# The red book of animal stories/An Adventure of Gérard, the Lion Hunter

AN ADVENTURE OF GÉRARD, THE LION HUNTER
The great interest taken in animals by Alexandre Dumas is well known to all readers of the Animal Story Books, but the stories told in them refer generally to tame or tameable animals. The great novelist, however, was full of interest in every kind of beast, tame or wild, and delighted to hear thrilling stories of hunting adventures, and to write them down afterwards for the benefit of his readers.
He was dining with some friends one evening, when his servant asked to see him, and said: ‘They have been waiting for you this half-hour, sir.’
Dumas sprang to his feet, and would have hurried from the room at once, but was stopped by the question:
‘Who are waiting for you?’
‘Gérard, the lion hunter, and his orderly Amida,’ was the answer, as Dumas vanished through the doorway in great haste.
In ten minutes he was at home, and there he found the great hunter, and a few other friends all questioning and listening to him.
Gérard, who was an officer in one of the Algerian Regiments of Spahis, was about thirty years of age, with a quiet, gentle face, and clear blue eyes. Amida was a tall stately Arab, of five or six and twenty, and as he sat in one corner of the library, wrapped in his white burnous, he was a striking and picturesque figure.
​After warm greetings, and some talk about general subjects and various travels and mutual friends, Dumas sat down to bis writing table, drew a sheet of paper towards him, and taking up a pen, he said: ‘Now, my dear Gerard, a hunt, come; anyone at haphazard from amongst your twenty-five lions—but a really fine lion, you know, not one of those you went to see at the Gardens, and which Amida took for sham lions; but a great, roaring, magnificent lion of the Atlas.’
Gerard smiled, and turning towards Amida said a few words to him in his own language, as though consulting him on the choice of the story. Amida bent his head in assent. Then Gerard turned to Dumas, and in his calm, gentle voice began his story:
I had killed the lioness on the 19th of July, and from the 19th to the 27th I had searched in vain for the lion. I was in my tent with eight or ten Arabs, some my own men, the rest inhabitants of the settlement where I was. We were talking
‘Of what?’
‘Why of lions, of course. When you are on a lion hunt, you naturally talk of nothing but lions. An old Arab was telling me a curious legend, several hundred years old, and of which a young girl of his tribe was the heroine.’
‘And a lion the hero?’
‘Yes; a lion.’
‘Oh, pray let us hear the legend too,’ cried Dumas.
‘Very well, then,’ said Gerard. ‘Here it is:’—
Many centuries ago, there lived a young girl who was very proud and haughty. Not that she was in any way greater or richer than others. Her father had nothing but his tent, his horse and his gun; but she was very, very beautiful, and it was her beauty that made her so disdainful.
One day, when she went to the neighbouring forest to cut sticks, she saw a lion confine through the trees.
LION FALLS IN LOVE WITH AISSA.
​The only weapon she had was the little axe which she used in her wood-cutting; but if she had been armed with a gun, a pistol and a dagger as well, she would have been far too frightened to use them—so majestic, proud and powerful was this lion. Her limbs trembled under her, and she would have screamed aloud for help, but her voice died in her throat. She felt sure the lion was going to make signs to her to follow him, so that he might devour her at his ease, in some favourite spot, for lions are not only greedy but dainty.
‘I am quite willing to admit that, my dear Gérard,’ broke in Dumas; ‘but I did not quite understand one remark you made.’
‘Which?’
‘You said she was sure the lion was going to make signs to her to follow him?’
‘Yes. Well?’
‘Ask Amida whether, when a lion meets an Arab, he takes the trouble to carry him off?’
Amida shook his head, and raised his eyes in a way which clearly implied: ‘Ah, indeed! he’s not such a fool as that.’
