CHAPTER II.

THE CAT FAMILY--THE LION.

THE LION--Its Geographical Distribution at the Present Day and in Ancient Times--Its Haunts--Varieties of the Lion--Distinction between the Lion and other Cats--Its Courage, Speed, and Strength--Its Roar--Its supposed Magnanimity--Its Habits--Man-eating--Occasional resort to Vegetable Diet--Love-making--The Lion-cubs and their Education--Old Age--Breeding in Captivity--Lion-hunting.

THE LION.[7]

The “King of Beasts” must, of course, be placed at the head of our list of beasts of prey, for although he is excelled in size and ferocity by the Tiger, in elegance of form by the Leopard and Jaguar, and in beauty of colouring by most of the great Cats, yet it would be useless, even if it were advisable, to depose him from the throne he has, by the universal consent of mankind, so long occupied. And, truly, who would wish to uncrown him? He is anything but an amiable beast--cruel and cowardly, greedy, treacherous, noisy, and self-asserting, never forgetful of the “divine right of kings” to prey upon their subjects; but still he is quite on a level, in the matters of morality and fitness to reign, with a very large proportion of his brother sovereigns of the genus _Homo_, with whom he well deserves a place in that limbo where, according to the mildly-spiteful poet of Olney, dwell “all that ever reigned” of the kings of men.

The Lion is entirely confined to the Old World, where it ranges through Africa from Barbary to Cape Colony, and extends into the south-west corner of Asia, where its range just overlaps that of the Tiger. Except in this “debateable land” the two monarchs keep clear of one another, the Lion keeping court over Africa and South-west Asia, and the Tiger ruling in Southern and Eastern Asia, the most important pretender in either kingdom being the Leopard.

With respect to the subject of distribution of the Lion in ancient times, we will quote from a late able writer. “That Lions were once found in Europe there can be no doubt. Thus it is recorded by Herodotus that the baggage camels of the army of Xerxes were attacked by Lions in the country of the Pæonians and Crestonœi, on their march from Acanthus (near the peninsula of Mount Athos) to Therme, afterwards Thessalonica (now Salonika). The camels alone, it is stated, were attacked, other beasts remaining untouched as well as men. The same historian also observes that the limits in Europe within which Lions were then found were the Nessus or Nestus, a Thracian river running to Abdera, and the Achelous, which waters Acarnania. Aristotle mentions Europe as abundant in Lions, and especially in that part which is between the Achelous and Nessus, apparently copying the statement of Herodotus. Pliny does the same, and adds that the Lions of Europe are stronger than those of Africa and Syria. Pausanias copies the same story as to the attack of the Lions on the Camels of Xerxes; and he states, moreover, that Lions often descended into the plains at the foot of Olympus, which separates Macedonia from Thessaly, and that Polydamas, a celebrated athlete, a contemporary of Darius Nothus, slew one of them, although he was unarmed. The passage in Oppian, which some have considered as indicating the existence of Lions up to the banks of the Danube, fails, as an authority, for placing the Lion in that locality, because, as Cuvier observes, the context shows plainly that the name of Ista is there applied to an Armenian river, either by an error of the author or of the transcribers.”

Nor is Europe the only part of the world from which the form of the Lion has disappeared. Lions are no longer to be found in Egypt, Palestine, or Syria, where they were once evidently far from uncommon. The frequent allusion to the Lion in Scripture, and the various Hebrew terms there used to distinguish the different ages and the sex of the animal, prove a familiarity with the habits of the race. Even in Asia generally, with the exception of some countries between India and Persia, and some districts of Arabia, these magnificent beasts have become comparatively rare; and this is not to be wondered at. To say nothing of the immense draughts on the race for the Roman arena--and they were not inconsiderable, for there were a thousand Lions killed at Rome in the space of forty years--population and civilisation have gradually driven them within narrower limits, and their destruction has been rapidly worked in modern times since firearms have been used against them instead of the bow and the spear. The African Lion is annually retiring before the persecution of man farther and farther from the Cape. Mr. Bennett[8] says of the Lion: “His true country is Africa, in the vast and untrodden wilds of which, from the immense deserts of the North to the trackless forests of the South, he reigns supreme and uncontrolled.” In the sandy deserts of Arabia, in some of the wild districts of Persia, and in the jungles of Guzerat, in India, he maintains a precarious footing; but from the classic soil of Greece, as well as from the whole of Asia Minor, both of which were once exposed to his ravages, he has been utterly dislodged and extirpated.

The fearful custom, so common afterwards among the Romans, of having many encaged Lions, “fierce with dark keeping,” to use Bacon’s expression, for judicial as well as sporting purposes, was evidently an old custom in the East; for we learn from the book of Daniel that the kings of Babylon kept a “den of Lions” into which offenders were thrown alive. Judging, however, from the Biblical narrative, the Chaldeans had a far less revolting manner of killing criminals than the Romans, for they seem to have used the Lions simply as executioners; to have cast in the victim, and then to have fastened up the entrance of the den, drawing a decent veil on the horrible scene taking place within. They did not, like the Romans, curry favour with the masses by making the death of their victims into a spectacle, at which all classes had their love of excitement gratified by the sight of men and women torn and mangled and devoured by raging beasts, to the accompaniment of small talk and flirtation.

As to the former occurrence of the Lion in places where it is now absent, we may instance its evident commonness in Palestine. One of the earliest Lion stories occurs in the history of the Hebrew Hercules, who, when travelling with his father and mother to Timnath, “came to the vineyards of Timnath: and, behold, a young Lion roared against him. And the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him, and he rent him as he would have rent a kid, and he had nothing in his hand: but he told not his father or his mother what he had done.”[9]

Every one will remember David’s account of his encounter with the tawny savage in the Syrian pasture lands. “And David said unto Saul, Thy servant kept his father’s sheep, and there came a Lion, and a Bear, and took a Lamb out of the flock: and I went out after him, and smote him, and delivered it out of his mouth: and when he arose against me, I caught him by his beard, and smote him, and slew him. Thy servant slew both the Lion and the Bear.”[10]

Another Lion-slayer is one of David’s “braves”--Benaiah--“He went down also and slew a Lion in the midst of a pit in time of snow.”[11] Now this slight mention of the forest-king is a perfect picture in a few short words. In that land of milk and honey there was snow at certain seasons, and then that huge, bearded Cat was fain to hide himself in some cleft of the rock. If, however, the term “pit” means one in which the Lion has fallen, being entrapped, the short snatch of history loses none of its interest. The calm courage of this man made him to be “more honourable than the thirty mighty men,” in the list of David’s captains.

