In Wildest Africa ^ 



I had a most interesting adventure, once, with a lion 

 on the right bank of the Rufu River. 



For several nights the continuous roaring of a lion 

 had been heard in the immediate vicinity of my camp. 

 In spite of all my attempts to get a sight of the beast 

 by day I could not even find the slightest trace of it. 

 Moreover, the vegetation in the neighbourhood of the 

 river was not at all suitable for a lion-hunt. I decided to 

 try my luck with a trap. A very decrepit old donkey 

 was used as a bait, and killed by the lion the very first 

 night. But to my disappointment the powerful beast of 

 prey had evidendy killed the ass with one blow, and with 

 incredible strength had succeeded in dragging it off into 

 the thicket without as much as touching the trap. Very 

 early the next morning I found the tracks, which were 

 clearly imprinted on the ground. Breathlessly I followed 

 up the trail step by step in the midst of thick growth 

 which only allowed me to see a few paces around me. I 

 crept noiselessly forward, followed by my gun-bearer, 

 knowing that in all probability I should come upon 

 the lion. 



The trail turned sharply to the left through some thick 

 bushes. Now we came to a spot where the thief had 

 evidently rested with his spoil ; then the tracks led sharply 

 to the right and went straight forward without a pause. 



We had been creeping forward on the sunlit sand like 

 stealthy cats, with every nerve and muscle taut, my people 

 close behind me, I with my rifle raised and ready to fire — 

 when, suddenly, with a weird sort of growl it leapt up 

 right in front of us and was over the hard sand and away. 



498 



