"Hunt Schillingschen all night if you want to.

I'm going back to tell Fred I've lost my rifle, and was afraid to face you for fear you'd laugh at me.

Go on--take it! No, you've got to take it!" I let the rifle fall at his feet, and he was forced to pick it up.

By that time I was on my way, and he had to hurry if he hoped to catch me.
I kept him hurrying--cursing, and calling out to wait.

And so, hours later, we arrived in sight of Fred's fires and answered his cheery challenge: "Halt there, or I'll shoot your bally head off!" Lions had kept him busy making the boys pile thornwood on the fires.
He had shot two--one inside the enclosure, where the brute had jumped in a vain effort to reach the frantic donkeys.