"Never mind the row, old fellow. I wonder what they've got for supper!"



CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

THE PIGMY'S DIVE.

The party were seated in their shelter close under the highest wall of the ancient ruins, well screened from the ardent rays of the tropic sun, which had not yet risen sufficiently high to interfere with their comfort, and for about the third time the boys were giving their account of the previous evening's adventure, with nothing more visible to show than a few scratches from the stones and the traces of pricks from the many thorns, when the doctor said, as if he were delivering a lecture, and frowning severely the while, "Care, care, care. If ever our eyes should be called upon to carefully discriminate where we are going, there never can be such need for discrimination as here."

"You are right, doctor," said Sir James. "You must be careful, boys; eh, doctor?"

"Yes," said the latter. "You see, we have done nothing yet to clear away the tangle of growth that covers the stones and the remains of old buildings. I fully believe that this place is honey-combed with passages and cell-like remains, and that there may be dozens of old wells and other reservoirs of water. There is the little river yonder, of course, but if, as I fully believe, this place for miles round was all roughly and strongly fortified, it seems quite probable that the inhabitants, who were gold-seekers, were in the course of generations besieged by the many enemies who coveted their wealth and resented the coming of strangers to settle in their land. If this were the case, in this heated district water would have been most valuable, and the approaches to the river were doubtless guarded by the enemy. Thinking of all this, one sees good reason for the existence of such a well-like place as you encountered yesterday."

"Yes," said Sir James, "and I quite agree with you, doctor, that if we could find them where they are buried by the old buildings that have crumbled in, and overgrown by bushes and creepers, there are scores of such places."

"Well," said the doctor, "one would be sufficient for our supply of water, but we must, if possible, find out as many as we can for our own safety."

"So as not to fall down any of them?" said Mark. "Dean and I don't want another such adventure as we had last night."

"No," said his father; "it might be very serious. Let it be a lesson to you, boys."

"It was, father," said Mark, and he gave his cousin a meaning look, which was returned, the latter saying to himself, "It takes some of the conceit out of you, old fellow."

The conversation then turned upon the disappearance of the two blacks, and Dunn's ominous words as to the possibility of their non-return.

"I hope he is not right," said the doctor, shaking his head, "but I am afraid he is. From your description, boys, it is quite evident that the one made the other fully understand about the missing rifle."

"Oh, but I don't want to think, sir, that those two poor fellows are going to get themselves killed in trying to bring it back."

"Neither do I, my boy," said Sir James, "and pretty well surrounded as we are by these people, it is rather a lesson to us, for the doctor and I have been talking about it that we can't afford to lose two such useful guides and friends."

"Oh, we shan't lose them, uncle," said Dean cheerily. "They will come trotting in some day—I mean Pig will, so as to keep up with Mak's long strides."

"Well, I hope so," said Sir James, "and I hope too that the little feud between us and our visitors will come to an end. What do you think, doctor?"

"I cannot commit myself, sir, to giving any judgment upon the matter, but I hope that our display of firmness, and the possession of weapons that we know how to use, may keep them at a distance."

"I hope so," said Sir James, "but there will be no relaxing of our watchfulness, and it will be very hard upon us after a hard day's work over our researches, this taking it in turns to guard against visitors in search of what they can annex."

"Nocturnal burglars," said Dean.

"Oh, we shall get used to it, father. But what are we going to do to-day?"

"Ask the doctor," said Sir James. "I give myself up entirely to his guidance. Someone will have to stay in camp, of course, on guard, and ready to fire or whistle and give notice of the approach of any of the blacks. What do you propose, doctor?"

"Taking two men with us to cut and slash away the growth at the first place that we think worthy of investigation; and the sooner we are off the better, before the sun gets too much power."

"There's plenty of shade," said Mark.

"Yes, my boy, but the trees and these towering walls cut off what breeze there is, and I am afraid that we shall find the heat sometimes too great to bear."

But in the excitement and labour of the next few days the heat was forgotten, and the interest of the discovery amongst the old ruins was quite sufficient to keep all on the qui vive for any fresh object upon which they might stumble.

They had talked about the two blacks, of whom they had seen nothing since they had plunged in amongst the ruins of what seemed to have been the huge fortified temple, and in spite of the two lads devoting a good deal of time to discovering some opening through the old walls by which they might have reached the open country, their efforts were quite without success. It was certainly possible that they might have helped one another to reach the top of the lowest stretch of wall, and lowered one another down the other side, but Mark argued that they would not have done this. There must be some secret opening or slit through which they could have squeezed, one well known to them.

"I feel that if we keep on searching," he said, "we shall find it sooner or later."

This was said in the hearing of Buck Denham, who suddenly exclaimed, "But look here, gentlemen; you don't think, do you—" He stopped short, and the boys waited for nearly a minute, before Mark burst out with, "Yes, we do, Buck—lots."

"Yes, I suppose so, sir," said the man, rather sulkily.

"Well, go on. What were you going to say?"

"Only that Mr Dean here slipped down that hole."

"Well, we know that," said Dean shortly. "You needn't bring that up."

"No," cried Mark. "Why did you?"

"Didn't mean any harm, sir. I was only going to say that if you two gents met with an accident like that, mightn't them two niggers have had one too?"

"Ay, ay, messmate," growled Dan, "and being blacks not have the pluck and patience of our two young gentlemen here as helped theirselves and got out."

"Pluck and patience!" thought Mark, as he stole a glance at his cousin.

"Patience and pluck!" said Dean to himself, as he met his cousin's eye.

"Why, Buck," cried Mark, "you have regularly spoilt my day."

"Me, sir?" said the big fellow wonderingly. "Not spoilt yourn too, Mr Dean?"

"Yes, you have," said the lad addressed. "You have set me thinking that the poor fellows have tumbled down somewhere and been drowned, or else are regularly trapped in some deep cellar-like passage underground, where they have lost their way."

"Well, that means, gentlemen, that what we ought to do is to go for a big hunt in and out amongst the ruins till we find them, or something else."

"Yes," said Dan, "something else; and that would be like killing two birds with one stone."

"Come on, then," cried Mark, "only this time we will take two ropes and a lantern, and we will go at once. Look here, Dean, we will start from where we saw them disappear amongst the bushes. Shall we take our guns?"

"I would, gentlemen," said Buck. "You see, you never know what you are coming against."

"No; but they are a bother to carry."

"Oh, we will carry them, sir—sling 'em."

"There, we needn't all go. Run and fetch what we want, you two, and we had better take a canteen or two of water and something to eat, in case we lose ourselves. But no, we had better all go together, Dean, and rig up, or we shall be sure to find we have left something behind that we ought to have taken."

"Especially matches," said Dean.

They were about half way to the opening in front of their shed, known generally as the camp, when Dean suddenly uttered an ejaculation.

"What is it?" cried his cousin.

"The blacks."

"Ah! Where are father and the doctor?" cried Mark excitedly. "And we are wandering about here without arms."

"I did not mean the savage blacks," cried Dean.

"Why, you don't mean—"

"Yes, I do. Hooray! There they are, along with Dunn and the ponies—an old croaker, to make believe that they might never come back!"

Just then Dunn pointed in their direction, and the two blacks turned and caught sight of them, to begin marching slowly forward, Mak shouldering his spear and stepping out with quite a military stride, while the pigmy strutted along with an assumption of braggart conceit that was amusing in the extreme.

"Well," cried Mark, as they met, "what luck? You haven't found the rifle?"

"Yes. Find 'em."

"Where?"

"Stolen. Nigger."

"But where was it?" cried the boys together.

Mak pointed to the pigmy, who nodded and laughed, and by degrees the little party managed to elicit from their two scouts that ever since they started they had been in hiding near the ruins, waiting and watching in the belief that sooner or later whoever had stolen the rifle would come again for further plunder.

"But you have been away for days," said Dean. "Have you been hunting too, so as to get something to eat?"

This was rather a long speech for Mak, to whom it was addressed, to fully comprehend, but when it had been repeated to him simplified as far as possible by Mark and the two men, the black nodded cheerfully and explained that he had waited every night till they were quite fast asleep, and then the pigmy had crept up like a dog or a baboon to help himself to what they wanted, and then stolen away again to watch.

"But he couldn't have done that," cried Mark; "certainly not when I was on guard. It must have been your turn, Dean, and you went to sleep."

"That I declare I didn't!" cried the accused, and the two boys now gazed severely at their men, who looked at one another, as if feeling guilty, "I swear I didn't, messmate. I couldn't have slept for thinking that some of the niggers would come stealing, and steal my life," grunted Dan.

"Same here," growled Buck.

A rough cross-examination ensued—a very hard one too, for Mak nodded his replies to fit his misunderstanding; but at last the investigators felt convinced that they were only listening to the truth, and that, thanks to his size, activity, and possible resemblance to some animal, the pigmy had had no difficulty about stealing into the camp for supplies.

"That's right enough, gentlemen. I believe the little beggar could tickle you on one side and make you turn over, thinking it was a fly, while he helped hisself on the other and went off again like a monkey."

During the latter part of the examination Mark's father and the doctor joined them, full of satisfaction that their forebodings were false, and glad to welcome the friendly blacks again. They too learned that Mak and the pigmy had kept up their watch till the last night, when they had come upon two of the Illakas stealing into the camp. But one of them got away, and the manner of his escape was explained in pantomime by Mak, who made his little companion show how it occurred; and this, it seemed, was by his being pursued right up to the top of one of the further walls and then right along it in the darkness till he could get no further and had to jump, the Pig making it all clear as daylight, to use Buck's words, for he took them to the place, and while they stood below watching, the little fellow mounted to the top, then ran right along and dived right off.

"Good heavens!" cried the doctor. "The poor fellow must be killed!"

"Yes," said Mark's father, and he involuntarily took out his handkerchief to wipe his moist hands.

"Here, quick!" said the doctor. "He must be lying somewhere below there;" and he made for the imagined spot close by, followed by the rest, evidently to Mak's delight, for he began to grin hugely and raised up suspicion in the boys that their sympathy was being wasted, for all at once Pig hopped back on to the top of the wall, baboon fashion, to perch there like one of the hideous little beasts, none the worse for his leap down into the tree top that he had selected.

