CHAPTER ELEVEN.
BEING STALKED.
Those were minutes which would have made the stoutest-hearted man feelthat his case was hopeless; and Dyke struggled along, feeling his legsgrow weaker, and as if his feet were turned to heavy weights of lead.Still he kept on at what was no longer a good run, for his pace haddegenerated into a weary trot, and there were moments when he fanciedthat the cob was disappearing in a mist of distance, while at the sametime he felt a constant inclination to check his speed, so as to be ableto gaze back at his pursuer, which every now and then sent his heartupward with a tremendous throb, as it made a few rapid bounds to gainthe shelter of bushes, and disappeared, but, as the boy well knew, tocome into sight again much nearer.
The later part of that terrible flight was dreamlike in its strange,wild confusion, and was dominated by a despairing feeling that he hadnow done all that was possible, and must throw himself down and yield tohis fate.
But the instinctive desire for life, the horror of being seized by themonstrous beast, and the thought of Emson and their home, which, shabbyand rough as it was, now seemed to be a glorious haven of refuge, kepthim struggling on in spite of his exhaustion. Life was so sweet; therewas so much to do; and poor Joe would be so lonely and broken-heartedwhen he found out his brother's fate. It would be, he knew, the lastterrible blow of all to the expedition. For himself, he was so stunnedby horror and exertion that he could not feel that there would be muchpain; all he hoped for was that the seizure would be sudden and the endinstantaneous; but still he kept up that slow, steady double over theburning sand, with his heavy gun going jerk, jerk, giving him, as itwere, regular blows across the loins to urge him on.
Another wild glance back, and the lion growing bigger; and another wearystare in advance, and the cob still so distant, but clearer now to hisvision, though certainly shuffling away.
Again he looked back, to see the savage beast grovelling itself along,with its lower parts almost touching the sand, and seeming more thanever to keep up that stealthy, cat-like approach, so as to get withinspringing distance.
And now a reaction began to take place, and through his teeth Dyke's hotbreath panted out:
"I don't care; I'll die game. He shan't kill me for nothing."
His hand went to his belt, and he snatched out his keen sheath-knife,determined to hold it with both fists before him, and face the lion whenthe beast sprang. It would not save his life, he felt; but the brutewould suffer, and that was some consolation, even then. Then his lefthand went to his throat, to tear open his collar, so that he couldbreathe more freely; but it did not reach the button, for it struckagainst the big metal whistle which hung from his neck by a twistedleather thong.
His next act was almost involuntary. He placed the metal to his lips,and blew with all his might a long, trilling whistle, despairing as heblew, but still with a faint hope that the shrill sound would reachthrough the clear air to where the cob was labouring along with itshobbled feet.
The result sent a thrill through the boy, for to his great joy he sawthat the cob had stopped.
No: it was fancy.
No: it was no imagination, no fancy of his disordered brain; for themoment before, the horse was end on to him; now, it had turnedbroadside, and was gazing back; and in his excitement Dyke whistledagain with all the breath he could put into the act.
The horse still stared back. It had heard the familiar call, and Dykefelt another thrill of hope, for on looking back he saw that the whistlehad had a double effect: the lion had stopped short, sprung erect, andstood at gaze with bristling mane, staring after him, its head lookingdouble its former size.
But Dyke did not pause; he ran on, dragging his leaden feet, till he sawthat the cob was once more moving away, and the lion crawling rapidlyalong in his track.
Another shrill, trilling whistle with the former effect, and the animalsin front and rear stopped again, giving the boy a few yards' gain.
But the reprieve was very short. The lion soon recovered from itssurprise at the unwonted sound, one which might mean danger, and resumedits stalk, while the cob again went on.
How long that terrible time lasted Dyke could not tell, but thewhistling was resumed over and over again, always with the same effect,and with the hope growing that perhaps at last he might reach the horse,Dyke toiled on.
Despair came, though, in company with the hope; for at any moment theboy felt that the cob might wildly rush off as soon as it realised hownear the lion was behind its master--fear getting the better of the longtraining which had taught it to obey its master's call. But still Dykewas getting nearer and nearer, and the whistle did not seem to lose itseffect, always checking horse and lion as well, till to Dyke's great joythe cob uttered a loud whinnying sound, answered by a deep mutteringgrowl from the lion.
"I can go no farther," panted Dyke at last, and his run degenerated intoa weary stumble, as he raised the whistle once more to his lips, blewwith all his feeble might, and then began to walk.
Hope once more, for the whinnying sounded loudly now; and in spite ofthe presence of the lion a couple of hundred yards behind its master,Breezy suddenly came toward where Dyke stood, advancing in a stumblingcanter. Dyke tried to call to it, but no words would come; and heglanced back to see the lion gliding over the ground nearer and nearer.
How long would it be before it was near enough to make its bound?
Long before he could get down by the cob's forelegs to loosen thehobbles from its fetlocks, and mount.
Dyke felt that as he staggered to meet the cob, and the beautiful littleanimal stumbled toward him, whinnying joyfully, seeing for the timenothing but its master, to whom it looked for protection.
"I shall never do it! I shall never do it!" he panted, and he glancedback to see the lion stealing on, with its eyes glaring in the sunshine.And there was no friendly, playful look here, for now Dyke noticed thatthis was not the lion which he had encountered by the eland, butanother, evidently one which had been following the droves of antelopes,and, fierce with hunger, had turned aside after the first object that ithad seen.
At that moment Dyke dropped upon his knees, throwing one arm round thefettered legs of his favourite, which had ceased its whinnying, andbegan to tremble violently, snorting and starting, and, yielding to itspanic at the sight of the approaching enemy, threatened to bound away.
