d to make for fresh
cover in the ravine, but, finding Grosvenor blocking the way, came to a
sudden halt, upon which the dogs instantly gathered round them, yapping
and snarling furiously, while individual members made sudden feints of
dashing in, only to retreat precipitately with their tails between their
legs as the infuriated beasts turned this way and that to meet the rush.

The crowding, clamouring dogs, with their quick rushes, and the
incessant twists and turns of the regal pair to meet those rushes, were
anything but conducive to good shooting, and Grosvenor, with rifle to
shoulder, held his fire, watching for a favourable opportunity.
Suddenly it came: a dog more venturesome than the rest sprang at the
lion, and was caught by him. Planting both his front paws on the body
of the unhappy cur, the lion stood for a moment glaring at his foes, and
in that moment Grosvenor pulled trigger, the bullet striking the great
beast full in his massive chest. For perhaps a quarter of a minute the
lion stood absolutely motionless, his eyes blazing defiance; then he
suddenly collapsed, and, with a half-whine, half-roar, slowly rolled
over on his side, his great head sank to earth, his limbs stretched
themselves stiffly out, and with a violent shudder he yielded up his
life.

Grosvenor chose this moment to inject a fresh cartridge into the chamber
of his rifle. But something went wrong with the weapon, and while he
was still fidgeting with it, forgetful of the fact that Jantje was
standing behind him with a second rifle, fully charged, in his hand, the
lioness, with a mighty, snarling roar that sent the dogs scuttling in
all directions, crouched with the evident intention of springing upon
the slayer of her lord. For a moment Dick, who was interestedly
watching the scene, took no action, for, according to the arrangement
come to between them, the lioness belonged of right to Grosvenor. Then,
realising that his friend was in peril, he shouted excitedly:

"Shoot, Phil, shoot, or the brute will be upon you!" at the same time
lifting his own weapon to his shoulder.

"Can't," returned Grosvenor, still struggling with his rifle; "the
beastly thing's--"

Crack! Dick instantly pressed the trigger; and as he did so the lioness
rose into the air with a curious writhing movement, falling short of the
spot where Grosvenor stood by about a foot. As she fell she rolled
headlong, but instantly recovered herself, standing upon three