“Take your rifles, gentlemen,” murmured von Schalckenberg. “We must save that poor beast’s life. But do not fire until I give the word, for I should like you all to see a little more of this really remarkable performance before we put an end to it. Boris, my friend, you have never yet shot a lion, while the rest of us have. You are therefore fairly entitled to the privilege of first shot. Take you, therefore, the lion; one of us will account for the lioness. And remember that your rifle will afford you twenty shots without reloading; if, therefore, you should fail to kill with the first shot, peg away until you do. Now, who is to be responsible for the lioness?”
“Let Mildmay take her,” said Sir Reginald. “Lethbridge has already had his shot; and yours and mine, Professor, can come later.”
And so it was arranged. Meanwhile the lion, evidently encouraged by what he had already accomplished, redoubled his efforts, sending forth roar after roar, at every one of which the unfortunate buck, shivering in every limb, and with tears streaming down his cheeks, advanced a pace or two nearer the lion. At length, however, the sight of the animal’s distress became too painful for Lady Olivia, and, lowering her binoculars, she exclaimed, in low, tense accents—
“Oh, please put an end to it, somebody! It is cruel of us to allow that pretty creature to go on suffering such agonies of terror simply because the sight happens to be of an interesting and singular nature. Surely we have seen enough, have we not?”
For answer Colonel Sziszkinski raised his rifle to his shoulder and, taking steady aim, pulled the trigger. There was the usual faint click of the hammer, and immediately a little spurt of brown dust close to the lion’s fore paws showed that the Russian had missed. The lion took no notice whatever of the fact that a bullet had just missed him, but crouched again for the emission of another roar, when the click of the hammer again sounded, immediately followed by the loud thud of the bullet, and the roar ended in a savage snarl as the great beast lurched forward on to his head, and with a single convulsive extension of his body lay quiet and still. At the same instant the thud of another bullet was heard, and the lioness was seen to twitch her head slightly, but without making any further movement. As for the troop of gazelle, no sooner was the lion down than, throwing up their heads with one accord, they wheeled sharply round to the left and dashed off across the little plain, vanishing a minute later through a cleft of the rocks.
Meanwhile Mildmay was looking alternately at the lioness and his rifle with a puzzled expression.
“I could have sworn that I hit the brute,” he exclaimed, “yet there she lies as coolly and comfortably as though nothing had happened. Even the tragic end of her lord and master seems to have no interest for her! But I’ll wake you up, my beauty, or I’ll know the reason why.” And he raised the rifle again to his shoulder.
“No need to waste another cartridge, skipper,” remarked Lethbridge, who had been inspecting the lioness through his binoculars. “Take these glasses, and look at her head, just behind the left ear.”
Mildmay took the glasses, and, having used them for a moment, handed them back with a grunt of satisfaction.
“Thanks,” he said. “I felt certain I had hit her; but I couldn’t understand why she never moved.”