“The pain of my wound kept me from fainting, and as soon as I got my breath I managed to drag myself from under him.  Thank heavens, his great teeth had not crushed my thigh-bone; but I was losing a great deal of blood, and had it not been for the timely arrival of Tom, with whose aid I loosed the handkerchief from my wrist and tied it round my leg, twisting it tight with a stick, I think that I should have bled to death.

“Well, it was a just reward for my folly in trying to tackle a family of lions single-handed.  The odds were too long.  I have been lame ever since, and shall be to my dying day; in the month of March the wound always troubles me a great deal, and every three years it breaks out raw.

“I need scarcely add that I never traded the lot of ivory at Sikukuni’s.  Another man got it—­a German—­and made five hundred pounds out of it after paying expenses.  I spent the month on the broad of my back, and was a cripple for six months after that.  And now I’ve told you the yarn, so I will have a drop of Hollands and go to bed.  Good-night to you all, good-night!”