WITH FLASH-LIGHT AND RIFLE 



three lions which might have easily proved fatal to me. 

 My caravan had reached the foot of a mountain after a 

 march of ten hours over the dry steppe. My men, tired 

 and thirsty, had pitched the camp. I left the camp to 

 explore the neighborhood armed only with a shot-gun. 

 I went along a small brook, down-stream, for about three 

 thousand feet when I suddenly noticed tracks of lions. 

 Involuntarily, I followed them and was just about to 

 descend into the dried-up bed of a periodic stream — it 

 was then the height of the dry season — when I saw, on 

 my left, a lioness not more than eighty feet away from 

 where I stood. The same moment I observed two other 

 lions moving along partly hidden in the grass. 



I stood still as if rooted to the ground. I was entirely 

 at the mercy of the animals, for my shot-gun was of no 

 use to me in this emergency. The situation was more 

 than critical; it was desperate. For a few seconds — 

 they seemed eternity to me — man and fehnes eyed one 

 another. The Honess advanced to the edge of the steep 

 bank, looked at me a moment, faced about, and trotted 

 towards the thicket followed by the other lions. I 

 dared not move until the animals had disappeared from 

 my sight, then with a mighty sigh of rehef I started on 

 my retreat to the camp. I returned with my rifle, ac- 

 companied by some natives, but we could not trace the 

 lions. I placed, however, some traps where I had seen 

 them first, fastening an ass, as bait, to a near-by tree. 

 Next morning I found one of the traps gone. It had 



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