CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH--Rhinoceros and Lions"I'm jolly glad you're back, old man," said Ferrier, as John marched in one day at the head of his safari. "Began to think you were lost. How did you get on?""Splendidly," said John, cheerful after his quick journey home. "That is, pretty well; in fact" (as his memory and his sense of veracity awoke) "I had the rottenest time I ever had in my life. That sounds a bit of a muddle, I know, but I'll tell you all about it presently. How have things been going here?""Splendidly: that is, pretty well; and I'm glad you're back in time to prevent me from having the rottenest time I've ever had in my life. It's just short of that at present.""What! Have those blackguards been bothering you?""Worse! Lions!""Oh! Is that it? I don't know that they're worse than the natives, though.""Yes, they are, because it doesn't come to a fair stand-up fight. They're cowardly, skulking brutes, and so disgustingly clever."John laughed at Ferrier's aggrieved tone and look."Well, I'll get a bath and a feed, and then we'll talk it over," he said. "I hope our people have behaved well?""Oh yes! Lulu has been a mother to me--at a distance, of course; and Said Mohammed has been a delight three times a day. But go and get your bath; you'll stand here talking for ever."Half-an-hour later John, having changed into a suit of white drill, was sitting at table with Ferrier in the little dining-room of the bungalow. It struck him as rather bare and cold-looking after Mr. Gillespie's comfortable rooms, and he resolved, if things went well the second year, to buy a few bits of furniture."It wants a woman, you know," said Ferrier. "She'd rig up some curtains and make things look cheerful in no time. But you'll never get a woman to live among lions.""Verree true, sir--excuse the liberty," remarked Said Mohammed, as he handed the fish. "A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living.""That's how he goes on," said Ferrier, exploding when the Bengali had gone for the joint. "That's Shakespeare; next time it'll be Milton.""Did Shakespeare write that rubbish about the wild-fowl?""Why, that's the excellent Nick Bottom inMidsummer Night's Dream!""Never read it: we only didJulius CæsarandHenry V. But tell me what's happened.""Nothing, for three weeks, except rain. My word, didn't it come down! I'm sorry to say some of the sheep died until we thought of covering them up at night. But a week ago I heard a lion roaring in the night, and in the morning a calf was gone. Last night it was two sheep. The boma's not a bit of good to keep them out. Why don't you put up some wire fencing?""It's expensive, but I will by and by.""The lion got clear away the first time, but last night I was roused by the commotion among the animals, and managed to get a shot as he was slinking off: it was bright moonlight. I'm afraid I missed: my right arm isn't fit for much even yet. I wanted Bill to go and hunt him with me; but he wouldn't. I suppose he won't visit us again now you've come back: Coja said he's sure the lion's an afreet, which is devil, I suppose, and knows when the coast is clear.""I rather fancy he finds other game scarce in this rainy weather. It's much easier to break into the boma than to hunt game in the open, and I expect now that he's tasted blood again and got back his confidence we shall have some more trouble. We shall have to tackle him.""If you excuse me, sir," put in Said Mohammed, so respectfully that John could not resent the indiscretion, "I will tell you of the machinations of my prophetic soul my uncle. He has a small property in the Sunderbunds; choice site, excellent amenities, et cetera. There lurks the tiger, tiger burning bright. In my childhood innocence I resided with my avuncular relative, and he being a great shikari I saw some A1 sport. I should esteem it a privilege to be allowed to give you a leg up in hunting the abominable creature. The sahibs in general have derogatory opinion of us Bengalis; but I am a Socialist, gentlemen, in so far as believing in equality of chances, and I am cocksure that if only I get a look in I shall prove to demonstration that I am full of both grit and beans.""All right, khansaman, I'll give you a rifle and you shall come with us when we go after the beast. It may be rather exciting.""A regular beano," said Ferrier, sotto voce. "But I want to hear all about your droving, Halliday."John gave him a running account of his experiences, which were more amusing in retrospect than in actuality. They spent the rest of the day in going over the farm together. John was very well pleased with the signs of progress he saw everywhere. The sheep and cattle looked healthy; the second crops were in good condition; and the only failures among all the vegetables he had planted were the onions and artichokes, which had produced too much stalk and gave no indication of fruiting.That night a lion broke in and carried off a ram. John was too late to get a shot at the beast, and next day was too much occupied about the farm to go in search of it. But when Wasama came in with the sheep, somewhat earlier than usual, and reported that he had seen a black-maned lion with his mate on the edge of the bush, John determined to go out after them at once. It was the first time lions had been seen by day, and this sign of growing boldness convinced him that it was high time to attempt reprisals. He was accompanied by Ferrier and Said Mohammed with two of the Baganda, but by the time they reached the bush the lions had disappeared, leaving, however, a trace of their depredations in the freshly-picked bones of the stolen sheep. Roars were again heard at night, and John kept watch with Ferrier in anticipation of another visit; but as had happened before, no lions appeared, and they turned in towards morning very much disgusted.Next day John sent for Bill and asked him to lead them over the track of the lions. Meat was required for the larder, and he had determined to combine game-shooting with a lion hunt. News of his arrangements was carried to the village by one of the women working on the farm, and just as he was setting off, a dozen men arrived and begged to be allowed to join the party, their motive being probably a desire for excitement mingled with the hope of sharing the spoils. John's policy being to keep on good terms with them, he made no objection, and shortly after ten the party set off, consisting of the two white men with Bill, Said Mohammed (very proud in the possession of a rifle), and the three Baganda, the villagers following at a distance.Business coming before sport, Bill led the party along the river-bank where he expected to find the tracks of animals which had come down to drink. The proximity of the farm had had the effect of scaring antelopes and gazelles and the timider animals away from the neighbourhood. Already John had had to go farther afield for game than in the early days of the farm a year before. The Wanderobbo found his way among the dense vegetation by following old hippo paths, which crossed and recrossed in what seemed to the wasungu hopeless confusion. But he came after some miles to a region where there was an abrupt gap in the larger trees: a fairly wide and recent hippo path led through the tall grass on the crest of the river-bank; and the party began to be on the alert for game.Suddenly Bill halted and took a backward leap which nearly landed him in the arms of John."Faro! faro!" he cried excitedly, and on John asking where the rhinoceros was, he pointed a few yards ahead, where, almost hidden by the grass, lay a huge bull animal right across the path, and apparently asleep. The white men had brought only their double-barrelled rifles, which were not the best of weapons for shooting rhinoceros, and John, having no licence for such big game, though Ferrier had, ordered the natives to shout, hoping that this would scare the beast away. When it remained unmoved he went to the river-bank on the right, and breaking off some clods of earth, flung them at the slumberous creature, which completely blocked the way. But this proving ineffectual ("It's like shooting peas at a Dreadnought" said John) there was nothing for it but to try a rifle shot.Ferrier went forward, cocked his rifle and fired, aiming at the brain; but though he was ordinarily a dead shot, his right arm had not yet fully recovered, and he missed. The rhinoceros was now thoroughly awake; snorting angrily, he sprang to his feet with extraordinary nimbleness for so unwieldy a brute, and after a glance round came charging full at Ferrier. He fired his second barrel, and this time hit; but the shot had no effect except to make the beast more furious, and Ferrier turned and bolted for his life. All the other members of the party except John had turned tail and fled away shrieking at the first moment of the