All was silent.

He listened, in agony, for the sniffing of the lion, puzzling him out by scent.

No:  all was silent.

Staines looked round, and saw a woolly head, and two saucer eyes and open nostrils close by him.  It was the Hottentot, more dead than alive.

Staines whispered him, “I think he is gone.”

The Hottentot whispered, “Gone a little way to watch.  He is wise as well as strong.”  With this he disappeared beneath the water.

Still no sound but the screaming of the vultures, and snarling of the hyenas and jackals over the eland.

“Take a look,” said Staines.

“Yes,” said Squat; “but not to-day.  Wait here a day or two.  Den he forget and forgive.”

Now Staines, having seen the lion lie down and watch the dying eland, was a great deal impressed by this; and as he had now good hopes of saving his life, he would not throw away a chance.  He kept his head just above water, and never moved.

In this freezing situation they remained.

Presently there was a rustling that made both crouch.

It was followed by a croaking noise.

Christopher made himself small.

The Hottentot, on the contrary, raised his head, and ventured a little way into the stream.

By these means he saw it was something very foul, but not terrible.  It was a large vulture that had settled on the very top of the nearest acacia.

At this the Hottentot got bolder still, and to the great surprise of Staines began to crawl cautiously into some rushes, and through them up the bank.

The next moment he burst into a mixture of yelling and chirping and singing, and other sounds so manifestly jubilant, that the vulture flapped heavily away, and Staines emerged in turn, but very cautiously.

Could he believe his eyes?  There lay the lion, dead as a stone, on his back, with his four legs in the air, like wooden legs, they were so very dead:  and the valiant Squat, dancing about him, and on him, and over him.

Staines, unable to change his sentiments so quickly, eyed even the dead body of the royal beast with awe and wonder.  What! had he already laid that terrible monarch low, and with a tube made in a London shop by men who never saw a lion spring, nor heard his awful roar shake the air?  He stood with his heart still beating, and said not a word.  The shallow Hottentot whipped out a large knife, and began to skin the king of beasts.  Staines wondered he could so profane that masterpiece of nature.  He felt more inclined to thank God for so great a preservation, and then pass reverently on, and leave the dead king undesecrated.

He was roused from his solemn thoughts by the reflection that there might be a lioness about, since there were cubs:  he took a piece of paper, emptied his remaining powder into it, and proceeded to dry it in the sun.  This was soon done, and then he loaded both barrels.