hant, and trembling with fear if a lion cub half
his size comes near him; but, after all, he is only a baby, and when
he is older he will be as brave as the rest.'

'Yes, he is only a baby,' answered the king who overheard them, 'it
will be all right by-and-by.' But, somehow, he sighed as he said it,
and the men looked at him and made no reply.

The years passed away, and Samba had become a tall and strong youth.
He was good-natured and pleasant, and was liked by all, and if during
his father's hunting parties he was seldom to be seen in any place of
danger, he was too great a favourite for much to be said.

'When the king holds the feast and declares him to be his heir, he
will cease to be a child,' murmured the rest of the people, as they
had done before; and on the day of the ceremony their hearts beat
gladly, and they cried to each other:

'It is Samba, Samba, whose chin is above the heads of other men, who
will defend us against the tribes of the robbers!'

* * * * *

Not many weeks after, the dwellers in the village awoke to find that
during the night their herds had been driven away, and their herdsmen
carried off into slavery by their enemies. Now was the time for Samba
to show the brave spirit that had come to him with his manhood, and to
ride forth at the head of the warriors of his race. But Samba could
nowhere be found, and a party of the avengers went on their way
without him.

It was many days later before he came back, with his head held high,
and a tale of a lion which he had tracked to its lair and killed, at
the risk of his own life. A little while earlier and his people would
have welcomed his story, and believed it all, but now it was too late.

'Samba the Coward,' cried a voice from the crowd; and the name stuck
to him, even the very children shouted it at him, and his father did
not spare him. At length he could bear it no longer, and made up his
mind to leave his own land for another where peace had reigned since
the memory of man. So, early next morning, he slipped out to the
king's stables, and choosing the quietest horse he could find, he rode
away northwards.

Never as long as he lived did Samba forget the terrors of that
journey. He could hardly sleep at night for dread of the wild beasts
that might be lurking behind every rock or bush, while, by day, the
distant roar of a lion would cause him to start so violently, that he
almost fell from his horse.