“Lions?” said Mark, in a questioning tone.
The man smiled pleasantly, and the boy repeated his question; but it was plain that the black did not understand.
“Oomph! Oomph! Oomph!” growled Mark, in as near an imitation of the monarch of the forest’s roar as he could contrive after a couple of visits to the Zoo; but it had no effect whatever on their surroundings till the black, who now fully grasped his meaning, crouched down and uttered a startling, barking roar which made two or three of the nearest bullocks start up and stare in their direction.
“Here, you, sir, stop that!” shouted Buck Denham, the driver of their waggon, the first being in charge of the Hottentot.
The black turned to him, smiling, and nodded, before meeting the boys’ eyes again and shaking his head.
Just then the doctor approached, to ask the reason of their guide’s imitation.
“Oh,” he said, on being informed, “don’t encourage him in anything of that sort again, or we shall have a stampede of the ponies and bullocks. Well, Mark, recollect that it’s your first watch to-night.”
“Oh, I shan’t forget,” was the reply. “But you don’t think we have come out far enough yet to meet with dangerous wild beasts, do you?”
“Oh, indeed, but I do,” replied the doctor. “We have left the last post of civilisation behind, and we may come upon danger at any time. Of course you will mount guard with one of the double rifles charged with bullet, and if there really is any suggestion of danger you will fire, so as to give the alarm. We shall come to your help directly.”
“Oh, yes, I understand,” said Mark confidently, and he passed the intervening time before he received his orders going round their little camp with his cousin, watching the final preparations made by the drivers and forelopers, a couple of ordinary thick-lipped blacks, and then having a chat with the two keepers about what a change it was from the park and grounds of the old manor.