80 PEACE: LION HUNTING 



bushman language, so I called out to the older 

 bushman, " Qumano, naharnie." " Uun," said 

 Qumano. " Naharnie tseka," said I. " Uun 

 tseka," said the little bushman. This short inter- 

 lude seemed to cheer up my scared boys and they 

 started chattering again, thinking perhaps that 

 things were not too bad with the white man if he 

 still had a joke in him. 



When we reached the camp I washed the wounds 

 with a cake of carbolic soap — to which proceeding 

 I expect I owe my freedom from blood-poisoning 

 — and bound them up as best I could with pieces 

 of calico. I had received altogether twelve bites, 

 and my hand and arm by this time began to feel 

 as if they had been through a chaff-cutter. The 

 native African, I believe, accounts for the poison- 

 ous nature of most lion wounds by declaring that 

 it is the breath of the lion which is the cause of the 

 trouble, and in order to expel this breath, the 

 injured person must be dosed with some barbarous 

 concoction. I have no doubt that the fit of sick- 

 ness brought on by this treatment may, after all, 

 do good indirectly to the patient. 



On the fourth day I reached my main camp near 

 the Quandoo, my boys having carried me down 

 on a rough stretcher made of saplings. A day or 

 so later Mafoota arrived, and very kindly stayed 

 at my camp, several weeks till I pulled through 

 the worst part. He also had a supply of that 

 indispensable stuff, permanganate of potash. I 

 set the broken wrist and injured arm on a piece of 



