his muddled brain and he knew where he was, and that the face must be his cousin’s.Then the mental darkness closed in again and he was as confused as ever. The noise went on, and he could not tell what it was till after a short interval another ray of light dawned upon him and he caught at and shook his companion, who was sharing the sacks, and sleeping so hard that Mark’s attempts to rouse him were in vain.And then speech came, and the boy found himself muttering aloud, though it seemed to be somebody else talking. But now the power to put that and that together to some extent grew stronger.“Oh, Dean, how you do sleep!” came from somewhere. “Here, wake up!” And he grew a little better, for he felt that his lips were touching his cousin’s warm ear, while now it was another voice that said drowsily, “What’s the matter?”“Ah! that’s better,” the other voice ejaculated, and he heard it plainly, though it was partially smothered by the awful confusion of strange sounds that came as it were from a distance. “Oh, how dark!”And he knew now that it was his own voice, for he was rapidly shaking off the strange feeling of mental torpidity.“Father! Dr Robertson! Are you there?”His words came back to him as if his face was covered with something thick, while he fully grasped the idea now that the noise that smote his ears was somewhere far away.“I don’t know what’s the matter,” he muttered. “Am I ill? It can’t be a dream. Here, Dean, wake up!”“What’s the matter?” came again drowsily.“I want you to listen.”“Bother! Will in the morning.”“Oh, how can you be so stupid!”Mark was rapidly recovering now.Snore!“Will you wake up?” And this was accompanied by a shake.“Be quiet! Want me to hit you on the nose?”“Yes, and I want you to shake me. I’m—I’m—oh, I don’t know how I feel—yes, I do,” added the boy, as the power of thinking and acting now grew stronger. “Dean!”“Oh, bother!” cried his cousin. “Now then, what is it?” And in the darkness Mark felt his hand shaken off, and from the movement knew that his cousin had risen up into a sitting position sharply and banged himself down again, the noise he made being followed instantly by a loud snore.“Dean!” cried Mark again, renewing his attack, and this time giving the sleeper a violent shake, which roused him again.“Now then, what is it?”“Listen! Do you hear that dreadful noise?”“No–o!” came sleepily. “What is it?”The question was asked through two folds of blanket, and naturally sounded woolly.“Lions, I think.”“Tell them to lie down.”“Oh, don’t be such a fool!”“Nogoinabe. Wha’ time is it? Goo’ night.”“Dozey! Oh, you sleepy old dormouse! I am sure there is something dreadful going on. We are in danger.”“Lem dange. Here, tell the doctor. Don’ wake uncle, nor me.”“Oh, dear, what shall I do!” said Mark, half aloud. “Oh, my head! My head! This must be—yes, I remember; I am in the waggon—here, Dean! Dean!” And he began shaking his cousin again.“Don’t! Don’t!” And there was the sound of the boy’s bare feet kicking, and a snatch made as if to draw back the blankets that had been sent flying. “Oh, I will serve you out for—here, what do you want?”“You to wake up. Can’t you see how dark it is?”“Dark?”“Yes; quite black.”Dean was wide awake now.“Yes, everything’s as black as black.”“Well, did you expect it to be white?”“Can’t you hear that dreadful noise?”“Yes. What is it? Oh, I am so sleepy! Uncle snoring.”“There it is again!” cried Mark wildly.“Well, I don’t care,” cried Dean angrily, and he dragged his blankets over his head. “Hullo! I say! There’s something the matter;” and the boy now rose to his knees. “Here, where are the guns?”“I don’t know. Yes, I do,” cried Mark, feeling about. “I have got one—yes—here’s yours. Let’s get to the door.”“No, stop. Listen!” and Dean caught his cousin by the arm. “It’s a lion. I’m sure of it.”“So am I,” cried Mark—“a dozen of them. Oh, Dean, Dean! Hark at the poor bullocks! They are pulling them down, and they’ll be killing those ponies. Here, let go.”“What are you going to do?”“Going outside to shoot.”“No, no; don’t do that, or we shall have them springing in here.”“But—”“There, you needn’t go now. There’s somebody else shooting.” For a couple of reports came from somewhere in the direction of where the fire kept burning, and then another, followed by a confused noise of bellowing oxen, trampling feet, and the deep-toned, barking roar of a lion, which dominated everything else.“Here, Mark,” cried Dean in a hoarse whisper, clinging to his cousin now tightly, “we are attacked by lions.”“Seems like it,” was the reply. “Where are father and the doctor?”“I don’t know. I would say let’s shout, only it would be like asking the savage animals to come.”“But we must do something. Are you loaded?” And as Mark spoke there was the sound of his raising the cocks of his piece.“No. My hand shakes so. That’s better. I could hardly do it. I say, don’t you feel frightened, Mark?”“Horribly. But look sharp. Are you ready? Let’s jump out together, and then fire.”“All right. Ready now. I wish I didn’t feel in such a shiver. Here, I’m ready. Perhaps it will scare the brutes.”“Hope so,” said Mark, as he drew aside the folds of the tilt and crouched by the waggon chest ready to spring. “Hooray! There’s somebody shouting. Now then; take hold of my hand. Let’s jump together.”There was a double thud, as the boys sprang out into the darkness.“Now then—ready?”“Yes,” cried Dean, firmly now, as soon as he had made his desperate plunge into danger.“Fire!”Bang! Bang!“Again!” cried Mark, and directly after there was the repetition of the reports and the rustling sound of replacing the empty cartridges.“Hi, there!” came in a voice from out of the darkness, sounding distant. “Is that you boys?”“Yes, doctor,” cried Mark. “Where’s father?”“Here, my boy. Where’s your cousin?”“I’m here, uncle.”“Good. But you two fellows ought to have stopped in the waggon.”Directly after Sir James and the doctor joined them, and a couple more shots came from a distance, in the direction where the thundering beat of hoofs was beginning to die away, and then shots again, followed by a hideous snarling and roaring, as if very near at hand several lions were quarrelling like angry cats over their prey.“Ahoy, there!” shouted the doctor.“Ahoy!” came from two places in the distance.“Rally here,” cried the doctor, as loud as he could shout. “Up here by the waggon!”This was followed by the beating of feet upon the thick grass, and all the time the trampling of oxen grew more distant, while the savage snarling went on and was punctuated in the darkness every now and then by a deep-toned bark.“This way,” cried the doctor. “Come on!”The boys’ hearts beat hard at this, for the doctor’s words were answered by a chorus of snarls from what Mark judged now to be a portion of the forest not many yards away; and involuntarily the boys raised their rifles to their shoulders as they glanced to right and left, trying to make out through the darkness whether the way was clear for a shot.“Hadn’t we better fire again, father?”“No,” said the doctor sharply, from close at hand. “The men are rallying, and we may hit somebody.”“Yes,” said Sir James quickly.“And besides,” continued the doctor, “if we fire at where that snarling comes from it will be answered by a rush. The brutes can see in this horrid darkness.”“What are they doing?” asked Dean.“They have pulled down a bullock, boys, and they are quarrelling over it. Can’t you hear? Oh, this darkness!” cried the speaker, and he gave—so the sound indicated—a stamp of one foot.“Is the boss there?” cried a gruff voice.“Yes, this way, Denham,” said the doctor. “Mind the lions.”“Oh, I hear them, sir. Anyone hurt?”“I hope not,” replied the doctor, as the man came nearer, rustling through the grass. “Where are your men?”Oomph! Oomph! Oomph! came in a deep-toned roar, followed by a chorus of snarls.“Old ’uns and young ’uns,” said Denham, subduing his voice a little. “They don’t like our being so near. I expect my chaps have shinned up the trees somewhere. That’s what they would do, gentlemen; and old Brown has used those long legs of his to put him miles away by this time.”“But have you heard anything of my two men?” asked Sir James—“Dance and Bacon?”“I’ve ’eard them letting go with their rifles, sir.”“And what about Dan?”“Oh, I haven’t heard anything of him, sir.”“Ahoy!” came in the little sailor’s well known voice, from somewhere in the darkness.“Ahoy!” cried the boys together.Roo—oomph!Roo—oomph!Roo—oomph! issued from the spot that had now grown familiar.“Steady, gentlemen—steady! All cats have got the savage on strong when they are at work at their grub. Wait a bit. Let’s get the others together, and then we’ll give the brutes a volley as near as we can.”“Cooey! Cooey!” came out of the darkness.“This way! Here!” shouted Buck Denham.Roo—oomph!Roo—oomph!Roo—oomph! came now, with a fiercer roar than ever, which roused the lion’s companions to utter a furious burst of snarls.“Cooey! Cooey!” came again.“All right, mate,” said the big driver, in a low voice. “You must find your own way now. That last bit of tongue meant, look out for squalls.”“Anybody hurt?” came in a well known voice now from close at hand, and Dan hurried up.“I think not, Dan,” whispered Mark, and then he stretched out his hand and felt for the little sailor. “Are you all right?”“Yes, sir. I fired off all my cartridges.”“Here’s someone else coming, gentlemen,” said Denham, in a low, deep tone. “They are your two lads, I think.”“Yes,” cried Dean eagerly. “Nobody else would have cried cooey, unless it was little Dan.”“Yes, I might, but I didn’t to-night; I have been too busy.”“That you, Peter. Where’s Bob Bacon?”“Me, Mr Mark, sir?” said the latter. “Here I am, as large as life. We have been at it pretty warm. But I want it to grow light, to see if we can retrieve any of the game.”“Yah! Ain’t ’it anything,” growled Buck Denham.“But where’s Peter? I heard two cooeys,” said Mark.“Yes; that was me, sir. I ain’t seen him.”“Well, now then, gentlemen,” said Buck Denham; “all loaded?”“’Cept me,” said Dan.“Take these. Here are some cartridges,” said Sir James.“Now then—ready?” said Denham, quite loudly, and there was another burst of roars and snarls. “Thank ye,” said Denham; “that’s just let us know where abouts to fire. Now, all of you let them have it, as near as you can guess; and fire low. I’d kneel down. I’ll just give them a rouse up with a shout. That will make them roar again. Then you, doctor, give the word, and let ’em have it.”“Right,” said the doctor.“Ready, my lads?” whispered Buck.There was a low murmur of assent, and the driver put one hand to his cheek. “Hullo, there, you!”Er—rr—oomph! came in a roar, followed by a snarl; and this time there was a sharp crackling of bushes, as one of the savage beasts made a bound towards them.It was all guess work, but the volley fired at the advancing brute was followed by a roar from several feline throats and a struggling plunge and trampling amidst the undergrowth, with a fiercer snarling than ever.“Load again quickly,” said the doctor, “and stand firm, my lads.”“Ay, we’ve got to,” added Denham. “I was in hopes that those shots would have scared them; but one of them has got it pretty warm.” For the violent kicking and tearing amidst the bushes went on, supplemented by the snarling and growling of the hidden beasts.