“Hold your tongue, Dean,” said Mark. “Buck Denham’s right. He must be. I believe Peter did go to sleep, and woke up to find the fire out and the lions at the poor ponies and bullocks.”
“Oh!” cried Dean excitedly. “Why, if he did that, neglecting his duty—going to sleep—”
Just then he caught his cousin’s eyes looking at him in a peculiar way, and he stopped short.
“Drop it,” said Mark, and he was going to add, “Dozey;” but he made his meaning look do instead.
“There, gen’lemen,” said Buck, “I shan’t say no more about it, and I don’t believe the poor chap will ever do it again. There, I feel better now, Mr Mark. It’s off my mind; but I did feel wild. Why, some of us might have been mauled by the lions; and there’s my poor beasts: two of them’s killed for sartain, and lying yonder half eaten. Oh, and there’s the ponies!”
“And we don’t know yet,” said Mark, “what may have happened to your two men and Brown.”
“Oh, they will be all right, sir.”
“I don’t know,” said Mark. “But there, poor Peter is badly hurt, and we will think about whether we should tell my father and the doctor, or have it out with him ourselves, when he’s better. I’ll make him confess.”
“There, what did I tell you, gentlemen?” cried the big driver. “Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Ahoy!”
“Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Ahoy! Ahoy!” came from not far away.