"Where are you going?" asked Nero.
"I am going to the front, to march along with the older men lions," said Nero's father. "We are going to lead you young lions where there will be good hunting."
"I shall like that," growled Nero, and he sprang on a tree trunk as he passed, and dug deep into the soft bark.
"Hi! Quit that! You're scattering bark in my eyes!" said a voice behind Nero. It was not a loud voice, for one has to be quiet when hunting in the jungle.
"Who's there?" asked Nero, thinking for a moment it might be the crocodile who had tossed him into the jungle pool.
"It is I—Switchie," was the answer.
"Oh, are you hunting, too?" asked Nero, glad to find that he knew some one among the lions besides his father. "Have you killed anything yet?"
"No, not yet. But I shall pretty soon," answered Switchie. "This isn't my first hunt. I've been out at night before."
"Isn't it great!" said Nero. "I hope I can kill a big buffalo. That would make a fine meal!"
"Yes, I should say it would!" exclaimed Switchie. "But you had better leave the buffaloes to your father and the other big men lions. They always take them. It takes a big lion to catch a buffalo, and even then sometimes the buffaloes kill a lion."