Being
anxious to return to my people before night, I did not attempt to
follow the troop.
My followers were not a little gratified to see me returning, for
terror had taken hold of their minds, and they expected that the lion
would return, and, emboldened by the success of the preceding night,
would prove still more daring in his attack. The lion would most
certainly have returned, but fate had otherwise ordained. My health
had been better in the last three days: my fever was leaving me, but I
was, of course, still very weak. It would still be two hours before
the sun would set, and feeling refreshed by a little rest, and able
for further work, I ordered the steeds to be saddled, and went in
search of the lion.
I took John and Carey as after-riders, armed, and a party of the
natives followed up the spoor and led the dogs. The lion had dragged
the remains of poor Hendrick along a native footpath that led up the
river's side. We found fragments of his coat all along the spoor, and
at last the mangled coat itself. About six hundred yards from our camp
a dry river's course joined the Limpopo. At this spot was much cover,
and heaps of dry reeds and trees deposited by the Limpopo in some
great flood. The lion had left the footpath and entered this secluded
spot. I at once felt convinced that we were upon him, and ordered the
natives to make loose the dogs.
Pages:
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118