By this time the adroit Hottentot had flayed the carcass sufficiently to reveal the mortal injury.  The projectile had entered the chest, and slanting upwards, had burst among the vitals, reducing them to a gory pulp.  The lion must have died in the air, when he bounded on receiving the fatal shot.

The Hottentot uttered a cry of admiration.  “Not the lion king of all, nor even the white man,” he said; “but Enfeel rifle!”

Staines’s eyes glittered.  “You shall have it, and the horse, for your diamond,” said he eagerly.

The black seemed a little shaken; but did not reply.  He got out of it by going on with his lion; and Staines eyed him, and was bitterly disappointed at not getting the diamond even on these terms.  He began to feel he should never get it:  they were near the high-road; he could not keep the Hottentot to himself much longer.  He felt sick at heart.  He had wild and wicked thoughts; half hoped the lioness would come and kill the Hottentot, and liberate the jewel that possessed his soul.

At last the skin was off, and the Hottentot said, “Me take this to my kraal, and dey all say, ‘Squat a great shooter; kill um lion.’”

Then Staines saw another chance for him, and summoned all his address for a last effort.  “No, Squat,” said he, “that skin belongs to me.  I shot the lion, with the only rifle that can kill a lion like a cat.  Yet you would not give me a diamond—­a paltry stone for it.  No, Squat, if you were to go into your village with that lion’s skin, why the old men would bend their heads to you, and say, ’Great is Squat!  He killed the lion, and wears his skin.’  The young women would all fight which should be the wife of Squat.  Squat would be king of the village.”

Squat’s eyes began to roll.

“And shall I give the skin, and the glory that is my due, to an ill-natured fellow, who refuses me his paltry diamond for a good horse—­look at him—­and for the rifle that kills lions like rabbits—­behold it; and a hundred pounds in good gold and Dutch notes—­see; and for the lion’s skin, and glory, and honor, and a rich wife, and to be king of Africa?  Never!”

The Hottentot’s hands and toes began to work convulsively.  “Good master, Squat ask pardon.  Squat was blind.  Squat will give the diamond, the great diamond of Africa, for the lion’s skin, and the king rifle, and the little horse, and the gold, and Dutch notes every one of them.  Dat make just two hundred pounds.”

“More like four hundred,” cried Staines very loud.  “And how do I know it is a diamond?  These large stones are the most deceitful.  Show it me, this instant,” said he imperiously.

“Iss, master,” said the crushed Hottentot, with the voice of a mouse, and put the stone into his hand with a child-like faith that almost melted Staines; but he saw he must be firm.  “Where did you find it?” he bawled.