THE CAT FAMILY--THE LION.
THE LION--Its Geographical Distribution at the Present Day and in
Ancient Times--Its Haunts--Varieties of the Lion--Distinction between
the Lion and other Cats--Its Courage, Speed, and Strength--Its
Roar--Its supposed Magnanimity--Its Habits--Man-eating--Occasional
resort to Vegetable Diet--Love-making--The Lion-cubs and their
Education--Old Age--Breeding in Captivity--Lion-hunting.
THE LION.[7]
The “King of Beasts” must, of course, be placed at the head of our list
of beasts of prey, for although he is excelled in size and ferocity
by the Tiger, in elegance of form by the Leopard and Jaguar, and in
beauty of colouring by most of the great Cats, yet it would be useless,
even if it were advisable, to depose him from the throne he has, by
the universal consent of mankind, so long occupied. And, truly, who
would wish to uncrown him? He is anything but an amiable beast--cruel
and cowardly, greedy, treacherous, noisy, and self-asserting, never
forgetful of the “divine right of kings” to prey upon their subjects;
but still he is quite on a level, in the matters of morality and
fitness to reign, with a very large proportion of his brother
sovereigns of the genus _Homo_, with whom he well deserves a place in
that limbo where, according to the mildly-spiteful poet of Olney, dwell
“all that ever reigned” of the kings of men.
The Lion is entirely confined to the Old World, where it ranges through
Africa from Barbary to Cape Colony, and extends into the south-west
corner of Asia, where its range just overlaps that of the Tiger. Except
in this “debateable land” the two monarchs keep clear of one another,
the Lion keeping court over Africa and South-west Asia, and the Tiger
ruling in Southern and Eastern Asia, the most important pretender in
either kingdom being the Leopard.
With respect to the subject of distribution of the Lion in ancient
times, we will quote from a late able writer. “That Lions were once
found in Europe there can be no doubt. Thus it is recorded by
Herodotus that the baggage camels of the army of Xerxes were attacked
by Lions in the country of the Pæonians and Crestonœi, on their march
from Acanthus (near the peninsula of Mount Athos) to Therme, afterwards
Thessalonica (now Salonika). The camels alone, it is stated, were
attacked, other beasts remaining untouched as well as men. The same
historian also observes that the limits in Europe within which Lions
were then found were the Nessus or Nestus, a Thracian river running to
Abdera, and the Achelous, which waters Acarnania. Aristotle mentions
Europe as abundant in Lions, and especially in that part which is
between the Achelous and Nessus, apparently copying the statement of
Herodotus. Pliny does the same, and adds that the Lions of Europe are
stronger than those of Africa and Syria. Pausanias copies the same
story as to the attack of the Lions on the Camels of Xerxes; and he
states, moreover, that Lions often descended into the plains at the
foot of Olympus, which separates Macedonia from Thessaly, and that
Polydamas, a celebrated athlete, a contemporary of Darius Nothus, slew
one of them, although he was unarmed. The passage in Oppian, which some
have considered as indicating the existence of Lions up to the banks
of the Danube, fails, as an authority, for placing the Lion in that
locality, because, as Cuvier observes, the context shows plainly that
the name of Ista is there applied to an Armenian river, either by an
error of the author or of the transcribers.”
Nor is Europe the only part of the world from which the form of the
Lion has disappeared. Lions are no longer to be found in Egypt,
Palestine, or Syria, where they were once evidently far from uncommon.
The frequent allusion to the Lion in Scripture, and the various Hebrew
terms there used to distinguish the different ages and the sex of the
animal, prove a familiarity with the habits of the race. Even in Asia
generally, with the exception of some countries between India and
Persia, and some districts of Arabia, these magnificent beasts have
become comparatively rare; and this is not to be wondered at. To say
nothing of the immense draughts on the race for the Roman arena--and
they were not inconsiderable, for there were a thousand Lions killed
at Rome in the space of forty years--population and civilisation have
gradually driven them within narrower limits, and their destruction
has been rapidly worked in modern times since firearms have been used
against them instead of the bow and the spear. The African Lion is
annually retiring before the persecution of man farther and farther
from the Cape. Mr. Bennett[8] says of the Lion: “His true country is
Africa, in the vast and untrodden wilds of which, from the immense
deserts of the North to the trackless forests of the South, he reigns
supreme and uncontrolled.” In the sandy deserts of Arabia, in some of
the wild districts of Persia, and in the jungles of Guzerat, in India,
he maintains a precarious footing; but from the classic soil of Greece,
as well as from the whole of Asia Minor, both of which were once
exposed to his ravages, he has been utterly dislodged and extirpated.
The fearful custom, so common afterwards among the Romans, of having
many encaged Lions, “fierce with dark keeping,” to use Bacon’s
expression, for judicial as well as sporting purposes, was evidently an
old custom in the East; for we learn from the book of Daniel that the
kings of Babylon kept a “den of Lions” into which offenders were thrown
alive. Judging, however, from the Biblical narrative, the Chaldeans had
a far less revolting manner of killing criminals than the Romans, for
they seem to have used the Lions simply as executioners; to have cast
in the victim, and then to have fastened up the entrance of the den,
drawing a decent veil on the horrible scene taking place within. They
did not, like the Romans, curry favour with the masses by making the
death of their victims into a spectacle, at which all classes had their
love of excitement gratified by the sight of men and women torn and
mangled and devoured by raging beasts, to the accompaniment of small
talk and flirtation.
As to the former occurrence of the Lion in places where it is now
absent, we may instance its evident commonness in Palestine. One of the
earliest Lion stories occurs in the history of the Hebrew Hercules,
who, when travelling with his father and mother to Timnath, “came to
the vineyards of Timnath: and, behold, a young Lion roared against him.
And the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him, and he rent him as
he would have rent a kid, and he had nothing in his hand: but he told
not his father or his mother what he had done.”[9]
Every one will remember David’s account of his encounter with the tawny
savage in the Syrian pasture lands. “And David said unto Saul, Thy
servant kept his father’s sheep, and there came a Lion, and a Bear,
and took a Lamb out of the flock: and I went out after him, and smote
him, and delivered it out of his mouth: and when he arose against me, I
caught him by his beard, and smote him, and slew him. Thy servant slew
both the Lion and the Bear.”[10]
[Illustration: LION OF SENEGAL.]
Another Lion-slayer is one of David’s “braves”--Benaiah--“He went down
also and slew a Lion in the midst of a pit in time of snow.”[11] Now
this slight mention of the forest-king is a perfect picture in a few
short words. In that land of milk and honey there was snow at certain
seasons, and then that huge, bearded Cat was fain to hide himself in
some cleft of the rock. If, however, the term “pit” means one in which
the Lion has fallen, being entrapped, the short snatch of history loses
none of its interest. The calm courage of this man made him to be “more
honourable than the thirty mighty men,” in the list of David’s captains.
