It was a long and toilsome walk back, for the night had come on quickly,
and every now and then the roar of some beast of prey, or the crash of
some animal through the trees, was heard. But nothing interfered with
them; and when from time to time they halted for a few moments, the
General gladly made use of the strips torn by Jack from his handkerchief
and shirt to bind up the poor boy's bleeding wounds.
It seemed wonderful to Jack that strength and determination on the part
of the General, almost as wonderful as the unerring instinct with which
he made straight for the camp.
He did not speak once, but there was something exceedingly tender in the
way in which he tried to carry the wounded boy, so as not to cause him
pain; for he did not realise that poor Coffee was quite insensible to
suffering, and had not felt anything since he had been struck down.
At last, when Jack felt that he could no longer plant one leg before the
other, there was the bright glow of the fire at the little camp, where
they found Mr Rogers in a terrible state of uneasiness at their
prolonged absence.
The moment, however, he found what was wrong, his surgical skill, which
was not slight, was brought to bear, and the terrible gaping wounds of
the poor boy were sewn up and bandaged.
Read by the light of all that Jack had to tell, it was plain enough what
had befallen poor Coffee. He had been stalked, by the same lion
probably as that which Jack had shot. The monster had sprung upon him,
clawing his bare back and shoulder; and then, probably being surfeited
with devouring some unfortunate beast, he had left the boy, and had been
roused again by another intruder upon his domains, while, but for Jack's
rifle, poor Chicory would have shared his fate.
"But a' didn't kill Chick, Boss Jack. Boss Jack kill um, and Boss Jack
and Chick go and kill all a lion now, and not leave not one."
This was the next morning, when the events of the past night had been
talked over, and Mr Rogers had expressed a hope that the boy might
live.
But, as he told his sons, it was very doubtful, for he had been horribly
clawed by the lion, though fortunately upon his back. Had the creature
seized him in front, he must have lost his life.
All attempts at continuing the journey were of course put off, a
comfortable bed being made up for Coffee where he would feel the cooling
breeze and be sheltered from the sun, while his father took his place by
him, and sat and kept the bandages over the wounds wet and cool.
It was Chicory who proposed that the lion's skin should be fetched in;
and after a promise to be careful, the boys started off, taking with
them Peter to skin the lion, Mr Rogers feeling that he could not leave,
with Coffee in such a state. In fact he hesitated about letting his
sons go, after such a shock, though he could not help feeling that they
were beginning to display a courage and decision that was most
praiseworthy, especially as it was linked with so much self-denial.
"But the skin would be such a trophy, father," said Jack. "I should
like to have it."
"Go and get it, then," said Mr Rogers; "but don't stop. You may as
well shoot a few birds, though, or any small bok, if you can. We must
make our beef-tea of venison, Dinny says," he added with a smile, "for
the invalid must have plenty of support."
Jack went to have a look at poor Coffee as he lay there insensible, and
softly placed his cool hand upon the poor boy's burning head.
Then he started, for, to his surprise, the General was at his feet with
his arms round his legs, and embracing them closely.
He did not understand it then, but the Zulu was swearing fidelity, and
to lay down his life for him who had saved, as he felt, both his boys.
Just then there was a yelping and baying amongst the dogs, a snarling
noise, and Dinny's voice heard shouting--when Jack ran out, just in time
to see something yellowish and spotted rush among the trees, sending the
oxen into a terrible state of excitement, and making the horses gallop
up to the waggon for protection.
Mr Rogers was out in the open with a gun--but it was too late, there
was nothing to shoot, and the dogs, which had been off after the animal,
came trotting back.
"What was it, Dinny?" said Mr Rogers.
"Sure, sor, an' it was a great big yellow tom cat, wid splashes like
brown gravy all over his dirthy body; an' he came sneaking out of the
wood and made a pounce on Rough'un there; but the dog was too quick for
him, an' run bechuckst the big waggon-wheels, an' thin I threw a pot at
him and aff he went, and the dogs after him."
"How big was it, Dinny?" cried Dick excitedly.
"About as big as ten tom cats, Masther Dick, if they was all biled down
and made into one."
"Get along," cried Dick. "What would it be, father--a leopard?"
"Yes, my boy, undoubtedly. They are very fond of dogs, and will dash
under the waggons sometimes after one. Rough'un has had a narrow
escape. We must look out, for the creature may come again."
It was a long walk to the glade where the lion was shot, but they killed
a couple of the dangerous puff-adders, and shot three or four beautiful
birds, besides bringing down a small gazelle, which they protected with
sticks to keep off the vultures. But the most interesting part of their
journey was during the first mile of their way. They had all separated
so as to look out for game, and were crossing a patch of dense dried-up
yellow grass where they expected to spring a large bird or two, when,
all at once, something of a rich yellow and brown darted out before
Dick, leaving one clump to make for another, closely followed by a
little dun-coloured animal, evidently its young.
Dick's rifle was to his shoulder on the instant, and a bullet through
the animal laid it low, while the young one leaped upon it, and turned
and snarled, and spat at its mother's slayer.
"Why it's the leopard that came after poor Rough'un, I'll be bound,"
cried Jack, coming up. "It has got a young one, and that's what made it
so daring. Hullo, little chap! We'll take you back for a pet."
But the young leopard was already in a pet, and it scratched, and swore,
and behaved so cat-like, that it was no easy task to secure it. This,
however, was done in a strong game-bag, which was hung in a tree while
the mother was skinned for the sake of her beautiful hide.
As they neared the place where Jack's lion lay, Dick drew his brother's
attention to the vultures that were winging their way overhead.
