THE FIRST LION 



eyes flashing anger, the small black-tipped ears laid 

 back, the great fangs snarling. The beast was not over 

 twelve feet distant. F. immediately fired. His shot, 

 hitting an intervening twig, went wild. With the ut- 

 most coolness he immediately pulled the other trigger 

 of his double barrel. The cartridge snapped. 



"If you will kindly stoop down " said I, in 



what I now remember to be rather an exaggeratedly 

 polite tone. As F.'s head disappeared, I placed the 

 little gold bead of my 405 Winchester where I 

 thought it would do the most good, and pulled trig- 

 ger. She rolled over dead. 



The whole affair had begun and finished with un- 

 believable swiftness. From the growl to the fatal 

 shot I don't suppose four seconds elapsed, for our 

 various actions had followed one another with the 

 speed of the instinctive. The lioness had growled 

 at our approach, had raised her head to charge, and 

 had received her deathblow before she had released 

 her muscles in the spring. There had been no time 

 to get frightened. 



We sat back for a second. A brown hand reached 

 over my shoulder. 



"Mizouri mizouri sana!" cried Memba Sasa 

 joyously. I shook the hand. 



"Good business!" said F. "Congratulate you on 

 your first lion." 



119 



