[Original Size] -- [Medium-Size]
Murad then seized by the throat the brute which was still tearing at his flesh, and drove the yataghan into his breast. But he miscalculated for the cub paid the penalty of his life without uttering a single growl.
Still the little army of invaders continued to advance, only instead of coming on steadily they did so at the double. The child sprang to his feet, seized the second of the lions, and flung him straight in the teeth of the advancing’ band when it was but a few steps from the copse. This new style of projectile had a most telling effect. The Nubians retraversed in ten seconds the ground it had taken them five-and-twenty minutes to get over in the first instance.
The field was Murad’s. Of the three lion whelps one was dead, and a second one was struggling on the ground with a huge wound in the flank. He did not emulate the taciturnity of his brother, for he filled the air with piercing yells. The third was squatting under some thick boughs, uttering a low growling.
And now Murad was seized with a third whim. It was not a bad one for a beginner.
He wished to carry off the third cub as a memento of his first expedition. He re-entered the bushes and searched about. Before long the two youngsters came face to face. The cub, warned by the fate of his brothers, stood on the defensive, and, as soon as Murad came within reach, plunged his talons into his neck. Murad smiled. He would not have cared to bag his game without some trouble, so taking his captive by the throat he made him loose his hold. The lion gasped, choked, and at last, half-strangled, fell on his side, whereon the son of Marsillus took him by the scruff of the neck and carried him off.
