A DARING MARAUDER. 151 



orses, and oxen, capped by the deep voice of 

 umbo (the baboon), awoke me. 



Springing from my cartell, gun in hand, as 

 pidly as possible, I gained the front of my wag- 

 on, its elevated position affording an excellent 

 lace of observation. 



I instantly saw William passing from one fire to 

 e other, but in a moment he disappeared as if shut 

 ut of sight by the intervention of a dark cloud. 

 This had scarcely happened, when I distinctly 

 viewed a lion jump the fence that surrounded the 

 camp, with a large object in his mouth. Naturally, 

 the first thought that entered my mind was that my 

 man was the victim. To fire I had no time ; if I 

 had, should I have been justified, with such un- 

 certain light ? I suffered most acute anguish for 

 a few moments, but fortunately no longer, for 

 William joined me, abusing the marauder in the 

 choicest terms he could select from the English, 

 utch, and Zulu languages. I congratulated him 

 n his escape, and told him my fears ; but even this 

 did not seem to pacify him. However, the contre- 

 temps was soon explained : the lion had seized a 

 goat, and in its hurry to escape with its prey had 

 run full tilt against my henchman, and sent him 

 spinning in one direction while his gun took flight 

 in another. He had neither bruises nor broken 

 bones ; but his dignity, pride, and self-esteem had 

 been grievously hurt. So wroth was he, in fact, 



