XXIV. 

 THE FIFTEEN LIONS. 



TWO days before Captain D. and I were to 

 return to Juja we approached, about 

 eleven o'clock in the morning, a long, low, 

 rugged range of hills called Lucania. They were 

 not very high, but bold with cliffs, buttes, and 

 broken rocky stretches. Here we were to make 

 our final hunt. 



We led our safari up to the level of a boulder 

 flat between two deep canons that ran down 

 from the hills. Here should be water, so we 

 gathered under a lone little tree, and set about 

 directing the simple disposition of our camp. 

 Herbert Spencer brought us a cold lunch, and 

 we sat down to rest and refreshment before 

 tackling the range. 



Hardly had we taken the first mouthfuls, how- 

 ever, when Memba Sasa, gasping for breath, came 

 tearing up the slope from the canon where he 

 had descended for a drink. 



