“Do you fire, Fred, and then reload as rapidly as you can, while I will wait until you are ready.”
“But I have no second bullet,” fortunately recollecting at the moment that I had expended all my bullets but one.
My uncle handed me a couple, and I obeyed his injunctions. My bullet passed through the lion’s thick mane and crashed into its neck.
Uttering a tremendous roar as it felt the pain, it came towards us. Without a moment’s loss of time I reloaded, fearing that, should my uncle’s bullet fail to stop it, the brute would be upon us.
Notwithstanding the lion’s near approach my uncle waited, and then fired, hitting it between the eyes. Still it advanced, but, blinded and almost stunned, though it made a desperate bound towards us, its aim was uncertain. My uncle sprang on one side and I
on the other, when, before I had finished loading, over it fell, and lay dead between us.
“A pretty good afternoon’s sport,” observed my uncle. “We’ll take the liberty of cutting a few steaks from the giraffe which this brute here has hunted for us, and the sooner we get back to camp the better.”
The chief difficulty in obtaining the steaks was in cutting through the tough skin of the giraffe, which was almost as thick as that of a rhinoceros. By employing our axes we soon, however, accomplished our task, and in a few minutes reached the camp, where Jan, who had heard our shots, had made up a large fire in expectation of any game we should bring.
While the elephant foot was cooking we regaled ourselves on some fine slices of giraffe meat, which assisted to stop the cravings of hunger. All night long we were surrounded by the abominable cries of hyaenas and jackals which were collected round the carcases of the slain animals.