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Explorer
971 Posts |
 Posted - April 09 2009 : 10:19:22 PM
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Disclaimer:
No claim is made that I own basic rights to “The Lost World”, those residing with the estate of the late Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and such entities as New Line Cinema, The Over the Hill Gang, and other interested parties. Many characters in this Fic are my own. They will be apparent to TLW fans, all of whom should recognize those from the TV show. Most other characters have already appeared in the Fic, “On Safari”, posted on this board. No resemblance to any real person is intended, other than for easily recognized historical figures, who are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any other real person is purely coincidental. Racial relationships are those of the times, for authenticity, and no implication is made that these express the modern views of the writer or of any other party.
THIS FIC IS RATED AS MATURE, for some sexual, supernatural, and violence content, lest anyone feel that something in it passes lesser guidelines. In general, you should be 18 to read this in the USA, although nothing in it is terribly explicit by modern literary standards. Some scenes may be too intense for the very emotional, or for those who dwell in a naïve fantasy world. Some animals will be killed, and graphic human death(s) will occur. Also, be aware that the three couples from the Treehouse, as I have written them in some twenty prior Fics, remain together, now married. These are the Roxtons (John and Marguerite), the Challengers (George and Finn), and the Malones (Ned and Veronica). Not all of these persons were together romantically on the TV show, but my Fics are set past the Third Season. No possible concepts from the cancelled Fourth Season apply. Thus, the “Canon” so revered by fanatical TLW purists can be best regarded as being a brand of American bath towel.  If someone wants to know why George and Finn might get together, refer to the Fic, “Challenger’s Birthday” on the Rachel Blakely board. For those new to my Fics, be aware that Finn cuts George’s hair and trims his beard. So, he looks better than he did in the later seasons of the TV show. Ned Malone and Veronica Layton were on-again, off-again on TV. Here, they are permanently on-again, and very happy for it! Finally, I'm sure that it will surprise no one that M. Krux is now Lady Roxton. (As the wife of an Earl, she is a Countess.)
By the time of this story, the explorers have been off of the Plateau for several years, although the Malones continue to live there. The Roxtons live at Avebury Manor, and the Challengers have an estate in Kent, financed by George’s inventions and Finn’s novels and true adventure tales. She has also become a pioneer wildlife film maker. Both couples keep London townhouses, and frequently visit each other. They and the Malones regard one another as virtual family.
Finally, I do not practice any supernatural or dark arts, and the "enchanted" words spoken during the ceremony with Morrighan are nothing more than a writer's guesses as to what such words might be.
And now, our story! With luck, it will be even longer than this introduction...
A Lion Comes!
By
Explorer
Kenya Colony, British East Africa, 1929
Stuart Hamilton lay just below the crest of a hill, using his Zeiss 8X30 binocular to study a herd of impala some three hundred yards away. He decided that three of the rams were worth shooting, one having exceptional lyre - shaped horns. He turned to his client, lying next to him admidst the rocky clutter of the koppje, as such hills were locally known. “Want to have a go at that one four from the left, at the right of the herd?”, he asked.
Finn Challenger had been watching the herd through her own binocular, the same make and size of her white hunter’s. She had reached the same conclusion. Not only was the ram exceptional; they needed camp meat.
“Sure, “ she agreed, carefullly sliding her .275 Rigby rifle into position. It was loaded with Rigby’s patented bullets, the 140 grain High Velocity version. The rifle was fitted with a Hensoldt four-power telescopic sight, and she felt confident of making a clean kill from where she was. The afternoon was waning, and she had walked a good distance that day before finding this herd, with rams of true trophy quality, suitable for display on the wall of her and her mate’s den in Kent. She also used photos of her hunting trophies in the slide shows and lectures that helped to finance their estate, along with the income from her brilliant husband’s inventions.
Seeking a third opinion, she turned to her right, to Lord John Roxton, the XVIIIth Earl of Avebury. He, too, had his binocular up, as did his spouse, on his own right. “What do you think, Johnny?”, she asked. “Shall I shoot this one, or wait?” (Only Finn Challenger, his virtual little sister, ever referred to the distinguished Earl of Avebury as, "Johnny.")
“It looks good to me, Finnykins,” replied the tall hunter and political represenative for his district in the House of Lords. “You probably won’t see better on this trip. If you do, you have other impala on your license. And we need meat. Why don’t you take that one, and Marguerite and I will each knock over another.” With three couples in camp, plus their native “boys” and two professional white hunters, there was always a need for fresh meat. Three impala would last only a few days, although they planned to gun a waterhole tomorrow for francolin and for sand grouse. The need for protein was enhanced on this safari by the hunters bringing their wives, who were friends of the three client couples from an earlier trip. Finn had been shocked the year before to discover that their black "boys" could each eat 12 pounds of meat a day! Sometimes, it made them sick, especially early in a safari, but they vomited, and started right in again...
“Lets shoot something! I’m tired of lying here in this heat,” grumbled Marguerite Krux Roxton, now Lady Roxton, the Countess of Avebury, for several years. “Finny, whack that one that you like. John, shoot anything but the one next to it, which will be my victim. Pity for it that we need groceries, eh? But I can taste that meat now. If anyone hears thunder, don’t look up for rain. It’ll just be my tummy snarling.”
Roxton chuckled softly, as did Prof. George Challenger, crouching just a bit further below the crest of the hill. He was watching their backs, lest a snake or other intruder disturb them as they studied the herd. Such rocky outcroppings often hid not only reptiles, but scorpions.