animal's rising. John, licence or no licence, let fly with both barrels in rapid succession; whether he hit or not he could not tell; certainly he failed to check the charging beast, which made with lowered head straight for Ferrier.All this had happened in a few seconds. Ferrier was running hard, but it was clear that the rhinoceros must soon overtake him, and John knew that one blow from those terrible horns would inflict a fatal gash. His hand shaking with nervous anxiety, he reloaded, but when he lifted the rifle to his shoulder he saw that he could not strike a fatal spot, the animal being directly between him and his friend. He ran after them, hoping for some chance to give him a shot. At this moment Ferrier became aware that the rhinoceros was almost within tossing distance, and leaving the path made a sudden swerve to the right, plunging into the long grass. The animal immediately turned to pursue him, for the first time presenting his flank to John. It was a ticklish moment. John knew that his friend's life probably depended on his coolness. He steadied himself, took aim at a spot behind the beast's shoulder, and fired. He heard the thud of the bullet, but for a moment feared it had not penetrated the tough hide. The rhinoceros made a half-turn as if to charge his new assailant, and John, glad that he had at least diverted the pursuit from Ferrier, was preparing to fire his second barrel when the great form staggered, recovered itself, made two tottering strides, and then fell over on its side.The air was rent with jubilant shouts as the natives emerged from their hiding-places in the grass and ran towards the prostrate beast. They started back in affright when it made a last convulsive effort to rise. John put it out of pain with another shot, and the natives surrounded it and immediately set about cutting it up."Thanks, old man," said Ferrier, coming up. "That's the second time.""I say, what's the penalty for shooting a rhino without a licence?" cried John, to cover his embarrassment."The same as if you shot an armed burglar breaking into your house: the thanks of every honest man for ridding the world of a villain."Said Mohammed, who had watched the incident from a safe distance, wondered that two young men should talk so strangely at a time when they ought to have been overcome with emotion. That is the English way. John had once seen M. Perrichon in the play fling his arms round his preserver's neck and weep with gratitude. "What sickening rot!" he had said. "Come and have an ice."While the natives were cutting up the rhinoceros, the others marched on. They had no need to shoot more for the larder; there was at least a ton of meat on the huge carcase, which would last for several days. It was now a question of finding the track of lions. John went ahead with Bill, Ferrier walking with Said Mohammed a few yards behind. The Bengali was talking, and his high-pitched voice carried well in the crisp, clear air. John heard him say--"In my humble opinion, sir, backed by inestimable experience in the Sunderbunds, it was deplorable error of judgment to bunk. My uncle, sir, on that never-to-be-forgotten occasion when I shed the light of my countenance on his tiger-hunt, he put the tiger to dumbfounder and flight--how, sir? By standing firm as a rock, 'without or life or motion,' as the poet Coleridge beautifully says, and staring with unflinching gaze into the opposing optics. Moreover and in addition, he recited with unfaltering lips the words of a charm he had learnt from some old cock of a jogi--you have no word for that in your lovely lingo, sir, but, without disrespect, I might say parson. Tableau! Exit tiger. Triumph of mind over matter. 'He held him with his glittering eye,' et cetera.""'The man recovered from the bite,The dog it was that died,'"quoted Ferrier."Oliver Goldsmith, sir," cried the Bengali delightedly, "who wrote like an angel but talked like poor Poll. I esteem it a glorious privilege to hold communion, even in humble capacity of cook and bottle-washer, with gentleman of literary taste and elegant extracts."The river-bank had descended until the path was almost level with the surface of the water, and passed several patches of reeds which Bill negotiated warily, saying that any one of them might harbour a lion. The white men followed him with growing excitement, and John confessed he felt rather nervous, not knowing but that a lion might at any moment spring up at their feet. He stole a glance at Said Mohammed, and exchanged a smile with Ferrier as he saw that the cook looked decidedly jumpy. Far in the rear came the villagers, eager not to miss the sport, and yet fearful to approach too near.All at once Bill halted and bent towards the ground. There were the unmistakable pug marks. Following the track with his eyes, but without moving from the spot, after a few moments he stretched out his spear towards a clump of trees about a hundred yards ahead, whispering, "Simba!" Neither John nor Ferrier could at first distinguish the lion, but presently two lionesses sprang out of the undergrowth, and made off with long low bounds across the plain. For a moment the white men watched their graceful movements with admiration, forgetting that these were the pests they had come out to slay. Then they set off in pursuit. But they had not advanced three paces when a huge black-maned lion showed his head among the bushes, snarling angrily. He stared at the strangers for a moment or two, then turned with another growl and trotted after his mates."Come along," said John excitedly. "We can't get a fair shot at him yet."They set off at a run, not troubling about Bill or Said Mohammed, who followed at a discreet distance. They gained on the beast, but after running some three hundred yards found themselves rather short of wind, owing to the fact that they were in rarefied air at least 6000 feet above sea-level."We shall spoil our aim if we get puffed," said Ferrier. "Better go slow."At this moment, however, the lion halted behind a tree, as if to check the pursuit of the lionesses, and stood watching the huntsmen, growling in a very threatening way. He seemed disinclined to budge, so John lay down on the path, and bringing his rifle to his shoulder, covered the huge head."Confound it, look how my hand wobbles," he whispered to Ferrier. "I can't fix the sight on him. Be ready to shoot if I miss or just sting him, for he'll fly at us like the wind."He steadied his arm and pulled the trigger. The fierce head instantly dropped out of sight, and the air was filled with such appalling roars that John hastily fired the second barrel, in the hope of finishing the beast before he could charge. He had to aim by guess-work, and fired half-a-dozen shots before the roaring ceased."Now the others," cried John, shouting to the Wanderobbo to keep his eye on the spot.He ran forward with Ferrier towards the lionesses, which had halted a quarter of a mile away, and could just be seen above the grass. At the men's approach they cantered off, and though the chase was kept up for nearly a mile, they always got to cover before the pursuers came within effective range, and finally disappeared among a large patch of reeds by the river, whence it was hopeless to attempt to dislodge them."Better luck next time," said John, as they retraced their steps. "You shall have first shot, Charley."Returning towards the spot where the lion had been shot, they found that Bill had deserted his post. He was standing in the middle of the path with Said Mohammed, a good hundred yards away from any bushes or trees. The natives were chattering at a little distance."Why didn't you do as I told you?" cried John, vexed at the possibility of having lost his quarry."Conscience made a coward of him, I fear, sir," said Said Mohammed."Well, go and see if you can find the lion. Get the natives to help. I don't know which tree it was we shot him at," he added to Ferrier, "but I'm not going back without his head."The party split up and made a systematic search, the natives beating the bush and long grass thoroughly with their spears. At last one of them shouted that he had found the simba, instantly running away from the spot at the top of his speed. There was no growling to be heard, however, so plucking up his courage he returned to the place with his comrades. When John reached them, he found the men grouped a yard or two from the lion's tail, jabbering in much excitement. The beast was stretched on his side, but John was surprised to see by the heaving of his flanks that he was not yet dead. Judging that the chatter of the men would have roused him if he had been able to rise, John went towards his head, but the moment the lion caught sight of him he uttered a terrible roar and to John's amazement sprang to his feet. Stepping hastily backward, John stumbled against Said Mohammed, who, believing like every