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Dead Man's Land: Being the Voyage to Zimbambangwe of certain and uncertain, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 9. "Seen Any More Lions?" |
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_ CHAPTER NINE. "SEEN ANY MORE LIONS?" Feeling half stunned, Mark rolled over and over, holding on to his piece the while, and struggled to his feet from amongst the bushes in which he had involuntarily sought refuge. His movements took him through a low, clinging cloud of the smoke of gunpowder, and he heard the rustling of trampled bushes as what he assumed to be his assailant dashed away. And now he grasped the fact that his shot had thoroughly roused the whole camp. The ponies were plunging and dragging at their raw hide lariats, and the oxen were upon their feet, alarmed in the darkness and about to break away; but Buck Denham, the English driver, and the Hottentot were yelling at them, and the black forelopers were adding their shrill cry as they aided in trying to pacify the beasts. In the midst of the noise and confusion Mark heard his name loudly uttered, followed by the words, "Where are you, my lad? Speak up!" "Here--here," he panted. "Oh, that's right." "Not hurt, are you?" cried the doctor, as he grasped him by one arm, and he awoke to the fact that his breathless father had seized him by the other. "Speak, my boy," he cried. "Why don't you speak? Where are you hurt?" "I don't quite know, father? Not much; but it sprang right at me and knocked me back amongst the bushes as it tore away." "What tore away?" cried the doctor. "What did you fire at?" "I am not quite sure," replied the boy excitedly, "but I think it was a lion. I saw it creeping up towards the ponies, and as it reared up to spring upon them I fired." "Yes," said his father sharply, "and then?" "I think I must have wounded it, for I heard it dashing away amongst the bushes." "Well done, boy," cried his father, patting him on the shoulder. "But you are sure you are not hurt much?" "Oh, yes, I am not hurt much, father," said the boy quietly. "The beast struck me on the shoulder and knocked me right backwards." "Then he will be clawed, doctor. Let's get him into the waggon, and have a light." "Yes, by all means. Who's there?" cried the doctor, in the darkness and confusion. "Ay, ay, sir! Me, sir. Off for a lantern," cried the little sailor. "Here we are sir," cried Bob Bacon. "Me, sir, and Peter Dance." "That's right, my lads. Take hold of Mr Mark and carry him into the waggon." "Oh, Mark," cried another voice, "don't say you are hurt!" "Well, but I am, old chap," said Mark coolly. "No, I say, don't do that. Don't be frightened, father, I can walk." "Are you sure, boy?" said the doctor, who had handed the rifle with which he had come out armed to the keeper; and as he spoke he passed his hands over Mark's shoulders, fully expecting to feel the moisture of blood oozing through his clothes. "Oh!" shouted the boy, and Sir James winced, uttering a low hissing sound the while. "It's got him there," said the doctor, between his teeth. "Yes, it pricks," said the boy. "It was only when you touched it." At that moment a light appeared from the direction of the first waggon, and the big bullock driver joined the party, ready to open his lantern and cast its rays upon the excited little throng, one of the first faces seen being that of the black guide, who, spear in hand, seemed to become one of the most animated, as he stood with his eyes flashing and his white teeth bared. "Ahoy! Light's here, sir!" shouted the sailor. "Bring it here," cried the doctor, and the rays of a second lantern came dancing through the darkness to help light up the scene. "Now, my boy," said the doctor, "do you feel faint?" "No," said Mark sturdily. "I only want to see how much you are hurt." "It's getting better now," said the boy cheerfully. "It only aches." "But I must see where--" began the doctor, only to be checked by a shout from Mark. "I say, don't! You are hurting me again. It's a big thorn, and you pressed it farther in." "Is it the beast's claw?" whispered Sir James. "It can't be," replied the doctor. "It's right on the back of his shoulder where I placed my hand--yes, here it is." "Oh!" ejaculated Mark again, for the doctor thrust his hand inside the door of one of the lanterns, to display a great thorn about two inches long. "Ah, there's lots more here, sir," cried Bob Bacon. "Mr Mark must have been knocked right into these bushes." "Why, Mark," continued the doctor, "hold up your hands. They are all covered with blood. Scratches. I don't find anything else the matter with you." "No," said Mark; "I don't think there is. I say, don't make such a fuss about