As we have now introduced our readers to the lion, we think it but right
to say something about his aspect and character, as given by some of our
best authorities.
Dr Livingstone, that greatest of African travellers, seems to be of
opinion that untravelled men are prone to overrate the lion, both as to
his appearance and courage. From him we learn that when a lion is met
with in the day-time--a circumstance by no means uncommon in Africa--the
traveller will be disappointed with the appearance of the animal which
they had been accustomed to hear styled "noble" and "majestic"; that it
is somewhat larger than the largest-sized dog, partakes very strongly of
the canine features, and does not much resemble our usual drawings of
lions, which he condemns as bearing too strong a resemblance to "old
women's faces in nightcaps." The Doctor also talks slightingly of its
roar, and says that having made particular inquiry as to the opinions of
European travellers who have heard the roar of the lion and that of the
ostrich, he found they invariably admitted that they could not detect
any difference between the two when the animals were at a distance.
Now, really, although we are bound to admit that the Doctor's opinion is
of great weight, we cannot, without a humble protest, allow ourselves to
be thus ruthlessly stripped of all our romantic notions in regard to the
"king of beasts"! We suspect that the Doctor, disgusted with the
"twaddle" that has undoubtedly been talked in all ages about the
"magnanimity" of the "noble" lion and his "terrific aspect," has been
led unintentionally to underrate him. In this land we have
opportunities of seeing and hearing the lion in his captive state; and
we think that most readers will sympathise with us when we say that even
in a cage he has at least a very grand and noble _aspect_; and that,
when about to be fed, his intermittent growls and small roars, so to
speak, have something very awful and impressive, which nothing like the
bellowing of a bull can at all equal. To say that the roar of the
ostrich is equal to that of the lion is no argument at all; it does not
degrade the latter, it merely exalts the former. And further, in regard
to aspect, the illustrations in Dr Livingstone's own most interesting
work go far to prove that the lion is magnificent in appearance.
Thus much we dare venture to say, because on these points we, with all
men, are in a position to form a judgment for ourselves. We, however,
readily believe the great traveller when he tells us that nothing he
ever heard of the lion led him to ascribe to it a noble _character_, and
that it possesses none of the nobility of the Newfoundland or St.
Bernard Dogs. The courage of the lion, although not greater than that
of most large and powerful animals, is, without doubt, quite sufficient!
But he fortunately possesses a wholesome dread of man, else would he
certainly long ere now have become king of Africa as well as of beasts.
When encountered in the day-time, he usually stands a second or two
gazing, then turns slowly round and walks leisurely away for a dozen
paces or so, looking over his shoulder as he goes. Soon he begins to
trot, and, when he thinks himself out of sight, bounds off like a
greyhound. As a rule, there is not the smallest danger of a lion
attacking man by day, if he be not molested, except when he happens to
have a wife and young family with him. Then, indeed, his bravery will
induce him to face almost any danger. If a man happens to pass to
windward of a lion and lioness with cubs, both parents will rush at him,
but instances of this kind ere of rare occurrence.
It would seem that light of any kind has a tendency to scare away lions.
Bright moonlight is a safeguard against them, as well as daylight. So
well is this understood, that on moonlight nights it is not thought
necessary to tie up the oxen, which are left loose by the wagons, while
on dark rainy nights it is deemed absolutely necessary to tether them,
because if a lion chanced to be in the vicinity, he would be almost sure
to attack, and perhaps kill, an ox, notwithstanding the vigilance of
guards and the light of the camp-fires. He always approaches
stealthily, like the cat, except when wounded; but anything having the
appearance of a trap will induce him to refrain from making the last
fatal spring. This is a peculiarity of the whole feline species. It
has been found in India that when a hunter pickets a goat on a plain as
a bait, a tiger has whipped it off so quickly by a stroke of his paw
that it was impossible to take aim. To obviate this difficulty a small
pit is dug, in the bottom of which the goat is picketed, with a small
stone tied in its ear to make it cry the whole night. When the
suspicious tiger sees the appearance of a trap he walks round and round
the pit, thus giving the hunter in ambush a fair shot.
When a hungry lion is watching for prey, the sight of any animal will
make him commence stalking it. On one occasion a man was very busy
stalking a rhinoceros, when, happening to glance behind him, he found to
his consternation that a lion was _stalking him_! he escaped by
springing up a tree.