After the deportation of the ten tribes to Babylon, the number of Lions
and other beasts of prey must have increased to a fearful extent in
Palestine, for we find the men sent by the King of Assyria to re-people
the deserted cities, complaining to their monarch of the ravages of
these beasts which, as they put it, had been sent “because they knew
not the manner of the God of the land.”
As to the favourite haunts of the Lion in the various countries where
it exists, “that Lions exist in the desert,” says M. Carette, “is
a myth popularised by the dreams of artists and poets, and has no
foundation but in their imagination. This animal does not quit the
mountains where it finds shelter, food, and drink. When the traveller
questions the natives concerning these wild beasts, which Europeans
suppose to be their companions in the desert, they reply, with
imperturbable _sangfroid_, ‘Have you, then, Lions in your country which
can drink air and eat leaves? We fear only the viper, and, in humid
spots, the innumerable swarms of mosquitos which abound there.’”[12]
But the sacred writer makes him come up from the “swellings of Jordan;”
and with Homer he is the Mountain Lion: the “artists and poets” of
M. Carette are _moderns_, who know but little of the subject; not
_ancients_ who were familiar with the beast.
[Illustration: LION OF BARBARY.]
When an animal has a wide geographical distribution it is almost always
found that it exhibits, in different parts of its range, more or less
well-marked varieties, distinguished from one another by evident though
sometimes unimportant characters. This is the case with the Lion, of
which five varieties are usually distinguished, three being found in
Africa, and two in Asia. These varieties, or races, are as follows:--
1. _The Lion of Barbary._--The fur is of a deep yellowish-brown colour,
and the mane is more developed than in any other variety, forming long
tresses which cover the neck and shoulders, and are continued along the
belly and the inside of the legs. This variety extends over the whole
of Africa north of the Sahara.
2. _The Lion of Senegal_ is found in the western part of Africa, south
of the Sahara. Its fur is of a lighter colour than that of the Barbary
Lion, and the mane is less thick, and hardly at all developed over the
breast and insides of the legs.
3. _The Lion of the Cape_ ranges over the whole of South Africa, and
is said to be found under two lesser varieties, one yellowish in
colour, and the other brown: the latter is considered to be the more
formidable. The mane is darker than in either of the foregoing kinds.
The Asiatic varieties are smaller than the kinds found in Africa.
The mane is variable, and the form less graceful than in the Cape or
Barbary Lion.
4. _The Persian or Arabian Lion._--This is a paler variety found in
Western Asia.
5. _The Lion of Guzerat_, or so-called “maneless Lion,” is usually
stated to be the best-marked variety of all, as its mane, though by no
means absent, as the name of the variety would lead us to suppose, is
very much less than in any other kind; the body also is bulkier and the
legs shorter. Some writers, however, deny altogether the distinctness
of the variety, and consider that the mistake of considering the
Guzerat Lion as such, has arisen from the fact of young specimens
having been described. The strongest statements we have met with on
this head are by Captain Harris, whose words we will quote, as they
show how little reliance is to be placed on the distinction drawn by
travellers between closely-allied varieties or species. Harris says
that the South African Lion does not differ “in any material points
from those found in Guzerat, in Western India, measuring between ten
and eleven feet in extreme length, but generally possessing a finer
mane, a peculiarity which is attributable to the less jungly character
of the country he infests, and to the more advanced age which he is
supposed to attain. Amongst the Cape colonists it is a fashionable
belief that there are two distinct species of the African Lion--the
yellow and the black--and that the one is infinitely less ferocious
than the other. But I need scarcely inform the well-instructed reader
that both the colour and the size depend chiefly upon the animal’s
age; the development of the physical powers, and of the mane also,
being principally influenced by a like contingency. That which has
been designated the ‘maneless Lion of Guzerat’ is nothing more than a
young Lion whose mane has not shot forth; and I give this opinion with
less hesitation, having slain the ‘king of beasts’ in every stage from
whelphood to imbecility.”
There has been no attempt to divide the above-named varieties into
distinct species. From Linnæus to Dr. Gray, all zoologists agree in
this matter. Hence we see that animals do not vary under domestication
only; but _wild_ creatures also have their varieties or races,
differing in the various localities in which they are found.
All these varieties together form a very well-marked species of the
genus _Felis_, and are known as _Felis leo_, in zoological language.
Some authors, however, as we have already noticed, prefer to consider
the various kinds of Cat as so many distinct genera, and speak of the
Lion as a single genus and species (_Leo nobilis_). The species, or
genus--for it matters very little which we call it--is distinguished
from other Cats by its uniform tawny colour, the tuft of hair at the
end of the tail, and the flowing mane, which clothes the head, neck,
and shoulders of the male. The head of the Lion is more square than
that of the other species of Cats. The mane is entirely absent in the
female, which is, in consequence, a comparatively ordinary-looking
animal, as it is only by the grandeur of his hirsute appendage that the
male is compensated for his plain colouring. The addition of the mane,
however, gives him an immense advantage over all other species, adding
to his apparent size, especially to that of the head, increasing almost
infinitely the beauty of his form, and altogether making him one of the
most magnificent objects in the animal kingdom. A further distinction
between the Lion and other Cats is to be found in the strong tuft of
hair at the end of the tail, which exists in both sexes. Quite at the
extremity of the tail, and hidden by the tuft, is a curious little
horny appendage or “thorn” with which it was supposed that the Lion,
when lashing his tail, spurred his flanks, and so awoke all his courage
and ferocity!
We have just mentioned the uniform tawny colour as characteristic of
the Lion. This is so, in fact, in adult specimens, but the new-born
young are invariably spotted, and the spots often persist for a
considerable time. This is the case with Lions born in captivity, as
well as with those in a state of nature, and has often been observed in
the Lions born in the Zoological Gardens. In some instances the spots
are visible during the animal’s life. There are grounds for believing
that all the great Cats are descended from a spotted ancestor.
One more external character: the snout of the Lion is longer and more
Dog-like than that of any other Cat; the forehead and nose are almost
in the same straight line, instead of making a bold curve, as they do
in the Tiger, Leopard, Jaguar, and the smaller Cats. So that the Lion,
which is conventionally represented with an almost human roundness of
face, has really a more thoroughly quadrupedal “muzzle” than any of his
kin.
In the Cape Lion the tail tuft is black, the mane brown or black,
according to age, and the handsome appearance of the animal is thus
much enhanced. There is also a black spot at each corner of the mouth.
The size varies slightly in the different varieties. Captain
Harris gives the measurements of an adult male from the Cape as
follows:--Extreme length from snout to tip of tail, usually about
ten feet; tail, three feet; height at the shoulder, three feet eight
inches. The “maneless” Lion is somewhat smaller, as shown by the
following measurements made by Captain Smee:--Length, including the
tail, eight feet nine inches and a half; height (at the shoulder, we
suppose), three feet six inches; and the impression of his paw measured
six inches and a half across. A female, killed at the same time, was
eight feet seven inches long, and three feet four inches high. The
weight of the male (excluding the entrails) was thirty-five stone.