it. It makes one look so stupid. I say, father, I'm very sorry I fired." "Sorry!" said his father warmly. "Thank heaven, my boy, you are hurt no worse. The brute, whatever it was, must have been tremendously strong, and struck you down in its leap." "Well, it did come at me with a good bang, father, just the same moment that I fired. Here, who's got my gun?" "Gun," said a voice, and the Illaka reached over to thrust it into the boy's hand. "Oh, thank you," said Mark. "Mustn't lose that. Here, you catch hold, Dean. Then you think I did right in firing, father?" "Why, of course, my boy." "Here, that will do, doctor. I think I am all right." "Well, really, my boy, I am beginning to think so too. But I will keep watch the rest of the night with one of the men. You had better go and lie down now." "Oh, no," said Mark. "It's my watch, and I am going to finish it." "And I will come and finish it with you, my boy," said his father. "But he has finished it," said the doctor, who had hastily pulled out his watch. "Two o'clock!" "Then it's my turn," said Dean quickly. "But I can't let you undertake that task now," said Sir James. "Let me come, sir, along with Mr Dean, sir," cried the sailor. "No," said Sir James. "Thank you all the same, my man, I have my rifle ready loaded. What has become of yours, Mark?" "I have got it, uncle," cried Dean. "Give me your pouch and the cartridges, Mark. I want to load." "But where's your piece, Dean?" said Sir James. "Mine, uncle--mine? I came out in such a hurry that I forgot all about it." "Bah! Well, here's Mark's pouch. Take it and load." "Yes, uncle," replied the boy hastily. "Why, Mark, I only heard one shot. Did you fire both barrels?" "Eh? I don't know. Perhaps I did." "Well," said the doctor, a few minutes later, as he stood with Sir James and Dean, "I don't think that there is any occasion to be uneasy about Mark. He can't be injured, or he wouldn't be so calm. The animals seem to be settling down again, and that's a sure sign that there is nothing near to alarm them. What I wonder at is that we heard no sign from the bullocks--" "Or from the ponies," said Sir James. "--Before Mark fired." "Then I suppose," said Sir James, "that we may all go and lie down till you rouse us up again, doctor." "Which I certainly shall if there is any cause." The alarm had not proved serious enough to interfere with the sleep of the camp, with one exception, and Mark formed that exception, for during the second watch either Dean or Mark's father went to the waggon as quietly as possible to look after the injured lad, and oddly enough had the same report to give, that Mark was sleeping easily and well, while as soon as each visit had been paid the boy turned over, exclaiming, "Bother! Anyone would think the lion had half eaten me. I wish they would not make such a fuss." The last time, when Dean was coming off duty, it was to find his cousin's eyes wide open. "Oh, you are awake now," he cried. "How are you?" "Oh, all right. Seen any more lions?" "No; it's been quite still all the rest of the night." "Father all right?" "Yes; he will be here directly. I say, Mark, let's look where you were hurt before he comes." But this was not achieved, Sir James darkening the opening of the waggon tilt just as the neck of his son's shirt was thrown open, to display a big blackening bruise upon the boy's right shoulder, and further examination revealed a small hole where a thorn had penetrated, and some scratches upon the boy's hands. "Are those claw marks?" said Dean excitedly. "Pooh! Nonsense!" said a voice which made all look up, to see the doctor climbing into the waggon. He too examined the injuries, and exclaimed, "You are sure you saw some animal about to attack the ponies?" "Yes, certain," said Mark. "And you fired at it?" "Well, yes," said Mark; "you heard me, and came." "Exactly," said the doctor drily; "but are you sure that the beast, whatever it was, sprang at you?" "I saw it rear up as I fired," replied Mark, "and I felt a tremendous blow on the shoulder. Yes: here's the bruise." "Yes, my boy," said the doctor quietly, "but that is just such a bruise as would have been made if you had pulled both triggers of a heavy rifle at once." "Well," said Mark quietly, "I have been lying awake almost ever since, and that's just what I've been fancying. Do you think it was that, doctor?" "I feel sure of it, Mark; and what's more, I have been all round the camp with the Illaka and the two keepers, and even in the moistest place we can find, there isn't the sign of a lion's spoor." "Well, that's queer," said Mark, scratching his head. "I don't understand it. Now I want some breakfast, and I am going to get up." _ |
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