After such rude shocks as these to our faith in the African monarch’s courage, it is positively refreshing to come across instances where the Lion has shown himself capable of very great boldness, such, for instance, as the following:—
“We were waked up suddenly by hearing one of the Oxen bellowing and the Dogs barking. It was moderately dark, and I seized Clifton’s double rifle, and rushed out, not knowing where, when I saw the driver perched on the top of a temporary hut, made of grass, about six feet high, roaring lustily for a doppè (cap). I scrambled up just as the poor Ox ceased his cries, and heard the Lions growling and roaring on the top of him, not more than fourteen yards from where we were, but it was too dark to see them. I fired, however, in the direction of the sound, and just above the body of the Ox, which I could distinguish tolerably well, as it was a black one. Diza (the driver) followed my example; and, as the Lions did not take the least notice, I fired my second barrel, and was just proceeding to load my own gun, which Jack had brought me, when I was aware, for a single instant only, that the Lion was coming; and the same moment I was knocked half-a-dozen somersaults backwards off the hut, the brute striking me in the chest with his head. I gathered myself up in a second, and made a dash at a fence just behind me, and scrambled through it, gun in hand, but the muzzle was choked with dirt. I then made for the wagon, and got on the box, where I found all the Kaffirs, who could not get inside, sticking like Monkeys, and Diza perched on the top. How he got there seemed to me a miracle, as he was alongside me when the brute charged. A minute or two afterwards one of them marched off a Goat, one of five that were tethered by the foot to the hut that we had so speedily evacuated.
“Diza, thinking he had a chance, fired from the top of the wagon, and the recoil knocked him backwards on to the tent, which broke his fall. It was a most ludicrous sight altogether. After that we were utterly defeated, and the brutes were allowed to eat their meal unmolested, which they continued to do for some time, growling fiercely all the while. The Kaffirs said there were five in all. I fired once again, but without effect; and we all sat shivering with cold without any clothes on till near daybreak, when our enemies beat a retreat, and I was not sorry to turn in again between the blankets. I was just beginning to get warm again when I was aroused by a double shot, and rushed out on hearing that the driver and after-rider had shot the Lion. We went to the spot, and found a fine Lioness dead, with a bullet through the ribs from the after-rider; a good shot, as she was at least 150 yards off. Another had entered the neck just behind the head, and travelled all along the spine nearly to the root of the tail. I claimed the shot, and forthwith proceeded to skin her. I cut out the ball; it proved to be my shot out of Clifton’s rifle. This accounted for her ferocious onslaught. The after-rider was rather chopfallen at having to give her up to the rightful owner.
“Diza got a claw in his thigh, and the gun which he had in his hand was frightfully scratched on the stock: rather sharp practice. A strong-nerved old Kaffir woman lay in the hut the whole time, without a door or anything whatever between her and the Lions, and kept as still as a Mouse all the while.”
Again:—“The enemy disdainfully surveyed us for several minutes, daring us to approach with an air of conscious power and pride, which well beseemed his grizzled form. As the rifle balls struck the ground nearer and nearer at each discharge, his wrath, as indicated by his glistening eyes, increased roar, and impatient switching of the tail, was clearly getting the mastery over his prudence. Presently a shot broke his leg. Down he came upon the other three with reckless impetuosity, his tail straight out and whirling on its axis, his mane bristling on end, and his eyeballs flashing rage and vengeance. Unable, however, to overtake our Horses, he shortly retreated under a heavy fire, limping and discomfited to his stronghold. Again we bombarded him, and again exasperated he rushed into the plain with headlong fury, the blood now streaming from his open jaws, and dyeing his mane with crimson. It was a gallant charge, but it was to be his last. A well-directed shot arresting him in full career he pitched with violence upon his skull, and throwing a complete somersault, subsided amid a cloud of dust.”
The Lion has some excuse for occasionally developing a strong running away propensity. His pace when going at full speed is wonderfully rapid, considering the length of his legs. As the following extract shows, he is able to outrun a firstrate Horse, so that the animals on which he usually feeds would, if he chose to pursue them, have simply no chance whatever against him. As we shall see, however, the Lion seldom pursues his prey, preferring to lie in ambush and to spring upon a passing herd. This consideration makes the following experience rather remarkable. The Lion probably pursued Mr. Baldwin not to satisfy appetite, but for revenge.