The _real size_ of the Lion is much less than would be supposed before
measurement; and he is very inferior in size to many kinds of the
Herbivorous animals, such as Horses, Oxen, and Buffaloes, and even the
larger Antelopes, such as the Eland.
As to the internal structure of the Lion, there is really nothing,
or almost nothing, to add to what has already been said under the
character of the whole family. Like all the great beasts of prey, the
Tiger, Leopard, &c., the osseous and muscular systems are immensely
developed. The ridges of the bones take on a marvellous size for the
attachment of the muscles, and in the skull the size of the great
processes to which the muscles of the neck are attached, and the width
of the jugal arches, or bony bridges under which pass the great muscles
by which the lower jaw is closed, and the powerful bite given, are very
remarkable.
It is curious to see what wonderfully different impressions are
produced on different writers by the appearance of the Lion in his
native haunts. For instance, Captain Harris says, “Those who have
seen the monarch of the forest in crippling captivity only, immured
in a cage barely double his own length, with his sinews relaxed by
confinement, have seen but the shadow of that animal which ‘clears the
desert with his rolling eye.’”
On the other hand, Livingstone speaks in the most disrespectful, not to
say contemptuous way, of the animal’s vaunted majesty of bearing: “When
a Lion is met in the daytime, a circumstance by no means unfrequent
to travellers in these parts, if pre-conceived notions do not lead
them to expect something very ‘noble’ or ‘majestic,’ they will see
merely an animal somewhat larger than the biggest Dog they ever saw,
and partaking very strongly of the canine features. The face is not
much like the usual drawings of a Lion, the nose being prolonged like
a Dog’s; not exactly such as our painters make it, though they might
learn better at the Zoological Gardens; their ideas of majesty being
usually shown by making their Lions’ faces like old women in nightcaps.
When encountered in the daytime, the Lion stands a second or two
gazing, then turns slowly round, and walks as slowly away for a dozen
paces, looking over his shoulder; then begins to trot, and, when he
thinks himself out of sight, bounds off like a Greyhound.”
The concluding sentence of this passage shows that Livingstone
considers not only the Lion’s beauty to have been over-rated, but his
courage also. The following extract quite bears out this opinion:--
“On riding briskly along early one morning, I observed, as I thought,
a solitary Zebra a few hundred yards in advance. I instantly alighted,
and, leaving ‘Spring’ (his horse) to take care of himself, I made
towards the quarry, gun in hand, under cover of a few small trees.
Having proceeded for some distance, I peeped cautiously from behind a
bush, when I found, to my astonishment, that the animal which I had
taken for a Zebra was nothing less than a noble Lion. He was quietly
gazing at me. I must confess I felt a little startled at the unexpected
apparition; but, recovering quickly from my surprise, I advanced to
meet him. He, however, did not think fit to wait till I was within
proper range, but turned tail, and fled towards the Swakess. Hoping to
be able to come to close quarters with him, I followed at the top of my
speed, and was rapidly gaining ground on the brute, when suddenly, with
two or three immense bounds, he cleared an open space, and was the next
moment hidden from view among the thick reeds that here lined the banks
of the river. Having no Dogs with me, all my efforts to dislodge him
from his stronghold proved unavailing. Whilst still lingering about the
place, I came upon the carcase of a Gnu, on which a troop of Lions had,
apparently, been feasting not many minutes previously. Undoubtedly my
somewhat dastardly friend had been one of the party.”
[Illustration: LION AND LIONESS ATTACKING AN ELEPHANT.]
After such rude shocks as these to our faith in the African monarch’s
courage, it is positively refreshing to come across instances where
the Lion has shown himself capable of very great boldness, such, for
instance, as the following:--
“We were waked up suddenly by hearing one of the Oxen bellowing and
the Dogs barking. It was moderately dark, and I seized Clifton’s
double rifle, and rushed out, not knowing where, when I saw the driver
perched on the top of a temporary hut, made of grass, about six feet
high, roaring lustily for a doppè (cap). I scrambled up just as the
poor Ox ceased his cries, and heard the Lions growling and roaring on
the top of him, not more than fourteen yards from where we were, but
it was too dark to see them. I fired, however, in the direction of the
sound, and just above the body of the Ox, which I could distinguish
tolerably well, as it was a black one. Diza (the driver) followed my
example; and, as the Lions did not take the least notice, I fired my
second barrel, and was just proceeding to load my own gun, which Jack
had brought me, when I was aware, for a single instant only, that
the Lion was coming; and the same moment I was knocked half-a-dozen
somersaults backwards off the hut, the brute striking me in the chest
with his head. I gathered myself up in a second, and made a dash at a
fence just behind me, and scrambled through it, gun in hand, but the
muzzle was choked with dirt. I then made for the wagon, and got on the
box, where I found all the Kaffirs, who could not get inside, sticking
like Monkeys, and Diza perched on the top. How he got there seemed to
me a miracle, as he was alongside me when the brute charged. A minute
or two afterwards one of them marched off a Goat, one of five that were
tethered by the foot to the hut that we had so speedily evacuated.
“Diza, thinking he had a chance, fired from the top of the wagon, and
the recoil knocked him backwards on to the tent, which broke his fall.
It was a most ludicrous sight altogether. After that we were utterly
defeated, and the brutes were allowed to eat their meal unmolested,
which they continued to do for some time, growling fiercely all the
while. The Kaffirs said there were five in all. I fired once again, but
without effect; and we all sat shivering with cold without any clothes
on till near daybreak, when our enemies beat a retreat, and I was not
sorry to turn in again between the blankets. I was just beginning to
get warm again when I was aroused by a double shot, and rushed out on
hearing that the driver and after-rider had shot the Lion. We went to
the spot, and found a fine Lioness dead, with a bullet through the ribs
from the after-rider; a good shot, as she was at least 150 yards off.
Another had entered the neck just behind the head, and travelled all
along the spine nearly to the root of the tail. I claimed the shot,
and forthwith proceeded to skin her. I cut out the ball; it proved to
be my shot out of Clifton’s rifle. This accounted for her ferocious
onslaught. The after-rider was rather chopfallen at having to give her
up to the rightful owner.
“Diza got a claw in his thigh, and the gun which he had in his hand
was frightfully scratched on the stock: rather sharp practice. A
strong-nerved old Kaffir woman lay in the hut the whole time, without a
door or anything whatever between her and the Lions, and kept as still
as a Mouse all the while.”