"Confound the fellow!" muttered the doctor. "He gave me quite a scare! But look here. You, Dunn, I don't understand. Make them tell us what became of the other."

Dunn turned to Mak and spoke a word or two to him in his own language, when the black stared at him stolidly and then turned away.

"What does that mean?" said Mark. "Wouldn't he tell you?"

"No," replied Dunn sadly; and he gave the boy a very meaning look.

"Why, you don't mean to say—that—"

"Yes; don't bother him, or he may go off. Afraid. The boss mightn't like it."

"Not like it?"

"No. Saw him cleaning his spear."

Glances were exchanged, and the looks seemed in silent language to tell the tragic story that either Mak or his little companion had speared and afterwards buried the enemy they had overcome.

"I don't like this, doctor," said Sir James. "It's tragedy. What can we do?"

"Nothing," said the doctor gravely.

"But these men—for I suppose we must call that little savage a man, though he looks a child—"

"The big herculean black is no bigger in intellect. If they have killed a brother savage I cannot feel that our consciences are to blame. The men were here to rob, and if we had caught them in the act I honestly believe that it might have cost us our lives."

"Probably," said Sir James; "but we must make them understand our utter abhorrence of the deed, and threaten punishment for the act."

"No, Sir James. Remember the old saying, Example is better than Precept. I feel sure that if we interfere with them with any stringency of action they will forsake us at once."

"Well, boys," said Sir James, "I would rather give up the expedition at once and make our way back, than have such horrors as this occurring. Here, what does this mean?" he continued, for Mak came forward with his little companion, both looking joyous and jubilant, Mak talking away and putting in a word of English now and then—words which constituted "come", "show," and "gun."

"Oh, that's plain enough, father," cried Mark. "They have got the gun."

The little party followed the two blacks at once, and to their great surprise they were led into the temple square and across it till they were near to the big wall. Then both the doctor and Sir James stopped short.

"This is too horrible," said Sir James angrily. "Come back, boys. They want to show us where they buried that unfortunate prowler."

"I am glad of that," whispered Dean. "What horrible wretches these blacks are!"

"Ugh! Yes," whispered back Mark, with a shudder. "Come along. I shall begin to hate myself for having been so friendly with them."

The two blacks stood looking at one another in amazement, as they saw the others moving away. But directly after Mak literally bounded before them and began waving his hands as if trying to drive back a flock of sheep.

"No go away!" he shouted. "No go. Gun! Gun! Gun!" And he pointed to the loose heap of sand and stones that had been piled over the old burial place.

"What's that?" said the doctor. "Gun?"

"Gun! Gun! Gun!" shouted Mak excitedly, and the little pigmy bounded on before them to the heap and began signing to them, pointing down the while.

"Doctor! Uncle!" cried Dean. "I believe they mean that the gun is buried there."

"Gun! Gun! Gun!" cried Mak, and he bounded after his little companion, to take his place on the other side of the heap, and began to imitate his gestures, looking at the boys now, and shouting, "Gun! Gun! Gun!"

"Oh, do be quiet!" cried Mark angrily.

Then in a questioning tone he looked at the blacks, pointed to the heap, and repeated the word. Both began to dance now with delight, pointing down and making signs as if scraping a hole in the heap before them.

"Well," said Dean, "if the gun's there don't keep on dancing like a pair of black marionettes. Dig it out;" and he imitated the blacks' signs of scraping away the loose rubble.

Mak nodded his head eagerly, and shrank back, a movement imitated by Pig.

"No, no," said Mark; "don't go. Dig it out."

The black looked at him enquiringly.

"Dig?" he said.

"Yes; both of you dig it out," cried Dean.

To the great surprise of the boys the two blacks dashed at them, caught them by the wrist, drew them close up to the heap, and tried to bend them down so that they might draw away the loose rubbish.

"Oh, no, you don't," said Mark merrily, snatching away his wrist. "I am not going to have my hand used as a trowel to save yours, you lazy beggar. Here, Dean, get hold of Pig and do as I do. Let's give them an object lesson."

The little fellow smiled with pleasure as Dean caught him by the wrist, and then the two boys, to use Mark's expressions, proceeded to use the black palms and digits as trowels; but the smiles of both blacks changed to angry frowns. They snatched their hands away and backed off from the heap, Mak shaking his head fiercely.

"Well, that's cool," said Mark. "Here, come back;" and he pointed to the heap and stamped his foot. "We are not going to do the dirty work and let you keep your hands clean, my fine fellows. Come—dig out— gun!"

Mak shook his head angrily and imitated Mark's action of stamping his foot and pointing to the heap.

"Dig—out—gun," he said, imitated the while by the pigmy, who repeated the words "Dig—dig" to Dean.

"No—no—you two!" cried Mark.

"No—no—you two!" cried Mak; and he pointed again at the heap, running close up to it and pointing to where some parched up fern leaves had been scattered about.

He only stayed there a moment, and then darted away, to stand with his little companion, shaking his head and chattering away as he energetically kept on signing to the boys to act, and shouting.

"Gun! Gun!"

"All right, gentlemen; never mind," said Buck good-humouredly. "These niggers are mighty particular about doing just what work they like and no more. Me and my mate will soon fish the gun out if it's there. They seem to think that as they have found the place where it's buried their job's done."

"No," said Dunn dismally.

"What do you know about it?" growled Buck.

"Been here five years," said the man sadly, quite in a tone which seemed to suggest that he wished he had never seen the place. "Won't go because they know people have been buried there. It's where you dug out the bones."

"Ah!" said the doctor. "Yes, that must be it. These people fear the dead more than they do the living."

"Oh, that's it!" cried Mark. "Don't you remember how they wouldn't go near after we had found the bones?"

"No, no, Buck—Dunn; we'll do it, and show them how cowardly they are."

The two men drew back, and while the blacks shifted a little further away and close together watched, with their faces drawn with horror, the boys bent down and tore away the dead fronds of the fern.

"Here, it's all right," cried Dean. "Hooray, Mark! Here's your gun. Why, they've only buried the stock and half the barrels."

For there, lightly covered with stones and sand, were the barrels of the missing gun, fully six inches quite exposed.

"Here, let me come," cried Mark.

"No; first find," cried Dean, seizing the rifle by the barrels and giving it a jerk which drew it right out, and then uttering a yell of horror he dropped it, for as he tugged a tiny snake thrust its head out of one of the barrels and opened its jaws menacingly, then closed them, and the sun shone upon its flickering forked tongue, which darted out again and again through the natural opening in the closed jaws.

"Ah! Take care!" cried Sir James; and the two blacks turned as if moved by the same impulse and scrambled to the nearest pile of stones, to stand there holding on to one another, their superstition strengthened by what they believed to be instant punishment being brought down upon the heads of those who had dared to disturb the resting-place of the dead.

"Oh, I say, Dean!" cried Mark, as he picked up the double rifle, noting as he raised it from the ground that the snake had shrunk back out of sight into its novel refuge. "I'll soon settle him," he said. "Yes, all right," he continued, as he raised the gun so that he could examine the breech. "It's all right; it's loaded. I'll soon finish him;" and raising the piece higher, holding it as if it were a pistol, he drew trigger, and a volley of echoes followed the report, the two blacks being already in full flight.

"Anybody see him go?" said Mark merrily, and as he spoke he let the rifle slide through his hands till he grasped the muzzle, while the butt rested between his feet. "New way of killing snakes," cried the boy; and then with a look of horror, wild-eyed and strange, he held the muzzle as far from him as he could, half stunned by realising the fact that he had fired the wrong barrel, as he saw the little snake glide rapidly out of the mouth of the second barrel, play for a moment or two over his hands, and then drop in amongst the loose stones and disappear.

"Mark, my boy!" cried Sir James excitedly. "Don't say you are bitten!"

The boy drew a deep sigh, his face turning ghastly white the while, and then, "I must, father. It was only a sharp prick, but—"



CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

THE DOCTOR'S LANCET.

There was a peculiar dreamy look in the injured boy's eyes, as he turned them from his father to Dean and back.

"Here, let me come," cried the doctor. "Let him sit down on that stone—feel faint, my lad?"

"No-o," faltered Mark; "only strange and queer. Is it a poisonous snake?"

"I don't know. I hope not," said the doctor. "I only had a glimpse of it, and it's gone. Where did you feel the prick?"

"In this finger. No, no—don't touch it!"

"Nonsense! Be a man. I am not going to hurt you. Did either of you get a good sight of the snake?"

"I did, sir," said Buck, "and it must have been a poisonous one."

"Why must it?" said the doctor sharply.

"Because the niggers run away as soon as they saw it, sir," said Dan. "Look at them up yonder;" and he pointed to where the two blacks were perched on the top of the wall. "They know, sir."

"Oh, yes, they know a great deal," said the doctor, shortly, as he busied himself pressing the sides of a little speck of a wound which pierced the boy's skin, now with one nail, now with both at the same time, and making Mark wince.

"You are hurting him a good deal," said Sir James.

"Do him good," said the doctor, shortly, "and take off the faintness. Now, Buck, I want to make sure," continued the doctor, who from the smattering of knowledge he had obtained from reading was looked up to by everyone present as being master of the situation in the emergency. "What sort of a head had the snake?"

"Nasty-looking head, sir! and it kept sticking out its sting with two pyntes to it."

"Pooh!" ejaculated the doctor, as he busied himself over the tiny puncture. "But was it a broad spade-shaped head?"

"Spade-shaped, sir? What, square? Oh, no, it warn't that."

"Bah!" ejaculated the doctor. "I meant spade-shaped—the spade that you see on a pack of cards."

"I couldn't be sure, sir. It was so quick, you see. But I should say it was more like a diamond."

"Beg pardon, sir," cried Dan; "I think that the place ought to be sucked. I'll do it."

"Thanks. Good lad," said the doctor. "You are quite right;" and he gave the little sailor a quick nod as he took the advice himself, held Mark's index finger to his lips, and drew hard at the tiny puncture, trying to draw out any noxious matter that might have been left in the wound, and removing the finger from his lips from time to time to rid his mouth of any poison.

