318 
IN AFRICA 
“Simba!” I yelled, pointing to the three lions. 
He seemed not to comprehend, and I saw him 
reluctantly turn from the dogs and fix his glasses 
upon the direction I indicated. In no time he was 
hurrying up to join me, and we hastily formed a 
plan of campaign. The lions had now disappeared 
over the brow of the hill. I looked at my watch 
and the hour was not yet nine o’clock. We were 
still in sight of the distant house-tops of Nairobi. 
It seemed unbelievable. 
We crossed the nullah and the carriage jolted 
down and across a few minutes later. We took our 
seats and studied the plains with our glasses. The 
lions were not in sight. Then we studied the herds 
of game and saw that many of them were looking 
in a certain direction. We drove in that direction 
and whipped up the mules to a lively trot. In a 
few minutes Stephenson picked up the three lions 
far to the left, where they were slowly making their 
way toward another ravine a mile or so beyond. 
Then began one of the strangest lion hunts ever 
recorded in African sporting annals. 
You may have read of the practice of “riding” 
lions. Doctor Rainsford, in his splendid book on 
lion hunting, describes this thrilling sport in such 
vivid words that you shiver as you read them. 
Mounted men gallop after the lion, bring it to bay, 
and then hold it there until the white hunter comes 
up to a close range and shoots it. In the meantime 
the cornered beast is charging savagely at the 
horsemen, who trust to the speed and quickness of 