Again:--“The enemy disdainfully surveyed us for several minutes, daring
us to approach with an air of conscious power and pride, which well
beseemed his grizzled form. As the rifle balls struck the ground nearer
and nearer at each discharge, his wrath, as indicated by his glistening
eyes, increased roar, and impatient switching of the tail, was clearly
getting the mastery over his prudence. Presently a shot broke his leg.
Down he came upon the other three with reckless impetuosity, his tail
straight out and whirling on its axis, his mane bristling on end,
and his eyeballs flashing rage and vengeance. Unable, however, to
overtake our Horses, he shortly retreated under a heavy fire, limping
and discomfited to his stronghold. Again we bombarded him, and again
exasperated he rushed into the plain with headlong fury, the blood now
streaming from his open jaws, and dyeing his mane with crimson. It
was a gallant charge, but it was to be his last. A well-directed shot
arresting him in full career he pitched with violence upon his skull,
and throwing a complete somersault, subsided amid a cloud of dust.”
The Lion has some excuse for occasionally developing a strong running
away propensity. His pace when going at full speed is wonderfully
rapid, considering the length of his legs. As the following extract
shows, he is able to outrun a firstrate Horse, so that the animals on
which he usually feeds would, if he chose to pursue them, have simply
no chance whatever against him. As we shall see, however, the Lion
seldom pursues his prey, preferring to lie in ambush and to spring
upon a passing herd. This consideration makes the following experience
rather remarkable. The Lion probably pursued Mr. Baldwin not to satisfy
appetite, but for revenge.
“Now for an adventure with a Lion, which I have reserved for the last.
On Friday the old Masara captain paid me a visit. He had seen a Lion in
the path, and left a lot of Masaras to watch him. I had been working
hard all day in the hot sun with an adze, making a dissel-boom for the
wagon, and was tired, lame, and shaky in the arms, and did not feel
at all up to the mark for rifle-shooting; but I ordered ‘Ferns’ to be
saddled, who was also not at all fresh, having had a tremendous burst
in the morning across a flat after a lean Eland Cow. Just after, I
caught sight of about twenty-five Masaras sitting down, all armed to
the teeth with shields and assegais. My attention was attracted to a
Kaffir skull, which struck me as a bad omen, and the thought entered
my head that it might be my fate to lay mine to bleach there. I did
not, however, suffer this thought to unnerve me, but proceeded, and
found that the Lion had decamped. The Masaras followed his spoor about
a couple of miles, when he broke cover. I did not see him at first,
but gave chase in the direction in which the Masaras pointed, saw him,
and followed for about 1,000 yards, as he had a long start, when he
stood in a nasty thorn thicket. I dismounted at about sixty or seventy
yards, and shot at him. I could only see his outline, and that very
indistinctly, and he dropped so instantaneously that I thought I had
shot him dead. I remounted and reloaded, and took a short circle, and
stood up in my stirrup to catch a sight of him. His eyes glared so
savagely, and he lay crouched in so natural a position, with his ears
alone erect, the points black as night, that I saw in a moment I had
missed him. I was then about eighty yards from him, and was weighing
the chances of getting a shot at him from behind an immense ant-heap,
about fifty yards nearer. I had just put the Horse in motion with that
intention when on he came with a tremendous roar, and ‘Ferns’ whipped
round like a top, and away at full speed. My Horse is a fast one, and
has run down the Gemsbok, one of the fleetest Antelopes, but the way
the Lion ran him in was terrific. In an instant I was at my best pace,
leaning forward, rowels deep into my Horse’s flanks, looking back over
my left shoulder over a hard, flat, excellent galloping ground. On
came the Lion, two strides to my one. I never saw anything like it,
and never want to do so again. To turn in the saddle and shoot darted
across my mind when he was within three strides of me, but on second
thoughts I gave a violent jerk on the near rein, and a savage dig at
the same time with the off-heel, armed with a desperate rowel, just
in the nick of time, as the old manikin bounded by me, grazing my
right shoulder with his, and all but unhorsing me, but I managed to
right myself by clinging to the near stirrup-leather. He immediately
slackened his speed. As soon as I could pull up, which was not all
at once, as ‘Ferns’ had his mettle up, I jumped off, and made a very
pretty and praiseworthy shot, considering the fierce ordeal I had just
passed (though I say it who ought not), breaking his hind leg at 150
yards off, just at the edge of the thicket. Fearful of losing him, as
the Masaras were still flying for bare life over the veldt, with their
shields over their heads, and I knew nothing would prevail on them to
take the spoor again, I was in the saddle, and chasing him like mad in
an instant. His broken leg gave me great confidence, though he went
hard on three legs; and I jumped off forty yards behind him, and gave
him the second barrel--a good shot--just above the root of the tail,
breaking his spine, when he lay under a bush roaring furiously, and
I gave him two in the chest before he cried ‘Enough!’ He was an old
manikin, fat and furious, having only four huge yellow blunt fangs
left.”
Not only has the Lion the advantage of great courage--at least, except
when coming in contact with those he feels to be his masters--and of
great swiftness, but his strength is prodigious. He will fell an Ox
or an Antelope with a single blow of his paw, break its neck with one
crunch of his cruel teeth, and bound off with it to his lair as easily
as if he were only carrying a Rabbit. With a Calf in his mouth he has
been known to leap a wall nine feet high. Not an animal of the forest,
save the Rhinoceros, can hope to escape from such terrible perfections
as these. Any quarry the Lion may choose--Ox, Antelope, or Zebra--is
bound to succumb.
There is another characteristic about the beast which is a valuable
accessory weapon, comparable to the “British cheer,” with which our
soldiers are always supposed to strike terror into the hearts of their
enemies. We mean, of course, the terrible roar--that deafening thunder
voice, at sound of which the Leopard and Hyæna hold their breath in
awe, and the doomed flocks tremble and flee. With man even the noise,
when heard for the first time, produces an indescribable feeling, and
a firm conviction that all his courage will be needed to meet such a
fearful opponent. Sometimes, however, the Lion seems to exercise his
voice for fun, or for practice, rather than for striking terror into
his hearers.
The terror in which the Lion is held by the meaner members of his own
family is well shown by the following passage from Homer. Menelaus and
Ajax hear Ulysses calling for help:--
“---- at the voice arrived, they found
Ulysses, Jove-beloved, compass’d about
By Trojans, as the Lynxes in the hills,
Athirst for blood, compass an antler’d Stag
Pierced by an archer; while the blood is warm
And his limbs pliable, from him he ’scapes;
But when the feather’d barb hath quell’d his force,
In some dark hollow of the mountain’s side,
The hungry troop devour him; chance, the while,
Conducts a Lion thither, before whom
All vanish, and the Lion feeds alone;
So swarm’d the Trojan powers numerous and bold,
Around Ulysses, who with wary skill
Heroic combated his evil day.
But Ajax came, covered with his broad shield
That seemed a tower, and at Ulysses’ side
Stood fast; then fled the Trojans wide-dispersed.”