“Marguerite, we have some sandwiches left on ice in the chop box,” Hamilton reminded Lady Roxton. “Those should tide us over until the cook can have dinner ready. Look, everyone, I’ll back Finn. If she wounds, I’ll fire. But we need to shoot. That herd is growing edgy.”
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 09 2009 : 11:07:57 PM
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As he spoke, there came a nasty rattle that everyone knew was the voice of a leopard somewhere in the rocks. It had probably come to scan the savannah below, for the same purpose as they had. Now, sensing humans, it had expressed displeasure.
“Shoot!,” breathed Hamilton. “The shots will scare off His Leopardness. If not…George, have your gun ready. I don’t fancy an angry cat getting in among us.”
Challenger nodded and the others raised their rifles to their eyes. They were just in time. The antelope had also heard the cough of the leopard, and were tensed to flee, listening intently. The three shots rang out almost as one, and two antelope went down. Roxton’s target moved just as he shot, and the bullet struck too far back. Hamilton fired as Roxton cycled his rifle’s bolt for another shot, and the wounded impala collapsed.
“Right,” said the white hunter. “Three’s enough for now. We’ll shoot enough birds tomorrow that we won’t need more meat for a few days. Lets reload and get down there, before lions or hyenas try to claim our meat.”
They did as he suggested, filing carefully down off of the koppje. They stayed alert, unsure of where the leopard had gone. And they remained on the lookout for snakes and other threats. Indeed, they saw a serpent slither off and under some rocks to their left as they descended. “Red spitting cobra,” commented Hamilton. “Lets get clear of it before it decides to try for our eyes. George, have your shotgun ready. I don’t half fancy trying to hit it with a single rifle bullet if it comes after us. “
“What a lovely sort of coral color,” observed Challenger, who had seen the snake.
“I don’t care how pretty it is, Genius, you leave it alone!” Finn was concerned that her husband would try to capture it. His scientific curiosity frightened her at times.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 11 2009 : 03:59:59 AM
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“Very well, Darling. I suppose that you know best in this instance,” Challenger sounded disappointed, but he knew full well the wisdom of Finn’s concern. Advances in science always had to be tempered with prudence, and he knew better than to exceed reasonable limits. He recalled a parallel situation on the Plateau when she had given a similar admonition, about a new subspecies of tropical rattlesnake. But she had later offered to help him catch one if he really thought it was worth the risk to them and to their companions. Finn had been sincere in offering her aid, but of course, he had told her that she and the others were too precious. And they were, something that he had come to realize after spending a year or so in that dreadful place. He still loved science, but not as much as he loved Finn and the two other couples in their group.
Now, Finn felt bad about speaking to him as she had. The need had been there, just in case, but the tone…She was embarrassed to have been heard speaking to her husband so abruptly, her motive having been more one of concern than of real anger.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 11 2009 : 04:02:59 AM
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She held in her reaction until they were safely off of the hill, headed for the vehicles that awaited them below. Then she walked over and apologized, citing her fear of snakes, which was very real. She had seen men die of their bites, and they had had two close calls with them on their safari last year. Had Ned Malone not been handy and carrying his 12 gauge Winchester, a black mamba might have ended both of the Challengers’ lives. She shuddered, remembering.
Challenger reached out a big hand and squeezed her shoulder to tell her that it was all right. And that would have ended the matter, except that Marguerite told Diana Hamilton, nee Hardy, who had waited with the car and the gunbearers. But her droll account caused Diana not to laugh at Challenger, but to seek a solution.
“Can’t Veronica paint a red cobra for the professor, if Daddy lets her study the skin of the one on his den wall? Everyone knows how they look when they rear up. It’s just a question of getting the right colors for this species. But you were right to pass on capturing a live specimen, Professor. They lean back and spit, right for your eyes. I’ve seen Africans go blind from it, if someone wasn’t at hand to wash their eyes out straightaway. They’ll bite, too, of course, but they prefer long range work, if they’ve the time for it.”
“Splendid idea, Diana,” enthused Lord Roxton. “Veronica is a very talented artist. I’m sure that she’ll paint the right background, too. Now, we’d best get around and collect our game. I saw a pair of cheetahs in the distance. They may want to swipe our groceries.”
They boarded the two hunting cars, motored around the hill, and found the fallen antelope. The big ram that Finn wanted for her den had dropped instantly to her shot, which Hamilton pointed out had been at rather long range for Kenya. “We don’t often shoot beyond a couple of hundred yards here. It isn’t like the American West or the veldt where Geoff grew up.” Geoffrey Blacklaws, their other hunter, was a South African who had moved to Kenya only after the Great War.
Moses, Finn’s gunbearer, pointed wth pride to the bullet hole in the animal. “Piga m’zuri sana, Mem’Sahib!,” he exclaimed with pride. And it had indeed been a very good shot. It was not for nothing that Finn Challenger was called Mem’Sahib Bunduki among the African staff. Lady Gun. She was the only female safari client whom they had met who insisted on cleaning some of her own guns. And she went over those cleaned by Moses and his peers with an eagle eye. Finn loved fine guns, one of the best days in her life having been when she had replaced her crossbow on the Plateau wih firearms taken from a group of dead slavers. When her husband and Roxton had taken her to place orders with some of the finest gunmakers in Britain, she had felt like the proverbial kid in a candy store. Her near sister Marguerite Roxton sometimes still teased her about it, having wryly designated her man and Finn as The Gun People. On the hunt, she sometimes also called them Orion and Diana. Or, had until their new friend had responded when she’d mentioned the goddess of the hunt. Diana Hardy, now Hamilton, had been amused.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 11 2009 : 04:34:07 AM
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One of the skinners drew his knife and gestured to the animals. “Hallal?”, he asked making throat-cutting motions. Hamilton told him to go ahead and cut the throats of the smaller impala, but to leave Finn’s trophy ram alone. She would need the skin undamaged for a proper mount. The others could provide meat for the safari “boys” who were Muslim, and needed to dine on meat that had been slain with the knife. Often, the ritual was just that, the animals having already succumbed to a bullet. But as long as the motions were complied with, the men overlooked the strict observance of whether the hallal stroke was performed on a dead beast. Meat was the object of the hunt, more than religious observance.
