"Naylor--Giovanni--help! help!" cried Brazier. "What have I done?"
As in a voice full of agony Brazier uttered these words, the dense smoke
from the gun which had hidden Rob for the moment slowly rose and showed
the lad lying motionless upon the earth. Shaddy rushed up, dropped upon
one knee and raised the boy's head, while with his keen knife held
across his mouth he looked sharply round for the South American lion,
ready to meet its attack.
But the animal was not visible, and it was directly after forgotten in
the excitement centred on Rob.
"Tear off his clothes! Where is he wounded? No doctor! Run to the
boat for that little case of mine. Here, let me come."
These words were uttered by Brazier with frantic haste, and directly
after he uttered a cry of horror and pointed to Rob's forehead close up
amongst the hair, where a little thread of blood began to ooze forth.
"That ain't a shot wound," growled Shaddy. "Hi! One of you get some
water."
One of the boatmen, who had hurried up, ran back toward the stream, and
just then Rob opened his lips said peevishly,--
"Don't! Leave off! Will you be quiet? Eh! What's the matter?"
As he spoke he thrust Brazier's hand from his head, opened his eyes and
looked round.
"What are you doing?" he cried wonderingly.
"Lower him down, Naylor," whispered Brazier hoarsely; and Shaddy was in
the act of obeying, but Rob started up into a sitting position, and then
sprang to his feet.
"What are you doing, Shaddy?" he cried angrily, as he clapped his hand
to his brow, withdrew it, and looked at the stained fingers. "What's
the matter with my head?"
He threw it back as he spoke, shook it, and then, as if the mist which
troubled his brain had floated away like the smoke from Brazier's gun,
he cried:
"I know; I remember. Oh! I say, Mr Brazier, you haven't shot that
poor cat?"
"Rob, my boy, pray, pray, pray lie down till we have examined your
injuries."
"Nonsense! I'm not hurt," cried the lad--"only knocked my head on a
stump. I remember now: I caught my right foot in one of those canes,
and pitched forward. Where's the cat?"
He looked round sharply.
"Never mind the wretched beast," cried Brazier. "Tell me, boy: you were
not hit?"
"But I do mind," cried Rob. "I wouldn't have had that poor thing shot
on any account."
"Are you hurt?" cried Brazier, almost angrily.
"Of course I am, sir. You can't pitch head first on to a stump without
hurting yourself. I say, did you hit the cat?"
"Then you were not shot?" cried Brazier.
"Shot? No! Who said I was?"
"Ourai!" shouted the young Italian, with the best imitation he could
give of an English hurrah.
"Then I have frightened myself almost to death for nothing," cried
Brazier. "How dare you pretend that you were shot!"
"I didn't," cried Rob angrily, for his smarting head exacerbated his
temper. "I never pretended anything. I couldn't help tumbling. You
shouldn't have fired."
"There, hold your tongue, Mr Rob, sir. It's all right, and instead of
you and the guv'nor here getting up a row, it strikes me as you ought
both to go down on your knees and be very thankful. A few inches more
one way or t'other, and this here expedition would have been all over,
and us going back as mizzable men as ever stepped."
The guide's words were uttered in so solemn and forcible a way that
Brazier took a step or two forward and caught his hand, pressing it
firmly as he looked him full in the eyes.
Brazier was silent for a few moments, and then, in a voice rendered
husky by emotion, he said,--
"You are quite right, Naylor. Thank you, my man, for the lesson. I
deserve all you have said, and yet I am thankful at heart for the--"
He did not finish his words, but dropped Shaddy's hand, and then turned
to Rob and laid his hand upon the boy's shoulder.
"Come to the boat, Rob," he said. "I'll sponge and strap up that little
cut. Naylor spoke truly. We have much to be thankful for. I ought not
to have spoken so harshly to you."
"Nor I to have been so cross, sir. It was my head hurt me, and made me
speak shortly."
"Say no more now, boy. Come and let me play surgeon."
"What, for this?" cried Rob, laughing. "It's only a scratch, sir, and
doesn't matter a bit."
But Brazier insisted, and soon after Rob's forehead was ornamented with
a strip of diachylon plaster, and the injury forgotten.
The men soon prepared a meal, and the rest of the day was spent in
preparing the deer meat to keep in store; the effect of the hot sun
being wonderful, the heat drying up the juices and checking the
decomposition that might have been expected to succeed its exposure.
But it in no case improved the appearance of the boat.
Toward evening Brazier did a little collecting, helped by the boys, and
later on the latter fished from the boat, with no small success, so that
there was no fear of the stores being placed too much under contribution
for some days to come.
The fishing was brought to a close, and their captives hung over the
side in a great bag composed of net, so that they could be kept alive
ready for use when required; and this done, Rob turned to Giovanni.
