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Dead Man's Land: Being the Voyage to Zimbambangwe of certain and uncertain, a fiction by George Manville Fenn

Chapter 14. A Pretty Dance

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_ CHAPTER FOURTEEN. A PRETTY DANCE

It was not a feather-bed; there was neither bolster nor pillow; and a single blanket laid across three sacks of Indian corn did not counteract the hard nubbly feeling. But a couple more blankets drawn over the lad right up to his chin thoroughly kept off the crisp coolness of the air on the high plateau of a country where the sun was broiling by day. Youth, health, exercise and an open-air life did the rest to make that sleeping place a perfect Elysium.

Add to the above a long watch in the darkness, and it is not surprising that as Mark Roche stretched out his legs to the fullest extent as he lay upon his back, he uttered a low, long, soft "Hah-h-h!" and the next instant was fast asleep.

How long that lasted he could not tell, but he half awoke; better still, one may say he only one quarter awoke bodily; mentally he was so to speak soaked, saturated with sleep, and his waking was only into a kind of confusion out of which he could not rouse himself.

All he knew was that something was dreadfully wrong--when--how--where-- he could not make out.

There was a great noise going on, and the darkness was something horrible. This seemed to last for a long time--seemed only, and he began to struggle as if a heavy body was lying on him and pressing him down.

It was like some terrible nightmare, and as he struggled against it he threw out his arms, half fancying that he was fighting to save himself from being suffocated in a flood that was not liquid but solid and hard. Then one hand came in contact with something soft, which he realised to be a human face, and then just a faint ray of understanding flashed through his muddled brain and he knew where he was, and that the face must be his cousin's.

Then the mental darkness closed in again and he was as confused as ever. The noise went on, and he could not tell what it was till after a short interval another ray of light dawned upon him and he caught at and shook his companion, who was sharing the sacks, and sleeping so hard that Mark's attempts to rouse him were in vain.

And then speech came, and the boy found himself muttering aloud, though it seemed to be somebody else talking. But now the power to put that and that together to some extent grew stronger.

"Oh, Dean, how you do sleep!" came from somewhere. "Here, wake up!" And he grew a little better, for he felt that his lips were touching his cousin's warm ear, while now it was another voice that said drowsily, "What's the matter?"

"Ah! that's better," the other voice ejaculated, and he heard it plainly, though it was partially smothered by the awful confusion of strange sounds that came as it were from a distance. "Oh, how dark!"

And he knew now that it was his own voice, for he was rapidly shaking off the strange feeling of mental torpidity.

"Father! Dr Robertson! Are you there?"

His words came back to him as if his face was covered with something thick, while he fully grasped the idea now that the noise that smote his ears was somewhere far away.

"I don't know what's the matter," he muttered. "Am I ill? It can't be a dream. Here, Dean, wake up!"

"What's the matter?" came again drowsily.

"I want you to listen."

"Bother! Will in the morning."

"Oh, how can you be so stupid!"

Mark was rapidly recovering now.

_Snore_!

"Will you wake up?" And this was accompanied by a shake.

"Be quiet! Want me to hit you on the nose?"

"Yes, and I want you to shake me. I'm--I'm--oh, I don't know how I feel--yes, I do," added the boy, as the power of thinking and acting now grew stronger. "Dean!"

"Oh, bother!" cried his cousin. "Now then, what is it?" And in the darkness Mark felt his hand shaken off, and from the movement knew that his cousin had risen up into a sitting position sharply and banged himself down again, the noise he made being followed instantly by a loud snore.

"Dean!" cried Mark again, renewing his attack, and this time giving the sleeper a violent shake, which roused him again.

"Now then, what is it?"

"Listen! Do you hear that dreadful noise?"

"No-o!" came sleepily. "What is it?"

The question was asked through two folds of blanket, and naturally sounded woolly.

"Lions, I think."

"Tell them to lie down."

"Oh, don't be such a fool!"

"Nogoinabe. Wha' time is it? Goo' night."

"Dozey! Oh, you sleepy old dormouse! I am sure there is something dreadful going on. We are in danger."

"Lem dange. Here, tell the doctor. Don' wake uncle, nor me."

