ther up the broken thunderbolts of his strength, she laid a
hand on my arm, never so gently, and said: "Let me go down and meet him
face to face. I think he will not harm me."

"Madam," I exclaimed impetuously, "you will meet him up here, and face
to face, soon enough, I think."

"No, that will not do. You must trust the lion; as Daniel did."

I pushed her back, as she tried to pass down, almost violently.

"There!" I cried as I wheeled about and forced her before me for an
instant, "if you have real courage leap to the head of yonder column,
then on to the next! Quick! be brave enough to save yourself and----"

"No! I will not run away and leave you to die."

"For God's sake you will run away and save me."

"Why? How?"

"I will join you there, go! Quick, or it will be too late!"

Another leap of the lion! Bang! Bang!

This time he did not fall back, but held on by sheer force of his
powerful arms; his terrible claws tearing at the granite slab as they
hung and hooked over its outer edge.

Bang! Bang! Bang! The last shot. I hurled my revolver in his face, for
he had not flinched or given back a single grain. His breath and my
breath were mingled there in the smoke of my pistol. I heard--or did I
feel--his great hinder feet fastening in the steep earth under him for
his final struggle to the top?

I turned, saw that she had reached the farther column; and with three
leaps and a bound I had crossed the granite slabs and stood erect on the
nearer one! Not a moment had I left. The lion, with great noise of claws
on the granite, came tearing to the surface. I crouched down out of
breath on the outer edge of my column, so as to be surely out of reach
of his ponderous paws. I expected him to decide the matter at once, to
reach us or give it up instantly. But he seemed in no haste now. He
scarcely advanced at all, for what seemed to me to be a long time.
Finally, jerking his tail like the swift movement of a serpent, he
strode along the farthest edge of the granite slab and seemed to take no
notice of us whatever. Blood was dripping from his mouth, but he did not
seem to heed it.

Once more he strode with his old majesty, and seemed ashamed that he
should have descended to the indignity of a struggle to gain the place
where he now stood sullen and triumphant. Enraged? He was choking, dying
with rage; and yet this kingly creature would not even condescend to
look in our direction.

Why, I could feel his fearful