He reeled, sprang round, and staggered a few paces, when Jackson, who was firing a Martini-Henry, let him have one in the shoulder; this knocked him over sideways, and he turned about, growling savagely.

I could scarcely believe that we had actually got a lion at last, but resolved to make sure of it; so, telling Jackson not to fire unless it was necessary (for fear of spoiling the skin with the larger bullet of the Martini), I got down closer to the beast, and fired a shot at the back of his neck as he turned his head away from me.

This went through his spine, and came out through the lower jaw, killing him dead." It was during the Matabele campaign that Baden-Powell came across a fine wild boar, which, he remarks, caused quite a flutter in his breast.

"'If I only had you in the open, my friend,' thought I.'If only you had a horse that was fit enough to come anywhere near me,' grinned he.

And so we parted." A graphic incident.
It is in hunting the wild boar that Baden-Powell has a universal reputation as a sportsman.