At This The Terrified Baboo In
Charge Of The Telegraph Instrument Below Sent The
Following Laconic Message To The Traffic Manager:
"Lion Fighting With Station.
Send urgent succour."
Fortunately he was not victorious in his "fight
with the station"; but he tried so hard to get in
that he cut his feet badly on the iron sheeting,
leaving large blood-stains on the roof.
Another
night, however, he succeeded in carrying off the
native driver of the pumping-engine, and soon
afterwards added several other victims to his list.
On one occasion an engine-driver arranged to sit
up all night in a large iron water-tank in the hope
of getting a shot at him, and had a loop-hole cut in
the side of the tank from which to fire. But as
so often happens, the hunter became the hunted;
the lion turned up in the middle of the night,
overthrew the tank and actually tried to drag
the driver out through the narrow circular hole
in the top through which he had squeezed in.
Fortunately the tank was just too deep for the
brute to be able to reach the man at the bottom;
but the latter was naturally half paralysed with
fear and had to crouch so low down as to be
unable to take anything like proper aim. He
fired, however, and succeeded in frightening the
lion away for the time being.
It was in a vain attempt to destroy this pest
that poor Ryall met his tragic and untimely end.
On June 6, 1900, he was travelling up in his
inspection carriage from Makindu to Nairobi,
accompanied by two friends, Mr. Huebner and
Mr. Parenti.
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