218 TWO DIANAS IN SOMALI LAND 



breakfast, we hurried out to see what we should 

 see. 



The hunter was right. The blood trail was plain, 

 and held on at intervals for a mile or more, when it 

 led us to a flimsy bit of thorn growing in some rocky 

 cover. Stones and shouts did not serve to eject our 

 visitor of the night before, but we heard his singing 

 snarls. Posting ourselves some hundred yards away, 

 for a wounded leopard is not likely to prove an amiable 

 customer, Clarence made some fire alongside us with 

 another hunter by twirling the fire stick. And as 

 soon as the flame burst from the timber he fostered 

 it with a little durr grass, then using it to ignite a 

 larger torch, ran towards the citadel and threw the 

 blazing thing into the midst. Speedily the flames 

 took hold, burning all before it. 



"Shebel! Shebel ! " 



The leopard stole out from the side of the under- 

 brush, with low crouched shoulders, and made for the 

 open. It limped badly, and lurched as it ran. I 

 wanted to clear the hunters who were dancing about 

 right in the very zone of fire — a lot of good shots are 

 spoiled in this way — so dashed after our prey. Cecily 

 ran round the back of the burning bush, and as she 

 was nearer, the leopard hearing the quick pad-pad 

 after him turned, as a cat does when cornered. With 

 ears flattened against the head and a look of most 

 vicious rage on the snarling face the leopard shot, all 

 wounded as he was, straight at us like an arrow from 

 a bow. He was a most courageous animal, but my 

 cousin dropped him with a well-planted bullet, catching 