"You'll see if they haven't been at your lion," he said.
He proved a true prophet, for as they drew near the glade--Jack feeling
a strange chill of horror as he recalled the last night's adventure--
first one and then another vulture flew up, and when Chicory made a dash
forward they rose in a cloud.
"Your skin's spoiled, Jack," said his brother.
But he was wrong, for the vultures had found two assegais leaning
against a bush, and looking so ominous with their bright blades where
the General had left them, that they had not dared to touch the lion,
and the consequence was that a magnificent skin was obtained, one that
proved to be no light load for Peter and Chicory, who carried it
swinging from a pole resting upon their shoulders.
The load was increased as they picked up the skin of the leopard, while
the boys carried the game.
The young leopard proved to be quite safe in the game-bag, which formed
a comfortable hammock for it as it hung in a tree, but no sooner was it
swung from Jack's shoulder, and felt the motion of the walker, than it
became furious, spitting and tearing, and trying to get out.
One way and another they were so loaded that the sight of the waggon
proved very welcome, and all were only too glad to partake of a good
basin of what Mr Rogers called "Dinny's restorative," namely the rich
thick venison soup always stewing in the great pot, and being added to
every day.
And it was wonderful how invigorating this rich meat essence proved. No
matter how weary they were, a basin of it could be enjoyed, and its
effect seemed to be almost instantaneous.
After a good dinner in the shade of the big tree by the waggon, both
Jack and Dick had another look at poor Coffee, to find that he slept a
good deal, and quite easily, Mr Rogers saying that he was less
feverish.
"Well, boys, what do you think of the medicine-chest now? Was I not
right in being prepared for emergencies?"
The boys agreed that it was right, and hoped all the same that they
would never have to make any demands upon it, either for doses or lint
and plaister--invaluable in poor Coffee's case now.
Then the lion's skin was admired, and laid out to dry. The leopard's
followed, and was greatly praised by Mr Rogers; and indeed it was
beautiful in the harmony of its brown and creamy-yellow tints.
"Bedad and that's the very baste," cried Dinny. "I know him by that
spot at the back of his left ear, and the payculiar twisht of his tail."
"Now, Dinny," said Dick, "how could you tell it again when you saw it
for a moment only."
"An' d'ye think it takes half-an-hour for one of me eyes to catch soight
of a craythure like that, Masther Dick? Sure I knowed it the moment I
set oise upon it as the very same baste."
"Then you must have excellent eyesight, Dinny," said Mr Rogers.
"Sure an' I have that same, sor," said Dinny proudly, as the boys next
brought out the young leopard, which had to be held pretty tightly by
the back of the neck to keep it from taking its departure, while the
dogs gathered round muttering growls, and longing to take revenge upon
the young leopard for the insult put upon them that morning by the
mother.
"I think Dinny's right, boys," said Mr Rogers, as he looked at the
clumsy young leopard, which had a peculiarly heavy kittenish aspect. "I
should say it was undoubtedly the mother that dashed in after the dogs,
her young one making her the more daring."
"Sure an' I knew I was right," said Dinny complacently. "It was an
avil-looking baste, in spite of its foine skin."
"What are you going to do with the leopard?" said Mr Rogers.
"Keep it, of course, father," said Jack.
"I don't see any, `of course,'" he replied, smiling; "but try and keep
it if you can, though I'm afraid you will find it an awkward customer to
tame."
"Well, let us try," said Jack; and setting to work he soon contrived a
collar of stout wire, which was wrapped round and round with thin
leather, a dog-chain attached, and then the dogs were called by Dick.
"I say, what are you going to do?" cried his brother; "they'll kill the
poor little thing."
"Oh no, they will not," said Dick confidently. "I'm going to give them
a lesson."
The dogs came bounding up, having been driven away during the
manufacture of the collar; and now, evidently under the impression that
they were to kill the young leopard, they became in a high state of
excitement.
"Oh, Dick!" cried Jack. "Mind what you are about."
"Down, down, down!" cried Dick sternly; and the dogs all crouched,
awaiting the order to attack. "Now, Rough'un, smell him."
Rough'un sprang up, and Pompey, Caesar, and Crassus made a rush; but a
tap each from the stick Dick held stopped them, and laying hold of
Rough'un's ear, Dick pushed the dog's nose close to the vicious-looking
little leopard.
"Now, sir, you're not to touch him; do you hear?"
Rough'un evidently heard, and after smelling at the little animal, he
looked up in a puzzled way at his master.
"Lie down, sir," said Dick, and the dog obeyed. "Now, dogs! Pomp,
Caesar, Cras, old boy."
There was a volley of barks here, and the dogs evidently thought that
their time had come; but a few stern words and a sharp tap or two from
the stick made them perfectly obedient, and they contented themselves
with sniffing at the little animal, which, on its part, finding that it
was not molested by the dogs, left off its angry demonstrations, gave
each one a gentle dab on the nose, and then rolled upon its back and
began to play.
The dogs looked more puzzled than before, Crassus uttering a loud whine
and giving his strong jaws a snap; but just then Rough'un accepted the
invitation to play, and began to pat and push the little animal, which
responded at once by rushing off and dashing back, rolling over, biting
playfully, and in less than a minute he and the young leopard were
leaping one over the other and gambolling as eagerly as if they were the
oldest of friends.
Pompey also played a little, and Caesar and Crassus looked tolerantly
on, but they did not join in themselves, beyond smelling the leopard a
few times over. Still there was no fear of their molesting the little
captive, which was tied up to a wheel of the waggon, and from that time
became one of the occupants of the camp.