A LION-HUNT 



blood, too, was aroused, for he bounded forward in 

 mighty leaps. The critical moment was approaching. 

 I bent my right knee to the ground so as to steady my- 

 self for the final shot, which might prove my very last 

 one, when suddenly the lion collapsed. Now no time 

 was to be lost. A short, sharp report; the lion rose to 

 leap, but fell back lifeless. I was naturally highly 

 elated over my unexpected success ; my blacks were 

 simply beside themselves with joy. We skinned the 

 mighty, black-maned "king of the desert." When we 

 cut him open we found that his stomach was empty; 

 that accounted for his fierceness and daring. When all 

 was over we were joined by the reinforcements from the 

 camp. It took three men to carry the lion's skin. 



After a march of over two hours we reached our camp. 

 My men had lost the way in the darkness, a thing which 

 happens to a native only a few times in a lifetime. They 

 crowded up to one another in their fear, like sheep, and 

 I had to march at the head of the procession. We were 

 received with open arms by our men in the catnp. The 

 lion's skin was stretched to dry l:)y the camp-fire. 

 Four sentinels guarded the camp that night, for we 

 were apparently encamped in a "lions' plain." The 

 next morning I was rebaptized, as it were, by my 

 native companions. " Bwana Ndege" (Mr. Bird), they 

 used to call me, because I had been known best as a 

 hunter and collector of birds ; now they christened me 

 "Bwana Simba" (Mr. Lion). 



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