THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS 



fast. I had just enough time to steady the gold 

 bead on her chest and to pull trigger. 



At the shot, to my great relief, she turned bottom 

 up, and I saw her tail for an instant above the grass 

 — an almost sure indication of a bad hit. She 

 thrashed around, and made a tremendous hullabaloo 

 of snarls and growls. I backed out slowly, my rifle 

 ready. It was no place for me, for the grass v/as 

 over knee high. 



Once at a safe distance I blazed a tree with my 

 hunting knife and departed for camp, well pleased to 

 be out of it. At camp I ate lunch and had a smoke; 

 then with Memba Sasa and Mavrouki returned to 

 the scene of trouble. I had now the 405 Winchester, 

 a light and handy weapon delivering a tremendous 

 blow. 



We found the place readily enough. My lioness 

 had recovered from the first shock and had gone. I 

 was very glad I had gone first. 



The trail was not very plain, but it could be fol- 

 lowed a foot or so at a time, with many faults and 

 casts back. I walked a yard to one side while the 

 men followed the spoor. Owing to the abundance of 

 cover it was very nervous work, for the beast might 

 be almost anywhere, and would certainly charge. 

 We tried to keep a neutral zone around ourselves by 

 tossing stones ahead of and on both sides of our line 



152 



