My rifle was in the waggon, and my first thought was to get
hold of it, and I turned and made a bolt for it. I got my foot on the
wheel and flung my body forward on to the waggon, and there I stopped as
if I were frozen, and no wonder, for as I was about to spring up I heard
the lion behind me, and next second I felt the brute, ay, as plainly as
I can feel this table. I felt him, I say, sniffing at my left leg that
was hanging down.
"My word! I did feel queer; I don't think that I ever felt so queer
before. I dared not move for the life of me, and the odd thing was that
I seemed to lose power over my leg, which developed an insane sort
of inclination to kick out of its own mere motion--just as hysterical
people want to laugh when they ought to be particularly solemn. Well,
the lion sniffed and sniffed, beginning at my ankle and slowly nosing
away up to my thigh. I thought that he was going to get hold then, but
he did not. He only growled softly, and went back to the ox. Shifting my
head a little I got a full view of him. He was about the biggest lion
I ever saw,--and I have seen a great many, and he had a most tremendous
black mane.
Pages:
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46