one else that the beast was helpless, had become bold. The Bengali went down like a ninepin. John recovered his footing with an effort, and raising his rifle, fired at the lion at a range of four yards; but he was too hurried and agitated to take a careful aim, and the shot merely had the effect of throwing the infuriated animal on his haunches as he prepared to spring.All this had happened so quickly that Ferrier, who had been beating the bush in the opposite direction from John, had not yet come up. The sudden flight of the villagers apprised him that something was wrong, and as he hurried to the spot he was horrified at the sight that met his gaze. Man and beast seemed only a yard apart. He dared not shoot for fear of hitting John, and seeing that the shot had but momentarily checked the animal, he had given up his friend for lost when, as by a miracle, a sudden diversion occurred. The lion was leaping on John, who fired his second barrel with shaking hand and missed, when Said Mohammed scrambled to his feet and flew down the path, shrieking at the top of his voice. As if supposing that this white-clad yelling creature was his worst enemy, the lion changed the direction of his spring, almost grazing John as he fell, and bounded off after the Bengali, with such enormous leaps that escape seemed impossible. John hastily reloaded and fired, but he was trembling from head to foot; a mist seemed to rise before his eyes; and his shot went very wide of the mark. By the time Ferrier reached his side the chase seemed over; they thought that nothing could save the unlucky Indian. But when almost within the brute's clutches, Said Mohammed with the desperation of terror made a sudden jump to the right towards the river, as if intending to fling himself into it. The lion swerved after him, presenting his flank to the anxious spectators. Quick as thought Ferrier raised his rifle and, just as the beast was midway in his final spring, brought him down with a bullet through the heart.[image]"Ferrier raised his rifle, and brought him down with a bullet through the heart."John heaved a deep sigh of relief."Good man!" he said. "But what on earth is the fellow up to?"Next moment both he and Ferrier were shaking their sides with laughter, almost hysterical now that the tension was relaxed. The Bengali, too much overcome with terror to be aware of his safety, was scrambling up a thorn tree with an agility that would have done credit to a slimmer man. Up he went, frantically swinging himself from bough to bough. Half way up he lost his puggaree, snatched from his head by a long spike, and every stage of his ascent was marked by little bits of his white cotton dhoti left clinging to the branches. For some moments John was helpless with laughter, but at last he managed to shout to Said Mohammed to come down, for the beast was dead. The shout only made him climb the faster, nor did he stop until he was perched on the topmost branch, his white robe flapping in tatters about him. Nothing would induce him to budge until the lion's head had been cut off, to be carried back to the farm as a trophy. Then he descended, much more slowly than he had mounted, and with a piteous effort to regain his dignity that was too much for John and Ferrier, who turned their backs so that he should not see their amusement.These excitements were considered enough for one day, and the party set off for home, the natives carrying the lion's head and shouting a song of triumph. John said nothing to Said Mohammed until he thought his composure was restored. Then he said--"I owe you my life, khansaman. It was very plucky of you to draw the lion after you, and I shan't forget it.--Shut up!" he whispered to Ferrier, who emitted a sort of gurgle.A gratified smile stole across the Bengali's face."I am quite bucked, sir," he said. "Your words are sweeter than honey. When your honoured parent returns to this vale of woe, my heart will be in my mouth when I say to him: 'Lo! here is your progeny, whom I, Said Mohammed, failed B.A. of Calcutta University, saved from the jaws of the lion. If I had not been on the spot he would have been absolutely up a gum-tree.'"Ferrier guffawed."Why didn't you do as your uncle did in the Sunderbunds?" he asked presently, unable to resist the temptation of a sly dig at the failed B.A."The absence of one ingredient, sir, spoils the sauce. It was rotten nuisance, but I forgotin totothe words of the charm."
CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH--Rhinoceros and Lions"I'm jolly glad you're back, old man," said Ferrier, as John marched in one day at the head of his safari. "Began to think you were lost. How did you get on?""Splendidly," said John, cheerful after his quick journey home. "That is, pretty well; in fact" (as his memory and his sense of veracity awoke) "I had the rottenest time I ever had in my life. That sounds a bit of a muddle, I know, but I'll tell you all about it presently. How have things been going here?""Splendidly: that is, pretty well; and I'm glad you're back in time to prevent me from having the rottenest time I've ever had in my life. It's just short of that at present.""What! Have those blackguards been bothering you?""Worse! Lions!""Oh! Is that it? I don't know that they're worse than the natives, though.""Yes, they are, because it doesn't come to a fair stand-up fight. They're cowardly, skulking brutes, and so disgustingly clever."John laughed at Ferrier's aggrieved tone and look."Well, I'll get a bath and a feed, and then we'll talk it over," he said. "I hope our people have behaved well?""Oh yes! Lulu has been a mother to me--at a distance, of course; and Said Mohammed has been a delight three times a day. But go and get your bath; you'll stand here talking for ever."Half-an-hour later John, having changed into a suit of white drill, was sitting at table with Ferrier in the little dining-room of the bungalow. It struck him as rather bare and cold-looking after Mr. Gillespie's comfortable rooms, and he resolved, if things went well the second year, to buy a few bits of furniture."It wants a woman, you know," said Ferrier. "She'd rig up some curtains and make things look cheerful in no time. But you'll never get a woman to live among lions.""Verree true, sir--excuse the liberty," remarked Said Mohammed, as he handed the fish. "A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living.""That's how he goes on," said Ferrier, exploding when the Bengali had gone for the joint. "That's Shakespeare; next time it'll be Milton.""Did Shakespeare write that rubbish about the wild-fowl?""Why, that's the excellent Nick Bottom inMidsummer Night's Dream!""Never read it: we only didJulius CæsarandHenry V. But tell me what's happened.""Nothing, for three weeks, except rain. My word, didn't it come down! I'm sorry to say some of the sheep died until we thought of covering them up at night. But a week ago I heard a lion roaring in the night, and in the morning a calf was gone. Last night it was two sheep. The boma's not a bit of good to keep them out. Why don't you put up some wire fencing?""It's expensive, but I will by and by.""The lion got clear away the first time, but last night I was roused by the commotion among the animals, and managed to get a shot as he was slinking off: it was bright moonlight. I'm afraid I missed: my right arm isn't fit for much even yet. I wanted Bill to go and hunt him with me; but he wouldn't. I suppose he won't visit us again now you've come back: Coja said he's sure the lion's an afreet, which is devil, I suppose, and knows when the coast is clear.""I rather fancy he finds other game scarce in this rainy weather. It's much easier to break into the boma than to hunt game in the open, and I expect now that he's tasted blood again and got back his confidence we shall have some more trouble. We shall have to tackle him.""If you excuse me, sir," put in Said Mohammed, so respectfully that John could not resent the indiscretion, "I will tell you of the machinations of my prophetic soul my uncle. He has a small property in the Sunderbunds; choice site, excellent amenities, et cetera. There lurks the tiger, tiger burning bright. In my childhood innocence I resided with my avuncular relative, and he being a great shikari I saw some A1 sport. I should esteem it a privilege to be allowed to give you a leg up in hunting the abominable creature. The sahibs in general have derogatory opinion of us Bengalis; but I am a Socialist, gentlemen, in so far as believing in equality of chances, and I am cocksure that if only I get a look in I shall prove to demonstration that I am full of both grit and beans.""All right, khansaman, I'll give you a rifle and you shall come with us when we go after the beast. It may be rather exciting.""A regular beano," said Ferrier, sotto voce. "But I want to hear all about your droving, Halliday."John gave him