CHAPTER VI.

PERIL AT HAND.

_"Thou art my hiding-place; Thou shalt preserve me from trouble; Thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance."_—Psalm xxxii. 7.

THE glowing red sun went down, just as David, after much difficulty, had succeeded in kindling his small dry heap of firewood. There was little or no twilight; in a short space all was dark (for the moon had not yet risen), save when the English youth, on his lonely watch, carefully placed one crackling branch after another upon his little fire.

"I must not go to sleep," thought David, "or my fire will go out, especially as I dare not waste my precious fuel to make it large enough to last without constant care. The desert seems to me to be more than usually still: even the jackals are silent, and I cannot hear the hyena's horrible laugh!"

David put his ear close to the ground to listen, and then,—even on that sultry night and close to a fire,—there came over him a feeling like a chill, and he hastily threw on more fuel, and made the flumes leap high, while he looked anxiously in one particular direction, and then bent down again and listened.

"Yes, I could not mistake that sound, though uttered, perhaps, miles from hence! That was the roar of the lion himself! I must not suffer the fire to die down, for that is my only protection now, except the mercy—the watchful care of my God!"

It was no small comfort to David to feel the night-breeze blowing from the direction in which he had heard the roar,—for as he was to windward of the lion, the terrible king of the desert was not so likely to scent either him or the remains of the Springbok which he was heating at the fire. Still it was an awful position for him; alone in the waste, with the knowledge that a fierce wild beast was roaming abroad, and that there was not so much as the barrier of a wall or a hedge between it and him! It was somewhat natural that David, in this strange peril, should recall to mind a verse from St. Peter's epistle.

"'Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary, the Devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.'"

"How much more carefully, how much more anxiously I guard against the lion which can only destroy my body, than I did against him who so nearly destroyed my soul!" thought David. "Here am I now, giving up sleep, treasuring every dry stick as if it were worth its weight in gold, stirring my fire to a blaze, listening, watching, waiting, ready to start up any moment with my spear in my hand! How was it with me in my careless days of sin? Why, I have profanely laughed at the notion of danger; I have been angry at warnings, however wisely given; I have scarcely believed that there was a Devil at all, and I have actually jested with the soul-destroyer's name on my lips! I was no more afraid of the Lion that goeth about to devour, than yon 'dead' antelope is of the fierce wild beast that may swallow it up in a moment. And why was I so easy and careless? It was because I was 'dead in sin;' my conscience was dead! Thank God, the God of mercy, that I did not then perish for ever,—called to the bar of judgment unrepenting, and therefore unforgiven!"

For hours the Wanderer sat feeding his fire, while the full moonlight fell around him, and thousands of twinkling stars glimmered in the deep blue sky above. The fire, kept up to scare away lions and other beasts of prey, was like the grace of God in the heart, which every Christian must carefully tend by watchfulness and prayer. Oh! Dear reader, when we find our hearts growing cold towards God, when our light does "not" shine before men, when we become sleepy and careless in religion, let us tremble and rouse ourselves to greater vigilance. For "our enemy is not asleep," temptation and danger are near, far greater peril than any that can threaten the body alone!

Sometimes David fancied that he saw dim forms, like shadows, moving in the distance. And once again, but still afar off, he heard the sound of the deep low roar which strikes such terror to the heart. He tried to keep his soul calm and composed, trusting in God;—to realise the precious assurance contained in the words of the Saviour:

"'Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God? But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.'"

Who should be so fearless as the Christian who rests under the shadow of the Almighty's wings? Of what need he be afraid to whom death itself, whenever or howsoever it comes, is but a messenger of love to bear him to the presence of a Father!

Though David found comfort in such thoughts, he was thankful when the long, long night wore away, though, oh, how slowly! At length a glow appeared in the eastern sky, the morning broke at last, and there was the Wanderer, alive and unharmed.

How much during the night had David thought of his home and every individual in it; memory calling up each dear familiar face, till he could almost fancy himself again seated with his family round the cheerful board, with little Nelly on his knee. And how fondly he had prayed for every one at Greenside—his good father, his tender mother, the sisters who had been his playmates and friends! What earnest resolutions David had made, that if God should please to spare his life, and let him return to England, he would be the comfort and help of his parents, a true brother and guardian to the girls. How cheerfully would he labour, not for a cruel master, but for a loving father; not as a bondsman, but as a son! And even in such a spirit would he try to work for his God. His service should not be that of slavish fear, but of grateful adoring love! He would think no duty too hard, no duty too painful, if called to do it for the sake of his merciful Saviour!

