“Neither the purser nor I had ever seen a wild elephant before, and we had no wish for a nearer inspection; so, leaving our slaughtered ducks to their fate, we took to our heels and never stopped until we reached a place of safety.”
“Well, you certainly did not show a bold front on that occasion,” laughed the Major.
“No, indeed,” rejoined his friend. “But I can assure you that few men could have presented a broader back than did the gallant purser; and it has always been a mystery to me how a man of his rotundity got over the ground at such a wonderful pace. He beat me by a good fifty yards. Now who is going to take first watch?”
“Black William is first on the roster, sorr, and I shall relave him,” answered Patrick Keown; and the Hottentot having been duly posted, the others lay down before the camp fire and were soon wrapped in sleep—sleep—
“The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath,
Great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast!”
Chapter Eight.
Tom gives the Alarm—Rifle versus Assegai—Triumph of the White Man!—“Kicking Jan” outkicks himself—A Catastrophe—Arrival at Ralfontein.
The night passed away quietly and day dawned with all the splendour of a South African morning. By five o’clock the little camp was astir, and our friends, having first enjoyed a refreshing dip in the clear pool at the foot of the hill, hastened to prepare breakfast; whilst Patrick Keown and his sable ally busied themselves making ready for the day’s journey.