Chapter XIII An Unexpected Tragedy
“I was wondering what has become of that fourth post,” continued Jack. “It can’t have disappeared very well.”
“It doesn’t matter much,” I rejoined, “for it can only have been in one spot—the fourth corner of a square; the other three are absolutely symmetrically placed. We can easily judge of the position of the missing one.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Jack. “I don’t think it’s a trick of the Strongs, for they seem to take it for granted, as we have done, that the area is a square. I shall look about for it to-morrow while you dig.”
“I wish you’d dig while I look about!” said I; “it’s the most fatiguing thing I ever tried in my life.”
“That’s because you never did a day’s work till yesterday, my son; but cheer up, you’ll find it less fatiguing every day, take my word for it.” Jack yawned and lay down, and in a minute was fast asleep. As for me, I very nearly fell asleep also—in fact, I believe I was actually dozing—when my friend the lion suddenly roared from somewhere so close at hand that my heart went into my boots and I felt my knees tremble together as I lay. So loud was it that even Jack awoke and started to his feet.
“What on earth was that?” he said. “Did someone shoot?”
“It was a lion’s roar, close behind us here in the bush,” I said, my teeth chattering. I don’t think I am a coward, but I do hate dangers that I cannot see.
“By George!—fancy those wretched chaps over by that fire,” said Jack, “without rifles; what a state of terror they will be in!”
What a good fellow Jack was! I had never thought, in my selfishness, of the infinitely more dangerous position of the others.
At this moment the lion roared again.
“Listen to that!” continued Jack. “What a voice the brute has! It’s enough to terrify anyone, especially unarmed people. Ought we to go and stand by those chaps, think you, Peter?”
I am glad to think that I replied in the affirmative.
“And yet,” said Jack, “I’m not sure that one of us hadn’t better stop here to take care of our horses. Shall we toss up who goes? You see, it was we who disarmed the poor beggars; we can’t very well leave them unprotected when real danger comes.”
I cordially endorsed the sentiment, and though I would far rather have let our horses go by the board than separate from Jack in this crisis, I tossed up with him as to who should go and who stay.
“Heads stay—tails go,” said Jack. “You toss.”
I tossed, and the coin showed tails.
“Tails; then you go—lucky rascal!” said Jack; “you get all the fun. Shout for me if anything happens. Cæsar! there he is, roaring again, and nearer their camp. Be off, Peter, and mind your hide!”
I have said that I do not consider myself a coward, but assuredly the greatest coward in the world could not have been more frightened than was I during that most weird and uncanny walk through the darkness towards the twinkling glow of the Strongs’ camp fire, but a very few hundreds of yards away. The word darkness hardly expresses the almost opaque blackness of the night as I stumbled over hummock and thorn bush in the direction of the fire.
Beasts were abroad, it appeared, in horrible profusion. Scuttling, growling, rushing, they seemed to jump up from before and around me at almost every step, as though an army of them were stalking me, and came repeatedly within springing distance, only to lose heart as I approached, and dash away into the darkness.
I have since come to the conclusion that these were hyenas, for no other beast would be likely to be about in close proximity to a roaring lion.
The lion advertised himself freely. Once, at least, he roared within twenty yards of me, and though I held my rifle to my shoulder ready for him, I quite gave myself up for lost. But his designs were not, it appeared, directed against myself, for a moment after he roared again much nearer to the Strongs’ camp fire, and presently from beyond that point.
I could hear the Strongs talking excitedly and loudly, and could see that they were busily engaged in piling brushwood upon their fire, for at intervals it seemed to blaze up brightly and to smoke more vigorously. The lion, I could not help thinking, was prospecting both our party and theirs, and walking round and round both, working himself up to the necessary pitch of audacity for an attack.
So, stumbling, groping, creeping upon my uncanny way, I came at last within fifty yards of the Strongs’ camp. The lion had been silent now for several minutes, a fact which rendered my horror all the more intense, because I could no longer tell where the brute was, and, for all I knew, he might be at my heels or a couple of yards away on either side of me, licking his lips, and, as it were, choosing his joint in preparation for a spring.
Of a sudden I was startled by the most piercing shrieks and yells that I had ever heard. The noise came from the Strongs’ camp, and set the seal of horror upon my soul, so that I fell on my knees then and there and prayed aloud with the most intense earnestness I had ever put into prayer. Then I sprang to my feet in a flush of shame. The lion, I suddenly realised, had made his appearance among these wretched, unarmed folk, while I, their protector, knelt and prayed like a coward for the safety of my own skin!
Aroused and stimulated by this thought, I rushed madly for the camp, careless now of the darkness and danger and horror of the night, and in a moment or two had reached, breathless, the circle of light shed by the Strongs’ fire. Here a weird sight presented itself to me.
Clutterbuck knelt and gabbled prayers aloud, his eyes, almost starting from his head, fixed upon a spot just on the verge of the firelight, where James Strong stood, armed with a burning log, cursing as loudly as the other prayed, and staring into the darkness beyond.
Both started as I appeared, but both immediately looked away from me again and resumed their occupations.
“What is it?” I gasped. “Has anything happened? Where is your brother, Strong?”
“It’s the most infernal murder, that’s what it is!” shouted the fellow, turning suddenly upon me and stamping his foot; “as clear a case of murder as ever a criminal committed!”
“What has happened, man? Was it the lion?” I cried. “Stop your blithering and tell me; we may save the fellow yet!”
James Strong growled out some curse.
“Yes; go out into the dark and save him. You are a likely man to do that, you coward!” he shrieked; “you who rob men of their defences and leave them at the mercy of brute beasts. This is as clear a case of murder as need be, and you shall hang for it yet!”
Sick at heart, but not any longer with fear, I seized a burning brand, and, shouting for Jack, rushed away into the bush in the direction which I supposed the brute had taken.
But though I wandered alone for a while, and with Jack, who soon joined me, for another longer while, we found no trace of either victim or lion, and we were obliged to give up the search in despair.
And here I may say that his shriek as the lion sprang upon him was the last that was ever heard of poor Charles Strong. We picked up a piece of cloth which had been a portion of his coat, but beyond this we never found sign of the unfortunate fellow, whose fate sat like a midnight horror upon our souls for many a day.