In 1843, Livingstone, the celebrated traveller, settled as a missionary
in Mabtosa, a beautiful valley in South Africa. Here he met with an
adventure which nearly terminated his earthly career.
The natives of Mabtosa had long been troubled by lions, which invaded
their cattle-pens by night, and even attacked the herds during the day.
These poor people, being very ignorant and superstitious, thought that
the inroads of the lions were caused by witchcraft. It was perhaps for
this reason that all their attempts to drive away the animals were
feeble and faint-hearted, and therefore unsuccessful.
It is well known that a troop of lions will not remain long in any
district where one of their number has been killed. So the next time
the herds of Mabtosa were attacked, Livingstone went out with the
natives to encourage them to destroy one of the marauders, and thus
free themselves from the whole troop. They found the lions on a small
hill covered with wood. The hunters placed themselves in a circle round
the hill, and began to ascend, coming gradually closer to each other as
they approached the summit.
Livingstone remained, along with a native teacher, on the plain below,
to watch the manœuvres of the party. His companion, seeing one of the
lions sitting on a piece of rock within the circle of hunters, took aim
and fired; but the ball only struck the stones at the animal’s feet.
With a roar of rage the fierce brute bounded away, broke through the
ring, and escaped unhurt, the natives not having the courage to stand
close and spear him as he passed.
The band again closed in and resumed their march. There were still two
lions in the wood, and it was hoped that fortune would favor a second
attempt to destroy one of them. But suddenly a terrific roar echoed
from the hill, and the timid hunters quaked with fear. First one of
the lions, and then the other, with streaming manes and glaring eyes,
rushed down through the wavering ranks, and bounded away, free to
continue their devastations.
As the party were returning home, bewailing their want of success,
Livingstone observed one of the lions about thirty yards in front,
sitting on a rock behind a bush. Raising his gun, he took steady aim,
and discharged both barrels into the thicket. “He is shot! He is shot!”
was the joyful cry; and some of the men were about to rush in and
despatch the wounded beast with their spears. But Livingstone, seeing
the lion’s tail erected in anger, warned them to keep back until he
had fired a second time. He was just in the act of reloading, when,
hearing a shout of terror, he looked round and saw the lion preparing
to spring. It was too late to retreat. With a savage growl the frenzied
animal seized him by the shoulder, and shook him as a terrier shakes
a rat. The shock caused a momentary anguish, followed by a sort of
drowsiness, in which he had no sense of pain nor feeling of terror,
though he knew all that was happening.
[Illustration]
The lion’s paw was resting on the back of his head, and as he turned
round to relieve himself of the pressure, he saw the creature’s fiery
eyes directed to the native teacher, who, at a distance of ten or
fifteen yards, was making ready to shoot. The gun missed fire in both
barrels; and the lion sprang at his new assailant, and bit him in the
thigh. Another man also, who was standing near, was severely bitten in
the shoulder; but at this moment the bullets took effect, and the huge
beast fell back dead.
All this occurred in a few seconds: the death-blow had been inflicted
before the animal sprang upon his assailants. Livingstone’s arm was
wounded in eleven places, and the bone crushed into splinters; and the
injuries might have proved fatal but for his tartan jacket, which wiped
the poison from the lion’s teeth before they entered the flesh.
It was long ere the wounds healed, and all through life the intrepid
missionary bore the marks of this dreadful encounter. Thirty years
afterwards, when his noble and useful career had ended among the swamps
of Central Africa, and his remains were taken to England to be interred
in Westminster Abbey, the crushed and mangled arm was one of the marks
which enabled his sorrowing friends in that country to identify the
body as that of David Livingstone.
_Word Exercise._
resumed (_re-zūmd´_)
West´ min-ster
in-trep´id
ī-dĕn´tĭ-fy
dĕv-as-tā´tions
marauders (_ma-raw´ders_)
as-sail´ants
ĭg´no-rant
sū-per-stĭ´tious (_-stish´us_)
be-wail´ing
Mab-tō´sa
drow´si-ness
ad-vent´ure
_Phrase Exercise._
1. Settled as a missionary.--2. Terminated his earthly
career.--3. Attacked the herds.--4. Feeble and
faint-hearted.--5. To watch the manœuvres.--6. _A terrific roar
echoed_ from the hill.--7. _Quaked_ with fear.--8. Streaming
manes.--9. Wavering ranks.--10. Bewailing their want of
success.--11. Steady aim.--12. _Discharged_ both barrels.--13.
A shout of terror.--14. Momentary anguish.--15. Dreadful
encounter.