Thinking it better to leave the animals to feed, he and Masheesh watched them. Half an hour passed, the flesh being nearly gone, and a few of the larger bones only remaining. The ducks were sailing about the canoe, the birds gliding here and there; but sunset was approaching, and it became absolutely necessary to get rid of them. Leaning his rifle across the slight gunwale, Hughes took a steady aim. Just in front of him sat a great lion, with the last remnants of the buck's forequarters flung over his paws, crunching at the bones. The report rang out, startling the whole crew, but whether from nervousness, or from some motion of the boat, he knew not, the shot missed; the startled animals, after gazing for a moment, trotted deliberately off, Hughes firing another barrel after them. One of them turned at the second shot, growling fiercely, then the whole disappeared in the cover, while the ring of the shot gun was heard about a mile away, replying to that from the river. The report came from a direction exactly opposite to that in which the lions had disappeared. A quarter of an hour later the long plaintive cry of the Australian bushranger was heard and replied to, and then Wyzinski made his appearance, breaking his way through the bush, his dress torn, and about thirty different kinds of birds dangling round his waist. To his great surprise, Hughes rushed forward and shook him by the hand. "Why, what's the matter?" he asked. "Matter enough; have you seen any lions?" "I have not seen anything except these birds, some snakes, and a great many different kinds of monkeys, some of them very large." "Where's Noti?" was the next question, "I'm sure I don't know," replied the missionary. "He left me to follow a caracal." "Did you hear any lions about?" "No, nor was I likely; that beast does not ramble during the day. I saw great quantities of monkeys, I repeat."