Mr. Blakeney gave way, and the three, accompanied by Poeskop and Jan Kokerboom, went forth on their mission of vengeance. With them they took the wagon dogs to aid in hunting up the lion. They had little difficulty in finding the path of the man-eater. In the thorns, through which the fierce brute had dragged its victim, were to be seen shreds of the poor wild boy’s old flannel shirt and knickerbockers, bestowed upon him by his young master. Here was where the monster had bitten through the poor little fellow’s neck and finished him, and had even begun to devour some of his flesh. A large dark patch of blood and other hideous traces marked the spot. Farther on they came to a more grisly relic. In a little clearing, among some dense bush, there lay the head and the right forearm and hand of the unfortunate boy. Both had been severed easily from the trunk. Tom turned with horror from these sad relics. "Pater," he said, "if I were not so mad with the brute that did this, I think I should be sick. If you and Guy don’t kill the monster, I will." "We’ll kill him, my boy," said his father grimly, "even if we have to follow him all day." They moved on in silence, and, after going three hundred yards farther, spoored the lion and its prey to a dense, triangular piece of bush lying close to the little stream that ran through the valley. Poeskop quickly ran round this piece of bush, and made certain that the murderous brute had gone no farther. Mr. Blakeney now disposed his little force so as to command each side of the triangle. Poeskop and Guy crossed the stream, and guarded that side. Jan Kokerboom kept watch at the point where the lion had entered, well in sight of Mr. Blakeney, who, with Tom carrying a spare rifle, took the angle on the extreme right. Then the dogs, which had followed hot upon the trail, were cheered into the thicket. They were a plucky lot of curs, well used to this kind of work, and they did their duty well. Plunging into the bush and undergrowth, they quickly told that the game was afoot. "To him, Nero! To him, Nelson! Push him up, Ponto!" cried Mr. Blakeney, in his strong, clear voice. The dogs, encouraged at the sound, renewed their attack. "Push him out, boys!" again cried their master heartily. "Have at him, Nero!"