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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 16. Anybody Killed? |
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_ CHAPTER SIXTEEN. ANYBODY KILLED? "Hello, mate! What's wrong with you? Don't say as you have found Dunn Brown?" cried Buck. "Pete, Pete, Peter!" said the black, in a high state of excitement, and he pointed with his broken spear in the opposite direction to that which the lions seemed to have taken. "Peter Dance!" said Sir James excitedly. "Oh, poor old Dance!" said Mark, in a low, hoarse voice. "Not dead! Not dead!" cried Dean. The black shook his head violently, pointed again with his spear, and then bending down began to slap his right leg. "Oh, that's it, is it?" said Buck. "I thought he had come to say, gentleman, as he had found all that the lions had left of him." "Well," said the doctor, "what does he mean?" "Something wrong with his leg, sir, and I hope one of the great cats ain't mauled him, because their bites are likely to go bad." "Here, show us where he is," cried Mark excitedly; and closely followed by Dean he caught the black by the arm and pointed. That was enough. Mak pointed and smiled, and the whole party followed him at the double, Buck Denham grunting now and then as he ran, and pointing out where the undoubted footprints of a lion were plainly marked where the ground was soft. It was quite a quarter of a mile from the waggons, and in the midst of some dense undergrowth, that their guide stopped short and stood pointing in a way that showed there was no danger in the approach, when Mark whispered, with his heart sinking, "Oh, Dean, I'm afraid he's badly hurt!" But at the same moment Bob Bacon sprang in amongst the bushes, trampling them down, side by side with the black. "Where are you, mate?" cried Bacon, in a hoarse voice. "Here, lad, here!" And then with a deep groan the poor fellow of whom they were in search said reproachfully, "Thought you were going to leave me here to die." "Not likely," said Mark angrily. "Where are you hurt?" "That you, Mr Mark?" groaned the keeper. "Oh, all over, and I'm afraid my leg's broke." "Let me come," said the doctor. "Knives here: cut back some of these thorns. Now then, try to bear it, my lad," he continued, as he knelt beside the injured man, who was half invisible amongst the thick growth. "Oh!" groaned the keeper. "There, I will not hurt you more than I can help, but I must find where you are injured." "Oh!" groaned the man again. "Come, your leg's not broken. Yes, no doubt it hurts you, but it's only a sprain. Keep up your spirits. You are not going to die this time." "But I am hurt all over, sir. The bullocks trampled me: came all in a rush." "But how came you here, mate?" asked Dan, pausing from his busy task of slashing away at the undergrowth with the big sheath knife which he used for skinning and cutting up. "I dunno, mate. It all seems like a dream." "Like a dream?" said Mark, as he recalled his own awakening. "Yes, Mr Mark, sir. I was sitting on the watch there with my rifle across my knees, wondering how long it would be before daybreak, when all at once there was a big lion as had come up without a sound, looking straight at me." "Could you see him, mate?" asked Buck. "Only his eyes." "Why didn't you fire?" "Fire? Oh, I was too much skeart. I'll tell the truth about it. I was so frightened that I jumped up and ran, not knowing where I was going, for ever so far, and then I found by the trampling and bellowing that it was right into the way of the bullocks. Then before I knew where I was they knocked me down and the whole drove had gone over me, and when I got my senses again I crawled on here in the dark, and I suppose I swoonded away. That's all I know. Am I very bad, doctor?" "A man can't be trampled on by a drove of bullocks without being a good deal hurt," said the doctor. "We must carry him somehow to the waggons, or better still bring one of them past here. What do you think, Denham? Do you think you could inspan some of the bullocks and drag one of the waggons here?" "Oh, yes, sir, I daresay we can get together enough for that. I'll go back and see." "Yes, do, my man," said Sir James. "I will stay with the doctor, and with your help, Bacon, we will see what we can do." "That's right, sir," said Buck Denham. "Perhaps you two young gents wouldn't mind coming with me?" "I--" began Mark, and he stopped short, for the man gave him a peculiar look. "Yes, Buck, I'll come," he said, "and Dean will come too." They started off, and the big driver said, loudly enough for those they were leaving to hear, "Thank you, gentlemen; I daresay you two will be able to help me a bit." They started off together on the back trail, Buck Denham pointing out how they had trampled down the herbage, brushing off the dew and here and there breaking down twigs. "Ah!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Here's poor old Peter's trail. See that? He must have crawled along here. But I don't see the spoor of any of my beasts--yes, I do," he cried, a few yards farther. "They went along here in a drove. Then we had better turn off and follow them up. I don't suppose they will have gone so very far. Say, Mr Mark, sir; do you know why I wanted you two to come with me?" "To help find the bullocks," said Dean sharply. The man chuckled as he trotted on along the marks made by the animals. "No," he said. "It's all plain enough. I didn't want any help. Why, you two could find them if you went far enough. I wanted to get summut off my mind." "Something off your mind?" said Mark. "Yes, sir; I don't like to speak out and get another fellow into trouble, but I felt as you two ought to know, and then you could talk it over between yourselves and settle whether you ought to tell the boss." "Tell my father?" said Mark. "Yes, sir, or the doctor; and perhaps he will think the poor fellow's got it bad enough without facing more trouble." "What do you mean, Buck?" cried Dean. "What I was going to say," said Mark. "Well, gen'lemen, only this; we oughtn't to have had a surprise like that. It was Peter Dance's watch, warn't it?" "Yes," cried Mark excitedly, as