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Wild Beasts and Their Ways

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hunters and traders, establishing themselves at Sofi on the frontier of Abyssinia. They built a couple of circular huts of neatly squared stones, and not only shot hippopotami in the Atbara river, but manufactured extremely good whips from their skins. These were very superior in finish to the ordinary "courbatch" of the Arabs, and they met with a ready sale. Florian excelled as a carpenter, although a mason by profession; he made exquisite camel saddles for the Arab sheiks; these (moghaloufa) were cut from the heart of a tough wood which never warped (Rhamnus Lotus), and were highly prized by the experienced Arabs of the desert. The rainy season was industriously employed in such useful manufactures, and when the dry months arrived, these two excellent men started upon hunting expeditions, and combined business with pleasure. Although Florian was clever with both head and hands, he was a bad shot; his guns were of a common and dangerous description, one of which burst, and blew his left thumb and forefinger off. After his recovery from this accident he still excelled in work, but he was exceedingly clumsy with his weapons, which were always going off by accident. Upon several occasions these unintentional explosions took place so close to my own head that I suggested it would be safer should he adopt solitary rambles instead of shooting in company. One night he killed an elephant while watching by moonlight at a drinking-place. On the following morning he sent a trustworthy Tokroori native with an axe to cut out the tusks. The man presently returned with the news that a large lion had eaten a portion of the elephant, and was lying asleep close by, beneath a tree. Florian immediately gave his man a single-barrelled rifle, and taking a double smooth-bore himself, the two proceeded together towards the spot. Upon arrival at the place where the body of the elephant was lying, the lion was immediately discovered beneath a leafless bush, where it had been seen by the Tokroori. The animal appeared to be thoroughly gorged with elephant's flesh, and, half asleep in the hot sun, it took very little notice of the two men, but remained crouched upon the bare ground, neither grass nor leaves at that dry season existing to form a cover for retreat. Florian advanced boldly to within about 20 yards, the lion merely regarding him with sleepy astonishment, until he took aim and fired. He missed! The lion instantly assumed an attitude ready for a spring. Florian aimed between the eyes, and again fired. He missed again! The response was immediate: the lion gave a roar, and bounded forward; with a terrific blow upon the head it felled the unfortunate Florian to the ground, and seized him by the neck. Almost at the same moment the faithful Tokroori rushed forward to assist his master, and, afraid to fire lest he should hit him by mistake during the confusion of the struggle, he actually pushed the muzzle of the rifle into the lion's ear and pulled the trigger. The lion fell dead upon the lifeless body of Florian. Dr. Ori, an Italian in the service of the Egyptian Dr. Ori, an Italian in the service of the Egyptian Government, was at that time purchasing wild animals of the Hamran Arab sword-hunters, and was in camp within a half-hour's march. The Tokroori brought the tragic news, and a party started for the fatal spot. Dr. Ori subsequently described to me the effect of the lion's blow. The skull, which had received its full force, was completely shattered, as if it had been a cocoa-nut struck with a hammer, and several of the lion's claws had penetrated through the bone, as though they had been driven like a nail. If that had been the attack of a tiger, the skull would not have been injured, although the scalp would have been badly lacerated, and death would have been occasioned by the grip of the jaws upon the neck, not by the blow. Another instance of the great force of a lion's blow was witnessed by my late friend, Monsieur Lafargue, whom I knew when he was a resident of Berber in the Soudan. This French gentleman was agent to Halim Pasha, the uncle of His Highness Ismail the Ex-Khedive. Halim Pasha was a man of great energy, and he was the first personage in the history of Egypt who sent a steamer from Cairo to ascend the cataracts of the Nile and reach Khartoum. This was accomplished after extreme difficulty in experimenting upon the course of nearly 1600 miles of river, the navigation of which was then unknown to others beyond the native owners of small vessels. Halim Pasha was the first to attempt the commercial development of the White Nile, and Monsieur Lafargue was an admirable representative of his august employer. The steamer arrived safely at Khartoum, and was engaged in the trade of the Blue Nile to Fazocle, and through the White Nile to the unknown, as in those days Khartoum was the southern boundary of Egypt. Monsieur Lafargue was a charming man, highly educated, with a mind of a peculiar character, that enabled him to lead a happy life in the remote wilderness of the Soudan. It was difficult to understand, when conversing with him in his beautiful house at Berber, or sitting together in his garden on the extreme margin of the Nile, while the desert sands upon the east side of the wall showed the limit of civilisation and fertility, how any man of culture could endure to pass his entire existence in such a narrow boundary--the Nile, the fruitful source, upon one side, and the desert 200 yards beyond; sterile, only because the water could not reach its surface. He had his books, all the monthly periodicals from Europe, and his newspapers; he also had his private affairs, his agency, which occupied his time; in addition, he had a wife, an Abyssinian lady of great beauty, and of gentle sympathetic disposition. To her husband she was as the moon is to the traveller upon an otherwise dark night. Her story was too romantic and sad to be lightly introduced, but her husband had given up his country, and his family in France, after having made his fortune in the Soudan, entirely upon her account. He described her to me as the "gazelle of the desert, that was contented and happy in its native sands, but would die in the atmosphere of conventional civilisation." Monsieur Lafargue held a deservedly high position among all classes in

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