The Fugitives | Page 9

Flowers is all bery well to look at, but we can't heat him."
"Well, if we can't eat, we can, at all events, sleep," returned Mark. "I believe it is usually thought wise in tropical countries to cease work and rest about noon, so, as I feel rather tired, I'll have a snooze. What say you?"
No objection being made, the party again climbed into the branches of a low spreading tree, in order to avoid snakes, scorpions, or any other noxious creatures, though they knew not at the time whether such existed on the island. In less than five minutes they were sound asleep.
Awaking after about two hours' repose, they descended, wished for something to eat, sighed, put a bold heart on it, tightened their belts to suit diminishing waists, and continued their journey.
Perseverance is sure to be rewarded. If that is not a proverb, it ought to be! At all events the perseverance of our travellers was rewarded at this time by their coming suddenly out of the woods into a wide grassy plain, on which was browsing a herd of wild cattle--at least they judged them to be wild from the fact of their being discovered in such a wild place, and resolved to treat them as wild because of the "wolves" inside of them, which clamoured so wildly for food.
"Beef!" exclaimed Hockins in some excitement, as he pointed to the animal nearest to them, which happened to be a black, sleek, fat young bull, with slender limbs and fierce eyes.
"Neber mind the wegibles, massa; shot 'un!" exclaimed Ebony in an excited whisper, as he turned his glaring eyeballs on his leader.
"Hush! don't speak," returned Mark, drawing quietly back into cover--for the animal had not observed them. "We must consult what is to be done, because, you know, we have lost our powder-flask, the two charges in my gun are all I have got, and these are only small shot--I have no bullets!"
Grave concern overspread the face of the sturdy seaman--blank dismay that of the sea-cook!
"Might as well blaze at the beast wi' sand," said Hockins.
"Or wid nuffin'," sighed Ebony.
"Nevertheless, I will try," said Mark, quickly. "We shall be starved to death at this rate. Yonder is a line of bushes that runs close out to the brute. I'll stalk it. When close I will make a dash at it, get as near as I can, clap the muzzle against its ribs if possible, and--well, we shall see! You two had better stop here and look on."
"No, massa," said the negro, firmly, "I go wid you. If you is to die, we die togidder!"
"What are you thinking of, Hockins?" asked the youth, observing that the seaman stood staring at the ground with knitted brows, as if in deep thought.
"I'll go with you too," he replied, drawing his cutlass and feeling its point with his finger. "You may need help. Heave ahead, sir."
Mark could not avoid smiling at the way in which this was said, although he was sufficiently impressed with the hopelessness, it might even be the danger, of the attempt he was about to make.
They found no difficulty in approaching to within about thirty yards of the animal, being well concealed by the line of bushes before mentioned, but beyond that point there was no cover. Here therefore Mark cocked his gun and gathered himself up for a rush, and Hockins drew his cutlass. So agile was our young doctor that he actually reduced the thirty yards to ten before the astonished bull turned to fly. Another moment and the contents of both barrels were lodged in its flank. The effect was to produce a bellow of rage, a toss-up of the hindquarters, and a wild flourish of the tail, as the animal scurried away after the rest of the herd, which was in full flight.
Poor Breezy stopped at once, with a feeling of mingled disgust and despair. Ebony also stopped, and looked with wide sympathetic eyes in his leader's face, as though to say, "Well, massa, you's done your best."
But Hockins ran on with persistent vigour, although the creature was leaving him further behind at every stride.
"Absurd!" murmured Mark, as he gazed at him.
"No use wassomiver," said Ebony.
It did indeed seem as if the seaman's exertions would prove abortive, but something in the spirit of the wounded bull suddenly changed the aspect of affairs. Whether it was the stinging pain of the small shot in its flank, or the indignation in its breast that influenced it we cannot tell, but in a moment it wheeled round with a furious roar and charged its pursuer.
Hockins stopped at once, and his comrades fully expected to see him turn and run; but our seaman was made of better stuff than they gave him credit for, and the situation was not