To the boy one thing seemed certain, and that was that they approached nearer and nearer. Kali perceived likewise that the lions ran about the encampment making a smaller circle each moment, and that, prevented from making an attack only by the glare of the flames, they were expressing their dissatisfaction and fear by their roar.
Evidently, however, he thought that danger threatened only the horses, as, spreading his fingers, he said:
"The lions will kill one, two, not all! not all!"
"Throw wood into the fire," repeated Stas.
A livelier flame burst forth; the roars suddenly ceased. But Kali, raising his head and gazing upwards, began to listen.
"What is it?" Stas asked.
"Rain," replied the negro.
Stas in turn listened. The branches of the tree mantled the tent and the whole zareba so that not a drop of rain fell upon the ground, but above could be heard the rustle of leaves. As the sultry air was not stirred by the slightest breeze, it was easy to surmise that it was the rain which began to murmur in the jungle.
The rustle increased with each moment and after a time the children saw drops flowing from the leaves, similar in the luster of the fire to ruddy pearls. As Kali had forecast, a downpour began. The rustle changed into a roar. Ever-increasing drops fell, and finally through the dense foliage whole streams of water began to penetrate.
The camp-fire darkened. In vain Kali threw whole armfuls into it. On the surface the wet boughs smoked only, and below, the burning wood began to hiss and the flame, however much it was replenished, began to be extinguished.