It Was The First Occasion
During All These Trying Months Upon Which I Had
Had A Fair Chance At One Of These Brutes, And My
Satisfaction At The Prospect Of Bagging Him Was
Unbounded.
Slowly he advanced along the path, stopping
every few seconds to look round.
I was only
partially concealed from view, and if his attention
had not been so fully occupied by the noise behind
him, he must have observed me. As he was
oblivious to my presence, however, I let him
approach to within about fifteen yards of me,
and then covered him with my rifle. The moment
I moved to do this, he caught sight of me,
and seemed much astonished at my sudden
appearance, for he stuck his forefeet into the
ground, threw himself back on his haunches and
growled savagely. As I covered his brain with
my rifle, I felt that at last I had him absolutely at
my mercy, but . . . . never trust an untried
weapon! I pulled the trigger, and to my horror
heard the dull snap that tells of a misfire.
Worse was to follow. I was so taken aback
and disconcerted by this untoward accident that
I entirely forgot to fire the left barrel, and
lowered the rifle from my shoulder with the
intention of reloading - if I should be given time.
Fortunately for me, the lion was so distracted
by the terrific din and uproar of the coolies behind
him that instead of springing on me, as might
have been expected, he bounded aside into the
jungle again. By this time I had collected my
wits, and just as he jumped I let him have the
left barrel. An answering angry growl told me
that he had been hit; but nevertheless he
succeeded once more in getting clear away, for
although I tracked him for some little distance, I
eventually lost his trail in a rocky patch of
ground.
Bitterly did I anathematise the hour in which
I had relied on a borrowed weapon, and in my
disappointment and vexation I abused owner,
maker, and rifle with fine impartiality. On
extracting the unexploded cartridge, I found that
the needle had not struck home, the cap being
only slightly dented; so that the whole fault did
indeed lie with the rifle, which I later returned
to Farquhar with polite compliments. Seriously,
however, my continued ill-luck was most exasperating;
and the result was that the Indians were
more than ever confirmed in their belief that the
lions were really evil spirits, proof against mortal
weapons. Certainly, they did seem to bear
charmed lives.
After this dismal failure there was, of course,
nothing to do but to return to camp. Before doing
so, however, I proceeded to view the dead donkey,
which I found to have been only slightly devoured
it the quarters. It is a curious fact that lions
always begin at the tail of their prey and eat
upwards towards the head. As their meal had
thus been interrupted evidently at the very
beginning, I felt pretty sure that one or other
of the brutes would return to the carcase at
nightfall.
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