80 IN BRIGHTEST AFRICA 
a lion and a lioness—one going to the left and the 
other to the right. They were in the open. The 
lion disappeared over the crest of the first hill. I 
had a theory that he would lie down on the top of 
that crest and watch us. I accordingly left part of 
the men in sight while I, with a few others, approached 
the hill under cover. I finally succeeded in getting 
to a point behind a pile of rocks. Motioning the men 
to stay quiet and keep back, I carefully poked my 
head up and saw the old fellow as he lay looking 
toward me about seventy-five yards away. I drew 
back, and then to my disgust one of my companions 
rose up in full view of the lion, who made off unscathed 
by the hurried shots I fired at him. This lion stayed 
constantly in my mind. 
Three years later I was camped on the Tana River 
with Mrs. Akeley, John McCutcheon, and Fred 
Stephenson. When we decided to march from the 
Tana to the Theba I told the crowd that I was going, 
by the spot where I had lost the big lion three years 
before. I hada “hunch” that he would still be there 
—or perhaps be revisiting the spot as I was. Any- 
way, the feeling was strong enough to make me go. 
Stephenson went off on an independent hunt. The 
others with the safari came with me. We loitered 
along photographing rhinoceroses until we came in 
sight of my spot—the place where the little stream 
emptied into the Theba. I noticed that Stephenson 
was coming toward us and about to cross the little 
stream. I remarked, “Fred is going to drive our 
lions out and never know it.” I then felt a little 
