At that terrible moment, Staines recovered his wits enough to see that what little chance he had was to fire into the destroyer, not at him. He kneeled, and levelled at the centre of the lion's chest, and not till he was within five yards did he fire. Through the smoke he saw the lion in the air above him, and rolled shrieking into the stream and crawled like a worm under the bank, by one motion, and there lay trembling. A few seconds of sick stupor passed: all was silent. Had the lion lost him? Was it possible he might yet escape? All was silent. He listened, in agony, for the sniffing of the lion, puzzling him out by scent. No: all was silent. Staines looked round, and saw a woolly head, and two saucer eyes and open nostrils close by him. It was the Hottentot, more dead than alive. Staines whispered him, “I think he is gone.” The Hottentot whispered, “Gone a little way to watch. He is wise as well as strong.” With this he disappeared beneath the water. Still no sound but the screaming of the vultures, and snarling of the hyenas and jackals over the eland. “Take a look,” said Staines. “Yes,” said Squat; “but not to-day. Wait here a day or two. Den he forget and forgive.” Now Staines, having seen the lion lie down and watch the dying eland, was a great deal impressed by this; and as he had now good hopes of saving his life, he would not throw away a chance. He kept his head just above water, and never moved. In this freezing situation they remained. Presently there was a rustling that made both crouch. It was followed by a croaking noise. Christopher made himself small. The Hottentot, on the contrary, raised his head, and ventured a little way into the stream. By these means he saw it was something very foul, but not terrible. It was a large vulture that had settled on the very top of the nearest acacia. At this the Hottentot got bolder still, and to the great surprise of Staines began to crawl cautiously into some rushes, and through them up the bank. The next moment he burst into a mixture of yelling and chirping and singing, and other sounds so manifestly jubilant, that the vulture flapped heavily away, and Staines emerged in turn, but very cautiously. Could he believe his eyes? There lay the lion, dead as a stone, on his back, with his four legs in the air, like wooden legs, they were so very dead: and the valiant Squat, dancing about him, and on him, and over him.