Suddenly, a dull roar was heard not twenty paces from them.
"The roar of a lion!" said Joe.
"Good for that!" said the excited hunter; "we'll
fight him. A man feels strong when only a fight's in
question."
"But be careful, Mr. Kennedy; be careful! The lives
of all depend upon the life of one."
But Kennedy no longer heard him; he was pushing
on, his eye blazing; his rifle cocked; fearful to behold in
his daring rashness. There, under a palm-tree, stood an
enormous black-maned lion, crouching for a spring on his
antagonist. Scarcely had he caught a glimpse of the
hunter, when he bounded through the air; but he had not
touched the ground ere a bullet pierced his heart, and he
fell to the earth dead.
"Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted Joe, with wild exultation.
Kennedy rushed toward the well, slid down the dampened
steps, and flung himself at full length by the side of
a fresh spring, in which he plunged his parched lips. Joe
followed suit, and for some minutes nothing was heard but
the sound they made with their mouths, drinking more
like maddened beasts than men.
"Take care, Mr. Kennedy," said Joe at last; "let us
not overdo the thing!" and he panted for breath.
But Kennedy, without a word, drank on.
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