After the deportation of the ten tribes to Babylon, the number of Lions and other beasts of prey must have increased to a fearful extent in Palestine, for we find the men sent by the King of Assyria to re-people the deserted cities, complaining to their monarch of the ravages of these beasts which, as they put it, had been sent “because they knew not the manner of the God of the land.”

As to the favourite haunts of the Lion in the various countries where it exists, “that Lions exist in the desert,” says M. Carette, “is a myth popularised by the dreams of artists and poets, and has no foundation but in their imagination. This animal does not quit the mountains where it finds shelter, food, and drink. When the traveller questions the natives concerning these wild beasts, which Europeans suppose to be their companions in the desert, they reply, with imperturbable _sangfroid_, ‘Have you, then, Lions in your country which can drink air and eat leaves? We fear only the viper, and, in humid spots, the innumerable swarms of mosquitos which abound there.’”[12] But the sacred writer makes him come up from the “swellings of Jordan;” and with Homer he is the Mountain Lion: the “artists and poets” of M. Carette are _moderns_, who know but little of the subject; not _ancients_ who were familiar with the beast.

When an animal has a wide geographical distribution it is almost always found that it exhibits, in different parts of its range, more or less well-marked varieties, distinguished from one another by evident though sometimes unimportant characters. This is the case with the Lion, of which five varieties are usually distinguished, three being found in Africa, and two in Asia. These varieties, or races, are as follows:--

1. _The Lion of Barbary._--The fur is of a deep yellowish-brown colour, and the mane is more developed than in any other variety, forming long tresses which cover the neck and shoulders, and are continued along the belly and the inside of the legs. This variety extends over the whole of Africa north of the Sahara.

2. _The Lion of Senegal_ is found in the western part of Africa, south of the Sahara. Its fur is of a lighter colour than that of the Barbary Lion, and the mane is less thick, and hardly at all developed over the breast and insides of the legs.

3. _The Lion of the Cape_ ranges over the whole of South Africa, and is said to be found under two lesser varieties, one yellowish in colour, and the other brown: the latter is considered to be the more formidable. The mane is darker than in either of the foregoing kinds.

The Asiatic varieties are smaller than the kinds found in Africa. The mane is variable, and the form less graceful than in the Cape or Barbary Lion.

4. _The Persian or Arabian Lion._--This is a paler variety found in Western Asia.

5. _The Lion of Guzerat_, or so-called “maneless Lion,” is usually stated to be the best-marked variety of all, as its mane, though by no means absent, as the name of the variety would lead us to suppose, is very much less than in any other kind; the body also is bulkier and the legs shorter. Some writers, however, deny altogether the distinctness of the variety, and consider that the mistake of considering the Guzerat Lion as such, has arisen from the fact of young specimens having been described. The strongest statements we have met with on this head are by Captain Harris, whose words we will quote, as they show how little reliance is to be placed on the distinction drawn by travellers between closely-allied varieties or species. Harris says that the South African Lion does not differ “in any material points from those found in Guzerat, in Western India, measuring between ten and eleven feet in extreme length, but generally possessing a finer mane, a peculiarity which is attributable to the less jungly character of the country he infests, and to the more advanced age which he is supposed to attain. Amongst the Cape colonists it is a fashionable belief that there are two distinct species of the African Lion--the yellow and the black--and that the one is infinitely less ferocious than the other. But I need scarcely inform the well-instructed reader that both the colour and the size depend chiefly upon the animal’s age; the development of the physical powers, and of the mane also, being principally influenced by a like contingency. That which has been designated the ‘maneless Lion of Guzerat’ is nothing more than a young Lion whose mane has not shot forth; and I give this opinion with less hesitation, having slain the ‘king of beasts’ in every stage from whelphood to imbecility.”

There has been no attempt to divide the above-named varieties into distinct species. From Linnæus to Dr. Gray, all zoologists agree in this matter. Hence we see that animals do not vary under domestication only; but _wild_ creatures also have their varieties or races, differing in the various localities in which they are found.

All these varieties together form a very well-marked species of the genus _Felis_, and are known as _Felis leo_, in zoological language. Some authors, however, as we have already noticed, prefer to consider the various kinds of Cat as so many distinct genera, and speak of the Lion as a single genus and species (_Leo nobilis_). The species, or genus--for it matters very little which we call it--is distinguished from other Cats by its uniform tawny colour, the tuft of hair at the end of the tail, and the flowing mane, which clothes the head, neck, and shoulders of the male. The head of the Lion is more square than that of the other species of Cats. The mane is entirely absent in the female, which is, in consequence, a comparatively ordinary-looking animal, as it is only by the grandeur of his hirsute appendage that the male is compensated for his plain colouring. The addition of the mane, however, gives him an immense advantage over all other species, adding to his apparent size, especially to that of the head, increasing almost infinitely the beauty of his form, and altogether making him one of the most magnificent objects in the animal kingdom. A further distinction between the Lion and other Cats is to be found in the strong tuft of hair at the end of the tail, which exists in both sexes. Quite at the extremity of the tail, and hidden by the tuft, is a curious little horny appendage or “thorn” with which it was supposed that the Lion, when lashing his tail, spurred his flanks, and so awoke all his courage and ferocity!

We have just mentioned the uniform tawny colour as characteristic of the Lion. This is so, in fact, in adult specimens, but the new-born young are invariably spotted, and the spots often persist for a considerable time. This is the case with Lions born in captivity, as well as with those in a state of nature, and has often been observed in the Lions born in the Zoological Gardens. In some instances the spots are visible during the animal’s life. There are grounds for believing that all the great Cats are descended from a spotted ancestor.

One more external character: the snout of the Lion is longer and more Dog-like than that of any other Cat; the forehead and nose are almost in the same straight line, instead of making a bold curve, as they do in the Tiger, Leopard, Jaguar, and the smaller Cats. So that the Lion, which is conventionally represented with an almost human roundness of face, has really a more thoroughly quadrupedal “muzzle” than any of his kin.

In the Cape Lion the tail tuft is black, the mane brown or black, according to age, and the handsome appearance of the animal is thus much enhanced. There is also a black spot at each corner of the mouth.

The size varies slightly in the different varieties. Captain Harris gives the measurements of an adult male from the Cape as follows:--Extreme length from snout to tip of tail, usually about ten feet; tail, three feet; height at the shoulder, three feet eight inches. The “maneless” Lion is somewhat smaller, as shown by the following measurements made by Captain Smee:--Length, including the tail, eight feet nine inches and a half; height (at the shoulder, we suppose), three feet six inches; and the impression of his paw measured six inches and a half across. A female, killed at the same time, was eight feet seven inches long, and three feet four inches high. The weight of the male (excluding the entrails) was thirty-five stone.

