"Follow the great one, O little friend.

The trail is laid; the great one has sought out a moist spot; he lies angry and sore in the shade.

Search and find." The jackal looked intently into the chiefs face, sniffed at the ground, ran forward a few yards, stopped, sniffed again with lifted mane at a spot where the grass was pressed down, threw up his head with eyes half closed, then ran down towards the river, stopping on the bank to look back.
"That is where he joined his mate.

There is the spoor on the sand going and returning.

That is the round pad of the lion; just note and compare it with the pads of the lioness over there.