
In the firelight glow 
An Adventure With a Lioness in 
Somaliland 
DEAR FOREST AND STREAM: 
I? is strange how a casual remark 
will at times lead to the most thrill- 
ing account of some adventure or hair- 
breadth escape. This is what happened 
one night during the South African 
War. We were gathered round a camp 
fire, as the nights in the Transvaal 
winter are bitterly cold, when someone 
remarked that the country, we were in, 
was at one time famous for its lions. 
This created a discussion as to the best 
lion country in Africa, and a man, who 
we knew had shot big game in most 
quarters of the Globe, remarked that 
he did not think you could beat Somali- 
land, and volunteered the account of the 
narrowest shave he had had when out 
after lion there. Few of us knew any- 
thing about that out of the way corner 
of the great continent, so before he be- 
gan we asked him how you got there. 
The best way, he said, was by Egypt, 
and then down the Red Sea in a coast- 
ing steamer. An unpleasant trip, ow- 
ing to the heat and the number of na- 
tives who crowded onto the steamer, 
but well worth the discomfort when you 
got there, for it is a fine country for 
big game. 
Page 37 
The part I was hunting in, he said, 
is scrubby and sandy, interspersed with 
big upstanding rocks. It was very hot, 
and I was getting a bit fagged, as we 
had been out since early morning track- 
ing the spoor of some lions, and it was 
now about noon. Suddenly the native 
hunter, who was doing the tracking, 
stopped dead, and pointing at a patch 
of scrub, whispered: “Lions.” The 
glare was so strong, and the coloring 
of the lions blended so well with the 
yellow light shining through the bare 
scrub with its yellow sand backgound 
that at first I entirely failed to pick 
out their whereabouts. It was not un- 
til a movement caught my eye that I 
made out a big lioness standing within 
shot just on the edge of the bush. My 
hunter excitedly whispered to me to 
shoot, as he could see a lion and an- 
other lioness slinking off behind the 
patch of scrub. The lioness in front 
was standing watching us, apparently 
not a bit disturbed by our presence, 
though any moment she might be off. 
The shimmering heat waves made it 
most difficult to take a sure sight on 
her, and although I was using my fa- 
vorite Mannlicher,I felt most uncertain 
of a killing shot. What decided me 
was an exclamation from the hunter 
that the lioness was moving. I hur- 
riedly pressed the trigger, and was 
thankful when an angry roar following 
sharp on the report showed the bullet 
had gone home, but nevertheless the 
lioness disappeared. Soon from some 
thickish bush an angry snarling pro- 
claimed the whereabouts of the big cat. 
She was evidently painfully hit, and it 
seemed a pity to lose her after our 
hard day’s work. Besides I hate leav- 
ing a wounded beast to die a probably 
lingering death of torture. So against 
my better judgment, and the protests 
of the hunter, I determined to follow 
her up. As the hunter refused to move, 
I told him to remain where he was, 
and followed by my faithful boy gun- 
bearer with my second rifle, entered 
the bush by a narrow game path. From 
the moment we entered the bush the 
situation became critical. The lioness 
ceased snarling, and although we could 
not see her, was evidently intently 
watching us. To say that I felt jumpy 
is putting it mildly, but as we were in 
it, we had to go through with it. So 
with every sense stretched to the ut 
most, we cautiously advanced along the 
path. The end came with a startling 
suddenness, for without warning, we 
suddenly emerged into a patch of open, 
and there by a rock, ready to spring, 
crouched the lioness. I had just time 
to throw up my rifle, as with a roar 
she hurled her great body upon me. At 
the instant, I pressed the trigger, but 
an ominous metalic click told of a miss 
fire, and with the sound I was hurled 
sideways to the ground. Luckily I did 
not lose hold of my rifle, and stagger- 
ing to my feet, turned to see my gun- 
bearer running along the edge of the 
bush pursued by the lioness. It was 
soon over, for with three gigantic 
bounds the great cat felled him to earth, 
and lay with his head between her 
paws, worrying him as a cat does a 
mouse. With a fervent prayer that 
there would be no more miss-fires I 
ejected the dead shell and loading from 
the magazine walked up to the snarling 
beast. Directly she heard me _ she 
turned, and drawing her great limbs 
under her, prepared to spring. I took 
a steady aim between her blazing eyes 
and pulled the trigger just as the pow- 
erful muscles launched the yellow body 
upwards. The soft nosed _ bullet 
crashed through bone and brain, and 
expanding as it did so, tumbled her an 
inert mass at my feet. Having made 
certain that she was dead, my first care 
was for my gun-bearer, but the poor 
fellow was past all help, his head 
crushed to a pulp by a blow from the 
powerful paw of the lioness. By bolting 
he had attracted her attention as she 
sprang, and so had saved my life as 
she merely knocked me over with her 
