denial.

"But the skin would be such a trophy, father," said Jack. "I should
like to have it."

"Go and get it, then," said Mr Rogers; "but don't stop. You may as
well shoot a few birds, though, or any small bok, if you can. We must
make our beef-tea of venison, Dinny says," he added with a smile, "for
the invalid must have plenty of support."

Jack went to have a look at poor Coffee as he lay there insensible, and
softly placed his cool hand upon the poor boy's burning head.

Then he started, for, to his surprise, the General was at his feet with
his arms round his legs, and embracing them closely.

He did not understand it then, but the Zulu was swearing fidelity, and
to lay down his life for him who had saved, as he felt, both his boys.

Just then there was a yelping and baying amongst the dogs, a snarling
noise, and Dinny's voice heard shouting--when Jack ran out, just in time
to see something yellowish and spotted rush among the trees, sending the
oxen into a terrible state of excitement, and making the horses gallop
up to the waggon for protection.

Mr Rogers was out in the open with a gun--but it was too late, there
was nothing to shoot, and the dogs, which had been off after the animal,
came trotting back.

"What was it, Dinny?" said Mr Rogers.

"Sure, sor, an' it was a great big yellow tom cat, wid splashes like
brown gravy all over his dirthy body; an' he came sneaking out of the
wood and made a pounce on Rough'un there; but the dog was too quick for
him, an' run bechuckst the big waggon-wheels, an' thin I threw a pot at
him and aff he went, and the dogs after him."

"How big was it, Dinny?" cried Dick excitedly.

"About as big as ten tom cats, Masther Dick, if they was all biled down
and made into one."

"Get along," cried Dick. "What would it be, father--a leopard?"

"Yes, my boy, undoubtedly. They are very fond of dogs, and will dash
under the waggons sometimes after one. Rough'un has had a narrow
escape. We must look out, for the creature may come again."

It was a long walk to the glade where the lion was shot, but they killed
a couple of the dangerous puff-adders, and shot three or four beautiful
birds, besides bringing down a small gazelle, which they protected with
sticks to keep off the vultures. But the most interesting part of their
journey was during the first mile of their way. They had all separated
so as to look out for game, and were crossing a patch of dense dried-up