Shakspere has the same idea, when he says--
“Lions make Leopards tame.”
The magnanimity of the Lion is a very well-worn theme. Every one knows
all about Androcles and the Lion; “the tale is somewhat musty” by this
time. All the older poets have something about it--the writers of the
golden age--before natural selection was thought of, and when animals
of many kinds were credited with a vast amount of idyllic amiability,
of which, alas! nobody believes them capable now.
In the exquisite woodland scenery of “As You Like It,” a hungry Lioness
that has just suckled her whelps, is accredited with a nobility to
which she, assuredly, had no title. “A green and gilded Snake” has been
frightened from the sleeping Oliver by Orlando--
“---- it unlinked itself,
And with indented glides did slip away
Into a bush: under which bush’s shade
A Lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
Lay couching, head on ground, with Cat-like watch,
When that the sleeping man should stir, for ’tis
The royal disposition of that beast
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.”
We are not anxious to know when and how Shakspere gained his knowledge
of wild beasts; we possess his descriptions, and that suffices for us.
He may make Athenians speak like his fellow Englishmen; place Bohemia
by the sea-side, and have the forest of Arden peopled with Lions. All
that is of the least importance; for, may we not say of him, what he
makes Helena say to Hermia?--
“---- your tongue’s sweet air,
[Is] More tuneable than Lark to shepherd’s ear,
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.”
The Lion is a solitary animal, hunting alone, except from the
commencement of the breeding season, when his wife goes with him, up
to the time when the babies are beginning to know how to take care of
themselves. Until they have arrived at months of discretion, “the Lion
tears in pieces enough for his whelps and strangles for his Lionesses,
and fills his holes with prey and his dens with ravine.”
The Lion’s den is made by scraping away the surface of the earth
in some secluded spot, where the beast remains as long as game is
plentiful, and there is no one to disturb him. When he has used up one
hunting-ground, he departs for “fresh woods and pastures new.”
He hunts entirely by night, at which time it is not safe for any one,
in a Lion neighbourhood, to stir out without firearms, for the Lion,
with the laziness which distinguishes him, will always prefer man-meat
caught at once, to Antelope or Zebra-meat, for which he will have
the trouble of looking. In the daytime he spends most of the time
in sleeping off his bloody carouse, and, until nightfall, is always
very unwilling to be disturbed, and unless molested hardly at all
dangerous, except in the breeding season. This seems curious, as, from
the ferocity of the animal when he is attacked, or when he is catering
for himself by night, it savours of the marvellous to talk of such a
savage being harmless under any circumstances. But there can be no
doubt about the fact; he seems to object to expose his actions not only
to the light of day, but also to that of the moon. For this, we have
the testimony of a man whose loss Englishmen have not yet ceased to
deplore; a man who, by universal consent, is _facile princeps_ in the
ranks of African explorers:--
“By day there is not, as a rule, the smallest danger of Lions which
are not molested attacking man, nor even on a clear moonlight night,
except they possess a breeding στοργή (natural affection). This makes
them brave almost any danger. And, if a man happens to cross to the
windward of them, both Lion and Lioness will rush at him, in the manner
of a bitch with whelps. This does not often happen, as I only became
aware of two or three instances of it. In one case a man, passing when
the wind blew from him to the animals, was bitten before he could climb
a tree. And, occasionally, a man on horseback has been caught by the
leg under the same circumstances. So general, however, is the sense of
security, on moonlight nights, that we seldom tied up our Oxen, but
let them lie loose by the wagons. While, on a dark, rainy night, if a
Lion is in the neighbourhood, he is almost sure to venture to kill an
Ox.”[13]
The following passage shows how unusual it is for a Lion to do any
damage by day; so uncommon that the natives consider a supernatural
cause necessary to account for so remarkable an occurrence:--
“The Bakàtla of the village Mabatsa were much troubled by Lions, which
leaped into the cattle-pens by night, and destroyed their Cows. They
even attacked the herds in open day. This was so unusual an occurrence
that the people believed that they were bewitched: ‘given,’ as they
said, ‘into the power of the Lions by a neighbouring tribe.’ They
went once to attack the animals, but, being rather a cowardly people
compared to Bechuanas in general, on such occasions, they returned
without killing any.”
The darker and stormier the night is the better the Lions like it,
and the more persistent will be their attacks. “The new moon brought,
if possible, a more abundant supply of rain than usual; nor did the
Lions fail to take advantage of the nocturnal tempest, having twice
endeavoured to effect an entrance into the cattle-fold. It continued,
until nine o’clock the next morning, to pour with such violence, that
we were unable to open the canvas curtains of the wagon. Peeping out,
however, to ascertain if there was any prospect of its clearing up, we
perceived three Lions squatted within a hundred yards, in open plain,
attentively watching the Oxen. Our rifles were hastily seized, but
the dampness of the atmosphere prevented their exploding. One after
another, too, the Hottentots sprang out of the pack-wagons and snapped
their guns at the unwelcome intruders, as they trotted sulkily away,
and took up their position on a stony eminence at no great distance.
Fresh caps and priming were applied, and a broadside was followed by
the instantaneous demise of the largest, whose cranium was perforated
by two bullets at the same instant. Swinging their tails over their
backs, the survivors took warning by the fate of their companion, and
dashed into the thicket with a roar.”
When a Lion is fortunate enough to live in the neighbourhood of
villages, he naturally prefers the least troublesome course of
selecting his supper from the flocks and herds of the inhabitants.
It is said that in Algeria, some thirty years ago, each Lion, in the
course of his life, cost the Arabs upwards of £8,400, as he destroys
every year Cattle, Horses, Camels, &c., to the value of £240, and the
average duration of a Lion’s life may be taken at thirty-five years.
Thus, Jules Gérard, the celebrated Lion-killer, remarks, that in one
district the Arab who paid five francs a-year to the State, paid fifty
to the Lion!
If there are no farms or villages handy, the Lion has to content
himself with the more troublesome course of catching wild prey. To this
end he lies in ambush, in some convenient spot, and waits patiently
or impatiently until a herd of Antelopes or Zebras passes by, when he
leaps upon one of the number, roaring terribly. He usually strikes the
animal down at once, by the immense weight of his body, the terrible
blow of his paw, and the fearful grip of his teeth in the neck of his
victim. If he misses his aim, he never pursues the flying herd, but
returns dejectedly to his lair and waits for another opportunity. The
Lion’s mode of attack is described with all the marvellous accuracy and
fire of his transcendent genius by the great Grecian:--
“---- as leaps a famish’d Lion fell
On beeves that graze some marshy meadow’s breadth
A countless herd, tended by one unskill’d
To cope with savage beasts in their defence,
Beside the foremost kine or with the last
He paces heedless, but the Lion, borne
Impetuous on the hindmost, one devours
And scatters all the rest.”
