"We've got to shift her," said the Colonel. "Can't do anything with her here. Bring the firecrackers. Bring—there she goes!"
The lioness had decided the issue and had bolted of her own accord. There was a streak of yellow through the bushes, a scrambling of dogs, wild, frightened cries from the approaching camera porters, and the hunt was on once more.
The beast ran to an open cave at the edge of the plateau and crouched there facing the dogs. To maneuver the horses was absolutely out of the question, so the lioness had to be shifted again. For upwards of two hours then, by means of the dogs, firecrackers, and lighting the grass, we drove her from one stronghold to another, from crevasse to crevasse, in trying to force her down off the reef.
The sun rose and the heat commenced. The dogs were feeling the strain of the constant baying. One by one they would seek a spot of shade and lie panting there for a while and then return to the fray. Sounder, being weak from distemper, was the first to give out, but he had done his share of the work. Porters were sent back to camp to bring water. Because the ground was bad and the beast was on the defensive, photography was difficult, but Kearton managed to catch small bits of action here and there, with Ulyate standing by him.
The day advanced and the dogs showed signs of tiring fast, yet the lioness still clung to the stronghold of the rocks. Every means at hand to drive her into the open had been tried time and again without avail. The task began to look hopeless. We had already reached the stage when we saw our resources coming to an end.
"Get a pole," said the Colonel, "and we'll poke a noose over her."
"It won't work," said Loveless. "We've tried that often enough to show it won't work."
"Just the same we'll try it again," replied the Colonel.
Loveless had just started to hunt for the pole when, without warning, the beast gave a quick, savage snarl, scattered the dogs from in front of her, and, dropping down the face of the reef to the plain below, ran straight for the distant donga.
Old John led the chase, with the rest of the dogs trailing along as best they could, and behind them the men and horses, camera porters, saises, and dog-boys went scrambling down the rocks in pursuit.