"Better luck next time," said John, as they retraced their steps. "You shall have first shot, Charley."
Returning towards the spot where the lion had been shot, they found that Bill had deserted his post. He was standing in the middle of the path with Said Mohammed, a good hundred yards away from any bushes or trees. The natives were chattering at a little distance.
"Why didn't you do as I told you?" cried John, vexed at the possibility of having lost his quarry.
"Conscience made a coward of him, I fear, sir," said Said Mohammed.
"Well, go and see if you can find the lion. Get the natives to help. I don't know which tree it was we shot him at," he added to Ferrier, "but I'm not going back without his head."
The party split up and made a systematic search, the natives beating the bush and long grass thoroughly with their spears. At last one of them shouted that he had found the simba, instantly running away from the spot at the top of his speed. There was no growling to be heard, however, so plucking up his courage he returned to the place with his comrades. When John reached them, he found the men grouped a yard or two from the lion's tail, jabbering in much excitement. The beast was stretched on his side, but John was surprised to see by the heaving of his flanks that he was not yet dead. Judging that the chatter of the men would have roused him if he had been able to rise, John went towards his head, but the moment the lion caught sight of him he uttered a terrible roar and to John's amazement sprang to his feet. Stepping hastily backward, John stumbled against Said Mohammed, who, believing like every one else that the beast was helpless, had become bold. The Bengali went down like a ninepin. John recovered his footing with an effort, and raising his rifle, fired at the lion at a range of four yards; but he was too hurried and agitated to take a careful aim, and the shot merely had the effect of throwing the infuriated animal on his haunches as he prepared to spring.
All this had happened so quickly that Ferrier, who had been beating the bush in the opposite direction from John, had not yet come up. The sudden flight of the villagers apprised him that something was wrong, and as he hurried to the spot he was horrified at the sight that met his gaze. Man and beast seemed only a yard apart. He dared not shoot for fear of hitting John, and seeing that the shot had but momentarily checked the animal, he had given up his friend for lost when, as by a miracle, a sudden diversion occurred. The lion was leaping on John, who fired his second barrel with shaking hand and missed, when Said Mohammed scrambled to his feet and flew down the path, shrieking at the top of his voice. As if supposing that this white-clad yelling creature was his worst enemy, the lion changed the direction of his spring, almost grazing John as he fell, and bounded off after the Bengali, with such enormous leaps that escape seemed impossible. John hastily reloaded and fired, but he was trembling from head to foot; a mist seemed to rise before his eyes; and his shot went very wide of the mark. By the time Ferrier reached his side the chase seemed over; they thought that nothing could save the unlucky Indian. But when almost within the brute's clutches, Said Mohammed with the desperation of terror made a sudden jump to the right towards the river, as if intending to fling himself into it. The lion swerved after him, presenting his flank to the anxious spectators. Quick as thought Ferrier raised his rifle and, just as the beast was midway in his final spring, brought him down with a bullet through the heart.
"Ferrier raised his rifle, and brought him down with a bullet through the heart."
John heaved a deep sigh of relief.