CHAPTER TEN.
THE HUNTER HUNTED.
Dyke was completely paralysed in body, but his mind was wonderfullyactive, and he noted that the horse even had not divined the approach ofthe great beast, but was puffing away with snorting breath at theinsects upon the tender shoots, and browsing contentedly enough, whilethe lion had stolen softly up nearer and nearer, without a sound, afterperhaps following on the track of the antelopes for weeks, and takingtoll from time to time, which might have accounted for its sleekcondition and glistening hide.
In spite of the feeling of horror which chilled the boy, he could nothelp admiring the beauty of the magnificent beast before him, with itsfull flowing mane, and sunny, yellowish eyeballs intently watching him,as the long lithe tail, with its black tuft of long hairs at the tip,swung to and fro, now seen upon the left side, now upon the right, inother respects the great animal being as motionless as the boy.
For many moments Dyke could not even breathe, but at last he uttered agasp, followed by a sharp, catching sound, as he inspired with a sob,and the lion raised the hair about his ears, as if to frown, and uttereda low, deep, growling noise.
Dyke's heart seemed to stand still as, with his eyes still fixed uponthose of the beast, he waited for it to spring upon him, and drive himback. What then?
He shuddered softly, trying hard not to move, and irritate the lion intohastening its aggression at a time when life was so sweet, and everymoment was greedily grasped before the end. He was horribly frightened,but this did not trouble him so much, for he felt stunned, and a greatdeal of what passed was dreamy, and seen as if through a mist. But onething he knew, and that was that he would have some little warning ofthe attack, for the lion would crouch and gather its hind-legs wellunder it before it made its spring.
Then a wave of energy ran through Dyke, who, though still motionless,felt his heart throb with greater vigour as he began to think ofself-defence. There was his gun close at hand, so near that he couldhave reached it; but it was useless. He might make one bold stroke withit; but the stock would only snap. Any blow he could deliver would onlyirritate the beast. And now a dawning feeling of admiration began tobroaden as he gazed at the great, massive head and the huge paws,recalling the while what he had seen since he had been in South Africa--a horse's back broken by one blow, the heads of oxen dragged down andthe necks broken by another jerk; and he felt that he would be perfectlyhelpless when the brute made its first spring.
And still the lion stood, with the tail swinging in that pendulum-likemotion; the great eyes gazing heavily at him; while during those painfulminutes Dyke's brain grew more and more active. He thought of mice inthe power of cats, and felt something of the inert helplessness of thelesser animal, crouching, as if fascinated by the cruel, claw-armedtyrant, waiting to make its spring. And he knew that at any moment thisbeast might come at him as if discharged from a catapult. But all thesame the brain grew more and more acute in its endeavours to find him away of escape. If he had only had a short bayonet fixed at the end ofhis gun, that he might hold it ready with the butt upon the ground, andthe point at an angle of forty-five degrees, so that the lion might atits first bound alight upon it, and impale itself, just as it had beenknown to do upon the long, sharp, slightly curved prongs of the blackantelope, piercing itself through and through, and meeting the fateintended for its prey.
But then he had no bayonet at the end of his gun, and no weaponwhatever, but his strong sheath-knife. He could hold that out beforehim; but he knew well enough that he could not hold it rigid enough toturn it to advantage against his foe.
It might have been so many seconds only, but it appeared to Dyke a longspace of time numbered by minutes, as he waited there, expecting thegreat animal to crouch and spring, making short work of him before goingon to gorge itself upon the carcass of the eland. There was nopossibility of help coming, for it must be hours before Emson couldreturn, and then it would be too late.
At last the power to move came back, and Dyke's first thought was toturn and run, but second thoughts suggested that it would be invitingthe great active beast to spring upon his back, and he remained firm,never for a moment taking his eyes off those which stared so fixedlyinto his, although he was longing to look wildly round for the help thatcould not be at hand.
Then his heart gave one great leap, for he saw a quiver run through thelion, which crouched down, gathering its hind-legs beneath it, andoutstretching its fore; but it was some moments before the boy graspedthe fact that the brute's movement was not for the purpose of making atremendous bound, but only to couch, as if it would be easier and morecomfortable to gaze at him in a seated position after making a very longstalk.
