"Our only chance, if we have any, is to make a general attack. Will you, by the help of the bushes, climb to the top of the cave--I feel he will not move yet--while I keep my eyes on his. Then at a given signal you drop on him with that pointed stick of hard _acacia_, while I will spring at his throat with my knife. We may at least startle him into making a retreat--only for the love of Heaven be quick! or Thompson will recover, and, by his struggles, change the animal's position." In a moment, though the act was so perilous, and indeed, was likely to end in three lives being sacrificed instead of one, the young minister was climbing the bushes. Anxiously I waited, still keeping my eyes on the lion which, at the sound of the rustling branches, began to beat his tail ominously. By sense of hearing I tried to divine how Mr Ferguson was progressing, and was congratulating myself by the certainty that he must be near the top, when, suddenly letting go Thompson, with a warning roar, I in horror perceived that the lion intended to make me his victim instead of the mate. My fate, I felt was sealed. Thoughts of home, of Katie, of my little ones, rushed with the speed of light to my brain, while my heart grew sick. A prayer escaped my lips, as I saw the wide, blood-red jaws expand to seize me, and the body rise with a noiseless spring. Tottering back, in imagination I already felt the hot breath of the animal on my face--his teeth in my flesh, when a crashing noise abruptly rung in my ears, followed by a cry of fear, and a howl of agony from the lion. Then a cloud of blinding dust enveloped me, and I fell back stunned against the wall of the cave. It was some seconds before I could clear my eyes sufficiently to look for the cause of the noise, the dust, and of my yet being untouched by the lion, whose moans I could still hear. On looking up, I saw to my surprise that the moonlight now streamed in at the _top_ of the cave instead of the front which was blockaded by a great mass of rock, partly covered by which was the lion, writhing in agony, and utterly powerless--his hind quarters being crushed beneath the weight. How the rock had come there, and what was the fate of my companions were mysteries, and I was striving to get my confused senses together to make a search when the head, and then the body of Mr Ferguson appeared, climbing over the fallen rock. "Galbraith, in mercy speak if you be yet alive!" he cried in accents of terror. "I am all right, Sir," I answered, "but for Heaven's sake tell me how all this happened."