There was no use trying to avoid the fact any longer. The lions,
for the present, had left the Sotik country, and by remaining in
camp at the Soda Swamp the Buffalo Jones Expedition was only
wasting time. And time was precious then--was growing more
precious every day--if we expected to finish the work before the
rains.
The lion was the only big game we wanted now to complete the list
of wild animals roped and tied, and the lion was the most
important of all. The expedition had traveled the long journey to
the Sotik country especially to find them. Yet ever since the
capture of the rhinoceros on the moving day of March 20th we had
thoroughly swept the land in the vicinity of the Soda Swamp
without finding even a single spoor.
----
The blurred effect of the unique illustrations to this article is
accounted for by the extreme difficulty of reproducing from a
cinematograph film.
It simply meant that the lions were not there. Some explanations
were offered, some arguments arose as to the whys and wherefores
of this state of affairs. A few maintained that the lions had
always been found there before; it was strange they should have
gone. A theory was advanced that the rains were late and the
country was unusually dry, so that the game had shifted to better
pastures. Perhaps some water hole they depended on had failed.
There is generally some discussion on such occasions. We had
counted so much on the Sotik to give us our chance that the truth
was hard to realize at first. But no matter what the cause might
be, we were finally forced to acknowledge the undeniable
fact--the lions had left the district.
On the evening of March 25 the expedition faced the situation. As
usual, the night fell cold, and when supper was finished the
company collected about the fire that was burning close to the
horses. A light wind stirred in the leaves overhead and the sky
was full of stars. Here and there a tired horse was already half
asleep, and his head nodded gently in the firelight. From the
darkness came the low talk of the saises, rolled in their
blankets on the ground at the end of the picket line.
Most of the men stood with their backs to the flames, gazing
vacantly at the horses, the trees, or the stars. For a while not
a word was said. Means threw another log on the fire and then
squatted on his heels and silently watched the flames catch the
bark and flare up brightly. As the heat increased, Kearton took a
step farther away and stood again. Every one knew that the Sotik
had failed us and that it was time for us to go, and so
eventually when the Colonel spoke he only voiced the general
conclusion.
"We've got to go back," he said, speaking straight in front of
him at the nearest of the sleepy horses. "We've got to go
to-morrow and have a try from the water hole at the Rugged Rocks
where we saw the two lions on the way out here. We may find one
there and we may not. If we don't, we've got to go on to Nairobi
and start all over again--provided the rains don't begin."
Accordingly, through the long hot days the safari plodded back
over the way we had come from the Soda Swamp to Agate's, from
Agate's to the Honeybird River, and then on once more to the Last
Water. The cameras were stowed away on the wagons, the ropes
remained coiled on the saddles, for there was no probability of
our finding lions on the way. And each man rode as his judgment
decreed, because the business of the safari then was to get on
over the road, and the ox-wagons behind came along as best they
could.
For the most part it was a silent journey. The expedition had
turned its back on the district that only a short week ago had
held out such alluring promises, and any day now the rains might
commence effectually to put a stop to the work before it was
done. Then, too--although this may seem to be a small matter,
still it had weight with all of us--the white hunters of the
country had ridiculed the idea of our being able to rope a lion,
and the prospect of returning and admitting defeat without having
been given a proper chance was not pleasant to contemplate.
At the Last Water we outspanned for the night and most of the
succeeding day. In view of the situation, the long halt was
absolutely necessary to give the oxen a good rest and drink
before setting forth on the twenty-four-hour journey without
water to the Rugged Rocks. But throughout the dragging hours of
the enforced rest always there loomed ahead of us the possibility
of failure and the need of haste. No mention was made of this
openly. The only sign of our underlying anxiety was a vague
restlessness pervading the entire safari.
Once on the march again, with the sun low in the west, the
restlessness disappeared. The night came dark, because the moon
rose late, and the air was still, so that the dust that lifted
from beneath the feet of the oxen drifted along with the wagon.
Now and again one of the wheels bumped over a rock in the road
and the brake beam shook and rattled. At times the high-pitched
cries of the native drivers pierced the stillness. Ahead of us
the bulk of the wagon load loomed big against the stars.
