After a little they cease. Then one is quite likely to hear the
petulant, alarmed barking of zebra, or to feel the vibrations of many
hoofs. There is a sense of hurried, flurried uneasiness abroad on the
veldt.

The lion generally springs on his prey from behind or a little off the
quarter. By the impetus his own weight he hurls his victim forward,
doubling its head under, and very neatly breaking its neck. I have never
seen this done, but the process has been well observed and attested; and
certainly, of the many hundreds of lion kills I have taken the pains
to inspect, the majority had had their necks broken. Sometimes, but
apparently more rarely, the lion kills its prey by a bite in the back of
the neck. I have seen zebra killed in this fashion, but never any of the
buck. It may be possible that the lack of horns makes it more difficult
to break a zebra's neck because of the corresponding lack of leverage
when its head hits the ground sidewise; the instances I have noted may
have been those in which the lion's spring landed too far back to throw
the victim properly; or perhaps they were merely examples of the great
variability in the habits of felis leo.

Once the kill is made, the lion disembowels the beast very neatly
indeed, and drags the entrails a few feet out of the way. He then eats
what he wants, and, curiously enough, seems often to be very fond of the
skin. In fact, lacking other evidence, it is occasionally possible
to identify a kill as being that of a lion by noticing whether any
considerable portion of the hide has been devoured. After eating he
drinks. Then he is likely to do one of two things: either he returns
to cover near the carcass and lies down, or he wanders slowly and with
satisfaction toward his happy home. In the latter case the hyenas,
jackals, and carrion birds seize their chance. The astute hunter can
often diagnose the case by the general actions and demeanour of these
camp followers. A half dozen sour and disgusted looking hyenas seated
on their haunches at scattered intervals, and treefuls of mournfully
humpbacked vultures sunk in sadness, indicate that the lion has decided
to save the rest of his zebra until to-morrow and is not far away.
On the other hand, a grand flapping, snarling Kilkenny-fair of an
aggregation swirling about one spot in the grass means that the
principal actor has gone home.

It is ordinarily useless to expect to see the lion actually on his prey.
The feedin