CHAPTER NINE.
A QUEER PREDICAMENT.
"Bravo! splendid!" panted Emson, as he and his brother met by the sideof the dead eland, upon whose flank Duke had mounted, and stood with hisred tongue out, too much run down to bark. "Why, Dyke, lad, how did youmanage it? Right through the shoulder. You couldn't have done betterat a stationary target."
"All chance," said the boy, panting as heavily as the dog; and loweringhimself off his nag, he loosened the girths, and then sank at fulllength upon the sand.
"Tired?"
"Thirsty," replied the boy.
"That you must bear, then, till I come back."
"Where are you going?"
"To fetch Jack and a span of bullocks. I won't be longer than I canhelp. Keep Duke with you, but don't leave the game. One moment: make afire, and cook yourself a steak."
"Stop and have some, Joe."
"No time," said Emson, and he strode away, leaving his brother alonewith the great antelope and his two dumb companions.
"Well, I didn't reckon upon this," said Dyke, as he lay upon his sidewatching his brother's figure grow slowly more distant, for he waswalking beside his horse, which hung its head, and kept giving its tailan uneasy twitch. "Not very cheerful to wait here hours upon hours; andhow does he know that I've got any matches? Fortunately I have."
There was a pause during which his cob gave itself a shake whichthreatened to send the saddle underneath it, an act which brought Dyketo his feet for the purposes of readjustment.
This done, and feeling not quite so breathless from exertion andexcitement, he walked round the great antelope.
"Well, it was all chance," he said to himself. "The first shot was anawful miss. Good job for us there was so much to shoot at. I couldhardly miss hitting that time. What a bit of luck, though. A big bitof luck, for we wanted the fresh meat very badly."
After scanning the goodly proportions of the animal for some time, itstruck the boy that he had not reloaded his rifled gun, and this heproceeded to do, opening the breech, taking out the empty brasscartridges, carefully saving them for refilling, and then putting hishand to the canvas pouch in which the cartridges were packed.
His hand stopped there, and, hot as he was, he felt a shiver passthrough him.
There was not a single cartridge left.
Dyke stood there, half-stunned.
Had he forgotten them? No, he had felt them since he started; but wherethey were now, who could say? All he could think was that they musthave been jerked out during the violent exertion of the ride.
How his heart leaped. They were in the leather pouch, which he hadslung from his shoulder by a strap, and the excitement had made himforget this. "What a good--"
That pouch was gone. The buckle of the strap had come unfastened, andit was lost, and there was he out in the middle of that plain, with thecarcass of the antelope to act as a bait to attract lions or otherfierce brutes, and he was without any means of defence but his knife andhis faithful dog.
The knife was sharp, so were Duke's teeth, but--
Dyke turned cold at the thought of his position, and involuntarily beganto sweep the plain for signs of danger, knowing, as he did full well,that beasts of prey always hang about the herds of wild creatures intheir migrations from feeding ground to feeding ground; the lions totreat the strong as their larder when on their way to water; the hyaenasand jackals to pick up the infirm and tender young. Then the boy's eyeswere directed to the distant figure of his brother, and his firstthought was to shout to him and ask for ammunition.
But no cry, however piercing, could have reached Emson then, as Dykewell knew, and acting upon sudden impulse, he ran to his horse totighten the girths of his saddle to gallop off after him.
"And if I do," he said to himself, "the minute I am gone, the sneakingjackals and vultures will appear as if by magic, and begin spoiling thebeautiful meat; Joe will laugh at me first for being a coward, and thenturn angry because I have left the eland for the animals to maul."
Dyke stood with his forehead puckered up, terribly perplexed. He didnot mind the anger, but the thought of Emson thinking that he was toocowardly to stop alone out there in the plain and keep watch for a fewhours was too much for him, and he rapidly loosened the girths again.
Then came the thought of a family of lions, which had perhaps beenunsuccessful, scenting out the eland, and coming up to find him in thatunprotected state.
