This trap was rigged up, with the expenditure of a day's work, at one corner of the outer boma.
"It's rather poor sport to treat the lion like a rat," said John, "but that can't be helped. If we catch one we shan't be able to get a good shot at him in the dark, though."
"Well, we can either keep him there till daylight, or, better still, burn a bit of magnesium wire--I've plenty; that will not only give us a good light, but possibly help to scare other beasts away."
The trap was set. For two nights nothing happened. On the third, just as the two Englishmen were thinking of turning in, they heard the door of the trap fall with a clatter, followed by a low growl of rage. They caught up their rifles and hurried to the spot.
"Now for the wire, father," said John. "You give me a light and I'll pot the beast."
Mr. Halliday struck a match and ignited the wire, but just as John was taking aim it fell to the ground.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"I'm as nervous as a cat," said his father, with a rueful laugh. "And I haven't brought a second piece, confound it!"
"Well, we'll take a shot in the dark. We can't both miss."
They fired together. The next moment there was a terrific roar, a crash as of shattered match-wood, and they knew that the infuriated captive had burst through the walls of the trap, stout as they were. They fired another shot in the direction they supposed him to have taken, and then, vexed and disappointed, returned to their tent. They found next day that the lion had been wounded. Bill traced it by the stains of blood upon the ground. But its injuries were plainly not very serious, for the track failed at a patch of reeds a mile up the river, and the Englishmen had to digest their chagrin that the troublesome beast was still at large. Their efforts, however, had not been wholly unsuccessful. The nocturnal visitations ceased, and since no roaring was heard it appeared that the lions had been scared from the neighbourhood.