“How long is it to morning?” asked the doctor in a whisper.“Good two hours, I should say, sir.”“Then we had better retreat to the waggons before the savage brutes take courage and come on at us.”“They won’t attack, sir, as long as they have got that bullock there, unless we go near. Now, if we had only got a light we could rouse up that fire—hullo!”For all at once, as if the man’s words had been heard, there was a soft crackling amidst the embers where the fire should have been blazing, and faintly illuminated by a glow from the earth, the watchers caught sight of the face of the Illaka, looking strange and ruddy, while as the black stirred up the ashes with the haft of his spear there was enough life in them to emit a bluish golden flame which caught the twigs he threw on. The light cast upon him increased, and in a few minutes he had augmented the fire by throwing on armfuls of wood, till there was a fierce blaze which lit up the edge of the forest and made the waggons and their tilts show up as if of gold.“Well done, Mak!” cried Denham. “That will do more than all our shooting. More wood—all you can.”The black understood him, and as snarl after snarl came from out of the forest the dry wood blazed up and the growling grew less and less.“They’re a-sneaking off, sir,” said the big driver, “and I think you might give them another shot or two to hurry them.”“All together,” said the doctor sharply. “Ready! Fire!”The flashes from the mouths of the rifles looked slight in the glow of the flames, and the reports rang out loudly, to be followed by a fierce yell and a snarling roar, as, feeling awestricken by what was taking place, the boys pictured to themselves amidst the low growth the huge lion tearing about in its rage and pain.“I’d keep quiet, gentlemen,” whispered Buck. “One of us has hit another, and if he made out where we were he might charge.”The man ceased speaking as the tearing and raging about of the wounded beasts went on, but evidently growing more distant, till their snapping and snarling were almost drowned by the fierce, loud crackling of the burning fire.“It’s crawling away,” whispered Mark excitedly.“Yes, sir. He’s got it,” replied the driver; “but I would keep quiet, or we may bring him back to pay us.”For some minutes no one spoke, while the fire was freshly fed by the black, who looked almost diabolical as he danced about it in a strange way, ending by approaching the group, who crouched behind some bushes, which would have made but a frail breastwork had one of the lions charged.A quarter of an hour must have elapsed before anyone spoke again, and during that time the crackling of the burning wood, which now lit up a wide circle, was the only sound that was heard.“Do you think we may move now, Denham?” said the doctor. “Or would you fire a few more charges?”“I don’t want to waste powder and shot, sir, and I think they are all gone. Here, Mak, my lad, lions gone?”The black made no reply, but came cautiously close up and listened.“Come,” he said, and in obedience to his brief command Buck, the doctor, and Bob Bacon ranged themselves with presented rifles on either side, and, not to be outdone, the two boys ran forward to join the advancing party as well.The spot where the feline marauders had been busy overtheir prey was not above sixty yards from the last waggon, and as the little party advanced, gaining confidence from the silence that reigned, and reducing the distance to about half, gazing searchingly the while at what looked like a breastwork of leaves lit up by the fire, the silence seemed to be awful, and as if moved by one impulse all stopped short at the end of another ten yards.“Must be gone, I think, gentlemen,” whispered Buck; “but be ready to fire, for they are treacherous beasts, and one may be lying there badly wounded but with life enough in him to do mischief after all.”“Hadn’t we better wait till daylight?” whispered the doctor.“It will mean so long, sir,” said the driver, rather gruffly. “I think we might risk it now, Mak,” he cried, and he added a few words in the black’s dialect. “He’s willing, gentlemen,” said the driver quietly. “Let’s all go on again.”Then slowly and cautiously the little line advanced, till all at once the black stopped, holding his spear point low and the haft pressed into the ground, for there was a savage roar, and a huge lion, which looked golden, made a tremendous bound right out into the light.Dean uttered a cry, and the brute couched, snarling fiercely, with the boy lying beneath the monster’s outstretched paws.
It was not a feather-bed; there was neither bolster nor pillow; and a single blanket laid across three sacks of Indian corn did not counteract the hard nubbly feeling. But a couple more blankets drawn over the lad right up to his chin thoroughly kept off the crisp coolness of the air on the high plateau of a country where the sun was broiling by day. Youth, health, exercise and an open-air life did the rest to make that sleeping place a perfect Elysium.
Add to the above a long watch in the darkness, and it is not surprising that as Mark Roche stretched out his legs to the fullest extent as he lay upon his back, he uttered a low, long, soft “Hah–h–h!” and the next instant was fast asleep.
How long that lasted he could not tell, but he half awoke; better still, one may say he only one quarter awoke bodily; mentally he was so to speak soaked, saturated with sleep, and his waking was only into a kind of confusion out of which he could not rouse himself.
All he knew was that something was dreadfully wrong—when—how—where—he could not make out.
There was a great noise going on, and the darkness was something horrible. This seemed to last for a long time—seemed only, and he began to struggle as if a heavy body was lying on him and pressing him down.
It was like some terrible nightmare, and as he struggled against it he threw out his arms, half fancying that he was fighting to save himself from being suffocated in a flood that was not liquid but solid and hard. Then one hand came in contact with something soft, which he realised to be a human face, and then just a faint ray of understanding flashed through his muddled brain and he knew where he was, and that the face must be his cousin’s.
Then the mental darkness closed in again and he was as confused as ever. The noise went on, and he could not tell what it was till after a short interval another ray of light dawned upon him and he caught at and shook his companion, who was sharing the sacks, and sleeping so hard that Mark’s attempts to rouse him were in vain.
And then speech came, and the boy found himself muttering aloud, though it seemed to be somebody else talking. But now the power to put that and that together to some extent grew stronger.
“Oh, Dean, how you do sleep!” came from somewhere. “Here, wake up!” And he grew a little better, for he felt that his lips were touching his cousin’s warm ear, while now it was another voice that said drowsily, “What’s the matter?”
“Ah! that’s better,” the other voice ejaculated, and he heard it plainly, though it was partially smothered by the awful confusion of strange sounds that came as it were from a distance. “Oh, how dark!”
And he knew now that it was his own voice, for he was rapidly shaking off the strange feeling of mental torpidity.
“Father! Dr Robertson! Are you there?”
His words came back to him as if his face was covered with something thick, while he fully grasped the idea now that the noise that smote his ears was somewhere far away.
“I don’t know what’s the matter,” he muttered. “Am I ill? It can’t be a dream. Here, Dean, wake up!”
“What’s the matter?” came again drowsily.
“I want you to listen.”
“Bother! Will in the morning.”
“Oh, how can you be so stupid!”
Mark was rapidly recovering now.
Snore!
“Will you wake up?” And this was accompanied by a shake.
“Be quiet! Want me to hit you on the nose?”
“Yes, and I want you to shake me. I’m—I’m—oh, I don’t know how I feel—yes, I do,” added the boy, as the power of thinking and acting now grew stronger. “Dean!”
“Oh, bother!” cried his cousin. “Now then, what is it?” And in the darkness Mark felt his hand shaken off, and from the movement knew that his cousin had risen up into a sitting position sharply and banged himself down again, the noise he made being followed instantly by a loud snore.
“Dean!” cried Mark again, renewing his attack, and this time giving the sleeper a violent shake, which roused him again.
“Now then, what is it?”
“Listen! Do you hear that dreadful noise?”
“No–o!” came sleepily. “What is it?”
The question was asked through two folds of blanket, and naturally sounded woolly.
“Lions, I think.”
“Tell them to lie down.”
“Oh, don’t be such a fool!”
“Nogoinabe. Wha’ time is it? Goo’ night.”
“Dozey! Oh, you sleepy old dormouse! I am sure there is something dreadful going on. We are in danger.”
“Lem dange. Here, tell the doctor. Don’ wake uncle, nor me.”
“Oh, dear, what shall I do!” said Mark, half aloud. “Oh, my head! My head! This must be—yes, I remember; I am in the waggon—here, Dean! Dean!” And he began shaking his cousin again.
“Don’t! Don’t!” And there was the sound of the boy’s bare feet kicking, and a snatch made as if to draw back the blankets that had been sent flying. “Oh, I will serve you out for—here, what do you want?”
“You to wake up. Can’t you see how dark it is?”
“Dark?”
“Yes; quite black.”
Dean was wide awake now.
“Yes, everything’s as black as black.”
“Well, did you expect it to be white?”
“Can’t you hear that dreadful noise?”
“Yes. What is it? Oh, I am so sleepy! Uncle snoring.”
“There it is again!” cried Mark wildly.
“Well, I don’t care,” cried Dean angrily, and he dragged his blankets over his head. “Hullo! I say! There’s something the matter;” and the boy now rose to his knees. “Here, where are the guns?”
“I don’t know. Yes, I do,” cried Mark, feeling about. “I have got one—yes—here’s yours. Let’s get to the door.”
“No, stop. Listen!” and Dean caught his cousin by the arm. “It’s a lion. I’m sure of it.”
“So am I,” cried Mark—“a dozen of them. Oh, Dean, Dean! Hark at the poor bullocks! They are pulling them down, and they’ll be killing those ponies. Here, let go.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Going outside to shoot.”
“No, no; don’t do that, or we shall have them springing in here.”
“But—”
“There, you needn’t go now. There’s somebody else shooting.” For a couple of reports came from somewhere in the direction of where the fire kept burning, and then another, followed by a confused noise of bellowing oxen, trampling feet, and the deep-toned, barking roar of a lion, which dominated everything else.
“Here, Mark,” cried Dean in a hoarse whisper, clinging to his cousin now tightly, “we are attacked by lions.”
“Seems like it,” was the reply. “Where are father and the doctor?”
“I don’t know. I would say let’s shout, only it would be like asking the savage animals to come.”
“But we must do something. Are you loaded?” And as Mark spoke there was the sound of his raising the cocks of his piece.
“No. My hand shakes so. That’s better. I could hardly do it. I say, don’t you feel frightened, Mark?”
