CHAPTER VII.

RESOLUTIONS.

_"I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye."_—Psalm xxxii. 8.

"A RIGHT good shot, and a splendid prize!" exclaimed a loud cheerful voice in English, as, musket in hand, a young mounted hunter galloped up to the spot, followed by another, a few years older than himself, whose face, bearded and bronzed, was unmistakeably English.

"You've had a narrow escape!" cried the second rider to David, who still stood as if rooted to the ground.

"A merciful deliverance!" gasped the youth.

"Aye, a merciful deliverance indeed!" repeated the first rider, whose name was Carlton. "We had to make a circuit to get a fair broadside shot, and feared, every moment, that the beast would spring on you before we got near enough to take a sure aim. I had to fire at last at so long a range, that I scarcely expected the bullet would strike. What a splendid creature this lion is, Manners! Of all our hunting spoils, this is the noblest by far!"

And dismounting, the young Englishman surveyed with admiration the immense carcass of the once formidable lion.

"You are a lad of mettle!" observed Manners to David. "You stood your ground like a hero!"

"I could neither fight nor fly," answered David simply, "or I'd have been glad enough to do either."

"How came you,—and without a gun,—to be here all alone in such a wild place as this?" asked Carlton with some curiosity and interest.

"I served Hans Kuhe, the Boer, the track of whose waggon you may see yonder. I fell lame; he would not let me ride, and I could not walk,—and so he left me behind."

"The brute!" exclaimed the young hunter.

"But notwithstanding your lameness, you seem to have had some luck in hunting," observed Manners, glancing at what remained of the Springbok.

"I could not follow the game,—the game was sent to me," answered David, his heart glowing with gratitude as he spoke; "wild dogs pulled it down near to this spot, and with my spear I was able to frighten them away, and take what God had provided. It was He, too, who brought you here, gentlemen—you to whom I owe my life, for which I thank you from my soul!"

"We were but just in time," observed Manners.

Carlton had already begun a rough measurement of the lion, which was one of the largest size,—and he conversed eagerly as he went on with his occupation.

"This king of beasts—he deserves the name—has led us a good chase this morning over his desert domain. He was prowling last night round the spot where we had outspanned, and made our oxen half mad with terror. But I suppose he thought discretion the better part of valour, for he did not venture on an attack, and made off before we could get a fair shot. We mounted, and have been following on his spoor ever since there was light enough to see it. But I doubt whether we should ever have come up with our game, had you not headed him, and kept him at bay. You are certainly the hero of this lion adventure, and deserve the tail as a trophy."

"You will, of course, join our party," said Mr. Manners kindly to David; "our waggons will be up in an hour or so, for we intend to outspan to-night at Quagga Fountain."

"And Manners will play surgeon to your hurt," said Carlton gaily; "he is doctor-in-chief to our party, and can set a bone or cut off a leg in a twinkling!"

David joyfully accepted the offers of his fellow-countrymen. The sound of his native tongue, in its purity, was as music to his ears, and the frank, cordial kindness which he met with was all the more delightful, from the contrast which it presented to the harsh conduct of the Boer. How marvellously had the Wanderer been watched over and cared for—to the hungry, food had been sent; to the friendless, friends; and to the helpless, great deliverance! It sweetened every blessing to David, to regard it as coming directly from God. Thankfulness is the parent of cheerfulness. We may safely affirm, that he who has a heart to praise will never lack something to praise for.

The hunters now proposed galloping back to their waggons, and sending some of the "Totties" to help to skin the lion.

"And probably feast on the carcass," laughed Carlton. "So that they can have plenty of flesh, these fellows are not particular as to what it comes from."

"Shall I take you up behind me on my horse?" said Manners to David.

David declined the kindly offer, the state of his ankle being such as would have rendered the ride extremely painful. Besides, he was unwilling to cause inconvenience to one of his preservers. He would rather remain where he was, he said, and watch by the dead lion until the waggons came up.

"I'll just load my gun and leave it with you, then," said Manners; "you might have other unpleasant visitors while left alone here."

