The boys saw what had happened, and both, levelling their pieces, fired. The lion gave a bound in the air, and fell backward. “Hurrah! hurrah!” shouted Leo and Natty; “we have killed the lion!”
“No; it was my shot did it,” cried Leo.
“It was mine,” exclaimed Natty; “I am sure.”
“You both had the honour,” exclaimed Stanley, as he knelt over the monster’s head. “Here are two shot holes, and either would have killed him.”
As may be supposed, the boys’ triumph was very great. Chickango, however, was better pleased with the giraffe.
“Here meat enough for one week,” he exclaimed, as he began to cut away into the giraffe’s flesh.
As we had no prejudice in taking an animal killed immediately before our eyes, though we might have objected to it had we found it dead, we all assisted Chickango in cutting up the animal, each of us taking as much as we could possibly carry.
“You stay here,” he said. “Take care no oder lion come. I go call oders;” and loading himself with twice as much as we could have attempted to carry, he hurried back to the camp.
The rest of the party soon arrived; and we had now an ample supply of food for several days, if it would keep so long. Not delaying to kill any birds, as the rest of the party were waiting for their dinner, we hurried back to the camp. We found that Timbo had not been idle, and had caught several fish, which were of good size, and pronounced wholesome. We found Igubo’s sons—the eldest of whom was called Mango and the other Paulo—creeping along the banks at a little distance down the river.
“They are after something,” observed Jack, “for they have been making a couple of harpoons; and they seem to know pretty well what they are about.”