“Horribly. But look sharp. Are you ready? Let’s jump out together, and then fire.”
“All right. Ready now. I wish I didn’t feel in such a shiver. Here, I’m ready. Perhaps it will scare the brutes.”
“Hope so,” said Mark, as he drew aside the folds of the tilt and crouched by the waggon chest ready to spring. “Hooray! There’s somebody shouting. Now then; take hold of my hand. Let’s jump together.”
There was a double thud, as the boys sprang out into the darkness.
“Now then—ready?”
“Yes,” cried Dean, firmly now, as soon as he had made his desperate plunge into danger.
“Fire!”
Bang! Bang!
“Again!” cried Mark, and directly after there was the repetition of the reports and the rustling sound of replacing the empty cartridges.
“Hi, there!” came in a voice from out of the darkness, sounding distant. “Is that you boys?”
“Yes, doctor,” cried Mark. “Where’s father?”
“Here, my boy. Where’s your cousin?”
“I’m here, uncle.”
“Good. But you two fellows ought to have stopped in the waggon.”
Directly after Sir James and the doctor joined them, and a couple more shots came from a distance, in the direction where the thundering beat of hoofs was beginning to die away, and then shots again, followed by a hideous snarling and roaring, as if very near at hand several lions were quarrelling like angry cats over their prey.
“Ahoy, there!” shouted the doctor.
“Ahoy!” came from two places in the distance.
“Rally here,” cried the doctor, as loud as he could shout. “Up here by the waggon!”
This was followed by the beating of feet upon the thick grass, and all the time the trampling of oxen grew more distant, while the savage snarling went on and was punctuated in the darkness every now and then by a deep-toned bark.
“This way,” cried the doctor. “Come on!”
The boys’ hearts beat hard at this, for the doctor’s words were answered by a chorus of snarls from what Mark judged now to be a portion of the forest not many yards away; and involuntarily the boys raised their rifles to their shoulders as they glanced to right and left, trying to make out through the darkness whether the way was clear for a shot.
“Hadn’t we better fire again, father?”
“No,” said the doctor sharply, from close at hand. “The men are rallying, and we may hit somebody.”
“Yes,” said Sir James quickly.
“And besides,” continued the doctor, “if we fire at where that snarling comes from it will be answered by a rush. The brutes can see in this horrid darkness.”
“What are they doing?” asked Dean.
“They have pulled down a bullock, boys, and they are quarrelling over it. Can’t you hear? Oh, this darkness!” cried the speaker, and he gave—so the sound indicated—a stamp of one foot.
“Is the boss there?” cried a gruff voice.
“Yes, this way, Denham,” said the doctor. “Mind the lions.”
“Oh, I hear them, sir. Anyone hurt?”
“I hope not,” replied the doctor, as the man came nearer, rustling through the grass. “Where are your men?”
Oomph! Oomph! Oomph! came in a deep-toned roar, followed by a chorus of snarls.
“Old ’uns and young ’uns,” said Denham, subduing his voice a little. “They don’t like our being so near. I expect my chaps have shinned up the trees somewhere. That’s what they would do, gentlemen; and old Brown has used those long legs of his to put him miles away by this time.”
“But have you heard anything of my two men?” asked Sir James—“Dance and Bacon?”
“I’ve ’eard them letting go with their rifles, sir.”
“And what about Dan?”
“Oh, I haven’t heard anything of him, sir.”
“Ahoy!” came in the little sailor’s well known voice, from somewhere in the darkness.
“Ahoy!” cried the boys together.
Roo—oomph!Roo—oomph!Roo—oomph! issued from the spot that had now grown familiar.
“Steady, gentlemen—steady! All cats have got the savage on strong when they are at work at their grub. Wait a bit. Let’s get the others together, and then we’ll give the brutes a volley as near as we can.”
“Cooey! Cooey!” came out of the darkness.
“This way! Here!” shouted Buck Denham.
Roo—oomph!Roo—oomph!Roo—oomph! came now, with a fiercer roar than ever, which roused the lion’s companions to utter a furious burst of snarls.
“Cooey! Cooey!” came again.
“All right, mate,” said the big driver, in a low voice. “You must find your own way now. That last bit of tongue meant, look out for squalls.”
“Anybody hurt?” came in a well known voice now from close at hand, and Dan hurried up.
“I think not, Dan,” whispered Mark, and then he stretched out his hand and felt for the little sailor. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, sir. I fired off all my cartridges.”
“Here’s someone else coming, gentlemen,” said Denham, in a low, deep tone. “They are your two lads, I think.”
“Yes,” cried Dean eagerly. “Nobody else would have cried cooey, unless it was little Dan.”
“Yes, I might, but I didn’t to-night; I have been too busy.”
“That you, Peter. Where’s Bob Bacon?”
“Me, Mr Mark, sir?” said the latter. “Here I am, as large as life. We have been at it pretty warm. But I want it to grow light, to see if we can retrieve any of the game.”
“Yah! Ain’t ’it anything,” growled Buck Denham.
“But where’s Peter? I heard two cooeys,” said Mark.
“Yes; that was me, sir. I ain’t seen him.”
“Well, now then, gentlemen,” said Buck Denham; “all loaded?”
“’Cept me,” said Dan.
“Take these. Here are some cartridges,” said Sir James.
“Now then—ready?” said Denham, quite loudly, and there was another burst of roars and snarls. “Thank ye,” said Denham; “that’s just let us know where abouts to fire. Now, all of you let them have it, as near as you can guess; and fire low. I’d kneel down. I’ll just give them a rouse up with a shout. That will make them roar again. Then you, doctor, give the word, and let ’em have it.”
“Right,” said the doctor.
“Ready, my lads?” whispered Buck.
There was a low murmur of assent, and the driver put one hand to his cheek. “Hullo, there, you!”
Er—rr—oomph! came in a roar, followed by a snarl; and this time there was a sharp crackling of bushes, as one of the savage beasts made a bound towards them.
It was all guess work, but the volley fired at the advancing brute was followed by a roar from several feline throats and a struggling plunge and trampling amidst the undergrowth, with a fiercer snarling than ever.
“Load again quickly,” said the doctor, “and stand firm, my lads.”
“Ay, we’ve got to,” added Denham. “I was in hopes that those shots would have scared them; but one of them has got it pretty warm.” For the violent kicking and tearing amidst the bushes went on, supplemented by the snarling and growling of the hidden beasts.
“How long is it to morning?” asked the doctor in a whisper.
“Good two hours, I should say, sir.”
“Then we had better retreat to the waggons before the savage brutes take courage and come on at us.”
“They won’t attack, sir, as long as they have got that bullock there, unless we go near. Now, if we had only got a light we could rouse up that fire—hullo!”
For all at once, as if the man’s words had been heard, there was a soft crackling amidst the embers where the fire should have been blazing, and faintly illuminated by a glow from the earth, the watchers caught sight of the face of the Illaka, looking strange and ruddy, while as the black stirred up the ashes with the haft of his spear there was enough life in them to emit a bluish golden flame which caught the twigs he threw on. The light cast upon him increased, and in a few minutes he had augmented the fire by throwing on armfuls of wood, till there was a fierce blaze which lit up the edge of the forest and made the waggons and their tilts show up as if of gold.
“Well done, Mak!” cried Denham. “That will do more than all our shooting. More wood—all you can.”
The black understood him, and as snarl after snarl came from out of the forest the dry wood blazed up and the growling grew less and less.
“They’re a-sneaking off, sir,” said the big driver, “and I think you might give them another shot or two to hurry them.”
“All together,” said the doctor sharply. “Ready! Fire!”
The flashes from the mouths of the rifles looked slight in the glow of the flames, and the reports rang out loudly, to be followed by a fierce yell and a snarling roar, as, feeling awestricken by what was taking place, the boys pictured to themselves amidst the low growth the huge lion tearing about in its rage and pain.
“I’d keep quiet, gentlemen,” whispered Buck. “One of us has hit another, and if he made out where we were he might charge.”
The man ceased speaking as the tearing and raging about of the wounded beasts went on, but evidently growing more distant, till their snapping and snarling were almost drowned by the fierce, loud crackling of the burning fire.
“It’s crawling away,” whispered Mark excitedly.
“Yes, sir. He’s got it,” replied the driver; “but I would keep quiet, or we may bring him back to pay us.”
For some minutes no one spoke, while the fire was freshly fed by the black, who looked almost diabolical as he danced about it in a strange way, ending by approaching the group, who crouched behind some bushes, which would have made but a frail breastwork had one of the lions charged.
A quarter of an hour must have elapsed before anyone spoke again, and during that time the crackling of the burning wood, which now lit up a wide circle, was the only sound that was heard.
“Do you think we may move now, Denham?” said the doctor. “Or would you fire a few more charges?”
“I don’t want to waste powder and shot, sir, and I think they are all gone. Here, Mak, my lad, lions gone?”
The black made no reply, but came cautiously close up and listened.
“Come,” he said, and in obedience to his brief command Buck, the doctor, and Bob Bacon ranged themselves with presented rifles on either side, and, not to be outdone, the two boys ran forward to join the advancing party as well.
The spot where the feline marauders had been busy overtheir prey was not above sixty yards from the last waggon, and as the little party advanced, gaining confidence from the silence that reigned, and reducing the distance to about half, gazing searchingly the while at what looked like a breastwork of leaves lit up by the fire, the silence seemed to be awful, and as if moved by one impulse all stopped short at the end of another ten yards.
“Must be gone, I think, gentlemen,” whispered Buck; “but be ready to fire, for they are treacherous beasts, and one may be lying there badly wounded but with life enough in him to do mischief after all.”
“Hadn’t we better wait till daylight?” whispered the doctor.
“It will mean so long, sir,” said the driver, rather gruffly. “I think we might risk it now, Mak,” he cried, and he added a few words in the black’s dialect. “He’s willing, gentlemen,” said the driver quietly. “Let’s all go on again.”
Then slowly and cautiously the little line advanced, till all at once the black stopped, holding his spear point low and the haft pressed into the ground, for there was a savage roar, and a huge lion, which looked golden, made a tremendous bound right out into the light.
Dean uttered a cry, and the brute couched, snarling fiercely, with the boy lying beneath the monster’s outstretched paws.
