The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1882-09-14
Chasing a Lion in South Africa.

During the night lions have been
prowlng about and keeping up q
hideous roaring, so hurry away in front
with the prospect of meeting one stroll
ing home in the gray light OF the early
hours. The air is raw and cold, SO /
march at the dOublc-quicll and reckless
ly thrust my hands to the bottom of my
pockets III the happy consciousness of
not being in Regent street. My two usual
attendants in my hunting expeditions
have considerably shriveicd up, and
have developed an ashy complexion I'M
pleasant to behold, and they sink around
shivcring with the cold and doubtless
enVylng me my pockets.
We soon get Il considerable distance
ahead of the caravan, and begin to keep
sharp look out for game. Several
herds are described at n distance;
but, not caring to go far out of the way,
we leave these unmolested. Matters,
however, do not become more promis-
ing, and we begin to conclude there is
to be no sport this morning. just as
that thought shapes itself down sinks
the guide in crouching position, while
he eXcitedly whispers: "A lion! u lionn'
lnStinctivcly we follow his example.
After hurried glance at my rifle |
cautiously raise my head. Looking in
the direction indicated 10y the guide
l am mortified at seeing Il fine lion
leisurely bounding away through the
long grass. Rising erect | fire pre-
cpitately. The lion, unharmcd, simply
pauscs for momentary stare and then
continues its course. Grinding out an
expression of intense VeXation, and
yielding to the impulse of the moment,
l rush after the animal in hot haste. Ny
servants, less eager and more wise than
l, remain where they were. 1t never
occurs to me that have only the re-,
naming cartridge of my double-barcIed
rifle for a possible encounter with the
enemy.
The movements Of the lion can only
be traced ny the shaking of the grass,
and with eye intcntly liked on that |
dash on pell-meli, tripping, stumbling
and gasping for breath, while my heart
palpitatcS with the excitement of the
chase. We thus keep up the race for
about 800 yards, when all at once the
shaking of the grass ceases, reminding
me that | must proceed with much more
caution lest rush abruptly into the
fervent embraces of his leOnine high
ness--a cOnsummation most devOutly to
be deprecated, seeing [ have no ambi-
ton for the worlds reprobation and Il
warning epitaph, Moving on very
stealthily for some time | suddenly
emerge into an open space, and as sud
denly halt transiiXed; for there stands
the lion at q distance of q little more
than fifteen yards, with its side toward
me, and evidently awaiting my ap-
proach. The momcntary shock gives
place instantly to a strange feeling Of cX-
ultation. With such II splendid oppor-
tunity for q shot am sure of my game!
Mentally, as by a flash, 1 picture my
self exhibiting the trophies of the
encounter to, an admiring troop of
trends. l level my gun, and bang! it
goes: TO my infinite modification, and,
as l think, against all the laws of
reason, there is neither the grand death
spring nor the last tragic roar. Un-
wounded and undaunted, there stands
my dangerous antagonist, ''Staring upon
the hunter? 1t takes one or two
seconds to let the grim realities OF the
SITUATION dawn upon my imagination.
only too evidently are the tables turned
upon me. l have no ammunition, and
dare not flee. To elk" him with nv
eye unfortunately does not occur to me
as practicable. On the contrary, /
nave very distinct consciousness that
ne has ''fiXed'' me, and. that I should
not be ungrateful for some convenient
tree from which might try the fasci-
naGlon OF the human gaze. Thus for a
hIIle space, which to me seemed hours,
we stand face to face. The lion seems
uncertain what to do, but finally re-
@ SolVes to treat me with contempt.
Turning with dignity, he gives one or
two powerful bounds and disappears in
the jungle, while I, limp and be-
draggled, return to my men. Good
Words.