During the daytime the lion seldom attacks man, and sometimes even when meeting a traveller he is said to pass him by unnoticed; but when the shades of evening descend, his mood undergoes a change. After sunset it is dangerous to venture into the woody and wild regions of Mount Atlas, for there the lion lies in wait, and there one finds him stretched across the narrow path. It is then that dramatic scenes of absorbing interest not unfrequently take place. When, so say the Bedouins, a single man thus meeting with a lion is possessed of an undaunted heart, he advances towards the monster brandishing his sword or flourishing his rifle high in the air, and, taking good care not to strike or to shoot, contents himself with pouring forth a torrent of abuse:—‘Oh, thou mean-spirited thief! thou pitiful waylayer! thou son of one that never ventured to say no! think’st thou I fear thee? Knowest thou whose son I am? Arise, and let me pass!’ The lion waits till the man approaches quite near to him; then he retires, but soon stretches himself once more across the path; and thus by many a repeated trial puts the courage of the wanderer to the test. All the time the movements of the lion are attended with a dreadful noise, he breaks numberless branches with his tail, he roars, he growls; like the cat with the mouse, he plays with the object of his repeated and singular attacks, keeping him perpetually suspended between hope and fear. If the man engaged in this combat keeps up his courage,—if, as the Arabs express themselves, ‘he holds fast his soul,’ then the brute at last quits him and seeks some other prey. But if the lion perceives that he has to do with an opponent whose courage falters, whose voice trembles, who does not venture to utter a menace, then to terrify him still more he redoubles the described manœuvres. He approaches his victim, pushes him from the path, then leaves him and approaches again, and enjoys the agony of the wretch, until at last he tears him to pieces.
The lion is said to have a particular liking for the flesh of the Hottentots, and it is surprising with what obstinacy he will follow one of these unfortunate savages. Thus Mr. Barrow relates the adventure of a Namaqua Hottentot, who, endeavouring to drive his master’s cattle into a pool of water enclosed between two ridges of rocks, espied a huge lion couching in the midst of the pool. Terrified at the unexpected sight of such a beast, that seemed to have his eyes fixed upon him, he instantly took to his heels. In doing this he had presence of mind enough to run through the herd, concluding that if the lion should pursue he would take up with the first beast that presented itself. In this, however, he was mistaken. The lion broke through the herd, making directly after the Hottentot, who, on turning round and perceiving that the monster had singled him out, breathless and half dead with fear, scrambled up one of the tree-aloes, in the trunk of which a few steps had luckily been cut out to come at some birds’ nests that the branches contained. At the same moment the lion made a spring at him, but missing his aim, fell upon the ground. In surly silence he walked round the tree, casting at times a dreadful look towards the poor Hottentot, who screened himself from his sight behind the branches. Having remained silent and motionless for a length of time, he at length ventured to peep, hoping that the lion had taken his departure, when to his great terror and astonishment, his eyes met those of the animal, which, as the poor fellow afterwards expressed himself, flashed fire at him. In short, the lion laid himself down at the foot of the tree, and did not remove from the place for twenty-four hours. At the end of this time, becoming parched with thirst, he went to a spring at some distance in order to drink. The Hottentot now, with trepidation, ventured to descend, and scampered off home as fast as his feet could carry him.
On account as well of the devastation which he causes among the herds as of the pleasure of the chase, the lion is pursued and killed in North and in South Africa wherever he appears: a state of war which, as may well be supposed, is not without danger for the aggressive party. Thus, Andersson once fired upon a black-maned lion, one of the largest he ever encountered in Africa. Roused to fury by the slight wound he had received, the brute rapidly wheeled, rushed upon him with a dreadful roar, and at the distance of a few paces, couched as if about to spring, having his head imbedded, so to say, between his fore paws. Drawing a large hunting-knife, and slipping it over the wrist of his right hand, Andersson dropped on one knee, and thus prepared, awaited the onset of the lion. It was an awful moment of suspense, and his situation was critical in the extreme. Still his presence of mind (a most indispensable quality in a South African hunter) never for a moment forsook him; indeed, he felt that nothing but the most perfect coolness and absolute self-command would be of any avail. He 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, he was unable to see his head, while to aim at any other part would have been madness, he refrained from firing. Whilst intently watching every motion of the lion, the animal suddenly made a prodigious bound; but whether it was owing to his not perceiving his intended victim, who was partially concealed in the long grass, and instinctively threw his body on one side, or to his miscalculating the distance, he went clear over him, and alighted on the ground three or four paces beyond. Quick as thought Andersson now seized his advantage, and wheeling round on his knee, discharged his second barrel; and as the lion’s broadside was then towards him, lodged a ball in his shoulder, which it completely smashed. The infuriated animal now made a second and more determined rush; but owing to his disabled state was happily avoided, though only within a hair’s breadth, and giving up the contest, he retreated into a neighbouring wood, where his carcase was found a few days after.