When the dying moon first showed red through the branches of the
twisted trees, the safari crossed the top of the Mau and
commenced the slow descent to the valley, and the wagons in front
became lost in the darkness and the dust. When the morning star
rose, we had come to the foothills of the escarpment, and the
dawn wind sprang up cold, so that the men shivered a little in
their saddles and buttoned up their coats and began to talk.
"It was just about here that we caught the giraffe that day,"
said Kearton. "Remember? And wasn't it hot?"
The talk drifted aimlessly, round and about from the western
ranches to Flicker Alley and the London Music Halls, only to
return in the end, as it naturally would, to the water hole at
Rugged Rocks and our chances of finding lion. The discussion was
lengthy on this point--it always was.
By the time the sun came, the expedition had entered the plain of
the Rift Valley, and with the rising of the sun the thirst began.
Toward noon we halted for a couple of hours to allow the worst of
the heat to pass over, gave the horses and the porters a little
of the water that was carried on one of the wagons, and then
inspanned again and went on. As the horsemen took the road the
Colonel outlined his plan.
"We'll give the horses a good rest to-night, for we ought to make
camp early, and then start hunting the first thing in the
morning. We've got enough horse-feed to last us three or four
days if the water holds out that long. In that time we ought to
get a lion if there's any there. I'll ride on now a bit and look
for signs."
The Colonel's horse was a faster walker than the others and
slowly he forged ahead. Little by little the safari began to
string out along the road until wide spaces grew between the
ox-wagons, with the porters straggling after them a mile behind.
A change had come over the valley since we had seen it last. The
land was whiter beneath the blazing sunshine and the dust lay
thicker in the road. Somehow it seemed deserted. The only
movement was the shimmer of the heat waves.
The camera department had the slowest mounts, and as the march
had become a plodding procession, in which the horses were
allowed to choose their own paces, one by one the other members
of the expedition passed us.
Loveless came from behind and rode with us for half a mile or so.
"I've been thinking this thing over," he finally said, "and my
idea is that after the dogs get the lion stopped, one of us can
go by him, rope him, and keep on going, and then the other fellow
can catch him by the hind legs and we've got him. If you keep on
going fast enough, I don't think he'll have a chance to spring at
you."
In the pause that followed the delivery of this opinion on a
matter that had been thrashed out a hundred times before, his
horse gradually carried him farther ahead until he had gone
beyond the range of talk.
Ulyate, the white hunter, was the next. Kearton had just finished
filling his pipe and he silently reached out the bag of tobacco.
But Ulyate shook his head.
"Throat's too dry," he said. "But I want to be sure I understand
what I've got to do. I'm to stand by to protect the cameras and
leave the Colonel and the two boys to look after themselves. If
the lion charges them I'm not to fire--only if he comes at the
cameras."
"That's right--only if he comes at the cameras."
"That's what I thought, but I wanted to make sure--It's a likely
place, this Rugged Rocks," he continued over his shoulder. "We
might easily find one to-morrow."
Means on his big bay borrowed a drink of water from Gobbet's
canteen, and rode on after the others.
The march of the safari grew slower and slower. The road was
flat, bending a little back and forth in long, sweeping curves,
like a rope that was once taut and had been loosened. The native
drivers no longer cried at the oxen, for the beasts knew by
instinct that they were traveling to water and could be relied
upon to do their best; and the men rode with their heads hung
down, watching the shadows of the horses on the road and hoping
to see them lengthen.
The Colonel, the two cowboys, and Ulyate reached the Rugged Rocks
at least an hour ahead, and when the rest of us came straggling
in we found them seated on the ground with their backs to the
bole of a tree. None of them looked up as we halted there,
dismounted, and turned the horses loose. Then Ulyate spoke.
"Water hole has dried," he said.
There was nothing to be done about it. If the water hole had
dried, it had dried. That was all. And we had to push on to
Kijabe. Lions or no lions, there was no appeal from that decree.
