“Very good: we’ll try, then; but be careful not to fire unless you get a good sure chance. Look here; this will be the best plan. One of us must sit fast here while the other rides round.”
“But the one who stops will get the best chance, for the game will be driven towards him. Who’s to stop?”
Emson thrust his hand into his pocket, and drew it out again clenched.
“Something or nothing?” he cried.
“Nothing,” said Dyke sharply.
“Nothing. Right. Your chance,” said Emson.
“Then I’ll stay here?”
“Very well then; be ready. I shall ride ahead, and the lions will sneak round till they find you are here, and then they’ll either go right across, or break cover and gallop off. There’s every chance for a shot. Right forward in the shoulder, mind.”
“Won’t charge me, will they?”
“Not unless they’re wounded,” replied Emson.—“Ready?”