"Come ashore, Joe," he said.
Brazier looked up sharply from where he was taking notes and numbering
his dried specimens of plants.
"Where are you going?" he said.
"Only to have a bit of a wander ashore," replied Rob.
"No, no; be content with your day's work. We shall have some supper
soon, and then turn in for a long night's rest. Besides, I don't care
for you to go alone."
"Very well, sir," said Rob quietly; "only we couldn't go far and be
lost. Shall we take Shaddy with us?"
"No; I wish you to stay in the boat this evening, and I'm going to call
the men on board as soon as they have well made up the fire. There are
savage beasts about, and we don't want more trouble than we can help."
Rob looked disappointed, but he said nothing, and went right forward to
where Shaddy was busy washing out one of the guns; and there the two
lads sat, gazing across the green surface of lily leaves, watching the
birds which ran to and fro, the gorgeous colouring of the sky, and the
many tints reflected by the water where the stream ran winding through.
Then, too, there were splashings and plungings of heavy fish, beasts,
and reptiles to note, and very little to see, for by the time they had
made out the spot where the splash had been made, there was nothing
visible but the heaving of the great lily leaves and a curious motion of
their edges, which were tilted up by the moving creatures stirring
amidst the stems.
"Head hurt?" said Joe at last, after a long silence, broken only by the
grunts of Shaddy as he rubbed and polished away at the gun-barrel, so as
to remove the last trace of damp.
"Hurt? No. Only smarts a bit," replied Rob.
"Why did you want to go ashore again?"
There was no reply.
"I didn't; I was too tired. Don't care for much walking in the hot sun.
Did you want to shoot?"
"No. Wanted to see whether Mr Brazier had shot that poor cat."
"Poor cat!" said Joe, derisively: "I wonder whether a mouse calls his
enemy a poor cat. Why, the brute could have taken you and shaken you
like a rat, and carried you off in its jaws."
"Who says so?" retorted Rob, rather warmly.
"I do."
"And how do you know you were right?"
"Well, of course I can't tell whether I'm right," said Joe, "only that's
what lions and tigers do."
"Seemed as if it was going to, didn't it?" said Rob, who was now growing
warm in the defence of the animal. "Why, it was as tame as tame, and
I'm going ashore first thing to-morrow morning to track it out and find
where it lay down to die. I want its skin, to keep in memory of the
poor thing. It was as tame as a great dog."
"Won't be very tame 'morrow morning if you find it not dead," growled
Shaddy.
"Then you don't think it is dead, Shaddy?" cried Rob eagerly.
"Can't say nothing about it, my lad. All I know is that Mr Brazier
fired two barrels at it, and as the shots didn't hit you they must have
hit the lion."
"Don't follow," said Rob, with a short laugh. "Couldn't they have hit
the ground?"
Shaddy rubbed his head with the barrel of the gun he was oiling, and
that view of the question took a long time to decide, while the boys
smiled at each other and watched him.
"Well," said Shaddy at last, "p'raps you're right, Master Rob. If the
shots didn't hit the lion they might have hit the ground."
"And you did not find the animal, nor see any blood?"
"Never looked for neither, my lad. But, tell you what: if you do want
his skin I'll go with you in the morning and track him down. I expect
we shall find him lying dead, for Mr Brazier's a wonderful shot."
"And not likely to miss," said Rob sadly. "But I should like its skin,
Shaddy."
"And you shall have it, sir, if he's dead. If he isn't he has p'raps
carried it miles away into the woods, and there's no following him
there."
Rob gazed wistfully across the opening now beginning to look gloomy, and
his eyes rested on the figures of the boatmen who were busily piling up
great pieces of dead wood to keep up the fire for the night, the
principal objects being to scare away animals, and have a supply of hot
embers in the morning ready for cooking purposes. And as the fire
glowed and the shadows of evening came on, the figures of the men stood
out as if made of bronze, till they had done and came down to the boat.
An hour later the men were on board, the rope paid out so that they were
a dozen yards from the shore, where a little grapnel had been dropped to
hold the boat from drifting in, and once more Rob lay beneath the awning
watching the glow of the fire as it lit up the canvas, which was light
and dark in patches as it was free from burden or laden with the objects
spread upon it to dry. From the forest and lake came the chorus to
which he was growing accustomed; and as the lad looked out through the
open end of the tent--an arrangement which seemed that night as if it
did nothing but keep out the comparatively cool night air--he could see
one great planet slowly rising and peering in. Then, all at once, there
was dead silence. The nocturnal chorus, with all its weird shrieks and
cries, ceased as if by magic, and the darkness was intense.
That is, to Rob: for the simple reason that he had dropped asleep.