But I felt sure that as soon as we came near enough, and after sneaking cautiously along for some distance, the one we sought would suddenly break cover and bound off away across the veldt.
Wherever I came to a bare patch of the sandy earth I scanned narrowly in search of "pug," as hunting-men call the traces; but I could not make out a single footprint.

There were those of the baboons by the dozen, and the hoof-tracks of horses, probably those of some of our men when they made a circuit of the rocky hillock.

Every hoof-mark was made by horses going in the direction we were; but still no sign of a lion.
"Keep a sharp lookout," said the Sergeant softly; and I remember thinking his words unnecessary, seeing that every one was keenly on the alert.
"Seems to me a mare's-nest," said the Sergeant to me dryly, as he cocked his eye and pointed down at the footprints.
"No," I said; "the baboons have got something below them on the other side, or they wouldn't keep on like that.

Ah! look out!" "What can you see ?" cried the Sergeant.
"Marks of blood on the ground here.

The lion has caught one of the baboons, I expect, and he's devouring it over yonder under where the rest are dancing about and chattering." "And enough to make them," said the Sergeant between his teeth.