"Oh, dear, what shall I do!" said Mark, half aloud. "Oh, my head! My head! This must be--yes, I remember; I am in the waggon--here, Dean! Dean!" And he began shaking his cousin again.

"Don't! Don't!" And there was the sound of the boy's bare feet kicking, and a snatch made as if to draw back the blankets that had been sent flying. "Oh, I will serve you out for--here, what do you want?"

"You to wake up. Can't you see how dark it is?"

"Dark?"

"Yes; quite black."

Dean was wide awake now.

"Yes, everything's as black as black."

"Well, did you expect it to be white?"

"Can't you hear that dreadful noise?"

"Yes. What is it? Oh, I am so sleepy! Uncle snoring."

"There it is again!" cried Mark wildly.

"Well, I don't care," cried Dean angrily, and he dragged his blankets over his head. "Hullo! I say! There's something the matter;" and the boy now rose to his knees. "Here, where are the guns?"

"I don't know. Yes, I do," cried Mark, feeling about. "I have got one--yes--here's yours. Let's get to the door."

"No, stop. Listen!" and Dean caught his cousin by the arm. "It's a lion. I'm sure of it."

"So am I," cried Mark--"a dozen of them. Oh, Dean, Dean! Hark at the poor bullocks! They are pulling them down, and they'll be killing those ponies. Here, let go."

"What are you going to do?"

"Going outside to shoot."

"No, no; don't do that, or we shall have them springing in here."

"But--"

"There, you needn't go now. There's somebody else shooting." For a couple of reports came from somewhere in the direction of where the fire kept burning, and then another, followed by a confused noise of bellowing oxen, trampling feet, and the deep-toned, barking roar of a lion, which dominated everything else.

"Here, Mark," cried Dean in a hoarse whisper, clinging to his cousin now tightly, "we are attacked by lions."

"Seems like it," was the reply. "Where are father and the doctor?"

"I don't know. I would say let's shout, only it would be like asking the savage animals to come."

"But we must do something. Are you loaded?" And as Mark spoke there was the sound of his raising the cocks of his piece.

"No. My hand shakes so. That's better. I could hardly do it. I say, don't you feel frightened, Mark?"

"Horribly. But look sharp. Are you ready? Let's jump out together, and then fire."

"All right. Ready now. I wish I didn't feel in such a shiver. Here, I'm ready. Perhaps it will scare the brutes."

"Hope so," said Mark, as he drew aside the folds of the tilt and crouched by the waggon chest ready to spring. "Hooray! There's somebody shouting. Now then; take hold of my hand. Let's jump together."

There was a double thud, as the boys sprang out into the darkness.

"Now then--ready?"

"Yes," cried Dean, firmly now, as soon as he had made his desperate plunge into danger.

"Fire!"

_Bang! Bang_!

"Again!" cried Mark, and directly after there was the repetition of the reports and the rustling sound of replacing the empty cartridges.

"Hi, there!" came in a voice from out of the darkness, sounding distant. "Is that you boys?"

"Yes, doctor," cried Mark. "Where's father?"

"Here, my boy. Where's your cousin?"

"I'm here, uncle."

"Good. But you two fellows ought to have stopped in the waggon."

Directly after Sir James and the doctor joined them, and a couple more shots came from a distance, in the direction where the thundering beat of hoofs was beginning to die away, and then shots again, followed by a hideous snarling and roaring, as if very near at hand several lions were quarrelling like angry cats over their prey.

"Ahoy, there!" shouted the doctor.

"Ahoy!" came from two places in the distance.

"Rally here," cried the doctor, as loud as he could shout. "Up here by the waggon!"

This was followed by the beating of feet upon the thick grass, and all the time the trampling of oxen grew more distant, while the savage snarling went on and was punctuated in the darkness every now and then by a deep-toned bark.

"This way," cried the doctor. "Come on!"

The boys' hearts beat hard at this, for the doctor's words were answered by a chorus of snarls from what Mark judged now to be a portion of the forest not many yards away; and involuntarily the boys raised their rifles to their shoulders as they glanced to right and left, trying to make out through the darkness whether the way was clear for a shot.

"Hadn't we better fire again, father?"