strange thoughts began to hurry through his brain. "Well, sir, he as good as said as he was sitting down with his shooter across his knees." "Yes, yes," cried Dean. "Well, sir, why didn't he shoot?" "He was too much startled," said Dean. "Poor fellow! I should have been quite as scared, with a lion creeping right up to me like that." "I suppose so, sir. But I don't quite believe that tale. I never 'eerd of a lion creeping up to look at a man who was sitting by a fire." "No," said Mark, in a whisper, as if to himself, and he trotted on the newly made trampled trail of the oxen. "Why should you doubt it?" said Dean sharply. "I have known Peter Dance ever since I was a quite a little fellow. He can be very disagreeable sometimes, but I never found him out in a lie." "No, sir?" said Buck. "Well, I think you have found him out now." "What do you mean?" cried Dean. "Here, Mark, why don't you say something?" "Because I'm listening," said his cousin drily. "Tell him what you think, Buck." "Yes, sir; I will, sir. Well, I think--bah! I am sure--that there was no fire." "What!" cried Dean angrily. "Gone to sleep, sir, and let it out." "How do you know that?" cried Dean, indignant in his defence of his uncle's old servant. "How do I know that, sir? How come the lions to crawl up and stampede my bullocks? Where was the fire when we all jumped up and began shooting? Why, there was only just enough ashes for old Mak to stir up and get to blaze again after he had thrown on some twigs." "Oh, but--" began Dean hotly. "Hold your tongue, Dean," said Mark. "Buck Denham's right. He must be. I believe Peter did go to sleep, and woke up to find the fire out and the lions at the poor ponies and bullocks." "Oh!" cried Dean excitedly. "Why, if he did that, neglecting his duty-- going to sleep--" Just then he caught his cousin's eyes looking at him in a peculiar way, and he stopped short. "Drop it," said Mark, and he was going to add, "Dozey;" but he made his meaning look do instead. "There, gen'lemen," said Buck, "I shan't say no more about it, and I don't believe the poor chap will ever do it again. There, I feel better now, Mr Mark. It's off my mind; but I did feel wild. Why, some of us might have been mauled by the lions; and there's my poor beasts: two of them's killed for sartain, and lying yonder half eaten. Oh, and there's the ponies!" "And we don't know yet," said Mark, "what may have happened to your two men and Brown." "Oh, they will be all right, sir." "I don't know," said Mark. "But there, poor Peter is badly hurt, and we will think about whether we should tell my father and the doctor, or have it out with him ourselves, when he's better. I'll make him confess." "There, what did I tell you, gentlemen?" cried the big driver. "Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Ahoy!" "Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Ahoy! Ahoy!" came from not far away. "There's two of them, gen'lemen." "Where?" cried Dean eagerly. "Oh, not far off, sir. Didn't you hear them shouting? There, you can hear now, surely. I heard them. There!" That to which he drew attention was the low bellowing of oxen being driven in their direction. "Why, they are coming this way," cried Mark. "Yes, sir. That's Hot Tot and the little black. They've found the bullocks." "Some of them," suggested Dean. "All on 'em, sir, as is left alive. They'd hang together when they bolted.--Hullo! Here's Mak come after us;" and the boys turned eagerly, to find the big black had been following their trail, showing his teeth joyously as he pointed with his broken spear and uttered a low bellowing like a bullock. "Oh, I am glad," cried Mark. "Now if we could only find the ponies--" Mak thrust two fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly, in perfect imitation of Dunn Brown, sending forth the call, which was instantly answered from the distance. "Hark at that!" cried Mark. "Why, that must be Dunn! Here, Mak." The boy thrust his fingers between his lips, withdrew them, and cried, "Whistle! Whistle!" The black smiled and nodded, and sent forth the piercing call again. There was an answer from much nearer. "Oh, I wonder how many he has found!" In less than a minute the boy's wondering ceased, for he caught sight of their tall thin follower running swiftly through the low brush, with all four ponies cantering after him, to pull up in a group as the man stopped short close to where the keeper and the two lads were waiting. "Not hurt, Dunn?" cried Mark joyously. "No," said the man sadly. "Anybody killed?" "No. Don't cry about it," cried Mark. "But Peter Dance is hurt," said Dean sharply. "Oh," said the man, almost piteously, and then shook his head, looking from one to the other mournfully. "Let the fire out." Big Buck Denham bent down to slap his thighs and burst into a roar of laughter. "Oh, don't laugh, Buck," cried Mark. "Think of your poor bullocks." "Yes," said Dunn, in no way discomposed by the man's laughter; "two killed." "Well, arn't that enough to make a fellow laugh?" said Buck. "Only two pulled down. Might have been worse. You have seen them, then?" "Yes; they followed the ponies. Just came by." "That's all right, then. Come and help, Dunn. I want to inspan and take one of the waggons to fetch Peter Dance." "Ah!" said Dunn, and he shook his head. "Let the fire out." "Well, don't go howling about it and get the poor fellow into trouble." "No?" sighed Buck's amateur foreloper. "No!" thundered Buck. "And there's worse disasters at sea. Bad jobs turn out trumps sometimes, young gen'lemen. Two bullocks pulled down, and when we have got Peter Dance back to camp, gentlemen, I daresay you would like to come along of me to have a look at the dead lions. I say, Dunn, can you skin a lion?" "Yes," said the man, and he pulled a long knife out of its sheath and tried its edge. "Yes, that will do. I'll help you, mate. We will get little Dan at work to cut up the bullocks; but I'm rather scared about their skins." "Then why cut the poor things up?" said Mark sharply. "Why cut them up, sir?" replied the big driver, staring at the boy wonderingly. "Best bits--beef." _ |
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