"Here, you, Dean," he said, upon one of these occasions, "slip that silk handkerchief from your neck, twist it a little, and now tie it round his arm just above the elbow. That's right—no, no, don't play with it—tie it as tightly as you can—never mind hurting him. I want to stop the circulation."

He placed his lips to the wound again and drew hard; then speaking once more—

"Harder. Now, you, Sir James; you are stronger. Tighten the ligature as much as you can. You, Dean, put your hand in my breast-pocket— pocket-book. Open it and take out a lancet."

"There isn't one here, sir."

"Bah! No; I remember. Get out your knife, my boy."

"There's a lancet in that, sir, you know, and a corkscrew, and tweezers too. Here's the lancet, sir;" and the boy drew out the little tortoiseshell instrument slipped into the handle of the handsome knife which his uncle had presented him with before the start.

"Now, then, Mark; I am going to operate."

"Very well, sir," said Mark, calmly enough. "You had better take the finger off close down to the joint, for fear the poison has got as far as that."

The doctor smiled.

"Is it absolutely necessary?" said Sir James anxiously.

The doctor gave him a peculiar look which Dean looked upon as horribly grim.

"I see two chaps who were bit by snakes out in 'Stralia, gentlemen," said Dan, "and one of them died; and they said that if there had been someone there who had known how to cut his arm off so as he shouldn't bleed to death, it would have saved his life."

"Kept the pison from running right through him, mate," growled Buck, with a look of sympathy at the injured lad.

"That's so, messmate," continued Dan; "but they sucked t'other one where he was stung for ever so long. He got better."

"Now, then," said the doctor sharply, "no more anecdotes, if you please;" and as he spoke he made a slight cut across the speck-like puncture with the keen-pointed lancet, so that the blood started out in a pretty good-sized bead.

"Hurt you, my lad?" he asked, while Dean looked on in horror.

"Just a little," said Mark. "But hadn't you better do more than that?"

"No," said the doctor coolly. "There is a little poison there, and the bleeding will relieve it. It has begun to fester."

"What, so soon?" said Sir James.

"Yes," was the calm reply. "Now, Dean, I must come to you for another of your surgical instruments—the tweezers."

"Yes," cried the boy excitedly; and in his hurry he broke his thumb nail in drawing the tweezers out of the haft of the knife, for the instrument was a little rusted in.

"Now," said the doctor, as he pressed the two little spring sides of the tweezers right down into the cut and got hold of something.

"Oh! hurts!" cried Mark.

"Yes, but it would have hurt more if I had taken your finger off," said the doctor, laughing. "There we are," he continued, as he drew out a sharp glistening point and held it up in the sun. "There's your snake sting, my boy, and the little cut will soon heal up. There, suck the wound a little yourself, and draw out the poison."

"But, doctor," cried Sir James, "surely a venomous snake injects the poison through hollow fangs. Are you sure that that is a tooth?"

"No, sir," said the doctor. "That is the point of one of those exceedingly sharp thorns that we are so infested with here. Look at it;" and he held out the tweezers for everyone to examine the point. "It's a false alarm, Mark, my lad. I can see no sign of any snake bite."

"But I felt it!" cried Mark, as he stared at the thorn.

"I can't see any mark, and if the snake did bite it was only a prick with one of its tiny sharp teeth. Look, Sir James; you see there's no sign of any swelling, and no discoloration such as I believe would very soon appear after the injection of venom."

"But what's that?" said Sir James anxiously, pointing.

"That? That's a thorn prick," said the doctor.

"Well, but that?"

"That's the stain from some crushed leaf."

"Well, that, then?" cried Sir James angrily at finding the doctor so ready to give explanations to his doubts.

"That's another prick."

"Tut, tut, tut! Well, that?"

"That's a scratch."

"Well, that, then?" cried Sir James, almost fiercely. "There's the discoloration you said would appear."

"Oh," said the doctor, laughing; "that's dirt!"

Sir James made no answer, but snatching a handkerchief from his pocket he moistened a corner between his lips, passed it over the clear skin of his son's wrist, and the dark mark passed away.

"Here, Dean," said the doctor, "hands up! That's right; draw back your shirt sleeve."

The boy obeyed.

"Look here, Sir James," said the doctor, and he pointed with the thorn he held between the tweezers. "You see that—and that—and that?"

"Oh, those are only pricks I got in the bushes, sir, the other day," said Dean sharply.

"Yes, I see," said the doctor, "and you had better let me operate upon this one. It has begun to fester a little too."

As he spoke the doctor pressed the little dark spot which showed beneath the boy's white skin.

"Oh, you hurt!" cried Dean, flinching. "Yes, there's a thorn in there, and I see there's another half way up your arm, Mark, my lad. You had better try to pick that out with a needle. It is all a false alarm, Sir James, I am thankful to say. Snake bites are very horrible, but you must recollect that the great majority of these creatures are not furnished with poison fangs. I was in doubt, myself, at first, but the fact that the puncture was so large, and unaccompanied by another— venomous snakes being furnished with a pair of fangs that they have the power to erect—was almost enough to prove to me that what we saw was only produced by a thorn."

"I beg your pardon, doctor," said Sir James, grasping him by the hand. "I could not help thinking you were dreadfully callous and cool over what has been agony to me. I am afraid I was horribly disbelieving and annoyed."

"Don't apologise, sir," replied the doctor. "I did seem to treat it all very cavalierly, but I had a reason for so doing. I wanted to put heart into my patient to counteract the remarks which were being made about snake bites and treating them by amputation. Now, Mark, do you feel well enough to handle your gun again?"

"Oh, yes, quite," cried the boy, starting up; and getting possession of his rifle he raised it up, fired the remaining cartridge, and then opening the breech held it up, to treat it as a lorgnette, looking through the barrels.

"There are no snakes in here now," said the boy, speaking quite cheerfully, "but the night damp has made a lot of little specks of rust."

"Let me clean it, sir," cried Dan. "I'll wash out the barrels and give it a good 'iling."

"Yes, do," said Mark, who began to suck his finger.

"Why, I say, Mark," cried Dean, "I never thought of it before: that's the finger you asked me to get the thorn out of that day after we got back from my slip into that hole."

"Eh?" exclaimed Mark, looking at him doubtfully.

"Why, of course! Don't you remember?"

"No," said Mark. "I feel quite stupid this morning, after this."

"Try to think, my boy," cried Sir James impatiently. "It would set all our minds at rest."

"Why, to be sure, Mark," cried his cousin. "Don't you remember? You said you could not do it yourself because it was in your right finger and it was such a bungle to handle a pin with your left hand."

Mark stared at his cousin for a few moments, and gazed round at those who were waiting to hear him speak; and then a gleam of light seemed to dart from his eyes as he cried excitedly, "Why, of course! I remember now; and you couldn't get it out with the pin, and you said it was a good job too, for a brass pin was a bad thing to use, and that we would leave it till we could get a big needle from Dan, such as he used for mending his stockings."

"Hear, hear!" cried the little sailor, by way of corroboration as to his handling of a needle.

"And then we forgot all about it," cried Dean.

"Yes," cried Mark. "Oh, I say, I am sorry! What a fuss I have been making about nothing!"



CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

A FAMILY PARTY.

"I don't like to talk about it," said the doctor, "but I am afraid of what those two black fellows have done."

"Yes," said Sir James; "there is an ugly suggestion about it. But say what you are thinking, doctor."

The doctor was silent, and the boys listened for his next words with strained ears.

"I tell you what I think," he said, at last. "I am afraid that it may cause us great trouble—the great trouble of a visit from a hostile party of neighbouring savages."

"To take revenge," said Sir James, "for the injury or death of their friends?"

"Yes," said the doctor.

"But why should they think that we hurt them, when it was done by Mak and the pigmy?"

"Because they may associate us with them," replied the doctor. "Still, there is the hope that they may not know we are on friendly terms; but it is a very faint hope, and I am disposed to say that we ought to give up and make our way back to the station."

"Oh, that would be such a pity," said Mark. "This is such a wonderful place, with so much to find out yet."

"Yes," put in Dean.

"Well," said Sir James, "I feel like the boys do."

"And I must own," said the doctor, "that I should bitterly regret having to go from a neighbourhood where we cannot stir without coming upon something to interest us."

"Then don't let's go," cried Mark. "We are a strong party, and if we were attacked we could defend ourselves. A few shots would scare an enemy away."

"You had better be silent, Mark," said the doctor. "I shall be tempted to run the risk."

"Let's go on tempting him," said Dean, laughing; and Sir James smiled.

"We may be only frightening ourselves with shadows, doctor," he said, "and it is quite possible that our visitors were only one or two wandering blacks."

"I hope you are right, Sir James," said the doctor; "but the finding of that old fellow when we first came, and the way in which he disappeared, lead me to suppose that we are not so lonely as we seem. Well, if we stay, the great thing is to keep a most stringent watch night by night, and always to be ready against surprise."

These last words of the doctor's decided the matter, and the rest of the day on which they were spoken was devoted to a reconnaissance made by the boys and their captain, several of the nearest kopjes being ascended and the glasses they had with them brought to bear. But nothing was seen till the last kopje was ascended prior to journeying back to the waggons, when Dean in sweeping the sides of a slope half a mile away suddenly gave the alarm.

"There they are!" he cried.

The doctor snatched out his glass, focussed it upon the indicated spot, and closed it again with a laugh.

"Yes, there they are," he cried. "Look, Mark."

"I am looking," replied the boy, who was focussing the objects that had startled his cousin.

"Well, do you see them?" said the doctor.

"Yes, dozens of them, with their old women behind them carrying their babies. Oh, I say, Dean, you are a fellow! Monkeys—baboons."

"No! Are they?" cried Dean, twiddling the focussing nut of his glass with trembling fingers. "Why, so they are!"

That night careful watch was kept, and the following day and those succeeding were devoted to research after research among the wonderful ruins, the men—who were not troubled by the doctor's misgivings, of which they were kept in ignorance—working most enthusiastically; and scarcely a day passed without spade and shovel laying bare some records of the ancient inhabitants of the place.

