NIGHT SHOOTING. 
157 
my gun. The gloominess of my solitude was in¬ 
creased by the occasional “ Qua-qua !” of the night 
heron, which made the succeeding hush more dreary, 
during which even the falling of leaves and the rustl¬ 
ing of insects among dry grass were hailed as a relief 
to the oppressive silence. To a man in a savage 
wilderness, and without a companion, silence, espe¬ 
cially when combined with utter privation of light, 
is inexpressibly solemn. It strikes the mind not 
merely as a negation, but as a threatening presence. 
It seems ominous. I shall never forget the loneli¬ 
ness and sense of desolation I felt on this occasion. 
It was past midnight, and still no game appeared. 
Suddenly, I fancied I heard the purr and breathing 
of an animal close behind me; but, as no other 
indications of any living thing ensued, I attributed 
the sounds to a heated imagination. All at once, 
however, the dismal stillness was disturbed by the 
quick steps of a troop of pallahs, descending the 
stony slope leading direct to my ambush. Stooping 
as low as possible, in order to catch their outline, I 
awaited their arrival with my gun on full cock. 
Hearer and nearer they came, till at last I fancied 
the leader was on the verge of the pit-fall; but, just 
at that moment, there was a low, stifled growl, a 
rush, and then a faint cry as of some dying animal. 
All was again silent. Though the impenetrable 
darkness prevented me from seeing anything, I 
could no longer doubt that I was in the immediate 
vicinity of a lion. I freely acknowledge that I felt 
awed, well knowing that were he to attack me I 
should be completely at his mercy. My situation 