So we sat down with the others and watched the progress of the
far-off dust cloud that marked the approaching wagons. Then, when
darkness came again, the safari resumed the march.
But the Colonel refused to abandon his former plan entirely
without making at least one more attempt. Together with the two
cowboys and Kearton, he remained behind to scout at dawn the
district between the Rugged Rocks and the railway.
"We might be able to tell if it's worth while to come back here,"
he explained.
It was nearly noon of the following day before the scouting party
rejoined the expedition on the platform of the Kijabe station.
The party reported that near the base of Longernot, the northern
volcano, a belt of lava rock rises perpendicularly from the
plain. Close to the southern end of this belt they had flushed
two lions, a male and a female, and had kept sight of them for
fully an hour. It was the opinion of all in the party that the
lions lived in the neighborhood, probably in the rocks.
"Very likely," said Ulyate; "no one has ever hunted that corner
of the valley. There is no water there."
At first the Colonel was anxious to start back for them at once,
hauling the water with us; but after a moment's reflection he was
compelled to concede that it was time to call a halt. Means had
strained his back again and could no longer sit straight in the
saddle. An old thorn wound in Loveless's foot needed attention.
Horses, dogs, and oxen were entirely fagged out. And besides, the
camera department demanded time to develop the earlier pictures,
already too long kept in the rolls.
Of course, as the Colonel maintained, the rains might come and
the chance be lost. Also the lions might not live in the rocks,
as we thought, and to-morrow they might be gone.
"Better grab the opportunity while we have it, he said.
"Look at the horses," said Means.
The Colonel walked deliberately along the platform to where the
horses were tethered among the trees, and stood there watching
them for quite a while.
"You're right, Means," he said, when he returned to us. "They'll
need at least four or five days before we can put them at a
lion--well, we've got to chance it."
The next five days were the longest in the history of the
expedition. The Colonel, Means, and Ulyate remained at Kijabe
with the outfit. The rest of us traveled down the line to Nairobi
to procure more porters, more horse-feed, and more supplies; and
every day we watched the weather closely and speculated on the
probabilities of how long the lions would see fit to remain in
the district. The time was so short that all other plans had been
abandoned to take advantage of this one opportunity--the
expedition was plunging, so to speak, on this final chance to
succeed. But the weather held clear, and in the meanwhile the
preparations for this last attempt were pushed with the utmost
speed.
The hunters at Nairobi, together with the storekeepers and
farmers of the vicinity, had heard of the capture of the rhino.
On occasions some of them spoke of it to us. They explained that
they had thought all along that we could undoubtedly rope a
rhino.
"But you haven't got a lion yet, have you?" they said.
On April 5 the preparations were nearly completed and Loveless's
foot was nearly well. So we started up the line to rejoin the
outfit, leaving Gobbet at Nairobi to finish developing the films.
We could not afford to spend more time in preparation. At Kijabe
we found the horses thoroughly rested and Means's back much
improved. He had refused to see a doctor, asserting that his back
would just naturally get better of its own accord. He said he was
ready to start.
With one exception the dogs were in good condition--old John from
Arizona with his scars of many battles, Rastus and The Rake,
taken from a pack of English fox-hounds, and Simba, the terrier,
and the collie clipped like a lion, from the London pound.
Sounder, the American bloodhound, still showed some effects of
distemper. But none of the dogs was to be left behind on this
journey.
That night the ox-wagons were loaded--one with provisions and
camp baggage, the other with drums of water--and when the dawn
first began to break over the top of the range the expedition set
forth from the station. The crater on Longernot had already
caught the first rays of the sun when we reached the bottom of
the hill and started across the flat land of the valley.
There was no road leading to where we were going, nor track, nor
path, of any kind. No safari had ever gone there before. From the
height of Kijabe station we had seen what looked to be a long,
low mound in the distant veldt. The southern end of that long,
low mound was our destination.
The horsemen, as usual, spread out in a widely extended line and
passed in front of the wagons and porters. As we penetrated
farther into the valley the nature of the country altered. Open
parks and stretches of scrub succeeded one another, with here and
there a dry donga cutting deep into the ground. As we approached
the mound it rapidly grew in height and the black rocks commenced
to appear beneath the covering of verdure.