Chapter Fifteen.Who watched the Fire?“Back, Mark! Back, boy!” cried Sir James wildly. “No, no; don’t shoot,” he continued.The words were unnecessary, for the advancing men, stunned as it were by the catastrophe, stood fast, rifle to shoulder, not daring to draw trigger for fear of injuring the lion’s prisoner; but as if deaf to his father’s command, Mark continued to advance on one side, the black on the other, till they were close up to the great furious beast, whose eyes were glowing like the fire reflected in them, while its horrent mane stood up as if every hair were a separate wire of gold.The savage brute, as if contented with having captured its prey, couched there perfectly still, glaring at its approaching enemies as if waiting before making its next spring, and then, exactly together, from one side the black plunged the keen blade of his long spear into its shoulder, while from the other Mark, thrusting forward his rifle, drew trigger not a yard away, sending a bullet right into the monster’s skull.There was a hoarse yell, a sharp crack, the lion threw itself over backward, rolled over twice, slowly stretching itself out with extended paws tearing at the earth, and then lay still.“Dean!” cried Mark, dropping on one knee. “Oh, don’t say you are hurt!”The boy slowly rose to his knees, staring confusedly at his cousin, while the doctor dashed forward in company with Sir James to examine the boy’s injuries.“Dean, my boy,” cried Sir James, “pray, pray speak!” And he caught at the boy’s arms.Dean heard him and turned to look at him in a curious, half dazed way, but in spite of appeal after appeal he made no reply, but began to draw his handkerchief from his breast and to wipe his face, which was covered with blood and foam from the lion’s lips. Then giving a strange, half hysterical cry, he exclaimed, “Oh, uncle, it was horrid—horrid!”“But where were you hurt?” cried Mark excitedly, adding half angrily, “Why don’t you speak?”The boy looked at him wonderingly, as if too much confused to reply; then uttering a long-drawn sigh he said quietly, “Hurt? No, I don’t think so. I say, Mark, do go and fetch my boots.”“Oh, Dean, my boy,” cried Sir James, half angrily, “you made us think you were half killed!”“Did I, uncle?” said the boy quietly. “I couldn’t help it.”“Help it, no,” cried Sir James. “And you, Mark, how dared you do such a rash thing?”“I don’t know, father. I was horribly frightened all the time, but I felt I must; and,” he added quickly, “I say, I killed the lion—didn’t I, doctor?”“Yes, and we must have that skin. Ah, take care, Mak!”For the black was advancing towards the dangerous enemy, and he looked back at the doctor, laughed, showing his glistening teeth, and then seizing the broken haft of his spear, he planted one bare foot upon the creature’s shoulder, gave a tug or two, and drew it away, to stand looking dolefully at the two pieces of the weapon, which he held together as if to see whether it was possible to mend them again.“Now, doctor,” said Sir James, as the two boys stood together, whispering, “we must run no more of these horrible risks. It is quite likely that another of the furious beasts may be lying not far away. What do you say, Denham?”“Yes, sir; there’s another one of them, I expect—dead or alive—not far off, and perhaps we had better wait till daylight. Suppose we go right up to the fire, for nothing will follow us there.”“The fire!” said the doctor sharply. “How was it we were surprised like this? You should have made it up, Mark. It was your duty to do so at the end of your watch.”“I did, sir,” protested Mark, in a injured tone, “and told Peter Dance to keep it well up when I left him.”“Dance!—Ah, yes, Dance,” cried the doctor. “Where is he? Has anyone see him?”There was no reply, but eyes were turned in all directions, as if it were possible that he might be lying there.“Poor fellow!” said Sir James sadly. “Something must have happened to him. Here, someone, hail. He may be lying wounded, and looking to us for help.”“Cooey! Cooey! Cooey!” cried Bob Bacon, and then “Cooey!” again, while in dread of fresh calamity all listened for the reply that did not come.“Oh,” cried Mark at last, “a lion must have leaped upon him and pulled him down while he was going his rounds.”“Not likely, sir,” said Buck Denham, “with the ponies and all them bullocks about.”“Then where can he be?” cried Mark. “Don’t you think a lion may have leaped upon him when he was making up the fire?”“Might, sir,” said the man, “but lions are not likely to go near a fire. I want the day to break, so that we may follow the spoor. What I am hoping is that Peter may have been scared, and will turn up as soon as it is day and he feels safe.”“That’s what we all hope,” said Mark, speaking for the rest.“Yes, sir; but the worst of it is that when you want the sun to rise it takes such a long time before it will.”“Yes,” said the doctor, who had been silently listening for a few minutes; “let’s call the roll, and learn the extent of our losses.”“Oh, I can pretty well tell you that, sir,” said Denham: “the four ponies, and eight-and-forty of my draught oxen.”“No, no, man!” said the doctor. “Not so bad as that?”“Well, not quite, sir, for I hope we may pick up some of them here and there;” and he gave Mark, who was close at hand, a nudge with his elbow.As the man ceased speaking the doctor began his roll call, as he termed it: four men did not answer to their names.“This is bad—very bad,” said the doctor, in a pained voice. “I should be loth to think that Dance neglected his duty in keeping up the fire, and rendered us exposed to this attack of lions.”“Well, sir, it do seem rather hard to lay it on to a man who may have got it badly, but I am afraid he let that fire out, for first thing after I come, when I looked torst where it should have been all was black as black.”“Oh, tut, tut, tut!” ejaculated Sir James.“Then there’s that man Brown.”“He lay down to sleep close beside me, sir. I don’t feel much fear about him.”“And the Hottentot?”“Well, he was lying just behind Dunn Brown, and my black close to him. They’ll turn up, sir, soon as it is daylight. I’m most skeart about Keeper Dance. You see, he’s quite new to the country, sir.—Hah–h–h!” continued the man, drawing a deep breath. “That’s better! Here’s this morning coming, and welcome as the flowers of May, as the country folks say in old England. Here, Dan, my lad, we have had a bad night of it, but we shall want some breakfast all the same. What do you say to putting the billy on to boil?”“Ay, ay, mate!” cried the man addressed; and he made for the end of the nearest waggon to fetch a bucket and the great tin kettle, while the Illaka joined him on the instant.“Breakfast!” said Mark, with a look of disgust. “After such a night as this?”“Well, sir, it’s not to be sneezed at,” said the big driver good-humouredly, “and we shall work all the better at following up the spoor after a good mug or two of tea. Say, Mr Dean, sir, don’t you feel as if a drop would do you good?”“Yes; but what a horrid night!”“Oh, not so very bad, sir. You will soon get used to lions.”“But the poor bullocks?” said Mark.“Ah, that is a bit of a loss, sir, but it’s only nature. Bullocks is animals as was made to be eaten, and the lions are always on the look out for their share. Well, gentlemen, I am ready. It’s getting broad daylight now. We are all loaded up. What do you say to a start?”“No,” said the doctor; “no one shall stir until the sun is well up.”“All right, sir; you are boss; but I am getting a bit anxious to make a start. No bullocks, no more trekking, for a waggon ain’t much use stuck here under the trees.”Meanwhile Mak had been with Dan to fill the water vessels from the stream, an affluent of the now big river by which they were camped. Mak had helped to draw together the glowing embers, and had then gone off again unnoticed, till all at once he was heard to utter a peculiar cry and come rushing towards them at full speed, as if pursued by one of the savage beasts that had attacked them in the dark hours of the night.“Hi—hi—hi—hi!” he yelled, as he came swiftly threading his way amongst the trees, waving his hands, each armed with a half of the broken spear, and pointing with them now and then in the direction from which he had come.Rifles were held ready, and all stood waiting for the next onslaught, till the black rushed, wildly gesticulating, into their midst.
“Back, Mark! Back, boy!” cried Sir James wildly. “No, no; don’t shoot,” he continued.
The words were unnecessary, for the advancing men, stunned as it were by the catastrophe, stood fast, rifle to shoulder, not daring to draw trigger for fear of injuring the lion’s prisoner; but as if deaf to his father’s command, Mark continued to advance on one side, the black on the other, till they were close up to the great furious beast, whose eyes were glowing like the fire reflected in them, while its horrent mane stood up as if every hair were a separate wire of gold.
The savage brute, as if contented with having captured its prey, couched there perfectly still, glaring at its approaching enemies as if waiting before making its next spring, and then, exactly together, from one side the black plunged the keen blade of his long spear into its shoulder, while from the other Mark, thrusting forward his rifle, drew trigger not a yard away, sending a bullet right into the monster’s skull.
There was a hoarse yell, a sharp crack, the lion threw itself over backward, rolled over twice, slowly stretching itself out with extended paws tearing at the earth, and then lay still.
“Dean!” cried Mark, dropping on one knee. “Oh, don’t say you are hurt!”
The boy slowly rose to his knees, staring confusedly at his cousin, while the doctor dashed forward in company with Sir James to examine the boy’s injuries.
“Dean, my boy,” cried Sir James, “pray, pray speak!” And he caught at the boy’s arms.
Dean heard him and turned to look at him in a curious, half dazed way, but in spite of appeal after appeal he made no reply, but began to draw his handkerchief from his breast and to wipe his face, which was covered with blood and foam from the lion’s lips. Then giving a strange, half hysterical cry, he exclaimed, “Oh, uncle, it was horrid—horrid!”
“But where were you hurt?” cried Mark excitedly, adding half angrily, “Why don’t you speak?”
The boy looked at him wonderingly, as if too much confused to reply; then uttering a long-drawn sigh he said quietly, “Hurt? No, I don’t think so. I say, Mark, do go and fetch my boots.”
“Oh, Dean, my boy,” cried Sir James, half angrily, “you made us think you were half killed!”
“Did I, uncle?” said the boy quietly. “I couldn’t help it.”
“Help it, no,” cried Sir James. “And you, Mark, how dared you do such a rash thing?”
“I don’t know, father. I was horribly frightened all the time, but I felt I must; and,” he added quickly, “I say, I killed the lion—didn’t I, doctor?”
“Yes, and we must have that skin. Ah, take care, Mak!”
For the black was advancing towards the dangerous enemy, and he looked back at the doctor, laughed, showing his glistening teeth, and then seizing the broken haft of his spear, he planted one bare foot upon the creature’s shoulder, gave a tug or two, and drew it away, to stand looking dolefully at the two pieces of the weapon, which he held together as if to see whether it was possible to mend them again.
“Now, doctor,” said Sir James, as the two boys stood together, whispering, “we must run no more of these horrible risks. It is quite likely that another of the furious beasts may be lying not far away. What do you say, Denham?”
