He was old. For two nights he had not fed,
for no longer was his charge as swift or his spring as mighty as
in the days of his prime when he spread terror among the creatures
of his wild domain. For two nights and days he had gone empty,
and for long time before that he had fed only upon carrion. He
was old; but he was yet a terrible engine of destruction.
At the edge of the forest the Hon. Morison drew rein. He had no
desire to go further. Numa, silent upon his padded feet, crept
into the jungle beyond them. The wind, now, was blowing gently
between him and his intended prey. He had come a long way in search
of man, for even in his youth he had tasted human flesh and while
it was poor stuff by comparison with eland and zebra it was less
difficult to kill. In Numa's estimation man was a slow-witted,
slow-footed creature which commanded no respect unless accompanied
by the acrid odor which spelled to the monarch's sensitive nostrils
the great noise and the blinding flash of an express rifle.
He caught the dangerous scent tonight; but he was ravenous to
madness.
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