Dead Man's Land Part 15

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Could it be a lion?" he thought. "No, it had not the big, s.h.a.ggy head.

But it might have been a lioness, or perhaps some big leopard. Ah!" he panted, "there it is again! It's after the ponies. It must be!" and calling to mind that he had c.o.c.ked his rifle, he covered the dimly-seen animal, which was coming very slowly nearer, and he could make out that it had moved on a few feet and then stopped, as if crouching down waiting to make a spring.

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER NINE.

"SEEN ANY MORE LIONS?"

Feeling half stunned, Mark rolled over and over, holding on to his piece the while, and struggled to his feet from amongst the bushes in which he had involuntarily sought refuge. His movements took him through a low, clinging cloud of the smoke of gunpowder, and he heard the rustling of trampled bushes as what he a.s.sumed to be his a.s.sailant dashed away. And now he grasped the fact that his shot had thoroughly roused the whole camp. The ponies were plunging and dragging at their raw hide lariats, and the oxen were upon their feet, alarmed in the darkness and about to break away; but Buck Denham, the English driver, and the Hottentot were yelling at them, and the black forelopers were adding their shrill cry as they aided in trying to pacify the beasts.

In the midst of the noise and confusion Mark heard his name loudly uttered, followed by the words, "Where are you, my lad? Speak up!"

"Here--here," he panted.

"Oh, that's right."

"Not hurt, are you?" cried the doctor, as he grasped him by one arm, and he awoke to the fact that his breathless father had seized him by the other.

"Speak, my boy," he cried. "Why don't you speak? Where are you hurt?"

"I don't quite know, father? Not much; but it sprang right at me and knocked me back amongst the bushes as it tore away."

"What tore away?" cried the doctor. "What did you fire at?"

"I am not quite sure," replied the boy excitedly, "but I think it was a lion. I saw it creeping up towards the ponies, and as it reared up to spring upon them I fired."

"Yes," said his father sharply, "and then?"

"I think I must have wounded it, for I heard it dashing away amongst the bushes."

"Well done, boy," cried his father, patting him on the shoulder. "But you are sure you are not hurt much?"

"Oh, yes, I am not hurt much, father," said the boy quietly. "The beast struck me on the shoulder and knocked me right backwards."

"Then he will be clawed, doctor. Let's get him into the waggon, and have a light."

"Yes, by all means. Who's there?" cried the doctor, in the darkness and confusion.

"Ay, ay, sir! Me, sir. Off for a lantern," cried the little sailor.

"Here we are sir," cried Bob Bacon. "Me, sir, and Peter Dance."

"That's right, my lads. Take hold of Mr Mark and carry him into the waggon."

"Oh, Mark," cried another voice, "don't say you are hurt!"

"Well, but I am, old chap," said Mark coolly. "No, I say, don't do that. Don't be frightened, father, I can walk."

"Are you sure, boy?" said the doctor, who had handed the rifle with which he had come out armed to the keeper; and as he spoke he pa.s.sed his hands over Mark's shoulders, fully expecting to feel the moisture of blood oozing through his clothes.

"Oh!" shouted the boy, and Sir James winced, uttering a low hissing sound the while.

"It's got him there," said the doctor, between his teeth.

"Yes, it p.r.i.c.ks," said the boy. "It was only when you touched it."

At that moment a light appeared from the direction of the first waggon, and the big bullock driver joined the party, ready to open his lantern and cast its rays upon the excited little throng, one of the first faces seen being that of the black guide, who, spear in hand, seemed to become one of the most animated, as he stood with his eyes flashing and his white teeth bared.

"Ahoy! Light's here, sir!" shouted the sailor.

"Bring it here," cried the doctor, and the rays of a second lantern came dancing through the darkness to help light up the scene.

"Now, my boy," said the doctor, "do you feel faint?"

"No," said Mark st.u.r.dily.

"I only want to see how much you are hurt."

"It's getting better now," said the boy cheerfully. "It only aches."

"But I must see where--" began the doctor, only to be checked by a shout from Mark.

"I say, don't! You are hurting me again. It's a big thorn, and you pressed it farther in."

"Is it the beast's claw?" whispered Sir James.