“I wasn’t asleep,” said Frank.
“No; but you were dreaming, you young rascal.”
“Do you know how I feel?” said Lyell. “I’m feeling sad at the thoughts of parting with you fellows and going back to England.”
“Then, my dear fellow, don’t go,” said matter-of-fact Chisholm O’Grahame.
“By George, then,” cried Lyell, “and I won’t. I’ll apply for more leave; and while the application is going home, and the reply coming back, I’ll run off with you boys into the jungles. I know a deal more about the country than either of you.”
“Lyell,” said Chisholm, “I knew you were a brick the very first day I clapped eyes upon you.”
They were indeed lucky to have made the acquaintance of such a man as Lyell. He had been pretty much at home in Africa; but in India he was more so; and as soon as he had made up his mind to go with our heroes, he commenced forthwith making preparations for the campaign against big beasts.
He explained everything he did to his three friends, and told them his reasons for acting as he did. Tents were bought in Bombay, and additional rifles—he was very learned on the subject of rifles and rifle-bullets—and Chisholm, being the biggest man, was furnished with a regular bone-smasher. Twenty servants were hired, and a boat was chartered to take their little expedition on to Madras. Just three days were spent in that city.