Dumas pressed for further particulars, and was told what he did not know before, that lions have magic powers. A lion has only to gaze for a few moments at a man, and he completely fascinates him, and the man has to follow the lion wherever he pleases. This point settled, Gerard went on:
The girl then paused, trembling, and expecting a sign from the lion to follow him, when, to her great surprise, she saw him approach, gently, smiling, after his fashion, and bowing in a polite manner.
She crossed her hands on her breast and said: ‘What does my lord desire of his humble servant?’
The lion replied quite clearly, ‘Anyone as lovely as you are, Aïssa, is a queen, not a servant.’
Aïssa stared in astonishment at this answer, delighted ​by the gentle tones of her formidable acquaintance, and surprised that this strange and splendid lion should know her name.
‘Who can have told you what I am called, my lord?’ she inquired.
‘The breeze which loves you, and which, after playing through your hair, carries its perfume to the roses as it sighs “Aïssa!” The stream which loves you, and which, after bathing your fair feet, waters the moss in my cave as it murmurs “Aïssa!” The bird which, since it heard your voice, has been jealous of you, and died of pique as it cried “Aïssa!”’
The girl blushed with pleasure, and began to arrange her veil, taking great care, however, to do it in such a way that the lion could see her all the better; for whether the flatterer is a lion or a fox, and the one flattered an Arab maiden or a crow, you see the result of flattery is always much the same everywhere, and with every one.
The lion, who had hitherto remained at a little distance, now ventured to draw nearer to the girl, but seeing her begin to tremble again, he asked, in his tenderest and most anxious voice: What is the matter, Aïssa?’
She longed to answer, ‘I am afraid of you, my lord,’ but did not dare; so said, ‘The Touareg tribe is not far off, and I am so afraid of the Touaregs.’
The lion smiled, after the fashion of lions. ‘When you are with me,’ he said, ‘you need fear nothing.’
‘But,’ replied Aïssa, ‘I shall not always have the honour of your company. It is getting late, and my father’s tent is some way from here.’
‘I will escort you home,’ said the lion.
Refusal was impossible, and Aïssa had no choice but to accept. The lion came up close, and held out his head as a support, much as a gentleman might offer a lady his arm; the girl laid her hand on his mane, and, side by side, they set out for the tent of Aïssa’s father.
On their way they met gazelles, who started away ​scared; hyænas, who crouched down in fear; and terrified men and women, who fell on their knees.
But the lion said to the gazelles ‘Do not flee;’ to the hyænas ‘Do not be afraid,’ and to the men and women ‘Stand up; for the sake of this young girl, whom I love, I will not harm you.’
And all—men, women and animals—gazed with amazement at the lion and the girl, and asked each other, in
THE LION SAID TO THE GAZELLES ‘DO NOT FLEE’
their various tongues, whether this strange pair could be going on a pilgrimage to Mecca to worship at the tomb of Mohammed.
At last Aïssa and her escort drew near the settlement, and when they were only some yards from the tent of Aïssa’s father, which was the first as you entered the village, the lion stopped, and with the utmost courtesy asked the young girl’s leave to kiss her.
​Aïssa bent down her face, and the lion lightly brushed her lips with his.
Then he made a gesture of farewell, and sat down to watch till she should have reached her father’s house in safety.
On her way there Aïssa turned two or three times, and each time she saw the lion on the same spot. At length she reached the tent.
‘Ah! there you are!’ cried her father; ‘I have been very uneasy.’ The girl smiled. ‘I was afraid you might have met with some unlucky adventure.’ She smiled still more. ‘But here you are, and I see I have been mistaken.’
‘So you have, father,’ said she: ‘for, instead of an unlucky adventure, I have had a very lucky one.’
‘And what was that?’ asked he.
‘I met a lion!’
At these words, seldom as Arabs show their feelings, Aïssa’s father turned pale.
‘A lion!’ he cried, ‘and he has not devoured you?’
‘On the contrary, he paid me many compliments on my beauty, offered to see me home, and escorted me back.’
The Arab thought his daughter must be taking leave of her senses. ‘Impossible,’ said he.
‘How, impossible?’
