Off to the Wilds Part 21

Again they separated, Jack following, however, pretty closely upon poor Chicory's steps, till the excitement that had kept him up so long began to fail, and he sat down pretty well exhausted, with his rifle across his knees and his back against a tree.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

JACK ROGERS GOES TO SLEEP.

Jack could hardly tell afterwards how it all happened, for he felt that he must have gone off fast asleep from utter exhaustion, but his sleep could not have lasted above an hour, for when he awoke with a start the sun had only just dipped down out of sight, and there was a faint glow still amongst the trees.

All was very silent and he was drowsy, but a feeling of alarm now began to oppress him, and he wondered whether Chicory and the General would soon be there.

His next thought was about his rifle, which still lay across his knees; and feeling that he might at any moment be called upon to use it in his defence, he c.o.c.ked both barrels, and was then about to get up and shout, when, not a hundred yards away down a broad vista of the open forest, he saw something which made him present his rifle and then sit motionless, with his heart going thump, thump, heavily beneath his ribs.

For there, stealing softly along, with its belly almost sweeping the ground, was a huge lion--not a smooth, maneless lion, such as the two they had slain, but a big-muzzled, rugged-maned, hairy monster, such as he was familiar with in pictures--the natural history lion that he had seen a hundred times.

To have attempted to fire would have been madness at that distance, and it was evident that he was at present in no danger, for seated as he was in the shadow, with his back to the trunk of a great tree, the lion had not seen him.

The next moment Jack saw why he pa.s.sed unnoticed.

The lion was cautiously stalking some dark animal that was softly gliding through the bushes, following it step by step awaiting the time to spring.

It was an interesting sight, though painful; and Jack thought of his brother's adventure with the serpent, and whether he was not in duty bound to save this animal from its pursuer as his brother saved the gazelle.

The next moment Jack's heart seemed to stand still, for the dark animal pa.s.sed out of the bushes into sight, and he saw that it was no wild animal, but poor Chicory, bending down, and evidently carefully tracing some spoor, perhaps his brother's, while the lion was following to strike him down.

It was a terrible position; for young as he was in woodcraft, Jack had not yet acquired the firmness in critical moments that comes to the old hunter, and for the time he felt paralysed.

He was a brave, self-denying boy, but in that emergency he could only sit there, turned as it were to stone, and watch the motions of poor Chicory, and the merciless beast that was stealthily creeping along in his wake without a sound.

Jack knew that Chicory's position was critical in the extreme, and that if he did not save him by a lucky shot the lion would strike him down; but he could not move; the muscles of his whole body refused to act, as if he was in a nightmare; all he could do was to move his eyes and watch the terrible tragedy about to be enacted.

The boy felt as if he would have given worlds to be able to fire, or even shout; but he could do nothing but wait, and see Chicory creeping patiently along in and out among the trees and bushes, now hidden, now coming into sight for a few moments, but always so intent upon the footprints he was examining, that he did not hear his enemy.

And what an enemy! There was the great powerful beast, with glaring eyes and horrent mane, creeping along with its fur brushing the gra.s.s, and every foot touching the ground like velvet. At times Jack could see the great muscles moving beneath its skin, and the pliant tail swaying and quivering as it softly lashed it to and fro.

Several times over it crouched down, as if about to spring, but a quick movement on the part of the Zulu boy caused it to pause--and still the hunt went on.

As Jack sat there the great drops of perspiration gathered upon his forehead, and trickled down his face. The sun's light reflected from the glowing clouds grew less, and there was a grey gloom gathering round, which made the scene before him more painful. At one time he thought that as darkness came on Chicory might give up, become aware of his danger, and so escape. Even now, if he could have warned him the boy would have doubtless bounded into a tree, for he was as quick and active as a monkey; but no warning pa.s.sed from Jack's lips, and the strange weird scene went on.

The forest glade before him might have been a maze whose path Chicory was trying to thread, and the lion some faithful attendant beast, watchfully following in his very steps. But though Jack's body was as it were enchained, his mind was in a fearful state of activity; and not only did he follow as if fascinated every step, but his thoughts even went in advance, and he felt sick as he thought of the catastrophe about to happen, seeming to see the lion make its final crouch and spring, hearing too the boy's death-shriek; and as the actors in the terrible scene drew nearer to him, Jack strove with all his might to cast off his inaction.

On still, and in and out, in a heavy weary way, as if he could hardly put one leg before the other, went poor Chicory; and slowly and carefully followed the lion, the ma.s.sive jaws thrust forward, and each great paw raised and set down without a sound.

It could not have lasted more than a few minutes, this exciting scene, but it seemed never ending to Jack as he sat there, till in one instant he was roused back into action, and to try and the poor boy.