“Now for an adventure with a Lion, which I have reserved for the last. On Friday the old Masara captain paid me a visit. He had seen a Lion in the path, and left a lot of Masaras to watch him. I had been working hard all day in the hot sun with an adze, making a dissel-boom for the wagon, and was tired, lame, and shaky in the arms, and did not feel at all up to the mark for rifle-shooting; but I ordered ‘Ferns’ to be saddled, who was also not at all fresh, having had a tremendous burst in the morning across a flat after a lean Eland Cow. Just after, I caught sight of about twenty-five Masaras sitting down, all armed to the teeth with shields and assegais. My attention was attracted to a Kaffir skull, which struck me as a bad omen, and the thought entered my head that it might be my fate to lay mine to bleach there. I did not, however, suffer this thought to unnerve me, but proceeded, and found that the Lion had decamped. The Masaras followed his spoor about a couple of miles, when he broke cover. I did not see him at first, but gave chase in the direction in which the Masaras pointed, saw him, and followed for about 1,000 yards, as he had a long start, when he stood in a nasty thorn thicket. I dismounted at about sixty or seventy yards, and shot at him. I could only see his outline, and that very indistinctly, and he dropped so instantaneously that I thought I had shot him dead. I remounted and reloaded, and took a short circle, and stood up in my stirrup to catch a sight of him. His eyes glared so savagely, and he lay crouched in so natural a position, with his ears alone erect, the points black as night, that I saw in a moment I had missed him. I was then about eighty yards from him, and was weighing the chances of getting a shot at him from behind an immense ant-heap, about fifty yards nearer. I had just put the Horse in motion with that intention when on he came with a tremendous roar, and ‘Ferns’ whipped round like a top, and away at full speed. My Horse is a fast one, and has run down the Gemsbok, one of the fleetest Antelopes, but the way the Lion ran him in was terrific. In an instant I was at my best pace, leaning forward, rowels deep into my Horse’s flanks, looking back over my left shoulder over a hard, flat, excellent galloping ground. On came the Lion, two strides to my one. I never saw anything like it, and never want to do so again. To turn in the saddle and shoot darted across my mind when he was within three strides of me, but on second thoughts I gave a violent jerk on the near rein, and a savage dig at the same time with the off-heel, armed with a desperate rowel, just in the nick of time, as the old manikin bounded by me, grazing my right shoulder with his, and all but unhorsing me, but I managed to right myself by clinging to the near stirrup-leather. He immediately slackened his speed. As soon as I could pull up, which was not all at once, as ‘Ferns’ had his mettle up, I jumped off, and made a very pretty and praiseworthy shot, considering the fierce ordeal I had just passed (though I say it who ought not), breaking his hind leg at 150 yards off, just at the edge of the thicket. Fearful of losing him, as the Masaras were still flying for bare life over the veldt, with their shields over their heads, and I knew nothing would prevail on them to take the spoor again, I was in the saddle, and chasing him like mad in an instant. His broken leg gave me great confidence, though he went hard on three legs; and I jumped off forty yards behind him, and gave him the second barrel—a good shot—just above the root of the tail, breaking his spine, when he lay under a bush roaring furiously, and I gave him two in the chest before he cried ‘Enough!’ He was an old manikin, fat and furious, having only four huge yellow blunt fangs left.”
Not only has the Lion the advantage of great courage—at least, except when coming in contact with those he feels to be his masters—and of great swiftness, but his strength is prodigious. He will fell an Ox or an Antelope with a single blow of his paw, break its neck with one crunch of his cruel teeth, and bound off with it to his lair as easily as if he were only carrying a Rabbit. With a Calf in his mouth he has been known to leap a wall nine feet high. Not an animal of the forest, save the Rhinoceros, can hope to escape from such terrible perfections as these. Any quarry the Lion may choose—Ox, Antelope, or Zebra—is bound to succumb.
There is another characteristic about the beast which is a valuable accessory weapon, comparable to the “British cheer,” with which our soldiers are always supposed to strike terror into the hearts of their enemies. We mean, of course, the terrible roar—that deafening thunder voice, at sound of which the Leopard and Hyæna hold their breath in awe, and the doomed flocks tremble and flee. With man even the noise, when heard for the first time, produces an indescribable feeling, and a firm conviction that all his courage will be needed to meet such a fearful opponent. Sometimes, however, the Lion seems to exercise his voice for fun, or for practice, rather than for striking terror into his hearers.