Leon reined in. ‘Be careful. He’s here,’ he said to Kermit. ‘Wait. Manyoro’s getting hot. Let him work it out for us.’ Fagan and his party rode up. ‘You will stay here,’ Leon told them. ‘Don’t come any closer until I give you the signal. You will have a good view of the proceedings from here, but you must keep well out of harm’s way.’ They watched Manyoro test the wind. It was light and warm, but blowing directly from them to the bait. Manyoro shook his head and made another gesture.
‘Right, chummy, the lion’s on the kill,’ Leon told Kermit. ‘We’re going in. Same drill as last time. Steady. Don’t hurry. But whatever you do, don’t stare at the bloody lion this time.’
‘Okay, boss.’ Kermit was grinning with nervous excitement and his hand was trembling as he reached down for the rifle in its boot. Leon hoped that the slow walk-in would give him time to get a grip on himself.
They dismounted.
‘Check your piece. Make sure you have a bullet up the spout.’ Kermit did as he was told and Leon saw with relief that his hands had steadied. He signalled to Manyoro to take up his position behind them and they started the long slow march across the open burned area. Little puffs of fine ash rose from each step they took. They were still two hundred and fifty yards from the carcass when the lion stood up from behind it. He was very big, every bit as big as the old lion. His mane was full but ginger, touched only lightly with sooty black at the tips. He was in beautiful condition, his hide sleek and glossy, with no ugly scars. When he snarled his fangs were shiny white, long and perfect. But he was young, and therefore unpredictable.
‘Don’t look at him!’ Leon warned, in a whisper. ‘Keep walking but, for God’s sake, don’t look at him. We must get closer. Much closer.’ When they were still a hundred and fifty yards from him the lion snarled again and his tail twitched uncertainly. He turned his great maned head and glanced behind him.
Oh, shit! No! Leon lamented silently. He’s lost his nerve. He’s not going to hold his ground. He’s going to break.
The lion looked back at them, and snarled for the third time, but the sound lacked murderous intensity. Then, abruptly, he swung away and bounded across the open ground towards the safety of the Kusaka-saka thicket.
‘He’s getting away!’ Kermit shouted, and ran forward three quick paces, then stopped dead. He lifted the Lee-Enfield.
‘No!’ Leon shouted urgently. ‘Don’t shoot.’ The range was far too long, and the lion was a fast-moving target. Leon ran forward to restrain Kermit, but the Lee-Enfield cracked sharply and the muzzle jumped. The lion’s long lean muscles played beneath the glossy hide like those of an athlete in his prime. Leon saw the bullet strike. At the point of impact the skin jumped and rippled, as though a stone had been tossed into a still, deep pond. It was two hands’ span behind the last rib in the lion’s flank, and low of the central line of the body.
‘Gut shot!’ Leon moaned. ‘Much too far back.’ The lion grunted as he took the bullet and burst into a dead run. In the time it took Leon to get the rifle to his shoulder the beast had almost reached the safety of the Kusaka-saka. It was far beyond the accurate range of the Holland. Nonetheless Leon was forced to fire. The lion was wounded. It was his moral duty to try to finish it, no matter how remote the chances of success. He cut loose with the first barrel, only to see the heavy bullet drop too sharply and throw up dust under the lion’s chest. The report of his second shot blended with the first, but he did not see the strike before the lion disappeared into the bush. He looked back quickly at Manyoro, who touched his left leg.
‘Broken his bloody back leg,’ Leon said angrily. ‘That won’t slow him down much.’ He ejected the spent cartridges and reloaded the Holland.
‘Don’t just stand there with an empty rifle admiring the view,’ he snapped at Kermit. ‘Reload the damned thing.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Kermit said, shamefaced.
‘So am I,’ Leon retorted grimly.
‘He was getting away,’ he tried to explain.
‘Well, now he’s well and truly got away, with your bullet in his belly.’ Leon beckoned Manyoro to join him, and the two squatted, heads close together, talking seriously. After a while Manyoro went back to join Loikot, and the two Masai took snuff together. Leon sat down on the bare earth with the Holland across his lap. Kermit was sitting a little way off, watching Leon’s expression. Leon ignored him.
‘What do we do now?’ Kermit asked at last.
‘We wait.’
‘What for?’
‘For the poor beggar to bleed out, and for his wounds to stiffen up.’
‘And then?’
‘Then Manyoro and I go in there and flush him out.’
‘I’ll go with you.’
‘No, you bloody well won’t. You’ve had enough fun for the day.’
‘You could get hurt.’
‘That’s a distinct possibility.’ Leon chuckled bitterly.
‘Give me another chance, Leon,’ Kermit asked pathetically.
Leon turned his head and looked directly at him for the first time, his eyes hard and cold. ‘Tell me why I should.’
