THE LION. 135 
necessary for the attainment of its end, and if it can strike down an antelope or jaguar 
with a blow of its paw, will be quite satisfied with its success, and will not trouble itself 
about such difficult game as a buffalo or a giraffe. 
It is supposed by those who have had much experience of the leonine character, that 
the terrible “man-eating” Lions owe their propensity for human flesh to the indolence of 
their character or the ‘infirmity of their frame, and not to their superior activity or 
courage. Unwilling, or unable, to expend strength and patience in the pursuit of the 
swift-footed antelope or powerful buffalo, the Lion prowls about the villages, thinking to 
find an easy prey in the man, woman, or child that may happen to stray from “the 
protecting guardianship of the kraal and its dogs. Unarmed, man is weaker of limb, 
slower of foot, and less vigilant of senses than any of the wild animals, and therefore is a 
vietim that can be slain without much trouble. 
It is said that the taste for human flesh is often engendered by the thoughtless conduct 
of the very people who suffer from the “man-eaters.” The Katffirs are apt to leave their 
slain exposed in the bush, “a prey to dogs and all kinds of birds.” 
The Lion who passes near the spot w vhere a dead Kaffir lies, is mightily pleased with 
the opportunity of obtaining a dinner on such charmingly easy terms ; and being master of 
the situation, drives away hyanas, jackals, and vultures, until he has satisfied his lordly 
appetite. Having satiated himself, he retires to rest, and on awaking, repairs again to the 
site of his banquet in hope of making another such meal. He finds nothing but the 
fragments of bones, for the jackals and “vultures have long ago consumed every “morsel of 
flesh, and the hyenas have eaten the greater part of the bones, From that moment the 
Lion becomes a man-eater, and is a scourge to the neighbourhood. It beseemeth the 
whole armed population to rise and destroy this pest; for as long as the man-eater lives 
he will pay constant visits to the villages, and night after night, or even day after day, so 
great is his audacity, will he carry off his victims. 
It is worthy of notice, that in all parts of the world where the larger felide live, certain 
individuals seem to isolate themselves from their kind by this propensity, and distinguish 
themselves for their predilection for human flesh. 
As a general rule, the Lion is no open foe. He does not come boldly out on the plain 
and give chase to his prey, for he is by no means swift of foot, and, as has already been 
mentioned, has no idea of running into danger without adequate cause. He can make 
tremendous leaps, and with a single blow from his terrible paw can crush any of the 
smaller animals. So he creeps towards his intended prey, availing himself of every bush 
and tree as a cover, always taking care to advance against the wind, so that the pungent 
feline odour should give no alarm, and when he has arrived within the limits of his spring, 
leaps on the devoted animal and strikes it to the ground. 
This mode of action gives a clue to the object of the fear-instilling roar which has made 
the Lion so famous. 
As the Lion obtains his prey by stealth, and depends for nutrition on the success of his 
hunting, it seems strange that his voice should be of such a nature as to inspire with 
terror the heart of every animal which hears its reverberating thunders. Yet it will be 
seen, that the creature could find no aid so useful as that of his voice, 
If the Lion has been prowling about during the evening hours, and has found no prey, he 
places his mouth close to the earth, and utters a terrific roar, which rolls along the ground 
on all sides, and frightens every animal which may chance to be crouching near. Not 
knowing from what “direction the fearful sound has come, they leave their lairs, and rush 
frantically about, distracted with terror and bewildered with the sudden arousing from 
sleep. In their heedless career, one or two will probably pass within a convenient 
distance of the lurking foe. 
These nocturnal alarms cause ereat trouble to those who travel into the interior of Africa. 
When night draws on, it is the “custom to call a halt, and to release the draught oxen 
from their harness. A kind of camp is then made, a blazing fire is kept alight as a 
defence against the wild beasts, and the oxen are fastened either to the waggons or to the 
bushes by which the encampment is made. 
The Lion comes and surveys the mingled mass of oxen, men, and waggons, but fears to 
