up the torch as high as he
could, and the doctor and Mark pressed forward with their rifles
extended on either side of the big driver.

"That's right, gen'lemen," he said. "Now you can't hurt me, so you can
let go when you like."

"One minute, gentlemen," said Bob Bacon. "This was to be my job. You,
Bob, hand over that there link; I only give it to you to hold while I
struck a match."

"Yes, I know, mate," replied Buck, "but it's well alight now, and you
are quite safe there. Now, gen'lemen, can you see him?"

"Yes; take care!" cried Mark. "I can see its eyes gleaming. Look,
doctor--can't you see?"

"Yes, quite plainly. Some animal that has crept in here to die."

"That's it, sir," cried Bob Bacon. "I can see him too. Here, don't
waggle the light about like that, Buck. Look, gentlemen; there arn't
much sperrit left in him, for he's lying up against the side there as
quiet as a mouse."

"Quiet enough," said the doctor; "but take care. The brute may have
life enough left in it to scratch."

"Not him, sir," said Buck, who now took a couple of steps forward,
shaking the light to and fro to make it flare more brightly. "He arn't
got much scrat left in him, sir."

"What is it--an old leopard?"

"No, sir. There, I can see quite plain now. It's one of them baboons,
same as live on some of these kopjes; and a whacker too, and as grey as
a Devon badger. Here, Bob Bacon, as you are so precious anxious to have
the light, catch hold. I will soon see whether he will scratch or not."

"What are you going to do, man?" cried the doctor, as the exchange of
torchbearer was effected.

"Lug him out, sir."

"No, no! You will get torn."

"Nay, sir. He's got no scrat in him."

"Perhaps not, Buck," said Mark excitedly, "but I have read that those
things can bite like a dog. Stand still and let me shoot."

"Nay, sir; let's have him out into the light."

Before any protest or fresh order could be given the big driver thrust
out a hand and gripped the grey-looking object which had crawled
apparently right to the end of the cavernous hole. There was a faint
struggle, and a low guttural cry.

"There's no bite in him, sir," cried Buck. "I don't believe he's got a
tooth in his head. Now then, old 'un; out you come!"

By this time Buck had got hold of a long, thin, hairy arm, and
overcoming a slight resistance and scuffling, began to walk backwards,
dragging his prisoner after him, his companions making wa