The _real size_ of the Lion is much less than would be supposed before measurement; and he is very inferior in size to many kinds of the Herbivorous animals, such as Horses, Oxen, and Buffaloes, and even the larger Antelopes, such as the Eland.

As to the internal structure of the Lion, there is really nothing, or almost nothing, to add to what has already been said under the character of the whole family. Like all the great beasts of prey, the Tiger, Leopard, &c., the osseous and muscular systems are immensely developed. The ridges of the bones take on a marvellous size for the attachment of the muscles, and in the skull the size of the great processes to which the muscles of the neck are attached, and the width of the jugal arches, or bony bridges under which pass the great muscles by which the lower jaw is closed, and the powerful bite given, are very remarkable.

It is curious to see what wonderfully different impressions are produced on different writers by the appearance of the Lion in his native haunts. For instance, Captain Harris says, “Those who have seen the monarch of the forest in crippling captivity only, immured in a cage barely double his own length, with his sinews relaxed by confinement, have seen but the shadow of that animal which ‘clears the desert with his rolling eye.’”

On the other hand, Livingstone speaks in the most disrespectful, not to say contemptuous way, of the animal’s vaunted majesty of bearing: “When a Lion is met in the daytime, a circumstance by no means unfrequent to travellers in these parts, if pre-conceived notions do not lead them to expect something very ‘noble’ or ‘majestic,’ they will see merely an animal somewhat larger than the biggest Dog they ever saw, and partaking very strongly of the canine features. The face is not much like the usual drawings of a Lion, the nose being prolonged like a Dog’s; not exactly such as our painters make it, though they might learn better at the Zoological Gardens; their ideas of majesty being usually shown by making their Lions’ faces like old women in nightcaps. When encountered in the daytime, the Lion stands a second or two gazing, then turns slowly round, and walks as slowly away for a dozen paces, looking over his shoulder; then begins to trot, and, when he thinks himself out of sight, bounds off like a Greyhound.”

The concluding sentence of this passage shows that Livingstone considers not only the Lion’s beauty to have been over-rated, but his courage also. The following extract quite bears out this opinion:--

“On riding briskly along early one morning, I observed, as I thought, a solitary Zebra a few hundred yards in advance. I instantly alighted, and, leaving ‘Spring’ (his horse) to take care of himself, I made towards the quarry, gun in hand, under cover of a few small trees. Having proceeded for some distance, I peeped cautiously from behind a bush, when I found, to my astonishment, that the animal which I had taken for a Zebra was nothing less than a noble Lion. He was quietly gazing at me. I must confess I felt a little startled at the unexpected apparition; but, recovering quickly from my surprise, I advanced to meet him. He, however, did not think fit to wait till I was within proper range, but turned tail, and fled towards the Swakess. Hoping to be able to come to close quarters with him, I followed at the top of my speed, and was rapidly gaining ground on the brute, when suddenly, with two or three immense bounds, he cleared an open space, and was the next moment hidden from view among the thick reeds that here lined the banks of the river. Having no Dogs with me, all my efforts to dislodge him from his stronghold proved unavailing. Whilst still lingering about the place, I came upon the carcase of a Gnu, on which a troop of Lions had, apparently, been feasting not many minutes previously. Undoubtedly my somewhat dastardly friend had been one of the party.”

After such rude shocks as these to our faith in the African monarch’s courage, it is positively refreshing to come across instances where the Lion has shown himself capable of very great boldness, such, for instance, as the following:--

“We were waked up suddenly by hearing one of the Oxen bellowing and the Dogs barking. It was moderately dark, and I seized Clifton’s double rifle, and rushed out, not knowing where, when I saw the driver perched on the top of a temporary hut, made of grass, about six feet high, roaring lustily for a doppè (cap). I scrambled up just as the poor Ox ceased his cries, and heard the Lions growling and roaring on the top of him, not more than fourteen yards from where we were, but it was too dark to see them. I fired, however, in the direction of the sound, and just above the body of the Ox, which I could distinguish tolerably well, as it was a black one. Diza (the driver) followed my example; and, as the Lions did not take the least notice, I fired my second barrel, and was just proceeding to load my own gun, which Jack had brought me, when I was aware, for a single instant only, that the Lion was coming; and the same moment I was knocked half-a-dozen somersaults backwards off the hut, the brute striking me in the chest with his head. I gathered myself up in a second, and made a dash at a fence just behind me, and scrambled through it, gun in hand, but the muzzle was choked with dirt. I then made for the wagon, and got on the box, where I found all the Kaffirs, who could not get inside, sticking like Monkeys, and Diza perched on the top. How he got there seemed to me a miracle, as he was alongside me when the brute charged. A minute or two afterwards one of them marched off a Goat, one of five that were tethered by the foot to the hut that we had so speedily evacuated.

“Diza, thinking he had a chance, fired from the top of the wagon, and the recoil knocked him backwards on to the tent, which broke his fall. It was a most ludicrous sight altogether. After that we were utterly defeated, and the brutes were allowed to eat their meal unmolested, which they continued to do for some time, growling fiercely all the while. The Kaffirs said there were five in all. I fired once again, but without effect; and we all sat shivering with cold without any clothes on till near daybreak, when our enemies beat a retreat, and I was not sorry to turn in again between the blankets. I was just beginning to get warm again when I was aroused by a double shot, and rushed out on hearing that the driver and after-rider had shot the Lion. We went to the spot, and found a fine Lioness dead, with a bullet through the ribs from the after-rider; a good shot, as she was at least 150 yards off. Another had entered the neck just behind the head, and travelled all along the spine nearly to the root of the tail. I claimed the shot, and forthwith proceeded to skin her. I cut out the ball; it proved to be my shot out of Clifton’s rifle. This accounted for her ferocious onslaught. The after-rider was rather chopfallen at having to give her up to the rightful owner.

“Diza got a claw in his thigh, and the gun which he had in his hand was frightfully scratched on the stock: rather sharp practice. A strong-nerved old Kaffir woman lay in the hut the whole time, without a door or anything whatever between her and the Lions, and kept as still as a Mouse all the while.”

