76 
AFRICAN GAME TRAILS 
and stood up, evidently very sick, and once more faced 
me, growling hoarsely. I think he was on the eve of charg¬ 
ing. I fired again at once, and this bullet broke his back 
just behind the shoulders; and with the next I killed him 
outright, after we had gathered round him. 
These were two good-sized maneless lions; and very 
proud of them I was. I think Sir Alfred was at least as 
proud, especially because we had performed the feat alone, 
without any professional hunters being present. ‘‘We 
were all amateurs, only gentleman riders up,’’ said Sir 
Alfred. It was late before we got the lions skinned. Then 
we set off toward the ranch, two porters carrying each lion 
skin, strapped to a pole; and two others carrying the cub 
skins. Night fell long before we were near the ranch; but 
the brilliant tropic moon lighted the trail. The stalwart 
savages who carried the bloody lion skins swung along at 
a faster walk as the sun went down and the moon rose 
higher; and they began to chant in unison, one uttering a 
single word or sentence, and the others joining in a deep- 
toned, musical chorus. The men on a safari, and indeed 
African natives generally, are always excited over the death 
of a lion, and the hunting tribes then chant their rough 
hunting songs, or victory songs, until the monotonous, 
rhythmical repetitions make them grow almost frenzied. 
The ride home through the moonlight, the vast barren land¬ 
scape shining like silver on either hand, was one to be re¬ 
membered; and above all, the sight of our trophies and of 
their wild bearers. 
Three days later we had another successful lion hunt. 
Our camp was pitched at a waterhole in a little stream 
called Potha, by a hill of the same name. Pease, Medlicott, 
