82 After Big Game in Central Africa 



would make would be to throw himself forward.) My 

 men immediately explore the surroundings by climb- 

 ing trees ; but, seeing nothing, we follow the track, 

 where there is at first only a little, then a good deal, 

 of blood. I hesitate very much in entering this dense 

 vegetation. Suddenly, twenty-five yards farther on, 

 Kambombe cries to us from the top of a tree : " There 

 he is ! ... He is dying. Draw near quietly. . . . He is 

 looking that way " indicating our direction. I con- 

 fess that I would rather be elsewhere than in the tall 

 grass in gloomy weather by the side of a dying lion. 

 I know that powerful roaring, having heard it once 

 before near Tete, and it was only by a miracle that I 

 escaped out of that ugly business. 1 So it is with 

 infinite precautions, eyes wide open and ears on the 

 stretch, that I advance. ... At one time the grass 

 is no higher than a man, and I witness a few yards 

 away a scene I shall never forget. The lion is sitting 

 with his back to me, his head lowered. Losing his 

 balance, he raises himself up painfully, and again falls 

 with a harsh cry of anger, rage, or suffering, which 

 swells out his large flanks when he is renewing his 

 efforts. ... I do not contemplate him long ; what I 

 describe here is a rapid vision which I have while 

 carefully aiming at his neck. ... I press the trigger, 

 and without taking my rifle from my shoulder con- 

 tinue to aim, keeping the second shot in case of a 

 charge. . . . But the first put him out of his misery. 2 



1 See Mes Grandes Chasses, pp. 300, 301, 302, and 303. 



2 The accompanying photograph, " Looking for a wounded lion in 

 the bush," was taken by M. de Borely amid similar circumstances a 



