Part 9 (1/2)

”I think we can find the nest again,” said d.y.k.e.

”Why not? We'll find it by the footmarks, if we cannot any other way.

But I think I can ride straight to it.”

They kept a sharp lookout, but no ostrich sprang up in the distance and sped away like the wind. About six miles from home, though, something else was seen lying right out on the plain, to which d.y.k.e pointed.

”A bird?” cried Emson. ”Yes, I see it. No; a beast. Why, d.y.k.e, old chap, there are two of them. What shall we do? Creep in and try a shot, or let them go off?”

”I should try a shot,” said the boy excitedly. ”Why, one is a big-maned fellow.”

”Then perhaps we had better let them alone.”

”What! to come and pull down one of the oxen. No: let's have a shot at them.”

”Very well,” said Emson quietly; ”but see that you have a couple of bullets in your rifle. Make sure.”

He set the example by opening the breech of his piece, and carefully examining the cartridges before replacing them.

”All right,” he cried. ”Now, look here, d.y.k.e. Be ready and smart, if the brutes turn upon us to charge. Sit fast, and give Breezy his head then. No lion would overtake him. Only you must be prepared for a sharp wheel round, for if the brutes come on with a roar, your cob will spin about like a teetotum.”

But no satisfactory shot was obtained, for when they were about a quarter of a mile away, a big, dark-maned lion rose to his feet, stood staring at them for nearly a minute, and then started off at a canter, closely followed by its companion.

d.y.k.e looked sharply round at his brother, as if to say, ”Come on!” but Emson shook his head.

”Not to-day, old chap,” he cried. ”We're too busy. It would mean, too, a long gallop, tiring our horses before we could get a shot, and then we should not be in good condition for aiming.”

”Oh, but, Joe, I daresay that is the wretch that killed the white ox, and he is hanging about after another.”

”To be sure: I forgot that,” cried Emson excitedly. ”Come on. But steady: we can't lose sight of them, so let's canter, and follow till they stand at bay or sneak into the bushes.”

That was more to d.y.k.e's taste, and side by side they followed the two lions, as the great tawny-looking beasts cantered over the plain, their heads down, tails drooping, and looking, as d.y.k.e said, wonderfully like a couple of great cats sneaking off after being found out stealing cream.

There was no need to be silent, and d.y.k.e kept on shouting remarks to his brother as they cantered on over the dry bush and sand.

”I don't think much of lions, after all, Joe,” he said; ”they're not half kings of beasts like you see in pictures and read of in books.”

”You haven't seen one in a rage, old fellow,” said Emson good-humouredly.

”I don't believe they'd be anything much if they were,” said d.y.k.e contemptuously. ”They always seem to me to be creeping and sneaking about like a cat after a mouse. Now look at those great strong things going off like that, as soon as they see us, instead of roaring at us and driving us away.”

”Smell powder, perhaps, and are afraid of the guns.”

”Well, but if they did, that isn't being brave as a lion, Joe. Why, when they killed the white ox, there were four of them, and they did it in the dark. I don't believe when you shot that the bullet went near either of the brutes.”

”No, but we scared them off.”

”They killed the poor old bullock first, though.”

”Well, didn't that give you a good idea of a lion's strength; the poor beast's neck was broken.”

”Let's show them to-day that we are stronger, and break _their_ necks,”