n went down on one knee and waited an hour, ay, a good couple,
and nothing turned up. Then he bethought him how, in his books, the
great lion-slayers never went out hunting without having a lamb or a
kid along with them, which they tied up a space before them, and set
bleating or baa-ing by jerking its foot with a string. Not having any
goat, the Tarasconer had the idea of employing an imitation, and he set
to crying in a tremulous voice:
"Baa-a-a!"
At first it was done very softly, because at bottom he was a little
alarmed lest the lion should hear him; but as nothing came, he baa-ed
more loudly. Still nothing. Losing patience, he resumed many times
running at the top of his voice, till the "Baa, baa, baa!" came out with
so much power that the goat began to be mistakable for a bull.
Unexpectedly, a few steps in front, some gigantic black thing appeared.
He was hushed. This thing lowered its head, sniffed the ground, bounded
up, rolled over, and darted off at the gallop, but returned and stopped
short. Who could doubt it was the lion? for now its four short legs
could plainly be seen, its formidable mane and its large eyes gleaming
in the gloom.
Up went his gun into position. Fire's the word! and bang, bang! it
was done. And immediately there was a leap back and the drawing of the
hunting-knife. To the Tarasconian's shot a terrible roaring replied.
"He's got it!" cried our good Tartarin as, steadying himself on his
sturdy supporters, he prepared to receive the brute's charge.
But it had more than its fill, and galloped off; howling. He did not
budge, for he expected to see the female mate appear, as the story-books
always lay it down she should.
Unhappily, no female came. After two or three hours' waiting the
Tarasconian grew tired. The ground was damp, the night was getting cool,
and the sea-breeze pricked sharply.
"I have a good mind to take a nap till daylight," he said to himself.
To avoid catching rheumatism, he had recourse to his patent tent. But
here's where Old Nick interfered! This tent was of so very ingenious a
construction that he could not manage to open it. In vain did he toil
over it and perspire an hour through--the confounded apparatus would
not come unfolded. There are some umbrellas which amuse themselves under
torrential rains with just such tricks upon you. Fairly tired out
with the struggle, the victim dashed down the machine and lay upon it,
swearing like the regular Southron h
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