It was horrible, and, with a shiver, he tightened up the girths, sprangupon the cob, pressed its sides, and went off after Emson at a gallop,followed by Duke, who barked joyously, as if applauding his master'sdecision.
Dyke felt lighter hearted and as if every stride took him out of danger,and he gave a glance round, saw dots here and there in the sky which heknew were vultures hurrying up to the banquet, and drawing his leftrein, he made Breezy swing round, and rode in a semicircle back to theeland with teeth set, a frown on his brow, and determination strong: forhe had mastered the feeling of panic that had assailed him, and thoughhe did not grasp the fact himself, he had made a grand stride in thosefew minutes toward manhood.
"Let 'em come," he said bitterly; "I won't run away like that. Why, Icould only have done this if a lion as big as that one we shot werealready here."
In another five minutes, with the dots in different parts around growingplainer, Dyke was back by the eland, and hobbling his horse's forefeet,he loosened the girths again with almost angry energy; then unstrappingthe bit, left the cob to crop such green shoots as it could find.
As the boy performed these acts, he could not help stealing a glancehere and there; and then standing on the eland, so as to raise himself alittle, he shaded his eyes and carefully swept the plain.
He could see distant patches, which he made out to be herds, graduallygrowing fainter, and several more dots in the sky, but no sign of dangerin the shape of lions; but he derived very little comfort from that, forhe knew well enough that the tawny-hided creatures would approach intheir crawling, cat-like fashion, and a dozen might be even then hiddenbehind the bushes, or flattened down in the sand, or dry, shrubbygrowth, with which their coats so assimilated as to make them invisibleto the most practised eye.
Dyke's teeth were pressed so hard together that they emitted a peculiargrinding sound with the exertion as he leaped down, and the dog lookedup in a puzzled way, and uttered an uneasy bark.
Dyke started. The dog must scent danger, he thought, and the nextglance was at Breezy, whose instinct would endorse the dog's knowledge;but the cob was blowing the insects off the tender shoots at everybreath, and browsing contentedly enough.
It was fancy. The great, foul birds were coming nearer, but Dyke knewthat he could keep a thousand of them away by flourishing his empty gun.
Then a sudden thought occurred to him, and he turned excitedly to thedog, taking off his canvas pouch the while, and shaking it.
"Hi, Duke! Hey there, good old boy! Lost--lost! Seek them! Good dog,then! Seek--seek! Lost!"
The dog barked excitedly, sniffed at the pouch, looked up at his master,whined and barked, sniffed again at the pouch, and finally, in answer toDyke's shouts and gestures, took another sharp sniff at the canvas, andbounded away, head down, and following the track made by the eland, thehorses, and his own feet.
"What an idiot I was not to think of that before!" said the boy tohimself. "He'll find it, as sure as sure."
Then he gave another glance round, to stand repentant as he followed thefigure of the retiring dog, and felt ready to call it back, for he wasincreasing the terrible loneliness by sending away his dumb friend, onewho would have instantly given him warning of the approach of danger.
Once more Dyke went through a mental battle. He was mastering thestrong desire to call back the dog, and forcing himself to take out hisknife and use it as a bill-hook to cut a quantity of the dry, shortbush, piling it up until he had enough to make a fire. This he started,and felt better, for the flame and smoke would keep
off animals, showwhere he was, and cook his dinner, about which he had begun to thinkeagerly, as well as of his position.
"I wonder whether other fellows of my age are so ready to take fright ateverything. It's so stupid, just because the place is open and lonely.Fancy wanting to keep Duke back when he is pretty well sure to find mycartridge pouch, and bring it here. It's a good job no one knows whatwe feel sometimes. If any one did, how stupid we should look."
The fire burned briskly, with the white smoke rising steadily up in thestill air, as, after trying whether the edge of his sheath-knife hadbeen blunted by cutting the bush wood, he attacked the great antelope tosecure a good steak to broil.
