In Search of the Okapi Part 31

"All right," gasped Venning.

"Feel for it first, or you'll be hitting me. Quick! I say."

"What is it?" cried Venning, alarmed at the sudden change in Compton's tones from rage to alarm.

"Something's pulling me. It's got its arm through the side."

There was a sudden fierce yap and a snapping of jaws. Compton's shirt gave way with a tear, and outside in the dark the leopard screamed. Inside the cry was answered by the howl of a jackal.

"It's our jackal," shouted Venning.

"Where--what?"

"Here;" and Venning laughed hysterically. "Poor old chap!" then, "Good old jacky!"

"Nonsense!" said Compton; but his band groped out in the dark, and when he felt the rough tongue, he joined in the laugh. They were as pleased as if Mr. Hums or Muata had returned.

"Did the brute really hook you?"

"Forced his paw through," said Compton, shuddering, "but the jackal bit him."

The jackal's tail thumped the ground, then they felt it stiffen, and were again on the alert. Venning ran his fingers lightly along the jackal's back till he reached the nose, which was pointing straight up. Without a moment's delay he raised his rifle and fired.

At the same moment the saplings forming the roof snapped and fell in upon them with an added weight, which knocked them flat. They were dimly conscious of a tremendous struggle, but when they had crawled out of the litter, they were thankful to find that each was still alive. After the first hurried words, they faced the darkness apprehensively, for their shelter was gone, and their rifles were under the branches.

"Quick!" said Compton, "help pull the branches away."

Guided by the tinder, they felt for the branches and pulled, but let go at once and fell back, for a fierce growl greeted them almost in their faces.

"By Jove!" muttered Compton, "it's all over now. Don't run; let us stick together."

"I'm not running," said Venning. "We've got our sheath-knives."

They drew their knives, and, holding each other by the disengaged hand, fell back step by step, till they found the support of a tree- trunk, when they waited for the attack. From time to time the low growls gave warning of the enemy's close presence, and to them each sound was as a death-knell; for what were their knives against a foe so powerful, who had, too, the advantage of sight?

For perhaps two hours of awful suspense they stood, and then Compton lost patience.

"I can't stand this," he said. "That brute's playing with us, and I'm going to finish it."

"Wait; when the morning comes we can see."

"Will it ever come? No."

Compton struck a match, cradled it in his hand till it caught, then, with his face showing rigid by the reflection, he moved forward.

Venning went too, shoulder to shoulder. Each held his knife, point up, every muscle on the strain. A snarl greeted each step, and presently they saw two glowing spots before the match went out.

Another match was struck by a steady hand, and this time the spots blazed out from the blackness.

Venning felt for his log-book, tore out a sheet, screwed it up, lit it, and held the flame up.

There, less than six feet away, was the leopard, its mouth open, the gleaming fangs showing their full length--a sight so forbidding that he dropped the paper and sprang back.

"Light another," said Compton, steadily.

This was done. He went down on his knees, reached out, seized the b.u.t.t of a rifle, and drew it forth. A second later a bullet crashed into the brain of the leopard, and then, worn out by the strain they had been under so long, they sat with their backs to the trees.

"I'm going to sleep," said Compton.

"I wonder what's become of the jackal?" muttered Venning, drawing up his knees with a sigh of relief.

"Don't know, and don't care, for he's better off than we are. Good night."

"Good night, old chap; and it was awfully good of you to turn back."

Snore! Venning yawned, and in five minutes they were both asleep in the forest, without so much as a twig to cover them. But they were not altogether unprotected, for when they rubbed the sleep out of their eyes in the morning, they found the jackal curled up at their feet, with one ear c.o.c.ked and one eye open. But a very different jackal he was from the graceful animal they knew so well. His body was distended to enormous proportions, and it was clear how his absence was to be accounted for. While they had stood in the dark, expecting every moment to be pounced upon, he had been gorging on the dead leopard. They now looked at their foe of the night, and found why it was that it had left them uninjured. There were three wounds on the body--the bullet-hole in the forehead, a fleshy wound on the hind leg, and a hit on the spine, which had disabled it just as it was in the act of springing down upon the roof.

"It's your bag," said Compton. "To think that we stood shivering and shaking for two mortal hours, while all the time the beggar was helpless!"

Venning did not echo the complaint; he was too much occupied examining his prize, and taking exact measurements with a tape, which he entered in his log' book, together with a description of the markings.

"It's a new species," he said, with the pride of an explorer who discovers a new mountain. "I will call it a tree-lion--leo arboriensis Venningii--that is, if you don't wish it called after you."

"Call it anything you like, old fellow; but I should say it was just an ordinary leopard."

"You never saw a leopard with those markings."

"And no one ever saw a climbing lion."

"It has adapted itself to changed conditions. The markings match the colouring of the branches, and there has been a change in the formation of the claws"--holding up a huge paw--"while the forearm is a little curved, and the skin between the elbow and the body bears a resemblance in its growth to that found on the so-called 'flying-squirrel.'"

"It's a tough customer, whatever it is, and I hope that it is the last of its kind. Do you know that we have no more water?"

"I shall examine the contents of the stomach, and I fully expect to find that its usual prey is the monkey."

"It had a great hankering for white man, at any rate. Did you hear me say there was no water?"

"Its hind legs are very much longer than the fore legs--another proof of an arboreal existence. It's a most important find. I wish Mr. Hume were here."

"So do I," said Compton, heartily, stirring the jackal with his foot.

That sagacious animal rose slowly, stretched itself, one leg at a time, sniffed at the dead leopard, or tree-lion, whatever it was, and then curled itself up again.

"Coo-ee--coo-ee!" came out of the woods.

"Coo-ee!" replied Compton, to the glad sound. "Coo-ee!" and he fired off his gun.

Muata's shrill whistle pierced through the files of trees, and the jackal slunk away.

"Hurrah!" yelled Compton, taking off his cap. "Hurrah! Here we are-- all safe!"