“No—no,” whispered Syd, who grasped the position now; “it must have been that beast we are trying to catch. Yes; he has taken the biscuit that lay there while you slept.”
“Very sorry, sir; been hard at work, and—”
Sydney heard no more. He had dashed out of the canvas-covered hut and run swiftly down toward the lower gun.
“Look out, Roylance! Strake!” he shouted; “it’s coming your way.”
Bang!
A pause as the shot echoed among the rocks. Then there was another report, and a wild cry. Then silence, broken directly after by the muttering of men’s voices.
“Got it,” cried Syd.
“Yes; Strake has brought it down. It came with a rush between us, and he fired, and then fired again.”
“Yes, I heard. What is it—a bear?”
“Don’t know; we want a candle. I’ll fetch the one from Mr Dallas’s place and shade it with my hat.”