In his wanderings in and out, as has been said, Chicory came nearer to where his young master sat, with his back to the trunk of the great forest-tree, and more than once Jack wondered that the lion had not seen him; though this was easily explainable--he remained perfectly motionless, and the animal was intent upon his prey.

Chicory had come on nearer and nearer then, till he was not above thirty yards from Jack, when, turning in amongst some long gra.s.s, the positions were suddenly reversed, for in place of following the Zulu boy, the lion crept round a clump of bushes so as to come face to face with him, and then crouched ready to spring--just as Chicory stopped short, leaning forward over something in the long gra.s.s, and, dropping his a.s.segai, uttered a piercing shriek.

Not thirty yards away, and just in face of where Jack was; and he knew that Chicory had come upon something terrible, perhaps the body of his brother, while he, Jack, had been sitting there quite unconscious, and had even in his ignorance gone to sleep.

It was that cry that roused Jack into action, for, almost as the boy dropped his a.s.segai and leaned over that something in the long gra.s.s, the lion gathered itself for its spring, and the watcher's rifle rose to his shoulder. There was one quick aim--the sharp crack, followed by a mult.i.tude of echoes; and Jack sprang to his feet and on one side, to avoid the charge should the lion come his way.

There was a deafening roar, and the lion, which had fallen short in his spring and rolled over, evidently badly hit, struggled to his feet, and made at Jack, who sheltered himself behind the nearest tree; and when the great brute came on, with distended claws and bristling mane, he fired again, at a distance of a couple of yards, forgetting that his charge was but small shot.

At that distance, though, small shot were as good as a bullet, and the lion fell in his tracks, snarling and growling horribly, as he struck impotently at his slayer; then his head fell back, the mighty paws grew inert, and he lay over more upon his side--for with a furious cry of rage Chicory forgot his weariness, and picking up his a.s.segai, drove it deep into the animal's chest.

Hardly believing it true, Jack rapidly reloaded, congratulating himself upon what he had done, when he heard the rustling of leaves, and presented his piece, fully expecting that it was the lion's mate.

But no: it was the General, who ran panting up, having heard the sound of the rifle, and as he reached them Chicory took his hand, and led him to the patch of gra.s.s without a word.

Jack followed, instinctively knowing that something terrible was there.

And then his heart seemed to stand still, as he heard a deep groan burst from the General's breast, and he sank down by the body of the son he had come to seek.

"Is--is he dead?" said Jack, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper, as he gazed down in the gathering darkness at poor Coffee's bleeding form.

For answer the General was feeling the boy's chest, and he then laid his ear against his side.

"No, not dead!" he cried excitedly.

Then lifting the boy in his arms, he started off back towards the waggon, Jack and Chicory following behind, but not until the latter had rushed back to where the lion lay, and plunged his a.s.segai once more deeply into the monster's chest.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE CAPTURE OF A CAT.

It was a long and toilsome walk back, for the night had come on quickly, and every now and then the roar of some beast of prey, or the crash of some animal through the trees, was heard. But nothing interfered with them; and when from time to time they halted for a few moments, the General gladly made use of the strips torn by Jack from his handkerchief and shirt to bind up the poor boy's bleeding wounds.

It seemed wonderful to Jack that strength and determination on the part of the General, almost as wonderful as the unerring instinct with which he made straight for the camp.

He did not speak once, but there was something exceedingly tender in the way in which he tried to carry the wounded boy, so as not to cause him pain; for he did not realise that poor Coffee was quite insensible to suffering, and had not felt anything since he had been struck down.

At last, when Jack felt that he could no longer plant one leg before the other, there was the bright glow of the fire at the little camp, where they found Mr Rogers in a terrible state of uneasiness at their prolonged absence.

The moment, however, he found what was wrong, his surgical skill, which was not slight, was brought to bear, and the terrible gaping wounds of the poor boy were sewn up and bandaged.

Read by the light of all that Jack had to tell, it was plain enough what had befallen poor Coffee. He had been stalked, by the same lion probably as that which Jack had shot. The monster had sprung upon him, clawing his bare back and shoulder; and then, probably being surfeited with devouring some unfortunate beast, he had left the boy, and had been roused again by another intruder upon his domains, while, but for Jack's rifle, poor Chicory would have shared his fate.

"But a' didn't kill Chick, Boss Jack. Boss Jack kill um, and Boss Jack and Chick go and kill all a lion now, and not leave not one."

This was the next morning, when the events of the past night had been talked over, and Mr Rogers had expressed a hope that the boy might live.

But, as he told his sons, it was very doubtful, for he had been horribly clawed by the lion, though fortunately upon his back. Had the creature seized him in front, he must have lost his life.

All attempts at continuing the journey were of course put off, a comfortable bed being made up for Coffee where he would feel the cooling breeze and be sheltered from the sun, while his father took his place by him, and sat and kept the bandages over the wounds wet and cool.