THE GAMBIAN LION. 145 



emergency, and even during sleep should be capable of instantaneous awaking ready for 

 action. So it happened, that although the deep sleep of wearied nature had wrapped 

 the hunter's senses in oblivion, a part of his being remained awake, ready to give the 

 alarm to that portion which slept. Suddenly a sense of danger crept over the sleeper, 

 and he awoke to a feeling that a monotonous rumbling sound, which reverberated in 

 his ears, was in some way connected with imminent peril. A moment's reflection told 

 him that none but a Lion could produce such sounds, and that one of those fearful 

 animals was actually stooping over him, its breath playing on his face. 



Taught by practical experience of the danger of alarming the Lion, the hunter 

 quietly felt for his gun, which was lying ready loaded and cocked in front of him, and 

 raised himself in order to get a glimpse at the foe. Slight as the movement was, it 

 sufficed to alarm the Lion, which uttered a sharp, menacing growl, speaking in a lan- 

 guage well known to the intended victim. Knowing that not a moment could be lost, 

 he pointed his weapon towards an indistinct mass, which loomed darkly through the 

 mists of night, and fired. 



The report of the gun was instantly mingled with the fierce roarings of the infuriated 

 Lion, maddened with the pain of its wound, seeking to wreak its vengeance on its foe, 

 and tearing up the ground in its fury, within a very few paces of the skarm. By degrees 

 the fierce roars subsided into angry growls, and the growls into heavy moans, until the 

 terrible voice was hushed, and silence reigned during the remainder of the night. 



When the dawn broke, the hunter ventured from his place of concealment, and 

 searched for the carcass of the Lion, which he found lying within fifty yards of the 

 spot from whence the fatal shot had been fired. Even in that short space of time the 

 hyenas and jackals had been busy over the body of their departed monarch, and had 

 so torn his skin that it was entirely spoiled for any purpose except that of a memorial 

 of a most fearful night. 



The hero of this adventure was C. J. Andersson, who has recorded his valuable 

 African experiences in his visit to " Lake Ngami." 



The same author relates a curious anecdote of a half-starved, and entirely bewildered 

 Lion, which contrived to get into the church at Richterfeldt. The unfortunate brute 

 was so weakened by fasting, that the Damaras dragged him out of the edifice by his 

 tail and ears, and speared him without trouble. 



In the leonine character is no small craft, which displays itself in various modes. 

 Keen of scent in perceiving the approach of an enemy, the Lion appears to be well 

 aware of the likelihood that his own approach might be manifested by the powerful 

 odor that issues from his body. He therefore keeps well to leeward of the animal 

 which he pursues, and employs the direction of the wind to conceal him from the 

 olfactory senses of his game, and the position of the rocks, trees, or reeds, to hide his 

 approach from their organs of vision. 



A curious property connected with the Lion's tooth is worthy of notice. It has hap- 

 pened that, when a man has been bitten by a Lion, and escaped from its fangs, he has long 

 felt the after-effects of the injury, and this in a singular manner. Although the wound 

 has healed kindly, and to all appearance has left no evil result except the honorable 

 scar, yet that wound has broken out afresh on the anniversary of the time when it was 

 inflicted. There is probably some poisonous influence upon the Lion's tooth by which 

 this effect is produced, for it has been recorded that two men have been attacked by 

 the same Lion, one of whom, who was bitten upon his bare limb, suffered from the 

 annual affliction, while the other, whose limb was protected by his coat, felt no after- 

 inconvenience of a similar nature from the bite of the same animal. 



A similar effect, lasting for several years, has been produced by the bite of a rabid 

 dog, where the poisonous effects of the envenomed tooth were not sufficiently powerful 

 to produce the fearful disease of hydrophobia. In an instance with which I am ac- 

 quainted, the wound continued to re-open annually at least for the space of six years, 

 and possibly for some years longer. The bite of a venomous snake has sometimes 

 been known to produce the same phenomenon. 



The Lion is by no means so fastidious a feeder as is popularly supposed. It is true 

 that he does very much like to strike down a living prey, and lap the hot blood as it 

 wells from the lacerated victim. But he is very well satisfied with any dead animal 

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