The father shook his head. ‘Do you wish to make me believe that a lion is capable of such attentions?’
Aïssa smiled again. ‘Do you wish to be convinced?’ asked she.
‘Yes; but how?’
‘Come to the door of the tent and you will see him, either seated where I left him, or returning to the forest.’
‘Wait till I get my gun,’ said the father rising.
‘What do you want a gun for?’ asked the girl proudly; ‘are you not with me?’
And drawing her father by his burnous, she led him ​to the opening of the tent. But the lion was no longer to be seen at the place where she had left him. She looked all round but could see nothing of him.
‘Bah, you have been dreaming!’ said her father, as they went back into the tent.
‘Indeed I can assure you that I seem to see him still,’ replied Aïssa.
‘What was he like?’
‘He must have been between four and five feet high, and nearly eight feet long,’ replied the girl.
‘Well?’
‘With a superb mane.’
‘Yes?’
‘Eyes as bright and yellow as gold.’
‘Well?’
‘Teeth like ivory, but——’ and the girl hesitated.
‘But?’ repeated her father.
‘But,’ she resumed in a lower voice, ‘he had not a very nice smell.’
She had barely uttered these words when a fearful roar was heard just behind the tent, then a second some five hundred yards off, and a third at about half a mile further still.
Then there was silence. Evidently the lion, who no doubt wished to hear what Aïssa would say about him, had made a circle so as to listen behind the tent, and was now hastening away mortified by what he had overheard.
A month passed by, and Aïssa had almost forgotten her adventure, when one day she was told to go to the forest again and cut sticks. Having got what she needed and bound them together in a faggot, she was about to leave, when she heard a slight noise behind her and turned round.
There was the lion, seated a few paces off and looking at her.
‘Good morning, Aïssa,’ he said, in a dry tone.
​‘Good morning, my lord,’ replied Aïssa, rather nervously, as she thought of the past. ‘Can I do anything for your lordship?’
‘You can do me a service.’
‘What is it?’
‘Come near me.’
The girl drew near trembling inwardly.
‘Here I am.’
‘Good. Now lift up your axe.’
She obeyed.
‘Now strike me with it on the head.’
‘But, my lord, you—you—can’t mean——’
‘On the contrary, I do mean so.’
‘But my lord——’
‘Strike!’
‘Really, my lord?’
‘Will you strike?’
‘Oh, yes, my lord,’ said Aïssa, more frightened than ever. ‘Hard or light?’
‘As hard as ever you can.’
‘But I shall hurt you!’
‘What’s that to you?’
‘And you really wish it?’
‘I really do.’
So the girl struck as she was bid, and the axe made a deep cut between the lion’s eyes. It is ever since then that lions have that straight furrow in their faces which is particularly noticeable when they frown.
‘Thank you, Aïssa,’ said the lion, and with three great bounds he vanished into the depth of the forest.
‘Dear me!’ thought the girl, rather hurt at his disappearance; ‘I wonder why he never offered to see me home to-day!’
Of course this second adventure of Aïssa’s caused a great deal of excitement, but the most ingenious brain could make no guess as to what might be the intentions of this strange and mysterious lion.
AÏSSA’S FATHER FINDS HER AXE
​A month later Aïssa once more returned to the forest. She had barely had time to cut a few sticks when the lion emerged from behind some shrubs; no longer gracious and affectionate as at first, or melancholy as at their second meeting, but looking gloomy and almost threatening. Aïssa longed to turn and flee, but the lion’s glance seemed to root her feet to the spot. He approached, and she felt that if she attempted to take a step she should certainly fall down.
‘Look at my forehead,’ said the lion sternly.
‘Let my lord remember that it was only by his express orders that I struck him with my axe.’
‘I do remember, and I thank you. That is not what I wish to discuss with you.’
‘What does your lordship wish to discuss with me?’
‘I wish you to look at my wound.’
‘I am looking.’
‘How is it going on?’