“Yes, sir; there’s another one of them, I expect—dead or alive—not far off, and perhaps we had better wait till daylight. Suppose we go right up to the fire, for nothing will follow us there.”
“The fire!” said the doctor sharply. “How was it we were surprised like this? You should have made it up, Mark. It was your duty to do so at the end of your watch.”
“I did, sir,” protested Mark, in a injured tone, “and told Peter Dance to keep it well up when I left him.”
“Dance!—Ah, yes, Dance,” cried the doctor. “Where is he? Has anyone see him?”
There was no reply, but eyes were turned in all directions, as if it were possible that he might be lying there.
“Poor fellow!” said Sir James sadly. “Something must have happened to him. Here, someone, hail. He may be lying wounded, and looking to us for help.”
“Cooey! Cooey! Cooey!” cried Bob Bacon, and then “Cooey!” again, while in dread of fresh calamity all listened for the reply that did not come.
“Oh,” cried Mark at last, “a lion must have leaped upon him and pulled him down while he was going his rounds.”
“Not likely, sir,” said Buck Denham, “with the ponies and all them bullocks about.”
“Then where can he be?” cried Mark. “Don’t you think a lion may have leaped upon him when he was making up the fire?”
“Might, sir,” said the man, “but lions are not likely to go near a fire. I want the day to break, so that we may follow the spoor. What I am hoping is that Peter may have been scared, and will turn up as soon as it is day and he feels safe.”
“That’s what we all hope,” said Mark, speaking for the rest.
“Yes, sir; but the worst of it is that when you want the sun to rise it takes such a long time before it will.”
“Yes,” said the doctor, who had been silently listening for a few minutes; “let’s call the roll, and learn the extent of our losses.”
“Oh, I can pretty well tell you that, sir,” said Denham: “the four ponies, and eight-and-forty of my draught oxen.”
“No, no, man!” said the doctor. “Not so bad as that?”
“Well, not quite, sir, for I hope we may pick up some of them here and there;” and he gave Mark, who was close at hand, a nudge with his elbow.
As the man ceased speaking the doctor began his roll call, as he termed it: four men did not answer to their names.
“This is bad—very bad,” said the doctor, in a pained voice. “I should be loth to think that Dance neglected his duty in keeping up the fire, and rendered us exposed to this attack of lions.”
“Well, sir, it do seem rather hard to lay it on to a man who may have got it badly, but I am afraid he let that fire out, for first thing after I come, when I looked torst where it should have been all was black as black.”
“Oh, tut, tut, tut!” ejaculated Sir James.
“Then there’s that man Brown.”
“He lay down to sleep close beside me, sir. I don’t feel much fear about him.”
“And the Hottentot?”
“Well, he was lying just behind Dunn Brown, and my black close to him. They’ll turn up, sir, soon as it is daylight. I’m most skeart about Keeper Dance. You see, he’s quite new to the country, sir.—Hah–h–h!” continued the man, drawing a deep breath. “That’s better! Here’s this morning coming, and welcome as the flowers of May, as the country folks say in old England. Here, Dan, my lad, we have had a bad night of it, but we shall want some breakfast all the same. What do you say to putting the billy on to boil?”
“Ay, ay, mate!” cried the man addressed; and he made for the end of the nearest waggon to fetch a bucket and the great tin kettle, while the Illaka joined him on the instant.
“Breakfast!” said Mark, with a look of disgust. “After such a night as this?”
“Well, sir, it’s not to be sneezed at,” said the big driver good-humouredly, “and we shall work all the better at following up the spoor after a good mug or two of tea. Say, Mr Dean, sir, don’t you feel as if a drop would do you good?”
“Yes; but what a horrid night!”
“Oh, not so very bad, sir. You will soon get used to lions.”
“But the poor bullocks?” said Mark.
“Ah, that is a bit of a loss, sir, but it’s only nature. Bullocks is animals as was made to be eaten, and the lions are always on the look out for their share. Well, gentlemen, I am ready. It’s getting broad daylight now. We are all loaded up. What do you say to a start?”
“No,” said the doctor; “no one shall stir until the sun is well up.”
“All right, sir; you are boss; but I am getting a bit anxious to make a start. No bullocks, no more trekking, for a waggon ain’t much use stuck here under the trees.”
Meanwhile Mak had been with Dan to fill the water vessels from the stream, an affluent of the now big river by which they were camped. Mak had helped to draw together the glowing embers, and had then gone off again unnoticed, till all at once he was heard to utter a peculiar cry and come rushing towards them at full speed, as if pursued by one of the savage beasts that had attacked them in the dark hours of the night.
“Hi—hi—hi—hi!” he yelled, as he came swiftly threading his way amongst the trees, waving his hands, each armed with a half of the broken spear, and pointing with them now and then in the direction from which he had come.
Rifles were held ready, and all stood waiting for the next onslaught, till the black rushed, wildly gesticulating, into their midst.
Chapter Sixteen.Anybody Killed?“Hello, mate! What’s wrong with you? Don’t say as you have found Dunn Brown?” cried Buck.“Pete, Pete, Peter!” said the black, in a high state of excitement, and he pointed with his broken spear in the opposite direction to that which the lions seemed to have taken.“Peter Dance!” said Sir James excitedly.“Oh, poor old Dance!” said Mark, in a low, hoarse voice.“Not dead! Not dead!” cried Dean.The black shook his head violently, pointed again with his spear, and then bending down began to slap his right leg.“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said Buck. “I thought he had come to say, gentleman, as he had found all that the lions had left of him.”“Well,” said the doctor, “what does he mean?”“Something wrong with his leg, sir, and I hope one of the great cats ain’t mauled him, because their bites are likely to go bad.”“Here, show us where he is,” cried Mark excitedly; and closely followed by Dean he caught the black by the arm and pointed.That was enough. Mak pointed and smiled, and the whole party followed him at the double, Buck Denham grunting now and then as he ran, and pointing out where the undoubted footprints of a lion were plainly marked where the ground was soft.It was quite a quarter of a mile from the waggons, and in the midst of some dense undergrowth, that their guide stopped short and stood pointing in a way that showed there was no danger in the approach, when Mark whispered, with his heart sinking, “Oh, Dean, I’m afraid he’s badly hurt!”But at the same moment Bob Bacon sprang in amongst the bushes, trampling them down, side by side with the black.“Where are you, mate?” cried Bacon, in a hoarse voice.“Here, lad, here!” And then with a deep groan the poor fellow of whom they were in search said reproachfully, “Thought you were going to leave me here to die.”“Not likely,” said Mark angrily. “Where are you hurt?”“That you, Mr Mark?” groaned the keeper. “Oh, all over, and I’m afraid my leg’s broke.”“Let me come,” said the doctor. “Knives here: cut back some of these thorns. Now then, try to bear it, my lad,” he continued, as he knelt beside the injured man, who was half invisible amongst the thick growth.“Oh!” groaned the keeper.“There, I will not hurt you more than I can help, but I must find where you are injured.”“Oh!” groaned the man again.“Come, your leg’s not broken. Yes, no doubt it hurts you, but it’s only a sprain. Keep up your spirits. You are not going to die this time.”“But I am hurt all over, sir. The bullocks trampled me: came all in a rush.”“But how came you here, mate?” asked Dan, pausing from his busy task of slashing away at the undergrowth with the big sheath knife which he used for skinning and cutting up.“I dunno, mate. It all seems like a dream.”“Like a dream?” said Mark, as he recalled his own awakening.“Yes, Mr Mark, sir. I was sitting on the watch there with my rifle across my knees, wondering how long it would be before daybreak, when all at once there was a big lion as had come up without a sound, looking straight at me.”“Could you see him, mate?” asked Buck.“Only his eyes.”“Why didn’t you fire?”“Fire? Oh, I was too much skeart. I’ll tell the truth about it. I was so frightened that I jumped up and ran, not knowing where I was going, for ever so far, and then I found by the trampling and bellowing that it was right into the way of the bullocks. Then before I knew where I was they knocked me down and the whole drove had gone over me, and when I got my senses again I crawled on here in the dark, and I suppose I swoonded away. That’s all I know. Am I very bad, doctor?”“A man can’t be trampled on by a drove of bullocks without being a good deal hurt,” said the doctor. “We must carry him somehow to the waggons, or better still bring one of them past here. What do you think, Denham? Do you think you could inspan some of the bullocks and drag one of the waggons here?”“Oh, yes, sir, I daresay we can get together enough for that. I’ll go back and see.”“Yes, do, my man,” said Sir James. “I will stay with the doctor, and with your help, Bacon, we will see what we can do.”“That’s right, sir,” said Buck Denham. “Perhaps you two young gents wouldn’t mind coming with me?”“I—” began Mark, and he stopped short, for the man gave him a peculiar look. “Yes, Buck, I’ll come,” he said, “and Dean will come too.”They started off, and the big driver said, loudly enough for those they were leaving to hear, “Thank you, gentlemen; I daresay you two will be able to help me a bit.”They started off together on the back trail, Buck Denham pointing out how they had trampled down the herbage, brushing off the dew and here and there breaking down twigs.“Ah!” he suddenly exclaimed. “Here’s poor old Peter’s trail. See that? He must have crawled along here. But I don’t see the spoor of any of my beasts—yes, I do,” he cried, a few yards farther. “They went along here in a drove. Then we had better turn off and follow them up. I don’t suppose they will have gone so very far. Say, Mr Mark, sir; do you know why I wanted you two to come with me?”“To help find the bullocks,” said Dean sharply.The man chuckled as he trotted on along the marks made by the animals.“No,” he said. “It’s all plain enough. I didn’t want any help. Why, you two could find them if you went far enough. I wanted to get summut off my mind.”“Something off your mind?” said Mark.“Yes, sir; I don’t like to speak out and get another fellow into trouble, but I felt as you two ought to know, and then you could talk it over between yourselves and settle whether you ought to tell the boss.”“Tell my father?” said Mark.“Yes, sir, or the doctor; and perhaps he will think the poor fellow’s got it bad enough without facing more trouble.”“What do you mean, Buck?” cried Dean.“What I was going to say,” said Mark.“Well, gen’lemen, only this; we oughtn’t to have had a surprise like that. It was Peter Dance’s watch, warn’t it?”