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Dead Man’s Land: Being the Voyage to Zimbambangwe of certain and uncertain
Chapter 24. "Don't Shoot, Father!"
George Manville Fenn
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       _ CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. "DON'T SHOOT, FATHER!"
       "Why, we are as snug here as can be," said Dean.
       "Should be," said Mark, "if it wasn't for that fire."
       For the night set in dark--a night which would have been of intense blackness but for the brilliant points of light that shone down like effulgent jewels spread upon a sky of the deepest purple dye.
       But it was light enough within the enclosure formed by the perpendicular patch of granite rock, the two waggons, and the dense mass of thorny faggots which had been gathered and built up so as to hedge them in.
       A goodly portion of the fourth opening into the little kraal was filled up by the large fire which was burning for the protection of the bullocks and ponies, and thoroughly lit up the camping place, but in return for its protection extorted the suffering from the heat, not only in front but reflected down from the rocks behind.
       "Yes," said Dean, "it is rather a roaster. Couldn't we let it out now?"
       "No," said the doctor decisively. "I have just been outside to have a look round with Mak. We were only out for a few minutes, and the black caught me twice by the arm to listen."
       "Well, did you hear anything?" said Mark.
       "Yes; lions."
       The boy made a movement as if to reach his rifle.
       "You need not do that," said the doctor, "for the sounds were distant. Still, lions travel fast, and we might have a visit at any time; so you see that you have an answer to your proposal about letting the fire out."
       "Yes," said Dean; "that settles it."
       "Besides," said the doctor, "we should not be any cooler if there were no fire."
       "Oh-h-h!" said Mark, in a tone that suggested doubt.
       "Don't be too sceptical, my boy," said the doctor. "Let me prove it to you. Come a little nearer the fire."
       The doctor had led the way, and together they stood so near to the glowing flames that they looked to those whom they left behind like a pair of figures cut out of black cloth.
       "Now," said the doctor, "how do you feel?"
       "As if my face would be scorched if I stopped here."
       "Nothing more?"
       "Oh, yes," said Mark; "I feel quite a cool wind blowing into my neck."
       "Exactly," said the doctor. "As the heated air rises from the fire the cool air from the veldt rushes in to take its place. Why, don't you remember when the haystack was on fire at the farm at home how we went to see it, walked close up, and felt the cold wind rushing towards the flames so that you had a stiff neck the next day?"
       "Of course! I had forgotten that," said Mark, laughing. "Well, we must put up with the fire, I suppose."
       The watch was set that night, and fell to the lot of Sir James, who took up his post near the fire, rifle in hand, while every man lay down with his piece by his side, for three times by sounds much nearer, the animals were made uneasy. The bullocks couched close to the trek-tow and the ponies stamped restlessly again and again from where they were haltered to one of the wheels inside the enclosure and close up to the granite wall.
       But in one case a deep growl from Buck Denham seemed to comfort the great sleek beasts, and a word or two in his highly pitched voice from Dunn Brown turned the ponies' stamping into a gentle whinny.
       At last the only sounds within the walls of the kraal were the low whispering of the two boys.
       "How far is it to black Mak's big stones, do you think?" said Mark.
       "Eh?" was the reply. "You heard what I said."
       "That I didn't!"
       "Then you were asleep. I thought you were."
       "Nonsense!" said Dean indignantly. "I had only just lain down. What was it you said?"
       Mark laughed, to his cousin's great annoyance. "I said, How far is it to black Mak's big stones?"
       "A whole day's journey."
       "Nonsense! Why, this evening they looked quite near."
       "Yes, but the doctor said that was the refraction."
       "Well, I hope it will refract some of the gold when we get there," said Mark. "I want to see what the place is like."
       "We don't want the gold," said Dean. "Yes, we do. We should like to get some of it as curiosities. But oh, I say, doesn't it seem like all pother about what the doctor said? There's none of the cool air from the veldt coming in here under the waggon tilt." Dean made no reply.
       "I shall never go to sleep in here like this. My hair's getting quite wet. Isn't yours?"
       _Burrrr_!
       "I say, Dean, don't be so horribly wide awake. I can't go to sleep if you are. Can you?"
