was still over a mile away.

When we had settled down comfortably to dinner that night, I fired
Spooner's sporting ardour by telling him of the fine pair of lions who
had watched us skinning their companion, and we agreed at once to go
out next day and try to bag them both. Spooner and I had often had many
friendly arguments in regard to the comparative courage of the lion and
the tiger, he holding the view that "Stripes" was the more formidable
foe, while I, though admitting to the full-the courage of the tiger,
maintained from lively personal experience that the lion when once
roused was unequalled for pluck and daring, and was in fact the most
dangerous enemy one could meet with. He may at times slink off and not
show fight; but get him in the mood, or wound him, and only his death
or yours will end the fray--that, at least, was my experience of East
African lions. I think that Spooner has now come round to my opinion,
his conversion taking place the next day in a very melancholy manner.

CHAPTER XXIV

BHOOTA'S LAST SHIKAR

Long after I had retired to rest that night I lay awake listening to
roar answering roar in every direction round our camp, and realised
that we were indeed in the midst of a favourite haunt of the king of
beasts. It is one thing to hear a lion in captivity, when one knows he
is safe behind iron bars; but quite another to listen to him when he is
ramping around in the vicinity of one's fragile tent, which with a
single blow he could tear to pieces. Still, all this roaring was of
good omen for the next day's sport.

According to our over-night arrangement, we were up betimes in the
morning, but as there was a great deal of work to be done before we
could get away, it was quite midday before we made ready to start. I
ought to mention before going further that as a rule Spooner declined
my company on shooting trips, as he was convinced that I should get
"scuppered" sooner or later if I persisted in going after lions with a
"popgun," as he contemptuously termed my .303. Indeed, this was rather
a bone of contention between us, he being a firm believer (and rightly)
in a heavy, weapon for big and dangerous game, while I always did my
best to defend the .303 which I was in the habit of using. On this
occasion we effected a compromise for the day, I accepting the loan of
his spare 12-bore rifle as a second gun in case I should get to close
quarters. But my experience has been that it is alway