68 THE LION KILLER. 



encountered troops both of lions and brigands, yet, for- 

 tunately, by the aid of God and Saint Hubert, I had always 

 come out of the contest in safety. 



Experience had taught me that two balls will rarely kill an 

 old lion ; and every time that I entered the field, I remem- 

 bered in spite of myself, the past nights that I had found too 

 long, either because the fever made my hand tremble when I 

 had most need of its being steady, or because of an inoppor- 

 tune storm that shut out the objects around me for continuous 

 hours. And I thought of moments when the roar of the 

 lion had answered to the rolling of the thunder, so near to 

 me, that I felt as if each flash of lightning was a blessing, and 

 that if it would only continue, I would willingly repay the 

 favor with the half of my blood. 



And yet I cherished this loneliness from veriest love, and I 

 sought it as a means of abasing the pride of the Arabs, who 

 prostrated themselves before me — the Frenchman, not so 

 much for the services gratuitously rendered at the risk of 

 his life, but because he accomplished alone what they dare 

 not do with their whole tribe. 



Every lion that fell before my gun, and whose death I 

 announced to the attending valleys by my signal fires, was a 

 subject of astonishment, and they never comprehended how 

 a stranger dare pass the night in a mountain-pass, that they 

 avoided even in the day. 



The Arabs are brave in war, and fearless in every position, 

 except when placed before their master, who draws his 

 strength, as they say, from God ; therefore the hunter is not 

 obliged to awake the douars of the mountain with a distant 



