Next morning I was back at daylight, and visited a small water-hole just outside the bush, close to where I had left her, and found from her spoor and faint traces of blood that she had been there to drink during the night. She had afterwards re-entered the bush and was lying down just inside, but was disturbed by our talking, as we heard her growl and move off. She must then have skirted along just inside the edge of the bush, for whilst we were consulting as to the best means of following her up, or whether we should attempt to drive her out, she left the covert some 300 yards off on our side, and went limping away across a small tongue of open ground towards a narrow strip of bush, which she entered. Hurrying round with my gun-bearers in a wide circuit to the other side, I was just in time to see her come to the edge of the bush, but at the same time she saw me, and lay down facing me, with her head well raised. This gave me a capital chance; a shot in the chest rendered her _hors de combat_, and another at close quarters finished her off. The Express bullet of the day before had caught her on the point of the shoulder as she faced me, smashing the blade-bone into fragments and tearing the flesh to a frightful extent. This wound may have knocked all inclination to charge out of her, if she ever had any; otherwise, considering the way she was harassed and the reputation lions have for charging under such circumstances, she might have done so, more especially as the nature of the covert in many places was decidedly favourable for such a demonstration on her part.