“When the hunters have succeeded in getting within gunshot of the supposed lair, they ‘turn’ it, so as to command it from the high ground, and stop directly they command the position, observing throughout their operations the greatest silence. As the Lion’s sense of hearing is very delicate, it sometimes happens that he hears the steps of the hunters, or the rolling of some stone which has been displaced from the side of the mountain. In this case he rises and walks in the direction of the sound. If one of the ‘men of the watch’ perceive him, he takes the skirt of his burnous in his right hand, and hoists it before him, which means ‘I see him.’ One of the huntsmen from the group then stands forward, and puts himself in communication with him, shaking his burnous from right to left, which signifies ‘Where is he?’ and ‘What is he doing?’ If the Lion is still, the ‘man of the watch’ raises the skirts of his burnous to his head, then lets them fall, and walks a few steps forwards, repeating the same signal, which may be translated by ‘He is motionless, in front of you, and at some distance.’ If the Lion walks to the right or left, the man walks in the same direction, shaking his burnous either from left to right, or from right to left. Finally, if the animal proceeds in the direction of the hunters, the ‘man of the watch’ places himself exactly opposite them, shakes his burnous violently, and cries with all his might, ‘_Aou likoum!_’ (‘Take care!’) At this signal the hunters draw themselves up in a line, if possible against a rock, so that their position may not be turned. Woe to him who has not heard the cry of ‘_Aou likoum!_’ in sufficient time, and has stopped at some distance from his comrades.” When a Lion actually comes in sight, all concealment is, of course, at an end. The Arabs get as near as possible, to fire, and as soon as their guns are discharged rush upon the wounded beast with their pistols and swords. As might naturally be expected the casualties in this mode of warfare are fearful; hardly a hunt takes place unmarked by the death of one or more of the hunters. One of the most daring single combats of which we ever remember to have read was one between a great black-maned Lion and Mr. C. J. Andersson, who had all the real part of the fight entirely to himself. The account is also interesting as showing--like, perhaps, most descriptions of the same kind--how very tenacious of life the Lion is, for the animal in question, although it had received the contents of both Mr. Andersson’s barrels, one of which completely smashed its shoulder, had a sufficient number of its nine lives left to enable it to get clear off, and cheat its gallant destroyer of his lawful spoil--the skin.