‘Wonderfully well, my lord, it is nearly healed.’
‘This proves, Aïssa,’ said the lion, ‘that wounds given to the body are very different from those inflicted on the feelings. The former heal with time, but the latter never.’
This moral sentence was followed by a sharp cry and then complete silence.
Three days later Aïssa’s father, searching everywhere for his daughter, found her axe. But of Aïssa herself there was no trace, nor was anything ever heard of her again.
The Arab had barely concluded the legend (said Gérard) when a well-known sound sent a thrill through us all. It was the roar of a lion, probably of the one I had been seeking the last eight or ten days. I sprang at my gun, Amida seized his, and we both hurried towards the spot from which the sound came. It seemed to be more than a mile off. We counted three roars; then the lion ceased, and we marched on towards him.
​When we had walked half a mile or so we heard the shouts of men and barking of dogs. We quickened our pace and fell in with a troop of armed men leading a number of dogs of all kinds. The lion had passed that way. He had entered the settlement next to ours, had scaled the enclosure where the flock was kept, and had earned off a sheep. He had secured his dinner; and that was why he had not roared again.
This was hardly the moment in which to attack him; lions do not like being disturbed at their meals. So I begged the Arabs to follow up the track—always an easy matter when a sheep is the victim—and I returned to my tent.
‘But why is it easier to track a lion when he carries off a sheep than when he takes some other animal?’ asked Dumas.
Gérard smiled. ‘That is another story,’ said he, ‘and if you want to hear it, here it is:’—
One day a lion was talking to the Marabout Sidi-Moussa. Now if the lion is the most powerful of beasts, the Marabout is the most holy of dervishes. So the two were conversing very much on an equality.
‘You are very strong,’ said the Marabout to the lion.
‘Very,’ replied the lion.
‘And what do you consider the measure of your strength to be?’
‘My strength is as the strength of forty horses.’
‘Then you can seize a bullock, throw it over your shoulder, and carry it off?’ asked the Marabout.
‘By the aid of Allah, I can,’ said the lion.
‘Or a horse, I suppose?’
‘By the aid of Allah, I can carry off a horse as easily as a bullock.’
‘Or a wild boar?’
‘By the help of Allah, I should do with the wild boar as with the horse.’
‘And a sheep?’
​The lion began to laugh; ‘I should think so!’ said he.
But the first time the lion captured a sheep he was much surprised to find that he could not throw it over his shoulder, as he did with far larger and heavier animals, but had to drag it along the ground. This was the result of his proud boasting, and of forgetting to say,
THE LION LAUGHS AT THE MARABOUT’S QUESTION
as he did about the larger animals: ‘By the aid of Allah!’
Ever since then the lions have been obliged to drag any sheep they may capture along the ground, leaving a track after them.
So you see why I felt sure of being able to track my game later on. Well, I had hardly regained my tent ​when the owner of the sheep arrived, hot and panting, and told me that he had followed the traces of the lion for a mile and a half, but had been unable to go further. However, all his information was very precise, and I was able to give orders to my two beaters, who, luckily, were experienced men, for a track is far more difficult to follow up in summer than in winter.
They were both Arabs, from thirty to thirty-five years of age, strong, hardy, and cunning—true sons of the desert.
One was called Bilkassem, and the other Amar Ben-Sarah.
They divided the work between them, Bilkassem taking the animal from the time he left the settlement, and Amar Ben-Sarah from the point where the owner of the sheep had lost the track.
After a search of nearly two miles, Bilkassem found the skin of the sheep—for the lion is a dainty animal, and does not eat hides; and, on reaching the neighbouring well, Bilkassem found a mark left by Amar Ben-Sarah. It was needless for him to go any further. His comrade was on the track, and he knew there was not much chance of its being lost. So Bilkassem returned to the tent and brought me his report.
Meantime Ben-Sarah followed the lion.