a running account of his experiences, which were more amusing in retrospect than in actuality. They spent the rest of the day in going over the farm together. John was very well pleased with the signs of progress he saw everywhere. The sheep and cattle looked healthy; the second crops were in good condition; and the only failures among all the vegetables he had planted were the onions and artichokes, which had produced too much stalk and gave no indication of fruiting.That night a lion broke in and carried off a ram. John was too late to get a shot at the beast, and next day was too much occupied about the farm to go in search of it. But when Wasama came in with the sheep, somewhat earlier than usual, and reported that he had seen a black-maned lion with his mate on the edge of the bush, John determined to go out after them at once. It was the first time lions had been seen by day, and this sign of growing boldness convinced him that it was high time to attempt reprisals. He was accompanied by Ferrier and Said Mohammed with two of the Baganda, but by the time they reached the bush the lions had disappeared, leaving, however, a trace of their depredations in the freshly-picked bones of the stolen sheep. Roars were again heard at night, and John kept watch with Ferrier in anticipation of another visit; but as had happened before, no lions appeared, and they turned in towards morning very much disgusted.Next day John sent for Bill and asked him to lead them over the track of the lions. Meat was required for the larder, and he had determined to combine game-shooting with a lion hunt. News of his arrangements was carried to the village by one of the women working on the farm, and just as he was setting off, a dozen men arrived and begged to be allowed to join the party, their motive being probably a desire for excitement mingled with the hope of sharing the spoils. John's policy being to keep on good terms with them, he made no objection, and shortly after ten the party set off, consisting of the two white men with Bill, Said Mohammed (very proud in the possession of a rifle), and the three Baganda, the villagers following at a distance.Business coming before sport, Bill led the party along the river-bank where he expected to find the tracks of animals which had come down to drink. The proximity of the farm had had the effect of scaring antelopes and gazelles and the timider animals away from the neighbourhood. Already John had had to go farther afield for game than in the early days of the farm a year before. The Wanderobbo found his way among the dense vegetation by following old hippo paths, which crossed and recrossed in what seemed to the wasungu hopeless confusion. But he came after some miles to a region where there was an abrupt gap in the larger trees: a fairly wide and recent hippo path led through the tall grass on the crest of the river-bank; and the party began to be on the alert for game.Suddenly Bill halted and took a backward leap which nearly landed him in the arms of John."Faro! faro!" he cried excitedly, and on John asking where the rhinoceros was, he pointed a few yards ahead, where, almost hidden by the grass, lay a huge bull animal right across the path, and apparently asleep. The white men had brought only their double-barrelled rifles, which were not the best of weapons for shooting rhinoceros, and John, having no licence for such big game, though Ferrier had, ordered the natives to shout, hoping that this would scare the beast away. When it remained unmoved he went to the river-bank on the right, and breaking off some clods of earth, flung them at the slumberous creature, which completely blocked the way. But this proving ineffectual ("It's like shooting peas at a Dreadnought" said John) there was nothing for it but to try a rifle shot.Ferrier went forward, cocked his rifle and fired, aiming at the brain; but though he was ordinarily a dead shot, his right arm had not yet fully recovered, and he missed. The rhinoceros was now thoroughly awake; snorting angrily, he sprang to his feet with extraordinary nimbleness for so unwieldy a brute, and after a glance round came charging full at Ferrier. He fired his second barrel, and this time hit; but the shot had no effect except to make the beast more furious, and Ferrier turned and bolted for his life. All the other members of the party except John had turned tail and fled away shrieking at the first moment of the animal's rising. John, licence or no licence, let fly with both barrels in rapid succession; whether he hit or not he could not tell; certainly he failed to check the charging beast, which made with lowered head straight for Ferrier.All this had happened in a few seconds. Ferrier was running hard, but it was clear that the rhinoceros must soon overtake him, and John knew that one blow from those terrible horns would inflict a fatal gash. His hand shaking with nervous anxiety, he reloaded, but when he lifted the rifle to his shoulder he saw that he could not strike a fatal spot, the animal being directly between him and his friend. He ran after them, hoping for some chance to give him a shot. At this moment Ferrier became aware that the rhinoceros was almost within tossing distance, and leaving the path made a sudden swerve to the right, plunging into the long grass. The animal immediately turned to pursue him, for the first time presenting his flank to John. It was a ticklish moment. John knew that his friend's life probably depended on his coolness. He steadied himself, took aim at a spot behind the beast's shoulder, and fired. He heard the thud of the bullet, but for a moment feared it had not penetrated the tough hide. The rhinoceros made a half-turn as if to charge his new assailant, and John, glad that he had at least diverted the pursuit from Ferrier, was preparing to fire his second barrel when the great form staggered, recovered itself, made two tottering strides, and then fell over on its side.The air was rent with jubilant shouts as the natives emerged from their hiding-places in the grass and ran towards the prostrate beast. They started back in affright when it made a last convulsive effort to rise. John put it out of pain with another shot, and the natives surrounded it and immediately set about cutting it up."Thanks, old man," said Ferrier, coming up. "That's the second time.""I say, what's the penalty for shooting a rhino without a licence?" cried John, to cover his embarrassment."The same as if you shot an armed burglar breaking into your house: the thanks of every honest man for ridding the world of a villain."Said Mohammed, who had watched the incident from a safe distance, wondered that two young men should talk so strangely at a time when they ought to have been overcome with emotion. That is the English way. John had once seen M. Perrichon in the play fling his arms round his preserver's neck and weep with gratitude. "What sickening rot!" he had said. "Come and have an ice."While the natives were cutting up the rhinoceros, the others marched on. They had no need to shoot more for the larder; there was at least a ton of meat on the huge carcase, which would last for several days. It was now a question of finding the track of lions. John went ahead with Bill, Ferrier walking with Said Mohammed a few yards behind. The Bengali was talking, and his high-pitched voice carried well in the crisp, clear air. John heard him say--"In my humble opinion, sir, backed by inestimable experience in the Sunderbunds, it was deplorable error of judgment to bunk. My uncle, sir, on that never-to-be-forgotten occasion when I shed the light of my countenance on his tiger-hunt, he put the tiger to dumbfounder and flight--how, sir? By standing firm as a rock, 'without or life or motion,' as the poet Coleridge beautifully says, and staring with unflinching gaze into the opposing optics. Moreover and in addition, he recited with unfaltering lips the words of a charm he had learnt from some old cock of a jogi--you have no word for that in your lovely lingo, sir, but, without disrespect, I might say parson. Tableau! Exit tiger. Triumph of mind over matter. 