Again:--“The enemy disdainfully surveyed us for several minutes, daring us to approach with an air of conscious power and pride, which well beseemed his grizzled form. As the rifle balls struck the ground nearer and nearer at each discharge, his wrath, as indicated by his glistening eyes, increased roar, and impatient switching of the tail, was clearly getting the mastery over his prudence. Presently a shot broke his leg. Down he came upon the other three with reckless impetuosity, his tail straight out and whirling on its axis, his mane bristling on end, and his eyeballs flashing rage and vengeance. Unable, however, to overtake our Horses, he shortly retreated under a heavy fire, limping and discomfited to his stronghold. Again we bombarded him, and again exasperated he rushed into the plain with headlong fury, the blood now streaming from his open jaws, and dyeing his mane with crimson. It was a gallant charge, but it was to be his last. A well-directed shot arresting him in full career he pitched with violence upon his skull, and throwing a complete somersault, subsided amid a cloud of dust.”

The Lion has some excuse for occasionally developing a strong running away propensity. His pace when going at full speed is wonderfully rapid, considering the length of his legs. As the following extract shows, he is able to outrun a firstrate Horse, so that the animals on which he usually feeds would, if he chose to pursue them, have simply no chance whatever against him. As we shall see, however, the Lion seldom pursues his prey, preferring to lie in ambush and to spring upon a passing herd. This consideration makes the following experience rather remarkable. The Lion probably pursued Mr. Baldwin not to satisfy appetite, but for revenge.

“Now for an adventure with a Lion, which I have reserved for the last. On Friday the old Masara captain paid me a visit. He had seen a Lion in the path, and left a lot of Masaras to watch him. I had been working hard all day in the hot sun with an adze, making a dissel-boom for the wagon, and was tired, lame, and shaky in the arms, and did not feel at all up to the mark for rifle-shooting; but I ordered ‘Ferns’ to be saddled, who was also not at all fresh, having had a tremendous burst in the morning across a flat after a lean Eland Cow. Just after, I caught sight of about twenty-five Masaras sitting down, all armed to the teeth with shields and assegais. My attention was attracted to a Kaffir skull, which struck me as a bad omen, and the thought entered my head that it might be my fate to lay mine to bleach there. I did not, however, suffer this thought to unnerve me, but proceeded, and found that the Lion had decamped. The Masaras followed his spoor about a couple of miles, when he broke cover. I did not see him at first, but gave chase in the direction in which the Masaras pointed, saw him, and followed for about 1,000 yards, as he had a long start, when he stood in a nasty thorn thicket. I dismounted at about sixty or seventy yards, and shot at him. I could only see his outline, and that very indistinctly, and he dropped so instantaneously that I thought I had shot him dead. I remounted and reloaded, and took a short circle, and stood up in my stirrup to catch a sight of him. His eyes glared so savagely, and he lay crouched in so natural a position, with his ears alone erect, the points black as night, that I saw in a moment I had missed him. I was then about eighty yards from him, and was weighing the chances of getting a shot at him from behind an immense ant-heap, about fifty yards nearer. I had just put the Horse in motion with that intention when on he came with a tremendous roar, and ‘Ferns’ whipped round like a top, and away at full speed. My Horse is a fast one, and has run down the Gemsbok, one of the fleetest Antelopes, but the way the Lion ran him in was terrific. In an instant I was at my best pace, leaning forward, rowels deep into my Horse’s flanks, looking back over my left shoulder over a hard, flat, excellent galloping ground. On came the Lion, two strides to my one. I never saw anything like it, and never want to do so again. To turn in the saddle and shoot darted across my mind when he was within three strides of me, but on second thoughts I gave a violent jerk on the near rein, and a savage dig at the same time with the off-heel, armed with a desperate rowel, just in the nick of time, as the old manikin bounded by me, grazing my right shoulder with his, and all but unhorsing me, but I managed to right myself by clinging to the near stirrup-leather. He immediately slackened his speed. As soon as I could pull up, which was not all at once, as ‘Ferns’ had his mettle up, I jumped off, and made a very pretty and praiseworthy shot, considering the fierce ordeal I had just passed (though I say it who ought not), breaking his hind leg at 150 yards off, just at the edge of the thicket. Fearful of losing him, as the Masaras were still flying for bare life over the veldt, with their shields over their heads, and I knew nothing would prevail on them to take the spoor again, I was in the saddle, and chasing him like mad in an instant. His broken leg gave me great confidence, though he went hard on three legs; and I jumped off forty yards behind him, and gave him the second barrel--a good shot--just above the root of the tail, breaking his spine, when he lay under a bush roaring furiously, and I gave him two in the chest before he cried ‘Enough!’ He was an old manikin, fat and furious, having only four huge yellow blunt fangs left.”

Not only has the Lion the advantage of great courage--at least, except when coming in contact with those he feels to be his masters--and of great swiftness, but his strength is prodigious. He will fell an Ox or an Antelope with a single blow of his paw, break its neck with one crunch of his cruel teeth, and bound off with it to his lair as easily as if he were only carrying a Rabbit. With a Calf in his mouth he has been known to leap a wall nine feet high. Not an animal of the forest, save the Rhinoceros, can hope to escape from such terrible perfections as these. Any quarry the Lion may choose--Ox, Antelope, or Zebra--is bound to succumb.

There is another characteristic about the beast which is a valuable accessory weapon, comparable to the “British cheer,” with which our soldiers are always supposed to strike terror into the hearts of their enemies. We mean, of course, the terrible roar--that deafening thunder voice, at sound of which the Leopard and Hyæna hold their breath in awe, and the doomed flocks tremble and flee. With man even the noise, when heard for the first time, produces an indescribable feeling, and a firm conviction that all his courage will be needed to meet such a fearful opponent. Sometimes, however, the Lion seems to exercise his voice for fun, or for practice, rather than for striking terror into his hearers.

The terror in which the Lion is held by the meaner members of his own family is well shown by the following passage from Homer. Menelaus and Ajax hear Ulysses calling for help:--

“---- at the voice arrived, they found Ulysses, Jove-beloved, compass’d about By Trojans, as the Lynxes in the hills, Athirst for blood, compass an antler’d Stag Pierced by an archer; while the blood is warm And his limbs pliable, from him he ’scapes; But when the feather’d barb hath quell’d his force, In some dark hollow of the mountain’s side, The hungry troop devour him; chance, the while, Conducts a Lion thither, before whom All vanish, and the Lion feeds alone; So swarm’d the Trojan powers numerous and bold, Around Ulysses, who with wary skill Heroic combated his evil day. But Ajax came, covered with his broad shield That seemed a tower, and at Ulysses’ side Stood fast; then fled the Trojans wide-dispersed.”

Shakspere has the same idea, when he says--

“Lions make Leopards tame.”

