That one word recalled Kennedy to himself, and, hastily filling a flask that he had brought with him, he started on a run up the steps of the well. But what was his amazement when he saw an opaque body of enormous dimensions blocking up the passage! Joe, who was close upon Kennedy’s heels, recoiled with him. “We are blocked in—entrapped!” “Impossible! What does that mean?—” Dick had no time to finish; a terrific roar made him only too quickly aware what foe confronted him. “Another lion!” exclaimed Joe. “A lioness, rather,” said Kennedy. “Ah! ferocious brute!” he added, “I’ll settle you in a moment more!” and swiftly reloaded his rifle. In another instant he fired, but the animal had disappeared. “Onward!” shouted Kennedy. “No!” interposed the other, “that shot did not kill her; her body would have rolled down the steps; she’s up there, ready to spring upon the first of us who appears, and he would be a lost man!” “But what are we to do? We must get out of this, and the doctor is expecting us.” “Let us decoy the animal. Take my piece, and give me your rifle.” “What is your plan?” “You’ll see.” And Joe, taking off his linen jacket, hung it on the end of the rifle, and thrust it above the top of the steps. The lioness flung herself furiously upon it. Kennedy was on the alert for her, and his bullet broke her shoulder. The lioness, with a frightful howl of agony, rolled down the steps, overturning Joe in her fall. The poor fellow imagined that he could already feel the enormous paws of the savage beast in his flesh, when a second detonation resounded in the narrow passage, and Dr. Ferguson appeared at the opening above with his gun in hand, and still smoking from the discharge. Joe leaped to his feet, clambered over the body of the dead lioness, and handed up the flask full of sparkling water to his master. To carry it to his lips, and to half empty it at a draught, was the work of an instant, and the three travellers offered up thanks from the depths of their hearts to that Providence who had so miraculously saved them. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH. An Evening of Delight.—Joe’s Culinary Performance.—A Dissertation on Raw Meat.—The Narrative of James Bruce.—Camping out.—Joe’s Dreams.—The Barometer begins to fall.—The Barometer rises again.—Preparations for Departure.—The Tempest. The evening was lovely, and our three friends enjoyed it in the cool shade of the mimosas, after a substantial repast, at which the tea and the punch were dealt out with no niggardly hand. Kennedy had traversed the little domain in all directions. He had ransacked every thicket and satisfied himself that the balloon party were the only living creatures in this terrestrial paradise; so they stretched themselves upon their blankets and passed a peaceful night that brought them forgetfulness of their past sufferings.