“You see,” said the hunter to the two boys, “the pair crouched here; these circular marks in the sand were made by the swing of the tails.  They sighted game.  One of them—­the lioness, no doubt—­worked round to drive the game towards the lion.”

“It is a guess,” said Compton.  “Perhaps the lion stopped because of his hurt.”

“No; the bleeding has stopped.  They not only sighted game, but the lioness drove it from the river-bed towards the lion, and the lion brought it down.”

“Oh, come,” said Compton.  “How can you tell that?”

“From the spoor”—­laconically.  “He sprang twice—­here, where he alighted the first time; and the second spring landed him on to the neck of an antelope powerful enough to struggle on into that thicket of reeds.  There the two of them pulled it down.”

“And there he is!” shouted Venning.

He pointed to the right of the reeds, and there was a great yellowish beast walking away at a slow walk, with its head sunk.

“The lioness,” said the hunter.  “Venning, keep by me, but a little behind.  Compton, when I whistle, fire into the reeds.”

Compton nodded his head, and the two went off, while Muata sat down as a spectator.

Mr. Hume walked steadily up to within fifty paces of the reeds on the upper side, then whistled.  Immediately Compton fired.

The lion was there.  He signified his presence by a low growl, but he did not move.  Compton fired again, and this time the reeds shook, and a great shaggy head appeared, with its yellow eyes fixed on the boy.  Mr. Hume made a slight noise, and the great head turned at once in his direction.  For a moment the lion exchanged glances, then with a growl he turned into the reeds to reappear further on, going slowly in the direction of the lioness.

“It is your shot, Godfrey; take him just behind the shoulder.”

Venning’s heart was thumping against his ribs; but he steadied himself for the shot, and fired.  The lion sprang forward, snarling, and faced about towards his enemies.  Then up went his tail, and with a savage growl he charged straight down to within about thirty feet, when he stood for a moment, as is the way of the charging lion if his enemy stands fast.  The pause was enough; and before the huge muscles of the flanks and backs could be set in motion to hurl the great body forward, a bullet, crashing into his breast, laid him out helpless in the throes of death.

“Your first lion, Godfrey.”

“But you killed him,” said Venning, pulling himself together with a great effort; for he had been through a very severe ordeal.

“The first hit counts.  See here, your bullet last night struck him above the elbow, just missing the bone, and your second shot hit him low down in the ribs.”

“My word,” said Compton, as he came up, his eyes blazing with excitement, “it was grand to see that charge.  Yes, and to see how you two stood.  My heart was in my mouth.”