Gold was not found, in quantity, but they constantly came upon traces. In one place shut in by walls there were the remains of a smelting furnace, and with it old crucibles that showed patches of glaze with traces of gold still within them.

Moulds too were found, into which molten gold had been evidently poured. These the doctor declared to be formed of the mineral known as soapstone, and pointed out in them specks of gold still adhering to the glaze.

On other days fresh attempts were made to explore the ruins. Cautious descents were accomplished down holes which had evidently been excavated to the water, of which a pretty good supply was found, proving that the adjacent river made its way right beneath the ruins; and the more the bushes and overgrown vines were cleared away the more the tired party returned to their kraal ready to declare that their task would prove endless, Mark saying that the more they found the more there was to find; and in the evening, while Sir James dozed off to sleep in the soft darkness after a weary day, the doctor would always be fresh enough to interest the boys with his remarks and surmises about the old people who at one time must have thickly populated the miles upon miles of ruins.

At last when the expected seemed most distant, and the exploring party were busy turning over the ruins of a newly creeper-stripped wall, a sharp whistle came from the camp, where Dunn Brown had been left to keep watch over the bullocks and ponies, while Dan was busy in his kitchen, as he called it, roughly built up in the shelter of one of the walls. Before a second whistle rang out everyone was returning at the double, or by as near an approach thereto as the rock and stone encumbered way would admit.

Mark was one of the first to reach their rugged stronghold, and there his eyes lighted at once upon a little party of five blacks, who were squatting down, spear in hand, solemnly watching Dan, while perched together upon the sheltering wall and looking very solemn, were Mak and the pigmy watching them, Dan going on busily the while, roasting and stewing the results of the previous day's hunting expedition, as if the visitors were of no account.

There was nothing alarming in the visit, the black party seeming perfectly inoffensive, and after sitting like so many black statues for about a couple of hours, the doctor proposed that some food should be given to them, and after receiving a goodly portion of roast antelope and mealie cakes, they took their departure, to the great satisfaction of the boys.

This visit gave rise to a long discussion and a good deal of questioning of their two blacks; but very little could be obtained from them beyond grunts and scowls, which showed anything but a friendly feeling towards their visitors.

Then more days passed without further alarm; but the feeling was general that the camp was no longer safe; the night guard was more strict than ever, and it was an understood thing that the expedition was to be prepared for any emergency, while everything was kept ready for an immediate start for a return to the station.



CHAPTER THIRTY NINE.

THE SUDDEN ATTACK.

"Mr Mark, sir!" This in Dunn Brown's most dreary tones, and before the boy could answer there came, in almost a piteous wail, "Mr Dean, sir!"

"Hillo!" cried Mark, from where he and his cousin were seated cross-legged like tailors, in the shade of one of the walls, repairing damages, as they called it—that is to say, they were very untidily sewing, up thorn-made tears in the jackets laid across their knees.

It was a delightfully still afternoon, with the air limpid and clear, while the sun threw down the shadows of wall and tree of a dense velvety black. The doctor and Sir James were away somewhere, exploring, alone; Mak and the pigmy had picked out a good sunshiny spot where they could sleep, while the rest of the party were not far away and busy clearing out an excavation that they had begun the previous day.

All was so still that Dunn Brown's curiously intoned high-pitched calls sounded peculiarly shrill, and almost startled Dean in his clumsy manipulation of his needle, making him prick his hand.

"Oh, there you are, gentlemen; I couldn't find you, nor anybody else."

"Well, what's the matter?" said Mark.

"The—blacks—sir," said the man looking down sadly at Mark's torn jacket.

"Sewing," said Mark, noting the direction of the man's eyes.

"Yes, sir—Dan—sews—best."

"Well, I know that," cried Mark. "What about the blacks?"

"Come again."

"Bother the blacks!" cried Mark. "Look here, Dunn; I won't have it. We won't have it," he added; "eh, Dean?"

"No," cried Dean, sucking his pricked finger and looking very ill-humoured. "A set of black beggarly cadgers! They are getting to think they have a right to be fed. Go and start them off, Dunn. Why didn't you do it before?"

"I did, sir, yesterday. They've come again."

"Send them about their business."

"Rather afraid—" began the man.

"Don't believe you, Dunn," said Mark. "You are not a coward."

"No."

"Well then, send them off."

"Meddled with the ponies yesterday."

"Hallo! I didn't hear of that."

"No, sir. Big fellow began to pull the halter."

"Oh, and what did you do?"

"Knocked him down."

"You never said so."

"No.—Afraid—mean trouble."

"And now here they are back again? Well, come along, Dean; let's see what they mean. Where's the doctor?"

"Gone off with uncle."

"Bother! Well, we must do the bossing."

"Shall I whistle for the men?" said Dean.

"Oh, no. They would think that we were afraid, and I don't want that. Come along, Dunn. Where are the beggars now?"

"Close—Dan's store."

"Oh, I say, that won't do," cried Mark, and the next minute the sight before him showed him plainly that it was quite time to interfere, for there in the sheltered store made of a kind of thatch spread over some roughly piled up stones, close to what Dan called his kitchen, were a party of the blacks—some fifteen or twenty, at a glance—helping themselves from a bag of mealies.

"Come along, Dean," shouted the boy, and without a moment's hesitation he made a rush at the grinning black who was holding up the edge of the bag for his companions to clutch out its contents as hard as ever they could.

"Come out of that, you thief!" cried Mark; and he charged right at the fellow, when to his great surprise the black turned upon him and held him tightly by the arms. "What!" cried Mark, wrenching himself away. "Here, Dean—Dunn! Help! We can't stand this. Ah, would you!" he continued, as the man, with lowering face, dashed at him fiercely with extended hands to seize him by the throat.

This was too much for the English lad, and without any thought of what might be the consequences, he met the chief marauder with a straightforward blow from his left, which took effect upon the black's nose, staggering him for the moment with surprise, and making his companions stare.

Dean had felt startled, but the effect of his cousin's blow made him give vent to a loud "Ha, ha!" for the black, who was quite unarmed, placed his hands to the prominent organ which had received Mark's blow, took them down again very much stained, stared at them and uttered a piteous yell.

It was, to use the term of the old-fashioned singlestick players, "first blood," and the sight thereof had a disastrous effect. For, recovering himself, the black turned round and caught his spear from where he had leaned it against the side of the shed, while the others yelled in chorus and began to menace the boys with their spears.

"Quick, Dean—guns!" cried Mark; and, then, "Bravo, Brown!" for the tall, thin, amateur foreloper snatched the spear from the first black, dashed before the menaced boys, and using the spear quarter-staff fashion, he made it whistle through the air as he struck to left and right, striking spear hafts, shoulders, and in two cases heads, as he drove their assailants back.

Just then Sir James and the doctor came into sight round one of the ruined walls, rifles over their shoulders, and catching sight of what was going on, came running forward to render aid.

"Hurrah!" cried Mark. "Give it to them, Dunn!"

Brown needed no urging; but the blacks were recovering from the surprise of the sudden attack and were coming on again.

"Fire, doctor!" shouted Dean excitedly.

"Yes, fire, father!" cried Mark. "Never mind us."

"No, no, my boy," panted his father, as he dashed up with presented rifle. "We must have no bloodshed."

"But we must drive them back," cried the doctor sternly, as he made the locks of his rifle click.

While these words were being spoken, the blacks, who had been startled by the appearance of the new-comers and drawn back for the moment, began to advance again, but only to receive another check caused by the clicking of first one and then the other rifle; but as nothing followed this they again, all moving as if by the same influence, took another step forward as if to get a little closer before hurling their spears.

At that moment the shrill piercing note of Mark's whistle rang out, as he blew with all his might a loud and ear-ringing call, the appointed signal that he knew would bring help from all by whom it was heard.

This checked the blacks again, and one or two made an uneasy movement as if to retreat; but this was stopped by a fierce yell from their leader, the black who had received Mark's blow, and all began again to advance with dancing movements which at another time would have excited mirth, but which Mark read rightly as being the savages' self-exciting gestures prior to a rush.

"Guns," whispered the boy to his cousin. "I'll stay."

Dean hesitated for a moment, and then dashed off to fetch the weapons from the rough rack where they hung ready for use, leaving Mark with his eyes running from black to black with the intent of seizing an opportunity to snatch a spear if he could see a chance.

"I'm afraid we must fire," said Sir James, in a low hoarse voice which was almost drowned by the fierce yellings of their enemy. "I'll fire first—over their heads. You follow."

As Sir James spoke he raised his rifle, and drew trigger, there was a sharp pat from the top of the wall above the heads of the blacks, and the report raised a peal of echoes from the surrounding ruins. So startling were the sounds that the blacks stopped short.

"Now!" cried Sir James, and the doctor fired in the direction of the highest pile, which sent back a roar, and the report seemed to have loosened one of the great needles of rock which had stood up for ages on the top of a loose ridge, and now came down, bringing with it quite an avalanche of stones, with such a thunderous crash that the blacks turned and fled, yelling with horror, while Mak and Pig, who were coming from where they had been sleeping in the sunshine, dropped upon their knees, the Pig following this up by creeping among the bushes that were left standing, and hiding his little head, ostrich-like, in the darkest part.

"Bravo! Hooray!" cried Mark, snatching a rifle from his cousin as Dean rushed up with a piece over each shoulder. "Give them another, father!"

"No, my boy; only a waste of powder. We will save this shot for their next visit, for I suppose we shall have another rush when they have got over their alarm."

