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Updated: June 12, 2025
Men were running hither and thither carrying out a series of orders shouted in stentorian tones. The Zungeru was altering course without slackening speed, listing noticeably to starboard as the helm was put hard over. Almost at the same time Laxdale awoke. "What's up?" he enquired drowsily. "I don't know," replied his companion. "I can hear Spofforth and Danvers going on deck.
The rat, terrified by the din, had retired to a recess formed by the bulkhead of the cabin and the fixed wash-basin and was acting strictly on the defensive. "Aha!" exclaimed Laxdale. "Now you're cornered. No use yelling 'Mercy, kamerad."
As the shadows shortened the trek was resumed, each man keeping his loaded rifle ready for instant use. Before they had gone two hundred yards, following a native path on which the spoor of a couple of lions was distinctly visible, Laxdale suddenly disappeared, while Wilmshurst, who was walking hard on his heels, was only just able to save himself from following his example.
MacGregor, Laxdale, and Danvers were on ahead, Spofforth and Wilmshurst about fifty paces behind, Bela Moshi with the cub was close on Dudley's heels, while the Haussas with the dead panther were some distance in the rear, the blacks carrying the officers' rifles since the hunters were clear of the bush.
Laxdale, you will please send a runner to the colonel and tell him that we've proposed bivouacking here till dawn."
Down came Wilmshurst's towel roller a fraction of a second too late for Mister Rat. At the same time Laxdale moved his hands along the ledge of the drawer and received the full force of the blow across the knuckles. "Sorry!" exclaimed Wilmshurst. Laxdale, nursing the injured hand, made no audible comment.
"Think we'll have any luck, MacGregor?" asked Laxdale. "Hanged if I want to spend all night lugging a rifle about without the chance of a shot." The Rhodesian smiled dourly. He knew the supreme optimism of amateur huntsmen and the general disinclination of the King of Beasts to be holed by a bullet. "Unless a lion is ravenously hungry he will not put in an appearance," he replied.
"If any fellow deserves the D.C.M. it's he." "And a little bird whispered to me," continued Laxdale, "that a certain member of the antient and accepted order of the Lone Star Crush did a jolly risky thing fetching water under enemy fire." Wilmshurst coloured hotly. "Rot!" he ejaculated. "Fritz couldn't see me. They were putting up a lot of small arms ammunition, of course.
The while derricks were swaying in and out, whipping the baggage from the holds of the lighters that lay alongside, grinding heavily in the swell, fenders notwithstanding. Having seen the men of his platoon safely on board Wilmshurst went below to the two-berthed cabin which he was to share with Laxdale, the subaltern of No. 2 platoon.
"I say, old man, let's turn in again. What's the matter with you?" He grasped Wilmshurst by the arm. The subaltern, apparently heedless of the touch, was gazing fixedly at the tramp. The mercantile officer and Laxdale both followed the direction of his look, the former giving vent to a low whistle. From above the gunwale of a boat stowed amidships on the Ponto a feeble light glimmered.
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