"Bring fire-sticks," cried out Mr. Blakeney. "You, Poeskop, stay with Baas Tom, and get him to the fire. Guy, Jan, Seleti, come with me. You, Mangwalaan, stay by the oxen." Jan Kokerboom and Seleti armed themselves with flaming brands, and the four advanced into the darkness. They could see little beyond a dozen feet in front of them. Again they listened. The wild boy’s voice was no more heard, but in its place there came from the outer darkness a sickening scrunching of bones. It was the lion devouring his victim, apparently some forty yards away. "Oh," cried Mr. Blakeney, "I can’t stand this. We must go on." They moved forward ten yards, and then, from some thick bush in front of them, there came a low, cavernous, threatening growl from the brute, disturbed at its prey. Mr. Blakeney and Guy fired together, and reloaded. They could hear the man-killer dragging the unfortunate lad yet farther into the bush. Again they fired. Now the men’s torches were getting low. Still they advanced again, though much against the will of the two natives. "Baas," whispered Jan Kokerboom, "this is madness. My fire-stick will be out in another minute, and we shall all be killed by the lions. There are more about. I have heard them." Still Mr. Blakeney and Guy pushed on a few yards farther, until their advance was barred by thicker and stronger bush. "It’s useless, Guy," said Mr. Blakeney, in a stern voice. "We’ve done all we can. We must go back. By this time the poor creature is dead, undoubtedly. It’s a bad job, but we can do no more. Come!" They turned quickly, and with the torches flickering out made their way back to the camp fires. For the rest of that night they got little rest. Tom first had to be attended to. The lioness in her attack had badly shaken him; but beyond some deep scratches inflicted by one paw on the back of the shoulder as she held him down, he was unhurt. These wounds were dressed with carbolic and water, as usual. Two hours later an attack made by another pair of lions on the cattle scherms was successfully repelled, and an old, worn-out lion shot through the thorn fence by Jan Kokerboom and Mangwalaan. Towards dawn the white men slept for a couple of hours or so. After breakfast they prepared to take vengeance upon the murderer of the unfortunate wild boy. Mr. Blakeney wished much to persuade Tom to stay behind and help Seleti and Mangwalaan to look after the camp. "No, pater," pleaded Tom; "this is really my business. You know what an interest I took in the poor little chap. In a way I looked on him as belonging to me. I’ll keep behind. My shoulder is not very bad, and I can, at all events, carry a spare rifle in case you need it."