"Here, you two, come out," cried Mark, trotting up to where Mak and Pig had taken refuge amongst the stones and bushes. "Get up, Mak; you have got nothing to mind. You, Dean, lay hold of Pig's leg." Mak rose from his knees and began to grin, but made a rather poor display of mirth as he tried to explain that he knew the two "baas" did not mean to shoot him, but he thought all the stones were coming down; and then he joined merrily in Mark's laughter as they both looked on at the encounter Dean was having with the pigmy, who was still half buried amongst the bushes. Dean had given a haul at one leg which he grasped just above the ankle, but had to drop it directly, for it saluted him with a tremendous series of kicks. He fared no better when he managed to grasp the other, and then as he was driven back, every advance was greeted with a display of kicks, which enraged him at first, till he awoke to the fact that he was helping to create a perfect exhibition. Then, and then only, he joined in the hearty laugh. This effected that which violence had failed to bring about: the little pair of black legs that were sticking out from beneath the bushes ceased to kick as soon as the attack was given up, were drawn a little farther in, and then by slow degrees Pig turned himself so that he could look out at his assailant, found that the attack came from a friend and that there was nothing to fear, and soon after he was laughing merrily with the rest.

"Run up to the top of the wall, Pig," cried Mark; and the little fellow scrambled up, and as soon as he reached the top called out to Mak that the blacks were running away, following up the announcement by capering in what was meant for a set of jeering, defiant gestures, ending by picking up loose fragments of stone and hurling them in the direction of the retreating party.

"That will do!" shouted Mark; and as the little fellow turned he signed to him to come down, while the two lads made for where their elders were discussing what had taken place.

"Well, boys, this is unfortunate," said Sir James, "for, as the doctor says, we wanted to keep on the best of terms with these people."

"I could not help it, father; I was obliged to do something. You don't think I ought to have let them do as they liked with us?"

"Most certainly not," said his father. "I think you both behaved very well; but it is unfortunate, all the same. One thing is evident—we have been too easy, and I am afraid they will take it for granted that we were afraid of them. The doctor would be most unwilling to make a move from here."

"Oh, yes," said that gentleman. "I looked forward to our making endless discoveries here and in the neighbourhood, and I must say again that it would be a thousand pities to give up."

"I agree with you," said Sir James, "and the boys don't want us to make a move."

"Oh, no!" they exclaimed, in a breath. "Well, it is very unlucky, and we shall be driven to give them a severe lesson."

"Well, you have, father," said Mark. "And it is very easy to drive them away, uncle."

"Yes," put in the doctor, "once or twice; but I am afraid we have come to the end of friendly feeling, and this cannot be resumed. There must be no more coming into the camp, Sir James."

"Certainly not. They must be taught to keep outside, without violence if we can manage it—if not, with."

During the next few days the blacks kept aloof, and it almost seemed as if they had been too much alarmed by the falling stones to come near.

"Yes," said the doctor, "they must have thought that we could start the old buildings to crumble about their ears, for they have been too much accustomed to the effects of rifles to be frightened by them so long as nobody falls. And I suppose if later on we are obliged to use small shot, those will only scare them for a time."

"Yes, it's a most unfortunate business, and I almost think that we had better go farther afield," said Sir James.

"And fare worse, father," said Mark.

"Perhaps," said his father, smiling. "But there, we will hold out for the present, and see what time brings forth."

"Perhaps it will be all for the best," said Mark. "If they had not been checked there's no knowing what they might have taken next."



CHAPTER FORTY.

IN THE NIGHT WATCH.

"It's of no use; I can't go to sleep," said Mark to himself, as he lay gazing out through the end of the waggon at the black darkness of the night.

It seemed hotter than ever, and he turned and turned again and again, with a strange, fidgety sensation that made him feel irritable to a degree, completely driving sleep away.

"What's the matter with me?" he said to himself. "Supper, I suppose. That's what the doctor would say. But one must eat; and I felt so horribly hungry."

He turned over again and lay watching a gloriously bright planet—Venus or Jupiter, he did not know which; but it was gradually sinking in the west, and even that made him more wakeful.

"Wish I could get some water," he muttered; "but I should only be disturbing poor Dean if I moved. There," he half ejaculated, "my brain must have gone to sleep, though my body wouldn't. How absurd, when I knew all the time that Dean had the watch! Hope he won't go to sleep and let the blacks come and surprise us because he doesn't give the alarm. How badly things do happen! He could go to sleep, of course, and I can't. Why shouldn't we change places? Oh dear, how hot it is! I should like to go down to the riverside and have a swim. Ugh!" he ejaculated. "And some croc hunting for food would get hold of me by the leg and pull me down. Horrid idea! The blacks," he went on, as he dismissed the thought of the reptile—"oh, the blacks are peaceable enough now. They only wanted showing that we wouldn't stand any of their nonsense. They are just like children."

The boy turned upon his rough couch so as to avoid the bright beams of the setting planet, and five minutes later he turned back again, feeling that he must watch it as it went down, and he felt more wakeful than ever.

"It's of no use," he said to himself, at last, "I—can't—go—to sleep, and it's only waste of time."

Creeping cautiously out, he let himself drop to the earth, and then after standing listening for a few minutes to the breathing of the cattle and watching the dancing flames of the fire that was regularly kept up, he cautiously approached the ponies, speaking softly to them so that they might not be scared by the approach of a dark figure to the spot where they were tethered.

First one and then another whinnied softly and stretched out its muzzle to receive his caress.

"I do like horses," he said to himself. "When once they know you they are as friendly as dogs. But you ought to have heard me, Master Dean. I think if I had had the watch I should have known if anyone had crept out of the waggon and come and spoken to the horses. I'll tell him so."

The boy went cautiously on past the first waggon, then by the kraal, looking eagerly before him the while but making out nothing.

"Taking a bit of a round, I suppose. The other side of the fire, perhaps," he said to himself.

Mark went slowly and silently on, pausing once to note that the bright planet, which seemed to grow larger and larger, was just dipping down behind the highest kopje near, and then he listened to a distant barking sound which he knew must proceed from a baboon prowling about, possibly on the watch for the approach of one of its greatest enemies—a leopard.

"Everything seems to have its enemy," thought the boy, "and the blacks are ours; but I don't think they will come near us any—"

Mark stopped short, a feeling of rage and bitterness running through him, for as he was walking slowly on, cautiously so as not to startle his cousin, he felt ready to choke with indignant rage.

"Oh, I wouldn't have thought he could have been so untrustworthy," he said to himself, for there, just before him, seated upon one of the many loose stones, his chin upon his breast, was his cousin, sleeping profoundly.

At this Mark's first idea was to awaken the overcome boy by snatching his rifle from him and ordering him to go off to bed.

"And I will too," he said, half aloud, "and shame him in his disgrace."

He was in the act of stooping over to seize the rifle, but there was no rifle to seize.

"He has stood it up somewhere," thought the boy. "Oh, who could have believed it! And at a time like this when we might be surprised and speared before the alarm could have spread. I'll go and tell the—no, I won't. It shall be our secret; but I'll say words to him that shall make him too much ashamed ever to take the watch again. Oh, where has he stood that rifle?"

Mark was trying to penetrate the darkness as he stepped cautiously along, looking here and there for the missing weapon, when he felt as if a hand had been pressed upon his throat to check his breathing, for there, dimly-seen, standing pressed close up to the rock which ascended behind their camp, was the figure of an armed black, motionless as a statue, and with his spear, which looked somehow distorted, resting against his arm.

For a few moments the boy could not breathe, but his heart beat with a heavy throb against his breast, while his lips parted to utter a cry that should alarm the camp. But no sound escaped from him: the silence was broken by a deeply whispered, "Baas!"

"Ah-h-h-h-h! You, Mak!" sighed Mark; and the words, "How you startled me!" were ready for utterance, but they were not spoken.

"Him—him—sleep," whispered the black. "Mak watch.—Got gun."

As he spoke he raised Dean's rifle, which was resting upon the ground in company with the black's spear, and Mark caught at it eagerly.

"Baas watch too," said the black. "Pig gone see."

Mark raised the hand at liberty and patted their black friend upon the shoulder, asking himself the while what the man meant about the pigmy. But he was too much occupied with the thoughts that he was arranging in his mind with respect to his cousin and the black's presence.

"Why, he must have come and found him asleep, and taken the rifle to keep watch for him. No, I won't wake him. We will stop here together till he comes to himself; and how it will bring his disgrace home to him!—Here, what's that?" he whispered, as he turned to catch Mak by the arm.

But as he did so he felt that the faint sound he heard could be nothing alarming, for the black stood silent and unmoved.

Mark realised directly, though, that he was listening with head bent forward, and he began to breathe hard as with a faint rustling sound his little black companion sprang to his side and whispered something.

In an instant Mak clutched Mark by the shoulder and tapped the barrel of his piece.

"Shoot, shoot!" he whispered loudly, and as the boy grasped his meaning he became aware of hurrying footsteps one of the bullocks uttered a low, excited bellow, its sleeping fellows sprang to their feet, and the boy drew trigger, the report raising the echoes that were lurking amongst the black ruins waiting to be aroused. Then he fired again, past his black companions, in the direction of the approaching steps.

The bellow uttered by the ox had made Dean spring to his feet, to feel for his rifle.

"This way! Come!" cried Mark, making a dash for the waggon, followed by the two blacks, all running for where the men from both waggons were snatching their arms and preparing to respond to their leader's commands.

What followed was to the boys one horrible mental chaos. There were the loud yells of a strong body of savages uttering their fierce war cries, to stagger and alarm the occupants of the camp; the reports of rifles, the rush of feet, the shadowy figures of the fierce enemies, the being crushed together in a contending crowd, the eager cries of familiar voices, above all that of the doctor, giving orders which in the confusion could not be obeyed. There were harsh pantings too, blows, and the rattling made by spears against the barrels of rifles. More than once there was a raucous cry, and Mark in the wild excitement felt a strange pain through one arm, before he was trampled beneath the feet of those who were swaying to and fro fighting desperately.

The last thing that seemed clear to Mark was that everything was coming to an end and he was nearly unconscious as someone cried piteously, "Oh, father! Father!"

And then all was dark.



CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

"A BIT OFF HIS HEAD."

But it was not all over. When sense and feeling began to resume their seats, Mark was lying in the forest shade, dimly conscious that the sun's rays were striking horizontally through the dark, misty shadows of some place that he had never seen before.

A dull, heavy pain seemed to be pressing his head into the earth, and a sickening feeling of confusion troubled him which seemed to take the shape of one of the glorious golden rays of the sun darting and piercing him through the shoulder with the agonising pangs that accompanied fire.