The impala having been field dressed, the group started out for camp, some ten miles distant. Sandwiches were passed around, for Marguerite wasn’t the only one to feel hunger. Lunch had been early, and they had hunted hard, often at some distance from the cars. In fact, it was actually illegal to shoot from a car. Not sporting, old boy. Just not done, you know, not by decent chaps…
Marguerite retrieved two beers from an iced bag on the outside of the truck, and passed one to Roxton. The others shook their heads, content with water. Dinner was likely to begin with a Scotch or a gin and tonic, with white, then, red, wine as the meal was served. “I’m getting an early start on an alcoholic evening,” she quipped.”If I swill enough happy juice, Roxton here will probably get to have his way with me tonight. He enjoys that. Men are so easy to please!” And she jabbed her spouse with a playful elbow, smiling in anticipation of his blush.
Roxton rolled his eyes, and sipped the Castle lager that she passed him. “Don’t anyone get the wrong impression,” he teased. “I don’t have to be drunk to make a pass at Marguerite. In fact, she’s fairly attractive, in the right light.” That produced general laughter, even from his mate, although she stuck out her tongue at him.
Soon, camp was in sight, and they saw that Blacklaws and the Malones were back, with Blacklaws’s wife, the former Holly Deleterre. They were quite proud of a lesser kudu antelope that Ned Malone had knocked over with his sporting rifle, based on the US Springfield .30/06 action. It was a beautiful trophy, and the meat would last them the rest of the week, with the impala that the other hunting crew had collected.
Finn approached Veronica with the idea of painting a red spitting cobra for the Challenger home, and the Brazilian blonde readily consented. One reason why she came on safari was to set up her easel and paint wildlife. It was soothing and creative, and she relished doing it.
Finn beamed, her features seeming to shine from within. “Thanks, Vee! That should keep the Genius happy and out of trouble.” She hugged her pal, winking at her amused husband.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 12 2009 : 12:20:40 AM
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In camp for the night, the couples bathed, in canvas tubs. Marguerite asked her mate to assist her, somewhat ruffling her personal boy’s feelings. Perhaps he saw Roxton intruding on his territory. Or, maybe he had just come to enjoy seeing the Mem’Sahib’s superb body, which she had kept trim and fit. Marguerite had not let marriage become an excuse to let herself go. Even after two children, she had shaped herself largely back into the svelte woman she had been when she had first caught her noble husband’s eye.
She felt sure that practicing yoga had helped keep her youthful appearance. Marguerite looked years younger than her 38 birthdays would imply.
This was not lost on her vanity. She saw in John’s face the adoration that he felt for her, and it warmed her heart. Never had she expected to have the love that she knew with this marvelous man, so patient with her, so kind and solicitous of her needs, emotional and physical. She had even managed to (almost) entirely avoid coaxing him to buy her jewelry to prove his love. Marguerite Krux had known security in wealth, and expected nothing more- or less- from her lovers. Marguerite Roxton had come to realize that there was more to life than material goods, and she had been almost frightened to realize how much she now loved John Roxton and their children.
Not really sure that she wanted offspring, she had come to treasure the next heir to the Roxton family title and his little sister. Still very young, the children had been left with the Challenger children, in custody of the Challenger family butler and their nannies, in a London townhouse. They were too young for this safari, and her thoughts were often with them. But it was nice to have time to herself and John and their dearest friends.
Now, she teased Roxton about his interest in doing more than washing her back. “Don’t drink too much tonight, John. I have plans for you and that libido that is making itself rather obvious. It’s a good thing that I’m the only one who can see that. You’d die of embarrassment, otherwise.” She smirked, nevertheless proud that she could excite him so easily. Reaching from the tub, she ran fingers that seemed to John to be electrically charged along the swollen front of his trousers.
“Don’t fancy that I’m shy about letting people know that it’s me that you take to bed, Lady Roxton. Far from hiding it, I’ll shout from the rooftops that it’s me who won your love.” He pulled her sable hair playfully, turning up her face to place a lingering kiss on her moist, parted lips. One way to keep a woman quiet, he thought, as she responded. And the bath water grew cold as they carressed and whispered sweet somethings into one another's ears.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 12 2009 : 01:28:00 AM
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Veronica Malone had almost decided not to return to Kenya, in view of what had happened to her, Marguerite, and several other white women the previous year. (See the Fic, “On Safari”.) Only Marguerite’s and Finn’s most earnest entreaties had enticed her to come again, and her husband’s passion for the Dark Continent and its adventure. And she did want to paint more of this savage land and its denizens, animal and human. But she would not stay in camp with just a few other women. Now, when Ned and the other men went to hunt, Veronica went, too. She still had nightmares about what she had suffered at the hands of a group of ruthless slavers, in whose terrifying custody she had remained for some time after Marguerite (and Diana Hardy) had escaped.
Now, she lay back in their tub, watching Ned watching her. But she glanced quickly to be sure that her Smith & Wesson .38, the same Military & Police Model with a five-inch barrel that Finn wore, was on a cushion within reach. Neither she or Ned went anywhere without their pistols, and Veronica wore a knife in her boot, as she did at home in Amazonia. At her insistence, armed guards kept watch all night. She felt as secure as she ever would in this wild land, and Ned had coaxed her into enjoying their stay here, among such dear friends, old and new. She had finally come to look forward to each day, instead of hoping that their time on safari would pass quickly.
