210 THE LION KILLER. 



to be only a jackal, one of the band who had been feasting 

 the livelong night at my expense without any invitation, and 

 had now paid with his life for his unpardonable curiosity, in 

 poking his nose into my house to see my manner of living 

 when out in the mountains. 



The remainder of the night passed quietly away, and when 

 the mountain loomed out of the shadows of night, my horse 

 was still there, but the lion had not appeared. 



On the next evening I came to my post, where I found, 

 instead of my horse, only his skeleton, which was as cleanly 

 dissected as though it had come from a cabinet of anatomy. 

 It needed only a glance at the earth marked with the feet, 

 and strew r n with the feathers of vultures, to tell me who were 

 the surgeons that had performed this dainty task. 



I needed now another bait. While waiting a change for 

 the worse in the health of the horses of our squadron, I 

 thought I would try a kid, in imitation of Chackar. 



The poor little thing cried as loud as it could while the 

 daylight lasted, but when darkness had fallen, and until the 

 next morning, it maintained a desperate silence. On the 

 morrow the kid was there to pay me for my trouble, but 

 with that exception I was no better off than I had been with 

 my last attempt. During my last night I had not been 

 altogether free from the importunities of the jackals although 

 they did not eat my bait. These troublesome fellows, in 

 spite of the lesson I had given them on the previous day, 

 came scratching at my door, and snuffing between the logs on 

 my roof. Some of them were so indiscreet as to put their 

 noses up to my windows, when I puffed tobacco smoke in 



