“Thanks! same to you, old chap,” cheerily responded Grosvenor, as he wheeled and strode away to the spot fixed upon as his station.
The clump of bush in which the lions were said to have secreted themselves was an isolated one, with nothing in particular to distinguish it from the thousands of other clumps that dotted the visible country, except that one extremity of it abutted upon the edge of a small shallow ravine, through which trickled a tiny rivulet discharging itself into the larger stream which flows through the long valley that intersected the landscape. Close to the spot where the clump of bush touched the edge of the ravine the rivulet flowed into and through a shallow basin of rock, which formed an ideal drinking place for animals; and it was possibly this circumstance that had caused the lions to take up their temporary abode in that particular clump. There was the possibility that the lions, when breaking cover, might attempt to escape by bolting into and up the ravine; and accordingly, when this fact had been pointed out and explained to Dick, he had very unselfishly placed his friend Grosvenor on that side in order that the latter might have the benefit of the most likely chances.
The barking and yelping of the dogs grew steadily louder and more insistent, and to it was presently added the shouts and shrill whistlings of the Kafirs as they forced their way through the thick undergrowth. A few birds flew out with startled cries, but for about a quarter of an hour there was no further result. Then suddenly the dogs burst into a chorus of sharp, savage barks, entirely different in character from their former utterances, and quite sufficient in itself to inform even the veriest novice that game of some sort was afoot; the Kafirs’ cries of encouragement were redoubled; an occasional rustling and crackling of branches became audible to the intent watchers. Presently there arose a terrific outburst of furious snarlings, growls, and yappings, intermingled with the violent swishing and crackling of dry leaves and twigs, evidence conclusive that a fight was proceeding in the heart of the bush. Then the sudden, sharp, agonised pow-wow of a dog in pain rang out, accompanied by a horrible sound of worrying; a still further increase of the hubbub followed, then a heavy crashing of bushes, and out sprang a magnificent tawny-maned lion into the open. He broke into view immediately opposite to Dick, and not more than twenty yards distant, stopping dead as he sighted the lad standing rifle in hand, with Mafuta like a bronze statue behind him. As the splendid beast stood at gaze, with blazing eyes, and his tail switching in short, angry jerks from side to side, the feeling of anxiety and nervousness that had been oppressing Dick seemed to drop from him like a garment. In an instant he became absolutely cool, steady, and self-possessed, and lifting his rifle to his shoulder with a lightning-like movement, while the sights of the weapon seemed to line themselves of their own volition upon the centre of the beast’s broad forehead, right between the eyes, he pressed the trigger. There was a flash, a sharp, whip-like report, a faint puff of smoke, and the lion dropped stone dead where he stood.
Meanwhile the hubbub in the bush was raging even more fiercely than ever, showing that the beast which had just fallen to Dick’s rifle had not been the cause of it, and that the sport was by no means over. Dick’s weapon was a magazine rifle, and with a quick movement he jerked another cartridge into position, just as the uproar grew so loud and near at hand that it became evident another break was imminent.
The next instant it occurred. A splendid lioness, carrying a small cub in her mouth, crashed into the open, with a dozen or more yapping and snarling curs at her heels. She broke cover well on Grosvenor’s side of the baobab; and, like the lion, came to an abrupt halt as soon as she saw Grosvenor, straight toward whom she was charging. In an instant the white man’s rifle leapt to his shoulder, and the next instant he fired. But even as he pressed the trigger, a dog, more valiant or more foolhardy than the rest, dashed in upon her, and with the rapidity of lightning she turned to meet his rush, dropping her cub, and nearly tearing the miserable cur’s head from his shoulders with a single stroke of her powerful fore paw. At the same instant Grosvenor’s bullet, aimed at her head, crashed into her flank, passing right through it and utterly paralysing her hind quarters. With a whining, snarling roar the poor beast rolled over on her side, but instantly recovered herself so far as to raise herself on her fore legs—between which the cub, but a trifle bigger than a well-grown cat, took refuge—her jaws champing and foaming, and her eyes blazing lightnings at the dogs, which, recognising her helplessness, closed in round her.
“Save the cub!” shouted Dick; “don’t let the dogs worry it; I want to keep the little beast alive.” And, leaving his position, he hurried forward, regardless of danger, to beat off the dogs. Grosvenor and Jantje also rushed forward at his shouts, and were quickly joined by Mafuta, who seemed to divine what Dick required. Dashing fearlessly in among the snarling and snapping dogs, the Kafir and the Hottentot at length succeeded in beating them off, upon which Grosvenor stepped close up to the lioness and gave her the coup de grace by sending a bullet through her brain. As she rolled over dead, Mafuta sprang in and grabbed the cub by the skin of the neck, despite the fact that it snarled and spat like an angry cat and struck out viciously with its claws, which were already strong enough to inflict quite a painful scratch, and carried it off to the wagon, tying it to a wheel by a stout reim.
Having ensured the safety of the cub, Dick, carrying his own and the spare rifle which he had snatched from Mafuta, hurried back to the point which he had so hurriedly deserted; for the commotion in the heart of the bush clearly evidenced the fact that the remaining members of the troop of lions still clung to cover, and that the beaters and dogs were doing their utmost to dislodge them. Laying the spare rifle at his feet, Dick stood facing the great clump, with the rifle in his hand at the ready, prepared for any emergency. The noise and confusion, however, seemed to indicate that the next event would occur in the area under Grosvenor’s jurisdiction, and, sure enough, about a minute later another lion and lioness broke cover together, followed by the remainder of the dogs. The noble beasts, both of which were apparently young animals, and but barely full-grown, evidently intended to make for fresh cover in the ravine, but, finding Grosvenor blocking the way, came to a sudden halt, upon which the dogs instantly gathered round them, yapping and snarling furiously, while individual members made sudden feints of dashing in, only to retreat precipitately with their tails between their legs as the infuriated beasts turned this way and that to meet the rush.
The crowding, clamouring dogs, with their quick rushes, and the incessant twists and turns of the regal pair to meet those rushes, were anything but conducive to good shooting, and Grosvenor, with rifle to shoulder, held his fire, watching for a favourable opportunity. Suddenly it came: a dog more venturesome than the rest sprang at the lion, and was caught by him. Planting both his front paws on the body of the unhappy cur, the lion stood for a moment glaring at his foes, and in that moment Grosvenor pulled trigger, the bullet striking the great beast full in his massive chest. For perhaps a quarter of a minute the lion stood absolutely motionless, his eyes blazing defiance; then he suddenly collapsed, and, with a half-whine, half-roar, slowly rolled over on his side, his great head sank to earth, his limbs stretched themselves stiffly out, and with a violent shudder he yielded up his life.
Grosvenor chose this moment to inject a fresh cartridge into the chamber of his rifle. But something went wrong with the weapon, and while he was still fidgeting with it, forgetful of the fact that Jantje was standing behind him with a second rifle, fully charged, in his hand, the lioness, with a mighty, snarling roar that sent the dogs scuttling in all directions, crouched with the evident intention of springing upon the slayer of her lord. For a moment Dick, who was interestedly watching the scene, took no action, for, according to the arrangement come to between them, the lioness belonged of right to Grosvenor. Then, realising that his friend was in peril, he shouted excitedly:
“Shoot, Phil, shoot, or the brute will be upon you!” at the same time lifting his own weapon to his shoulder.