“Yes,” cried Mark excitedly, as strange thoughts began to hurry through his brain.“Well, sir, he as good as said as he was sitting down with his shooter across his knees.”“Yes, yes,” cried Dean.“Well, sir, why didn’t he shoot?”“He was too much startled,” said Dean. “Poor fellow! I should have been quite as scared, with a lion creeping right up to me like that.”“I suppose so, sir. But I don’t quite believe that tale. I never ’eerd of a lion creeping up to look at a man who was sitting by a fire.”“No,” said Mark, in a whisper, as if to himself, and he trotted on the newly made trampled trail of the oxen.“Why should you doubt it?” said Dean sharply. “I have known Peter Dance ever since I was a quite a little fellow. He can be very disagreeable sometimes, but I never found him out in a lie.”“No, sir?” said Buck. “Well, I think you have found him out now.”“What do you mean?” cried Dean. “Here, Mark, why don’t you say something?”“Because I’m listening,” said his cousin drily. “Tell him what you think, Buck.”“Yes, sir; I will, sir. Well, I think—bah! I am sure—that there was no fire.”“What!” cried Dean angrily.“Gone to sleep, sir, and let it out.”“How do you know that?” cried Dean, indignant in his defence of his uncle’s old servant.“How do I know that, sir? How come the lions to crawl up and stampede my bullocks? Where was the fire when we all jumped up and began shooting? Why, there was only just enough ashes for old Mak to stir up and get to blaze again after he had thrown on some twigs.”“Oh, but—” began Dean hotly.“Hold your tongue, Dean,” said Mark. “Buck Denham’s right. He must be. I believe Peter did go to sleep, and woke up to find the fire out and the lions at the poor ponies and bullocks.”“Oh!” cried Dean excitedly. “Why, if he did that, neglecting his duty—going to sleep—”Just then he caught his cousin’s eyes looking at him in a peculiar way, and he stopped short.“Drop it,” said Mark, and he was going to add, “Dozey;” but he made his meaning look do instead.“There, gen’lemen,” said Buck, “I shan’t say no more about it, and I don’t believe the poor chap will ever do it again. There, I feel better now, Mr Mark. It’s off my mind; but I did feel wild. Why, some of us might have been mauled by the lions; and there’s my poor beasts: two of them’s killed for sartain, and lying yonder half eaten. Oh, and there’s the ponies!”“And we don’t know yet,” said Mark, “what may have happened to your two men and Brown.”“Oh, they will be all right, sir.”“I don’t know,” said Mark. “But there, poor Peter is badly hurt, and we will think about whether we should tell my father and the doctor, or have it out with him ourselves, when he’s better. I’ll make him confess.”“There, what did I tell you, gentlemen?” cried the big driver. “Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Ahoy!”“Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Ahoy! Ahoy!” came from not far away.“There’s two of them, gen’lemen.”“Where?” cried Dean eagerly.“Oh, not far off, sir. Didn’t you hear them shouting? There, you can hear now, surely. I heard them. There!” That to which he drew attention was the low bellowing of oxen being driven in their direction.“Why, they are coming this way,” cried Mark. “Yes, sir. That’s Hot Tot and the little black. They’ve found the bullocks.”“Some of them,” suggested Dean.“All on ’em, sir, as is left alive. They’d hang together when they bolted.—Hullo! Here’s Mak come after us;” and the boys turned eagerly, to find the big black had been following their trail, showing his teeth joyously as he pointed with his broken spear and uttered a low bellowing like a bullock.“Oh, I am glad,” cried Mark. “Now if we could only find the ponies—”Mak thrust two fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly, in perfect imitation of Dunn Brown, sending forth the call, which was instantly answered from the distance.“Hark at that!” cried Mark. “Why, that must be Dunn! Here, Mak.”The boy thrust his fingers between his lips, withdrew them, and cried, “Whistle! Whistle!”The black smiled and nodded, and sent forth the piercing call again.There was an answer from much nearer. “Oh, I wonder how many he has found!” In less than a minute the boy’s wondering ceased, for he caught sight of their tall thin follower running swiftly through the low brush, with all four ponies cantering after him, to pull up in a group as the man stopped short close to where the keeper and the two lads were waiting.“Not hurt, Dunn?” cried Mark joyously.“No,” said the man sadly. “Anybody killed?”“No. Don’t cry about it,” cried Mark.“But Peter Dance is hurt,” said Dean sharply.“Oh,” said the man, almost piteously, and then shook his head, looking from one to the other mournfully. “Let the fire out.”Big Buck Denham bent down to slap his thighs and burst into a roar of laughter.“Oh, don’t laugh, Buck,” cried Mark. “Think of your poor bullocks.”“Yes,” said Dunn, in no way discomposed by the man’s laughter; “two killed.”“Well, arn’t that enough to make a fellow laugh?” said Buck. “Only two pulled down. Might have been worse. You have seen them, then?”“Yes; they followed the ponies. Just came by.”“That’s all right, then. Come and help, Dunn. I want to inspan and take one of the waggons to fetch Peter Dance.”“Ah!” said Dunn, and he shook his head. “Let the fire out.”“Well, don’t go howling about it and get the poor fellow into trouble.”“No?” sighed Buck’s amateur foreloper.“No!” thundered Buck. “And there’s worse disasters at sea. Bad jobs turn out trumps sometimes, young gen’lemen. Two bullocks pulled down, and when we have got Peter Dance back to camp, gentlemen, I daresay you would like to come along of me to have a look at the dead lions. I say, Dunn, can you skin a lion?”“Yes,” said the man, and he pulled a long knife out of its sheath and tried its edge.“Yes, that will do. I’ll help you, mate. We will get little Dan at work to cut up the bullocks; but I’m rather scared about their skins.”“Then why cut the poor things up?” said Mark sharply.“Why cut them up, sir?” replied the big driver, staring at the boy wonderingly. “Best bits—beef.”
“Hello, mate! What’s wrong with you? Don’t say as you have found Dunn Brown?” cried Buck.
“Pete, Pete, Peter!” said the black, in a high state of excitement, and he pointed with his broken spear in the opposite direction to that which the lions seemed to have taken.
“Peter Dance!” said Sir James excitedly.
“Oh, poor old Dance!” said Mark, in a low, hoarse voice.
“Not dead! Not dead!” cried Dean.
The black shook his head violently, pointed again with his spear, and then bending down began to slap his right leg.
“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said Buck. “I thought he had come to say, gentleman, as he had found all that the lions had left of him.”
“Well,” said the doctor, “what does he mean?”
“Something wrong with his leg, sir, and I hope one of the great cats ain’t mauled him, because their bites are likely to go bad.”
“Here, show us where he is,” cried Mark excitedly; and closely followed by Dean he caught the black by the arm and pointed.
That was enough. Mak pointed and smiled, and the whole party followed him at the double, Buck Denham grunting now and then as he ran, and pointing out where the undoubted footprints of a lion were plainly marked where the ground was soft.
It was quite a quarter of a mile from the waggons, and in the midst of some dense undergrowth, that their guide stopped short and stood pointing in a way that showed there was no danger in the approach, when Mark whispered, with his heart sinking, “Oh, Dean, I’m afraid he’s badly hurt!”
But at the same moment Bob Bacon sprang in amongst the bushes, trampling them down, side by side with the black.
“Where are you, mate?” cried Bacon, in a hoarse voice.
“Here, lad, here!” And then with a deep groan the poor fellow of whom they were in search said reproachfully, “Thought you were going to leave me here to die.”
“Not likely,” said Mark angrily. “Where are you hurt?”
“That you, Mr Mark?” groaned the keeper. “Oh, all over, and I’m afraid my leg’s broke.”
“Let me come,” said the doctor. “Knives here: cut back some of these thorns. Now then, try to bear it, my lad,” he continued, as he knelt beside the injured man, who was half invisible amongst the thick growth.
“Oh!” groaned the keeper.
“There, I will not hurt you more than I can help, but I must find where you are injured.”
“Oh!” groaned the man again.
“Come, your leg’s not broken. Yes, no doubt it hurts you, but it’s only a sprain. Keep up your spirits. You are not going to die this time.”
“But I am hurt all over, sir. The bullocks trampled me: came all in a rush.”
“But how came you here, mate?” asked Dan, pausing from his busy task of slashing away at the undergrowth with the big sheath knife which he used for skinning and cutting up.
“I dunno, mate. It all seems like a dream.”
“Like a dream?” said Mark, as he recalled his own awakening.
“Yes, Mr Mark, sir. I was sitting on the watch there with my rifle across my knees, wondering how long it would be before daybreak, when all at once there was a big lion as had come up without a sound, looking straight at me.”
“Could you see him, mate?” asked Buck.
“Only his eyes.”
“Why didn’t you fire?”
“Fire? Oh, I was too much skeart. I’ll tell the truth about it. I was so frightened that I jumped up and ran, not knowing where I was going, for ever so far, and then I found by the trampling and bellowing that it was right into the way of the bullocks. Then before I knew where I was they knocked me down and the whole drove had gone over me, and when I got my senses again I crawled on here in the dark, and I suppose I swoonded away. That’s all I know. Am I very bad, doctor?”
“A man can’t be trampled on by a drove of bullocks without being a good deal hurt,” said the doctor. “We must carry him somehow to the waggons, or better still bring one of them past here. What do you think, Denham? Do you think you could inspan some of the bullocks and drag one of the waggons here?”
“Oh, yes, sir, I daresay we can get together enough for that. I’ll go back and see.”
“Yes, do, my man,” said Sir James. “I will stay with the doctor, and with your help, Bacon, we will see what we can do.”
“That’s right, sir,” said Buck Denham. “Perhaps you two young gents wouldn’t mind coming with me?”
“I—” began Mark, and he stopped short, for the man gave him a peculiar look. “Yes, Buck, I’ll come,” he said, “and Dean will come too.”
They started off, and the big driver said, loudly enough for those they were leaving to hear, “Thank you, gentlemen; I daresay you two will be able to help me a bit.”
They started off together on the back trail, Buck Denham pointing out how they had trampled down the herbage, brushing off the dew and here and there breaking down twigs.
“Ah!” he suddenly exclaimed. “Here’s poor old Peter’s trail. See that? He must have crawled along here. But I don’t see the spoor of any of my beasts—yes, I do,” he cried, a few yards farther. “They went along here in a drove. Then we had better turn off and follow them up. I don’t suppose they will have gone so very far. Say, Mr Mark, sir; do you know why I wanted you two to come with me?”