Veronica would never relax in a canvas camp tub half so much as she did when in the home of her friends the Hamiltons, or at Angus Hardy’s estate, where they had been guests two nights before.
Ned saw her gaze flick to the revolver and he took her face in both hands and kissed her. “It’s okay, Baby,” he said. “That’s behind us. That was last year. This safari is going to be all fun, trust me.”
“Why?”, she teased. “Are you a politician now, Neddy? They’re the only ones who ask people to trust them.” She laughed softly, took hold of his shirt collar, and leaned him over where her mouth could reach his.
When he came up for air, Ned said, “No, I’m still a writer. Published author now, too. But you can trust me. I hope you know that, Veronica.” He liked saying her name. It was more musical to his ears than The London Philharmonic Orchestra playing the best of Bach or Beethoven. On a whim, he said so.
“Oh, Ned,” she murmured. “That is so totally sweet! You almost have me believing it. You’re good, Buster, whether you’re speaking words or typing them! But you don’t have to lay it on so thick, Neddy. Let me give you a clue: for you, tonight, and for all time until the sun burns out, I’m a sure thing. Especially now that I’m enjoying this trip a lot more than I’d expected. It took a week or more, but I think I’m glad that we came. Look, why don’t you join me in here? We have plenty of warm water to rinse with. I checked the reservoir before I undressed; it was full.”
He blushed, for Ned was still somewhat shy. Never the ladies’ man that Roxton represented, or the supremely confident scientist that George Challenger was, he still marvelled that Veronica had agreed to be his. But the joy of their union and his once- repressed lust had eased the Malone modesty. Now, he noticed his heart racing. “Okay,” he agreed, “but lets’ hurry. Marguerite’s relatives are coming to dinner. I heard Geoff tell her and John when we came in tonight. They may be here almost any time.”
Lord and Lady Lindemere, Marguerite’s half-brother and his wife, had agreed the previous autumn to join the Roxtons and the Challengers on safari in the next year. (See the Fic, “Murder in a Stately Mansion”.) True to their promise, they had come, but had hired a different hunter, allowing the former Treehouse couples space to themselves. Moreover, the Lindemeres would stay on for two added weeks. The Malones had only recently met them, not being present when Marguerite had been notified of her true identity and inheritance.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 12 2009 : 02:37:21 AM
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Now, the only remaining Treehouse couple wanted to give a good impression of themselves to the Lindemeres. So, it was to their considerable embarrassment that they turned over the canvas tub!
It happened easily enough, beginning when Ned had entered the tub with his wife, and they had begun exploring one anothers’ bodies. What had opened with slow kissing and his tweaking of Veronica’s stiff, engorged nipples had led to impassioned groping, heavy breathing, and other things, from which we will shield any easily shocked readers.
Time had gotten away from them, and then, without warning, the tub had turned over as Veronica lurched sideways, giggling furiously as she sought to avoid being tickled by Ned.
Water,water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink, unless one counted the canteens that they had left on a camp stool just inside the door. And no one was counting canteens just then…
Those outside heard the noise that the accident created. Blacklaws and his wife, followed by Finn Challenger, ran over as the gush of water rushed out through the canvas floor of the bath tent. Thankfully, the tent was well beyond those in which they slept, and no real harm was done.
“I say, is everything all right in there?”, called the white hunter, as his mate stood with a shocked hand to her desirable mouth.
“Vee! Ned! Are you guys decent? What the hell is going on?” And Mrs. Challenger stuck her head in the door, sliding a flap aside to see if her friends were safe.
She saw the nude Malones struggling free of the confines of the tub, helping one another to stand and take stock of their clothing and gear. Blesssedly, the tub had crashed over on the side of the tent opposite their belongings, and the only thing hurt was their dignity.
“Do you mind, Finny?”, snapped Veronica. “We’ll rinse and be out in a moment. We’re all right.” She waved her hands to urge her best friend to leave her and Ned to themselves. “Finn, wait!”, she added. “Our towels got wet. Can you bring some?”
A grinning Finn agreed. “Don’t you two do anything too physical in there until I get back,” she warned. “You just scared the camp worse than a Gaboon viper under the table would!” Laughing, she went for the towels, taking Challenger, who had rushed over to help. That couple then knocked on the wall of the next bath tent as they passed, startling the Roxtons and urging them to wash and dress. Company was coming!
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 17 2009 : 6:44:41 PM
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Charles Tremayne, Lord Lindemere, and his wife Felicity were soon there, with their white hunter, Alexander Davenport. Davenport knew the other hunters and they had a happy reunion as their clients mixed, greeting one another with pleasure.
Charles was Marguerite Krux Roxton’s half brother, whom she had met the previous year while attending the reading of their late father’s will and distribution of his very considerable assets. Marguerite had inherited 100,000 pounds, a very nice sum, indeed. In those days, it was a fortune. (See, “Murder in a Stately Mansion” on the older of the two David Orth boards.)
Roxton had teased Marguerite about that, asking if she meant to leave him, now that she had money of her own. “No,” she saucily replied. “I still need you to wash my back and bring me breakfast in bed occasionally. You have your uses.”
On a more somber note, Tremayne’s sister and her husband and two other men who had been in cahoots with them in conspiring to kill Marguerite had died. One was shot, and the rest perished in a fiery car crash. Another man, a separate plotter, had been found at the base of a staircase with his neck broken. Two of the other group had been responsible for that, after he had planted a cobra in John and Marguerite’s room.
