The Major's heart sank within him: not that he had had much hope from the first; and he bitterly reproached himself for having allowed the boys to go off alone. Day was beginning to dawn when they came in sight of the range of hills over which the herd had disappeared when chased by the boys; here the `spoor' of the hartebeest was very distinct, and the Hottentot, tracking them to the foot of the hill, pointed out to his master where they had crossed. Hope then revived in the Major's breast, for it struck him that the boys might have followed the game afoot, and during their absence the horses must have broken loose and galloped off--frightened most probably by some wild beast. "We will off-saddle for an hour or so, William," said he, drawing rein and dismounting near the entrance to the ravine. "And do you ascend the hills, and--" "Vat dat, baas?" cried Black William, as a rifle-shot echoed amongst the hills--a shot that had evidently been fired at no great distance from the spot where they stood. "The boys!" shouted Major Flinders; "the boys, no doubt! Come on, man." And springing into his saddle, he put spurs to his horse and rode up the ravine at full gallop, followed by the Hottentot. When Tom Flinders recovered consciousness he staggered to his feet and took a look around him. A few paces up the ravine lay George Weston; the dead leopard was a little further on; but the horses were nowhere to be seen. "This is pleasant!" said Tom, feeling himself all over to make sure that no bones were broken. "How my poor head does ache, to be sure; that tiger must have caught me a thundering lick with his paw! I do hope poor old George isn't done for," he added, kneeling down by the side of his friend; "he got it far worse than I did. Halloa, George! how are you, old chap?" At the sound of his friend's voice George Weston's senses partially came back to him, and--much to Tom's relief--he made an attempt to raise his head; but he had been sorely mauled by the leopard, and was quite unable to speak, or help himself. Seeing this, Tom looked about for a suitable place to take him, and presently hit upon a small cavity in the hillside: thither he carried the senseless boy, and proceeded to dress his wounds as well as he was able; for George was much hurt, the leopard having severely lacerated his thigh with her formidable claws, besides biting him right through the forearm. However, Tom made him as comfortable as possible; then, seeing that nothing more could be done until morning, he gathered some boughs, brushwood, and large stones, and with them built up a rough breastwork in front of the cavity--which might be described as a small cave about six feet deep, by five or six in height. Then he dragged the dead leopard within it, secured George's rifle and the shattered remains of his own, and, after a heart-felt prayer of thankfulness for his escape, lay down beside his friend, and fell fast asleep.