Her eyes seemed to gleam with fury as she looked into his. Oh, the agony of that moment, as, bleeding and impotent, his head pressed against her shaggy neck, he was dragged up the bank, bodily, the sharp fangs meeting in the flesh of the shoulder. Reaching the open, the great brute for an instant relaxed her hold, probably only to secure a firmer grip, and the unfortunate hunter fell to the ground. Placing her huge paw on the prostrate man’s breast, she looked upwards and growled savagely. The sharp ring of a heavy rifle seemed to mix with the voice of the lioness, and a stream of warm blood deluged the face and breast of the fallen hunter, as the whole weight of the dying animal fell upon and almost crushed him, while consciousness, for the first time in his life, departed.
“Her head was within a foot of you when I fired,” were the first words which greeted his ears as he revived, and saw a stranger standing beside him, endeavouring to drag away the carcass. The cubs had bolted precipitately at the first shot, and presently Luji, who had heard the double report, coming cautiously up, the hunter was freed from the weight of the dead animal, a hole was scooped in the sandy bed of the nullah, some fresh water procured, and, some hours afterwards, the two who had thus strangely met were comfortably seated outside the little tent on the forks of the Limpolulo, discussing the eland and mealie stew which had been prepared for dinner.
“A curious situation for you, a missionary, to be in,” said Hughes, continuing a conversation which the process of dinner-eating had interrupted.
“Curious enough, and not a very pleasant one,” returned the new comer. “I was returning from the country of the Matlokotlopo, where I had been to find the chief Mozelkatse, without whose permission I knew it would be useless for me to attempt penetrating further.”
This new comer was of German origin, though his name smacked more of Polish or Hungarian ancestry. He was a man evidently past his prime, and his spare muscular frame, his dark hair slightly flecked here and there with grey, his sunken cheeks and high cheek-bones, told of years of care, hardship, and, perhaps, of dangers bravely faced; while the bright, black, restless eyes, the broad, high forehead, the finely chiselled lines of the mouth, and the firm erect carriage, promised intellectual intelligence, combined with a determined spirit, well calculated to cope with the chances of a life such as he was evidently leading.
“Is this, like my own, your first trial of life on the plains of South Africa? If so we have begun well,” asked Hughes.
“Oh, I could tell you of many a tale of life among the savages of the Pacific, and of years passed with the hardly more civilised tribes of North-Western India, and my very object here shows that I am not at my maiden essay,” replied Wyzinski, laughing. “Shall I tell you the history of the land, and my own views at the same time?”
“Let us light our pipes first, and have some more wood thrown on the fire. Hallo what’s all that?” said Hughes, laughing.
What was it, indeed? for on the evening breeze there came sounds of talking and laughter, and soon, over the plain, streamed the missionary’s followers, at once swelling the party to fourteen. With them were Luji and the carcasses of the lioness and the koodoo, flung across a horse, and as evening drew on there was high feasting in the camp on the forks of the Limpolulo. Meat was plentiful, and the new comers gorged themselves with it, singing, laughing, and dancing round the camp fires. The lioness was skinned, and its hide stretched out on the branches of a tree; the stars came out, and as they did so the plains around woke into life. The cries of the jackals, the hyenas, and the deer, came on the night air, and once or twice, too, a far away low rumble told of the lion in the distant mountains, seeking, perhaps, his dead mate. The air was warm and pleasant, as, reclining by the fire in front of the tent, Hughes and the missionary talked on far into the night.