I thought my last hour had come.
But, help was at hand.
As I gasped and struggled frantically with the ferocious monster, feeling my strength ebbing away so fast that I had hardly power enough to protect my face from the brute’s cruel claws, I heard a hoarse shout and a rapid footstep near me crunching on the ground.
Then.
‘Bang!’ came, the report of a rifle close to my ear, and the baboon’s bloody body fell back on top of me, the beast having been shot as dead as a herring.
“Lor’, Tom,” exclaimed Larrikins, hauling away the carcass of the baboon, which I subsequently learnt was a species of the mandrill, common in the north-eastern and central parts of Africa, “I wer’ only in the nick o’ time! Why didn’t yer call out, chummy?”
“How could I, Larry?” said I, after he had put his water-bottle to my mouth and brought me round a bit, so that I was able to sit up and speak. “The beast had me round the neck and I couldn’t have shouted or even whispered to save my life.”
“Well, ye wouldn’t ’a saved it, me joker, if I hadn’t missed yer all of a suddink,” replied Larrikins, grinning; for I believe he could not have helped laughing, his disposition was so humorous, if a fellow had told him his father was dead! “I wer’ a-wondering where yer wer’, Tom, when I see’d a troop of big black monkeys makin’ fur this very grove where we is. Wonderin’ if they was them beasts that Swahili chap told us on, I follered ’em up; and then, all at onst, I see’d ye, Tom, a-strugglin’ with that beast theer, and I comes up at the double and puts my rifle inter his ear and blows his bloomin’ brains out, jest as ye was well-nigh spent, me joker.”
“Thank you, Larry,” said I; “you’ve saved my life.”
“All right,” he replied jokingly, pulling me up and rubbing me down, helping to arrange my tattered jumper and trousers, which that devil of a baboon had nearly torn to pieces; his bites, luckily for me, not being as bad as they had seemed, now that the blood was rubbed off. “I hopes, Tom, ye’ll remember me in yer will when ye’re dead, me joker!”