“No, not dead!” he cried excitedly.
Then lifting the boy in his arms, he started off back towards the waggon, Jack and Chicory following behind, but not until the latter had rushed back to where the lion lay, and plunged his assegai once more deeply into the monster’s chest.
Chapter Eighteen.
The Capture of a Cat.
It was a long and toilsome walk back, for the night had come on quickly, and every now and then the roar of some beast of prey, or the crash of some animal through the trees, was heard. But nothing interfered with them; and when from time to time they halted for a few moments, the General gladly made use of the strips torn by Jack from his handkerchief and shirt to bind up the poor boy’s bleeding wounds.
It seemed wonderful to Jack that strength and determination on the part of the General, almost as wonderful as the unerring instinct with which he made straight for the camp.
He did not speak once, but there was something exceedingly tender in the way in which he tried to carry the wounded boy, so as not to cause him pain; for he did not realise that poor Coffee was quite insensible to suffering, and had not felt anything since he had been struck down.
At last, when Jack felt that he could no longer plant one leg before the other, there was the bright glow of the fire at the little camp, where they found Mr Rogers in a terrible state of uneasiness at their prolonged absence.