"He can't be hungry!" came to Dyke's brain on the instant, and then boyand lion sat opposite to each other, gazing hard, till the great cat'shead and mane seemed to swell and swell to gigantic proportions beforethe boy's swimming eyes, and they appeared misty, strange, and distant.
Then came another change, for the animal suddenly threw itself over,stretched, and turned upon its back, patted at the air with its paw, andgazed at the boy in an upside-down position, its lower jaw uppermost,but keeping a watchful eye upon him, as if expecting an attack. Amoment or two later it was drawing itself over the sand to where Dykesat, and made a quick dab at him with one paw, striking up the sand in ashower; and as the boy started away, the brute sprang to its feet, shookitself, and with two or three bounds plumped itself down upon the eland,and buried its teeth in the dead antelope's throat.
Dyke uttered a hoarse sigh of relief, and rested himself by pressing hishands down beside him, breathing heavily the while.
It was a temporary reprieve, but he dared not move for fear of drawingthe attention of the lion to him, and clung to the hope that perhaps thegreat creature might be content to glut itself upon the game.
The beast was well-fed and not savage, that was plain enough, but itsaction might change at any moment, and, worse still, there was theprospect of others arriving at any moment to join in the feast.
For a full hour Dyke sat there, watching the great animal, and listeningto it as it tore off pieces of the neck from time to time, the crack ofa bone every now and then making him start violently, and shudder at thethought of certain possibilities connected with himself. And all thistime the beast was in such a position that one eye was toward him, and agleam therefrom made it apparent that he was carefully watched the wholetime. But at last the lion turned itself more away to get at a moremeaty portion, and a thrill of excitement ran through Dyke.
Grasping his knife firmly in one hand, his gun in the other, he turnedover, and fixing upon one of the low bushes a short distance away,beyond which was other good cover, he began slowly and silently to crawlsidewise away, keeping a watchful eye the while upon the lion, so as tostop short at the slightest movement on the part of the great beast.
It was an exceedingly difficult mode of progression, and it was hardwork to keep to it, for with every yard the desire to get up and runtoward where Breezy would be grazing increased. Once he could reach thecob, take off the hobbles which confined its forefeet, tighten thegirths, and slip the bit between its teeth, he did not care. But therewas a great deal to do, he knew, before he could achieve this.
Yard by yard he crept on, the sand hushing every sound, and he hadnearly reached the low bush cropped short all over the top by the horseor some passing animal, when there was a quick movement and a low growlwhich made him feel that all was over.
But a sharp _crick, crack_ of a broken bone nipped in the powerful jawsreassured him, and after waiting a few minutes, he crept sidewise againa little farther, and he was behind the bush, which shut out all view ofthe lion and smouldering fire, and of course hid him from his enemy.
He could now make better progress, for if the lion turned, he would beinvisible; and taking advantage of this, he crept on from bush to bush,till he was quite a hundred yards away. And now the longing was intenseto stand erect and look out for Br
eezy, but the bushy growth had been soclosely cropped that it was nowhere a yard in height, and to stand upmight have meant to bring him full in his enemy's sight.
There was nothing to be done, then, but to crawl on to a more open spot,and as he was going in the direction taken by the horse in feeding thelast time he saw it, the boy felt not the slightest uneasiness, beingsure that he should come in sight of it directly.
Still the minutes glided on as he made for the more open part where thesand lay bare, and he began now to grow uneasy at not seeing the cob,and at last, like a crushing disaster, he saw that the poor animal musthave scented the lion, or been alarmed at the cracking of the bones,and, in consequence, it had quietly shuffled as far away as it could inthe time. There it was, a couple of miles away, right in the openplain, and though at that distance its movement could not be made out,it was in all probability shuffling its way along to save its life.
