I shook my head as I pointed to the fresh skin of the hyrax, the smell of which had no doubt attracted the animal. My sign was all eloquent, and like statues--for we felt how utterly armless, and therefore powerless, we were--we waited, our eyes fixed on our foe. Even in this terrible moment, I could not help thinking how justly the lion had been termed the king of beasts. To see him properly, if not comfortably, is to see him free in his native land. The grandness of his head, the rich tawny hue, the eyes bright as fire, the graceful, flowing mane, are beauties of nature which are lost when the fierce bold spirit is caged. But I had little time, had I had inclination, to take a longer survey, for with his flexible yet massive paw he crushed down the remaining barrier of _mimosa_, then crouching prepared to spring. As I noted the action, the twisting, quivering movement of the lithe, cat-like body, all the muscles contracted ready for the jump, the cry of terror remained frozen on my lips--I seemed, I felt as stone. The next moment, however, I was aroused by a sharp ejaculation of horror from the missionary. Starting forward he seized the heavy stick I had cut from the bush. "Merciful Heaven! Look there, Galbraith," he cried. "Jack Thompson! The terrible brute will have him. For God's sake, let us save the poor fellow!" Before the words could be uttered, the beast with a roar had sprung upon his victim. Like a flash of light his heavy body rose through the air, and the next instant its fearful teeth had fastened upon the poor mate's shoulder. He awoke with a terrific scream, then as he saw those fearful, relentless eyes glaring down upon him, must from fear and pain have fainted, for he lay like one dead. In the meanwhile the minister and I were not idle. Though we felt our efforts must be futile, we yet could not see our companion thus carried off without resistance, for the lion had already begun to back out of the cave, dragging its prey after him. Opening my knife, I bade the minister stand clear, then prepared to spring upon the animal and plunge it in his throat; but, as if conscious of my design, with a low angry growl, it kept its gleaming eyes upon mine and stopping, seemed to await my attack with disdainful contempt, never, however, letting go of poor Jack, who now with returning consciousness began to moan piteously. "Great Heaven! have mercy on him," I heard Mr Ferguson exclaim. "You can never help him, Galbraith; lions are not killed with pen-knives, and the beast has already read your intent. It will be your death as well as Thompson's." "I will try something," I muttered, never taking my eyes from the lion's; for I had heard how great the power of the human glance was over these animals, and, certainly mine seemed to hold him spellbound. Suddenly, a thought struck me; I remembered the thick bushes that hung over the top of the cave, and hurriedly said to the minister--