The magnanimity of the Lion is a very well-worn theme. Every one knows all about Androcles and the Lion; “the tale is somewhat musty” by this time. All the older poets have something about it--the writers of the golden age--before natural selection was thought of, and when animals of many kinds were credited with a vast amount of idyllic amiability, of which, alas! nobody believes them capable now.

In the exquisite woodland scenery of “As You Like It,” a hungry Lioness that has just suckled her whelps, is accredited with a nobility to which she, assuredly, had no title. “A green and gilded Snake” has been frightened from the sleeping Oliver by Orlando--

“---- it unlinked itself, And with indented glides did slip away Into a bush: under which bush’s shade A Lioness, with udders all drawn dry, Lay couching, head on ground, with Cat-like watch, When that the sleeping man should stir, for ’tis The royal disposition of that beast To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.”

We are not anxious to know when and how Shakspere gained his knowledge of wild beasts; we possess his descriptions, and that suffices for us. He may make Athenians speak like his fellow Englishmen; place Bohemia by the sea-side, and have the forest of Arden peopled with Lions. All that is of the least importance; for, may we not say of him, what he makes Helena say to Hermia?--

“---- your tongue’s sweet air, [Is] More tuneable than Lark to shepherd’s ear, When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.”

The Lion is a solitary animal, hunting alone, except from the commencement of the breeding season, when his wife goes with him, up to the time when the babies are beginning to know how to take care of themselves. Until they have arrived at months of discretion, “the Lion tears in pieces enough for his whelps and strangles for his Lionesses, and fills his holes with prey and his dens with ravine.”

The Lion’s den is made by scraping away the surface of the earth in some secluded spot, where the beast remains as long as game is plentiful, and there is no one to disturb him. When he has used up one hunting-ground, he departs for “fresh woods and pastures new.”

He hunts entirely by night, at which time it is not safe for any one, in a Lion neighbourhood, to stir out without firearms, for the Lion, with the laziness which distinguishes him, will always prefer man-meat caught at once, to Antelope or Zebra-meat, for which he will have the trouble of looking. In the daytime he spends most of the time in sleeping off his bloody carouse, and, until nightfall, is always very unwilling to be disturbed, and unless molested hardly at all dangerous, except in the breeding season. This seems curious, as, from the ferocity of the animal when he is attacked, or when he is catering for himself by night, it savours of the marvellous to talk of such a savage being harmless under any circumstances. But there can be no doubt about the fact; he seems to object to expose his actions not only to the light of day, but also to that of the moon. For this, we have the testimony of a man whose loss Englishmen have not yet ceased to deplore; a man who, by universal consent, is _facile princeps_ in the ranks of African explorers:--

“By day there is not, as a rule, the smallest danger of Lions which are not molested attacking man, nor even on a clear moonlight night, except they possess a breeding στοργή (natural affection). This makes them brave almost any danger. And, if a man happens to cross to the windward of them, both Lion and Lioness will rush at him, in the manner of a bitch with whelps. This does not often happen, as I only became aware of two or three instances of it. In one case a man, passing when the wind blew from him to the animals, was bitten before he could climb a tree. And, occasionally, a man on horseback has been caught by the leg under the same circumstances. So general, however, is the sense of security, on moonlight nights, that we seldom tied up our Oxen, but let them lie loose by the wagons. While, on a dark, rainy night, if a Lion is in the neighbourhood, he is almost sure to venture to kill an Ox.”[13]

The following passage shows how unusual it is for a Lion to do any damage by day; so uncommon that the natives consider a supernatural cause necessary to account for so remarkable an occurrence:--

“The Bakàtla of the village Mabatsa were much troubled by Lions, which leaped into the cattle-pens by night, and destroyed their Cows. They even attacked the herds in open day. This was so unusual an occurrence that the people believed that they were bewitched: ‘given,’ as they said, ‘into the power of the Lions by a neighbouring tribe.’ They went once to attack the animals, but, being rather a cowardly people compared to Bechuanas in general, on such occasions, they returned without killing any.”

The darker and stormier the night is the better the Lions like it, and the more persistent will be their attacks. “The new moon brought, if possible, a more abundant supply of rain than usual; nor did the Lions fail to take advantage of the nocturnal tempest, having twice endeavoured to effect an entrance into the cattle-fold. It continued, until nine o’clock the next morning, to pour with such violence, that we were unable to open the canvas curtains of the wagon. Peeping out, however, to ascertain if there was any prospect of its clearing up, we perceived three Lions squatted within a hundred yards, in open plain, attentively watching the Oxen. Our rifles were hastily seized, but the dampness of the atmosphere prevented their exploding. One after another, too, the Hottentots sprang out of the pack-wagons and snapped their guns at the unwelcome intruders, as they trotted sulkily away, and took up their position on a stony eminence at no great distance. Fresh caps and priming were applied, and a broadside was followed by the instantaneous demise of the largest, whose cranium was perforated by two bullets at the same instant. Swinging their tails over their backs, the survivors took warning by the fate of their companion, and dashed into the thicket with a roar.”

When a Lion is fortunate enough to live in the neighbourhood of villages, he naturally prefers the least troublesome course of selecting his supper from the flocks and herds of the inhabitants. It is said that in Algeria, some thirty years ago, each Lion, in the course of his life, cost the Arabs upwards of £8,400, as he destroys every year Cattle, Horses, Camels, &c., to the value of £240, and the average duration of a Lion’s life may be taken at thirty-five years. Thus, Jules Gérard, the celebrated Lion-killer, remarks, that in one district the Arab who paid five francs a-year to the State, paid fifty to the Lion!

If there are no farms or villages handy, the Lion has to content himself with the more troublesome course of catching wild prey. To this end he lies in ambush, in some convenient spot, and waits patiently or impatiently until a herd of Antelopes or Zebras passes by, when he leaps upon one of the number, roaring terribly. He usually strikes the animal down at once, by the immense weight of his body, the terrible blow of his paw, and the fearful grip of his teeth in the neck of his victim. If he misses his aim, he never pursues the flying herd, but returns dejectedly to his lair and waits for another opportunity. The Lion’s mode of attack is described with all the marvellous accuracy and fire of his transcendent genius by the great Grecian:--

“---- as leaps a famish’d Lion fell On beeves that graze some marshy meadow’s breadth A countless herd, tended by one unskill’d To cope with savage beasts in their defence, Beside the foremost kine or with the last He paces heedless, but the Lion, borne Impetuous on the hindmost, one devours And scatters all the rest.”

