I suppose, have burst and left a portion of its fabric sticking to the barrel.  At any rate, when I tried to get in the new case it would only enter half-way; and—­would you believe it?—­this was the moment that the lioness, attracted no doubt by the outcry of her cub, chose to put in an appearance.  There she stood, twenty paces or so from me, lashing her tail and looking just as wicked as it is possible to conceive.  Slowly I stepped backward, trying to push in the new case, and as I did so she moved on in little runs, dropping down after each run.  The danger was imminent, and the case would not go in.  At the moment I oddly enough thought of the cartridge-maker, whose name I will not mention, and earnestly hoped that if the lion got me some condign punishment would overtake him.  It would not go in, so I tried to pull it out.  It would not come out either, and my gun was useless if I could not shut it to use the other barrel.  I might as well have had no gun.  Meanwhile I was walking backward, keeping my eye on the lioness, who was creeping forward on her belly without a sound, but lashing her tail and keeping her eye on me; and in it I saw that she was coming in a few seconds more.  I dashed my wrist and the palm of my hand against the brass rim of the cartridge till the blood poured from them—­look, there are the scars of it to this day!”

Here Quatermain held up his right hand to the light and showed us four or five white cicatrices just where the wrist is set into the hand.

“But it was not of the slightest use,” he went on; “the cartridge would not move.  I only hope that no other man will ever be put in such an awful position.  The lioness gathered herself together, and I gave myself up for lost, when suddenly Tom shouted out from somewhere in my rear: 

“‘You are walking on to the wounded cub; turn to the right.’

“I had the sense, dazed as I was, to take the hint, and slewing round at right angles, but still keeping my eyes on the lioness, I continued my backward walk.

“To my intense relief, with a low growl she straightened herself, turned, and bounded off farther up the kloof.

“‘Come on, inkoos,’ said Tom, ‘let’s get back to the waggon.’

“‘All right, Tom,’ I answered.  ’I will when I have killed those three other lions,’ for by this time I was bent on shooting them as I never remember being bent on anything before or since.  ’You can go if you like, or you can get up a tree.’

“He considered the position a little, and then he very wisely got up a tree.  I wish that I had done the same.

“Meanwhile I had found my knife, which had an extractor in it, and succeeded after some difficulty in hauling out the case which had so nearly been the cause of my death, and removing the obstruction in the barrel.  It was very little thicker than a postage-stamp; certainly not thicker than a piece of writing-paper.  This done, I loaded the gun, bound a handkerchief round my wrist and hand to staunch the flowing of the blood, and started on again.