THE GAMBIAN LION. 145 
action. So it happened, that although the deep sleep of wearied nature had wrapped the 
hunter’s senses in oblivion, a part of his being remained awake, ready to give the alarm 
to that portion which slept. Suddenly a sense of danger crept over the sleeper, and he 
awoke to a feeling that a monotonous rumbling sound, which reverberated in his ears, was 
in some way connected with imminent peril. A moment’s reflection told him that none 
but a Lion could produce such sounds, and that one of those fearful animals was actually 
stooping over him, its breath playing on his face. 
Taught by practical experience of the danger of alarming the Lion, the hunter quietly 
felt for his gun, which was lying ready loaded and cocked in front of him, and raised 
himself in order to get a glimpse at the foe. Sheht as the movement was, it sufficed to 
alarm the lon, whic h uttered a sharp, menacing growl, speaking in a language well known 
to the intended victim. Knowing that not a moment could be lost, he pointed his weapon 
towards an indistinct mass, whic h loomed darkly through the mists of night, and fired. 
The report of the gun was instantly mingled with the fierce roarings of the infuriated 
Lion, maddened w ith the pain of its wound, seeking to wreak its vengeance on its foe, 
and tearing up the ground in its fury, within a very few paces of the skirm. By degrees 
the fierce roars subsided into anery growls, and the growls into heavy moans, until the 
terrible voice was hushed, and silence reigned during the remainder of the night. 
When the dawn broke, the hunter ventured from his place of concealment, and 
searched for the carcass of the Lion, which he found lying within fifty yards of the spot 
from whence the fatal shot had been fired. Even in that short space of time the hyzenas 
and jackals had been busy over the body of their departed monarch, and had so torn his 
skin that it was entirely spoiled for any purpose except that of a memorial of a most fearful 
night. 
The hero of this adventure was C. J. Andersson, who has recorded his valuable 
African experiences in his visit to “ Lake Neami.” 
The same author relates a curious anecdote of a half-starved, and entirely bewildered 
Lion, which contrived to get into the church at Richterfeldt. The unfortunate brute was 
so weakened by fasting, that the Damaras dragged him out of the edifice by his tail and 
ears, and speared him without trouble. 
In the leonine character is no small craft, which displays itself in various modes. 
Keen of scent in perceiving the approach of an enemy, the Lion appears to be well aware 
of the likelihood that his own approach might be manifested by the powerful odour that 
issues from his body. He therefore keeps well to leeward of the animal which he pursues, 
and employs the direction of the wind to conceal him from the olfactory senses of his 
game, and the position of the rocks, trees, or reeds, to hide his approach from their organs 
of vision. 
A curious property connected with the Lion’s tooth is worthy of notice. It has 
happened that, when a man has been bitten by a Lion, and escaped from its fangs, he has 
long felt the after effects of the injury, and ‘this in a sinewlar manner. Although the 
wound has healed kindly, and to all appearance has left no evil result except the 
honourable sear, yet that wound has broken out afresh on the anniversary of the time 
when it was inflicted. There is probably some poisonous influence upon the Lion’s tooth 
by which this effect is produced, for it has been recorded that two men have been attacked 
by the same Lion, one of whom, who was bitten upon his bare limb, suffered from the 
annual affliction, while the other, whose limb was protected by his coat, felt no after 
inconvenience of a similar nature from the bite of the same animal. 
A similar effect, lasting for several years, has been produced by the bite of a rabid 
dog, where the poisonous effects of the envenomed tooth were not sufficiently powerful to 
produce the fearful disease of hydrophobia. In an instance with which I am acquainted, 
the wound continued to re-open annually at least for the space of six years, and possibly 
for some years longer. The bite of a venomous snake has sometimes been known to 
produce the same phenomenon. 
The Lion is by no means so fastidious a feeder as is popularly supposed. It is true that 
he does very much like to strike down a living prey, and lap the hot blood as it wells from 
the lacerated victim. But he is very well satisfied with any dead animal that he may chance 
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