His presence in the middle of that swamp was about as logical as if he had been a musk-ox or a walrus.

However, there he was, gazing up at us from the bulrushes, with mild, friendly eyes and a little tail that was poised for wagging at the slightest provocation.

He was instantly christened "Moses" for obvious reasons.

Later the name was changed to Mosina, also for obvious reasons.
After the line of porters had regained their composure the lion beat continued, but no lion appeared.

The sum total of the wild beasts yielded by that promising swamp was one (1) little black and tan dog with white feet.
[Drawing: _It Was Not a Lion_] Some of our genealogical experts addressed themselves to the task of figuring out the why and wherefore of little Mosina and what in the world she was doing out in a lion and leopard infested place.