78 THE LAND OF THE LION 



my saddle bags, and hobbled in, getting through the few 

 yards that separated me from the centre as quickly as I 

 could. Mombo the Kikuyu gunbearer had been pulled 

 down a good fellow, brave to recklessness, very unlike 

 Kikuyu generally, but who had had no experience of lions 

 in cover 



Momba had come on the lion near the river bank. 

 He was on the extreme right of our line of beaters. The 

 wounded beast was nearly done. When Mombo stumbled 

 on him he could scarcely raise himself out of his lair 

 one shot would have finished him. But Momba, like almost 

 all black men, could hit nothing with the rifle, and at a few 

 feet's distance missed him two or three times. The men 

 near him who had guns did the same. One good shot 

 would have been enough, but none came, and slowly it 

 seemed the great beast closed on him. All he could do 

 was to throw himself backward into the brush, and that 

 was so thick it doubtless saved his life. The lion grabbed 

 him by the left arm, and somehow took at the same time 

 the stock of his rifle in his mouth. The lower teeth bit 

 into the tough wood and this somewhat saved the arm. 

 The lion tried to draw the man toward and under him, but 

 the stout brush held the poor fellow, and saved him also from 

 the deadly claw, worse than tooth wounds, for they soon bring 

 gangrene. The lion let his first hold go, taking a second 

 to draw him down, but he was wounded to death and the 

 brush was thick and tough. Then he let the man go, and 

 turning back struck the line in the middle, where the hunter 

 and J. J. W.'s gunbearer stood. Both these shot at him with 

 .350 rifles two or three times each, and he sank down dead 

 with two bullets in the chest. The bullets were in all like- 

 lihood fired by the hunter, for, though Noor, J. J. W.'s 

 Somali, is a steady man, and never for a moment flinched, 

 he is, like most Somalis, a very indifferent shot. 



When the great beast was down everyone cheered, for 



