Chicory had come on nearer and nearer then, till he was not above thirty yards from Jack, when, turning in amongst some long grass, the positions were suddenly reversed, for in place of following the Zulu boy, the lion crept round a clump of bushes so as to come face to face with him, and then crouched ready to spring—just as Chicory stopped short, leaning forward over something in the long grass, and, dropping his assegai, uttered a piercing shriek.
Not thirty yards away, and just in face of where Jack was; and he knew that Chicory had come upon something terrible, perhaps the body of his brother, while he, Jack, had been sitting there quite unconscious, and had even in his ignorance gone to sleep.
It was that cry that roused Jack into action, for, almost as the boy dropped his assegai and leaned over that something in the long grass, the lion gathered itself for its spring, and the watcher’s rifle rose to his shoulder. There was one quick aim—the sharp crack, followed by a multitude of echoes; and Jack sprang to his feet and on one side, to avoid the charge should the lion come his way.
There was a deafening roar, and the lion, which had fallen short in his spring and rolled over, evidently badly hit, struggled to his feet, and made at Jack, who sheltered himself behind the nearest tree; and when the great brute came on, with distended claws and bristling mane, he fired again, at a distance of a couple of yards, forgetting that his charge was but small shot.
At that distance, though, small shot were as good as a bullet, and the lion fell in his tracks, snarling and growling horribly, as he struck impotently at his slayer; then his head fell back, the mighty paws grew inert, and he lay over more upon his side—for with a furious cry of rage Chicory forgot his weariness, and picking up his assegai, drove it deep into the animal’s chest.
Hardly believing it true, Jack rapidly reloaded, congratulating himself upon what he had done, when he heard the rustling of leaves, and presented his piece, fully expecting that it was the lion’s mate.
But no: it was the General, who ran panting up, having heard the sound of the rifle, and as he reached them Chicory took his hand, and led him to the patch of grass without a word.
Jack followed, instinctively knowing that something terrible was there. And then his heart seemed to stand still, as he heard a deep groan burst from the General’s breast, and he sank down by the body of the son he had come to seek.
“Is—is he dead?” said Jack, in a hoarse whisper, as he gazed down in the gathering darkness at poor Coffee’s bleeding form.
For answer the General was feeling the boy’s chest, and he then laid his ear against his side.