In a moment every glass was directed full upon the half-dozen or so of graceful animals that were now in full view scarcely a quarter of a mile distant, but which had hitherto been hidden by a huge intervening mass of rock. It appeared as though Lethbridge’s assumption would probably prove correct, for the animals betrayed evident signs of uneasiness, as though suspicious of danger, though unable to determine the point from which to expect it. They drank hesitatingly, taking small sips of water and then throwing up their heads with a startled air, their ears twitching incessantly, and their bodies braced as though in readiness to bound off like a flash at the first suspicious sign. The party who watched them with such interest were at first disposed to attribute the uneasiness of the animals to the presence of the Flying Fish, which was now in full view; but von Schalckenberg, who was a good deal of a naturalist as well as an experienced shikari, confidently asserted that it was not, that it was something very much nearer that was disturbing them; and presently, while the elders of the party were discussing the matter, and intently watching the gazelles through their binoculars, Ida cried out—
“Oh, look, mamma; look, Colonel; what is that great thing like a spotted cat that is crouching behind that long ledge of rock to the left of where the gazelles are standing? Is it a leopard? Surely it must be! And, oh dear, I believe it is trying to get near enough to the gazelles to spring upon one of them! Please, please don’t let him do it; shoot him, somebody, quick!”
“Where is this leopard of yours, Ida? Show him to me,” said Lethbridge, coming over to the child’s side, and kneeling down beside her.
“There,” answered Ida, pointing. “Don’t you see him? Oh, please be quick—there, now he is standing up and looking over—”
“I see him, sweetheart,” answered Lethbridge, springing to his feet and reaching for his rifle. “Six hundred yards,” he muttered, adjusting the sight of the weapon and raising it to his shoulder.
The head of the animal was now in plain view, showing dark against the brightly illuminated background of rock, while the rest of its body was almost invisible in the deep shadow of the ledge behind which it had been stalking its prey, and it was only by the merest chance that the child’s quick eye had caught sight of the yellow, spotted form crouching low in the deep shadow and stealing almost imperceptibly toward the gazelles.
There was a faint, almost inaudible click as Lethbridge pulled the trigger of his weapon, an equally faint little wreath of diaphanous vapour leapt from its muzzle, and the leopard sprang high into the air—startling the gazelles and putting them to instant flight—ere it fell back, rolled over, and lay motionless on the rocky platform along which it had been stealing.
“Good shot!” shouted Sir Reginald, from the open windows of the pilot-house, through which he had been watching the scene. “We had better drop to earth at once, if you wish to secure the skin. Vultures have a trick of appearing from nowhere in an incredibly short time, you know; and if we leave the skinning until we come back, there may be no skin left worth the taking.”
“Quite so; we must make sure of that skin at once, if we intend to have it at all. And we certainly must, for not only is it our first trophy this cruise, but it belongs to Ida by right of first discovery, and she must have it,” answered Lethbridge, who had quickly developed a quite remarkable affection for the child.
The Flying Fish was accordingly brought to earth at once on a tolerably level spot quite close to the carcase of the leopard, and the five men quickly left the ship by way of what was known as the “diving-chamber,” and the trap-door in the bottom of the craft, and forthwith proceeded to take the skin. It was found upon examination that the ex-colonel had made a really splendid shot, his bullet having struck the creature fair in the centre of the back of the skull, and passed out through the left eye.