The Man-Eater 39 



cries, a clamour of voices, which come from the 

 village where the people were dancing. At the 

 moment I rush outside, gun in hand, followed by 

 my men ; a woman in tears throws herself at my feet, 

 wringing her hands and crying that the lion has taken 

 her son. In the obscurity, through which flashes the 

 light of the straw torches carried to and fro by the 

 natives, we run to the village. Upon making in- 

 quiries we find that the lion carried off the poor boy 

 at the very moment when, half-opening the door of 

 a hut, he was passing outside the upper part of his 

 body to get some firewood which had remained on the 

 threshold. Natives are all the same : an accident to 

 one of them is never a lesson to the others. How 

 many times have I not seen blacks bathing at the 

 very spot where a comrade had been carried off by a 

 crocodile a few days before ! It will be understood 

 that after the cries uttered by the villagers the lion 

 had not remained in their midst ; besides, it is im- 

 possible to find any track by the light of the torches. 

 There is nothing to do but to wait. We sit down 

 with the natives near a large fire, deafened by the 

 cries and lamentations of the women. Daylight is 

 not long in appearing. 



I ask the natives not to come in any number ; ten 

 men only will accompany me, keeping the most pro- 

 found silence. As soon as it is light enough to follow 

 a track, we go near the hut where the child was carried 

 off. The trampling of people's feet have effaced all 

 marks ; but, on the little verandah which sur- 

 rounds the hut, one can see the impression of the 