“To help find the bullocks,” said Dean sharply.
The man chuckled as he trotted on along the marks made by the animals.
“No,” he said. “It’s all plain enough. I didn’t want any help. Why, you two could find them if you went far enough. I wanted to get summut off my mind.”
“Something off your mind?” said Mark.
“Yes, sir; I don’t like to speak out and get another fellow into trouble, but I felt as you two ought to know, and then you could talk it over between yourselves and settle whether you ought to tell the boss.”
“Tell my father?” said Mark.
“Yes, sir, or the doctor; and perhaps he will think the poor fellow’s got it bad enough without facing more trouble.”
“What do you mean, Buck?” cried Dean.
“What I was going to say,” said Mark.
“Well, gen’lemen, only this; we oughtn’t to have had a surprise like that. It was Peter Dance’s watch, warn’t it?”
“Yes,” cried Mark excitedly, as strange thoughts began to hurry through his brain.
“Well, sir, he as good as said as he was sitting down with his shooter across his knees.”
“Yes, yes,” cried Dean.
“Well, sir, why didn’t he shoot?”
“He was too much startled,” said Dean. “Poor fellow! I should have been quite as scared, with a lion creeping right up to me like that.”
“I suppose so, sir. But I don’t quite believe that tale. I never ’eerd of a lion creeping up to look at a man who was sitting by a fire.”
“No,” said Mark, in a whisper, as if to himself, and he trotted on the newly made trampled trail of the oxen.
“Why should you doubt it?” said Dean sharply. “I have known Peter Dance ever since I was a quite a little fellow. He can be very disagreeable sometimes, but I never found him out in a lie.”
“No, sir?” said Buck. “Well, I think you have found him out now.”
“What do you mean?” cried Dean. “Here, Mark, why don’t you say something?”
“Because I’m listening,” said his cousin drily. “Tell him what you think, Buck.”
“Yes, sir; I will, sir. Well, I think—bah! I am sure—that there was no fire.”
“What!” cried Dean angrily.
“Gone to sleep, sir, and let it out.”
“How do you know that?” cried Dean, indignant in his defence of his uncle’s old servant.
“How do I know that, sir? How come the lions to crawl up and stampede my bullocks? Where was the fire when we all jumped up and began shooting? Why, there was only just enough ashes for old Mak to stir up and get to blaze again after he had thrown on some twigs.”
“Oh, but—” began Dean hotly.
“Hold your tongue, Dean,” said Mark. “Buck Denham’s right. He must be. I believe Peter did go to sleep, and woke up to find the fire out and the lions at the poor ponies and bullocks.”
“Oh!” cried Dean excitedly. “Why, if he did that, neglecting his duty—going to sleep—”
Just then he caught his cousin’s eyes looking at him in a peculiar way, and he stopped short.
“Drop it,” said Mark, and he was going to add, “Dozey;” but he made his meaning look do instead.
“There, gen’lemen,” said Buck, “I shan’t say no more about it, and I don’t believe the poor chap will ever do it again. There, I feel better now, Mr Mark. It’s off my mind; but I did feel wild. Why, some of us might have been mauled by the lions; and there’s my poor beasts: two of them’s killed for sartain, and lying yonder half eaten. Oh, and there’s the ponies!”
“And we don’t know yet,” said Mark, “what may have happened to your two men and Brown.”
“Oh, they will be all right, sir.”
“I don’t know,” said Mark. “But there, poor Peter is badly hurt, and we will think about whether we should tell my father and the doctor, or have it out with him ourselves, when he’s better. I’ll make him confess.”
“There, what did I tell you, gentlemen?” cried the big driver. “Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Ahoy!”
“Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Ahoy! Ahoy!” came from not far away.
“There’s two of them, gen’lemen.”
“Where?” cried Dean eagerly.
“Oh, not far off, sir. Didn’t you hear them shouting? There, you can hear now, surely. I heard them. There!” That to which he drew attention was the low bellowing of oxen being driven in their direction.
“Why, they are coming this way,” cried Mark. “Yes, sir. That’s Hot Tot and the little black. They’ve found the bullocks.”
“Some of them,” suggested Dean.
“All on ’em, sir, as is left alive. They’d hang together when they bolted.—Hullo! Here’s Mak come after us;” and the boys turned eagerly, to find the big black had been following their trail, showing his teeth joyously as he pointed with his broken spear and uttered a low bellowing like a bullock.
“Oh, I am glad,” cried Mark. “Now if we could only find the ponies—”
Mak thrust two fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly, in perfect imitation of Dunn Brown, sending forth the call, which was instantly answered from the distance.
“Hark at that!” cried Mark. “Why, that must be Dunn! Here, Mak.”
The boy thrust his fingers between his lips, withdrew them, and cried, “Whistle! Whistle!”
The black smiled and nodded, and sent forth the piercing call again.
There was an answer from much nearer. “Oh, I wonder how many he has found!” In less than a minute the boy’s wondering ceased, for he caught sight of their tall thin follower running swiftly through the low brush, with all four ponies cantering after him, to pull up in a group as the man stopped short close to where the keeper and the two lads were waiting.
“Not hurt, Dunn?” cried Mark joyously.
“No,” said the man sadly. “Anybody killed?”
“No. Don’t cry about it,” cried Mark.
“But Peter Dance is hurt,” said Dean sharply.
“Oh,” said the man, almost piteously, and then shook his head, looking from one to the other mournfully. “Let the fire out.”
Big Buck Denham bent down to slap his thighs and burst into a roar of laughter.
“Oh, don’t laugh, Buck,” cried Mark. “Think of your poor bullocks.”
“Yes,” said Dunn, in no way discomposed by the man’s laughter; “two killed.”
“Well, arn’t that enough to make a fellow laugh?” said Buck. “Only two pulled down. Might have been worse. You have seen them, then?”
“Yes; they followed the ponies. Just came by.”
“That’s all right, then. Come and help, Dunn. I want to inspan and take one of the waggons to fetch Peter Dance.”
“Ah!” said Dunn, and he shook his head. “Let the fire out.”
“Well, don’t go howling about it and get the poor fellow into trouble.”
“No?” sighed Buck’s amateur foreloper.
“No!” thundered Buck. “And there’s worse disasters at sea. Bad jobs turn out trumps sometimes, young gen’lemen. Two bullocks pulled down, and when we have got Peter Dance back to camp, gentlemen, I daresay you would like to come along of me to have a look at the dead lions. I say, Dunn, can you skin a lion?”
“Yes,” said the man, and he pulled a long knife out of its sheath and tried its edge.
“Yes, that will do. I’ll help you, mate. We will get little Dan at work to cut up the bullocks; but I’m rather scared about their skins.”
“Then why cut the poor things up?” said Mark sharply.
“Why cut them up, sir?” replied the big driver, staring at the boy wonderingly. “Best bits—beef.”
Chapter Seventeen.A Deed of Mercy.“Come, I call this good luck,” cried the big driver, as, following the black foreloper and with the Hottentot behind, the long line of bullocks two and two came placidly into sight, looking none the worse for the night attack, and in no wise troubled for the loss of two of their brethren.“Luck!” cried Mark. “It’s glorious! I shall be glad when father knows.”“Ah, we will soon let him know,” said Buck good-humouredly; “leastways, as soon as I can; but it takes longer to inspan than it does to fill one’s pipe. But poor old Peter won’t hurt much. He’s a bit sore, of course. A span of bullocks arn’t a nice thing to dance over a fellow, even if he is by natur’ like a bit of Indy-rubber. I say—now you listen.”For as the little Hottentot came into sight Buck hailed him with some incomprehensible question, the response to which was that he and the foreloper had climbed a big tree that was close to the first waggon.“There, what did I tell you?” said the big fellow, with a chuckle, as he interpreted the Hottentot’s reply. “My chaps know how to take care of theirselves when them great cats are on the way. Here, you have it out with old Dunn Brown.”“Yes,” cried Mark eagerly. “Here, Brown,” cried the boy, “what did you do when you heard the lions?”“Do?” said the man, rather piteously. “Cut ’em loose—ran—whistled.”“Bravo!” cried Dean, joining with his cousin in a merry laugh.“We all ran,” sighed their queer follower. “None scratched.”“Hurry on,” shouted Buck to his men; but the bullocks kept to their slow, deliberate trudge, munching away at the store of fresh green grass that had been collecting since their escape. “Perhaps you young gents,” continued Buck, “would like to mount two of the ponies and canter back with the news.”“No saddles or bridles,” said Mark.“Tchah! You don’t want saddles or bridles. Those little beggars will go which way you like with a touch of the hand; and I am not going to believe that you can’t get along barebacked. Not me!”“Oh, I daresay we could manage,” said Mark; “but our orders were to see the bullocks inspanned and go back with them.”“Can’t you trust me?” growled Buck.“Trust you! Of course!” cried Mark, laying his hand on the big fellow’s shoulder. “I’d trust you anywhere, but—”“Here, I know,” said the driver good-humouredly. “Good boy! Always obey orders.”But all the same the deliberate crawl of the bullocks made both the lads terribly impatient.“I wish you had got your whip, Buck,” said Dean. “Oh, I don’t know, sir. Let ’em alone. It’s their way. They are going willing enough, and they have had a nasty night. I never give them a touch up only when I see one lazy and won’t pull. Then it’s crick crack, and I let go at a fly on his back.”At last, though, the span belonging to the second waggon had taken their places, and Dunn Brown was at the front waiting for the sonorous “Trek!” which Buck Denham roared out, accompanied by a rifle-like report of his tremendous whip, when Dunn threw up his hands, stepped right before the team, and stopped them.“What game do you call that?” roared Buck, from where he was seated on the waggon chest.“Too—late,” sighed the white foreloper, and he drew out his scissors to begin his morning apology for a shave.“Can’t you see, Buck?” cried Mark. “Come along, Dean. Just think of that!”For, slowly trudging along, Bob Bacon appeared, bending low under his burden, giving his fellow-keeper a comfortable pick-a-back, having carried him all the way from where he had been found lying helpless, and apparently now not much the worse for his novel ride.“Bravo, Bob!” cried Mark, as he and his cousin ran up to meet them. “Why, you haven’t carried Peter all this way?”“Phew! Arn’t it hot, sir! Not carried him? Well, what do you call this?”“How are you, Peter?” asked Dean.“Very bad, sir.”“Oh, don’t say very,” cried Mark. “You will be better when you have had some breakfast.”“Hope so, sir,” said the man, with a groan; and he was carefully carried to the first waggon, in front of which Dan had already begun to busy himself raking the fire together and getting water on to boil, while as soon as the doctor had seen to his patient and had had him laid upon a blanket, he joined Sir James and the boys to look round while breakfast was being prepared, and examine the traces of the night’s encounter.There lay one huge lion, stretched out and stiffening fast, showing the blood-stained marks of its wound, and a short distance beyond were the torn and horribly mutilated bodies of two of the bullocks, not very far apart, one of them quite dead, the other gazing up appealingly in the faces of those who approached him, and ready to salute them with a piteous bellow.