Kalulu stayed only to take in these observations, and then stepped deliberately nearer, and drove an arrow through him; and without waiting to watch the results, drove another, and still another, while Simba drove his spear several times deep into his heart, and exerting his strength when he felt the claws relax, he brought his right leg forward, and turning the animal’s back on it, pressed down his head with his left hand, and drew the sharp spear-blade twice across the throat, almost severing the head. Then the animal, yielding to superior strength and weapons, fell off, shivered once or twice, and lay extended lifeless—dead.
Poor Simba was most grievously wounded; for the claws had penetrated deep into his hip, while the knee-bone was bare.
“Ah!” sighed he, as he heard the expressions of sympathy from his young friend, “if I had only some of that eland thou didst shoot, Kalulu, in me yesterday, to-day I should have bent that beast double, as easily as I would fold a piece of cloth. But grain-food! who can be strong after feeding on grain-food for sixteen days? Give grain to asses, but meat for men!”
“See here, Simba. Do thou rest thyself under this tree, while I go and bring our friends here. It is far easier for them to come here than for us to carry the eland to them. Thou mayest take my cloth to wrap round thy wounds. I don’t need cloth while thou art thus.” So saying, the generous, sympathising youth hastened to inform his friends of the accident that had happened to Simba, which they received with surprise and consternation.
Selim and Abdullah, who had been indebted so often to the power that lay in Simba’s arm, as soon as they heard of the wounds which their champion had received, now hastened to him to offer their services.
“Speak, Simba! Oh! the frightful beast!” said Selim, as his eye caught sight of the mangled and gashed leopard. “Speak! art thou much hurt?”
Simba was reclining under the tree, looked slightly troubled with his pains; the clothe he had taken to staunch the blood were lying on the wounded hip and knee, by no means pleasant to look at. The two boys, seeing these things, judged immediately that Simba’s case was very grave—that he was going to die; and, not knowing what else to do, they began to cry, to sound the praises of their dear friend, and lament his sudden “taking off.”
Simba, however, answered them as quickly as he could subdue a pang of pain, and command language.
“Nay, weep not, young masters. Simba is but slightly wounded—flesh wounds—nothing more. No, no, Simba is not going to die; he must see his wife and children, and Selim in his home again, before he can die. But—Master Abdullah!”
“Yes, Simba, what is it?”