76 PEACE: LION HUNTING 



think, if he had taken more time over it. Then 

 came several bites above the wrist and a big bite 

 cracking the bone of the forearm below the elbow. 

 My biceps caught the next bite, which cut clean 

 to the bone, the muscle opening out like a cut in 

 a leg of mutton. A bite through a muscle on the 

 shoulder followed. As weakness made me lower 

 the rifle, the Hon, with a quick shuffle of his fore- 

 feet, closed up with me, whipping down his big 

 head and biting me twice on the chest. These 

 bites too, though not very bad, hurt badly, and 

 the sight of his big, hairy head, so near that we 

 almost rubbed noses, was unlovely and offensive. 

 Suddenly, after biting me on the chest, he whipped 

 round and cleared out of sight back in the bushes. 

 I should like to describe him as staggering away 

 to die, but as a matter of strict truth he appeared 

 to make off fairly briskly. Why he left me in 

 this abrupt and unexpected way I do not know. 

 I have at least no grudge against my adversary, 

 for had he not behaved in true British fashion ? 

 Bailed up, he had reserved his strength for a final 

 grim charge, and, having overthrown his attacker, 

 he retired still undefeated. My old helmet, much 

 patched with grass, and four Mannlicher cartridges 

 somewhere in the sand, remained on the field of 

 battle as tokens of his victory. Nowadays, when 

 modern rifles are so excellent, it would be ill to 

 grudge a wild animal an occasional victory, no 

 matter how unpleasant that victory may 

 personally be to the defeated person. As in 



