Two Days More Were Spent In
The Same Manner, And With Equal Unsuccess;
And Then Farquhar And His Sepoys Were Obliged
To Return To The Coast.
Mr. Whitehead also
departed for his district, and once again I was
left alone with the man-eaters.
CHAPTER VIII
THE DEATH OF THE FIRST MAN-EATER
A day or two after the departure of my allies,
as I was leaving my boma soon after dawn on
December 9, I saw a Swahili running excitedly
towards me, shouting out "Simba! Simba!"
("Lion! Lion!"), and every now and again looking
behind him as he ran. On questioning him I
found that the lions had tried to snatch a man
from the camp by the river, but being foiled
in this had seized and killed one of the donkeys,
and were at that moment busy devouring it not
far off. Now was my chance.
I rushed for the heavy rifle which Farquhar had
kindly left with me for use in case an opportunity
such as this should arise, and, led by the Swahili,
I started most carefully to stalk the lions, who,
I devoutly hoped, were confining their attention
strictly to their meal. I was getting on splendidly,
and could just make out the outline of one of them
through the dense bush, when unfortunately my
guide snapped a rotten branch. The wily beast
heard the noise, growled his defiance, and
disappeared in a moment into a patch of even
thicker jungle close by. In desperation at the
thought of his escaping me once again, I crept
hurriedly back to the camp, summoned the available
workmen and told them to bring all the tom-toms,
tin cans, and other noisy instruments of
any kind that could be found.
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