A Lion in the Limelight
MY sham& boy, Daki, was the first to bring the news. It was his custom on his way to my house every morning to collect a large petrol tin of water. On this particular occasion he had left the lake shore and was crossing the bunker guarding the second green, when his eye was arrested by the footprint in the sand of a full grown lion.
To find any trace of such a beast in Entebbe was quite unusual. So far as records go, it had never happened within the memory of even the oldest official.
Branching off to avoid the small bazaar, the tracks passed close to the Land Office, through the Chief Secretary's garden and across the golf links and finally arrived at the point of the peninsula close to the grazing ground of a herd of cattle belonging to the Veterinary Department. At this spot, one of the prettiest on the lake shore, the lion had decided to remain for the next three days. Here the ground is thick with tall grass and bracken, undergrowth and stunted bushes, while reeds and ambatch fringe the sandy shore. In the matter of cover, then, the lion had chosen wisely ; in food, well. Each night he successfully removed and enjoyed a cow from the Veterinary herd. The fourth night proved his undoing.
Not that the residents of Entebbe had been idle, once they became aware of his presence. A company of King's African Rifle a stationed on the peninsula had hunted him in skirmishing order : individual sportsmen had sat up for him : poison had been placed inside one of his earlier kills. Finally, after three nights had passed without success, four stalwarts set out to make no mistake. Of this little band, three had rifles and one a high-powered electric lamp. Of their modus operandi I can only speak from hearsay. The kill of the previous night had been found unfinished, for no lion could expect to have so many consecutive meals undisturbed. The carcass, or what was left of it, was placed close to where the lion had already been seen. • Ten yards, or thereabouts, from this spot stood a small disused hut, into which the party entered. The electric light expert mounted his lamp, connected up his wires and made everything ready. The remaining three sat round inside the hut, their rifles on their knees. Theoretically the odds against the lion were so heavy that no sensible bookmaker would have attended the meeting. Inside the but the feeling of security cannot have been so strong. Supposing, for instance, the lion had decided to substitute a man for his supper instead of his customary beef ? It would be small consolation to the victim to know that his life had been suitably avenged. A sudden spring might upset the limelight arrangements and leave the gun team floundering in the dark. Thoughts such as these must have passed through the minds of the night watchmen as they sat staring into the darkness, the riflemen with fingers on their triggers, the foreman with his hand on the switch.
At ten o'clock, or thereabouts, the lion was heard to approach, sniffing expectantly. Had the moment come ? Not yet—for suspicion drove him away, and for a space silence reigned. Again he approached, and again he retired. At last, gaining confidence, he returned once more, this time to stay, for he sat him down as he had been expected to do, and began his meal. Up went the lights. Startled by the sudden glare, he turned his head. The three rifles spoke simultaneously, and . . . the lion was no'thore.
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