To get the hobbles undone was impossible, for Dyke's hands trembled fromweakness and excitement; but spurred again by despair, he made a coupleof bold cuts, severed the leather thongs, and sprang to his feet.
But there was much yet to do: the bit to fasten, and how could he get itinto the mouth of the horrified beast?--the girths to tighten, while thecob backed away.
Neither was possible, and glancing once over his shoulder, Dyke snatchedat the mane, but missed it, for the cob started violently, but stopped acouple of yards away, paralysed with horror at the approach of thegreat, stealthy beast.
Another clutch at the mane, and the cob started again; but Dyke hadseized it fast, and was dragged a few yards before Breezy stopped,trembling in terror; as making one last effort, the boy made a leap andscramble to mount, dragging the saddle half round, but getting his legover, clinging now with both hands to the mane.
Nothing could have been narrower.
The lion had given up its stealthy, creeping approach, and risen at lastto commence a series of bounds, ending with one tremendous leap, whichlaunched it through the air, and would have landed it next upon Dyke andhis brave little steed; but horror drove off the trembling, paralyticseizure, and Breezy made also his frantic bound forward, with the resultthat the lion almost grazed the horse's haunches as it passed, andalighted upon the sand. The beast turned with a savage roar; but, urgedby fear, and spurred by its master's hoarse cries, the cob wasgalloping, with its eyes turned wildly back, and every breath comingwith a snort of dread.
Certainly nothing could have been narrower, for, enraged by its failure,the lion was in full pursuit, ke
eping up bound after bound; but swiftlyas it launched itself forward, its speed fell short of the pace at whichthe brave little cob swept over the sand, spurning it at every effort ina blinding shower right in the lion's face, while Dyke, lying prostrate,clinging with hand and knee, was in momentary expectation of beingthrown off.
The pursuit was not kept up for more than three hundred yards. Then thelion stopped short, and sent forth a series of its thunderous,full-throated roars, every one making Breezy start and plungefrantically forward, with the sweat darkening its satin coat.
But the danger was past, and for the next ten minutes Dyke strove hardto master a hysterical sensation of a desire to sob; and then gainingstrength, and beginning to breathe with less effort, he drew himself uperect, and tried by voice and caress to slacken the frightened animal'sheadlong speed.
"Wo-ho, lad! wo-ho, lad!" he cried, and the speed slackened into acanter.
"My word!" muttered the boy to himself, "I don't know how I managed tostick on!"
Ten minutes later he managed to stop the cob, and sliding off wearily,he stroked and patted its reeking neck, unbuckled and slipped in thebit, attached the reins to the loose side, and arranged them ready formounting. Then dragging the saddle back into its place, he properlytightened the girths, and gave two or three searching glances backwardthe while.
But the lion, far or near, was well hidden, and they were well out inone of the barest parts of the plain, which now spread tenantless as faras eye could reach, while the eland was quite out of sight.
And now, as he proceeded to mount, Dyke awoke to the fact that his backwas bruised sore by the gun, which had beaten him heavily; he wasdrenched with perspiration; and it was an effort to lift his foot to thestirrup, his knees being terribly stiff. He was conscious, too, of astrange feeling of weariness of both mind and body, and as he sank intothe saddle he uttered a low sigh.
But he recovered a bit directly, and turning the cob's head, began toride slowly in the direction of Kopfontein, whose granite pile lay likean ant-hill far away, low down on the eastern horizon.
He was too tired to think; but he noted in a dull, half-stunned way thatthe sun was getting very low, and it struck him that unless he hurriedon, darkness would overtake him long before he could get home.
But it did not seem to matter; and though it hurt him a little, therewas something very pleasant in the easy, rocking motion of Breezy'scantering stride, while the wind swept, cool and soft, against hischeeks.
Then he began to think about the events of the day--his narrow escape,which seemed to be dreamlike now, and to belong to the past; next hefound himself wondering where the dog was, and whether it had found hiscartridge pouch. Lastly, he thought of Emson, and his ride back tofetch Jack and the oxen--a long task, for the bullocks were so slow anddeliberate at every pace.
But it did not seem to matter, for everything was very restful andpleasant, as the golden sun sent the shadow of himself and horse faraway along the plain. He was safe, for the lion could be laughed at byany one well mounted as he was then. At last the pleasant sensation ofsafety was combined with a dull restfulness that grew and grew, till,moving gently in that canter over the soft sand, which hushed the cob'spaces to a dull throb, the glow in the west became paler and paler, andthen dark.
Then bright again, for Dyke recovered himself with a jerk, and satupright, staring.
"I do believe I was dropping off to sleep," he muttered. "That won'tdo. I shall be off.--Go on, Breezy, old boy. You had a good long rest,and didn't have to crawl on your knees. How far is it now?"
Far enough, for the kopje was only just visible against the sky.
But again it did not seem to matter, for all grew dull again. Dyke hadkept on nodding forward, and was jerked up again, but only for him tobegin nodding again. Soon after he made a lurch to the left, and Breezyceased cantering, and gave himself a hitch. Then followed a lurch tothe right, and the cob gave himself another hitch to keep his masterupon his back, progressing afterwards at a steady walk, balancing hisload: for Dyke was fast asleep, with the reins slack and his chin downupon his chest, and kept in his place by the natural clinging of hisknees, and the easy movement of the sagacious beast he rode. But all atonce he lurched forward, and instinctively clung to the horse's neck,with the result that Breezy stopped short, and began to crop the shootsof the bushes, only moving a step or two from time to time.
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