THE LION. 135 



Even when aroused by the calls of hunger, the Lion will not take more trouble than 

 is necessary for the attainment of its end, and if it can strike down an antelope or 

 jaguar with a blow of its paw, will be quite satisfied with its success, and will not 

 trouble itself about such difficult game as a buffalo or a giraffe. 



It is supposed by those who have had much experience of the leonine character, that 

 the terrible " man-eating " Lions owe their propensity for human flesh to the indolence 

 of their character or the infirmity of their frame, and not to their superior activity or 

 courage. Unwilling, or unable, to expend strength and patience in the pursuit of the 

 swift-footed antelope or powerful buffalo, the Lion prowls about the villages, thinking 

 to find an easy prey in the man, woman, or child that may happen to stray from the 

 protecting guardianship of the kraal and its dogs. Unarmed, man is weaker of limb, 

 slower of foot, and less vigilant of senses than any of the wild animals, and therefore 

 is a victim that can be slain without much trouble. 



It is said that the taste for human flesh is often engendered by the thoughtless 

 conduct of the very people who suffer from the "man-eaters." The Kaffirs are apt to 

 leave their slain exposed in the bush, " a prey to dogs and all kinds of birds." 



The Lion who passes near the spot where a dead Kaffir lies, is mightily pleased with 

 the opportunity of obtaining a dinner on such charmingly easy terms ; and being master of 

 the situation, drives away hyenas, jackals, and vultures, until he has satisfied his lordly 

 appetite. Having satiated himself, he retires to rest, and on awaking, repairs again to 

 the site of his banquet in hope of making another such meal. He finds nothing but 

 the fragments of bones, for the jackals and vultures have long ago consumed every 

 morsel of flesh, and the hyenas have eaten the greater part of the bones. From that 

 moment the Lion becomes a man-eater, and is a scourge to the neighborhood. It 

 beseemeth the whole armed population to rise and destroy this pest ; for as long as the 

 man-eater lives he will pay constant visits to the villages, and night after night, or even 

 day after day, so great is his audacity, will he carry off his victims. 



It is worthy of notice, that in all parts of the world where the larger felidae live, 

 certain individuals seem to isolate themselves from their kind by this propensity, and 

 distinguish themselves for their predilection for human flesh. 



As a general rule, the Lion is no open foe. He does not come boldly out on the 

 plain and give chase to his prey, for he is by no means swift of foot, and, as has already 

 been mentioned, has no idea of running into danger without adequate cause. He can 

 make tremendous leaps, and with a single blow from his terrible paw can crush any 

 of the smaller animals. So he creeps towards his intended prey, availing himself of 

 every bush and tree as a cover, always taking care to advance against the wind, so that 

 the pungent feline odor should give no alarm, and when he has arrived within the 

 limits of his spring, leaps on the devoted animal and strikes it to the ground. 



This mode of action gives a clew to the object of the fear-instilling roar which has 

 made the Lion so famous. 



As the Lion obtains his prey by stealth, and depends for nutrition on the success of 

 his hunting, it seems strange that his voice should be of such a nature as to inspire 

 with terror the heart of every animal which hears its reverberating thunders. Yet it 

 will be seen, that the creature could find no aid so useful as that of his voice. 



If the Lion has been prowling about during the evening hours, and has found no 

 prey, he places his mouth close to the earth, and utters a terrific roar, which rolls along 

 the ground on all sides, and frightens every animal which may chance to be crouching 

 near. Not knowing from what direction the fearful sound has come, they leave their 

 lairs, and rush frantically about, distracted with terror and bewildered with the sudden 

 arousing from sleep. In their heedless career, one or two will probably pass within a 

 convenient distance of the lurking foe. 



These nocturnal alarms cause great trouble to those who travel into the interior of 

 Africa. When night draws on, it is the custom to call a halt, and to release the draught 

 oxen from their harness. A kind of camp is then made, a blazing fire is kept alight 

 as a defence against the wild beasts, and the oxen are fastened either to the wagons 

 or to the bushes by which the encampment is made. 



The Lion comes and surveys the mingled mass of oxen, men, and wagons, but fear 



