He lay for some moments wondering what had awakened him, perfectly still, and listening intently for steps or the trampling of horses, feeling sure that the Boers were close at hand.
Instinctively his hand was reached out to grasp the rifle, which he had laid by his side and covered from the dew or hoar frost, whichever might come, by throwing over it part of his blanket.
As he touched it the cold perspiration began to start from every pore, for there was a whiff of hot breath upon his face, and he could dimly see that some large animal was stretching down its muzzle towards him, and for a few brief moments he lay as if paralysed, expecting to feel himself seized and dragged away, for now came back with keen clearness the recollection of having heard the distant roaring of a lion.
He had hardly grasped this when once more, from somewhere near, the lion's terrifying cry arose, evidently, as he thought in a flash, one of the companions of the huge beast at his side.

In an instant now he had grasped the truth, for as the distant lion roared there came from his right the peculiar stumbling movement of one of the hobbled horses striving to get closer to where there would be human companionship, if not protection.

"Poor beast!" thought West, as his fascinated eyes stared at the dim shape above him, so close that it shut out from him the light of the stars.
Then the half-paralysed listener saw clearly, for the beast raised its head and uttered a low whinnying cry, which was answered from the direction where the other hobbled pony was moving.
"Woho, my boy!" whispered West, with the blood now tingling through his veins, and as the pony whinnied softly again West raised himself up with his rifle in his right hand and stretched out his left for it to come in contact with the soft warm muzzle of his pony, which pressed against it, the poor brute uttering a low sigh.

Quite a minute then passed, the two ponies remaining motionless, and West listening with every nerve on the strain, knowing as he did that a lion must be in very close proximity, and fully expecting every moment that there might be a tremendous bound and the savage brute would alight either upon him or upon one of the poor shivering beasts.
Then, from evidently pretty close at hand, there was a low muttering growl, the barrel of West's rifle fell into his left hand as he held the weapon pistol-wise and fired low down in the direction of the sounds.
At the flash and in company with the report there was a yelping snarl and a couple of angry roars in quick succession.
West fired again as nearly as he could judge where the beast would be, and the next moment Ingleborough was kneeling by his side.
"What is it--lions ?" he panted.
"Yes," whispered West, whose fingers were busy re-loading, and he listened for the next sound, but only to hear a deep sighing breath on either side, telling that the horses had been too much terrified to start away, or else felt that they would be safer with their masters, and that to try to gallop off meant the springing of a savage enemy upon their backs.
The silence continued for nearly a minute, and then there was a vicious snarling, apparently some fifty yards away, while without a moment's hesitation Ingleborough raised his rifle to his shoulder and fired as nearly as he could judge at the spot from whence the noise came.

He fired twice, the shots being so close together as almost to be like one for a while.