“Gun!” said Christie, and gave the Kafir’s arm a pinch.  She flew to the caravan; he walked backwards, facing the foe.  The wagon was halted, and Dick ran back with two loaded rifles.  In his haste he gave one to Christopher, and repented at leisure; but Christopher took it, and handled it like an experienced person, and said, with delight, “Volunteer.”  But with this the cautious animals had vanished like bubbles.  But Dick told Christopher they would be sure to come back; he ordered Ucatella into the wagon, and told her to warn Phoebe not to be frightened if guns should be fired.  This soothing message brought Phoebe’s white face out between the curtains, and she implored them to get into the wagon, and not tempt Providence.

“Not till I have got thee a kaross of jackal’s fur.”

“I’ll never wear it!” said Phoebe violently, to divert him from his purpose.

“Time will show,” said Dick dryly.  “These varmint are on and off like shadows, and as cunning as Old Nick.  We two will walk on quite unconcerned like, and as soon as ever the varmint are at our heels you give us the office; and we’ll pepper their fur—­won’t we, doctor?”

“We—­will—­pepper—­their fur,” said Christopher, repeating what to him was a lesson in the ancient and venerable English tongue.

So they walked on expectant; and by and by the four-footed shadows with large lime-light eyes came stealing on; and Phoebe shrieked, and they vanished before the men could draw a bead on them.

“Thou’s no use at this work, Pheeb,” said Dick.  “Shut thy eyes, and let us have Yuke.”

“Iss, master:  here I be.”

“You can bleat like a lamb; for I’ve heard ye.”

“Iss, master.  I bleats beautiful;” and she showed snowy teeth from ear to ear.

“Well, then, when the varmint are at our heels, draw in thy woolly head, and bleat like a young lamb.  They won’t turn from that, I know, the vagabonds.”

Matters being thus prepared, they sauntered on; but the jackals were very wary.  They came like shadows, so departed—­a great many times:  but at last being re-enforced, they lessened the distance, and got so close, that Ucatella withdrew her head, and bleated faintly inside the wagon.  The men turned, levelling their rifles, and found the troop within twenty yards of them.  They wheeled directly:  but the four barrels poured their flame, four loud reports startled the night, and one jackal lay dead as a stone, another limped behind the flying crowd, and one lay kicking.  He was soon despatched, and both carcasses flung over the patient oxen; and good-by jackals for the rest of that journey.

Ucatella, with all a Kafir’s love of fire-arms, clapped her hands with delight.  “My child shoots loud and strong,” said she.

“Ay, ay,” replied Phoebe; “they are all alike; wherever there’s men, look for quarrelling and firing off.  We had only to sit quiet in the wagon.”