"And we'll not forget to send you, by the Totties, something to help your breakfast," added Carlton; "you have plenty to eat, as I see, but the liquor must not be wanting."

In few but fervent words David again thanked his new friends, who did not care to wait to be thanked. Off they rode, blithe and merry, joyful at having slain their lion, and still more delighted at having been the means of saving a gallant lad from a terrible fate.

Once more was David left to himself, and solitude was not unwelcome, for with it he could more freely pour out his heart's deep thanksgiving to God. He could also more quietly form resolutions for the future. He would now plead for the fulfilment of that gracious promise contained in his mother's favourite Psalm,—

"'I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go.'"

David resolved that from that day forth, he would never take any important step in life without praying for heavenly guidance. Nor would he—God's Spirit helping his resolve—ever suffer his own wayward will to draw him from the straight path.

"What is meant by 'I will guide thee with mine eye?'" David reflected on the expression.

It is always well to ponder over such passages until their full meaning becomes clear to our minds.

"I remember," thought young Aspinall, "that when Minnie and I were children together, mother gave an account of our behaviour during his absence to father, who had been on business away from home three days.

"'I've had a little trouble with Davy,' she said ('I' daresay that it was not a 'little'), 'for he does not always mind what is said to him; but as for my little Minnie, a "look" is enough for her. Minnie was so obedient to her mother that she could be guided by "the eye."'

"That must be the meaning of those words in the Psalm, and what a beautiful meaning it is! I have been through life like a wilful, disobedient child, and God has had to draw me back to Himself by means that were rough and painful. I have had shame and loss, pain and danger, and all these trials were needed, not one could have been spared me. It would not have been thus with me if I had obeyed from the first the voice of conscience within. Yes, 'Conscience' applying Scripture must be the 'directing look' of the Lord; and the man who follows it fully and faithfully, he it is whom God 'guides by His eye.'"

The greatest earthly desire David now had was to return to his home and fulfil those wishes of his parents, which had now become his own. Even the recollection of the painful passage in his life in London which had once made him so shrink from going back to Greenside was now insufficient to damp that desire. The thought of treading again the well-known fields, and hearing the dear familiar voices,—climbing the orchard-trees in autumn, and flinging down sweet apples to Eliza, whose good-humoured face would look almost as round and rosy as they,—or sitting by the fire, on winter evenings, telling tales of African life,—how delightful would this be! Then the walk with his father and mother along the green lanes to the church on the hill with Jenny close at his side, or listening to the soft music of Minnie's voice teaching Nelly the evening hymn—all was like a dream of happiness to the poor Wanderer in Africa, too bright to be ever realised!

But how could David get back to England? Doubtless the generous hunters who had already shown so much kindness would take him in safety to some part of the colony where he would at least be in no danger of starvation, or of perishing by attacks of beasts, or Bushmen. But David felt that he had no right to expect anything more from them. The injury to his ankle was so severe that he feared lest it would be long indeed before he could have a chance of working his way home: and though, at the Cape, he might earn something by the labour of his hands, he knew from experience that a tedious time must elapse before he could save enough to pay for a passage to England. In the meantime what might not happen!

David was in a feverish state from heat, thirst, and the pain in his ankle. It is likely, too, that the adventure with the lion had, for the time, shaken his nerves; indeed, to face such a fearful creature alone, and for so long a time, was enough to try the firmest—all these causes together produced a depressing effect upon his spirits. A horrible fear came over him that he should never see his father again, never be able to ask his forgiveness, that he should arrive in England "just too late," and find the farm in the hands of strangers, his family gone, nothing of theirs left but a new tombstone in the churchyard!

David groaned aloud as his feverish fancy presented all this to his mind with the vividness of reality. Oh, that he had wings to fly home! How could he endure to wait for months, perhaps for years, before he could embark for Old England! Could it be wrong to wish, to pray for money, when money could take him to his home? David did pray, and very earnestly, that the way might be opened before him, and that his father might be spared to rejoice in his prodigal's return.