Before he had been long in Africa he had an adventure which nearly cost him his life.  In the parts where he was teaching, the lions were very troublesome, and would come by night and seize cattle.  Sometimes even they would venture into the gardens and carry off women and children.  So the people got together an expedition to go and hunt the lions, and Livingstone joined them.  After they had been on the track for some time, and several lions had escaped owing to the fright of the natives, Livingstone saw one sitting on a rock about thirty yards off.  He took careful aim and fired both barrels of his gun, wounding it badly.

The people thought it was, dead, and were going towards it, but Livingstone made them keep back and began reloading.  Before he had finished, the lion sprang upon him, caught him by the shoulder, and began shaking and tearing him so badly that he was utterly overcome.  Two persons who tried to help him were bitten by the lion.  But just when it looked as if the missionary’s life had reached its last day, the lion suddenly fell down dead from the effect of the bullets which he had fired into it.

Four years after he had been in Africa he married Mary Moffat, the missionary’s daughter.  She was a true helpmate, and in the trials and difficulties which beset him his way was made clearer and brighter by this good and loving woman.

[Illustration:  LIVINGSTONE ATTACKED BY THE LION]

He could not always take his wife with him, as the districts he explored were so wild and savage.  He ran risks of death by thirst, by hostile tribes and disease, and went through terrible places where no woman could have lived.  But on many a long and perilous journey she went with him.  “When I took her,” writes Livingstone, “on two occasions to Lake Ngami and far beyond, she endured more than some who have written large books of travel.”

One of Livingstone’s first mission stations was Mabotsa, where he stayed a year, and in that short time gained the love of the people.  When he thought it well to move on farther north the natives offered to build him a new house, schools, anything he wished if he would only stay.

But he had made up his mind that it was best to go to fresh districts rather than stay in places where there were already teachers, and therefore proceeded forty miles further on to Chonuane.  Here he met with almost immediate success.  The chief, Sechele by name, became a convert and was able in a few weeks to read the Bible.  Isaiah was his favourite book.  “He was a fine man, that Isaiah,” remarked Sechele; “he knew how to speak.”

This chief would have been willing to help Livingstone to convert his tribe at a great pace, only his method was not to the missionary’s liking.

“Do you think,” said Sechele, “you can make my people believe by talking to them?  I can make them do nothing except by thrashing them, and if you like I shall call my headman, and with our whips of rhinoceros hide we will soon make them all believe together!”