JAN’S STORY 
45 
afraid will ill compare in English with the rough Veldt Dutch in 
which they related their adventures. Jan Africa, an enormous, 
square-built fellow of forty years, standing six feet two inches in 
his bare feet, possessing a Greek cast of countenance due to his 
origin—a cross between a Jew and Hottentot—prompted by 
Westbeech, while still suffering from several unhealed wounds 
received in the encounter, gave us his famous lion story. As he 
stretched his enormous maimed limbs by the fireside, and 
erected his tall, gaunt frame to its utmost height, a glow over¬ 
spread his fine-looking oriental countenance, causing his olive 
skin to assume a velvety appearance, strongly enhanced by the 
red cloth wound round his head. With closed eyes he 
commenced his tale, slowly weighing his words, till at last the 
recollection of the battle fired his speech, and it came forth in 
sharp sentences, thrilling his hearers into wonderful sympathy. 
‘ One morning I left the skerm where we were stationed, to 
look for game, for we were hungry. I had three good dogs, 
and one bullet in my gun (a muzzle-loader) and two more in 
my pouch. My Bushman went with me. We had not gone 
far when the dogs took up a scent and went rushing off' and 
we followed, running, after them. I expected they were after 
a pig, which they would soon bring to bay, but was much 
startled to hear one of the dogs ahead yelp in death-agony. 
Hurrying on, we came upon the dead dog badly torn, and 
then we heard another dog give a death-yell. Then I grew 
angry for sake of my faithful animals, and, running on, came 
upon the next dog torn and dead as the other one was. Then 
we heard the third dog also give his last yell. When we 
came near the spot where the last dog yelled, we looked 
about, and there lay a grey-throated old lioness with both 
paws across my black dog’s body. She drew her ears back 
when she saw us and looked wicked, but I said to myself: 
“ Jan, you must kill this lion, because she killed your dogs” 
—so I took steady aim and fired. The bullet hit her in front 
of the shoulder, and passed out behind on the other flank—a 
cross shot. She sprang away from the dog into a thicket 
