152 THE WILDERNESS AND JUNGLE 



Colonel D. F. Lewis, C.B., tells me that 

 he was travelling in the Sudan one night in 

 February, 1903, with a small caravan, con- 

 sisting of twelve donkeys, eight mules, two 

 or three armed Sudanese, and half a dozen 

 transport servants. Suddenly, at about eleven 

 p.m., when the moon was rising over the scene, 

 a lion crossed in front of the caravan, not more 

 than forty yards away, and stood gazing at it. 

 Colonel Lewis halted the caravan, but being 

 unable in the dim light to see the foresight 

 of his carbine, he would not fire for fear ot 

 merely wounding the animal and endangering 

 the life of his followers. The lion, having 

 satisfied its curiosity, walked quietly off into 

 the forest. Yet, after all, this experience does 

 not show the lion to be a greater coward than 

 its Indian cousin, for the average tiger would 

 not have come out of hiding at all until the 

 caravan had passed. Not the most desperate 

 and famished man-eater in the Indian jungle 

 has ever been known to display the same 

 cunning and audacity as the famous lions of 

 Tsavo, one of which actually dragged a sleep- 

 ing man through the window of a railway 

 carriage. Both lions and tigers doubtless 

 differ in courage, and one may be more care- 

 less of danger than another. There are, 

 however, occasions on which even lions seem 

 to recognise man as their master. A sports- 



