66 
SAVAGE SUDAN 
ment at their intrusion—were speedily dissolved when, 
a few minutes later, one Baggara dropped quickly and 
pointing ahead with his spear, hissed “Assad!” (=Lion). 
Barely 200 yards in front a glorious tawny-maned lion was 
slowly strolling from the riverside reeds towards the forest 
inland, the north wind blowing masses of golden hair over 
his ears. The lion presented a slow-moving shot—not 
difficult, but with room to miss. On his front lay patches 
“ A Row of Brilliant Bee-Eaters ” (Merops pusilla ). 
of thick scrub, and something in his demeanour convinced 
me that he would “lay up” in one or other of these. He 
passed through the first, hesitated in the second, and 
disappeared from view in the third. The spoor, however, 
showed that he had held his course, and I saw him no 
more. The chance was gone. I had selected, as events 
proved, a wrong choice—possibly from undue deliberation, 
though none could tell in advance. Still to have had 
offered, on consecutive mornings, fair chances at both 
leopard and lion, and to have availed neither, must leave 
an unspeakable sense of chagrin deep down in one’s 
breast. None can afford to waste opportunities. 
