The Swiss Family Robinson; or, Adventures on a Desert IslandWyss, Johann David
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The Swiss Family Robinson; or, Adventures on a Desert Island
Wyss, Johann David
Family life -- Fiction; Islands -- Fiction; Survival -- Fiction
The dogs slunk behind the fire, and the lion seated himself almost like
a cat on his hind legs, glaring alternately at them, and at the great
boar hams which hung near, with doubtless a mixed feeling of irritation
and appetite, which was testified by the restless movements of his tail.
He then arose, and commenced walking up and down with slow and measured
pace, occasionally uttering short, angry roars, quite unlike the
prolonged, full tones we had heard at first.
At times he went to drink at the brook, always returning with such
haste, that I fully expected to see him spring.
Gradually his manner became more and more threatening; he turned toward
us, crouched, and with his body at full stretch, waved his tail, and
glared so furiously, that I was in doubt whether to fire, or retreat,
when through the darkness rang the sharp crack of a rifle.
"That is Fritz!" exclaimed everyone; while, with a fearful roar, the
lion sprang to his feet, stood stock still, tottered, sank on his knees,
rolled over, and lay motionless on the sand.
"We are saved!" I cried; "that was a masterly shot. The lion is struck
to the heart; he will never stir again. Stay on board, boys. I must join
my brave Fritz."
In a few moments I landed; the dogs met me with evident tokens of
pleasure, but kept whining uneasily, and looking toward the deep
darkness of the woods whence the lion had come.
This behavior made me cautious; and, seeing nothing of Fritz, I lingered
by the boat, when suddenly a lioness bounded from the shadow of the
trees, into the light diffused by the fire.
At sight of the blazing fagots she paused, as though startled; passed
with uncertain step round the outskirts of the illuminated circle; and
uttered roarings, which were evidently calls to her mate, whose dead
body she presently discovered.
Finding him motionless, her manner betokened the greatest concern; she
touched him with her forepaws, smelt round him, and licked his bleeding
wounds. Then, raising her head, she gnashed her teeth, and gave forth
the most lamentable and dreadful sound I ever heard; a mingled roar and
howl, which was like the expression of grief, rage, and a vow to be
revenged, all in one.
Crack! Another shot: the creature's right forepaw was lamed; and the
dogs, seeing me raise my gun, suddenly gathered courage, and ran forward
just as I fired. My shot also wounded the lioness, but not mortally, and
the most terrific combat ensued.
It was impossible to fire again, for fear of wounding the dogs. The
scene was fearful beyond description. Black night surrounded us; the
fitful blaze of the fire shed a strange, unnatural light on the
prostrate body of the huge dead lion, and on the wounded lioness, who
fought desperately against the attack of the four gallant dogs; while
the cries, roars, and groans of anguish and fury uttered by all the
animals were enough to try the stoutest nerves.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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