That day, for the first time, they planned to be alone together on the march. With feet made languid by excess of joy they lingered whenever a locality of more than usual beauty was reached. At midday Fourie, who had got somewhat far ahead, was wondering at their laggardness.
A distant shot, followed by two others in quick succession, recalled them to practical realities, so they hurried forward on the spoor. When they reached Fourie he was sitting under a tree regarding with satisfaction a large lion he had shot, and which three Baiala were engaged in skinning. Tied to a shrub close by were two young lion-cubs.
“See, Anna, what I have caught,” cried he; “have a look at the little brutes before I kill them.”
“No, no,” said the girl, “they are too young to kill. Let them go. Where is their mother?”
“That is what I cannot understand; I have never heard of such young cubs being left behind by their mother. But I’m not going to let them go, perhaps to kill some one, as my father was killed.”
The girls soul revolted from the idea of slaughtering these innocents. So full of new-found happiness was she that the taking of life or the infliction of pain was abhorrent. But she knew her father’s implacable hatred of the whole lion race.
“Let me take them back to the camp,” she begged; “I will tame them.”
After advancing many objections Fourie gave a grudging consent. The little animals could be fed on soup until the camp was reached, then on meal and water. They were evidently only a week or ten days old, and resembled yellow cats with abnormally large, solemn faces. They showed no vice when handled, and seemed quite contented with their lot. The girl carried one and the boy the other, the three Baiala being unable to do more than carry the skin of the animal just killed.
The halting-place for the night was an open, circular space surrounded by high trees. The boughs met overhead; it looked like a green-domed temple. The ground was almost clear of brushwood. In the centre the fire was lit. The river was only about two hundred yards distant. Supper was over, and the cubs, being hungry, were complaining in queer, guttural tones. They had been coupled together by means of a rein, the loop of which was fastened to a protruding root.
The boy took the only cooking utensil and started, a live firebrand in one hand and his rifle in the other, for the river to fetch water for the soup. When he reached the fringe of low bushes which surrounded the camping-place he stopped for an instant and looked back. Fourie had removed the block from his rifle and sat oiling it near the fire. The girl was bending over the cubs, trying to soothe their impatience. She looked after the boy with a smile. His last sight of her face showed it lit by the flickering flame and radiant with an aura of love and happiness.