"Him Pongo in there," he stated, pointing to the bushes with a grin. "Mwanzi kill? Vera good!"
Critch hesitated. He glanced at the waiting pigmies, who evidently had not the slightest intention of robbing him of the honor of going first.
"Come on," he muttered to Burt. "We got to pull the bluff through right here. Have your gun ready."
Burt nodded. The two boys, their hearts beating fast, advanced to the edge of the thicket. No sound came from the bushes, and Burt thrust the first branches aside as he entered. The thorns made sad havoc with their clothes, but the boys were too anxious to heed this. A moment later Burt gave a startled exclamation. Critch came to his side, and the boys saw a tawny shape lying ahead of them.
"Is he dead?" whispered Critch.
"Can't see him plain enough," responded Burt. "If he jumps and I don't stop him, try to catch him on the spear."
A few steps farther on and the lion came into full view. He was lying on his side, stretched out, and something black hid his head. Burt levelled the gun, but as he did so the black object resolved itself into a swarm of flies, who buzzed up at the noise made by the boys.
"Hurray!" shouted Burt, flinging down the gun, "he's dead!"
"Look at the axe!" yelled his chum, pointing to the weapon that was almost buried in the skull of the beast. "Golly, you must have hit like fury! Hey, Mbopo!"
The pigmies were not far behind the boys, and at the shout they came dashing forward. A shrill yell went up as they saw the dead lion, then all remained silent and motionless, gazing down at the form of the beast which they had worshipped for so long. That he was blind could be easily made out, for the white scar ran across his eyes, which were not pleasant to see. Burt turned away with a shudder.