"No," said the doctor sharply, from close at hand. "The men are rallying, and we may hit somebody."

"Yes," said Sir James quickly.

"And besides," continued the doctor, "if we fire at where that snarling comes from it will be answered by a rush. The brutes can see in this horrid darkness."

"What are they doing?" asked Dean.

"They have pulled down a bullock, boys, and they are quarrelling over it. Can't you hear? Oh, this darkness!" cried the speaker, and he gave--so the sound indicated--a stamp of one foot.

"Is the boss there?" cried a gruff voice.

"Yes, this way, Denham," said the doctor. "Mind the lions."

"Oh, I hear them, sir. Anyone hurt?"

"I hope not," replied the doctor, as the man came nearer, rustling through the grass. "Where are your men?"

_Oomph! Oomph! Oomph_! came in a deep-toned roar, followed by a chorus of snarls.

"Old 'uns and young 'uns," said Denham, subduing his voice a little. "They don't like our being so near. I expect my chaps have shinned up the trees somewhere. That's what they would do, gentlemen; and old Brown has used those long legs of his to put him miles away by this time."

"But have you heard anything of my two men?" asked Sir James--"Dance and Bacon?"

"I've 'eard them letting go with their rifles, sir."

"And what about Dan?"

"Oh, I haven't heard anything of him, sir."

"Ahoy!" came in the little sailor's well known voice, from somewhere in the darkness.

"Ahoy!" cried the boys together.

_Roo--oomph_! _Roo--oomph_! _Roo--oomph_! issued from the spot that had now grown familiar.

"Steady, gentlemen--steady! All cats have got the savage on strong when they are at work at their grub. Wait a bit. Let's get the others together, and then we'll give the brutes a volley as near as we can."

"Cooey! Cooey!" came out of the darkness.

"This way! Here!" shouted Buck Denham.

_Roo--oomph_! _Roo--oomph_! _Roo--oomph_! came now, with a fiercer roar than ever, which roused the lion's companions to utter a furious burst of snarls.

"Cooey! Cooey!" came again.

"All right, mate," said the big driver, in a low voice. "You must find your own way now. That last bit of tongue meant, look out for squalls."

"Anybody hurt?" came in a well known voice now from close at hand, and Dan hurried up.

"I think not, Dan," whispered Mark, and then he stretched out his hand and felt for the little sailor. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, sir. I fired off all my cartridges."

"Here's someone else coming, gentlemen," said Denham, in a low, deep tone. "They are your two lads, I think."

"Yes," cried Dean eagerly. "Nobody else would have cried cooey, unless it was little Dan."

"Yes, I might, but I didn't to-night; I have been too busy."

"That you, Peter. Where's Bob Bacon?"

"Me, Mr Mark, sir?" said the latter. "Here I am, as large as life. We have been at it pretty warm. But I want it to grow light, to see if we can retrieve any of the game."

"Yah! Ain't 'it anything," growled Buck Denham.

"But where's Peter? I heard two cooeys," said Mark.

"Yes; that was me, sir. I ain't seen him."

"Well, now then, gentlemen," said Buck Denham; "all loaded?"

"'Cept me," said Dan.

"Take these. Here are some cartridges," said Sir James.

"Now then--ready?" said Denham, quite loudly, and there was another burst of roars and snarls. "Thank ye," said Denham; "that's just let us know where abouts to fire. Now, all of you let them have it, as near as you can guess; and fire low. I'd kneel down. I'll just give them a rouse up with a shout. That will make them roar again. Then you, doctor, give the word, and let 'em have it."

"Right," said the doctor.

"Ready, my lads?" whispered Buck.

There was a low murmur of assent, and the driver put one hand to his cheek. "Hullo, there, you!"

_Er_--_rr_--_oomph_! came in a roar, followed by a snarl; and this time there was a sharp crackling of bushes, as one of the savage beasts made a bound towards them.

It was all guess work, but the volley fired at the advancing brute was followed by a roar from several feline throats and a struggling plunge and trampling amidst the undergrowth, with a fiercer snarling than ever.

"Load again quickly," said the doctor, "and stand firm, my lads."