Then in his throbbing head there was a question that kept on repeating itself—that cry he had last heard as of someone calling piteously, something about his father, and who could it be?

This went on and on for what seemed to be an endless time, and he could make out nothing else, till someone spoke in a deep, gruff voice, and said, "Yes, my lad, it is a very bad job, and I say, thank my stars I hadn't the watch."

"Ay, messmate, and I say the same. The cooking was more in my way."

"Buck—Dan Mann," thought Mark, for he recognised the voices; but he could not make out why it was he was lying there, nor whose father it was somebody had been calling to.

He tried to think, but the more he tried to make out what it all meant the greater grew the confusion, and at last he felt too weary to try, or the power to continue the effort failed, for he lay quite still in a stupor.

When his senses began to return again the sun had attacked—or so it seemed—his other side. There was a peculiar gnawing in his shoulder, and now and then a stinging pain as from a red hot ray, and while he was trying to puzzle it out, a hand was gently laid upon his forehead, where his head was most charged with pain, and he made a feeble effort to turn where he lay upon his back.

"Who's that?" he said.

"Oh, Mark! Mark!" came in a familiar voice; and that voice seemed to give back the power to think.

"You, Dean! What does it all mean?"

"Oh, don't you know?"

Mark was silent, for like a flash came the recollection of what had passed—his going to seek his cousin, his sitting asleep, and the big Illaka standing close by in possession of the watcher's rifle, doing the duty that had been neglected.

"I was beginning to be afraid that I should never hear you speak again, and you mustn't speak much, I'm sure, while you are so dreadfully weak. But I must talk to you a little. You do feel a little better now?"

"Better? No."

"Oh, Mark, old fellow, don't say that!"

"I'm wounded, am I not?"

"Oh, yes, dreadfully; and I have been in despair. I couldn't have borne it, but Buck kept giving me hope. There were days, though, and nights, when you hardly seemed to breathe."

"Days and nights!" whispered Mark. "What do you mean? Wasn't it yesterday? Or was it to-day, just before dawn?"

"Oh, Mark! Mark! It was weeks ago!"

Mark was silent for a few minutes, as he lay thinking.

"Weeks!" he said, at last, and he lay perfectly silent. "Where are we now?"

"Right away in the wilds somewhere, where our friends brought us after they carried us off that night. I have hardly thought of that—only of you."

"Our friends!" said Mark, at last. "Who are our friends?"

"Buck and Dan and the two blacks."

"Buck and Dan!" almost whispered Mark. "I heard them talking, and thought it was a little while ago."

Strangely wild thoughts were running now through Dean's brain. His cousin had been so long in that dreadful stupor, insensible even to the touch of those who had dressed his wounds and cooled his burning brain by applications to the spot where a blow from a club had struck him down. Was this the poor fellow's senses returning for a short time, before—?

"I can't bear it," whispered Dean to himself. "Speak to me again just this once, Mark," he said aloud, "and then I want you to sleep. Both Buck and Dan say that sleep is the best thing for you now. I want you to tell me that you will get better."

Mark made no answer. He was thinking. It was coming back more and more.

"Oh, I know you are badly hurt," said Dean, at last. "I know how awful it all is, but Mark—Mark, old chap, don't—don't say anything to me; only tell me you are going to be better!"

"I can't speak. I can't think. Don't talk to me. Go away."

Dean uttered a groan of misery, and rising slowly he left his cousin to begin fighting once more against the confusion that oppressed his brain.

And now as the poor fellow lay seeming to go backward into what was like so much mental darkness, he heard the gruff voices of the two men talking, and then his cousin's words sounding as if in appeal, while soon after Mark opened his eyes to find that somebody was leaning over him. But the sun had set, and it was growing too dark now for him to make out who it was.

Then he knew.

"Asleep, Mr Mark, sir?"

"No, Dan. What does it all mean? Is it fever?—No, no, don't speak. I remember now. Hasn't there been a big fight?"

"Yes, sir; horrid."

"Did you get hurt?"

"A bit pricked, sir."

"With a spear?" said Mark sharply.

"Yes, sir. One of the black thieves made a job at me."

"But you are not hurt much?"

"Quite enough, sir. But a hurt soon heals up. I want to know about you, sir."

"Yes, yes; but tell me—what about Buck Denham?"

"Got enough, sir, to make him horrid wild. But he don't mind much."

"Ah!" said Mark quietly, as he fought hard with the difficulty of thinking. "Has the doctor seen him?"

"No, sir," said the man hesitatingly.

"But he ought to see him," continued Mark, "and you too. He knows so much about that sort of thing. Why doesn't he come and see me? There! There's that pain back again, as if I was burnt."

"Yes, sir; it is nasty, of course. I have done all I knowed to it."

"Thank you, Dan. What is it?"

"Spear, sir. But it's quite clean; I saw to that. It's your head's the worst."

"Yes," sighed Mark. "It's my head's the worst. Well, now go and tell the doctor to come."

Dan was silent.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, sir," said the man, "but hadn't you better try and go to sleep?"

"I have been trying for hours, Dan—ever since I lay down; and then as I couldn't I got out of the waggon and came to have a chat with you; and then—it wasn't you, because it was—because it was—is that you, Dan?"

"Yes, my dear lad; it's me. What is it you want?"

"I don't know, Dan, only I feel as if I couldn't think and talk properly. Who's that?"

"Buck Denham, my lad. How goes it?" said the big fellow.

"I don't know, Buck, only that—oh, Dan said that you got hurt with a spear."

"Oh, yes, my lad; a bit of a dig—made me so wild I brought the butt of my rifle down on that nigger's head, and it was too dark to see, but I felt him roll over, and I trod on him."

"Look here—look here, Buck; I'm hurt."

"Yes, my lad; but just you lie quiet and try to sleep it off."

"Now you are talking the same. I want the doctor to come and see to Dan; and you had better let him see to you too. I say, Buck, whose father was it somebody was asking for?"

"Whose father, my lad?"

"Yes. I was lying in the dark, and I heard somebody call out for him."

"Here, I say, Dan, lad, what's to be done?" said the big driver, in a soft, deep growl. "Don't he know?"

"No," said Dan quietly. "A bit off his head still."

"What's that you are saying?" said Mark sharply. "What is it I don't know? Well—why don't you speak?"

"Don't—don't talk so much, my lad," said Buck softly. "You are a bit off your head from that club."

"Yes—yes—oh, I understand; you are trying to make me not think about it. Ah, I can think better now. Where's my father?"

Neither of the men replied.

"Yes, I do understand more now. I know, Buck, you are keeping something from me. Don't say my father's hurt!"

The boy waited for the answer that did not come.

"Then he is!" he cried excitedly. "And Dr Robertson?"

Still there was no reply.

"Ah, you won't tell me! Call my cousin—no," added the boy sharply, "don't—pray don't. Speak to me yourselves; I can bear anything now."

"You had better tell him, Dan, lad. He must know."

"Can't, messmate," came in a hoarse whisper. "You are a bigger chap than me; you tell him, for you are about right: he ought to know."

"Yes, I ought to know, Buck," said the boy softly, and he winced with agony as he tried to raise his left hand, but let it fall directly and caught at the big fellow's wrist with his right. "Now tell me, or tell me if I am right, for I can think now—that cloud has gone. The blacks attacked us last night?"

"Ay, my lad. They stole a march on us."

"And my father?"

"I dunno, my lad," said Buck hoarsely.

"The doctor, then?"

"Nay, Mr Mark, sir; it was all so dark, and such rough work, that I heard him shouting to us to come on, and that was all."

"Well, is Dunn Brown here?"

"Nay, my lad. He turned tail and left us in the lurch."

"Oh!" groaned Mark. "But Peter and Bob Bacon?"

"They fought like men, sir, and I hope we all did; but they were too much for us, and if it hadn't been for our two black fellows I don't believe Dan and me would have got you two young gents out of it."

"Ah, then," cried Mark, "you got us away?"

"That's right, sir; but it was close work, and it was big Mak kept the brutes off while Dan carried you, and I got Mr Dean up on my back while the little Pig showed us the way through the darkness."

"Then—then—" cried Mark passionately. "You—two—two strong men came away and left my father and the doctor in the hands of those wretches! Oh, cowards! Cowards! Cowards! How could you! How could you! How—"

The boy fainted.



CHAPTER FORTY TWO.

A VAIN APPEAL.

It was one morning when Mark lay fairly collected and able to talk, and the first objects his eyes lit upon were the two blacks seated together busy crushing up some succulent leaves, which they worked between a couple of stones till they had formed them into a thick green paste. This done, the little fellow brought other leaves, covered one with the green paste, and then as Mark watched him he placed this woodland-plaster on the fleshy part of his companion's leg and secured it in its place with some long, grassy, fibrous growth which Mak had chewed and twisted into a kind of string.

This done, the black lay upon one side with his teeth at work preparing some more rough bandage, while the pigmy formed another plaster, which was in turn secured to the black's left arm.

As Mark lay there feeling too helpless and weary to move, he watched in turn the surgical applications of the pigmy, as he attended to bad cuts that had been suffered by Buck Denham and Dan.

Mark did not know it then, during those next few days, but he realised afterwards that it was due to sheer weakness that with the knowledge of the terrible defeat, and that his father and friends were either killed or taken prisoners, he could lie there so calmly watching what was going on.

There was much to see in the coming and going of the two blacks, who brought the food and the water they drank, while Buck Denham and Dan, badly as they were hurt, never wearied in their attentions. His cousin too was constantly at his side, ready to attend to every wish. At other times he sat gazing at him with an imploring expression of countenance as if begging not to be reproached for a catastrophe that he laid upon his own shoulders.

"Who'd have thought it, Buck?" said Mark, one day, as he lay helpless, listening to the trickling water of the spring in the thick patch of forest that had been made their camp.

"Thought what, sir?" said the big driver, as he emptied the last scraps of tobacco from his pouch into his homemade corn-straw pipe.

"That that little black would be so grateful for what the doctor did."