Among the settlers of the district this mound is called the Black
Reef. It is the general opinion that the Black Reef is formed of
lava that long ago flowed down into the plain from the crater of
Longernot. The sides, which rise almost perpendicularly to a
height of some two hundred feet, are composed of jagged blocks of
stone, honeycombed with deep caves and caverns. The top is
covered with thick scrub and creepers and tall, rank grasses. To
the southward it ends abruptly, as though the lava flow had
suddenly stopped and cooled.
Under the shadow of the Black Reef the hunting party was divided
into three parts. The day was too far advanced for any real
hunting to be done, but as long as the light lasted the Colonel
wanted to make a personal survey of the ground in the immediate
vicinity of the rocks. Accordingly he rode to the northern end of
the reef, sending the two cowboys to the plains to the south,
while the rest remained where we had halted, behind the southern
shoulder, to wait for the arrival of the wagons and make camp.
But the only incident of the afternoon was a thunder cloud that
rose up out of the north and hung there, and then gradually
disappeared as the twilight advanced. The others were late in
coming in. The Colonel in the north had found tracks--innumerable
tracks of different kinds of beasts--all excepting those of the
lion. In the south the two cowboys had found a large mixed herd
of game; and Loveless had dismounted to shoot for meat, when out
of the herd a rhino charged him and he had to kill it to save
himself.
"Well, so long as he's dead we'll let him lie where he is," said
the Colonel. "Lions are mighty fond of rhino meat. They'll travel
miles to get it. Day after to-morrow, say just at dawn, we ought
to be able to pick up a fresh trail there. If we don't, it will
mean that the lions are no longer here, that's all."
Loveless grunted some unintelligible comment.
"Might as well be cheerful," said Means. "We're not beat yet."
The first real hunting day commenced at daylight the next
morning. Hour after hour the horsemen traveled the plains, back
and forth, and across and around, and carefully searched the base
of the Black Reef on every side. Only one spot was left
untouched. The Colonel decreed that no one should approach where
the dead rhino lay, lest our presence there should arouse
suspicion too soon. The rhino was a sort of special chance that
was to be saved for the proper time.
The day was unusually still and cloudless. Here and there
throughout the plains scattered herds of zebra, hartebeests, and
gazelles grazed in peace. Not a spoor or a sign of lion was to be
seen. For us the day was a blank, and toward evening the thunder
cloud rose again out of the north and again melted away into the
twilight.
The camp behind the shoulder of the Black Reef was a dry camp.
Every drop of water had to be hauled in drums from Sewell's Farm.
The ox-wagon went in the morning and returned in the afternoon.
In this way we could haul just enough water to last the outfit
twenty-four hours. Special rules were inaugurated. Horses and
dogs were given the preference always, and one of the escaries
was detailed to guard the drums.
That night the wagon was long in returning from Sewell's. When it
finally arrived, the water in one of the drums had a strange
taste.
"It's bad," said Loveless.
Immediately the affair assumed grave proportions. That particular
drum became the most important object in camp. A feeling akin to
personal animosity sprang up against it. For a time the merits
and demerits of the case were seriously discussed, and some of
the porters gathered there and stared stupidly at the wagon load
of water.
"I'll tell you what it is," said Ulyate; "it's the weeds they've
used as a stopper."
The weeds in question were inspected closely and various
judgments passed, and some of the men were reminded of other
times in other lands when the water had turned bad on their
hands.
Means drew a cupful and sipped deliberately.
"It might be the weeds," he finally remarked. "It's not really
bad--only tastes bad."
So in the end we begged the question by setting the drum aside
and deciding to use it only if we had to.
But there were other matters to be determined that evening.
In the Colonel's opinion the time had come for us to try to find
a trail at the carcass of the rhino, and the talk lasted far into
the night. When finally evolved, the plan of campaign was simple.
