rgest one of the eleven killed
in our hunting trip, and was killed with a little .256 Mannlicher, the
same weapon with which she shot her record elephant on Mount Kenia.

In the tall-grass method, native beaters are sent in long skirmish line
through swamps and such places as lions like to lay up in during the
hours of daylight. The beaters chant a weird and rather musical refrain
as they advance and thrash the high reeds with their sticks. Reedbuck,
sometimes a bushbuck, frequently hyenas, and many large owls are driven
out of nearly every good-sized swamp. The hunters divide, one or more on
each side of the swamp and slightly ahead of the line of beaters. As the
lion springs out it is up to the hunter nearest to it to meet it with
the traditional unerring shot.

[Photograph: The Tree Method of Lion Shooting]

[Photograph: Dragged a Zebra to the Boma]

[Photograph: By courtesy of W.D. Boyce. The Rifle Was Sighted on the
Bait]

In our experience we beat dozens of swamps and reed beds. Stephenson
would take one side of the swamp, I the other, while Akeley with his
moving-picture machine, would take the side best suited to photographic
purposes. He got some wonderful results, two of which were records of
the death of two lionesses.

Upon the first of these occasions the beaters had worked down a long
stretch of swamp and had almost reached the end. Suddenly they showed an
agitated interest in something in front of them. They thought it was a
lion until an innocent by-stander made an unauthorized guess that it was
a hyena. This reassured the beaters and they advanced boldly in the
belief that it was a harmless hyena. My valor rose in proportion and for
the same reason, and I strolled bravely over to the edge of the reeds
where a little opening appeared. It was something of a shock to see two
lions stroll suddenly into view. I fired, hitting the last one. Then
they both disappeared in the reeds ahead.

It was amazing to note the sudden epidemic of caution upon the part of
all concerned. The beaters refused to advance until Stephenson joined
them with his big rifle. I moved forward on the side lines and the
moving-picture machine reeled off yards of film.

A man has to appear brave when a camera is turned on him, but with two
lions a few feet away there was not a tendency to advance with that
impetuous dash that one would like to see in a moving picture of
oneself. Anyway, I tried to keep up an appearance of advanci