I fired several shots and shouted myself
hoarse, all without response; and the only
conclusion I could come to was that he had
returned to the camp at the temporary bridge. I
accordingly pushed on, reaching home long after
dark; and there I found Mahina safe and sound,
with the lion's skin already pegged out to dry, so
that I could not find it in my heart to give him
the severe scolding he deserved for having
returned without me. Next morning I packed
up my trophies and returned to my work
at railhead. On my way back I happened to
meet one of the other engineers, who called
out, "Hallo! I hear you have got a fine
line."
My thoughts being full of my adventures of
the day before, I answered: "Yes, I did; but
how on earth did you hear of it?"
"Oh!" he said, "Reynolds told me."
"Good heavens," I replied, "why, he left before
I shot it."
"Shot?" he exclaimed, "whatever do you
mean?"
"Didn't you say," I asked, "that you heard
I had got a fine lion?"
"No, no," was his reply; "a fine line for the
temporary bridge over the river."
We both laughed heartily at the
misunderstanding, and when he saw my trophy, which was being
carried by my man just behind me, he agreed
that it was quite fine enough to monopolise my
thoughts and prevent me from thinking of
anything else.