"Ay, we've got to," added Denham. "I was in hopes that those shots would have scared them; but one of them has got it pretty warm." For the violent kicking and tearing amidst the bushes went on, supplemented by the snarling and growling of the hidden beasts.

"How long is it to morning?" asked the doctor in a whisper.

"Good two hours, I should say, sir."

"Then we had better retreat to the waggons before the savage brutes take courage and come on at us."

"They won't attack, sir, as long as they have got that bullock there, unless we go near. Now, if we had only got a light we could rouse up that fire--hullo!"

For all at once, as if the man's words had been heard, there was a soft crackling amidst the embers where the fire should have been blazing, and faintly illuminated by a glow from the earth, the watchers caught sight of the face of the Illaka, looking strange and ruddy, while as the black stirred up the ashes with the haft of his spear there was enough life in them to emit a bluish golden flame which caught the twigs he threw on. The light cast upon him increased, and in a few minutes he had augmented the fire by throwing on armfuls of wood, till there was a fierce blaze which lit up the edge of the forest and made the waggons and their tilts show up as if of gold.

"Well done, Mak!" cried Denham. "That will do more than all our shooting. More wood--all you can."

The black understood him, and as snarl after snarl came from out of the forest the dry wood blazed up and the growling grew less and less.

"They're a-sneaking off, sir," said the big driver, "and I think you might give them another shot or two to hurry them."

"All together," said the doctor sharply. "Ready! Fire!"

The flashes from the mouths of the rifles looked slight in the glow of the flames, and the reports rang out loudly, to be followed by a fierce yell and a snarling roar, as, feeling awestricken by what was taking place, the boys pictured to themselves amidst the low growth the huge lion tearing about in its rage and pain.

"I'd keep quiet, gentlemen," whispered Buck. "One of us has hit another, and if he made out where we were he might charge."

The man ceased speaking as the tearing and raging about of the wounded beasts went on, but evidently growing more distant, till their snapping and snarling were almost drowned by the fierce, loud crackling of the burning fire.

"It's crawling away," whispered Mark excitedly.

"Yes, sir. He's got it," replied the driver; "but I would keep quiet, or we may bring him back to pay us."

For some minutes no one spoke, while the fire was freshly fed by the black, who looked almost diabolical as he danced about it in a strange way, ending by approaching the group, who crouched behind some bushes, which would have made but a frail breastwork had one of the lions charged.

A quarter of an hour must have elapsed before anyone spoke again, and during that time the crackling of the burning wood, which now lit up a wide circle, was the only sound that was heard.

"Do you think we may move now, Denham?" said the doctor. "Or would you fire a few more charges?"

"I don't want to waste powder and shot, sir, and I think they are all gone. Here, Mak, my lad, lions gone?"

The black made no reply, but came cautiously close up and listened.

"Come," he said, and in obedience to his brief command Buck, the doctor, and Bob Bacon ranged themselves with presented rifles on either side, and, not to be outdone, the two boys ran forward to join the advancing party as well.

The spot where the feline marauders had been busy over their prey was not above sixty yards from the last waggon, and as the little party advanced, gaining confidence from the silence that reigned, and reducing the distance to about half, gazing searchingly the while at what looked like a breastwork of leaves lit up by the fire, the silence seemed to be awful, and as if moved by one impulse all stopped short at the end of another ten yards.

"Must be gone, I think, gentlemen," whispered Buck; "but be ready to fire, for they are treacherous beasts, and one may be lying there badly wounded but with life enough in him to do mischief after all."

"Hadn't we better wait till daylight?" whispered the doctor.

"It will mean so long, sir," said the driver, rather gruffly. "I think we might risk it now, Mak," he cried, and he added a few words in the black's dialect. "He's willing, gentlemen," said the driver quietly. "Let's all go on again."

Then slowly and cautiously the little line advanced, till all at once the black stopped, holding his spear point low and the haft pressed into the ground, for there was a savage roar, and a huge lion, which looked golden, made a tremendous bound right out into the light.

Dean uttered a cry, and the brute couched, snarling fiercely, with the boy lying beneath the monster's outstretched paws. _

Read next: Chapter 15. Who Watched The Fire?

Read previous: Chapter 13. "Don't Wake The Wrong Man"

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