“But as the Lion on the mountains bred,
Glorious in strength, when he hath seized the best
And fairest of the herd, with savage fangs
First breaks her neck, then laps the bloody paunch
Torn wide. Meantime, around him, but remote,
Dogs stand and swains clamouring, yet by fear
Repress’d, annoy him not or dare approach.”
The Lion is said sometimes to develop the taste for “man-eating,” which
makes the Tiger so terrible. This, however, is comparatively rare,
except in old animals; but, whether he eats men by choice or not his
depredations are fearfully extensive, especially when he has had a good
deal of experience, knows exactly when to attack a place, and has lost
wholly or in part the fear of man, which usually distinguishes him.
Here is an account of the termination of the career of one of these
heroes, a perfect Dick Turpin among Lions, so great had become his
skill in “lifting”:--
“We had not been many days at that place, when a magnificent Lion
suddenly appeared one night in the midst of a village. A small Dog that
had incautiously approached the beast paid the penalty of its life for
its daring. The next day a grand chase was got up, but the Lion, being
on his guard, managed to elude his pursuers. The second day, however,
he was killed by Messrs. Galton and Bam; and, on cutting him up, the
poor Dog was found, still undigested, in his stomach, bitten into five
pieces. The natives highly rejoiced at the successful termination of
the hunt; for this Lion had proved himself to be one of the most daring
and destructive ever known, having, in a short time, killed upwards of
fifty Oxen, Cows, and Horses. When he had previously been chased he had
always escaped unscathed, and every successive attack made upon him
only served to increase his ferocity.”
That the Lion does not always “drink the blood of the slain,” but
adopts a mild and cooling diet at times, is shown by a remarkable
passage in Dr. Livingstone’s work. He is speaking of the various
vegetable blessings in the desert:--“But the most surprising plant of
the desert is the ‘Kengwe or Kéme’ (_Cucumis caffer_), the water melon.
In years when more than the usual quantity of rain falls, vast tracts
of the country are literally covered with these melons. This was the
case annually when the fall of rain was greater than it is now, and
the Bakwains sent trading parties every year to the Lake. It happens
commonly once every ten or eleven years. For the last three years its
occurrence has coincided with an extraordinarily wet season. Then
animals of every sort and name, including man, rejoice in the rich
supply. The Elephant, true lord of the forest, revels in this fruit,
and so do the different species of Rhinoceros, although naturally so
diverse in their choice of pasture. The various kinds of Antelopes feed
on them with equal avidity; and Lions, Hyænas, Jackals, and Mice, all
seem to know and appreciate the common blessing.”
This is a very curious circumstance when we consider how purely
carnivorous the Lion, in common with the other _Felidæ_, is under
ordinary circumstances. But Dr. Livingstone’s is not the only evidence
to show that the bloodthirsty creature occasionally likes a “relish” of
green-meat with its flesh. We are informed by Dr. Huggins, F.R.S., that
in the Zoological Gardens at Dublin a Lioness had had several litters,
but the young ones invariably languished and died after a short time,
until the expedient was hit upon of supplying the Lioness with live
Goats. This seems horrible enough, but in fact it was not so. The
Goat was put into the cage in the evening, and instead of manifesting
the extreme terror one would have expected, it seemed to feel no fear
at all, but ate grass placed in the den with perfect content, and,
when night came, and it had eaten its fill, lay down by its terrible
companion, cuddling up close to her, chewing the cud, and seeming to
enjoy the warmth, and to be delighted with its new bedfellow. The
Lioness showed no hostility to the confiding beast until towards the
morning, when she suddenly smashed its head with one blow of her
paw, ripped it open, and at once began feeding with avidity on the
paunch, with its contents of softened and half-digested grass, always
completely finishing this “herbaceous treat” before setting to work on
the flesh. It is also stated (_vide infra_) that very old Lions take to
eating grass, thus giving a literal significance to the favourite “Lion
and Lamb” illustration, used by poets of all ages to express the change
by which the “natural man” is converted into the “spiritual man,” the
savage civilised, and the “Philistine” cultured--“The Lion shall eat
straw like the Ox.”
“And now beside thee, bleating Lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee and weep.”
The Lion enjoys the honourable distinction of being, unlike most
Carnivora, strictly faithful to his spouse, although report says that
she is by no means so virtuous, but only cleaves to her mate until a
stronger and handsomer one turns up. Let us hope this is a calumny.
At the breeding season each Lioness is usually followed by a number
of Lions, who try all means in their power to gain her affections,
and fight the most terrible battles with one another. In these fights
the mane is of great use, for its length and thickness prevent the
combatants taking a firm grip of one another’s neck. Thus, the Lion
with the finest mane has the best chance of succeeding in life in two
ways. The Lioness is more likely to take a fancy to him than to a less
favoured suitor, for most of the lower animals, as well as ourselves,
appreciate personal adornment very strongly; and he has also the best
possible protection in the tournament in which he is obliged to take
part, fighting, _à outrance_, against all comers.
[Illustration: THE KISS OF PEACE.]
When the battle is over, and the “queen of love and beauty” has
bestowed the prize--herself--on the victor, the happy pair live
together until the young are able to take care of themselves. The male
often hunts for his mate, and allows her to take as much as she wants
of the prey before satisfying his own hunger. He cares for her in the
same way all the time she is suckling, and for the litter from the time
when they are weaned till they are able to hunt for themselves.
The Lioness goes with young about fifteen or sixteen weeks, and
produces from two to six at a litter. The cubs are delightful little
creatures, about as big as a moderate-sized Cat, blind at first,
with pretty innocent faces, and delightfully playful ways. The
mother is devoted to them; thinks, no doubt, like Celia Chettam, in
“Middlemarch,” that where there are babies “things are right enough,
and that error, in general, is a mere lack of that central posing
force.”
When the cubs are about eight to twelve months old they begin hunting
for themselves, by attacking smaller animals, such as sheep and Goats,
under their parents’ direction. The period between the ages of one and
two years is the worst part of the Lion’s existence, as far as the
inhabitants of the district are concerned, for they “kill not only to
support themselves, but also in order to learn how to kill.”
At the age of three the young Lion’s education is complete; he leaves
his father’s house, and begins to think of getting a house and a wife
for himself, and then in her company he “roars after his prey and seeks
his meat from God” for the rest of his career. He is not full-grown
until the age of eight, when he may be considered as quite adult; and
for many years to come revels in the consciousness of unconquerable
strength and power, and oppresses all inferior creatures to his heart’s
content.
But even to king Leo “life is not all beer and skittles;” there is
suffering and work to be borne and done. The lower creatures “groan
and travail” with us; and we find disease where we should least expect
to find it, namely, in the wild creatures that at their will freely
roam the desert. “The Carnivora, too, become diseased and mangy. Lions
become lean, and perish miserably by reason of the decay of the teeth.
