112 THE BONDS OF AFRICA 



win. The world will be the poorer for a true 

 and living relic of the long ago when the hideous 

 old monster is gone. Away in his far-distant 

 stronghold, where the twin ranges dip down into 

 the great valley, and where round many a camp 

 I have eaten the questionable tit-bit of rhinoceros 

 liver, the monster has bid defiance to the outside 

 world. One day, I suppose, tourists from the 

 Transvaal will be sauntering down those slopes 

 where now elephants and rhinos, giant trees and 

 mountain torrents reign supreme. But long may 

 that day be withheld, and long may it be before 

 those who have tired of the mockery of the 

 modern world have no fastness to repair to 

 where they may lead the life of the Stone Age 

 with all its joys of unshackled liberty. 



Here, too, roams the prowling lordly lion. 

 Often I heard his majestic roar reverberate and 

 echo and re-echo from one towering escarpment 

 to another, and then the voice would die away 

 to a great sob, and silence absolute and utter 

 would reign supreme again. Let me try to con- 

 jure up for you some vision of a lion's life story, 

 a brief history of animal omnipotence. Consider 

 then the birth of Baby Leo in this far-away 

 corner of the earth. Consider Mother Lion and 

 her progeny. 



Naturally enough she was very proud of 

 the two little cubs. She licked them, pushed 

 them round and round with her nose and 

 purred over them with maternal satisfaction. 

 Truly they were handsome little animals, and 

 one would scarcely imagine that such soft-looking, 

 lovable creatures could ever grow up to become 

 the terrors of man and beast for many scores of 

 miles round their haunts. Their home was in a 



