But it did not seem to matter, for everything was very restful and pleasant, as the golden sun sent the shadow of himself and horse far away along the plain. He was safe, for the lion could be laughed at by any one well mounted as he was then. At last the pleasant sensation of safety was combined with a dull restfulness that grew and grew, till, moving gently in that canter over the soft sand, which hushed the cob's paces to a dull throb, the glow in the west became paler and paler, and then dark. Then bright again, for Dyke recovered himself with a jerk, and sat upright, staring. "I do believe I was dropping off to sleep," he muttered. "That won't do. I shall be off.--Go on, Breezy, old boy. You had a good long rest, and didn't have to crawl on your knees. How far is it now?" Far enough, for the kopje was only just visible against the sky. But again it did not seem to matter, for all grew dull again. Dyke had kept on nodding forward, and was jerked up again, but only for him to begin nodding again. Soon after he made a lurch to the left, and Breezy ceased cantering, and gave himself a hitch. Then followed a lurch to the right, and the cob gave himself another hitch to keep his master upon his back, progressing afterwards at a steady walk, balancing his load: for Dyke was fast asleep, with the reins slack and his chin down upon his chest, and kept in his place by the natural clinging of his knees, and the easy movement of the sagacious beast he rode. But all at once he lurched forward, and instinctively clung to the horse's neck, with the result that Breezy stopped short, and began to crop the shoots of the bushes, only moving a step or two from time to time. CHAPTER TWELVE. DYKE IS AGGRIEVED. "Fine chance for a lion," said Emson, as at dusk he left the oxen, being slowly driven by Kaffir Jack, and cantered off to his left to draw rein in front of Dyke, the boy sitting upright with a start. "Eh?" "I say a fine chance for a lion," cried Emson again. "No: couldn't catch,"--_snore_. "Here! Hi! Little one. Wake up!" cried Emson. "Yes; all right!--What's the matter?" "Matter? why, you're asleep, you stupid fellow: a lion might have come upon you in that state." "Lion? Come upon? Did--did you speak to me?" said Dyke thickly. "Speak to you? of course. Why, you foolish, careless fellow, what was the matter? Afraid to stay by the game?" Dyke looked at him drowsily, striving to catch all that had been said, but only partially grasping the meaning. "Don't know--what you mean," he said thickly. "I mean it was very cowardly of you to forsake your charge, boy," said Emson sternly. "It's vital for us to save that meat, and I trusted you to watch it. Now you've come away, and it will be horribly mauled by the jackals; perhaps we shall find half a hundred vultures feeding upon it when we get there. Hang it, Dyke! you might have stayed till I came back."