Then followed cries of "They've taken
him; they've taken him," as the brutes carried off
their unfortunate victim and began their horrible
feast close beside the camp. The Inspector,
Mr. Dalgairns, fired over fifty shots in the
direction in which he heard the lions, but they
were not to be frightened and calmly lay there
until their meal was finished. After examining
the spot in the morning, we at once set out to
follow the brutes, Mr. Dalgairns feeling confident
that he had wounded one of them, as there was
a trail on the sand like that of the toes of a
broken limb. After some careful stalking, we
suddenly found ourselves in the vicinity of the
lions, and were greeted with ominous growlings.
Cautiously advancing and pushing the bushes
aside, we saw in the gloom what we at first took
to be a lion cub; closer inspection, however,
showed it to be the remains of the unfortunate
coolie, which the man-eaters had evidently
abandoned at our approach. The legs, one arm
and half the body had been eaten, and it was the
stiff fingers of the other arm trailing along the
sand which had left the marks we had taken to
be the trail of a wounded lion.
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