"Oh, yes, sir; he's a reg'lar little trump—the Jack, me and Dan call him, and old Black Mak the King. Those two chaps arn't as fond of you as Christians would be, but they think a deal more of you than dogs would, and it seems to me they are a kind of people as never forgets, especially the little 'un. Anybody that has ill-used them they'd wait if it was for years till they got their chance to let them have it again, and as Dan says, they never seem as if they could do enough for one who has done them a good turn. Why, old Dan and me got so chopped about that night that we could only just crawl about after we had cooled down. Luckily in the 'citement we didn't feel so bad, but after a day or two we could hardly move, and as to doing a bit of hunting or shooting, we were good for nothing. Why, we might have got thinking that we should starve out here in the woods, but here have we been living like fighting cocks."

"Oh, don't talk about eating!" said Mark peevishly. "I don't see why not, Mr Mark, sir. Dan says a bit of eating helps to put life into you."

"Ah!" said Mark, with a low deep sigh. He made an effort to turn round on the bed of leaves, that the blacks had made for him, but it was beyond his strength, and Dean, giving him a wistful look, tenderly placed him in the position he wished, Mark grasping his hand the while, and strengthening his grasp as Dean tried to draw his own hand away.

The next minute to his surprise Dean found that his cousin had sunk into a deep sleep, and many hours passed before the boy awoke, still holding his cousin's hand.

That next morning was the turning point, for Mark answered a wistful look from his cousin with the words, "I couldn't help it, Dean—no, no, no, Dean! Dean! Dean!—I say, I couldn't help it after what had happened. There, that's all dead and buried."

Dean hesitated, but he saw his cousin's eyes flash, and he held out his hands and drew him into a sitting position.

"Here, Dan!" cried Mark; and the little sailor sprang to him from where he was busy cooking.

"Hullo, Mr Mark, sir!" he cried. "You are a-getting on!"

Those words, uttered loudly, brought up Buck Denham from where he had been bathing one of the cuts he had received.

"Oh, I say, Mr Mark," he said, "you mustn't do that! You arn't strong enough."

"I want to get up and walk; help me," was the reply, or rather command; and the big fellow obeyed at once, taking one side, Dean the other, and between them the poor lad took a few steps; and then his head sank sideways while he submitted to being laid back on his leafy couch, breathing hard and closing his eyes.

The next day he was as insistent as before.

"I want to walk. I must grow strong," he said, sternly now. "Help me."

Another day passed, and Dean, who had left his cousin asleep while he went out to help the men to fetch water, returned to camp to look about with startled eyes, for Mark's couch was vacant, and Dean's first thought was that, fancying he had gained enough strength, he had started off alone.

Reproaching himself with what he looked upon as neglect of his cousin, he hurried off amongst the trees, searching in the direction that he thought it probable Mark would have taken.

"I'm sure he can't have gone far," he said to himself; and so it proved, for before long he caught sight of him.

Mark, who did not hear him come up, was kneeling by a great trunk, his clasped hands resting upon the buttress, his brow bent, and his lips moving rapidly.

Dean, with the nerves of his face twitching, crept silently up to where he could touch his cousin, and then resting his own hands upon those of Mark, he too bent down, and the next minute his lips were also moving.

At last Mark spoke.

"Oh, Dean," he said, "a few minutes ago I thought that all was over. But oh, what a coward I have been, when perhaps all the time the poor dad, a prisoner, is comforting himself with the hope that we shall go and rescue him!"

"Don't—don't, old chap!" cried Dean. "Call me a coward, if you like; I won't mind. But it's like sticking one of the Illaka's spears into me when you, you brave old chap, keep on reproaching yourself; and every word you say is nothing but a lie."

"Brave old chap!" cried Mark mockingly, and he burst into a strange laugh which made his cousin shiver.

"Don't!" cried Dean passionately. "What does a fellow want? To be brave? Doesn't he want to be well and strong?"

"Oh, I suppose so."

"And there have you been fainting dead away over and over again. Who could be brave when he is like that?"

"There, don't talk. We are wasting time."

"What are you going to do?"

"You ask me that, with your uncle waiting to be saved! Come on."

"Come on where?"

"I must—I must get back to the ruins."

The boy took hold tightly of the sharp-edged buttress-like root upon which his hands had rested, and exerting the little strength that he had gained, he drew himself up erect, and then with everything swimming round, he reeled away from his support and would have fallen heavily but for the way in which Dean snatched at him, and yet, in spite of a quick effort on the boy's part, the pair fell heavily down amongst the bushes.

"It's of no use, Mark; you are too weak and helpless. We must go on camping here for the present."

"You are quite right," said Mark sadly, "I am as weak as a child; but we have to go."

"But you can't," cried Dean angrily.

"I must, and I will," cried Mark, with fierce determination. "And promise me this—"

"Promise you what?" said Dean, for his cousin ceased speaking.

"This," he cried again, with passionate energy. "The others will talk about giving up now and saving ourselves, but whatever I say you must support me. Promise me you will."

"That I will."

"Oh, here you are then, gentlemen," cried Dan forcing his way in to where the two lads were standing. "Ahoy! Buck! Heave ahead! Here they are! Why, we have been hunting for you everywhere, gents. You must be better, Mr Mark."

"Ay, that's so," cried Buck, coming up; "but I don't believe we should have found you if it hadn't been for these 'ere two. I believe little Pig here sniffed you out all the way. Aren't you tired?"

Mark shook his head, and Buck gave him a look as much as to say "I don't believe you."

"Well, we are a good way from camp, my lad. If you will take my advice, Mr Mark, you will lie down and have a snooze while we light a fire and get ready something to eat."

"No, don't do that," said Mark angrily. "We must go on."

"Go on, sir? Where?"

"Where? Back to the ruins."

"You can't do it, sir. It's just about madness. You are talking wild. What do you say, Dan? Don't leave it all to me."

"Same as you do, messmate."

"There, Mr Mark; and I put it to you, Mr Dean; isn't it about playing the lunatic for him to think of going to the help of Sir James, and the captain, with him like this?"

"Don't ask me, Buck," cried Dean excitedly. "My cousin is determined to go, and I have promised to help him."

"Of course you would, sir. But Mr Mark, sir, just think!"

"I have thought, Buck. It is my duty, and I appeal to you and Dan to come with me. Those faithful blacks will help, if they see you are with us, and go I must."

"Nay, sir. That's very well for you to talk, and I suppose folks would say it is very grand to go and throw away your life trying to save your father. If they gets to know of it at home they will say you are a hero, and write about you being a fine example. All very fine for you, because you are a gentleman; but I'm only an or'nary sort of fellow, and I don't want people to write about me."

"That will do," cried Mark angrily. "Go with them, Dean, old fellow." Dean shook his head.

"I don't want to be a hero," continued Mark. "I want to save my father, and if I can't save him I'm going to die too. There, good-bye. I have talked about people being cowards, but it is only because I am half wild with misery. You have all done your best, and I know what I want you all to do is impossible. Shake hands and say good-bye." Mark shook hands with the men in turn. "Now you," he said, and he held out his hand to the blacks, who advanced smiling as if they did not understand, but took it that it was something all right, and then shrank back.

Mark hesitated for a moment, and there was something piteous in his look as he turned to the big driver again.

"I don't like to go like this," he said, "but go I will. I have always looked on you as a brave man, Denham, so I will make this last appeal to you. Will you come with me and help me to save my father and the doctor?"

"No, sir, I won't," said the man gruffly. "Nor your own friends and companions?"

"No, sir."

Mark sighed.

"Then I appeal to you, Dan. You will not let us two go alone?"

"Can't be done, sir," said the little sailor, shaking his head.

"Do you mean this, Dan?"

"Yes, sir," replied Dan, after glancing at his big companion.

"Very well," said Mark quietly. "I have no right to ask it. Come along, Dean; we will go alone."

Making an effort over his weakness, he strode off as nearly as he could guess in the direction of the ruins, walking fairly steadily now, neither of the pair attempting to look back, and the forest was so silent that the soft rustling of the two lads amongst the leaves sounded loud and strange.

They were walking in Indian file, for Mark had told his cousin to take the lead, and immersed in their own thoughts upon the desperate nature of the attempt they were about to make, they went on and on, in and out amongst the trees that grew more open as they progressed for quite an hour, when coming upon a patch of mossy stones Mark uttered the word, "Rest," and setting the example he sank down upon one of the stones, to lean his head upon his hand.

"Do you feel weak?" asked Dean.

Mark shook his head.

"No," he said; "I am getting stronger. We will go on again in a few minutes, and who knows what may happen? I feel that we shall save them yet. Ah!" he cried.

For all at once the little figure of the pigmy stood before them, holding his spear across his breast as if to bar their way.

"Look at that, Dean," cried Mark. "Faithful and true to us as ever, even when those three men have forsaken us."

"They have not," said Dean. "Look."

Startled by his cousin's tones, Mark turned from the little black, to realise the fact that the three men whom they had left must have taken a circuitous course under the pigmy's guidance, cut them off by the scattered stones where they were resting, and were now coming straight towards them.

"Then you have repented, Buck?" cried Mark eagerly.

"No, sir."

"Then why are you here?" said the boy, starting to his feet, and catching at his cousin's arm, for his weakness seemed to be returning.

"Because we think, Dan and I, that we have let you go on in your own way long enough. It won't do, Mr Mark, and you must come back with us; eh, Dan?"

"That's right, Mr Mark, sir. I never started mutiny before, but I am in for it now. We have ris' against our officers, and you are both prisoners."

"Prisoners!" cried Mark wildly. "You will not dare—"

"Yes, my lad."

"Here, Mak!" cried Mark fiercely. "And you too," he continued, turning upon the pigmy; "you will stand by us, after all?"

"There, sir," said Buck; "even they won't do what you ask. Can't you see now, my lad, how mad it is?" And the man pointed to where the two blacks had darted away amongst the trees. "There, there must be no nonsense now. We have got to save your lives. You are our prisoners, so give up like men.—Ah, I never thought of that!"

For at that moment there was a repetition of the fierce yelling made familiar to them by the night attack, and they were surrounded by some fifty of the Illakas, who came rushing through the trees, flourishing their spears and looking formidable enough to make the bravest heart beat faster.



CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

PRISONERS.

It was the day following their being made prisoners—the party of four, Mak and the pigmy having seemed to melt away amongst the trees at the first onset of the Illakas and not having been seen since.

The two boys were utterly disheartened, while their companions, tightly bound, with the canes which were twisted and knotted about their arms and wrists and thoroughly secured behind their backs, looked despondent, Dan in particular, who kept fixing his eyes upon Mark and then turning to shake his head at his companion.

For all had had a long and wearisome tramp, urged on by their captors, who at the slightest suggestion of hanging back made threatening gestures with the points of their spears. To the wonder of his party, this last misfortune had seemed to act like a stimulus to Mark, and though slowly, he had kept on as well as he could and had only broken down twice; but now this was the third time, and after what Dan muttered to Buck was "a crackling jabbering," their captors made preparations for lighting a fire, and some of them went off as if in search of food, while the prisoners gladly sank down to rest.

"Say, messmate, drop a word or two to the poor chap."

"All right," growled Buck, and he turned to where Mark lay alone with his eyes closed. "Come, hold up, Mr Mark, sir. Never say die. They don't mean to kill us, or they'd have done it before. What do you say, Dan?"

"Same as you do, messmate. But what do you say to waiting until night and then as soon as they are all asleep make an escape of it?"

"Can't be done, cookie, and Mr Mark knows as well as as I do that he'd break down before we had gone a couple of score yards. Wish I'd got my waggon here, and the span of oxen. That would just suit you now, sir."

"Don't talk to me, Buck; don't talk to me."

"Must, sir. I want to cheer you up a bit. Don't be rough upon us two. We never meant to let you go on by yourselves, and we set the little Pig after you directly to keep his eye on you, ready for us to come up soon as you gave in and couldn't walk any farther. And it's my belief that that little chap has been creeping about among the leaves ever since we started again."

Mark looked at him listlessly, and then half closed his eyes again, utterly exhausted.

"Where do you think they are going to take us, Buck?" asked Dean.

"Oh, we two have been turning that over, sir, and we both think the same thing. The black brutes have been on the hunt after us ever since we got away, and now that they have caught us they are taking us back to our old camp."

"What makes you think that?" said Dean.

"Those two sugar-loaf kopjes that lie right out yonder," said Buck, giving his head a wag to indicate the clumps of rock that he alluded to.

"But those look like the kopjes that we could see from the big wall beyond the waggons."

"That's right, sir," said Buck. "They were a good way off, because the air is so clear here. But that's the way we are going, and sooner or later we shall be there."

"What is it? Feel faint?" said Dean, for his cousin shuddered.

"No," was the half whispered reply. "I can't bear to think of it. It means so much, Dean."

"Then don't think," said Dean. "What's the good. What's gone by can't be altered now."

"You don't understand me," said Mark passionately. "The past is bad enough. It is what we have to face when we get there."

"You mean—" began Dean sadly, and then he stopped.

Mark was gazing at him wildly, and Dean seemed to read now fully what his cousin meant.

"Oh, don't think that," he said at last, in a choking voice. "These blacks are savage enough, but as Buck said, if they meant to kill us they would have speared us before now."

"Yes," said Mark, "and I daresay he's right; but I was thinking of what happened during that horrible fight in the darkness."

"Ah-h-h!" sighed Dean softly; and no more was said.

Later on the blacks brought their prisoners half cooked food from their fire, which was scarcely touched, and water from the spring by which they were camped for the night; and of this they drank with avidity.

Then came the soft darkness, with the light of the great stars seeming to the boys to gaze pityingly down upon them; and then as the eager chattering of their captors ceased, the great silence of the forest fell upon them, bringing with it the sweet reward of the utterly wearied out.

Twice over in the night Mark, however, awoke with a start, the first time to listen to the deep barking roar of a lion which approached the prisoner, but without bringing any sense of dread.

It was a familiar sound to him, that was all; and as at intervals it came nearer and nearer and the thought occurred to the boy that the savage beast might be waiting to make a spring, it did not trouble him in the least. The position was curious, that was all; and the last time he heard the beast's roar Mark found himself wondering what it would feel like to be suddenly snatched away, and he was still wondering, when all grew utterly still and lonely and then he started, knowing he had been asleep, but quite convinced that something had crawled close up to him and had lightly drawn its paw across his breast.

"The lion!" he thought, and then he remembered having read about those who had been seized by one of these great beasts having felt mentally stunned and so helpless and free from fear and pain that they had made no attempt to escape, and thinking that this was exactly his case, he lay trying to pierce the darkness so as to make out the shape of the fierce beast whose jaws might at any moment close upon his arm.

Just then one of the blacks sprang up, to utter a yawn and shake himself, while from close behind Mark's head something leaped away, making bound after bound.

Silence again as Mark lay listening to the one of their captors who had sprung up, and who now uttered a long-drawn yawn and lay down again.

It must have been quite half an hour after that Mark, though he had heard nothing approach, felt the touch of his late visitor's paw laid heavily upon his breast, and as if fascinated the boy lay without moving, until the paw—no, it was a hand—a small hand—was laid across his mouth, and directly after a pair of lips, quite warm, rested upon his right ear, and the word "Baas" was breathed therein.

"The pigmy!" thought Mark, and there was the sensation as of a great sob of joy struggling from his throat.

That was all; but the incident meant so much. There was a friend who was free, watching over the blacks' prisoners, and the next minute a feeling of confidence pervaded the boy's breast, for he was now sure that the inseparable Mak would be near at hand.



CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.

A SURPRISE.

Morning again, after a long sleep, and the rest and the feeling of confidence that had come like an inspiration enabled Mark to partake of some of the rough food brought to them by the blacks; and when in obedience to the latter Mark and his companions arose, he was better able to resume the march, which lasted till towards evening, while about noon they passed between the two kopjes, where they were allowed an hour's rest, and as the afternoon grew older, familiar objects made the boys' hearts bound and sink again with despair. For they were convinced now that before night they would reach the ruins, where the blacks who had made the first attack would be doubtless awaiting the portion of their tribe who had been so successful in their raid after the escaped party.

There was no doubt about it now, and as the boys walked together their countenances showed the emotions that swelled their breasts.

At one time their hearts seemed to sink lower with despair, and when this was at its worst, hope would come again as they marked portions of the ruins which they had visited; clumps of trees that had afforded them shade; plains that had never failed to furnish them with bucks when out with the rifle.

Later on they caught again and again rays that darted, reflected from the river which had supplied their fish. Several times too they sprang coveys of the partridge-like birds that had been so welcome to their table; and at such times as this, with the full intent of cheering up the drooping spirits of Mark, little Dan had drawn his attention to a drove of antelopes or a flock of birds, with some merry suggestion connected with his old fire place—his kitchen, he termed it—at the ruins.

Mark smiled feebly, and Dan shrank away to the side of Buck.

"I didn't do much good, messmate," he said, "but it's wonderful how he's kept up. It's my belief, and I says it 'cause I know, and no one better, what it was to be as weak as a cat and as sick as a dog after my fever—it's these 'ere plains as does it. Soon as I had started up country I began to grow. One day I was like a little kid—just a baby, you know. Next day I was a toddler just beginning to walk. Next day I was a little boy as could run; and so I went on breathing and growing till—you know what I was like, feeling as if I was alive again, and I was a man ready and willing for aught."

Buck grunted and frowned at the ruins they were approaching.

"What's the matter, messmate? Cheer up, can't you!"

"Can't, Dan. I'm a-thinking of my two span of bullocks."

"Oh, they'll be all right."

"Not they, Dan. I know what these blacks are. They will have sat down for one of their great big gorges. But if they have eaten six-and-forty of my bullocks I'll never forgive them—there!"

"Well, we shall soon see, messmate."

"I'm afraid, my lad, as we shan't see."

"Well, but I didn't finish," said Dan. "I was talking about Mr Mark. The way in which he has pulled up has been just like me, and he'd be just wonderful only he's so low-sperrited about his governor—and no wonder. Young Mr Dean too's just as bad, and he arn't got the pluck left in him to do his cousin no good. Heave to alongside of him and say a word or two."

"All right; but who's to heave to with his arms and legs all tied together behind him like a market calf?"

"Well, it arn't worse for you, messmate, than it is for me. I don't like it a bit, and it's all very well to call a fellow's arms his feelers, but there arn't a bit of feel left in mine."

"No," said Buck, "and I don't feel as if I'd got any. Just look and see."

"Oh, they are all right, messmate. I did think of setting to and gnawing through them canes last night; but they would only have tied them up again, and tighter too."

Buck nodded, giving his companion in misfortune a friendly look, and as he was about to approach closer to Mark, he stopped to whisper, "I don't know what to say, mate, for whenever I look at the poor plucky chap and think about all he's gone through, I feel as if I should like to sit down and howl. But there, that will do. I have thought on it now."

The next minute, after making a quiet approach so as not to draw the attention of the blacks who were driving them, as he said, "like a span o' oxen," Buck was alongside of the two boys.

"Say, Mr Mark," he said, "don't that there big kopje put you in mind of going up and finding that there cave?"

Mark started, for his thoughts had a far different trend, and he shook his head.

"I've been a-thinking of it, sir, ever since it come into sight. 'Member finding that there walking mummy as Dan said was such an old 'un?"

Mark shook his head.

"Oh, but you do, Mr Dean. I wish we had had time, all of us, to have got up there before the niggers came that night. We could have kept them back for a twelvemonth if we had only knowed."

Poor Buck had joined the boys with the best intentions, but seeing the look of agony Dean directed at him he slackened his pace and let the pair go on without another word.

"Why, what's the good of that?" said Dan, as the two men were alongside again. "You didn't half talk to 'em."

"Didn't half talk to 'em, my lad? I talked a deal too much. Why, I no sooner opened my mouth than, as they said of the chap, I put my foot in it. Well, what's it going to be?" continued the big fellow sadly—"regular heartbreaking work for those two poor young chaps? I can't talk much about it, but I have thought a deal."