to side, her ears laid back, she stood there looking the landscape
over carefully point by point. She was searching for us, but as yet
could not locate us. It was really magnificent.

I attempted to throw in another cartridge, but because of my desire to
work the bolt quietly, in order not to attract the lioness's attention,
I did not pull it back far enough, and the cartridge jammed in the
magazine. As evidence of Memba Sasa's coolness and efficiency, it is to
be written that he became aware of this as soon as I did. He thrust
the.405 across my right side, at the same time withdrawing the
Springfield on the left. The motion was slight, but the lioness caught
it. Immediately she dropped her head and charged.

For the next few moments, naturally, I was pretty intent on lions.
Nevertheless a corner of my mind was aware of Memba Sasa methodically
picking away at the jammed rifle, and paying no attention whatever to
the beast. Also I heard Hill making picturesque remarks about his
gunbearer, who had bolted with his second gun.

The lioness charged very fast, but very straight, about in the tearing,
scrambling manner of a terrier after a thrown ball. I got in the first
shot as she came, the bullet ranging back from the shoulder, and Hill
followed it immediately with another from his.404 Jeffrey. She growled
at the bullets, and checked very slightly as they hit, but gave no other
sign. Then our second shots hit her both together. The mere shock
stopped her short, but recovering instantly, she sprang forward again.
Hill's third shot came next, and perceptibly slowed and staggered, but
did not stop her. By this time she was quite close, and my own third
shot reached her brain. She rolled over dead.

Decidedly she was a game beast, and stood more hammering than any other
lion I killed or saw killed. Before the final shot in the brain she had
taken one light bullet and five heavy ones with hardly a wince. Memba
Sasa uttered a loud grunt of satisfaction when she went down for good.
He had the Springfield reloaded and cocked, right at my elbow.

Hill's gunboy hovered uncertainly some distance in the rear. The sight
of the charging lioness had been too much for him and he had bolted. He
was not actually up a tree; but he stood very near one. He lost the gun
and acquired a swift kick.

Our friends and the men now came up. The dogs made a great row over the
dead lioness. She was measured and skinned to accompaniment of the usual