“How do you feel now?” asked one of the Boers. “Better, I hope? It was a close shave for you, but your last bullet went through the lion’s heart and killed the animal.”
“Oh, I’m all right again now!” replied Jack, endeavouring to sit up, but falling back with a groan. “That beast has knocked all the strength out of me,” he continued. “But tell me, who are you, and was the other man killed?”
“His arm was broken,” the Boer answered, “and he has to thank you for his life. It was a brave act to come forward and fight the lion alone, and your life was in God’s hands. It was doubly noble of you, Englishman, for by attacking that lion you fell into our hands and are a prisoner. But do not let that worry you. You shall be well treated, and in Pretoria you will be far safer than out here as a despatch-rider.”
“A prisoner!” exclaimed Jack indignantly. “Surely you will not take me to Pretoria. After all I might have stood quietly in the hut, and let the lion carry off your comrade without moving a finger to help him. You say it was brave of me, then why not let me go on that account!”
“My friend, that would be impossible,” the Boer replied kindly. “You are too weak to stand now, and believe me, you will be much the same for a week or more. If we left you you would certainly die, for I have seen enough of wounds, especially of this class, to know that if not carefully attended to they prove dangerous. We are returning to Pretoria, and you must accompany us. After all, it will be some consolation to you to know that the young burgher you saved is an Englishman by birth. He was commandeered to fight for us, but we all know that his heart is with his countrymen. Cheer up! He will be a comrade for you.”
Jack remained silent for some time after the Boer doctor had left him, and was at first inclined to grumble at his luck. Then, as he began to realise how weak he really was, he saw that to be taken prisoner was really the best thing that could happen to him.
“After all,” he thought, “I shall have a chance of escaping, and I am sure if I were given my liberty I should die out here in the bush like a dog. I’m as weak as a rat now, but by the time we reach Pretoria I ought to be strong again. Then, if I do manage to get away, and I shall certainly have a try, I ought to be able to carry valuable information with me. Yes, after all, I am not so badly off, and will make the best of matters.”
About half an hour later the Boer doctor returned, and with the help of three other men, who treated Jack with the utmost kindness, lifted him gently and carried him towards the wagon. Day had already dawned, so that Jack was able to see that another figure lay on a rough bed of rugs beneath the huge canvas tent which covered the cumbersome vehicle. It was the young English burgher who had first attacked the lion, and as they approached the wagon he sat up with a jerk and looked eagerly at Jack.
He was a broad-shouldered young fellow, with a pleasant, open face, now somewhat pale from the effects of the injury he had received and from the pain he suffered. His right arm was suspended in a sling, and there was a deep scratch across his forehead.
No sooner was Jack laid beside him than his comrade in misfortune leant across, and, taking up his hand, pressed it warmly and endeavoured to speak. But he was evidently too much overcome by emotion, and his lips trembled so much that he looked as though he were on the point of bursting into tears. With a visible effort he steadied himself, and, still pressing Jack’s hand, began to talk to him.