"I see the swine! By Gassharamminy! To-night his naked feet'll blister on the floor of hell!" We followed him, enthralled by mixed motives made of desire and a sort of half-genuine respect for the courage of this man, who claimed three countries and disgraced each one at intervals in turn.

We did not go so fast as he.

We were not so enamored of the risks the dark contained.
Suddenly there came out of the blackness just ahead a marrow-curdling cry--agony, rage, and desperation--that surely no human ever uttered--roar, yelp of pain, and battle-cry in one.
"Help!" yelled Coutlass.

"Help! Oh-ah! Ah!" We raced forward then, I leading with my rifle thrust forward.

A second later I fired; and that was the only time in my life I ever touched a lion's face with a rifle muzzle before I pulled the trigger! The brute fell all in a heap, with Coutlass underneath him and the Greek's long knife stuck in his shoulder to the hilt.