The strength of the lion is tremendous, owing to the immense mass of
muscle around its jaws, shoulders, and forearms. What one hears,
however, of his sometimes seizing an ox or a horse in his mouth and
running away with it, as a cat does with a mouse, and even leaping
hedges, etcetera, is nonsense. Dr Livingstone says that most of the
feats of strength he has seen performed by lions consisted, not in
carrying, but dragging or trailing the carcass along the ground.
He usually seizes his prey by the flank near the hind leg, or by the
throat below the jaw. He has his particular likings and tit-bits, and
is very expert in carving out the parts of an animal that please him
best. An eland may be sometimes disembowelled by a lion so completely
that he scarcely seems cut up at all, and the bowels and fatty parts of
the interior form a full meal for the lion, however large or hungry he
may be. His pert little follower the jackal usually goes after him,
sniffing about and waiting for a share, and is sometimes punished for
his impudent familiarity with a stroke of the lion's paw, which of
course kills him.
Lions are never seen in herds, but sometimes six or eight--probably one
family--are seen hunting together. Much has been said and written about
the courage of the lion, and his ability to attack and kill any other
animal. His powers in this respect have been overrated. It is
questionable if a single lion ever attacks a full-grown buffalo. When
he assails a calf, the cow will rush upon him, and one toss from her
horns is sufficient to kill him. The amount of roaring usually heard at
night, when a buffalo is killed, seems to indicate that more than one
lion has been engaged in the fight. They never attack any elephants,
except the calves. "Every living thing," writes Livingstone, "retires
before the lordly elephant, yet a full-grown one would be an easier prey
to the lion than a rhinoceros. The lion rushes off at the mere sight of
this latter beast!"
When a lion grows too old to hunt game, he frequently retires to spend
the decline of life in the suburbs of a native village, where he is well
content to live by killing goats. A woman or a child happening to go
out at night sometimes falls a prey also. Being unable, of course, to
alter this style of life, when once he is reduced to it, he becomes
habitually what is styled a "man-eater," and from this circumstance has
arisen the idea that when a lion has once tasted human flesh he prefers
it to any other. In reality a "man-eater" is an old fellow who cannot
manage to get anything else to eat, and who might perhaps be more
appropriately styled a woman and child eater! When extreme old age
comes upon him in the remote deserts, far from human habitations, he is
constrained to appease the cravings of hunger with mice! The African
lion is of a tawny colour, like that of some mastiffs. The mane in the
male is large, and gives the idea of great power. In some the ends of
the hair are black, and these go by the name of black-maned lions, but,
as a whole, all of them look of a tawny yellow colour.
Having said thus much about his general character and appearance, we
shall resume the thread of our story, and show how the lions behaved to
Tom Brown and his friends the very night after the event narrated in the
last chapter.
The hunters had got back to the wagons, and were about to turn in for
the night, in order to recruit for the work of the following day, when
the sky became overcast, and gave every indication of a coming storm. A
buffalo bull had been shot by Pearson an hour before the arrival of our
hero and his companions, and the Caffres were busily engaged on his
carcass. A fire had been lighted, the animal cut up, and part of him
roasted, and the natives alternately ate a lump of roasted flesh and an
equal quantity of the inside raw! When the sky began to darken,
however, they desisted for a time, and set about making preparations for
the coming storm.
It burst upon them ere long with awful fury and grandeur, the elements
warring with incredible vehemence. Rain fell in such floods that it was
scarcely possible to keep the fires burning, and the night was so pitchy
dark that the hand could scarcely be seen when held close to the eyes.
To add to the horror of the scene, crashing peals of thunder appeared to
rend the sky, and these were preceded by flashes of lightning so vivid
that each left the travellers with the impression of being stone-blind.
After an hour or two the storm passed by, leaving them drenched to the
skin. However, the fires were stirred up, and things made as
comfortable as circumstances would admit of.
Just a little before daybreak they were all wakened by the bellowing of
the oxen and the barking of dogs.
"Something there," muttered Hicks, leaping up and seizing his gun.
The major, Tom Brown, Wilkins, Pearson, and the others were immediately
on their feet and wide awake. There was just light enough to
distinguish objects dimly when close at hand; but the surrounding woods
resembled a wall of impenetrable darkness. Close to the wagon in which
our hero lay the natives had erected a temporary hut of grass, about six
feet high. On the top of this he saw a dark form, which, by the sound
of his voice, he recognised to be that of a native named Jumbo, who was
more noted for good nature and drollery than for courage. He was
shouting lustily for a percussion-cap. Tom sprang on the top of the hut
and supplied him with several caps, at the same time exclaiming:--
"Hallo! Jumbo, don't make such a row. You'll scare everything away."
