116 THE BONDS OF AFRICA 



hungry, he was wholly unable to catch game. 

 Fate enters into the lives of wild animals just as 

 it sways the destinies of mankind; the minor 

 incidents are productive of most momentous 

 results. Had it not been for that evil little 

 thorn, our feline acquaintance would in all 

 probability have been content to remain on an 

 antelope or a zebra diet. As it was, he limped 

 a few miles to a native village one night, and 

 just before dawn he stole a goat. The next 

 night all the goats had been driven into huts, 

 but he seized a native woman early the next 

 morning, and the taste of human blood and 

 flesh appealed strongly to his palate. To-day 

 he is the terror of the Lake Mweru region. His 

 foot has at last healed up, and he is a great, 

 shaggy-maned animal, a confirmed man-eater, 

 daring, cunning and resourceful, for he has 

 never forgotten the delicious taste of his 

 first human meal. 



When the fires have burned down in the 

 villages and his low hunting grunt breaks the 

 silence of the African night many an Awemba 

 moves unsteadily around his hut and seizes his 

 spear in an agony of fear, and he may well be 

 excused, for there is no more terrible foe in the 

 whole wide world than a man-eating lion seeking 

 whom he may devour. 



And now away to another realm of solitude 

 distant several days' journey to the west of the 

 great valley, where the lions roar and the rhino 

 pushes his ponderous way through the thorn 

 belts. I write of the call of the swamps that 

 surround Lakes Bangweolo and Mweru. 



Every different portion of this world has its 