'He held him with his glittering eye,' et cetera.""'The man recovered from the bite,The dog it was that died,'"quoted Ferrier."Oliver Goldsmith, sir," cried the Bengali delightedly, "who wrote like an angel but talked like poor Poll. I esteem it a glorious privilege to hold communion, even in humble capacity of cook and bottle-washer, with gentleman of literary taste and elegant extracts."The river-bank had descended until the path was almost level with the surface of the water, and passed several patches of reeds which Bill negotiated warily, saying that any one of them might harbour a lion. The white men followed him with growing excitement, and John confessed he felt rather nervous, not knowing but that a lion might at any moment spring up at their feet. He stole a glance at Said Mohammed, and exchanged a smile with Ferrier as he saw that the cook looked decidedly jumpy. Far in the rear came the villagers, eager not to miss the sport, and yet fearful to approach too near.All at once Bill halted and bent towards the ground. There were the unmistakable pug marks. Following the track with his eyes, but without moving from the spot, after a few moments he stretched out his spear towards a clump of trees about a hundred yards ahead, whispering, "Simba!" Neither John nor Ferrier could at first distinguish the lion, but presently two lionesses sprang out of the undergrowth, and made off with long low bounds across the plain. For a moment the white men watched their graceful movements with admiration, forgetting that these were the pests they had come out to slay. Then they set off in pursuit. But they had not advanced three paces when a huge black-maned lion showed his head among the bushes, snarling angrily. He stared at the strangers for a moment or two, then turned with another growl and trotted after his mates."Come along," said John excitedly. "We can't get a fair shot at him yet."They set off at a run, not troubling about Bill or Said Mohammed, who followed at a discreet distance. They gained on the beast, but after running some three hundred yards found themselves rather short of wind, owing to the fact that they were in rarefied air at least 6000 feet above sea-level."We shall spoil our aim if we get puffed," said Ferrier. "Better go slow."At this moment, however, the lion halted behind a tree, as if to check the pursuit of the lionesses, and stood watching the huntsmen, growling in a very threatening way. He seemed disinclined to budge, so John lay down on the path, and bringing his rifle to his shoulder, covered the huge head."Confound it, look how my hand wobbles," he whispered to Ferrier. "I can't fix the sight on him. Be ready to shoot if I miss or just sting him, for he'll fly at us like the wind."He steadied his arm and pulled the trigger. The fierce head instantly dropped out of sight, and the air was filled with such appalling roars that John hastily fired the second barrel, in the hope of finishing the beast before he could charge. He had to aim by guess-work, and fired half-a-dozen shots before the roaring ceased."Now the others," cried John, shouting to the Wanderobbo to keep his eye on the spot.He ran forward with Ferrier towards the lionesses, which had halted a quarter of a mile away, and could just be seen above the grass. At the men's approach they cantered off, and though the chase was kept up for nearly a mile, they always got to cover before the pursuers came within effective range, and finally disappeared among a large patch of reeds by the river, whence it was hopeless to attempt to dislodge them."Better luck next time," said John, as they retraced their steps. "You shall have first shot, Charley."Returning towards the spot where the lion had been shot, they found that Bill had deserted his post. He was standing in the middle of the path with Said Mohammed, a good hundred yards away from any bushes or trees. The natives were chattering at a little distance."Why didn't you do as I told you?" cried John, vexed at the possibility of having lost his quarry."Conscience made a coward of him, I fear, sir," said Said Mohammed."Well, go and see if you can find the lion. Get the natives to help. I don't know which tree it was we shot him at," he added to Ferrier, "but I'm not going back without his head."The party split up and made a systematic search, the natives beating the bush and long grass thoroughly with their spears. At last one of them shouted that he had found the simba, instantly running away from the spot at the top of his speed. There was no growling to be heard, however, so plucking up his courage he returned to the place with his comrades. When John reached them, he found the men grouped a yard or two from the lion's tail, jabbering in much excitement. The beast was stretched on his side, but John was surprised to see by the heaving of his flanks that he was not yet dead. Judging that the chatter of the men would have roused him if he had been able to rise, John went towards his head, but the moment the lion caught sight of him he uttered a terrible roar and to John's amazement sprang to his feet. Stepping hastily backward, John stumbled against Said Mohammed, who, believing like every one else that the beast was helpless, had become bold. The Bengali went down like a ninepin. John recovered his footing with an effort, and raising his rifle, fired at the lion at a range of four yards; but he was too hurried and agitated to take a careful aim, and the shot merely had the effect of throwing the infuriated animal on his haunches as he prepared to spring.All this had happened so quickly that Ferrier, who had been beating the bush in the opposite direction from John, had not yet come up. The sudden flight of the villagers apprised him that something was wrong, and as he hurried to the spot he was horrified at the sight that met his gaze. Man and beast seemed only a yard apart. He dared not shoot for fear of hitting John, and seeing that the shot had but momentarily checked the animal, he had given up his friend for lost when, as by a miracle, a sudden diversion occurred. The lion was leaping on John, who fired his second barrel with shaking hand and missed, when Said Mohammed scrambled to his feet and flew down the path, shrieking at the top of his voice. As if supposing that this white-clad yelling creature was his worst enemy, the lion changed the direction of his spring, almost grazing John as he fell, and bounded off after the Bengali, with such enormous leaps that escape seemed impossible. John hastily reloaded and fired, but he was trembling from head to foot; a mist seemed to rise before his eyes; and his shot went very wide of the mark. By the time Ferrier reached his side the chase seemed over; they thought that nothing could save the unlucky Indian. But when almost within the brute's clutches, Said Mohammed with the desperation of terror made a sudden jump to the right towards the river, as if intending to fling himself into it. The lion swerved after him, presenting his flank to the anxious spectators. Quick as thought Ferrier raised his rifle and, just as the beast was midway in his final spring, brought him down with a bullet through the heart.[image]"Ferrier raised his rifle, and brought him down with a bullet through the heart."John heaved a deep sigh of relief."Good man!" he said. "But what on earth is the fellow up to?"Next moment both he and Ferrier were shaking their sides with laughter, almost hysterical now that the tension was relaxed. The Bengali, too much overcome with terror to be aware of his safety, was scrambling up a thorn tree with an agility that would have done credit to a slimmer man. Up he went, frantically swinging himself from bough to bough. Half way up he lost his puggaree, snatched from his head by a long spike, and every stage of his ascent was marked by little bits of his white cotton dhoti left clinging to the branches. For some moments John was helpless with laughter, but at last he managed to shout to Said Mohammed to come down, for the beast was dead. The shout only made him climb the faster, nor did he stop until he was perched on the topmost branch, his white robe flapping in tatters about him. Nothing would induce him to budge until the lion's head had been cut off, to be carried back to the farm as a trophy. Then he descended, much more slowly than he had mounted, and with a piteous effort to regain his dignity that was too much for John and Ferrier, who turned their backs so that he should not see their amusement.These excitements were considered enough for one day, and the party set off for home, the natives carrying the lion's head and shouting a song of triumph. John said nothing to Said Mohammed until he thought his composure was restored. Then he said--"I owe you my life, khansaman. It was very plucky of you to draw the lion after you, and I shan't forget it.--Shut up!" he whispered to Ferrier, who emitted a sort of gurgle.A gratified smile stole across the Bengali's face."I am quite bucked, sir," he said. "Your words are sweeter than honey. When your honoured parent returns to this vale of woe, my heart will be in my mouth when I say to him: 'Lo! here is your progeny, whom I, Said Mohammed, failed B.A. of Calcutta University, saved from the jaws of the lion. If I had not been on the spot he would have been absolutely up a gum-tree.'"Ferrier guffawed."Why didn't you do as your uncle did in the Sunderbunds?" he asked presently, unable to resist the temptation of a sly dig at the failed B.A."The absence of one ingredient, sir, spoils the sauce. It was rotten nuisance, but I forgotin totothe words of the charm."