“But as the Lion on the mountains bred, Glorious in strength, when he hath seized the best And fairest of the herd, with savage fangs First breaks her neck, then laps the bloody paunch Torn wide. Meantime, around him, but remote, Dogs stand and swains clamouring, yet by fear Repress’d, annoy him not or dare approach.”

The Lion is said sometimes to develop the taste for “man-eating,” which makes the Tiger so terrible. This, however, is comparatively rare, except in old animals; but, whether he eats men by choice or not his depredations are fearfully extensive, especially when he has had a good deal of experience, knows exactly when to attack a place, and has lost wholly or in part the fear of man, which usually distinguishes him. Here is an account of the termination of the career of one of these heroes, a perfect Dick Turpin among Lions, so great had become his skill in “lifting”:--

“We had not been many days at that place, when a magnificent Lion suddenly appeared one night in the midst of a village. A small Dog that had incautiously approached the beast paid the penalty of its life for its daring. The next day a grand chase was got up, but the Lion, being on his guard, managed to elude his pursuers. The second day, however, he was killed by Messrs. Galton and Bam; and, on cutting him up, the poor Dog was found, still undigested, in his stomach, bitten into five pieces. The natives highly rejoiced at the successful termination of the hunt; for this Lion had proved himself to be one of the most daring and destructive ever known, having, in a short time, killed upwards of fifty Oxen, Cows, and Horses. When he had previously been chased he had always escaped unscathed, and every successive attack made upon him only served to increase his ferocity.”

That the Lion does not always “drink the blood of the slain,” but adopts a mild and cooling diet at times, is shown by a remarkable passage in Dr. Livingstone’s work. He is speaking of the various vegetable blessings in the desert:--“But the most surprising plant of the desert is the ‘Kengwe or Kéme’ (_Cucumis caffer_), the water melon. In years when more than the usual quantity of rain falls, vast tracts of the country are literally covered with these melons. This was the case annually when the fall of rain was greater than it is now, and the Bakwains sent trading parties every year to the Lake. It happens commonly once every ten or eleven years. For the last three years its occurrence has coincided with an extraordinarily wet season. Then animals of every sort and name, including man, rejoice in the rich supply. The Elephant, true lord of the forest, revels in this fruit, and so do the different species of Rhinoceros, although naturally so diverse in their choice of pasture. The various kinds of Antelopes feed on them with equal avidity; and Lions, Hyænas, Jackals, and Mice, all seem to know and appreciate the common blessing.”

This is a very curious circumstance when we consider how purely carnivorous the Lion, in common with the other _Felidæ_, is under ordinary circumstances. But Dr. Livingstone’s is not the only evidence to show that the bloodthirsty creature occasionally likes a “relish” of green-meat with its flesh. We are informed by Dr. Huggins, F.R.S., that in the Zoological Gardens at Dublin a Lioness had had several litters, but the young ones invariably languished and died after a short time, until the expedient was hit upon of supplying the Lioness with live Goats. This seems horrible enough, but in fact it was not so. The Goat was put into the cage in the evening, and instead of manifesting the extreme terror one would have expected, it seemed to feel no fear at all, but ate grass placed in the den with perfect content, and, when night came, and it had eaten its fill, lay down by its terrible companion, cuddling up close to her, chewing the cud, and seeming to enjoy the warmth, and to be delighted with its new bedfellow. The Lioness showed no hostility to the confiding beast until towards the morning, when she suddenly smashed its head with one blow of her paw, ripped it open, and at once began feeding with avidity on the paunch, with its contents of softened and half-digested grass, always completely finishing this “herbaceous treat” before setting to work on the flesh. It is also stated (_vide infra_) that very old Lions take to eating grass, thus giving a literal significance to the favourite “Lion and Lamb” illustration, used by poets of all ages to express the change by which the “natural man” is converted into the “spiritual man,” the savage civilised, and the “Philistine” cultured--“The Lion shall eat straw like the Ox.”

“And now beside thee, bleating Lamb, I can lie down and sleep, Or think on Him who bore thy name, Graze after thee and weep.”

The Lion enjoys the honourable distinction of being, unlike most Carnivora, strictly faithful to his spouse, although report says that she is by no means so virtuous, but only cleaves to her mate until a stronger and handsomer one turns up. Let us hope this is a calumny. At the breeding season each Lioness is usually followed by a number of Lions, who try all means in their power to gain her affections, and fight the most terrible battles with one another. In these fights the mane is of great use, for its length and thickness prevent the combatants taking a firm grip of one another’s neck. Thus, the Lion with the finest mane has the best chance of succeeding in life in two ways. The Lioness is more likely to take a fancy to him than to a less favoured suitor, for most of the lower animals, as well as ourselves, appreciate personal adornment very strongly; and he has also the best possible protection in the tournament in which he is obliged to take part, fighting, _à outrance_, against all comers.

When the battle is over, and the “queen of love and beauty” has bestowed the prize--herself--on the victor, the happy pair live together until the young are able to take care of themselves. The male often hunts for his mate, and allows her to take as much as she wants of the prey before satisfying his own hunger. He cares for her in the same way all the time she is suckling, and for the litter from the time when they are weaned till they are able to hunt for themselves.

The Lioness goes with young about fifteen or sixteen weeks, and produces from two to six at a litter. The cubs are delightful little creatures, about as big as a moderate-sized Cat, blind at first, with pretty innocent faces, and delightfully playful ways. The mother is devoted to them; thinks, no doubt, like Celia Chettam, in “Middlemarch,” that where there are babies “things are right enough, and that error, in general, is a mere lack of that central posing force.”

When the cubs are about eight to twelve months old they begin hunting for themselves, by attacking smaller animals, such as sheep and Goats, under their parents’ direction. The period between the ages of one and two years is the worst part of the Lion’s existence, as far as the inhabitants of the district are concerned, for they “kill not only to support themselves, but also in order to learn how to kill.”

At the age of three the young Lion’s education is complete; he leaves his father’s house, and begins to think of getting a house and a wife for himself, and then in her company he “roars after his prey and seeks his meat from God” for the rest of his career. He is not full-grown until the age of eight, when he may be considered as quite adult; and for many years to come revels in the consciousness of unconquerable strength and power, and oppresses all inferior creatures to his heart’s content.

