88 TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 
sleeve, and saying, “ Wake ! wake ! wake ! ” I 
“ awakened,” and took the watch. My rifle lay 
beside me on my right, the oryx trophies on my left. 
The fire was piled up, shedding shafts of light into the 
fearsome darkness. The ponies stood dejectedly. 
This tense silent watching is more of a trial than play- 
acting sleep. I fixed my eyes on the inky blackness 
ihead, and it was not long before my fancy peopled 
the shadows with lurking forms. I chid myself. 
Suddenly I could make out two blazing lights, gleaming 
like little lamps. The eyes of some preying animal. 
I sidled over to the sleeping Clarence, and pushed 
him. He wakened instantly. I told him of the eyes. 
“ Shebel,” he said. A leopard ! This was nice, but 
why bother us when the remains of a whole oryx were 
so close to hand. We sat and waited. The eyes 
again — sometimes at a lower level than others, as 
though the beast crouched as he gazed. “ Let us 
fire together,” I said. 
At my soft “ One, two, three,” we blazed away at the 
twin specks of light. A scuffle, then a hideous scream- 
ing cry, that echoed again in the stillness. Worse 
remains behind. The ponies thoroughly upset by the 
unusual sounds of the jungle at night, and not expect- 
ing the enormous report, simply stampeded before we 
had time to get to them. They made off in mad terror, 
and there we were in a worse hole than ever. Sleep 
was out of the question. We made some more soup 
to pass the hours, julienne and mulligatawny this 
time, and after that I fell to talking to Clarence 
about England. He asked many questions that he 
