Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 3Sylvester, Charles Herbert
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Journeys Through Bookland, Vol. 3
Sylvester, Charles Herbert
Children's literature; Literature -- Collections
The dogs slunk behind the fire, and the lion seated himself almost
like a cat on his hind legs, glaring alternately at them, and at the
great boar hams which hung near, with doubtless a mixed feeling of
irritation and appetite, which was testified by the restless movement
of his tail.
He then arose, and commenced walking up and down with slow and
measured pace, occasionally uttering short, angry roars, quite unlike
the prolonged, full tones we had heard at first.
At times he went to drink at the brook, always returning with such
haste that I fully expected to see him spring.
Gradually his manner became more and more threatening; he turned
toward us, crouched, and with his body at full stretch, waved his
tail, and glared so furiously that I was in doubt whether to fire or
retreat, when through the darkness rang the sharp crack of a rifle.
"That is Fritz!" exclaimed every one; while, with a fearful roar, the
lion sprang to his feet, stood stock-still, tottered, sank on his
knees, rolled over, and lay motionless on the sand.
"We are saved!" I cried; "that was a masterly shot. The lion is struck
to the heart; he will never stir again. Stay on board, boys. I must
join my brave Fritz."
In a few moments I landed; the dogs met me with evident tokens of
pleasure, but kept whining uneasily, and looking toward the deep
darkness of the woods whence the lion had come.
This behavior made me cautious; and, seeing nothing of Fritz, I
lingered by the boat, when suddenly a lioness bounded from the shadow
of the trees, into the light diffused by the fire.
At sight of the blazing fagots she paused, as though startled; passed
with uncertain step round the outskirts of the illuminated circle; and
uttered roarings, which were evidently calls to her mate, whose dead
body she presently discovered.
Finding him motionless, her manner betokened the greatest concern; she
touched him with her fore paws, smelt round him, and licked his
bleeding wounds. Then, raising her head, she gnashed her teeth, and
gave forth the most lamentable and dreadful sound I ever heard; a
mingled roar and howl, which was like the expression of grief, rage,
and a vow to be revenged, all in one.
Crack! Another shot: the creature's right fore paw was lamed; and the
dogs, seeing me raise my gun, suddenly gathered courage, and ran
forward just as I fired. My shot also wounded the lioness, but not
mortally, and the most terrific combat ensued.
It was impossible to fire again, for fear of wounding the dogs. The
scene was fearful beyond description. Black night surrounded us; the
fitful blaze of the fire shed a strange, unnatural light on the
prostrate body of the huge dead lion, and on the wounded lioness, who
fought desperately against the attack of the four gallant dogs; while
the cries, roars, and groans of anguish and fury uttered by all the
animals were enough to try the stoutest nerves.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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