Now, Marguerite, who had discovered the snake as she left the bath tub, associated snakes with bathing, and especially so here in Africa, where several species of cobras naturally occurred. She made her spouse sit with a gun by the canvas tub as she bathed.
And she wasn’t amused when he joked about that!
The fear of snakes in camp wasn’t unreasonable, for the previous year, Finn had used her .38 to kill a puff adder that had gotten under the breakfast table before being seen.
Lord Lindemere greeted Susan Wilson, Finn’s secretary, with enthusiasm, not entirely because Susan was blonde and very attractive. Indeed, she was so lovely that she had been kidnapped for sale as a slave to one of the most powerful Arab rulers, the (now late) Sultan of Amarrah. Susan had met the Challengers and the Roxtons when they had rescued her and other women, including Veronica Malone. (See, “On Safari”, on this board.)
Susan was very zealous about serving Finn Challenger well, for she heroine-worshipped her. To this end, she had begun developing film, to check that her photos of their adventures were as they should be, while she might be able to take better pictures, if needed. Finn’s books offered considerable photographic sections, and Susan now took many of the images. Lindemere was also an enthusiastic photographer, and he was soon in deep conversation with Susan. Felicity settled in with Marguerite and John, and each couple updated the other on their doings.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 17 2009 : 8:22:01 PM
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The Lindemeres soon heard of the Malone bath tub misfortune, which all in camp other than Ned and Veronica seemed to think was quite funny. Lindemere consoled Ned, saying tbat at least he had been with one of the lovliest women in the universe when it happened. Veronica blushed and thanked him. “I see that you have Ned’s way with words, Your Lordship.” The Brazilian beauty had learned the correct way to address the nobility, helped by Marguerite, who was, after all, married to one of them, an Earl at that!
Veronica, Susan, and Finn wore light blue short- sleeved shirts and tan shorts as brief as custom allowed, on the daring side. Finn had these shorts made by a firm in London, although they were mildly scandalized at the brevity. They were, of course, considerably longer than the black ones that Finn had worn in New Amazonia, in what now seemed a lifetime ago. She wore those now only on rare occasions, at home, when the servants had the night off. Her husband sometimes requested this, being sentimental about her appearance in them and the accompanying cropped top. But something about the way she looked in that outfit soon led to him seeing her in less…
Finn looked at Susan in the tan shorts, recalled her black ones, and blushed scarlet as she caught Challenger’s eye and remembered his fondness for those.
Asked whether she was well, she hastily said that she was just excited over the fine impala ram that she had shot, and led Charles, Felicity, and Alex Davenport back to the skinners’ tent to view it. They were suitably impressed, Davenport congratulating Hamilton on finding such a fine impala for his client.
“I still want a buffalo as big as that one on your wall near the stairs, Charles,” Finn noted.
He said that her chances were good, for he had shot that huge bull barely 15 miles from where they now stood.
“The Genius can study the ticks on it, if I shoot one,” joked Finn, running an affectionate hand down her husband’s arm. I just want the rest!”
Everyone laughed as they returned to the chairs arranged in a circle, and gave their drink orders to the personal boys. The Lindemeres were eager to get to know the Malones, of whom they had heard much from the Roxtons and the Challengers.
By the time that they rearranged their chairs around the long table, Veronica squeezed Ned’s hand and said, “Neddy, thanks for talking me into coming back here. I’m beginning to really enjoy this place!”
She liked it even better as the boys served antelope steaks with potatoes and carrots, with pineapple slices and a selection of fine wines. Charles and Felicity had brought several bottles of Bordeaux’s best as a hostess gift. Marguerite had cheerfully designated herself as hostess and accepted them, to Holly Deleterre Blacklaws’s mild pique. Holly was slightly pretentious, and assumed that she was camp hostess. Her close friend Diana Hamilton noticed, and whispered to her that they had to humor the clients. “That’s where the money is, Honey,” she joked, and Holly smiled again.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 17 2009 : 8:23:49 PM
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Following the excellent repast, the couples sat with glasses in hand as the men told hunting stories and the women discussed fashions, pausing to ooh and aah when their men told an espcially exciting episode. Holly was a little in awe of her husband, a well known hunter who had had some close scrapes with dangerous game. Like Finn Challenger, she half worshipped her mate, who she felt was her main rescuer from the slavers of the previous year. Holly hadn’t even been freed of her chains before she had begun scheming to get Blacklaws to reconsider his bachelorhood…
Diana Hardy Hamilton noticed the way that Holly looked at Geoff and leaned over on her own husband’s shoulder. He put an arm around her, and the couple soon announced that they needed to retire for the night. “Big day tomorrow,” said Hamilton. “We have to prepare a leopard blind before we shoot birds in the afternoon.” And he and Diana strolled off, hand-in-hand.
The others lingered briefly, to hear another hunting tale or two and to assure the expedition that they would indeed see big buffalo and trophy class Greater Kudu soon.
On that note, the white couples adjourned, for dawn and the personal boys coming to their tents with tea would seem all too soon. As they wandered off, Blacklaws called to Roxton, “John, take care tomorrow. This area is known for man-eaters, lions, I mean. “Even Mem’Sahib Bunduki there might find them a little daunting.”
Finn turned and stuck out her tongue at him, to general laughter. But later, as they lay in bed, she confessed to Challenger that she was concerned. “What if we meet a man-eater and I mess up? Those things are dangerous, Genius! And they may come into camp. I put your .450 by your side of the bed. I just hope that we won’t need it. These tents wouldn’t provide much protection if a lion really wanted in.”