"I'm jolly glad you're back, old man," said Ferrier, as John marched in one day at the head of his safari. "Began to think you were lost. How did you get on?"
"Splendidly," said John, cheerful after his quick journey home. "That is, pretty well; in fact" (as his memory and his sense of veracity awoke) "I had the rottenest time I ever had in my life. That sounds a bit of a muddle, I know, but I'll tell you all about it presently. How have things been going here?"
"Splendidly: that is, pretty well; and I'm glad you're back in time to prevent me from having the rottenest time I've ever had in my life. It's just short of that at present."
"What! Have those blackguards been bothering you?"
"Worse! Lions!"
"Oh! Is that it? I don't know that they're worse than the natives, though."
"Yes, they are, because it doesn't come to a fair stand-up fight. They're cowardly, skulking brutes, and so disgustingly clever."
John laughed at Ferrier's aggrieved tone and look.
"Well, I'll get a bath and a feed, and then we'll talk it over," he said. "I hope our people have behaved well?"
"Oh yes! Lulu has been a mother to me--at a distance, of course; and Said Mohammed has been a delight three times a day. But go and get your bath; you'll stand here talking for ever."
Half-an-hour later John, having changed into a suit of white drill, was sitting at table with Ferrier in the little dining-room of the bungalow. It struck him as rather bare and cold-looking after Mr. Gillespie's comfortable rooms, and he resolved, if things went well the second year, to buy a few bits of furniture.
"It wants a woman, you know," said Ferrier. "She'd rig up some curtains and make things look cheerful in no time. But you'll never get a woman to live among lions."
"Verree true, sir--excuse the liberty," remarked Said Mohammed, as he handed the fish. "A lion among ladies is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living."
"That's how he goes on," said Ferrier, exploding when the Bengali had gone for the joint. "That's Shakespeare; next time it'll be Milton."
"Did Shakespeare write that rubbish about the wild-fowl?"
"Why, that's the excellent Nick Bottom inMidsummer Night's Dream!"
"Never read it: we only didJulius CæsarandHenry V. But tell me what's happened."
"Nothing, for three weeks, except rain. My word, didn't it come down! I'm sorry to say some of the sheep died until we thought of covering them up at night. But a week ago I heard a lion roaring in the night, and in the morning a calf was gone. Last night it was two sheep. The boma's not a bit of good to keep them out. Why don't you put up some wire fencing?"
"It's expensive, but I will by and by."
"The lion got clear away the first time, but last night I was roused by the commotion among the animals, and managed to get a shot as he was slinking off: it was bright moonlight. I'm afraid I missed: my right arm isn't fit for much even yet. I wanted Bill to go and hunt him with me; but he wouldn't. I suppose he won't visit us again now you've come back: Coja said he's sure the lion's an afreet, which is devil, I suppose, and knows when the coast is clear."
"I rather fancy he finds other game scarce in this rainy weather. It's much easier to break into the boma than to hunt game in the open, and I expect now that he's tasted blood again and got back his confidence we shall have some more trouble. We shall have to tackle him."
"If you excuse me, sir," put in Said Mohammed, so respectfully that John could not resent the indiscretion, "I will tell you of the machinations of my prophetic soul my uncle. He has a small property in the Sunderbunds; choice site, excellent amenities, et cetera. There lurks the tiger, tiger burning bright. In my childhood innocence I resided with my avuncular relative, and he being a great shikari I saw some A1 sport. I should esteem it a privilege to be allowed to give you a leg up in hunting the abominable creature. The sahibs in general have derogatory opinion of us Bengalis; but I am a Socialist, gentlemen, in so far as believing in equality of chances, and I am cocksure that if only I get a look in I shall prove to demonstration that I am full of both grit and beans."
"All right, khansaman, I'll give you a rifle and you shall come with us when we go after the beast. It may be rather exciting."
"A regular beano," said Ferrier, sotto voce. "But I want to hear all about your droving, Halliday."
John gave him a running account of his experiences, which were more amusing in retrospect than in actuality. They spent the rest of the day in going over the farm together. John was very well pleased with the signs of progress he saw everywhere. The sheep and cattle looked healthy; the second crops were in good condition; and the only failures among all the vegetables he had planted were the onions and artichokes, which had produced too much stalk and gave no indication of fruiting.
That night a lion broke in and carried off a ram. John was too late to get a shot at the beast, and next day was too much occupied about the farm to go in search of it. But when Wasama came in with the sheep, somewhat earlier than usual, and reported that he had seen a black-maned lion with his mate on the edge of the bush, John determined to go out after them at once. It was the first time lions had been seen by day, and this sign of growing boldness convinced him that it was high time to attempt reprisals. He was accompanied by Ferrier and Said Mohammed with two of the Baganda, but by the time they reached the bush the lions had disappeared, leaving, however, a trace of their depredations in the freshly-picked bones of the stolen sheep. Roars were again heard at night, and John kept watch with Ferrier in anticipation of another visit; but as had happened before, no lions appeared, and they turned in towards morning very much disgusted.
