The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1902-07-25
DEATH IN LION SHAKING.
The Chances Favor the Beast Wher
Accident Brings Him and
Man Together.

cules d. Niljoen, in the Era, the author
writes:
wan Aardt came to me and suggest
ed little lion stalking. Now knew
lions as we'll as he; deliberate hunting
for lion who mourns murdered mate
was proceeding so temerarious that
the most foolhardy of professional
hunters would not dare the conflict.
But in the near neighborhood of the
spot where Nine. Lioness had been
killed, there was one lion with an earth
quake voice, whose rumblings fascinat-
ed the fiery spirit of Van Aardt.
am going he said.
II could not let him go alone, for we
had fought too often side by side. We
started off, my reckless comrade lay
ing out, in calmest confidence, the art
less plan he had of walking up to that
tumultous hell of wrath incarnate
and of blowing few lethal holes in it
with his Mauser. As we came nearer,
the roars ceased. The lion, weary with
his lmprecations OF the night, had
gone away from the scene of his be-
reavement for rest and sleep. But we
found. in the jungle's depths, the foot
way he had trod; in sentry path of
20 feet, he had stalked back and forth
for - long hours, calling aloud for
vengeance
kristmansen, who looked upon Van
Aardt as hot-headed mailman for the
time, decided he would use the morn
ing for peaceful springbok hunt, aid
took his Kaffir boy along. After half
an hours close tracking, the Kaf1r,
who had been in advance, appeared at
his elbow with an impish suddenness,
and whispered word:
Baas, lion!'
"krlstmansen stared ahead of him.
There, in tiny clearing not 80 yards
away, the monarch stood, his name
quivering with the intensity of his at
tention and his brilliant eye balls
cleaning in an effort to penetrate the
single veil of cover that hid the hunter
from his view. The Kaffir had faith
in his master that was sublime.
Shoot, Baas, shoot!'
"Kristmansen knew the death stood
waiting for him in the clearing beyond.
The chances were all against fatal
first shot. The wounded lion would
tear him into shreds of mangled flesh
before he could have time to fly. Step
by step, his very breath pent up, he
made the slow retreat. The Kaffir,
fancying all his master need do was
fire a single shot, accompanied him
with an expression of disdain. For ten
good minutes, Kristmansen paced
backward; and then came swiftly to
the camp again upon the chance of
making up party whose numbers
would mean safety in concerted at
tack. But the majority of us were
away, and that lion, with all the others
among the spouses of FAIRIES lioness,
went unmolested from that day forth.
Il was in Pretoria little later and
saw sight that told me how wise
kristmansen had been. The Oldest lion
hunter of the Transvaal shook me by
the hand-and used his left hand for
the greeting. The other arm hung,
wlthered and helpless, at his side. Only
half his face was there to speak to me.
The other half went into lions nav
a few months earlier. He was hunt.
ing springbok with his son, and carried
an ancient muzzle-loader. A dead shot.
the old man deserted buck not so feet
away, and kneeling, fred. The crack
of the rifle was answered by the snarl-
ing roar of a wounded lion. The bull
let. passing through the buck, had
struck the mighty beast as he was
about to spring. And it had no more
than wounded him. He leaped for the
smoke, coming on in flying bounds,
while my old friend fumbled wildly
with his powder horn. He was too slow.
The bullet had not dropped into the
barrel before the lion was upon him.
One crunch of his tremendous laws.
and an arm was stripped to the bone.
and the side Of the face had
The cavernous throat above
the PROSTATE man roared once more
before the teeth could clash together,
when the son. running up, put his rifle
barrel to the lions side and drove a
bullet through bis heart.
The chances are in favor of the lion
when accident brings him and man to.
gether."
Don't Overlook the Good.
! l.