When a Lion becomes too old to catch game, he frequently takes to
killing Goats in the villages. A woman or child happening to go out at
night falls a prey too; and as this is his only source of subsistence
now, he continues it. From this circumstance has arisen the idea that
the Lion, when he has once tasted human flesh, loves it better than any
other. A man-eater is, invariably, an old Lion. And, when he overcomes
his fear of man so far as to come to villages for Goats, the people
remark, ‘His teeth are worn, he will soon kill men.’ They at once
acknowledge the necessity of instant action, and turn out to kill him.
When living far away from population, or when, as is the case in some
parts, he entertains a wholesome dread of the Bushmen and Bakalahari,
as soon as either disease or old age overtakes him, he begins to catch
Mice and other small Rodents, and even to eat grass. The natives,
observing undigested vegetable matter in his droppings, follow up his
trail in the certainty of finding him, scarcely able to move, under
some tree, and despatch him without difficulty. The grass may have been
eaten as medicine, as is observed in Dogs.”
Before leaving the subject of the life and death of our great
Carnivore, it will be as well to add a few words as to its breeding in
captivity. It is stated by a naturalist who probably knows more about
the matter than any other man,[14] that “the Lion appears to breed more
freely than any other species of _Felis_, and the number of young at
a birth is greater, not infrequently four, and sometimes five, being
produced in a litter. It is remarkable that these animals breed more
freely in travelling collections (wild-beast shows) than in zoological
gardens. Probably the constant excitement and irritation produced by
moving from place to place, or change of air, may have considerable
influence in the matter.
“A very extraordinary malformation, or defect, has frequently occurred
among Lions produced during the last thirty years, in the Regent’s
Park. This imperfection consists in the roof of the mouth being open.
The palatal bones do not meet; the animal, is, therefore, unable to
suck, and consequently always dies. This abnormal condition has not
been confined to the young of any one pair of Lions, but many Lions
that have died in the Zoological Gardens, and not in any way related to
each other, have, from time to time, produced these malformed young,
the cause of which appears to me quite unaccountable.”
Lion-hunting has not yet become, like Tiger-hunting, a regularly
organised sport, entered upon at a particular season by large parties
of Europeans, who think far more of the fun of the thing than of
ridding the world of destroying beasts. The sport of Lion-hunting,
on the other hand, is only undertaken by an individual traveller,
now and then, who has to take nearly the whole of the danger on his
own shoulders, and is quite without the extraneous aids afforded by
regiments of Elephant-mounted fellow-hunters, and armies of beaters.
The rest of the Lion-killing is done, not for sport, but for use, to
get rid of a beast which has decimated flocks, and put friends and
neighbours to a cruel death. In all parts where the Lion is found, the
natives have one or more ways of trying to get rid of him: sometimes
meeting him in open fight, sometimes destroying him in a more underhand
manner, by pitfalls, or the like.
Of all methods, that which is attended with the least danger is the
ditch, or pitfall, of the Arabs of Algeria. This is a pit four or five
yards broad, and ten deep, dug in the middle of the _douar_, or small
encampment of from ten to twenty tents, in which the Arabs live during
the winter. The whole douar is surrounded by a hedge, two or three
yards in height, and a lesser hedge is placed round the pit to prevent
the cattle falling into it; the latter being kept loose within the
encampment to attract Lions by their scent and their cries. When the
desirable effect is attained, and a Lion has made up his mind to take
toll from the flock he hears bleating within the enclosure, he leaps
the hedge with one of his tremendous bounds, and, the ditch being a
less distance from the hedge than the horizontal range of his leap,
falls headlong into the trap prepared for him, from which, owing to its
depth, and the fact that it is made narrower above than below, his most
frantic efforts can never succeed in extricating him.
As soon as the Arabs hear his roars, and know that they have their
enemy a prisoner, they prepare a great feast, summon all the
inhabitants of the neighbouring douars, and, proceeding to the pit’s
mouth, every one hurls stones at the poor animal, calling him at the
same time by all the opprobrious names in the Arabic vocabulary, and,
finally, fire upon him until he is dead. When this is the case, they
haul up the carcase with ropes; and, having got their prey on level
ground, “the mothers take each a small piece of the animal’s heart and
give it to their male children to eat, in order to render them strong
and courageous. They take away as much as possible of the mane in order
to make amulets of it, which are supposed to have the same effect.
Then, when the skin has been removed and the flesh divided, each family
goes back to its respective douar, where, in the evening, beneath the
tents, the event of the day will, for a long time, be the favourite
story with every one.”
Besides the pitfall, the Arabs construct ambushes, which are of two
kinds. “In the first a hole is dug, about a yard deep, and three or
four wide. After placing trunks of trees over it, and covering them
with heavy stones, the whole is strewed over with the earth dug out of
the ground, except in a few places on one side, where holes are left
for the men to shoot through, and an opening on the other, which forms
the door of the cavern, and which is closed from the inside by means of
a piece of rock.” A pit of this sort is made in some place frequented
by Lions. The carcase of an animal is put on the ground opposite the
loopholes, and the Arabs get inside and wait until the Lion begins to
try conclusions with the bait, when he is promptly peppered by his
hidden enemies.
In the second kind of ambush, the hunters conceal themselves in a tree
instead of in a pit. Otherwise the mode of procedure is the same.
All these methods of Lion-slaying are safe and sure, but scarcely
heroic. Often, however, the Arabs organise regular hunting parties,
and compass the death of their foe in a far more legitimate and
sportsman-like manner. A party of about fifty usually take part in
the hunt; they proceed, after a good deal of talking over the plan of
operations, to the Lion’s lair, and by the footmarks it is determined
whether the animal in question is young or old, male or female. Five or
six experienced Arabs act as watchmen to observe the movements of the
game, and signal to their comrades. The _modus operandi_ varies with
the age and sex of the Lion. Jules Gérard describes the method when
a full-grown male, of course the worst of all to have to do with, is
diagnosed.
“When the hunters have succeeded in getting within gunshot of the
supposed lair, they ‘turn’ it, so as to command it from the high
ground, and stop directly they command the position, observing
throughout their operations the greatest silence. As the Lion’s sense
of hearing is very delicate, it sometimes happens that he hears the
steps of the hunters, or the rolling of some stone which has been
displaced from the side of the mountain. In this case he rises and
walks in the direction of the sound. If one of the ‘men of the watch’
perceive him, he takes the skirt of his burnous in his right hand, and
hoists it before him, which means ‘I see him.’ One of the huntsmen from
the group then stands forward, and puts himself in communication with
him, shaking his burnous from right to left, which signifies ‘Where
is he?’ and ‘What is he doing?’ If the Lion is still, the ‘man of the
watch’ raises the skirts of his burnous to his head, then lets them
fall, and walks a few steps forwards, repeating the same signal, which
may be translated by ‘He is motionless, in front of you, and at some
distance.’ If the Lion walks to the right or left, the man walks in
the same direction, shaking his burnous either from left to right, or
from right to left. Finally, if the animal proceeds in the direction
of the hunters, the ‘man of the watch’ places himself exactly opposite
them, shakes his burnous violently, and cries with all his might, ‘_Aou
likoum!_’ (‘Take care!’) At this signal the hunters draw themselves up
in a line, if possible against a rock, so that their position may not
be turned. Woe to him who has not heard the cry of ‘_Aou likoum!_’ in
sufficient time, and has stopped at some distance from his comrades.”