Towards mid-day Amar Ben-Sarah returned too. The lion had retired into its lair. The Arab had described a circle of a thousand paces round his den, and thus made sure of finding the exact spot. It was nearly 4,000 yards off.
My mind was made up, in all probability we should meet that very day.
The day wore on. I felt nervous and excited, and could neither eat, read, nor occupy myself with anything, in my feverish impatience, and shortly before sunset I set out. It is the time when any natives who may happen to have a lion in their neighbourhood invariably ​stop at home. From the first moment of the short twilight till the following day, any Arab who has heard that warning roar feels the greatest reluctance to put a foot outside his tent. But the very reason which kept them safely indoors determined me to choose this particular hour, for this is the time when the lion awakens from his mid-day sleep and starts out in search of prey.
When I reached the place marked by Amar Ben-Sarah I found I still had a quarter of an hour’s daylight, and might study the landscape.
It was the entrance to a mountain gorge. The slopes on either side and the bottom of the gorge itself were thickly wooded, the trees interspersed here and there with bare rock, which stood out like gigantic bones, and were still burning after the heat of the day.
We plunged into the gorge, Ben-Sarah acting as guide. Behind him he dragged a goat, who was to serve as a decoy for the lion.
About fifty paces from the lion’s lair there was a clearing, which I chose as my point of vantage. Amar cut down a sapling, sharpened one end, and planted it firmly in the middle of the clearing. Then he tied the goat to it, leaving its rope a couple of yards long.
As he was completing his operations we heard a loud and prolonged yawn at no great distance. It was the lion, only half awake as yet, but who was looking at us, and who yawned as he looked.
The bleatings of the goat had wakened him. He was quietly sitting at the foot of a rock and deliberately licking his thick lips, looking all the time full of the most magnificent contempt for us.
I hastened to order my men back, and they were not sorry to take up a position some two or three hundred yards behind me. Amida alone insisted on remaining close by me.
I carefully examined the spot. A ravine separated me ​from the lion. The clearing might he forty-five paces round, consequently fifteen paces across.
I was alone, and had to choose my place. I took up a position at the very edge of the wood, so that the goat was between the lion and me—the goat was seven or eight paces from me, the lion about sixty.
Whilst I had been making my little inspection the lion had disappeared; there was evidently no time to be lost in preparing to receive him, as he might fall upon me at any moment. An oak tree offered the support I always look for on these occasions. I cut off the small boughs which might have hindered my movements, and sat down with my back against the trunk. I was hardly seated before the signs of agitation shown by the goat told me plainly that something was going on close to us. The goat dragged at his cord with all his might towards me, but kept his eyes fixed on the opposite side.
I understood that the lion had taken a roundabout path to reach us, and was now approaching, following, as he did so, the fold of the ravine.
I was not mistaken. At the end of ten minutes I saw his huge head appear at the top of the ravine which had at first divided us, then his shoulders, and then his whole body. He walked slowly, not yet fully awake, and with his eyes half closed, for the lion is a great sleeper and very lazy.
Having reached the top he found himself about seven paces from the goat and fifteen from me. I remained settled where I was, and took aim at him right between the eyes. For a moment I felt tempted to pull the trigger, but the fascination of watching the superb creature and noting the movements and ways of my formidable antagonist kept me motionless. For some moments I enjoyed such an interview as few men can boast of. I felt I deserved it, for it was two years since I had been actually face to face with a lion, and this was one of the finest and largest I had ever seen. At the end of a few minutes he
THE LION APPEARS AT THE TOP OF THE RAVINE
​crouched down perfectly flat on the ground, then he crossed his paws in the front of him and pillowed his head upon them. His eye was fixed on me, and his glance never wavered from mine for an instant. He seemed to be wondering what this man could be doing in his kingdom without even recognising his royalty. Five minutes more passed. In the position he had taken up nothing would have been easier for me than to have killed him.
All of a sudden he rose, and began to be agitated, making a couple of steps forward, then one or two backwards—to the right, to the left—and moving his tail like a young cat who is getting angry.