       "Eh?"
       "Feel sleepy?" said Mark mockingly. "That I wasn't. I wish you wouldn't be so fond of trying to make jokes when we come to bed."
       "Well, you can do as you like," said Mark, laughing, "but I'm going to lie with my head outside in the air."
       "Eh? Yes, it is hot," said Dean, turning over. "I say, what are you doing?"
       "Getting up."
       "What for? Can't be morning yet."
       "Oh, no," said Mark, laughing; "not quite. Oh, what a fellow you are! There, rouse up and let me throw a blanket over the big chest, and when I have tied back the tilt we will lie with our heads out there, and perhaps we shall be able to breathe the cool air."
       This proved to be the case, with the result that Dean went off to sleep instantly, while Mark kept dozing off and waking again with a start.
       At last, tired of the uneasy feeling that troubled him, he crept out from the tail end of the waggon and stood looking about the enclosure, where all was still save the heavy breathing of one of the ponies or that of the bullocks.
       "Phew!" sighed Mark. "What a hot night! Here, I know; I'll go and see how the dad is getting on."
       A few steps took him to where he could see his father's face, the glow from the fire throwing it up and flashing from his eyes.
       "He is getting sunburnt," thought the boy, and then, stepping out of the shadow cast by the waggon, he walked quickly towards the sentry of the night and began speaking aloud:
       "Don't shoot, father!"
       "Why, Mark, my boy, what are you doing here? Have you heard anything?"
       "No, father; but I couldn't sleep. Have you?"
       "I heard a lion once, with his deep barking roar, and there are several of those wretched jackals about. I am afraid we shall hear a good deal more of these noises out in the plain than we did close in the shelter of the forest. But don't stop talking. Go back to sleep."
       "But I can't sleep, father," said the boy reproachfully.
       "Nonsense! Try again. I daresay you will be able to go off now, after coming out and talking to me."
       "But can't I stay with you, father?" protested the boy.
       "No. You must have sleep, and if you don't you will be uneasy to-morrow. What makes you so wakeful? Not going to be ill, are you?"
       "Oh, no, father; I'm quite well."
       "Then go back to the waggon and lie down."
       "Good-night, father."
       "Good-night," was the reply. "Ah, there's another of those jackals. What a miserable note it is!"
       "Yes, father; but I think the hyaenas are worse," said Mark eagerly.
       "Didn't I tell you to go back to bed, sir!"
       "Yes, father, but--"
       "Then go."
       "Bother!" muttered the boy, as he went off. "He might as well have let me stay. It would have been company for him."
       Mark stepped on towards the dark side of the waggon, and continued muttering to himself till he raised his hand to the side of the great clumsy vehicle, placed a foot on one of the spokes, and was in the act of drawing himself up to climb in, but suddenly let himself drop back, for something leaped out of the interior of the waggon right over his cousin, reaching the earth with a dull thud, and darting away.
       "Whatever can that be?" said the boy excitedly, and with a catching of the breath.
       He felt his heart begin to pump heavily in his excitement.
       "It must have been one of those leopards, but it gave me no time to see what it was like. Here, Dean," he whispered, as he climbed up and bent over his sleeping cousin. "Dean!"
       "Oh, bother!"
       "Don't make a noise," whispered Mark. "Wake up."
       "Eh? Is it lions?"
       "No, no. Speak lower, or you will alarm the camp."
       "Well, what do you want? You are always making me wake up when I have just dropped off to sleep. What is it?"
       "Hush! I have just been out to talk to father."
       "Have you?" said Dean, half asleep again. "Wha'd he say?"
       "Never mind what he said," whispered Mark, with his face close to his cousin's ear.
       "I don't."
       "No, you don't, of course, you sleepy head! Wake up."
       Mark seized his cousin by the shoulders, raised his head, and let it fall down again with a bump on the blanket-covered box lid.
       "Oh, you brute!" began Dean, wide awake now.
       "Well, I didn't mean to do it so hard; but do you want to lie here with wild things coming at you?"
       "Eh? No," cried Dean, half rising up. "What do you mean?"
