Stasch learned from Kali that before the beginning of the second rainy season—that is in autumn—it is dangerous to spend the night under these palms, because the huge fruit ripens, breaks off when least expected, and falls from its great height with such force that it might kill a human being, or even a horse. But at the present time the fruit had not matured. Before the sun went down little monkeys could be seen in the distance scrambling and playfully chasing one another in the tree-tops.
Stasch and Kali collected a sufficient quantity of wood for the night, and as occasional heavy waves of hot air blew toward them, they fastened down the hedge with pegs, which the young negro whittled with Gebhr’s sword, and drove into the ground. This precaution was very necessary, for the strong wind might break and tear down the thorn branches out of which the hedge was made, and thus make it easy for wild animals to attack them.
Soon after the sun went down the wind stopped suddenly, but on the other hand the air had become heavy and sultry. In the spaces between the clouds stars appeared occasionally, but later complete darkness settled down, so that one could hardly see a foot in advance. The little wanderers grouped themselves around the fire and listened to the chatter and screams of the monkeys, which were making a perfect pandemonium. In the neighboring woods the howls of the jackals and other strange sounds—through which could be heard the restlessness and the fear of that which under the veil of darkness in the wilderness threatens every human being—united to form an appropriate accompaniment.
Suddenly the stillness became intense, and in the darkness the growl of a lion was heard.
The horses, which were grazing nearby in the short jungle grass, began to approach the light of the fire by hopping with their chained front feet, and even then the hair of Saba, who was usually so courageous, bristled, and he crouched in front of his master with his tail drawn down, obviously seeking protection. The growl sounded again, this time as if coming from the bowels of the earth; it was a deep, heavy, long-drawn sigh, as if the animal had let it out of its powerful lungs with difficulty. The sound rolled on glidingly close to the ground, sometimes louder, sometimes softer, then becoming a deep, hollow, unearthly sigh.
“Kali, put more wood on the fire,” cried Stasch.
The negro threw an armful of branches on the fire with such haste and force that at first nothing but sparks ascended; then the flame blazed forth.
“The lion will not attack us, will he, Stasch?” whispered Nell, pulling the boy by the sleeve.
“No, he will not attack us. Look how high the hedge is——”
As he said this he positively thought that they were in no danger, but still he was worried about the horses, which pressed nearer and nearer the hedge and threatened to tread it down.