Then slowly and cautiously the little line advanced, till all at once the black stopped, holding his spear point low and the haft pressed into the ground, for there was a savage roar, and a huge lion, which looked golden, made a tremendous bound right out into the light.
Dean uttered a cry, and the brute couched, snarling fiercely, with the boy lying beneath the monster’s outstretched paws.
Chapter Fifteen.
Who watched the Fire?
“Back, Mark! Back, boy!” cried Sir James wildly. “No, no; don’t shoot,” he continued.
The words were unnecessary, for the advancing men, stunned as it were by the catastrophe, stood fast, rifle to shoulder, not daring to draw trigger for fear of injuring the lion’s prisoner; but as if deaf to his father’s command, Mark continued to advance on one side, the black on the other, till they were close up to the great furious beast, whose eyes were glowing like the fire reflected in them, while its horrent mane stood up as if every hair were a separate wire of gold.
The savage brute, as if contented with having captured its prey, couched there perfectly still, glaring at its approaching enemies as if waiting before making its next spring, and then, exactly together, from one side the black plunged the keen blade of his long spear into its shoulder, while from the other Mark, thrusting forward his rifle, drew trigger not a yard away, sending a bullet right into the monster’s skull.
There was a hoarse yell, a sharp crack, the lion threw itself over backward, rolled over twice, slowly stretching itself out with extended paws tearing at the earth, and then lay still.