I Little Knew The Trouble That Was
In Store For Me, Or How Narrow Were To Be My
Own Escapes From Sharing Poor Ungan Singh's
Fate.
That same night I sat up in a tree close to
the late jemadar's tent, hoping that the lions
would return to it for another victim.
I was
followed to my perch by a few of the more
terrified coolies, who begged to be allowed to sit
up in the tree with me; all the other workmen
remained in their tents, but no more doors were
left open. I had with me my .303 and a 12-bore
shot gun, one barrel loaded with ball and the
other with slug. Shortly after settling down to
my vigil, my hopes of bagging one of the brutes
were raised by the sound of their ominous roaring
coming closer and closer. Presently this ceased,
and quiet reigned for an hour or two, as lions
always stalk their prey in complete silence. All
at once, however, we heard a great uproar and
frenzied cries coming from another camp about
half a mile away; we knew then that the lions
had seized a victim there, and that we should
see or hear nothing further of them that night.
Next morning I found that one of the brutes
had broken into a tent at Railhead Camp - whence
we had heard the commotion during the night - and
had made off with a poor wretch who was lying
there asleep. After a night's rest, therefore, I
took up my position in a suitable tree near this
tent.
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