Of course my companion and I kept our places in the top of the tree; we
could not do otherwise. Had we attempted to come down it would only
have been to fling ourselves right into the jaws of the lion--who lay at
just such a distance from the trunk that he could have reached us by a
single bound, the moment we set foot upon the earth. There he lay or
rather squatted, like a cat; though at intervals he rose and stretched
his body into a crouching attitude, and lashed his sides with his tufted
tail, and showed his teeth, and roared angrily. Then for some moments
he would lie down again and lick his wounded paw--still growling while
he did so, as though he was vowing revenge for the injury!
When he saw that he had ceased to attempt climbing the tree, we were in
hopes he would get tired of the attack and go off altogether. But those
hopes gradually forsook us, as we observed the pertinacity with which he
still continued to watch us. If either of us made a motion among the
branches, he would instantly spring to his feet--as though he fancied we
were about to descend and was determined to intercept us. This, of
itself, proved that he had not the slightest intention of moving off
from the ground, and convinced us that the siege was not to be raised
with the consent of the besieger.
We began to grow exceedingly apprehensive about our situation. Hitherto
we had been terrified by the sudden attack of the lion, but these
moments of terror were short-lived, and, on account of the excitement
which accompanied them, we had neither time to reflect nor suffer; we
had not time to feel despair, and in fact had not despaired of safety,
even while the lion was using all his efforts to reach us, for we had
the belief that he could not get up.
Now, however, a new danger threatened us. Though we felt quite secure
in our "roost" we could not remain there long. It was by no means
comfortable, straddling the naked branch of a tree; but the comfort was
a small consideration. We were both used to riding such a stock-horse,
and as for Brace, he could have gone to sleep with only the
flying-jib-boom between his legs, so that it was not the discomfort we
cared about. There was something more serious than this to reflect
upon, and that was the prospect of being afflicted by hunger and thirst.
I need not say the prospect. As for hunger, we were not yet suffering
for want of food; but already the sister appetite had begun to be felt,
and keenly too. We had not tasted water since leaving the river, and
any one who has ever made a march under the tropical sun of Africa knows
that at every half-mile you feel the desire to drink. Both of us had
been thirsty almost since the moment we parted with the boat, and I had
been looking out for water ever since. We blamed ourselves for not
having brought with us a canteen, or water-bottle, and we already paid
for our negligence, or rather our ignorance--for it never entered into
our minds that such a provision would be necessary, any more than if we
had gone out for a day's fowling into the fields about home.
We had already been suffering from thirst, but now that we sat upon
those bare branches, with not a bit of shade to screen us from the
fierce rays of a noon-day's sun--and a hot tropical sun at that--we
began to feel the pangs of thirst in right earnest, and in a way I had
never felt them before. Indeed, it was a most painful sensation, and I
thought if it was to increase, or even continue much longer, it would
kill me. My companion suffered also, though not so badly as I. He was
more used to such extremities, and could better bear them.
Perhaps had we been actually engaged in some work we should not have
felt this misery so keenly; but we had nothing to do but balance our
bodies upon the branches and calmly reflect. So much the worse. We
were able to comprehend our situation, and fully understand its perilous
nature.
The prospect was far from cheering. Out of the tree we dared not go,
else we should be eaten up by the lion. If we remained in the tree, we
should become the victims either of thirst or hunger, or both.
How were we to be relieved from this terrible alternative? Would the
lion grow wearied with watching us, and wander away? There was not the
least likelihood he would do so. All his movements indicated an
opposite intention; and for our consolation, I now remembered having
read of the implacable nature of this fierce brute when wounded or
provoked--so far different from the generous disposition usually
ascribed to him, and which certainly he often displays when not
molested, or perhaps when not hungry.
Whether our lion was hungry or not, we had no means of judging; but we
knew he had been molested, and roughly handled too; his revengeful
feelings had been roused to their highest pitch; and, therefore,
whatever of vengeance was in his nature would now be exhibited. Beyond
a doubt his ire was not going to cool down in a hurry. We might wait a
long while before he would feel inclined to forgiveness. We had no hope
from his mercy. Perhaps the night might produce a change. On this
alone we rested our hopes.
We never speculated on being rescued by any of our companions from the
_Pandora_. Though Brace had friends among them, they were not the sort
of friends to trouble themselves much about what became of him. They
might make a show of search, but there were twenty ways they could go,
without hitting on the right one; and to find any one among these
limitless forests would be a mere act of chance. We had not much hope
of being rescued by them.
What little hope we had from this source rested upon a singular belief.
My companion suggested that the _Pandora's_ people, on finding we did
not return at night, might fancy we had deserted. In that case it was
probable enough we might be searched for, and with sufficient zeal to
ensure our being found!
This was a singular conjecture, and both of us wished it might prove a
correct one. Under this contingency there was a better prospect of our
being relieved.
By this time our thirst had become oppressive. Our throats were parched
as though we had swallowed red-pepper, and our tongues could not produce
the slightest moisture. Even the natural saliva had ceased to flow.
While suffering thus, an idea occurred to my companion: I saw him with
his knife make an incision in the bark of one of the branches. The
point that had first led us to approach the great tree was now decided.
Red sap flowed from the wound:--it was the "dragons'-blood!"
In hopes of getting relief from this source, we both moistened our lips
with the crimson-juice, and swallowed it as fast as it oozed out. Had
we been better acquainted with the medical botany we should have let
this liquor alone, for the dragons'-blood is one of the most noted of
astringents. Alas! we soon discovered its qualities by experiment. In
five minutes after, our tongues felt as if vitriol had been poured upon
them, and our thirst increased to a degree of violence and fierceness
that could no longer be borne. Deeply did we now repent what we had
done; deeply did we rue the tasting of that blood-like sap. We might
have endured for days, had we not swallowed those crimson drops; but
already were we suffering as if days had passed since we had tasted
water!
Our thirst had suddenly increased, and still kept increasing, until the
agony we endured was positively excruciating. I cannot describe it.
Some idea may be had of its terrible nature when I assert that we
actually talked of descending from the tree, and risking our lives in a
knife-conflict with the lion, rather than endure it longer!