the beast
which had charged was hit--but at last _crick, crack_, and a tearing
noise came from out of the darkness toward the stables, and taking
another guess aim, the boy fired and listened intently as he reloaded
his piece.

Once more there was silence till a distant roar was heard, and Dyke felt
hopeful that he had scared away his enemy; but hardly had he thought
that, when the cracking and tearing noise arose once more, telling
plainly enough that if the beast had been scared away, it had only been
for a short distance, and it had now returned to feed.

Dyke's piece rang out again, as he fired in the direction of the sounds,
all feeling of dread now being carried away by the excitement, and a
sense of rage that, in all probability, one of the best draught oxen had
been pulled down and was being eaten only a few yards from where he
stood.

Crack went a bone once more, as the noise of the piece died out, showing
that the lion had ceased to pay attention to the report.

And now Dyke fired again, and backed right into the house, startled by
the result, for this time his bullet had evidently told--the lion
uttering a savage, snarling roar, which was followed by a crash, as if
caused by the monster leaping against one of the fences in an effort to
escape.

Then once more all was still. The tearing and rending had ceased, and
though the boy listened patiently for quite an hour, no animal returned
to the savage banquet.

At last, tired out, Dyke closed and secured the door, to sit down and
wait for day, no disposition to sleep troubling him through the rest of
the night. Once or twice he struck a match to hold it near his
brother's face, but only to find him lying sleeping peacefully, the
reports of the gun having had no effect whatever; while as the light
flashed up, Dyke caught a glimpse of the dog crouching at the door, with
head low, watching and listening for the approach of a foe.

But no enemy came, and at the first flush of dawn Dyke opened the door
cautiously, to look out and see one of the cows, all torn and bloody,
lying half-a-dozen yards from its shed; and just within the first fence,
where a gap had been broken through, crouched a full-grown lioness,
apparently gathering itself up for a spring.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

DAYLIGHT.

Dyke's first movement was back into the house, and to put up the bar
across the closed door, his heart beating violently; his next, to watch
the little window, an