It was now broad daylight, the sun had risen, and David beheld with surprise the change in the scene before him. Not half a mile distant appeared a large and beautiful lake, reflecting like a polished mirror the glittering sunshine! Here and there a soft isle appeared to dot the blue expanse of the waters. The scene was lovely, and all the more so as contrasted with the barren wildness of that upon which the sun had set on the preceding evening. David gazed with admiration indeed, but not with pleasure. He knew that he looked upon a mirage, that all was as false as it was fair; that with that shining lake before him, he might yet perish with thirst! Wide as the waters appeared, the Wanderer knew that there was not a drop of real moisture with which he could cool his burning lips, and he would have thankfully exchanged all the goodly show for a single cup of cold water!

"Ah!" said David to himself, with a sigh. "Had I but reached this spot at night, and so not have known but too well the nature of the country around, with what eager hope and delight the sight of that lake would have filled me! How, at the cost of any pain, I would have rushed towards it, from the longing to plunge myself into its cool refreshing waters! In the days of my ignorance, it was thus that I looked upon sinful pleasure; it was a mirage to my soul; I must and would reach it, and no one should keep me back! I had what I resolved to obtain, and what did I find? Not cooling waters, but barren sand! Oh! How much of sorrow was needed to teach me the lesson that the soul's thirst for happiness cannot be quenched by the world's mirage! It can only be satisfied by the love of Him who said,—

"'He that believeth on Me shall never thirst.'"

David had imagined that with the night his greatest danger from wild beasts would pass away, that whatever his sufferings might be from its heat, at least some degree of safety would come from the sun. But when, after watching the mirage for some time, he chanced to turn his eyes in a different direction, he started in sudden alarm! What is that coming towards him?—A single creature, and a large one; it is neither giraffe nor zebra!

David, alone and unprotected, felt his heart throb fast at the suspicion which flashed across his mind as to the nature of the creature that came on so rapidly over the sand! It was not long that he could cling to a doubt, it was a large lion that was galloping towards him, and it saw him; for straight as an arrow it came in the Wanderer's direction. The wild beast slackened its pace as it drew nearer; the bounding gallop was changed to a crouching walk. David would willingly at that moment have given his left hand to have had a double-barrelled gun in his right. For well he knew that his small spear would be of little use in a struggle with an enemy so powerful as the desert king. He would not attempt to fling the weapon—it would only serve to irritate, not to inflict a mortal wound.

It was a fearful thing to stand watching the gradual approach of the lion, and yet David was calmer and more resolute than under circumstances far less trying to flesh and blood. Even at that awful time there was a sense of the presence of God, which strengthened his soul to meet danger, and, if needs be, death itself as a man and a Christian should meet them!

David kept his eyes fixed on the lion; and the glaring eyes of the lion were fixed upon him. The youth had often heard tales amongst Hottentots of adventures with wild beasts in which the power of the human eye had been mentioned, and when it had been said that even the lion fears to attack a man who looks him full in the face. David had not put much faith in such stories, but had often said that he believed the best use of the eye in such cases was to direct a heavy bullet aright. But the young Englishman had now no other resource, and he dared scarcely so much as let an eyelid quiver, as he surveyed the lion with so fixed a stare that a dimness seemed to come over his sight from the intensity of his gaze. As if half spell-bound, more and more slowly advanced the lion, crouching catlike on the sand, lashing his tawny tail, and uttering ever and anon a low fierce growl.

Five, ten minutes thus passed—every minute seemed an hour: suspense became almost intolerable; but the end appeared now to be at hand. The lion was not many yards from the English youth, and suddenly, with an angry shake of his mane, drew himself together in the act to spring! At this instant, a sharp report rang through the air, then another, and another,—and almost before the dizzied brain of David could realise the fact that deliverers must be near, the lion, with a wild roar of agony and rage, rolled over on the sand, and lay quivering in death but a few paces from the feet of its destined victim.

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