“I don’t quite know, father? Not much; but it sprang right at me and knocked me back amongst the bushes as it tore away.”
“What tore away?” cried the doctor. “What did you fire at?”
“I am not quite sure,” replied the boy excitedly, “but I think it was a lion. I saw it creeping up towards the ponies, and as it reared up to spring upon them I fired.”
“Yes,” said his father sharply, “and then?”
“I think I must have wounded it, for I heard it dashing away amongst the bushes.”
“Well done, boy,” cried his father, patting him on the shoulder. “But you are sure you are not hurt much?”
“Oh, yes, I am not hurt much, father,” said the boy quietly. “The beast struck me on the shoulder and knocked me right backwards.”
“Then he will be clawed, doctor. Let’s get him into the waggon, and have a light.”
“Yes, by all means. Who’s there?” cried the doctor, in the darkness and confusion.
“Ay, ay, sir! Me, sir. Off for a lantern,” cried the little sailor.