s enemy's sight.

There was nothing to be done, then, but to crawl on to a more open spot,
and as he was going in the direction taken by the horse in feeding the
last time he saw it, the boy felt not the slightest uneasiness, being
sure that he should come in sight of it directly.

Still the minutes glided on as he made for the more open part where the
sand lay bare, and he began now to grow uneasy at not seeing the cob,
and at last, like a crushing disaster, he saw that the poor animal must
have scented the lion, or been alarmed at the cracking of the bones,
and, in consequence, it had quietly shuffled as far away as it could in
the time. There it was, a couple of miles away, right in the open
plain, and though at that distance its movement could not be made out,
it was in all probability shuffling its way along to save its life.

Dyke's heart sank in his breast as he knelt there in the sand, feeling
as if his case was as hopeless as ever, and for the moment he felt
disposed to creep right into the densest place he could find, and lie
there till darkness set in, when he would take his bearings as well as
he could from the stars, and then try to reach Kopfontein. But at that
moment there came to him his brother's words, and the little absurd
story about trying till to-morrow morning. A trifling thing; but at
that moment enough to make Dyke sling his gun over his back, thrust the
knife into its sheaf, mark down the position of the fire by the faint
smoke, and then start off crawling on all-fours straight away, not after
the horse, but so as to keep the bushes well between him and the lion.

The exertion was great and the heat terrible. Never had the sand seemed
so hot before, nor the air so stifling to breathe; but he crept on
silently and pretty quickly, till, glancing back over his shoulder, he
found that he might move straight at once to where he could see Breezy
looking distant and misty through the lowest stratum of the quivering
air. For the low bushes hid him no longer; there was the faint smoke of
the fire still rising, and just beyond it the big carcass of the eland,
made monstrous by the great maned lion, crouching, tearing at the neck.

At the sight of this, Dyke dropped down flat, and lay panting and
motionless for a few minutes. Then he began to crawl straight for the
horse, grovelling along upon his breast. But this soon proved to be far
too painful and laborious a mode of progression, and he rose