He supposed he could say what he pleased and Oscar would believe it.
The wagon had hardly left Zurnst before McCann began to carry out his plans for bringing Oscar's expedition to an end by telling some of the most fearful yarns the boy had ever heard.
He said, among other things, that the lions which were to be found in some of the plains that lay along Oscar's proposed route were so numerous and savage that they would not wait to be attacked, but would assume the offensive, even in the daytime, and drive hunters off their grounds.
He affirmed that the water was totally unfit to drink, being so full of animal life that an attempt to clear it by boiling only turned it into porridge; that the fountains were many days' journey apart, and that he had more than once seen thirsty oxen driven frantic by simply getting a sniff of the water-butt in the rear of the wagon.
"Oh, it's a dreadful place, Mr. Preston!" he would often say. "You have no idea of what is before you."
"That is just what folks told me when I went hunting in the foot-hills," Oscar would reply.
"But this is different. You had plenty of water, and there were no lions to kill your stock. I really don't know whether you can stand it or not."
"Can you?"