In The Whole Of
My Life I Have Never Experienced Anything More
Nerve-Shaking Than To Hear The Deep Roars Of
These Dreadful Monsters Growing Gradually Nearer
And Nearer, And To Know That Some One Or
Other Of Us Was Doomed To Be Their Victim Before
Morning Dawned.
Once they reached the vicinity
of the camps, the roars completely ceased, and
we knew that they were stalking
For their prey.
Shouts would then pass from camp to camp,
"Khabar dar, bhaieon, shaitan ata" (" Beware,
brothers, the devil is coming "), but the warning
cries would prove of no avail, and sooner or later
agonising shrieks would break the silence, and
another man would be missing from roll-call next
morning.
I was naturally very disheartened at being
foiled in this way night after night, and was
soon at my wits' end to know what to do; it
seemed as if the lions were really "devils" after
all and bore a charmed life. As I have said
before, tracking them through the jungle was a
hopeless task; but as something had to be done
to keep up the men's spirits, I spent many a
weary day crawling on my hands and knees
through the dense undergrowth of the exasperating
wilderness around us. As a matter of
fact, if I had come up with the lions on any
of these expeditions, it was much more likely
that they would have added me to their list of
victims than that I should have succeeded in
killing either of them, as everything would have
been in their favour.
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