To wound the lion would be the
worst thing I could do, and I knew that only a shot through the brain
would kill him in his tracks.
"Hold him, Don, hold him!" I yelled, and I took a backward step. The
lion put forward one big paw, his eyes now all purple blaze. I backed
again and he came forward. Don gave ground slowly. Once the lion
flashed a yellow paw at him. It was frightful to see the wide-spread
claws.
In the consternation of the moment I allowed the lion to back me
across the front of the wind cave, where I saw, the moment it was too
late, I should have taken advantage of more space to shoot him.
Fright succeeded consternation, and I began to tremble. The lion was
master of the situation. What would happen when I came to the narrow
point on the shelf where it would be impossible for me to back around?
I almost fainted. The thought of heroic Don saved me, and the weak
moment passed.
"By God, Don, you've got the nerve, and I must have it too!"
I stopped in my tracks. The lion, appearing huge now, took slow
catlike steps toward me, backing Don almost against my knees. He was
so close I smelt him. His wonderful eyes, clear blue fire circled by
yellow flame, fascinated me. Hugging the wall with my body I brought
the revolver up, short armed, and with clinched teeth, and nerve
strained to the breaking point, I aimed between the eyes and pulled
the trigger.
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