“And besides,” continued the doctor, “if we fire at where that snarling comes from it will be answered by a rush. The brutes can see in this horrid darkness.”
“What are they doing?” asked Dean.
“They have pulled down a bullock, boys, and they are quarrelling over it. Can’t you hear? Oh, this darkness!” cried the speaker, and he gave—so the sound indicated—a stamp of one foot.
“Is the boss there?” cried a gruff voice.
“Yes, this way, Denham,” said the doctor. “Mind the lions.”
“Oh, I hear them, sir. Anyone hurt?”
“I hope not,” replied the doctor, as the man came nearer, rustling through the grass. “Where are your men?”
Oomph! Oomph! Oomph! came in a deep-toned roar, followed by a chorus of snarls.
“Old ’uns and young ’uns,” said Denham, subduing his voice a little. “They don’t like our being so near. I expect my chaps have shinned up the trees somewhere. That’s what they would do, gentlemen; and old Brown has used those long legs of his to put him miles away by this time.”
“But have you heard anything of my two men?” asked Sir James—“Dance and Bacon?”