his head, the rich tawny hue, the eyes bright as fire, the graceful, flowing mane, are beauties of nature which are lost when the fierce bold spirit is caged.

But I had little time, had I had inclination, to take a longer survey, for with his flexible yet massive paw he crushed down the remaining barrier of mimosa, then crouching prepared to spring.

As I noted the action, the twisting, quivering movement of the lithe, cat-like body, all the muscles contracted ready for the jump, the cry of terror remained frozen on my lips—I seemed, I felt as stone. The next moment, however, I was aroused by a sharp ejaculation of horror from the missionary. Starting forward he seized the heavy stick I had cut from the bush.

“Merciful Heaven! Look there, Galbraith,” he cried. “Jack Thompson! The terrible brute will have him. For God’s sake, let us save the poor fellow!”

Before the words could be uttered, the beast with a roar had sprung upon his victim. Like a flash of light his heavy body rose through the air, and the next instant its fearful teeth had fastened upon the poor mate’s shoulder.

He awoke with a terrific scream, then as he saw those fearful, relentless eyes glaring down upon him, must from fear and pain have fainted, for he lay like one dead.

In the meanwhile the minister and I were not idle. Though we felt our efforts must be futile, we yet could not see our companion thus carried off without resistance, for the lion had already begun to back out of the cave, dragging its prey after him.

Opening my knife, I bade the minister stand clear, then prepared to spring upon the animal and plunge it in his throat; but, as if conscious of my design, with a low angry growl, it kept its gleaming eyes upon mine and stopping, seemed to await my attack with disdainful contempt, never, however, letting go of poor Jack, who now with returning consciousness began to moan piteously.

“Great Heaven! have mercy on him,” I heard Mr Ferguson exclaim. “You can never help him, Galbraith; lions are not killed with pen-knives, and the beast has already read your intent. It will be your death as well as Thompson’s.”

“I will try something,” I muttered, never taking my eyes from the lion’s; for I had heard how great the power of the human glance was over these animals, and, certainly mine seemed to hold him spellbound. Suddenly, a thought struck me; I remembered the thick bushes that hung over the top of the cave, and hurriedly said to the minister—

“Our only chance, if we have any, is to make a general attack. Will you, by the help of the bushes, climb to the top of the cave—I feel he will not move yet—while I keep my eyes on his. Then at a given signal you drop on him with that pointed stick of hard acacia, while I will spring at his throat with my knife. We may at least startle him into making a retreat—only for the love of Heaven be quick! or Thompson will recover, and, by his struggles, change the animal’s position.”

In a moment, though the act was so perilous, and indeed, was likely to end in three lives being sacrificed instead of one, the young minister was climbing the bushes.

Anxiously I waited, still keeping my eyes on the lion which, at the sound of the rustling branches, began to beat his tail ominously.

By sense of hearing I tried to divine how Mr Ferguson was progressing, and was congratulating myself by the certainty that he must be near the top, when, suddenly letting go Thompson, with a warning roar, I in horror perceived that the lion intended to make me his victim instead of the mate.

My fate, I felt was sealed. Thoughts of home, of Katie, of my little ones, rushed with the speed of light to my brain, while my heart grew sick.

A prayer escaped my lips, as I saw the wide, blood-red jaws expand to seize me, and the body rise with a noiseless spring. Tottering back, in imagination I already felt the hot breath of the animal on my face—his teeth in my flesh, when a crashing noise abruptly rung in my ears, followed by a cry of fear, and a howl of agony from the lion. Then a cloud of blinding dust enveloped me, and I fell back stunned against the wall of the cave.

It was some seconds before I could clear my eyes sufficiently to look for the cause of the noise, the dust, and of my yet being untouched by the lion, whose moans I could still hear.

On looking up, I saw to my surprise that the moonlight now streamed in at the top of the cave instead of the front which was blockaded by a great mass of rock, partly covered by which was the lion, writhing in agony, and utterly powerless—his hind quarters being crushed beneath the weight.

How the rock had come there, and what was the fate of my companions were mysteries, and I was striving to get my confused senses together to make a search when the head, and then the body of Mr Ferguson appeared, climbing over the fallen rock.

“Galbraith, in mercy speak if you be yet alive!” he cried in accents of terror.

“I am all right, Sir,” I answered, “but for Heaven’s sake tell me how all this happened.”

“I scarcely know—I was climbing the rock when, as I neared the top, I fancied the bush was giving way. I should have fallen just in front of the lion’s jaws, and before I could reflect on the matter, the instinct of self-preservation innate in us all, made me spring out among the bushes beneath. No sooner had I done so, than I heard a terrific noise accompanied by a fall, and, turning, perceived there had been a landslip, the mouth of the cave being barricaded by this rock.”

“And it has saved our lives,” I ejaculated. “The hand of Providence is in it, Sir. We were helpless, and it has saved us by a miracle, for the lion is half-crushed and will be dead shortly, while I can hear Thompson, moaning, not as if in any greater pain than the lion’s teeth must have occasioned. Come in, Sir, and aid me to look.”

Mr Ferguson instantly sprang down, when I with my clasp-knife soon despatched the now powerless and fainting lion; then we groped about for Jack. We quickly discovered him, and found it was the second narrow escape from death that he had had in the last hour, for the rock was scarcely an inch from his head. Drawing him away we bound up his shoulder as well as we could with our handkerchiefs. When this was done and he had recovered consciousness I said—

“I have been thinking, Mr Ferguson, that the unpleasant visit we have had to-night may be repeated. So what do you say to trying to get down to the edge of the sea? The wild animals will hardly come there.”

“You are right, Galbraith; but I doubt if poor Thompson could manage it.”

“Yes, Sir, I think I can,” he answered. “I’m precious weak and faint, sartinly; that beggar’s teeth were rather large skewers and nearly did for me, so I would sooner try to walk to where we shall be safe than risk such another rough style of trussing.”

This being agreed upon, Mr Ferguson and I lent our aid to get Jack over the rock, from whence we began to make our way to the shore. Once the poor fellow fainted, and I thought we should have to stop where we were, but he managed to proceed after a while, and on reaching the sea was much refreshed by having his wounds bathed in the water. After which, as neither of us felt inclined to sleep, we sat down to wait for dawn, though what fresh perils it might bring us was a question we did not care to contemplate.

We had been lying on the beach for, I