It was arranged that the Colonel, with the dogs, should go to the
southeast, where the dead rhino lay, the two cowboys should ride
about two miles to the southwest and wait near the lower end of
the big donga, and Kearton, Ulyate, and myself should scale the
southern face of the Black Reef, where, with the aid of glasses,
we could keep in touch with the Colonel and the boys on the plain
below. Thus the men would be stationed at each corner of a vast
triangle. If the Colonel flushed a lion, the animal would
probably break for either the rocks or the donga, and so either
the cowboys or the camera department could cut him off. Because
the distances were so great, the customary signal of two revolver
shots to "gather" could not be relied upon; the lighting of a
fire would mean the same.
The morning star was still bright in the eastern heavens when the
expedition rode out of camp in the early hours of April 8th. At
the end of half a mile the three parties gradually separated on
slightly diverging lines and moved silently to their appointed
stations. Leaving the horses and the camera porters at the base
of the reef, the three of us of the center station climbed the
rocks in the darkness and waited for the dawn.
Slowly the first signs of day appeared over the hills and the
morning star commenced to fade. As the light strengthened, the
wide panorama of the plains and the far off mountains unfolded
and the individual patches of scrub and single trees began to
stand out distinctly from the general blur of the darker reaches.
For fully half an hour everything was still and the light
steadily broadened. Then suddenly Ulyate pointed.
In the plain to the southeast we could see a black speck moving
about in a strange manner--first one way, then another, then
stopping and moving on again.
"It's the Colonel," said Kearton, who had the glasses. "I think I
can see the dogs. He's up to something."
It was not many minutes before the Colonel's actions took on a
different trend. For a space he rode straight for the reef. There
the smaller black specks of the dogs appeared on the plain in
front. No doubt remained now of what the Colonel was up to. The
dogs were on the trail of some animal--lion or hyena, there was
no telling which--but the scent was hot and the hunt was coming
strong.
At one place the dogs made a big bend to the north toward our
camp. So the beast, whatever it was, had come to have a look at
us in the night.
For the first time then, as they swung back for the rocks, we
faintly heard a hound give tongue. It was the only sound in the
stillness.
Kearton began tearing up the dry grass that grew in the cracks
between the rocks, and piled it in a heap.
"Not yet," said Ulyate; "wait till we're sure."
On came the hunt, following close to the southern base of the
reef. The hounds could be heard giving tongue in turn now. The
Colonel rode behind, leaning forward and cheering on the dogs.
"He's made for the rocks all right--come on," said Ulyate as,
rifle in hand, he started down the cliff.
Kearton touched a match to the pile of grass, and blew on it in
his hurry, and as the small flame sprang into life he threw on
some green stuff and in a thin blue column the smoke rose up
straight into the air.
"That will fetch the boys, all right," he said, and we followed
Ulyate down to the plain.
Although the delay in lighting the fire was brief, yet by the
time we had reached the base and had mounted the horses, the
Colonel, Ulyate, and the dogs had already passed out of sight
beyond a farther out-jutting buttress of rock.
We rounded the buttress only to find that the chase had vanished.
The almost perpendicular wall of rocks was empty. There was a
moment's halt. Then two quick shots rang out, and at once there
began a general chorus of baying, yelping dogs, intermingled with
the deep, heavy roar of a lion.
The sounds came from somewhere in the thick growth on top of the
Reef, so we left the horses and climbed toward the sound. On the
plateau the ground was covered with rugged lava blocks, and the
scrub and creepers were so dense that when Kearton shouted
Ulyate's name the white hunter answered from not more than ten
yards away.
"It's a lioness," said Ulyate. "The dogs have got her bayed. Look
out! She's just on the other side of that bush. When I got here I
found the Colonel seated on his horse, facing the beast and
trying to rope her. He didn't even have a knife on him. Why she
didn't charge him, I don't know. He couldn't get away over this
kind of ground. He told me to call the others and so I fired."
When the cowboys arrived from the distant donga, they came
threading their way toward us through the brush, leading their
horses. A short consultation was held.
"We've got to shift her," said the Colonel. "Can't do anything
with her here. Bring the firecrackers. Bring--there she goes!"
