TANGANYIKA LIONS 261 



to Tanganyika that we had what we now term our 

 "Great Lion Adventure." Probably in our hearts 

 we, too, thought of Hons as cruel prowlers of the 

 jungle. Nightly we heard them roar about our camps 

 between the waterholes. Time after time we came 

 on gruesome evidence of their handiwork in dead 

 half -eat en giraffes and zebras. Fleeting glimpse 

 of their tawny bodies in grassy dongas often made us 

 grip our rifles tighter. 



Several times we had a taste of the lion's ferocity 

 when disturbed. 



One time, Osa, my wife, and I were out on the sun- 

 baked veldt travelling with otir native gim-bearers 

 and with porters carrying our motion picture cameras. 

 We were not particularly looking for lions, although 

 we knew we were in lion country. 



We had passed countless tracks of game, criss- 

 crossing over our route; but there was a curious 

 absence of actual animal life which was significant. 



I suddenly began to pick up bits of low con- 

 versation from the natives with us. They were 

 speaking of the dreaded simba (which is the native 

 word for lion) . Just then , as if fate chose to endorse 

 their apprehensions, there appeared right ahead of 

 us on the rough floor of the desert the brownish 

 shape of a huge crouching lion. 



The lion's tail was switching about like a flag in 

 the hands of a railway guard — his warning signal. 