       "I mean I went out to talk to father--"
       "Well, yes, you said so before," cried the boy pettishly; and he made as if to lay his head down again.
       "No, you don't!" cried Mark, checking him. "Listen."
       "I--can't--lis'--I am so slee--"
       "Do you want to be eaten up by wild beasts?"
       "Eh? No," cried Dean, fully awake now.
       "I came back to the waggon, and was just getting in when something came from behind you."
       "What was it? Not a big snake?"
       "No, no. I thought it was a leopard, but I don't think so now. I only just had a glimpse of it as it jumped out and dropped down at the end there, and scuttled off."
       "Oh!" cried Dean excitedly. "A leopard?"
       "No," whispered Mark. "It was one of those baboons."
       "What baboons? I haven't seen any baboons."
       "No, no; but one of those that they say live in packs amongst the kopjes."
       "Ugh!" ejaculated Dean. "I believe they bite horribly."
       "Well, did you feel him bite?"
       "Of course not! If I had it would have woke me up."
       "Oh, I don't know," said his cousin, laughing. "Well, at all events one of them must have got in here as soon as I had gone, and been making itself comfortable in my place."
       "I say, I don't like that," said Dean. "You shouldn't have gone."
       "Well, I didn't want to," said Mark softly. "But I am glad we are not going to stay here, for though we did not see any, this must be one of the kopjes where the baboons live. I say, do you feel sleepy now?"
       "No, not a bit."
       "Nor do I. Let's lie still and talk. That will rest us, even if we don't sleep, and, as father says, we want to be fresh to-morrow."
       "All right," said Dean, reaching for his rifle. "But let's keep a sharp look out."
       This they did for quite five minutes, and then so hardened were they to their outdoor life that their restful breathing was the only thing that disturbed the silence within the waggon, save a faint rustling at the other end, caused by the doctor turning over, for during the last few minutes he had been awakened from a deep sleep by the boys' muttering, and now that they were quiet again he too went off soundly.
       It still wanted an hour to the coming of the first dawn when Mark started up.
       "Here--what--" he began, when a hand was clapped over his mouth and he felt Dean's lip at his ear. "Don't make a noise," his cousin whispered. "What's the matter? Has the ape been again?"
       "No. It wasn't a baboon; it was one of those pigs."
       "Bosh! A pig couldn't climb into the waggon."
       "No, no, stupid! Pigmy!"
       "What nonsense! You have been asleep again."
       "Yes, fast; I couldn't help it. So were you."
       "Was I? Well, yes, I suppose I was; and I'm glad of it. But I have had a sensible sleep."
       "Well, so have I, but--"
       "No, you haven't. Mine was, for I didn't get dreaming that I saw a baboon."
       "And I didn't either," whispered Dean angrily. "I was asleep, but I woke up feeling a soft hand going over my face."
       "Bah! You dreamt it."
       "I didn't, I tell you! I could feel it as plain as could be; and then it moved away from me, and I could just make out by the starlight that it was passing its hand over your face. Didn't you feel it?"
       "No," said Mark. "You can't feel ghosts and dreams. They only seem."
       "Ghosts and dreams!" said Dean impetuously.
       "Well, baboons, then--sleep baboons. Oh, I say, Dean, what's coming to you? You used to be content with going to sleep like a top. But if you are going to begin having dreams like this I shall sleep under the waggon."
       "Oh, you obstinate mule! Who said anything about baboons?"
       "Why, you did."
       "I didn't. I said it was one of those pigmies."
       "Then you dreamt it. What time is it?"
       "I don't know. Shall I strike a light?"
       "What, and wake the doctor? No, it would only make him grumpy at being roused for nothing. There, I can guess pretty closely. It wants over an hour to dawn. So here goes. I'm off."
       As he spoke Mark wrenched himself round, turning his back to his cousin, and at the same time reached his face over so that he could breathe in the cool, soft breeze that comes just before the day, while Dean sighed and followed his example, both sleeping heavily till there was a sharp crack of a waggon whip, and they both started up, to utter almost together, "Hallo!"
       "Hallo!"
       And then they stared hard at each other over something else. _