"Ho! Me wish um could," said Jumbo, his teeth chattering in his head
with fear as he listened to the dying groans of a poor ox, and heard the
lions growling and roaring beside him. They were not more than fourteen
yards off, but so dark was the night that they could not be seen. The
ox, however, which was a black one, was faintly distinguishable; Tom
Brown therefore aimed, as near as he could guess, about a foot above him
and fired. No result followed. He had evidently missed. While he was
re-loading, the major and Wilkins rushed forward and leaped on the hut,
exclaiming eagerly, "Where are they? have you hit?" Immediately
afterwards, Pearson, Brand, Ogilvie, and Anson rushed up and attempted
to clamber on the hut.
"No room here," cried the major, resisting them, "quite full outside--
inside not safe!"
"But there's no room on the wagon," pleaded Pearson; "the niggers are
clustering on it like monkeys."
"Can't help it," replied the major, "there's not an inch of--"
Here a tremendous roar interrupted him, and a loud report followed, as
Jumbo and Wilkins, having caught sight of "something" near the carcass,
fired simultaneously. Pearson and his companions in trouble vanished
like smoke, while the major, failing to see anything, fired in the
direction of the lions on chance. Tom also fired at what he felt
convinced was the head of a lioness. Still the animals appeared to be
unhurt and indifferent! The sportsmen were busy loading when Tom became
aware, for one instant, that something was moving in the air. Next
moment he was knocked backwards off the hut, head over heels, several
times, having been struck full in the chest by a lion's head. Half
inclined to believe that he was killed he scrambled to his feet, still
holding fast to his gun, however, like a true hunter, and rushed towards
the wagon, where he found all the Caffres who could not get inside
sticking on the outside, as Pearson had said, like monkeys. There was
literally no room for more, but Tom cared not for that. He seized legs,
arms, and hair indiscriminately, and in another moment was on the top of
the living mass. He had leaped very smartly to this point of vantage,
nevertheless he found Jumbo there before him, chattering worse than
ever! The major and and Wilkins came up breathless next moment,
clambered halfway up, slipped, and fell to the ground with a united
roar; but making a second attempt, they succeeded in getting up.
Wilkins at once presented in the direction of the lions and again fired.
Whether any of them fell is a matter of dispute, but certain it is that
Wilkins fell, for the recoil of the gun knocked him back, his footing
being insecure, and he went down on the top of a tent which had been
pitched on the other side of the wagon, and broke the pole of it. After
this several more shots were fired, apparently without success. While
they were reloading a lion leaped on a goat, which was tethered to the
grass-hut, and carried it away before any one could fire. Not daring to
descend from their places of security, there the whole party sat in the
cold during the remainder of that night, listening to the growling of
the lions as they feasted on their prey. It was not till grey dawn
appeared that the enemy beat a retreat, and allowed the shivering
travellers to get once more between the blankets. They had not lain
long, however, when a double shot aroused them all, and they rushed out
to find that Mafuta had killed a lioness! She was a splendid creature,
and had succumbed to a bullet sent through her ribs. It was found on
examination that another ball had hit her just behind the head, and
travelling along the spine, had stuck near the root of the tail.
"Me no hab fire at head," said Mafuta, with a disappointed look. "Me
hit him in ribs wid wan bar'l, an' miss him wid tother."
"What is that you say?" cried Tom Brown examining the bullet-hole; "ha!
I claim that lioness, because I fired at her head last night, and there
you have the bullet-hole."
"Cut out the ball and see," said Hicks, drawing his knife.
When the ball was extracted it was indeed found to have been fired from
Tom's gun, so, according to sporting law in that region, which ordains
that he who first draws blood claims the game, the lioness was adjudged
to belong to Tom.
Our hero returned to his blankets once more, congratulating himself not
a little on his good fortune, when his attention was arrested by two
shots in succession at no great distance. Seizing his gun he ran to the
place expecting to find that more game had been slain, but he only found
Hardy standing over one of the oxen which was breathing its last. The
lions had driven it mad with terror during the night, and the trader had
been obliged to shoot it. This was a great misfortune, for it was about
the best ox in the train.