The lioness had decided the issue and had bolted of her own
accord. There was a streak of yellow through the bushes, a
scrambling of dogs, wild, frightened cries from the approaching
camera porters, and the hunt was on once more.
The beast ran to an open cave at the edge of the plateau and
crouched there facing the dogs. To maneuver the horses was
absolutely out of the question, so the lioness had to be shifted
again. For upwards of two hours then, by means of the dogs,
firecrackers, and lighting the grass, we drove her from one
stronghold to another, from crevasse to crevasse, in trying to
force her down off the reef.
The sun rose and the heat commenced. The dogs were feeling the
strain of the constant baying. One by one they would seek a spot
of shade and lie panting there for a while and then return to the
fray. Sounder, being weak from distemper, was the first to give
out, but he had done his share of the work. Porters were sent
back to camp to bring water. Because the ground was bad and the
beast was on the defensive, photography was difficult, but
Kearton managed to catch small bits of action here and there,
with Ulyate standing by him.
The day advanced and the dogs showed signs of tiring fast, yet
the lioness still clung to the stronghold of the rocks. Every
means at hand to drive her into the open had been tried time and
again without avail. The task began to look hopeless. We had
already reached the stage when we saw our resources coming to an
end.
"Get a pole," said the Colonel, "and we'll poke a noose over
her."
"It won't work," said Loveless. "We've tried that often enough to
show it won't work."
"Just the same we'll try it again," replied the Colonel.
Loveless had just started to hunt for the pole when, without
warning, the beast gave a quick, savage snarl, scattered the dogs
from in front of her, and, dropping down the face of the reef to
the plain below, ran straight for the distant donga.
Old John led the chase, with the rest of the dogs trailing along
as best they could, and behind them the men and horses, camera
porters, saises, and dog-boys went scrambling down the rocks in
pursuit.
On the bank of the donga the lioness stopped to fight the ropers.
She had run far enough and meant business now, and the hunt came
up and halted a short distance away for a breathing spell.
The lioness had taken up her position at the end of a short
tongue of land projecting into the donga, so that she was
partially protected on three sides. The yelping dogs had quickly
surrounded her, but she paid little heed to them now. Crouched by
the side of a small thorn bush, she watched every move of the
horsemen preparing to advance.
Kearton mounted his camera at one side of the scene, selecting
his position with care to obtain the best background and general
composition. He shifted about two or three times before he was
satisfied.
"Of course there's no telling which way she's going to jump," he
explained. "But we might as well get the beginning of it right."
Means went first. Slowly he maneuvered toward her for a chance to
throw his rope, and the lioness, alert, opened her jaws and
snarled at the horseman circling near.
Closer and closer Means approached. Then all at once she charged.
Means wheeled and spurred his horse to escape. For the first
thirty yards of the race the lioness gained rapidly. Then the bay
began to gather headway and slowly forged ahead.
With a quick change of front the lioness turned and charged the
Colonel, who was sitting on his horse nearby. Again the lioness
gained at first and again the horse drew away from her, and so,
giving up the charge, she returned to another thorn bush, where
she crouched down low and snarled and growled as before. And all
the while Kearton, on foot with his tripod, was busy taking
pictures of the show.
This second position of hers gave the horsemen a better chance.
There was now more room in which to get near her by a quick dash
past the bush. While Means edged around on the northern side, the
Colonel moved to the south, and by tossing his rope about and
shouting he managed to attract and hold her attention. In fact,
he nearly succeeded too well, for once she rose to the first
spring of the charge and the Colonel half wheeled his horse for
flight, but the beast sank back again and glared at him.
Then from behind her Means darted forward on the run, swinging
his rope free round and round his head. Kearton began shouting.
"Wait--the camera's jammed! Wait a bit--she's jammed here!"
But there was no stopping then, and before the lioness knew what
he was up to, Means dashed by within a few feet of her and roped
her round the neck. But a lioness's neck is short and thick, and
with a quick, catlike twist she slipped the noose over her ears.