He hugged her. “Not to worry, Darling. They’ve probably heard of the famous Mem’Sahib Bunduki, and will give us a wide berth. If not, Marguerite will give any errant lion a piece of her mind. That should frighten any animal!” He seemed to think this was funny, and Finn smiled, herself. But she had trouble drifting off to sleep, even after snuggling into her favorite spoons position in front of her man, which usually soothed her and made her feel secure and content. Finn knew that a charging lion covers a hundred yards in about six seconds, and they often charged from much closer. She shivered and pulled George’s arm around her waist before she slept. And she reached over the side of the camp bed to touch her Holland & Holland .375 Magnum for reassurance. Mem’Sahib Bunduki was a bold huntress and a fine shot. But she was also a woman, and she worried like one.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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971 Posts |
Posted - April 24 2009 : 03:01:07 AM
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Dawn came, with the inevitable soft scratching at the door of the tent, and personal boy Jonas’s cheerful, “Bwana, MemSahib, mimi lette chai.” And the fragrance of the teapot stirred the Challengers.
Finn, nude save for brief black bikini panties, wrapped a blanket around her body. Her husband shrugged into his robe before opening the flap for Jonas to enter and set the tea tray on a camp table.
They sat by the tray, Finn noting Challenger’s robe, which was dark green with maroon stripes edged in gold. She had bought it for him in Harrod’s the month before they had left on the ship for Kenya. It was a thick, luxurious fabric, and she loved snuggling next to him in it. She called it his robe of many colors, after the Biblical one.
“You look very distinguished, Genius. Did you pick out that robe on your own?,” she teased.
He kissed her, pulled her hair, and told her that his wife had chosen it. “She has exquisite taste,” he admitted. “Especially in men.”
Finn giggled. She fondled his arm, liking the texture of the robe and the appearance. She sugared their tea, knowing to laboratory precision how sweet he wanted his. Finn took great pride in trying to be the perfect wife, and was often rewarded by her husband telling her that she was just that. It warmed her heart every time he told her, though. She found it the vocal equivalent of him putting her on that wooden pedestal that he still kept for her in their bedroom. If it had become almost a standing joke between them, she still stirred inside when her powerful man lifted her onto that platform, praising some clever or considerate thing that she had done. Finn felt very fortunate to be where she was, and she often prayed her thanks for that and for her beloved Genius.
They turned as they heard Marguerite Roxton’s voice from the next tent over. “Bloody hell! I don’t want any perishing tea! What I want is three more hours of sleep!”
Finn’s pet name among the African staff was Mem’Sahib Bunduki, for her love of guns. Marguerite’s name was Mem’Sahib Kifaru, for her morning temper resembling that of a rhino!
They heard Veronica, on their other side, call, “Zip it, Marguerite! If I have to get up, you have to get up!”
“Think about that, you blonde wench!,” Marguerite yelled back. “If you sleep another three hours, so can I, and we’ll both be delighted to greet the remains of the day!”
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 24 2009 : 03:23:31 AM
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They heard John Roxton’s and Ned Malone’s quieter voices, probably telling their women to act like ladies, even at this hour, with the sun just brightening the top of the long grass.
The Challengers looked at one another and smiled. Their friends often amused them at such times. Finn leaned over and rubbed noses with her mate. “Never mind them, George,” she laughed. “They really love being here. Not as much as I do, but they love it. They’ll mellow when they get some tea into them. In the meantime, you can be glad that you married me, not Marguerite or Vee.”
Challenger shrugged, a twinkle in his eye. “Nothing new about that, Darling. I am eternally grateful that it was you whom I married. I deserve a woman like you, being the eminent scientist and handsome fellow that I am.”
Soon, all the whites assembled for breakfast. Coffee and the succulent aroma of venison steaks and scrambled eggs brightened even Marguerite's disposition. Asked by Geoff Blacklaws if she felt well, she muttered, “Maybe. I’m still deciding. Have you found any snakes under the table?”
No snakes being present, she acccepted the chair that her patient husband gallantly pulled out for her, and actually smiled as she saw a servant pouring coffee.
“So, what are we doing today? I want to sunbathe. Mem’Sahib Bunduki, Veronica, and the men can shoot whatever animals can’t run fast enough or hide well enough. George can run his traps and study the eyeballs of any new mice that he finds. I say, Holly, Diana? Would you two like to join me in lolling about camp and playing cards while we indulge in girl talk?”
But it developed that the Kenya girls wanted to join their men and see what they did on safari. Finn said that she’d stay with Marguerite, leaving space in the safari cars for the others. “I’ll go out and shoot birds later today,” she offered. “Susan?”
“I’m staying with you ma’am,” replied her secretary. “You may need me to record it with my camera if you beat Lady Roxton at cards.”
“Ha!,” exclaimed Marguerite. “Like that will happen! Your boss is blonde like you, Susan. But I’d love to have you ladies here, if you’ll stay. I really do feel rather lethargic this morning. By lunch, I’ll feel like getting my shotguns and assassinating some of those doves that woke me.”
And so it was agreed that Marguerite, Finn, and Susan Wilson would remain in camp. Challenger waffled a bit over leaving his wife “alone”, but she reminded him that he needed to check the night’s traps. So, it became Ladies’ Day in camp!
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 25 2009 : 6:53:32 PM
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The cars were soon loaded, supplies including such items as guns, water, lunch, and first aid equipment. The gunbearers went in a third vehicle, with additional gear, but the skinners and other camp staff stayed behind. They and other trophy preperation workers would complete what they had begun on the lesser kudu and the impalas of the day before, the meat having already been taken to the tent set aside for that purpose.
