THE LION. 
233 
and drinks at his leisure, lapping like a cat, 
with a noise which may be heard at the dis¬ 
tance of a hundred yards, and which is heard 
by the sentinels in the camp, who heap fresh 
fuel on their fire and draw closer together, 
while they listen awe-struck to the low, hol¬ 
low and deep-drawn sighing moans which, 
without being loud, seem to fill the whole 
air. The lion is calling his mate, who finally 
joins him and in her turn lies down to 
drink. There is so much game in the 
neighbourhood that the travellers hope to 
escape without an attack; but the lion is 
savage and capricious, and there is no telling 
what he may do. So they look once more to 
their arms, and wait rather anxiously for 
the result. Presently the air resounds with 
the tremendous roar, and the ground shakes 
with the spring of the lion; and then echoes 
the clatter of innumerable hoofs, as the 
roused and frightened herds fly from their 
deadly foe. The oxen stamp and bellow, 
the horses plunge, strain at their bridles 
and are hardly restrained by the hands and 
voices of their masters from rushing on cer¬ 
tain death. The lion has seized his prey; 
and, unless there be a company of them, 
20* 
