He was a brave, self-denying boy, but in that emergency he could only sit there, turned as it were to stone, and watch the motions of poor Chicory, and the merciless beast that was stealthily creeping along in his wake without a sound.
Jack knew that Chicory’s position was critical in the extreme, and that if he did not save him by a lucky shot the lion would strike him down; but he could not move; the muscles of his whole body refused to act, as if he was in a nightmare; all he could do was to move his eyes and watch the terrible tragedy about to be enacted.
The boy felt as if he would have given worlds to be able to fire, or even shout; but he could do nothing but wait, and see Chicory creeping patiently along in and out among the trees and bushes, now hidden, now coming into sight for a few moments, but always so intent upon the footprints he was examining, that he did not hear his enemy.
And what an enemy! There was the great powerful beast, with glaring eyes and horrent mane, creeping along with its fur brushing the grass, and every foot touching the ground like velvet. At times Jack could see the great muscles moving beneath its skin, and the pliant tail swaying and quivering as it softly lashed it to and fro.
Several times over it crouched down, as if about to spring, but a quick movement on the part of the Zulu boy caused it to pause—and still the hunt went on.
As Jack sat there the great drops of perspiration gathered upon his forehead, and trickled down his face. The sun’s light reflected from the glowing clouds grew less, and there was a grey gloom gathering round, which made the scene before him more painful. At one time he thought that as darkness came on Chicory might give up, become aware of his danger, and so escape. Even now, if he could have warned him the boy would have doubtless bounded into a tree, for he was as quick and active as a monkey; but no warning passed from Jack’s lips, and the strange weird scene went on.
The forest glade before him might have been a maze whose path Chicory was trying to thread, and the lion some faithful attendant beast, watchfully following in his very steps. But though Jack’s body was as it were enchained, his mind was in a fearful state of activity; and not only did he follow as if fascinated every step, but his thoughts even went in advance, and he felt sick as he thought of the catastrophe about to happen, seeming to see the lion make its final crouch and spring, hearing too the boy’s death-shriek; and as the actors in the terrible scene drew nearer to him, Jack strove with all his might to cast off his inaction.
On still, and in and out, in a heavy weary way, as if he could hardly put one leg before the other, went poor Chicory; and slowly and carefully followed the lion, the massive jaws thrust forward, and each great paw raised and set down without a sound.
It could not have lasted more than a few minutes, this exciting scene, but it seemed never ending to Jack as he sat there, till in one instant he was roused back into action, and to try and the poor boy.
In his wanderings in and out, as has been said, Chicory came nearer to where his young master sat, with his back to the trunk of the great forest-tree, and more than once Jack wondered that the lion had not seen him; though this was easily explainable—he remained perfectly motionless, and the animal was intent upon his prey.