508 CARNIVORA 
“One of the most striking things connected with the Lion is 
his voice, which is extremely grand and peculiarly striking. It 
consists at times of a low, deep moaning, repeated five or six times, 
ending in faintly audible sighs ; at other times he startles the forest 
with loud, deep-toned, solemn roars, repeated in quick succession, 
each increasing in loudness to the third or fourth, when his voice 
dies away in five or six low muffled sounds very much resembling 
distant thunder. At times, and not unfrequently, a troop may be 
heard roaring in concert, one assuming the lead, and two, three, or 
four more regularly taking up their parts, like persons singing a 
catch. Like our Scottish stags at the rutting season, they roar 
loudest in cold frosty nights; but on no occasions are their voices 
to be heard in such perfection, or so intensely powerful, as when 
two or three troops of strange Lions approach a fountain to drink 
at the same time. When this occurs, every member of each troop 
sounds a bold roar of defiance at the opposite parties; and when 
one roars, all roar together, and each seems to vie with his comrades 
in the intensity and power of his voice. The power and grandeur 
of these nocturnal concerts are inconceivably striking and pleasing to 
the hunter’s ear.” 
“The usual pace of a Lion,” C. J. Andersson? says, “is a walk, 
and, though apparently rather slow, yet, from the great length of 
his body, he is able to get over a good deal of ground in a short 
time. Occasionally he trots, when his speed is not inconsiderable. 
His gallop—or rather succession of bounds—is, for a short distance, 
very fast—nearly or quite equal to that of a horse. Indeed, unless 
the steed has somewhat the start when the beast charges, it will be 
puzzled to escape. Many instances are on record of horsemen who 
have incautiously approached too near to the Lion, prior to firing, 
who have been pulled down by him before they could get out of 
harm’s way. Happily, however, the beast soon tires of the exertion 
of galloping, and unless his first rush succeeds he, for the most part, 
soon halts and beats a retreat.” “The Lion, as with other members 
of the feline family,” the same writer tells us, “seldom attacks his 
prey openly, unless compelled by extreme hunger. For the most part 
he steals upon it in the manner of a cat, or ambushes himself near 
to the water or a pathway frequented by game. At such times he 
lies crouched upon his belly in a thicket until the animal approaches 
sufficiently near, when, with one prodigious bound, he pounces upon 
it. In most cases he is successful, but should his intended victim 
escape, as at times happens, from his having miscalculated the 
distance, he may make a second or even a third bound, which, 
however, usually prove fruitless, or he returns disconcerted to his 
hiding-place, there to wait for another opportunity.” His food con- 
sists of all the larger herbivorous animals of the country in which 
1 The Lion and the Elephant, 1873, p. 19. 
