s glaring in the sunshine.
And there was no friendly, playful look here, for now Dyke noticed that
this was not the lion which he had encountered by the eland, but
another, evidently one which had been following the droves of antelopes,
and, fierce with hunger, had turned aside after the first object that it
had seen.

At that moment Dyke dropped upon his knees, throwing one arm round the
fettered legs of his favourite, which had ceased its whinnying, and
began to tremble violently, snorting and starting, and, yielding to its
panic at the sight of the approaching enemy, threatened to bound away.

To get the hobbles undone was impossible, for Dyke's hands trembled from
weakness and excitement; but spurred again by despair, he made a couple
of bold cuts, severed the leather thongs, and sprang to his feet.

But there was much yet to do: the bit to fasten, and how could he get it
into the mouth of the horrified beast?--the girths to tighten, while the
cob backed away.

Neither was possible, and glancing once over his shoulder, Dyke snatched
at the mane, but missed it, for the cob started violently, but stopped a
couple of yards away, paralysed with horror at the approach of the
great, stealthy beast.

Another clutch at the mane, and the cob started again; but Dyke had
seized it fast, and was dragged a few yards before Breezy stopped,
trembling in terror; as making one last effort, the boy made a leap and
scramble to mount, dragging the saddle half round, but getting his leg
over, clinging now with both hands to the mane.

Nothing could have been narrower.

The lion had given up its stealthy, creeping approach, and risen at last
to commence a series of bounds, ending with one tremendous leap, which
launched it through the air, and would have landed it next upon Dyke and
his brave little steed; but horror drove off the trembling, paralytic
seizure, and Breezy made also his frantic bound forward, with the result
that the lion almost grazed the horse's haunches as it passed, and
alighted upon the sand. The beast turned with a savage roar; but, urged
by fear, and spurred by its master's hoarse cries, the cob was
galloping, with its eyes turned wildly back, and every breath coming
with a snort of dread.

Certainly nothing could have been narrower, for, enraged by its failure,
the lion was in full pursuit, keeping up bound after bound; but swiftly
as it launched itself forward, its speed fell short of the pace at which