"Why can't they wait?" complained Kearton. "Somebody tell them to
wait till I fix this. It's jammed. It must have got knocked on a
rock somewhere. It never acted this way before." And all the
while he talked his fingers were busy ripping out the jammed
piece of film and loading up afresh.
When he declared himself ready, Loveless, this time, had already
taken up his position to the north. Again the Colonel waved his
rope and shouted, and when the right moment came Loveless dashed
past her and likewise roped her round the neck. Again the beast
slipped the noose.
Here a rather strange thing happened. We had been told on many
occasions that in shooting lions the beast will give its
attention to the man who has the rifle, as if the instinct of the
animal told it which man to fear. Up to this moment the lioness
had held off the horsemen easily, but no sooner had she freed
herself from Loveless's rope than she fled into the donga and hid
herself in a thicket of scrub and grass. For a time then it
seemed that nothing would move her from out this scrub. The dogs
were finished. Men and horses were becoming played out.
Firecrackers and burning grass were used without result.
Eventually the Colonel fastened a forked stick to his rope and
dragged it across her hiding place to uncover her. This maneuver
partly succeeded--succeeded enough, at least, for Loveless to
throw his rope at her. And at the sight of the rope coming toward
her through the air she hurled herself at him like a flash, so
that it was only the side jump of his horse that saved him; then
she turned and broke away along the donga.
At once Means was after her, galloping hard, for without the dogs
there was danger of our losing sight of her.
But the lioness did not run far. Her next and last position was
in the bed of a small gully about three feet deep in the bottom
of the donga and thickly grown with grasses. Here the ropers held
a brief consultation and planned a final attempt.
Loveless made a throw and the noose landed fairly above the
beast's head, but the thick grasses held it up. Loveless passed
the other end of his rope over the branch of a near-by tree and
down to the horn of his saddle.
The rest of us, with the cameras trained on the scene, had no
knowledge of the plan. We had not the slightest idea what the
Colonel intended to do. Still wondering, we watched him procure a
long pole and ride quietly along the edge of the ditch toward the
place where the lioness crouched.
For a moment there was intense silence. The Colonel stopped his
horse. Then, leaning over from his saddle, he poked the noose
down through the grass.
With a roar the beast sprang at him--sprang through the loop--and
at the other end of the rope Loveless yanked quickly and caught
her by the last hind leg going through. Putting spurs to his
horse, Loveless galloped away, hauling the lioness back across
the gully and up into the tree, where she swung to and fro,
dangling by the one hind foot and snapping upward at the rope she
could not reach.
"Got her!" yelled the Colonel. "Now the rains can come when they
like."
The beast was furious. She was still swinging, head down like a
pendulum, from the limb of the tree, and was tossing her body
about in frantic endeavor to get loose. Means approached close
and deftly slipped a noose over one of the wildly gyrating
fore-legs. Leading his rope over the branch of another tree, he
stretched her out in a helpless position parallel with the
ground.
"Now lower away on both lines," said the Colonel.
He dismounted and stood beneath her, directing affairs as
methodically as the foreman of a construction gang.
"Steady, Means--a little more, Loveless--now together--easy."
She came within his reach and with a quick grab he caught and
held her two hind legs with both hands while Kearton bound them
together with a piece of light line.
The rest was easy. In less than five minutes she was bound
securely and lowered all the way to the ground to rest in the
shade.
It was nearly noon, and time to call a halt to let the heat of
the day pass over before attempting to bring her back to camp.
Porters were sent to fetch food and more water, horses were
off-saddled and turned loose to graze, and one by one the dogs
came straggling in.
The men stretched themselves out on the ground where a bush or a
tree afforded some protection from the sun. But the Colonel kept
wandering over to the prize, to examine a knot, to arrange a
better shade, or to pour the last drops of water from his canteen
into her open mouth. Once he stood over her for a while, watching
her vain attempts to cut the ropes with her teeth.
"Yes, you're a beauty," he finally said. "You're certainly a
beauty. I guess we'll just have to take you home with us as a
souvenir of the trip."
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Vol. XXIII December 1910 No. 6