Sporting Trips of a Subaltern 



a magnificent male leopard, stone dead. One of 

 my bullets had pierced his heart, though why 

 he made no sign or sound I never understood. 

 He was a very old male, with worn but still 

 huge teeth and faded spots. This may partially 

 account for my having taken him for a lion at 

 close quarters; anyway, spots don't show much 

 on a beast standing in grass with sun throwing 

 shadows on him. In size, he was equal to many 

 grown lions. I most unfortunately lost the 

 measurements I took of him on the ground, and, 

 of course, the dressed skin is no guide; but it 

 gives some idea of his size to say that he now 

 measures 9 feet 3 inches from his nose to the 

 tip of his tail. Except for being somewhat dull 

 and not exhibiting such various contrasts of colour 

 as many leopards, his coat was perfect. I am 

 glad to say I managed to dry him successfully, 

 soldered him up in a tin-lined box, and started 

 him off to London, where he duly arrived, after 

 his long journey, without losing a hair. 



Nigeria, with its hot, damp climate and its 

 long spells of rain, was the most difficult country 

 to preserve skins in. Many of mine, despite the 

 utmost care, were spoilt before I could even start 

 them off. Also, the natives were not to be trusted 

 to look to them properly, and it was often my 

 fate to be called upon to dash off suddenly for 

 some expedition, leaving my carefully tended skins 



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