“Poor brute,” said the doctor, taking a revolver from his belt, and walking close up to the wounded bullock, he placed the muzzle right in the centre of its forehead as the poor beast raised its head feebly, and fired.“Oh!” ejaculated the boys, as if with one breath, and while the poor animal’s head was beginning to subside back to the blood-stained grass upon which it had lain the doctor fired again, and the mutilated animal sank back motionless with a deep, heavy sigh.“An act of mercy,” said the doctor quietly.“Yes,” said Sir James gravely. “It seems cruel, boys, but it would have been far worse to have left him there to be tortured by the flies and attacked by vultures and hyaenas.”By this time Buck Denham had come up, and while the two boys were still mentally hesitating as to the mercy of the act, which seemed terribly repellent, he said, “That’s right, boss. I just ketched sight of a couple of those owry birds coming along, and if it hadn’t been for the trees they would have been at work before now. I’d bet a pipe of tobacco that a pack of those laughing beauties the hyaenas are following the crows and will be hard at work as soon as we are on the trek.”Farther in the forest Mak soon found the body of the other lion, which had left its trail as it crawled away to die; but it was still warm, and had hardly had time to stiffen, looking still so life-like with its unglazed eyes that it was approached rather nervously, every rifle in the party being directed at the huge brute. But no trigger was drawn, for proof was given at once of its power to do mischief having lapsed by the action of the black, who leaped upon it with a shout and indulged himself with a sort of dance of triumph.“Here, you come off,” cried Buck. “Spoor. Spoor.”The black nodded, and stooping low he began to quarter the ground and point out footprint after footprint, till the driver gave it as his opinion that they had been attacked by quite a large party of the savage beasts.“You see, gen’lemen, there’s the big pads and some about half the size. I should say that there was a couple of families been scenting my bullocks. Seems to me like two lionesses and their half-grown cubs.”“But the two big lions?” said Mark eagerly.“Oh, I wasn’t counting them in, sir,” said Buck. “We have shot them and the she’s, and the young ’uns have got away, and like enough one or two of them has carried bullets with them.”“But do you think they are near?” asked Dean.“Maybe yes, sir; maybe no; but I should say it would be just as well to start as soon as we have had braxfas’ and get as far on as we can before night.”Just then there was a hail from the waggons in Dan’s familiar tones, to announce breakfast, and soon after its hasty despatch the blacks were at work skinning the lions, aided by Dunn Brown, while Buck Denham, with the assistance of Dan and Bob Bacon, had a busy time in securing some of the choicest portions of the bullock that had been shot, the doctor superintending.Later on, before they started, the Hottentot and the two blacks were allowed to cut off as many strips of the beef as they pleased, to hang on the first waggon for drying in the sun.
“Come, I call this good luck,” cried the big driver, as, following the black foreloper and with the Hottentot behind, the long line of bullocks two and two came placidly into sight, looking none the worse for the night attack, and in no wise troubled for the loss of two of their brethren.
“Luck!” cried Mark. “It’s glorious! I shall be glad when father knows.”
“Ah, we will soon let him know,” said Buck good-humouredly; “leastways, as soon as I can; but it takes longer to inspan than it does to fill one’s pipe. But poor old Peter won’t hurt much. He’s a bit sore, of course. A span of bullocks arn’t a nice thing to dance over a fellow, even if he is by natur’ like a bit of Indy-rubber. I say—now you listen.”
For as the little Hottentot came into sight Buck hailed him with some incomprehensible question, the response to which was that he and the foreloper had climbed a big tree that was close to the first waggon.
“There, what did I tell you?” said the big fellow, with a chuckle, as he interpreted the Hottentot’s reply. “My chaps know how to take care of theirselves when them great cats are on the way. Here, you have it out with old Dunn Brown.”
“Yes,” cried Mark eagerly. “Here, Brown,” cried the boy, “what did you do when you heard the lions?”
“Do?” said the man, rather piteously. “Cut ’em loose—ran—whistled.”
“Bravo!” cried Dean, joining with his cousin in a merry laugh.
“We all ran,” sighed their queer follower. “None scratched.”
“Hurry on,” shouted Buck to his men; but the bullocks kept to their slow, deliberate trudge, munching away at the store of fresh green grass that had been collecting since their escape. “Perhaps you young gents,” continued Buck, “would like to mount two of the ponies and canter back with the news.”
“No saddles or bridles,” said Mark.
“Tchah! You don’t want saddles or bridles. Those little beggars will go which way you like with a touch of the hand; and I am not going to believe that you can’t get along barebacked. Not me!”
“Oh, I daresay we could manage,” said Mark; “but our orders were to see the bullocks inspanned and go back with them.”
“Can’t you trust me?” growled Buck.
“Trust you! Of course!” cried Mark, laying his hand on the big fellow’s shoulder. “I’d trust you anywhere, but—”
“Here, I know,” said the driver good-humouredly. “Good boy! Always obey orders.”
But all the same the deliberate crawl of the bullocks made both the lads terribly impatient.
“I wish you had got your whip, Buck,” said Dean. “Oh, I don’t know, sir. Let ’em alone. It’s their way. They are going willing enough, and they have had a nasty night. I never give them a touch up only when I see one lazy and won’t pull. Then it’s crick crack, and I let go at a fly on his back.”
At last, though, the span belonging to the second waggon had taken their places, and Dunn Brown was at the front waiting for the sonorous “Trek!” which Buck Denham roared out, accompanied by a rifle-like report of his tremendous whip, when Dunn threw up his hands, stepped right before the team, and stopped them.
“What game do you call that?” roared Buck, from where he was seated on the waggon chest.
“Too—late,” sighed the white foreloper, and he drew out his scissors to begin his morning apology for a shave.
“Can’t you see, Buck?” cried Mark. “Come along, Dean. Just think of that!”
For, slowly trudging along, Bob Bacon appeared, bending low under his burden, giving his fellow-keeper a comfortable pick-a-back, having carried him all the way from where he had been found lying helpless, and apparently now not much the worse for his novel ride.
“Bravo, Bob!” cried Mark, as he and his cousin ran up to meet them. “Why, you haven’t carried Peter all this way?”
“Phew! Arn’t it hot, sir! Not carried him? Well, what do you call this?”
“How are you, Peter?” asked Dean.
“Very bad, sir.”
“Oh, don’t say very,” cried Mark. “You will be better when you have had some breakfast.”
“Hope so, sir,” said the man, with a groan; and he was carefully carried to the first waggon, in front of which Dan had already begun to busy himself raking the fire together and getting water on to boil, while as soon as the doctor had seen to his patient and had had him laid upon a blanket, he joined Sir James and the boys to look round while breakfast was being prepared, and examine the traces of the night’s encounter.
There lay one huge lion, stretched out and stiffening fast, showing the blood-stained marks of its wound, and a short distance beyond were the torn and horribly mutilated bodies of two of the bullocks, not very far apart, one of them quite dead, the other gazing up appealingly in the faces of those who approached him, and ready to salute them with a piteous bellow.
“Poor brute,” said the doctor, taking a revolver from his belt, and walking close up to the wounded bullock, he placed the muzzle right in the centre of its forehead as the poor beast raised its head feebly, and fired.
“Oh!” ejaculated the boys, as if with one breath, and while the poor animal’s head was beginning to subside back to the blood-stained grass upon which it had lain the doctor fired again, and the mutilated animal sank back motionless with a deep, heavy sigh.
“An act of mercy,” said the doctor quietly.
“Yes,” said Sir James gravely. “It seems cruel, boys, but it would have been far worse to have left him there to be tortured by the flies and attacked by vultures and hyaenas.”
By this time Buck Denham had come up, and while the two boys were still mentally hesitating as to the mercy of the act, which seemed terribly repellent, he said, “That’s right, boss. I just ketched sight of a couple of those owry birds coming along, and if it hadn’t been for the trees they would have been at work before now. I’d bet a pipe of tobacco that a pack of those laughing beauties the hyaenas are following the crows and will be hard at work as soon as we are on the trek.”
Farther in the forest Mak soon found the body of the other lion, which had left its trail as it crawled away to die; but it was still warm, and had hardly had time to stiffen, looking still so life-like with its unglazed eyes that it was approached rather nervously, every rifle in the party being directed at the huge brute. But no trigger was drawn, for proof was given at once of its power to do mischief having lapsed by the action of the black, who leaped upon it with a shout and indulged himself with a sort of dance of triumph.
“Here, you come off,” cried Buck. “Spoor. Spoor.”
The black nodded, and stooping low he began to quarter the ground and point out footprint after footprint, till the driver gave it as his opinion that they had been attacked by quite a large party of the savage beasts.
“You see, gen’lemen, there’s the big pads and some about half the size. I should say that there was a couple of families been scenting my bullocks. Seems to me like two lionesses and their half-grown cubs.”
“But the two big lions?” said Mark eagerly.
“Oh, I wasn’t counting them in, sir,” said Buck. “We have shot them and the she’s, and the young ’uns have got away, and like enough one or two of them has carried bullets with them.”
“But do you think they are near?” asked Dean.
“Maybe yes, sir; maybe no; but I should say it would be just as well to start as soon as we have had braxfas’ and get as far on as we can before night.”
Just then there was a hail from the waggons in Dan’s familiar tones, to announce breakfast, and soon after its hasty despatch the blacks were at work skinning the lions, aided by Dunn Brown, while Buck Denham, with the assistance of Dan and Bob Bacon, had a busy time in securing some of the choicest portions of the bullock that had been shot, the doctor superintending.
Later on, before they started, the Hottentot and the two blacks were allowed to cut off as many strips of the beef as they pleased, to hang on the first waggon for drying in the sun.