"Plenty to cut at," he said with a laugh; and his mouth watered now atthe thought of the juicy frizzle he could make on the glowing embers,which would soon be ready for his purpose. But he went to workjudiciously. His experience in the lonely, wild country had taught hima little of the hunter's craft, and he knew the value of the magnificentskin which covered the eland; so making certain cuts, he drew back thehide till a sufficiency of the haunch was bared, and after cutting apair of skewer-like pieces from a bush, he carved a good juicy steak,inserted his skewers, spread out the meat, and stuck the sharper ends ofthe pieces of wood in the sand, so that the steak was close to, and wellexposed to the glow. Then leaving it to roast, Dyke carefully drew theskin back into its place and set to work washing his hands.
Only a dry wash in the soft reddish sand, but wonderfully cleansing whenrepeated two or three times, and very delightful as a make-shift, wherethere is no water.
By the time Dyke's hands were presentable, and he had piled-up some morebush where the fire had burned into a hole, the meat began to sputter,and drops of fat to drip in the hot embers, producing odours soattractive to a hungry lad, to whom fresh meat was a luxury, that Dyke'sthoughts were completely diverted from the loneliness of his position,and he thought of nothing but the coming dinner as he took from hispocket a lump of heavy mealie cake which had been brought by way oflunch.
"Wish I'd brought a bit of salt," he said to himself and a few minuteslater, as he saw the full pound and a half steak beginning to curl upand shrink on one side, another thought struck him. Wasn't it a pitythat he had not cut a bigger slice, for this one shrank seriously in thecooking?
But concluding that it would do for the present, he carefully withdrewthe sticks from the sand, and turning them about, replaced them so as tocook the other side, congratulating himself the while upon the fact thatthe meat tightly embraced the pieces of wood, and there was no fear ofthe broil falling into the sand.
"Don't want that kind of salt peppered over it," he said in a mixedmetaphorical way, and after a look at Breezy, who was browsing awaycontentedly, Dyke smiled happily enough. Then inhaling the deliciousodours of the steak, he knelt there, with the fire glancing upon hisface and the sun upon his back, picking up and dropping into placeswhere they were needed to keep up the heat, half-burnt pieces of theshort, crisp wood.
It was so pleasant and suggestive an occupation that Dyke forgot allabout danger from wild beasts, or trampling from a startled herd comingback his way. For one moment he thought of Duke, and how long he wouldbe before he came back with the cartridge pouch. He thought of Emson,too, in regard to the steak, wishing he was there to share it, anddetermining to have the fire glowing and another cut ready to cook.
Then, springing up, he ran to where Breezy raised his head with apleasant whinny of welcome, took the water-bottle he always carried fromwhere it was strapped to the back of the saddle, and returned to thecooking.
"Done to a turn," he cried, as he caught up the two pieces of wood whichheld the steak, bore his dinner away a few yards from the fire, sat downholding the skewers ready, and then placing his cake bread in his lap,he began to cut off pieces of the meat.
"De--licious!" he sighed, "but a trifle hot," and then everything wasresolved into the question of meat--rich, tender, juicy meat--gloriousto one whose fare had been dry, leathery, rather tainted biltong for along while past.
Dyke ate as he had never eaten before, till the last fragment wasreached--a peculiarly crisp, brown, tempting-looking piece adhering toone of the skewers. This he held back for a few moments in company withthe last piece of mealie cake, wishing the while that he had cookedmore, and brought a larger piece of the cake.
"Roast beef's nothing to it," he said softly. "Wish old Joe had beenhere to have a bit while it's so tender, and poor old Duke, too. Nevermind, he shall have double allowance when he does come--triple if hebrings my pouch. I wonder whether he has found it. It's wonderful whathe can do in that way."
He raised his eyes to gaze in the direction taken by the dog as he satthere near the fire, and the huge carcass of the eland behind him, andthen he seemed to have been suddenly turned into stone--sitting with thebit of cake in one hand, the skewer in the other, staring, with whiterings round his eyes, straight at a full-grown, handsomely maned lion,standing about twenty yards away, gazing at him straight in the face.