He fought against it, but the desire to sleep overcame him more and more. His head sank lower, and in an instant he was dreaming that he heard that rustling sound again of some wild animal approaching the group of rocks where he was stationed.
Wolf—hyena—some fierce creature that was coming steadily on nearer and nearer, till before long it would spring upon him, and in the nightmare-like sensation he felt as if he were struggling to get away, while it fascinated him and held him to his place.
One—two—three—four—there were several such creatures drawing nearer and nearer, and he could not cry for help, only stay motionless there in his horrible dread.
Nearer—nearer—nearer, till he fancied he could see them in the darkness gathering themselves up to spring, and still he could not move—still he could not shout to his friends for help, till all at once he seemed to make a desperate spring, and then he was awake and staring into the thick darkness, telling himself that it was fancy.
No; there were sounds farther up the gorge—sounds as of some animals coming softly down, nearer and nearer, but not wolves or hyenas. They were horses.
There was no doubt about it—horses; and now fully awake, the lad felt filled by a new alarm. For who could it be but an enemy stealing along in the darkness; and in the sudden alarm, he did not pause to argue out whether it might not be travellers like themselves, but shouted in a clear ringing voice:
“Who’s that?”
There was utter stillness in the deep gorge, just broken by the gurgling of the fount as the water gushed from below the rock; and in his alarm, startled as much by the deep silence as he had been by the sounds of approaching horsemen, Lawrence shouted again:
“Who’s that?” and then, hardly knowing what he did, he raised his gun and fired.