Finn and Marguerite kissed their men goodbye, and Susan embraced Holly, with whom she had briefly been a slave girl on their way to be sold.
“Good hunting, Genius. I hope you find some new mice or something in those traps,” said Finn. Challenger ruffled her hair tenderly in reply, and they listened to a pithy exchange between the Roxtons that made some blush. Then, the cars were gone, and the women had the camp to themselves.
“I don’t know about you two, but I want to sunbathe,” declared Marguerite. “We can have the personal boys raise a sort of tent without a top to shield us from their prying eyes, and still have the sun on us.”
This was soon done, although Susan protested that she had not brought a swimsuit, inasmuch as she had been told that African waters were unsafe for swimming. The other women laughed, telling her that they also had no swimsuits.
“But that’s all right,” Marguerite explained, “for Finny and I also have no shame, at least between us girls. Leave your undies on if you’re shy, Susan. But they’ll leave white lines on your body.” She called out for refreshments to be brought, with a table and some lounge chairs for them to stretch out on. The ladies made a point of putting their revolvers close to hand, and Finn brought in her .375 H&H rifle. “All the comforts of home,” Marguerite noted sarcastically.
They were soon playing cards and talking about all the things which women find to talk about. Susan stripped to her bra and panties, but was too shy to remove those. “Don’t your husbands see your tans and know that you took the sun while nude,?” she wondered. “Actually, it seems that I should be the one naked, for no one but us would know. But your men…”
Marguerite laughed and sipped her gin and tonic. “John will see, but if he comments, he will just leer and wink. As long as we stay private, nothing much upsets him. Finn, Veronica, and I have swum nude and sunbathed together for years. Ned used to blush a little when he knew about it, but he’s long over that. Now, I think he just tries to imagine what we must look like while doing it. George has even given up razzing Finny for it. He just tells her how good she looks. But he does that whether she has a tan or not. Stop smirking, Nicole. I saw that!”
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 25 2009 : 7:16:35 PM
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Susan smiled, knowing full well how affectionate the Challengers were. “I hope that someday, I will have a man who adores me as much as the professsor does you, ma’am,” she said, to Finn’s pleasure.
Marguerite snorted. She stretched out on her back, allowing the sun to reach her full length, her trim body bared to its rays and the eyes of her companions. To Susan's fascination and embarrassment, her pubes, like Finn's, was shaven as bare as a pauper's cupboard.
“Susan, Finn also worships George. We used to tease them about it in the Treehouse. She even buttered his bread for him! Those two are a mutual admiration society. They should sell tickets to other married couples to let them watch the Challengers and learn the key to a happy union!”
Susan smiled and said, “But you and the Earl also seem happy, ma’am.”
“True,” conceded Lady Roxton. “We’re a bit ‘snarky’ as Finny terms it, but we love each other. I’d be hard put to find another man so worthy of the name as is John Roxton. But you’ll find a man, Susan. Girls with your looks don’t wither on the vine! Especially not the blondes!” She smiled, and Susan's heart quickened. She felt deeply flattered at such praise from an unexpected, expert source.
Marguerite sat up and laid her cards on the table beside her Smith & Wesson .38. “Aha! Three kings! All right, girls, lets see them. I sense a win here. Finny, are your boobs bigger since I last viewed them? “
Finn nodded. “A little. I had another baby since you last saw the ‘girls’. But there wasn’t as much gain as after the first kid. Arthur’s arrival unwittingly gave his mom a needed boost in that area. Thank goodness, there's no sag yet.” She flushed, pleased that Marguerite had noticed. Finn had once been sensitive about her relatively small bust, although she had more there than usually showed under her black top in Treehouse days. It had taken her some time to see Marguerite nude and realize that their breasts were really quite similar. Marguerite was just skilled at using padded bustiers and camisoles to make the most of her equipment. Poor Finn had not even a good bra to her name in that time.
“Do you really think that I should expose my breasts to the sun?” asked Susan. She was proud of her pair, but still reluctant about stripping, even among women whom she knew well. Especially as one was of the nobility, and the other, a wealthy gentlewoman and her employer… Finn was also her heroine, adding to Susan's shyness.
Finn shrugged. “Sure, go ahead. I saw your boobs when we rescued you, Susan. You have a nice set. You were probably too stressed out to notice, but the boys were pretty taken with your whole body. That’s the only upside to female slavery: you know you look good when they stare while you’re naked, chained so that you’re totally exposed!! Hell, that’s how Holly caught Geoff. He damn sure liked what he saw!”
Marguerite muffled a laugh, sipping again from her drink. Then, all three ladies sat upright, listening. There were raised voices at the edge of camp, excited Africans….
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 26 2009 : 03:12:33 AM
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Finn passed Marguerite her knickers, as the British call panties, and quickly shrugged into her own, the black ones that she had changed into after her shower the previous evening. Both other girls wore lacy white lingerie, which they quickly covered as they fumbled for their clothes.
Susan stood by the tied entrance of the structure, buckling on her gun belt as she strained to hear what was being said. The voices were sometimes raised, sometimes normal. Having lived for several years in Kenya, she spoke fair Swahili.
Marguerite joined her, moving over a stool to sit on as she pulled on her boots. Her lavendar blouse and khaki skirt were already donned, and she wore the brown Akubra slouch hat that she preferred to a sun helmet.
Snatches of conversation drifted back to them on the breeze. They heard, "simba". Lion. And they heard, "manamouki", which meant women.