Next day John sent for Bill and asked him to lead them over the track of the lions. Meat was required for the larder, and he had determined to combine game-shooting with a lion hunt. News of his arrangements was carried to the village by one of the women working on the farm, and just as he was setting off, a dozen men arrived and begged to be allowed to join the party, their motive being probably a desire for excitement mingled with the hope of sharing the spoils. John's policy being to keep on good terms with them, he made no objection, and shortly after ten the party set off, consisting of the two white men with Bill, Said Mohammed (very proud in the possession of a rifle), and the three Baganda, the villagers following at a distance.
Business coming before sport, Bill led the party along the river-bank where he expected to find the tracks of animals which had come down to drink. The proximity of the farm had had the effect of scaring antelopes and gazelles and the timider animals away from the neighbourhood. Already John had had to go farther afield for game than in the early days of the farm a year before. The Wanderobbo found his way among the dense vegetation by following old hippo paths, which crossed and recrossed in what seemed to the wasungu hopeless confusion. But he came after some miles to a region where there was an abrupt gap in the larger trees: a fairly wide and recent hippo path led through the tall grass on the crest of the river-bank; and the party began to be on the alert for game.
Suddenly Bill halted and took a backward leap which nearly landed him in the arms of John.
"Faro! faro!" he cried excitedly, and on John asking where the rhinoceros was, he pointed a few yards ahead, where, almost hidden by the grass, lay a huge bull animal right across the path, and apparently asleep. The white men had brought only their double-barrelled rifles, which were not the best of weapons for shooting rhinoceros, and John, having no licence for such big game, though Ferrier had, ordered the natives to shout, hoping that this would scare the beast away. When it remained unmoved he went to the river-bank on the right, and breaking off some clods of earth, flung them at the slumberous creature, which completely blocked the way. But this proving ineffectual ("It's like shooting peas at a Dreadnought" said John) there was nothing for it but to try a rifle shot.
Ferrier went forward, cocked his rifle and fired, aiming at the brain; but though he was ordinarily a dead shot, his right arm had not yet fully recovered, and he missed. The rhinoceros was now thoroughly awake; snorting angrily, he sprang to his feet with extraordinary nimbleness for so unwieldy a brute, and after a glance round came charging full at Ferrier. He fired his second barrel, and this time hit; but the shot had no effect except to make the beast more furious, and Ferrier turned and bolted for his life. All the other members of the party except John had turned tail and fled away shrieking at the first moment of the animal's rising. John, licence or no licence, let fly with both barrels in rapid succession; whether he hit or not he could not tell; certainly he failed to check the charging beast, which made with lowered head straight for Ferrier.
All this had happened in a few seconds. Ferrier was running hard, but it was clear that the rhinoceros must soon overtake him, and John knew that one blow from those terrible horns would inflict a fatal gash. His hand shaking with nervous anxiety, he reloaded, but when he lifted the rifle to his shoulder he saw that he could not strike a fatal spot, the animal being directly between him and his friend. He ran after them, hoping for some chance to give him a shot. At this moment Ferrier became aware that the rhinoceros was almost within tossing distance, and leaving the path made a sudden swerve to the right, plunging into the long grass. The animal immediately turned to pursue him, for the first time presenting his flank to John. It was a ticklish moment. John knew that his friend's life probably depended on his coolness. He steadied himself, took aim at a spot behind the beast's shoulder, and fired. He heard the thud of the bullet, but for a moment feared it had not penetrated the tough hide. The rhinoceros made a half-turn as if to charge his new assailant, and John, glad that he had at least diverted the pursuit from Ferrier, was preparing to fire his second barrel when the great form staggered, recovered itself, made two tottering strides, and then fell over on its side.
The air was rent with jubilant shouts as the natives emerged from their hiding-places in the grass and ran towards the prostrate beast. They started back in affright when it made a last convulsive effort to rise. John put it out of pain with another shot, and the natives surrounded it and immediately set about cutting it up.
"Thanks, old man," said Ferrier, coming up. "That's the second time."
"I say, what's the penalty for shooting a rhino without a licence?" cried John, to cover his embarrassment.
"The same as if you shot an armed burglar breaking into your house: the thanks of every honest man for ridding the world of a villain."
Said Mohammed, who had watched the incident from a safe distance, wondered that two young men should talk so strangely at a time when they ought to have been overcome with emotion. That is the English way. John had once seen M. Perrichon in the play fling his arms round his preserver's neck and weep with gratitude. "What sickening rot!" he had said. "Come and have an ice."
While the natives were cutting up the rhinoceros, the others marched on. They had no need to shoot more for the larder; there was at least a ton of meat on the huge carcase, which would last for several days. It was now a question of finding the track of lions. John went ahead with Bill, Ferrier walking with Said Mohammed a few yards behind. The Bengali was talking, and his high-pitched voice carried well in the crisp, clear air. John heard him say--
"In my humble opinion, sir, backed by inestimable experience in the Sunderbunds, it was deplorable error of judgment to bunk. My uncle, sir, on that never-to-be-forgotten occasion when I shed the light of my countenance on his tiger-hunt, he put the tiger to dumbfounder and flight--how, sir? By standing firm as a rock, 'without or life or motion,' as the poet Coleridge beautifully says, and staring with unflinching gaze into the opposing optics. Moreover and in addition, he recited with unfaltering lips the words of a charm he had learnt from some old cock of a jogi--you have no word for that in your lovely lingo, sir, but, without disrespect, I might say parson. Tableau! Exit tiger. Triumph of mind over matter. 'He held him with his glittering eye,' et cetera."
"'The man recovered from the bite,The dog it was that died,'"
"'The man recovered from the bite,The dog it was that died,'"
"'The man recovered from the bite,
The dog it was that died,'"
quoted Ferrier.
"Oliver Goldsmith, sir," cried the Bengali delightedly, "who wrote like an angel but talked like poor Poll. I esteem it a glorious privilege to hold communion, even in humble capacity of cook and bottle-washer, with gentleman of literary taste and elegant extracts."
The river-bank had descended until the path was almost level with the surface of the water, and passed several patches of reeds which Bill negotiated warily, saying that any one of them might harbour a lion. The white men followed him with growing excitement, and John confessed he felt rather nervous, not knowing but that a lion might at any moment spring up at their feet. He stole a glance at Said Mohammed, and exchanged a smile with Ferrier as he saw that the cook looked decidedly jumpy. Far in the rear came the villagers, eager not to miss the sport, and yet fearful to approach too near.
All at once Bill halted and bent towards the ground. There were the unmistakable pug marks. Following the track with his eyes, but without moving from the spot, after a few moments he stretched out his spear towards a clump of trees about a hundred yards ahead, whispering, "Simba!" Neither John nor Ferrier could at first distinguish the lion, but presently two lionesses sprang out of the undergrowth, and made off with long low bounds across the plain. For a moment the white men watched their graceful movements with admiration, forgetting that these were the pests they had come out to slay. Then they set off in pursuit. But they had not advanced three paces when a huge black-maned lion showed his head among the bushes, snarling angrily. He stared at the strangers for a moment or two, then turned with another growl and trotted after his mates.
