70 THE LAND OF THE LION 
When I got to the place in the morning, I found it far 
more formidable even than I should have fancied from 
the account given me. The long grass in which they had 
left the lion was bad enough, but it could be searched. 
It was safety and simplicity itself, however, when com- 
pared with the riverside jungle into which the lion had 
crawled afterward. This was almost impenetrable. On 
the right hand side, the deep river ran with steep-cut banks 
so high that no wounded lion could cross it anywhere. 
From the bank there extended a belt of cover, shaded by 
large trees, where vines, reeds, and a hundred thorny leafy 
plants were matted together. Here were pools of water 
and deep black hollows, and over all was spread even at 
midday the dark shade of the trees. Sometimes the sun- 
light broke in. Usually it was so dark that it was impos- 
sible to see anything at even a few yards’ distance. 
Nothing would have induced me to allow, so long as I 
could prevent it, any one to enter such a place, had I not 
had the most positive assurances from J. J. W.’s hunter 
that he knew where his bullets were placed, and that 
without any doubt whatever the lion was dead by now. 
He had emptied his repeating .350 Mauser at the lion, and 
had at least one steady standing shot (the distance measured 
afterward was only 120 yards), so presumably he should 
have known what he was talking about. Vultures now 
rose from the darkest of the thicket, and sat expectant on 
the tree limbs overhead. Everything looked like a dead 
lion. So we went in. We formed the beaters up in line, 
only a few feet apart, with a gunbearer or askari carrying 
rifle or double barrel gun here and there to give the men 
heart, and slowly, foot by foot, began our advance into the 
semi-darkness. (There were twelve rifles and double 
barrels in all.) 
My knee made it impossible for me to enter the thickest 
of the jungle, so I had to content myself with the left of 