Dr. Livingstone once had a still more narrow escape, for he was actually under the paws of a lion, whose fury he had roused by firing two bullets into him. ‘I was upon a little height; he caught my shoulder as he sprang, and we both came to the ground below together. Growling horribly close to my ear, he shook me as a terrier-dog does a rat. The shock produced a stupor, similar to that which seems to be felt by a mouse after the first shake of the cat. It caused a sort of drowsiness in which there was no sense of pain nor feeling of terror, though quite conscious of all that was happening. It was like what patients partially under the influence of chloroform describe, who see all the operation, but feel not the knife. This singular condition was not the result of any mental process; the shake annihilated fear, and allowed no sense of horror in looking round at the beast. This peculiar state’ (a fine remark) ‘is probably produced in all animals killed by the carnivora; and if so, is a merciful provision by our benevolent Creator for lessening the pain of death. Turning round to relieve myself of the weight, as he had one paw on the back of my head, I saw his eyes directed to Mebalwé, who was trying to shoot him at a distance of ten or fifteen yards. His gun, a flint one, missed fire in both barrels; the lion immediately left me, and attacking Mebalwé, bit his thigh. Another man attempted to spear the lion while he was biting Mebalwé. He left Mebalwé, and caught this man by the shoulder, but at that moment the bullets he had received took effect and he fell down dead. The whole was the work of a few moments, and must have been his paroxysm of dying rage. A wound from this animal’s tooth resembles a gun-shot wound; it is generally followed by a great deal of sloughing and discharge, and pains are felt in the part periodically ever afterwards. I had on a tartan jacket on the occasion, and I believe that it wiped off all the virus from the teeth that pierced the flesh, for my two companions in this affray have both suffered from the peculiar pains, while I have escaped with only the inconvenience of a false joint in my limb. The man whose shoulder was wounded showed me his wound actually burst forth afresh on the same month of the following year. This curious point deserves the attention of inquirers.’
In the Atlas, the lion is hunted in various ways. When he prowls about the neighbourhood of a Bedouin encampment, his presence is announced by various signs: at night, his dreadful roar resounds; now an ox, now a foal is missing from the herd; at length even a member of the tribe disappears. Terror spreads among all the tents, the women tremble for their children, everywhere complaints are heard. The warriors decree the death of the obnoxious neighbour, and congregate on horse and on foot at the appointed hour and place. The thicket in which the lion conceals himself during the daytime has already been discovered, and the troop advances, the horsemen bringing up the rear. About fifty paces from the bush they halt, and draw up in three rows, the second ready to assist the first in case of need, the third an invincible reserve of excellent marksmen. Then commences a strange and animated scene. The first row abusing the lion, and at the same time sending a few balls into his covert to induce him to come out, utter loud exclamations of defiance: ‘Where is he who fancies himself so brave, and ventures not to show himself before men? Surely it is not the lion, but a cowardly thief, a son of Scheitan, on whom Allah’s curse may rest!’
At length, the roused lion breaks forth. A momentary silence ensues. The lion roars, rolls his flaming eyes, retreats a few paces, stretches himself upon the ground, rises, smashes the branches with his tail. The front row give fire, the lion springs forward, if untouched, and generally falls under the balls of the second row, which immediately advance towards him. This moment, so critical for the lion, whose fury is fully excited, does not end the combat till he is hit in the head or in the heart. Often his hide has been pierced by a dozen balls before the mortal wound is given, so that sometimes, in case of a prolonged contest, several of the hunters are either killed or wounded. The horsemen remain as passive spectators of the fray so long as the lion keeps upon hilly ground, but when driven into the plain, their part begins, and a new combat of a no less original and dramatic character commences; as every rider, according to his zeal or courage, spurs his horse upon the monster, fires upon him at a short distance, then rapidly wheels as soon as the shot is made, and reloads again, to prepare for a new onset. The lion, attacked on all sides, and covered with wounds, fronts everywhere the enemy, springs forward, retreats, returns, and only falls after a glorious resistance, which must necessarily end in his defeat and death, as he is no match for a troop of well-mounted Arabs. After he has spent his power on a few monstrous springs, even an ordinary horse easily overtakes him. One must have been the witness of such a fight to form an idea of its animation. Every rider utters loud imprecations, the white mantles that give so spectral an appearance to their dusky owners, fly in the air like ‘streamers long and gay,’ the carbines glisten, the shots resound, the lion roars; pursuit and flight alternate in rapid succession. Yet, in spite of the tumult, accidents are rare, and the horsemen have generally nothing to fear but a fall from their steed, which might bring them under the claws of their enemy, or, what is oftener the case, the ball of an incautious comrade.
The Arabs have noticed that the day after the lion has carried away a piece of cattle, he generally remains in a state of drowsy inactivity, incapable of moving from his lair. When the neighbourhood, which usually resounds with his evening roar, remains quiet, there is every reason to believe that the animal is gorged with his gluttonous repast. Then some huntsman, more courageous than his comrades, follows his trail into the thicket, levels his gun at the lethargic monster, and sends a ball into his head. Sometimes even, a hunter, relying on the deadly certainty of his aim, and desirous of acquiring fame by a display of chivalrous courage, rides forth alone into the thicket, on a moonlight night, challenges the lion with repeated shouts and imprecations, and lays him prostrate before he can make his fatal bound.
Dr. Livingstone informs us that the Bushmen likewise avail themselves of the torpidity consequent upon a full meal, to surprise the lion in his slumbers, and shoot him with their poisoned arrows.
In ancient times, the lion was an inhabitant of south-eastern Europe. Herodotus relates that troops of lions came down the Macedonian mountains, to seize upon the baggage camels of Xerxes’ army, and even in the time of Alexander the Great, the animal, though rare, was not yet completely extirpated.
In Asia also, where the lion is at present confined to Mesopotamia, the northern coast of the Persian Gulf, and the north-western part of Hindostan, he formerly roamed over far more extensive domains. The Asiatic lion differs from the African, by a more compressed form of body, a shorter mane, which sometimes is almost entirely wanting, and a much larger tuft of hair at the end of the tail.