ne would fire a snap shot at a snipe. The
bullet told, for I distinctly heard its thud above the rushing sound
caused by the passage of the lion through the air. Next second I was
swept to the ground (luckily I fell into a low, creeper-clad bush, which
broke the shock), and the lion was on the top of me, and the next those
great white teeth of his had met in my thigh--I heard them grate against
the bone. I yelled out in agony, for I did not feel in the least
benumbed and happy, like Dr. Livingstone--whom, by the way, I knew very
well--and gave myself up for dead. But suddenly, at that moment, the
lion's grip on my thigh loosened, and he stood over me, swaying to and
fro, his huge mouth, from which the blood was gushing, wide opened.
Then he roared, and the sound shook the rocks.

"To and fro he swung, and then the great head dropped on me, knocking
all the breath from my body, and he was dead. My bullet had entered in
the centre of his chest and passed out on the right side of the spine
about half way down the back.

"The pain of my wound kept me from fainting, and as soon as I got my
breath I managed to drag myself from under him. Thank heavens, his
great teeth had not crushed my thigh-bone; but I was losing a great deal
of blood, and had it not been for the timely arrival of Tom, with whose
aid I loosed the handkerchief from my wrist and tied it round my leg,
twisting it tight with a stick, I think that I should have bled to
death.

"Well, it was a just reward for my folly in trying to tackle a family of
lions single-handed. The odds were too long. I have been lame ever
since, and shall be to my dying day; in the month of March the wound
always troubles me a great deal, and every three years it breaks out
raw.

"I need scarcely add that I never traded the lot of ivory at Sikukuni's.
Another man got it--a German--and made five hundred pounds out of it
after paying expenses. I spent the next month on the broad of my back,
and was a cripple for six months after that. And now I've told you the
yarn, so I will have a drop of Hollands and go to bed. Good-night to
you all, good-night!"

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Long Odds, by H. Rider Haggard

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