As the Flying Fish rose into the air, the occupants of her pilot-house levelled their powerful binoculars upon the margin of the lake, and almost immediately Lethbridge cried out—
“I see him! There he is, away to the left, proudly mounting guard over his spoils. Starboard your helm a trifle, Elphinstone. So; steady as you go. Do you see him?”
“Ay,” said Sir Reginald, “I see him now,” as he again raised his glasses to his eyes. “And, by Jove, he seems to be busy too. Surely he is using his rifle, isn’t he?”
“He seems to be,” observed Sziszkinski. “Yes; he is down on one knee, aiming at something. Ha! look at that! Lucky man! he is getting all the sport. Surely that was a lion that sprang into the air and fell back among the rushes!”
Chapter Thirteen.
In the Heart of the Great African Forest.
As the Flying Fish settled down quite close to the spot where the carcases of the four unicorns were lying, von Schalckenberg waved his hand and shouted to the little group on deck—
“Ach! my friends, I am glad to see you. Unicorns’ flesh must be an especially choice morsel with the carnivora in this part of the country, for I have been literally beset since Mildmay left me. I have had no fewer than three lions, one leopard, and a whole pack of wild dogs disputing with me the possession of these carcases.”