The first shot had drawn his own men and a number of the villagers to the entrance, and they had witnessed the fall of the dread beasts. Loud shouts acclaimed the white man's prowess. It seemed that the people could not do enough to show their gratitude.
And the chief had now completely changed his mind. Impressed by the slaying of the lions, he was willing to give the help he had formerly refused.
"It is wonderful," he said, spreading his hands. "The white man has slain with his marvellous gun the beasts that slew my people and wounded my son. Shall I not do something in return? Never have I seen such a marvellous deed!"
Challis thanked him. Later on, when he went back and examined the dead lions, he did not think it necessary to inform the chief that the lioness had been killed by what was really a miss. He had aimed behind the shoulder, but he found that the shot had entered at the ear and pierced the brain.
CHAPTER XIX
TRAINING AN ARMY
After Challis's adventure with the lions, the villagers, as the way of negroes is, were just as eager to help the white man as they had formerly been reluctant.
A man who, unaided, could kill two lions was surely a very wonderful person. Not even the dreaded Tubus could stand against him. It would be a blessing to the whole countryside if the power of the Tubus were broken. The white man asked their help—he should have it.
The chief ordered all the males of the community to assemble in front of the cave. His eighty fighting-men, splendid specimens of muscular humanity, gathered in a disorderly crowd on one side. Some were almost naked, others wore a sort of shawl folded about them as a Scots shepherd folds his plaid; it left one shoulder bare, and descended to the knee. All carried spears about four feet long.
The other group comprised the boys, the elderly men, and the few weaklings of the tribe.