The Bait-Sepoys Had A Lamp Burning Inside Their
Part Of The Cage, And Were Each Armed With
A Martini Rifle, With Plenty Of Ammunition.
They
had also been given strict orders to shoot at once
if a lion should enter the trap.
Instead of doing
so, however, they were so terrified when he rushed
in and began to lash himself madly against the
bars of the cage, that they completely lost their
heads and were actually too unnerved to fire.
Not for some minutes - not, indeed, until Mr.
Farquhar, whose post was close by, shouted at
them and cheered them on - did they at all
recover themselves. Then when at last they did
begin to fire, they fired with a vengeance -
anywhere, anyhow. Whitehead and I were at
right angles to the direction in which they should
have shot, and yet their bullets came whizzing all
round us. Altogether they fired over a score of
shots, and in the end succeeded only in blowing
away one of the bars of the door, thus allowing
our prize to make good his escape. How they
failed to kill him several times over is, and always
will be, a complete mystery to me, as they could
have put the muzzles of their rifles absolutely
touching his body. There was, indeed, some
blood scattered about the trap, but it was small
consolation to know that the brute, whose capture
and death seemed so certain, had only been
slightly wounded.
Still we were not unduly dejected, and when
morning came, a hunt was at once arranged.
Accordingly we spent the greater part of the day
on our hands and knees following the lions through
the dense thickets of thorny jungle, but though
we heard their growls from time to time, we
never succeeded in actually coming up with them.
Of the whole party, only Farquhar managed to
catch a momentary glimpse of one as it bounded
over a bush.
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