214 IN AFRICA 



ahead of the beaters and not reveal himself until he 

 is driven to the end of the cover. Then he will grunt 

 warningly or show an ear or a lashing tail above the 

 reeds, and instantly every one is in a state of in- 

 tense expectancy. What the next move will be no 

 one knows, but it is more than likely to be something 

 of a supremely dramatic sort. 



One day we were beating swamps on the Guas 

 Ngishu Plateau. Lions seemed to be numerous in 

 that district. Two days before I had killed two 

 lions near by, and during the morning Stephenson 

 and I had each killed a lioness in the same line of 

 marshy reed beds. We now intended advancing to 

 the next large swamp of the chain and see whether 

 a large, black-maned lion might not be routed out. 



Conditions seemed propitious, for in this self- 

 same swamp Colonel Roosevelt had seen the best 

 lion of his trip some weeks before. Perhaps the lion 

 might still be there. 



The campaign was planned with great thorough- 

 ness. Forty or fifty porters were formed into the 

 customary skirmish line and on each side we paral- 

 leled the beaters with our rifles. At the word of 

 command the column began to advance and the in- 

 terest reached a fever heat. The swamp was five or 

 six hundred yards long, and for the first three hun- 

 dred yards nothing of a thrilling sort occurred. 

 The shouts of the beaters blended into a rhythmic, 

 melodious chant and the swish of their sticks as 

 they thrashed the reeds was enough to make even 

 the king of beasts apprehensive. 



