On our return I shot a zebra for bait in the strip of bush. Turning out somewhat reluctantly at 5.30 a.m. with no hopes of success, as the lions had been very quiet all night, I was cutting the wind rather fine when I saw a number of birds sitting at a respectful distance from the carcase. Approaching cautiously, I saw some brute apparently pulling at something, but could not see clearly what it was, as it was still more or less dark. I knew it must be a lion from its bulk, yet dared not think so. I retraced my steps for the wind and crept up to within sixty yards under cover of a stunted palm. Peering cautiously round, I saw, in the middle of a circle of some two hundred vultures, a grand old lion, leisurely gnawing the ribs. Behind him were four little jackals sitting in a row. It would be difficult to imagine a more perfect picture. In the background stretched the limitless plain, streaked with mists shimmering in the growing light of the rising sun. Clumps of graceful palms fenced in a sandy arena where the zebra had fallen. Round its attenuated remains, just out of reach of the swish of the monarch’s tail, was a solid circle of waiting vultures, craning their bald necks, chattering and hustling one another. The more daring quartette sat within the magic circle like four little images of patience, while the lion in all his might and matchless grandeur of form, leisurely chewed and scrunched the tit-bits, magnificently regardless of the watchful eyes of the encircling _canaille_. Loath to break the spell, I watched the scene for fully ten minutes, then, as he showed signs of moving, I took the chance afforded of a broadside shot and bowled him over with the .500 magnum. I tried to reload but the gun jammed. The lion rose, and after looking round for the cause of the interruption, without success, started off at a gallop. With a desperate effort I closed the gun and knocked him over again. He was a fine black-maned lion, and measured as he lay in a straight line from tip to tip 10 ft. 4 in.--a very unusual length. Another morning, taking an early stroll, I met an old cow hippo and a calf, wandering about far from the river. I accompanied them for some time watching them, but when I caught the youngster by the tail the old lady turned round in answer to its squeals, and opening her mouth to its fullest extent, some 6 ft., gave vent to a terrific roar, which reminded me that it was breakfast-time. On another occasion presumably the same pair strolled past within one hundred yards of our breakfast-table, but they out-distanced the boys who went in pursuit, and plunged into the river, easy winners.