But even to king Leo “life is not all beer and skittles;” there is suffering and work to be borne and done. The lower creatures “groan and travail” with us; and we find disease where we should least expect to find it, namely, in the wild creatures that at their will freely roam the desert. “The Carnivora, too, become diseased and mangy. Lions become lean, and perish miserably by reason of the decay of the teeth. When a Lion becomes too old to catch game, he frequently takes to killing Goats in the villages. A woman or child happening to go out at night falls a prey too; and as this is his only source of subsistence now, he continues it. From this circumstance has arisen the idea that the Lion, when he has once tasted human flesh, loves it better than any other. A man-eater is, invariably, an old Lion. And, when he overcomes his fear of man so far as to come to villages for Goats, the people remark, ‘His teeth are worn, he will soon kill men.’ They at once acknowledge the necessity of instant action, and turn out to kill him. When living far away from population, or when, as is the case in some parts, he entertains a wholesome dread of the Bushmen and Bakalahari, as soon as either disease or old age overtakes him, he begins to catch Mice and other small Rodents, and even to eat grass. The natives, observing undigested vegetable matter in his droppings, follow up his trail in the certainty of finding him, scarcely able to move, under some tree, and despatch him without difficulty. The grass may have been eaten as medicine, as is observed in Dogs.”

Before leaving the subject of the life and death of our great Carnivore, it will be as well to add a few words as to its breeding in captivity. It is stated by a naturalist who probably knows more about the matter than any other man,[14] that “the Lion appears to breed more freely than any other species of _Felis_, and the number of young at a birth is greater, not infrequently four, and sometimes five, being produced in a litter. It is remarkable that these animals breed more freely in travelling collections (wild-beast shows) than in zoological gardens. Probably the constant excitement and irritation produced by moving from place to place, or change of air, may have considerable influence in the matter.

“A very extraordinary malformation, or defect, has frequently occurred among Lions produced during the last thirty years, in the Regent’s Park. This imperfection consists in the roof of the mouth being open. The palatal bones do not meet; the animal, is, therefore, unable to suck, and consequently always dies. This abnormal condition has not been confined to the young of any one pair of Lions, but many Lions that have died in the Zoological Gardens, and not in any way related to each other, have, from time to time, produced these malformed young, the cause of which appears to me quite unaccountable.”

Lion-hunting has not yet become, like Tiger-hunting, a regularly organised sport, entered upon at a particular season by large parties of Europeans, who think far more of the fun of the thing than of ridding the world of destroying beasts. The sport of Lion-hunting, on the other hand, is only undertaken by an individual traveller, now and then, who has to take nearly the whole of the danger on his own shoulders, and is quite without the extraneous aids afforded by regiments of Elephant-mounted fellow-hunters, and armies of beaters. The rest of the Lion-killing is done, not for sport, but for use, to get rid of a beast which has decimated flocks, and put friends and neighbours to a cruel death. In all parts where the Lion is found, the natives have one or more ways of trying to get rid of him: sometimes meeting him in open fight, sometimes destroying him in a more underhand manner, by pitfalls, or the like.

Of all methods, that which is attended with the least danger is the ditch, or pitfall, of the Arabs of Algeria. This is a pit four or five yards broad, and ten deep, dug in the middle of the _douar_, or small encampment of from ten to twenty tents, in which the Arabs live during the winter. The whole douar is surrounded by a hedge, two or three yards in height, and a lesser hedge is placed round the pit to prevent the cattle falling into it; the latter being kept loose within the encampment to attract Lions by their scent and their cries. When the desirable effect is attained, and a Lion has made up his mind to take toll from the flock he hears bleating within the enclosure, he leaps the hedge with one of his tremendous bounds, and, the ditch being a less distance from the hedge than the horizontal range of his leap, falls headlong into the trap prepared for him, from which, owing to its depth, and the fact that it is made narrower above than below, his most frantic efforts can never succeed in extricating him.

As soon as the Arabs hear his roars, and know that they have their enemy a prisoner, they prepare a great feast, summon all the inhabitants of the neighbouring douars, and, proceeding to the pit’s mouth, every one hurls stones at the poor animal, calling him at the same time by all the opprobrious names in the Arabic vocabulary, and, finally, fire upon him until he is dead. When this is the case, they haul up the carcase with ropes; and, having got their prey on level ground, “the mothers take each a small piece of the animal’s heart and give it to their male children to eat, in order to render them strong and courageous. They take away as much as possible of the mane in order to make amulets of it, which are supposed to have the same effect. Then, when the skin has been removed and the flesh divided, each family goes back to its respective douar, where, in the evening, beneath the tents, the event of the day will, for a long time, be the favourite story with every one.”

Besides the pitfall, the Arabs construct ambushes, which are of two kinds. “In the first a hole is dug, about a yard deep, and three or four wide. After placing trunks of trees over it, and covering them with heavy stones, the whole is strewed over with the earth dug out of the ground, except in a few places on one side, where holes are left for the men to shoot through, and an opening on the other, which forms the door of the cavern, and which is closed from the inside by means of a piece of rock.” A pit of this sort is made in some place frequented by Lions. The carcase of an animal is put on the ground opposite the loopholes, and the Arabs get inside and wait until the Lion begins to try conclusions with the bait, when he is promptly peppered by his hidden enemies.

In the second kind of ambush, the hunters conceal themselves in a tree instead of in a pit. Otherwise the mode of procedure is the same.

All these methods of Lion-slaying are safe and sure, but scarcely heroic. Often, however, the Arabs organise regular hunting parties, and compass the death of their foe in a far more legitimate and sportsman-like manner. A party of about fifty usually take part in the hunt; they proceed, after a good deal of talking over the plan of operations, to the Lion’s lair, and by the footmarks it is determined whether the animal in question is young or old, male or female. Five or six experienced Arabs act as watchmen to observe the movements of the game, and signal to their comrades. The _modus operandi_ varies with the age and sex of the Lion. Jules Gérard describes the method when a full-grown male, of course the worst of all to have to do with, is diagnosed.

“When the hunters have succeeded in getting within gunshot of the supposed lair, they ‘turn’ it, so as to command it from the high ground, and stop directly they command the position, observing throughout their operations the greatest silence. As the Lion’s sense of hearing is very delicate, it sometimes happens that he hears the steps of the hunters, or the rolling of some stone which has been displaced from the side of the mountain. In this case he rises and walks in the direction of the sound. If one of the ‘men of the watch’ perceive him, he takes the skirt of his burnous in his right hand, and hoists it before him, which means ‘I see him.’ One of the huntsmen from the group then stands forward, and puts himself in communication with him, shaking his burnous from right to left, which signifies ‘Where is he?’ and ‘What is he doing?’ If the Lion is still, the ‘man of the watch’ raises the skirts of his burnous to his head, then lets them fall, and walks a few steps forwards, repeating the same signal, which may be translated by ‘He is motionless, in front of you, and at some distance.’ If the Lion walks to the right or left, the man walks in the same direction, shaking his burnous either from left to right, or from right to left. Finally, if the animal proceeds in the direction of the hunters, the ‘man of the watch’ places himself exactly opposite them, shakes his burnous violently, and cries with all his might, ‘_Aou likoum!_’ (‘Take care!’) At this signal the hunters draw themselves up in a line, if possible against a rock, so that their position may not be turned. Woe to him who has not heard the cry of ‘_Aou likoum!_’ in sufficient time, and has stopped at some distance from his comrades.”