When a Lion actually comes in sight, all concealment is, of course,
at an end. The Arabs get as near as possible, to fire, and as soon
as their guns are discharged rush upon the wounded beast with their
pistols and swords. As might naturally be expected the casualties in
this mode of warfare are fearful; hardly a hunt takes place unmarked by
the death of one or more of the hunters.
One of the most daring single combats of which we ever remember to have
read was one between a great black-maned Lion and Mr. C. J. Andersson,
who had all the real part of the fight entirely to himself. The account
is also interesting as showing--like, perhaps, most descriptions of the
same kind--how very tenacious of life the Lion is, for the animal in
question, although it had received the contents of both Mr. Andersson’s
barrels, one of which completely smashed its shoulder, had a sufficient
number of its nine lives left to enable it to get clear off, and cheat
its gallant destroyer of his lawful spoil--the skin.
“One day, when eating my humble dinner, I was interrupted by the
arrival of several natives, who, in breathless haste, related that
an _Ongeama_, or Lion, had just killed one of their Goats close to
the mission station (Richterfeldt), and begged of me to lend them a
hand in destroying the beast. They had so often cried ‘Wolf!’ that I
did not give much heed to their statements; but, as they persisted
in their story, I at last determined to ascertain its truth. Having
strapped to my waist a shooting-belt containing the several requisites
of a hunter--such as bullets, caps, knife, &c.--I shouldered my trusty
double-barrelled gun (after loading it with steel-pointed balls), and
followed the men.
“In a short time we reached the spot where the Lion was believed
to have taken refuge. This was in a dense tamarisk brake of some
considerable extent, situated partially on and below the sloping banks
of the Swakop, near to its junction with the Omutenna, one of its
tributaries.
“On the rising ground above the brake in question were drawn up
in battle array a number of Damaras and Namaquas, some armed with
assegais, and a few with guns. Others of the party were in the brake
itself, endeavouring to oust the Lion.
“But as it seemed to me that the ‘beaters’ were timid, and moreover
somewhat slow in their movements, I called them back, and, accompanied
by only one or two persons, as also a few worthless Dogs, entered the
brake myself. It was rather a dangerous proceeding, for in places the
cover was so thick and tangled as to oblige me to creep on my hands and
knees, and the Lion in consequence might easily have pounced upon me
without a moment’s warning. At that time, however, I had not obtained
any experimental knowledge of the old saying, ‘A burnt child dreads the
fire,’ and therefore felt little or no apprehension.
“Thus I had proceeded for some time when suddenly, and within a
few paces of where I stood, I heard a low, angry growl, which
caused the Dogs, with hair erect in the manner of Hogs’ bristles,
and with their tails between their legs, to slink behind my heels.
Immediately afterwards, a tremendous shout of ‘Ongeama, Ongeama!’ was
raised by the natives on the bank above, followed by a discharge of
firearms. Presently, however, all was still again, for the Lion, as
I subsequently learnt, after showing himself on the outskirts of the
brake, had retreated into it.
“Once more I attempted to dislodge the beast; but finding the enemy
awaiting him in the more open country, he was very loth to leave his
stronghold. Again, however, I succeeded in driving him to the edge of
the brake, where, as in the first instance, he was received with a
volley; but a broomstick would have been equally efficacious as a gun
in the hands of these people, for, out of a great number of shots that
were fired, not one seemed to have taken effect.
“Worn out at length by my exertions, and disgusted beyond measure at
the way in which the natives bungled the affair, I left the tamarisk
brake, and, rejoining them on the bank above, offered to change places
with them. But my proposal, as I expected, was forthwith declined.
“As the day, however, was now fast drawing to a close, I determined
to make one other effort to destroy the Lion, and should that prove
unsuccessful, to give up the chase. Accordingly; accompanied by only
a single native, I again entered the brake in question, which I
examined for some time without seeing anything; but on arriving at
that part of the cover we had at first searched, and when in a spot
comparatively free from bushes, up suddenly sprang the beast within a
few paces of me. It was a black-maned Lion, and one of the largest I
ever remember to have encountered in Africa. But his movements were
so rapid, so silent, and smooth withal, that it was not until he had
partially entered the thick cover (at which time he might have been
about thirty paces distant) that I could fire. On receiving the ball he
wheeled short about, and with a terrific roar, bounded towards me. When
within a few paces he crouched as if about to spring, having his head
embedded, so to say, between his fore-paws.
“Drawing a large hunting-knife, and slipping it over the wrist of
my right hand, I dropped on one knee, and, thus prepared, awaited
his onset. It was an awful moment of suspense, and my situation was
critical in the extreme. Still my presence of mind never for a moment
forsook me--indeed, I felt that nothing but the most perfect coolness
and absolute self-command would be of any avail.
“I would now have become the assailant; but as--owing to the
intervening bushes, and clouds of dust raised by the Lion’s lashing his
tail against the ground--I was unable to see his head, while to aim at
any other part would have been madness, I refrained from firing. Whilst
intently watching his every motion, he suddenly bounded towards me;
but whether it was owing to his not perceiving me--partially concealed
as I was in the long grass--or to my instinctively throwing my body on
one side, or to his mis-calculating the distance in making his last
spring, he went clear over me, and alighted on the ground three or four
paces beyond. Instantly, and without rising, I wheeled round on my
knee, and discharged my second barrel, and as his broadside was then
towards me, lodged a ball in his shoulder, which it completely smashed.
On receiving my second fire he made another and more determined rush
at me; but owing to his disabled state, I happily avoided him. It
was, however, only by a hair’s breadth, for he passed me within arm’s
length. He afterwards scrambled into the thick cover beyond, where, as
night was then approaching, I did not deem it prudent to pursue him.
“At an early hour on the next morning, however, we followed his
‘spoor,’ and soon came to the spot where he had passed the night. The
sand here was one patch of blood, and the bushes immediately about were
broken and beaten down by his weight, as he had staggered to and fro
in his effort to get on his legs again. Strange to say, however, we
here lost all clue to the beast. A large troop of Lions that had been
feasting on a Giraffe in the early morning had obliterated his tracks;
and it was not until some days afterwards, and when the carcase was in
a state of decomposition, that his death was ascertained. He breathed
his last very near to where we were ‘at fault,’ but in prosecuting the
search we had unfortunately taken exactly the opposite direction.”