A LIONESS AT LAST 



It was still dark when, after having left the cameras 

 at the foot of the ridge, we climbed up to the place 

 agreed upon. It was cold, of course, and I was 

 glad enough of my coat, though I knew that in all 

 probability in two hours' time the perspiration would 

 be pouring down my face. 



The sun rose in a cloudless sky. We could see for 

 miles across the veldt, and had we been there for 

 nothing else, it would really have been worth while 

 to have climbed up to get that view. But it was not 

 long before we had something else, something far 

 more urgent, to occupy our thoughts. In the open 

 veldt below us was a horseman, Jones, with the dogs, 

 and he was evidently hot on the spoor of something. 

 Ulyate declared that it must be either a lion or a hyena. 



A few minutes later they were almost at the foot 

 of the ridge, and we had begun to clamber down 

 towards them, after having lit a signal fire to call up 

 the other members of the party. Yet, though we had 

 wasted no time, both horseman and dogs were out of 

 sight by the time we reached the level ground. Then 

 from round a small rock came the reports of a couple 

 of shots, followed a moment later by the fearful roar 

 of a lion, and after that by the barking of dogs. At 

 last we had found what we had been seeking for so 

 long. 



Ulyate had hurried on ahead, but he was soon back 

 with the news. There was a Honess in the bush, with 



167 



