Emson closed his eyes, and Dyke sat watching him till his regular breathing told that he was fast asleep, and then the lad went out to go and busy himself about the place, meaning to take his gun that evening and make for the patch of forest beyond the kopje, so as to shoot a couple or so of the guinea-fowl; but a sharp storm came on and prevented him, though at bed-time, when he looked out, after seeing that the lion cubs and dog were curled up happily enough together, the stars were shining brilliantly, and a dull, soft light in the east told that the full moon would soon be up.
Five minutes later he was in his corner, feeling very drowsy, and a little troubled in his mind about his brother’s determination.
“But Joe’ll think differently when he gets better,” Dyke said to himself; and then began to think whether he ought not to have watched the wagon.
“One can’t work and watch, too,” he thought as he yawned, “but I might have made Duke sleep in the wagon, and I will.”
But he was so utterly wearied out that he kept putting off the getting up from minute to minute, till he forgot all about it in sleep, plunging at once into a troubled dream, in which he saw his brother standing, angry and threatening with a big stick in his hand, and about to bring it down upon him with a heavy thud for neglecting their valuable stores, when he awoke to find that there was some substance in that dream.
Chapter Twenty Six.
The Night Attack.
For a few moments Dyke could not collect himself sufficiently to speak, but stared at the black figure leaning over him, with what seemed to be a heavy club, while the shadow cast by the feeble lamp upon the wall to his left looked prodigious.