When a Lion actually comes in sight, all concealment is, of course, at an end. The Arabs get as near as possible, to fire, and as soon as their guns are discharged rush upon the wounded beast with their pistols and swords. As might naturally be expected the casualties in this mode of warfare are fearful; hardly a hunt takes place unmarked by the death of one or more of the hunters.

One of the most daring single combats of which we ever remember to have read was one between a great black-maned Lion and Mr. C. J. Andersson, who had all the real part of the fight entirely to himself. The account is also interesting as showing--like, perhaps, most descriptions of the same kind--how very tenacious of life the Lion is, for the animal in question, although it had received the contents of both Mr. Andersson’s barrels, one of which completely smashed its shoulder, had a sufficient number of its nine lives left to enable it to get clear off, and cheat its gallant destroyer of his lawful spoil--the skin.

“One day, when eating my humble dinner, I was interrupted by the arrival of several natives, who, in breathless haste, related that an _Ongeama_, or Lion, had just killed one of their Goats close to the mission station (Richterfeldt), and begged of me to lend them a hand in destroying the beast. They had so often cried ‘Wolf!’ that I did not give much heed to their statements; but, as they persisted in their story, I at last determined to ascertain its truth. Having strapped to my waist a shooting-belt containing the several requisites of a hunter--such as bullets, caps, knife, &c.--I shouldered my trusty double-barrelled gun (after loading it with steel-pointed balls), and followed the men.

“In a short time we reached the spot where the Lion was believed to have taken refuge. This was in a dense tamarisk brake of some considerable extent, situated partially on and below the sloping banks of the Swakop, near to its junction with the Omutenna, one of its tributaries.

“On the rising ground above the brake in question were drawn up in battle array a number of Damaras and Namaquas, some armed with assegais, and a few with guns. Others of the party were in the brake itself, endeavouring to oust the Lion.

“But as it seemed to me that the ‘beaters’ were timid, and moreover somewhat slow in their movements, I called them back, and, accompanied by only one or two persons, as also a few worthless Dogs, entered the brake myself. It was rather a dangerous proceeding, for in places the cover was so thick and tangled as to oblige me to creep on my hands and knees, and the Lion in consequence might easily have pounced upon me without a moment’s warning. At that time, however, I had not obtained any experimental knowledge of the old saying, ‘A burnt child dreads the fire,’ and therefore felt little or no apprehension.

“Thus I had proceeded for some time when suddenly, and within a few paces of where I stood, I heard a low, angry growl, which caused the Dogs, with hair erect in the manner of Hogs’ bristles, and with their tails between their legs, to slink behind my heels. Immediately afterwards, a tremendous shout of ‘Ongeama, Ongeama!’ was raised by the natives on the bank above, followed by a discharge of firearms. Presently, however, all was still again, for the Lion, as I subsequently learnt, after showing himself on the outskirts of the brake, had retreated into it.

“Once more I attempted to dislodge the beast; but finding the enemy awaiting him in the more open country, he was very loth to leave his stronghold. Again, however, I succeeded in driving him to the edge of the brake, where, as in the first instance, he was received with a volley; but a broomstick would have been equally efficacious as a gun in the hands of these people, for, out of a great number of shots that were fired, not one seemed to have taken effect.

“Worn out at length by my exertions, and disgusted beyond measure at the way in which the natives bungled the affair, I left the tamarisk brake, and, rejoining them on the bank above, offered to change places with them. But my proposal, as I expected, was forthwith declined.

“As the day, however, was now fast drawing to a close, I determined to make one other effort to destroy the Lion, and should that prove unsuccessful, to give up the chase. Accordingly; accompanied by only a single native, I again entered the brake in question, which I examined for some time without seeing anything; but on arriving at that part of the cover we had at first searched, and when in a spot comparatively free from bushes, up suddenly sprang the beast within a few paces of me. It was a black-maned Lion, and one of the largest I ever remember to have encountered in Africa. But his movements were so rapid, so silent, and smooth withal, that it was not until he had partially entered the thick cover (at which time he might have been about thirty paces distant) that I could fire. On receiving the ball he wheeled short about, and with a terrific roar, bounded towards me. When within a few paces he crouched as if about to spring, having his head embedded, so to say, between his fore-paws.

“Drawing a large hunting-knife, and slipping it over the wrist of my right hand, I dropped on one knee, and, thus prepared, awaited his onset. It was an awful moment of suspense, and my situation was critical in the extreme. Still my presence of mind never for a moment forsook me--indeed, I felt that nothing but the most perfect coolness and absolute self-command would be of any avail.

“I would now have become the assailant; but as--owing to the intervening bushes, and clouds of dust raised by the Lion’s lashing his tail against the ground--I was unable to see his head, while to aim at any other part would have been madness, I refrained from firing. Whilst intently watching his every motion, he suddenly bounded towards me; but whether it was owing to his not perceiving me--partially concealed as I was in the long grass--or to my instinctively throwing my body on one side, or to his mis-calculating the distance in making his last spring, he went clear over me, and alighted on the ground three or four paces beyond. Instantly, and without rising, I wheeled round on my knee, and discharged my second barrel, and as his broadside was then towards me, lodged a ball in his shoulder, which it completely smashed. On receiving my second fire he made another and more determined rush at me; but owing to his disabled state, I happily avoided him. It was, however, only by a hair’s breadth, for he passed me within arm’s length. He afterwards scrambled into the thick cover beyond, where, as night was then approaching, I did not deem it prudent to pursue him.

“At an early hour on the next morning, however, we followed his ‘spoor,’ and soon came to the spot where he had passed the night. The sand here was one patch of blood, and the bushes immediately about were broken and beaten down by his weight, as he had staggered to and fro in his effort to get on his legs again. Strange to say, however, we here lost all clue to the beast. A large troop of Lions that had been feasting on a Giraffe in the early morning had obliterated his tracks; and it was not until some days afterwards, and when the carcase was in a state of decomposition, that his death was ascertained. He breathed his last very near to where we were ‘at fault,’ but in prosecuting the search we had unfortunately taken exactly the opposite direction.”