n forced to range themselves
across the narrow land front of the thicket and no chance of his exit
on the river front, only two lines of strategy remained: it was either
fire the bush and drive him out upon us or enter the bush on hands and
knees and creep about till I sighted him. The latter was well-nigh
suicidal, for it was absolutely sure he would scent, hear, and locate
me before I could see him, and thus would be almost complete master of
the situation. Naturally, therefore, I first had the bush fired, as
near to windward as the bend of the river permitted, and took a stand
covering his probable line of exit from the thicket. But it was a
failure--not enough dead wood to carry the fire through the bush and it
soon flickered and died out. Thus nothing remained but the last
alternative, and I took it.

"Dropping on hands and knees, I began to creep into the thicket. Soon
my hands were bleeding from the dry mimosa thorns littering the ground,
my back from the thorny boughs arching low above me. For some distance
I could see no more than the length of my rifle before me or to right
or left. Presently, when near the centre of the brush patch, Abdi
Dereh next behind me, a second _shikari_ behind him, and Djama Aout
bringing up the rear, I caught a glimpse of the lion's hind quarters
and tail, scarcely six feet ahead of me.

"I fired at once, most imprudently, for the exposure could not possibly
afford a fatal shot. Instantly after the shot, the lion circled the
dense clump immediately in front of me and charged me through a narrow
opening. As he came, I gave him my second barrel from the hip--no time
to aim--and in trying to spring aside out of his path, slipped in my
loose slippers and fell flat on my back.

"Later we learned that my first shot had torn through his loins and my
second had struck between neck and shoulder and ranged the entire
length of his body. But even the terrible shock of two great .450
cordite-driven balls did not serve to stop him, and the very moment I
hit the ground he lit diagonally across my body, his belly pressing
mine, his hot breath burning my cheek, his fierce eyes glaring into
mine.

"Though it seemed an age, the rest was a matter of seconds. Abdi
Dereh, my rifle-bearer, was in the act of shoving the gun muzzle
against the lion's ribs for a shot through the heart, when a shot from
without the bush--we never learned by whom fired, probably by one of
the pony men--broke hi