Dyke's heart sank in his breast as he knelt there in the sand, feelingas if his case was as hopeless as ever, and for the moment he feltdisposed to creep right into the densest place he could find, and liethere till darkness set in, when he would take his bearings as well ashe could from the stars, and then try to reach Kopfontein. But at thatmoment there came to him his brother's words, and the little absurdstory about trying till to-morrow morning. A trifling thing; but atthat moment enough to make Dyke sling his gun over his back, thrust theknife into its sheaf, mark down the position of the fire by the faintsmoke, and then start off crawling on all-fours straight away, not afterthe horse, but so as to keep the bushes well between him and the lion.
The exertion was great and the heat terrible. Never had the sand seemedso hot before, nor the air so stifling to breathe; but he crept onsilently and pretty quickly, till, glancing back over his shoulder, hefound that he might move straight at once to where he could see Breezylooking distant and misty through the lowest stratum of the quiveringair. For the low bushes hid him no longer; there was the faint smoke ofthe fire still rising, and just beyond it the big carcass of the eland,made monstrous by the great maned lion, crouching, tearing at the neck.
At the sight of this, Dyke dropped down flat, and lay panting andmotionless for a few minutes. Then he began to crawl straight for thehorse, grovelling along upon his breast. But this soon proved to be fartoo painful and laborious a mode of progression, and he rose to hishands and knees, feeling that it must be that way or nohow, though fastgrowing desperate enough to rise to his feet and run.
A minute's anxious reflection brought the feeling that this would be amad act, and might rouse the lion into following him, so he keptsteadily getting farther and farther away, and more and moreforeshortened, as the artists term it, till he was pretty well end on tothe lion, and he felt that he must present a singular aspect to themonster if it looked across the plain.
"I shall never do it," muttered Dyke. "Poor old Breezy! he wasfrightened. I can't blame him, but I don't get any nearer. He's goingon as fast as I am, and I shall be obliged to get up and run."
But he did not. He kept up the uneasy crawling, putting hundred-yardspace after hundred-yard space between him and the fire, while, when hedid glance back, it was after dropping flat behind some bush and raisinghis head till he could see the eland lying like a low hummock or patchof bush, and with the lion growing less distinct.
On he went again, refreshed by the trifling rest, but far more by thefact that he was really getting more distant from the great danger. Forit was in vain to try to assure himself that as the lion did not molesthim before it had fed, it was far less likely to do so now.
As he crawled onward, wishing he could progress like the baboons whichhaunted some of the stony kopjes in the neighbourhood, he tried to thinkhow long it would be before he overtook the cob, and in spite of thedanger and excitement he could not help smiling, for his positionreminded him of one of the old problems at school about if A goes somany yards an hour and B so many, for twenty-four hours, how long willit be before B is overtaken by A?
"A fellow can't do that without pen, ink, and paper," he said tohimself. "It's too big a sum to do on sand, and, besides, I don't knowhow fast I am going, nor B for Breezy either. But oh, how hot I am!"
At last he could bear it no longer; he was apparently getting no nearerthe cob, but he certainly must be, he felt, sufficiently far from thelion to make it safe for him to rise and trot after the nag. He had hiswhistle, and if he could make Breezy hear, the horse would come to him.But he dared not use that yet; besides, he was too far away.
At last he did rise, gazed timorously back, and then started onward at asteady trot--a means of progression which seemed quite restful after thepainful crawl, and gaining spirit by the change, he went on with so goodeffect that he saw that he was certainly gaining on the cob. Thisinfused fresh spirit within him, and congratulating himself on the factthat he must soon get within whistling distance, he had another glanceback to see that eland and lion were an indistinct mass, or so it seemedfor the moment. Then he turned cold again in spite of the heat, forthere, moving slowly over the sand, about a quarter of a mile back, wasa tawny, indistinct something which gradually grew clearer to hisstartled eyes, for unmistakably there was a lion stealthily stalkinghim, taking advantage of every tuft to approach unseen, and before manyminutes had passed he felt that it would be within springing distance,and all would be over in spite of his almost superhuman toil.
There was only one chance for him now, he felt, and that was to run hisbest.
He did not pause to look, but began to run over the burning sand, hisbreath coming hot and thick; but he must go on, he knew, for at everyaffrighted glance behind, there was his enemy keeping up its stealthyapproach, and the cob was still so far away.
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