Those were never-to-be-forgotten evenings, spent on that
lonely veldt all bathed in silver light. We also had excitements--much
lions' spoor on the roads by day, many scares of lions round the camps
by night, when the danger is that the horses may be taken while the camp
is asleep. Every evening our animals were put into a "skerm," or high
palisade, constructed of branches by the ubiquitous carriers with
marvellous rapidity.
One dark night before the moon had risen, just as we had finished dinner
and were sitting round the fire listening to thrilling stories of sport
and adventure, a terrific noise suddenly disturbed our peaceful
circle--a noise which proceeded from a dark mass of thick bush not 200
yards away, and recalled one's childish recollections of "feeding-time"
at the Zoo. Not one, but five or six lions, might have been thus near to
us from the volume of growls and snarls, varied by short deep grunts,
which broke the intense stillness of the night in this weird fashion.
Each man rushed for his rifle, but it was too dark to shoot, and
gradually the noise died away. The natives opined it was a slight
difference of opinion between some wolves and a lion, which animals,
curiously enough, very often hunt in company, the lion doing the
killing, and the wolf prowling along behind and picking up the scraps.
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