THE LAST FRONTIER 



heavily, the sweat running off his face in splashes. 

 "Simba!"* said he, and immediately set off on a 

 long, easy lope ahead of us. We pulled down to a 

 trot and followed him. 



At the end of a half mile we made out a man up a 

 tree. Fundi, out of breath, stopped short and 

 pointed to this man. The latter, as soon as he had 

 seen us, commenced to scramble down. We spurred 

 forward to find out where the lions had been last 

 seen. 



Then Billy covered herself with glory by seeing 

 them first. She apprised us of that fact with some 

 excitement. We saw the long, yellow bodies of two 

 of them disappearing in the edge of the brush about 

 three hundred yards away. With a wild whoop we 

 tore after them at a dead run. 



Then began a wild ride. Do you remember Billy's 

 remark about the nature of the footing? Before 

 long we closed in near enough to catch occasional 

 glimpses of the beasts, bounding easily along. At 

 that moment B.'s horse went down in a heap. None 

 of us thought for a moment of pulling up. I looked 

 back to see B. getting up again, and thought I 

 caught fragments of encouraging-sounding language. 

 Then my horse went down. I managed to hold my 

 rifle clear, and to cling to the reins. Did you ever 



"Lion 



182 



