“Well, sir, it’s not to be sneezed at,” said the big driver good-humouredly, “and we shall work all the better at following up the spoor after a good mug or two of tea. Say, Mr Dean, sir, don’t you feel as if a drop would do you good?”
“Yes; but what a horrid night!”
“Oh, not so very bad, sir. You will soon get used to lions.”
“But the poor bullocks?” said Mark.
“Ah, that is a bit of a loss, sir, but it’s only nature. Bullocks is animals as was made to be eaten, and the lions are always on the look out for their share. Well, gentlemen, I am ready. It’s getting broad daylight now. We are all loaded up. What do you say to a start?”
“No,” said the doctor; “no one shall stir until the sun is well up.”
“All right, sir; you are boss; but I am getting a bit anxious to make a start. No bullocks, no more trekking, for a waggon ain’t much use stuck here under the trees.”
Meanwhile Mak had been with Dan to fill the water vessels from the stream, an affluent of the now big river by which they were camped. Mak had helped to draw together the glowing embers, and had then gone off again unnoticed, till all at once he was heard to utter a peculiar cry and come rushing towards them at full speed, as if pursued by one of the savage beasts that had attacked them in the dark hours of the night.
“Hi—hi—hi—hi!” he yelled, as he came swiftly threading his way amongst the trees, waving his hands, each armed with a half of the broken spear, and pointing with them now and then in the direction from which he had come.
Rifles were held ready, and all stood waiting for the next onslaught, till the black rushed, wildly gesticulating, into their midst.