think of
yourself only; you have not the heart of a chief. Why don't you kill
your own beef? You must have a stone in your chest, and no heart at
all."

"That's werry flowery lingo, but it don't seem to convince him," said
Disco, with a quiet smile, as the lion, which had been growling
continuously over its meal all the time, wound up Chimbolo's speech with
another terrific roar.

At this point another believer in transmigration of souls, a quiet man
who seldom volunteered remarks on any subject, stepped forward and began
seriously to expostulate with the lion.

"It is very wrong of you," he said, "to treat strangers in this fashion.
You might have more respect for Englishmen who have come to see your
land, and never did you any harm. We are travelling peaceably through
the country; we never kill anybody, and never steal anything; the
buffalo-meat is ours, not yours, and it ill becomes a great chief like
you to be prowling about in the dark, like a hyena, trying to steal the
meat of strangers. Surely you can hunt for yourself--there is plenty of
meat in the forest." [See Livingstone's _Zambesi and its Tributaries_,
page 160.]

As the lion was equally deaf to this man's reasoning, Harold thought it
right to try a more persuasive plan. He drew up in a line all the men
who had guns, and at a word of command they fired a volley of balls into
the jungle, in the direction whence the sounds issued. A dead silence
followed, but it was deemed advisable not to venture in to see the
effect, as men had frequently lost their lives by so doing. A watch,
however, was kept during the night, and the fires were well replenished,
for they knew that the king of the forest usually shrinks from doing his
evil deeds in the light of a strong camp-fire. We say usually--because
they are not always thus shy. Authentic instances are on record of
lions having leaped into the centre of a bivouac, and carried off one of
the men in spite of being smitten in the face with flaming firebrands.
Fortunately the lion of which we write thought "discretion the better
part of valour." He retired peaceably, nevertheless Disco and his
friend continued to dream of him all night so vividly that they started
up several times, and seized their rifles, under the impression that he
had roared his loudest into their very ears, and after each of these
occasions they crept back into their sleeping bags to re-dream of the
lion!

The "bag" which formed ea