214 
IN AFRICA 
ahead of the beaters and not reveal himself until he 
is driven to the end of the cover. Then he will grunt 
warningly or show an ear or a lashing tail above the 
reeds, and instantly every one is in a state of in¬ 
tense expectancy. What the next move will be no 
one knows, but it is more than likely to be something 
of a supremely dramatic sort. 
One day we were beating swamps on the Guas 
Ngishu Plateau. Lions seemed to be numerous in 
that district. Two days before I had killed two 
lions near by, and during the morning Stephenson 
and I had each killed a lioness in the same line of 
marshy reed beds. We now intended advancing to 
the next large swamp of the chain and see whether 
a large, black-maned lion might not be routed out. 
Conditions seemed propitious, for in this self¬ 
same swamp Colonel Roosevelt had seen the best 
lion of his trip some weeks before. Perhaps the lion 
might still be there. 
The campaign was planned with great thorough¬ 
ness. Forty or fifty porters were formed into the 
customary skirmish line and on each side we paral¬ 
leled the beaters with our rifles. At the word of 
command the column began to advance and the in¬ 
terest reached a fever heat. The swamp was five or 
six hundred yards long, and for the first three hun¬ 
dred yards nothing of a thrilling sort occurred. 
The shouts of the beaters blended into a rhythmic, 
melodious chant and the swish of their sticks as 
they thrashed the reeds was enough to make even 
the king of beasts apprehensive. 
