sing down a path came to an open space
that was cleared of reeds. Here they halted, that of the King and my own
side by side with ten paces between them, and those of the court behind.
Meanwhile huntsmen with dogs entered the great brake far away to the
right and left of us, also in front, so that the lions might be driven
backwards and forwards across the open space.

Soon we heard the hounds baying on all sides. Then Bes made a sucking
noise with his great lips and pointed to the edge of the reeds in front
of us some sixty paces away. Looking, I saw a yellow shape creeping
along between their dark stems, and although the shot was far,
forgetting all things save I was a hunter and there was my game, I drew
the arrow to my ear, aimed and loosed, making allowance for its fall and
for the wind.

Oh! that shot was good. It struck the lion in the body and pierced him
through. Out he came, roaring, rolling, and tearing at the ground. But
by now I had another arrow on the string, and although the King lifted
his bow, I loosed first. Again it struck, this time in the throat, and
that lion groaned and died.

The King looked at me angrily, and from the court behind rose a murmur
of wonder mingled with wrath, wonder at my marksmanship, and wrath
because I had dared to shoot before the King.

"The wager looks well for us," muttered Bes, but I bade him be silent,
for more lions were stirring.

Now one leapt across the open space, passing in front of the King and
within thirty paces of us. He shot and missed it, sending his shaft two
spans above its back. Then I shot and drove the arrow through it just
where the head joins the neck, cutting the spine, so that it died at
once.

Again that murmur went up and the King struck the charioteer on the head
with his clenched fist, crying out that he had suffered the horses to
move and should be scourged for causing his hand to shake.

This charioteer, although he was a lord--since in the East men of high
rank waited on the King like slaves and even clipped his nails and
beard--craved pardon humbly, admitting his fault.

"It is a lie," whispered Bes. "The horses never stirred. How could they
with those grooms holding their heads? Nevertheless, Master, the pearls
are as good as round your neck."

"Silence," I answered. "As we have heard, in the East all men speak the
truth; it is only Egyptians who lie. Also in the East men's necks are
encircled with bowstrings as well as pearls, an