"Come along," said John excitedly. "We can't get a fair shot at him yet."
They set off at a run, not troubling about Bill or Said Mohammed, who followed at a discreet distance. They gained on the beast, but after running some three hundred yards found themselves rather short of wind, owing to the fact that they were in rarefied air at least 6000 feet above sea-level.
"We shall spoil our aim if we get puffed," said Ferrier. "Better go slow."
At this moment, however, the lion halted behind a tree, as if to check the pursuit of the lionesses, and stood watching the huntsmen, growling in a very threatening way. He seemed disinclined to budge, so John lay down on the path, and bringing his rifle to his shoulder, covered the huge head.
"Confound it, look how my hand wobbles," he whispered to Ferrier. "I can't fix the sight on him. Be ready to shoot if I miss or just sting him, for he'll fly at us like the wind."
He steadied his arm and pulled the trigger. The fierce head instantly dropped out of sight, and the air was filled with such appalling roars that John hastily fired the second barrel, in the hope of finishing the beast before he could charge. He had to aim by guess-work, and fired half-a-dozen shots before the roaring ceased.
"Now the others," cried John, shouting to the Wanderobbo to keep his eye on the spot.
He ran forward with Ferrier towards the lionesses, which had halted a quarter of a mile away, and could just be seen above the grass. At the men's approach they cantered off, and though the chase was kept up for nearly a mile, they always got to cover before the pursuers came within effective range, and finally disappeared among a large patch of reeds by the river, whence it was hopeless to attempt to dislodge them.
"Better luck next time," said John, as they retraced their steps. "You shall have first shot, Charley."
Returning towards the spot where the lion had been shot, they found that Bill had deserted his post. He was standing in the middle of the path with Said Mohammed, a good hundred yards away from any bushes or trees. The natives were chattering at a little distance.
"Why didn't you do as I told you?" cried John, vexed at the possibility of having lost his quarry.
"Conscience made a coward of him, I fear, sir," said Said Mohammed.
"Well, go and see if you can find the lion. Get the natives to help. I don't know which tree it was we shot him at," he added to Ferrier, "but I'm not going back without his head."
The party split up and made a systematic search, the natives beating the bush and long grass thoroughly with their spears. At last one of them shouted that he had found the simba, instantly running away from the spot at the top of his speed. There was no growling to be heard, however, so plucking up his courage he returned to the place with his comrades. When John reached them, he found the men grouped a yard or two from the lion's tail, jabbering in much excitement. The beast was stretched on his side, but John was surprised to see by the heaving of his flanks that he was not yet dead. Judging that the chatter of the men would have roused him if he had been able to rise, John went towards his head, but the moment the lion caught sight of him he uttered a terrible roar and to John's amazement sprang to his feet. Stepping hastily backward, John stumbled against Said Mohammed, who, believing like every one else that the beast was helpless, had become bold. The Bengali went down like a ninepin. John recovered his footing with an effort, and raising his rifle, fired at the lion at a range of four yards; but he was too hurried and agitated to take a careful aim, and the shot merely had the effect of throwing the infuriated animal on his haunches as he prepared to spring.
All this had happened so quickly that Ferrier, who had been beating the bush in the opposite direction from John, had not yet come up. The sudden flight of the villagers apprised him that something was wrong, and as he hurried to the spot he was horrified at the sight that met his gaze. Man and beast seemed only a yard apart. He dared not shoot for fear of hitting John, and seeing that the shot had but momentarily checked the animal, he had given up his friend for lost when, as by a miracle, a sudden diversion occurred. The lion was leaping on John, who fired his second barrel with shaking hand and missed, when Said Mohammed scrambled to his feet and flew down the path, shrieking at the top of his voice. As if supposing that this white-clad yelling creature was his worst enemy, the lion changed the direction of his spring, almost grazing John as he fell, and bounded off after the Bengali, with such enormous leaps that escape seemed impossible. John hastily reloaded and fired, but he was trembling from head to foot; a mist seemed to rise before his eyes; and his shot went very wide of the mark. By the time Ferrier reached his side the chase seemed over; they thought that nothing could save the unlucky Indian. But when almost within the brute's clutches, Said Mohammed with the desperation of terror made a sudden jump to the right towards the river, as if intending to fling himself into it. The lion swerved after him, presenting his flank to the anxious spectators. Quick as thought Ferrier raised his rifle and, just as the beast was midway in his final spring, brought him down with a bullet through the heart.
[image]"Ferrier raised his rifle, and brought him down with a bullet through the heart."
[image]
[image]
"Ferrier raised his rifle, and brought him down with a bullet through the heart."
John heaved a deep sigh of relief.
"Good man!" he said. "But what on earth is the fellow up to?"
Next moment both he and Ferrier were shaking their sides with laughter, almost hysterical now that the tension was relaxed. The Bengali, too much overcome with terror to be aware of his safety, was scrambling up a thorn tree with an agility that would have done credit to a slimmer man. Up he went, frantically swinging himself from bough to bough. Half way up he lost his puggaree, snatched from his head by a long spike, and every stage of his ascent was marked by little bits of his white cotton dhoti left clinging to the branches. For some moments John was helpless with laughter, but at last he managed to shout to Said Mohammed to come down, for the beast was dead. The shout only made him climb the faster, nor did he stop until he was perched on the topmost branch, his white robe flapping in tatters about him. Nothing would induce him to budge until the lion's head had been cut off, to be carried back to the farm as a trophy. Then he descended, much more slowly than he had mounted, and with a piteous effort to regain his dignity that was too much for John and Ferrier, who turned their backs so that he should not see their amusement.
These excitements were considered enough for one day, and the party set off for home, the natives carrying the lion's head and shouting a song of triumph. John said nothing to Said Mohammed until he thought his composure was restored. Then he said--
"I owe you my life, khansaman. It was very plucky of you to draw the lion after you, and I shan't forget it.--Shut up!" he whispered to Ferrier, who emitted a sort of gurgle.
A gratified smile stole across the Bengali's face.
"I am quite bucked, sir," he said. "Your words are sweeter than honey. When your honoured parent returns to this vale of woe, my heart will be in my mouth when I say to him: 'Lo! here is your progeny, whom I, Said Mohammed, failed B.A. of Calcutta University, saved from the jaws of the lion. If I had not been on the spot he would have been absolutely up a gum-tree.'"
Ferrier guffawed.
"Why didn't you do as your uncle did in the Sunderbunds?" he asked presently, unable to resist the temptation of a sly dig at the failed B.A.
"The absence of one ingredient, sir, spoils the sauce. It was rotten nuisance, but I forgotin totothe words of the charm."