e direction from
which he had come.

Rifles were held ready, and all stood waiting for the next onslaught,
till the black rushed, wildly gesticulating, into their midst.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

ANYBODY KILLED?

"Hello, mate! What's wrong with you? Don't say as you have found Dunn
Brown?" cried Buck.

"Pete, Pete, Peter!" said the black, in a high state of excitement, and
he pointed with his broken spear in the opposite direction to that which
the lions seemed to have taken.

"Peter Dance!" said Sir James excitedly.

"Oh, poor old Dance!" said Mark, in a low, hoarse voice.

"Not dead! Not dead!" cried Dean.

The black shook his head violently, pointed again with his spear, and
then bending down began to slap his right leg.

"Oh, that's it, is it?" said Buck. "I thought he had come to say,
gentleman, as he had found all that the lions had left of him."

"Well," said the doctor, "what does he mean?"

"Something wrong with his leg, sir, and I hope one of the great cats
ain't mauled him, because their bites are likely to go bad."

"Here, show us where he is," cried Mark excitedly; and closely followed
by Dean he caught the black by the arm and pointed.

That was enough. Mak pointed and smiled, and the whole party followed
him at the double, Buck Denham grunting now and then as he ran, and
pointing out where the undoubted footprints of a lion were plainly
marked where the ground was soft.

It was quite a quarter of a mile from the waggons, and in the midst of
some dense undergrowth, that their guide stopped short and stood
pointing in a way that showed there was no danger in the approach, when
Mark whispered, with his heart sinking, "Oh, Dean, I'm afraid he's badly
hurt!"

But at the same moment Bob Bacon sprang in amongst the bushes, trampling
them down, side by side with the black.

"Where are you, mate?" cried Bacon, in a hoarse voice.

"Here, lad, here!" And then with a deep groan the poor fellow of whom
they were in search said reproachfully, "Thought you were going to leave
me here to die."

"Not likely," said Mark angrily. "Where are you hurt?"

"That you, Mr Mark?" groaned the keeper. "Oh, all over, and I'm afraid
my leg's broke."

"Let me come," said the doctor. "Knives here: cut back some of these
thorns. Now then, try to bear it, my lad," he continued, as he knelt
beside the injured man, who was half invisible amongst the thick growth.

"Oh!" groaned the keeper.

"There, I wi