Somali 



lashing vigorously. I had another shot at what 

 looked like lion, and Eustace also gave him one 

 more, always reloading the right barrel and keep- 

 ing the other ready for a counter attack. A crash, 

 and he was out the far side of the bush. We 

 dashed round, and as we ran, heard a horseman 

 galloping up, singing the death song they always 

 break into when a dangerous beast is killed. 

 There lay the lion stone dead, with a bullet hole 

 in his chest raking him. He measured 10 feet 

 5 inches from his nose to the tip of his tail, and 

 was the biggest we shot. Leaving Eustace and 

 his men to skin him there was no time to waste 

 as it was nearly dark I hurried on to another 

 bush where another lion was at bay. He wouldn't 

 show himself, and though I fired a shot in, there 

 was no response but deep, rumbling growls. I 

 accordingly, holding my rifle ready and a box of 

 matches too, walked right up to the bush to try 

 and burn him out. One of my hunters, whom 

 I always called Spots for reasons subsequently 

 related, betrayed great concern at my near ap- 

 proach to the bush, and just as I had reached it, 

 actually seized my arm and tried to pull me back. 

 As I didn't myself think my position as safe as 

 might be, I allowed him to do so, and, taking me 

 some fifteen yards from the bush, he told me to 

 wait there, and himself took the matches. I 

 imagined he had some device for lighting the 



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