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east and shoulder, all the while feeling for his neck, and when he got hold of that dragged him into the shade. The poor man cried, 'Help me, help me, oh God! Men, help me!' then all was still, except that his comrades heard the cracking of his bones. The beast did not heed the beating about the head with the burning wood. The lion dragged the remains of him away the next morning, but in the hollow was found one of poor Hendrick's legs, the shoe still on the foot, with fragments of his coat. The next day came the lion's turn; for the party, by killing him, avenged the death of poor Hendrick."
It has often been said that the human voice has great power over the fiercest animals; and I do not think a stronger proof of it can be met with, than in this adventure of Mr. Gordon Cumming's:--"I fired at the nearest lioness, having only one shot in my rifle. The ball told badly; the lioness at which I had fired wheeled right round, and came on, lashing her tail, showing her teeth, and making that horrid, murderous, deep growl, which an angry lion generally utters. Her comrade hastily retreated. The instant the lioness came on, I stood up to my full height, holding my rifle, and my arms extended high above my head. This checked her in her course, but on looking round, and missing her comrade, and observing Ruyter slowly advancing, she was still more exasperated, and fancying that she was near being surrounded, she made another forward movement, growling terribly. This was a moment of great danger, I felt that my only chance of safety was extreme steadiness, so, standing motionless as a rock, with my eyes firmly fixed upon her, I called in a clear, commanding voice, 'Holloa, old girl! What's the hurry? take it easy! Holloa! holloa!' She once more halted and seemed perplexed, looking round for her comrade. I then thought it prudent to beat a retreat, which I very slowly did, talking to the lioness all the time. She seemed undecided as to her future movements, and was gazing after me, and snuffing the ground, when I la