The march was resumed after the stop at the water hole, where enough game was killed to last for several days. They came to a stream of water, where a number of antelopes were seen, and Joe and Blake were fortunate enough to get a very rare picture--a view of two noble Koodoo bucks having a battle royal. So interested were the animals themselves in the outcome that they never noticed the moving picture boys, who stood in plain view, in a clearing, making films. Nor did the others in the herd take the alarm until the fight was over and one of the bucks vanquished. Then some movement on the part of Blake or Joe startled them, and they were off at a gallop, leaving the injured buck on the ground. But his flesh made good food for the black porters. The journey was ever onward, and several days after the finding of the Bible, Happy One, who was in the lead, suddenly threw down his bundle, readjusted his hyena headdress, and began brandishing his spear. “What is it?” asked Blake in some alarm. “Simba! Simba!” cried Happy One. “He says lion,” interpreted the sergeant. “A lion!” cried C. C. “If that’s the case----” and he made a quick motion toward his gun. “Oh, there’s no lion about to charge,” said Mr. Hotchkiss, hastily. “Probably Happy One has sighted a party of African hunters after a lion. There is no beast the blacks fear so much as the simba, or lion, and they always rejoice when one is about to be killed. I think you’ll find that to be the case.” There was a confused shouting up front. Many of the porters got rid of their loads, and began dancing about. The whites pushed forward and beheld a curious sight. Marching toward them was a band of African hunters, each one carrying a big spear with a head several feet long, of soft iron, sharpened to a razor-like edge. The butt of the spears, too, was partly of iron, only the middle being of wood, and the natives all carried ox-hide shields. They were tall and straight, these savages, fierce and fearless-looking; true lion hunters. And, as they advanced, they broke into a chant. “That’s it!” cried the sergeant. “It’s a lion hunt, all right. Boys, you’re in luck! Get your cameras ready, and you’ll see a rare sight--lions hunted by means of spears and shields!” “Good!” cried Blake, while Joe hurried back toward the mule that carried the moving picture outfits. CHAPTER XIV THE WRONG TRAIL “What’s it all about?” asked Mr. Duncan. “I don’t exactly understand, sergeant. Is there to be a lion hunt here?” “That’s about it, Mr. Duncan,” answered the former soldier. “That is, not exactly here, but in this vicinity. These are some Masai warriors out on a hunt. Probably their village is near here, and there may have been trouble with lions. I’ll have a talk with them, and we’ll find out. But if they stir up one of the beasts you will sure see some great fighting, my word!” and he lapsed into his English idiom.