As The Lion Turned
To Follow Him, He Came Broadside On To Me, And
Just As He Had Roshan Khan Within Striking
Distance And Was About To Seize Him, He Dropped
In The Middle Of What Would Otherwise Assuredly
Have Been The Fatal Spring - Bowled Over With A
Broken Shoulder.
This gave me time to run up
and give him a final shot, and with a deep roar
he fell back full length on the grass,
stone-dead.
I then looked round to see if Roshan Khan
was all right, as I was not sure whether the lion
had succeeded in mauling him or not. The sight
that met my eyes turned tragedy into comedy
in an instant, and made me roar with laughter;
indeed, it was so utterly absurd that I threw
myself down on the grass and rolled over and
over, convulsed with uncontrollable mirth. For
there was Roshan Khan, half-way up a thorn tree,
earnestly bent on getting to the very topmost
branch as quickly as ever he could climb; not
a moment, indeed, was he able to spare to cast
a glance at what was happening beneath. His
puggaree had been torn off by one thorn, and
waved gracefully in the breeze; a fancy waistcoat
adorned another spiky branch, and his long white
cotton gown was torn to ribbons in his mad
endeavour to put as great a distance as possible
between himself and the dead lion. As soon as
I could stop laughing, I called out to him to come
down, but quite in vain.
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