No doubt he could not understand this goat with its cord or this man who kept watching him, but his instinct told him there was some trap.
Meantime I sat quite still, the gun at my shoulder and my finger on the trigger, following every movement with my eye. One spring, and I should be between his claws. His anxiety increased every moment, and almost infected me. His tail lashed against his sides, his movements were more rapid and his eye kindled.
To hesitate longer would be suicidal. I seized the moment when he turned his left flank towards me, took a steady aim and fired.
The lion staggered on his legs and uttered a frightful roar, but did not fall.
I fired my second shot. Then, without looking, for I was sure I had hit him, I threw down my first gun and seized the second which was lying ready loaded beside me. When I turned round again the lion had disappeared. I remained motionless, fearing a surprise, and looking round on all sides for a hidden foe.
I heard the lion roar. He had fled into the bed of the ravine, and was hurrying back to his lair.
I waited a few minutes more, or perhaps they were only seconds, for one does not measure time accurately in such circumstances.
​Then, hearing nothing, I rose cautiously and went to inspect the spot where the lion had received my two shots.
The goat was panting on the ground, terrified, but otherwise unhurt.
I soon realised that the lion had been hit by both my balls, and they had pierced him right through. Every hunter knows that an animal can go further with a wound right through the body than if the ball is lodged in its inside. I set off on the track. It was not difficult to follow.
As I supposed, he had regained his lair. At this moment I saw the heads of Amida, Amar Ben-Sarah, and Bilkassem appear at the top of the ravine. They approached with caution, not knowing whether I was dead or alive, and prepared to fire. When they saw me they shouted with joy and ran to join me. They wanted to start at once in pursuit of the lion, but I held them back; for, in my opinion, the lion had been dangerously, probably mortally, wounded, but the heart had not been touched. He was still full of strength, and his last struggles would be terrible.
As we were discussing this, eight or ten more men, armed with guns, joined us. They had heard my two shots, and, like Amida, Bilkassem, and Amar Ben-Sarah, ran to see what had happened.
Their first cry was ‘Let us follow him!’
I assured them they would run great danger. But no; ‘Stay there,’ said they, ‘and we’ll bring him to you dead.’
It was useless to repeat that the lion, in my opinion, was still very much alive indeed; they insisted on entering the wood.
Finding that nothing would turn them from their project, I determined to go with them. But I took my precautions. I reloaded my favourite gun, gave one to Ben-Sarah and another to Amida, and, thus prepared, I entered the wood on the track of the lion.
​It was almost dark; the wood was thick with shrubs and undergrowth, and one had almost to crawl along.
My three Arabs followed me, and the men from the settlement came behind them. It took us nearly a quarter of an hour to walk fifty steps, and even that we did with much difficulty.
After fifty steps more it was quite dark, and we had lost the track.
There was a clearing close at hand, and we made for it so as to reconnoitre.
Whilst we were scattered about in the clearing, trying to make out some vestige of the track, either by accident or by awkwardness a gun suddenly went off.
Instantly a hoarse roar was heard, and the lion fell amongst us as though he had literally dropped from the clouds.
There was an instant of intense terror. Every gun except mine went off at the same moment, and it was only a wonder that we did not all kill each other. Needless to say that not a ball touched the lion.
Through the fire and smoke I saw all the men round me except Amar Ben-Sarah. Then from tbe other side of the clearing I heard a piercing cry.
I ran towards the spot from where the sound came, and in the dusk only saw the man and the lion when I was actually upon them.
Amar Ben-Sarah was lying on the ground, and the lion standing over him.
I felt giddy, and thought my legs were going to bend under me, but the weakness passed like a flash of lightning.
The lion, seeing the muzzle of my gun so near his bead, turned to me with a savage look. In another second he would have been upon me; but I was too near to miss the fatal spot. I pulled the trigger, he staggered a few paces to one side, and then dropped down dead beside the man he was about to kill.