ery scratch poor Kasuju's
hide was torn dreadfully, but he kept his horn in the wound, and pushed
home, and made the wound large. Then the lion sprang free, and the
blood spurted all over Kasuju. Blinded with his torn and hanging scalp,
and weakened with his wounds, he staggered about, pounding blindly at
his enemy, until the lion gave him one mighty stroke with its paw, and
sent him headlong, and then seized him by the neck and shook him, and we
heard the cruel crunch as the fangs met. But it was the last effort of
the lion, for just as Kasuju was lifeless, the lion rolled over him,
dead also. Had my friend told me this story, I should not have believed
him, but as I saw it with my own eyes, I am bound to believe it. We
buried Kasuju honourably in a grave, as we would bury a brave man; but
the lion we skinned, and I have got his fur with the ragged hole in the
throat.

The singular fight we had witnessed, furnished us all with much matter
for talk about lions, and it brought into the mind of one of them a
story of a crocodile and lion fight which had happened some time before
in the night. Lake Mtukura swarms with crocodiles, and situated as it
is in a region of game they must be fat with prey. One night a
full-grown lion with a fine mane came to cool his dry throat in the
lake, and was quaffing water, when he felt his nose seized by something
that rose up from below.

From the traces of the struggle by the water's edge, it must have been a
terrible one. The crocodile's long claws had left deep marks, showing
how he must have been lifted out of the water, and flung forcibly down;
but in the morning both lion and crocodile were found dead, the
crocodile's throat wide open with a broad gash, but his teeth still
fastened in the lion's nose.

Saruti had not half finished his stories when he felt, by seeing Mtesa
yawn, that though his adventures were very interesting, and he was quite
ready to continue, yet it would be to his advantage to dock his tongue
for the time being. So he said, "Kabaka, the wise old man whom I met,
told me one thing I had nearly forgotten to say. He said, `I know you
are a servant of the king, and if ever you want the king's face to
soften to you and his hand to open with gifts, compare yourself to the
lid of a cooking-pot, which, though the pot may be full of fragrant
stew, receives naught but the vapour, and the king who is wise will
understand and will be pleased with his servant.'"