Finn anxiously tied her veldtschoen, ankle-high safari boots that she wore with tall tan socks. Like Susan, she wore a short-sleeved blue shirt and khaki shorts.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 26 2009 : 05:39:25 AM
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They heard footsteps approach the topless tent. “Mem’Sahib Marguerite?” inquired Joseph, Blacklaws’s black headman, who ran his African staff. Joseph spoke some English, and Marguerite spoke many languages. Soon, the story emerged.
“Mem’Sahib, this man” – he gestured to a warrior standing by him - “says that he has come to speak to Bwana Blacklaws. He says that a lion comes. A very bad lion, which eats people, as other lions eat zebra and antelope. This very bad lion is now eating his senior wife. He asks for help. But I have told him that, of course, there is no help here. The Bwanas have all gone. They will not return for hours. By then, the lion that eats his wife will have finished its meal and gone away. So, I will send him away. He understands now that only white women are here. No Bwanas. I have sorrow if his yellings have disturbed your sunning bath. Mem’Sahibs please go back to sunning and talking. Are you wishing for more drinks?”
Marguerite glanced at her friends to be sure that all had finished dressing. They had, and Finn stood to the side of the door, rifle in hand as she followed the conversation.
Marguerite opened the tent flap and looked at the visitor. He wore an orange cloak of Americani trade cloth and the head ring of an elder of his tribe. Marguerite had seen such rings on the Zulu, but not on any tribes this far north. Still, she knew its purpose, confirmed by his gray hair and the shorter blade on his spear. Younger warriors, elmorani, carried spears with blades longer in proportion to the handle. This was the practice of the Masai, and she suspected, of similar tribes, like the Nandi and the Lumbwa.
“Sit, m'zee, old man, honored among your people, and tell us whence you came. How are your kind called? Joseph, bring this man some water. He looks all in. He must have run for miles.” Marguerite reached into the “tent” and produced the stool on which she had donned her boots, offering it to the visitor.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - April 29 2009 : 8:25:46 PM
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The old man was dumbfounded. He was unused to being treated so well by whites. Indeed, he saw almost none. But he sat, and accepted a gourd of water.
“Mem’Sahib, I come from a people called N’juba. (Fictional.) My village is as far as when the sun moves so.” And he ran a finger across the sky. Marguerite thought this must be about two to three miles in English measurement. The sun would not move much in the time that it took to drive that distance.
“Can you lead us to your village, so that we can shoot this bad lion?”, she asked.
Joseph was alarmed. “No, Mem’Sahib! Mem’Sahibs must not do this! Bwanas will be very angry with wives and with me. Lions are very dangerous. If this one kills you, I will be blamed.”
Marguerite understood his concern, and told him that Finn and she would write notes to their husbands, absolving him of blame. “We are both going, aren’t we, Finny?”
Finn looked somber, but nodded. “Lions scare me, Marguerite. But it’ll be a blast to have done, if we succeed. And I want a good story for my next book. Susan, you stay here, and tell the others where we went, and give George and Johnny our notes.”
“No, ma’am. I mean Finn.” Susan flushed. Finn had often told her to call her by her first name. Usually, she replied, “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Challenger. I’ll try to remember that.” It had become almost a standing joke between Susan and the Challengers.
“I can’t let you and Lady Roxton do this on your own. Joseph can give the men your notes. Anyway, I’ve never shot a lion. Maybe this is my chance. And you’ll need me to photograph what happens.” She looked pleadingly at Finn.
Finn relented and told Susan to get her rifle. She ordered Joseph to pack a quick lunch and see that water bags were in the car. Then, she and Marguerite scrambled to their tents for what essentials they would need. Marguerite also took her gunbearer, a Kikuyu named Jerogi. Susan, of course, took her Leica and several rolls of film.
Joseph accepted the notes from the women with anguish on his ebony face. “May Allah bless you, Mem’Sahibs,” he offered. “Kwaheri.” He raised a hand in what he hoped would not be a final farewell.
Marguerite started the car, loaded in the old man, and they were off. Their guide said that he was named M’fumi, and that he thought the lion had arrived in his village about one and a half hours before. He held tightly onto an upright bar in the car, praying loudly to N’Gai that he would not die during this fast ride in the white womens’ devil machine that flew like the wind. Marguerite drove as fast as she could, where she didn’t have to be cautious of antbear holes and other obstacles that might break an axle.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - May 06 2009 : 10:12:12 AM
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In about half an hour, they saw the N’juba village ahead. M’fumi told the women that his senior wife had been working in a sweet potato field when the lion had taken her. The body was carried beyond the village about 500 yards, where the cat had settled down to its meal. The few people who ventured near were warned off with roars that made it clear that it was determined to eat the woman. This was not a lion that could be fightened from his meal.
Jerogi questioned the old man in his own language, and Marguerite followed the directions that he gleaned. She stopped the car near where M’fumi said that the lion had fed on his woman. The tall grass, interspersed with thornbush, could have concealed a dozen lions. But M’fumi and a man who came running out from the village told the ladies that the body was at the foot of a particular tree that they could recognize from its having been hit by lightning in a storm several months earlier.
As Marguerite talked to the newcomer, Finn vacillated over her choice of rifle. She decided on the Jeffrey .450/.400, a double-barelled beauty that was balanced like a fine shotgun, although it was much heavier. She hung her Zeiss 8X30 binocular around her neck, and put spare ammunition in the loops on her canvas vest.Susan readied herself similarly, although her rifle was a bolt-action .275 from John Rigby & Sons, fitted with a 4X Hensoldt telescopic sight like that on Finn’s lighter rifle, with which she had taken the impala earlier.
Finn saw Susan admiring the fine walnut stock on the .275, and suggested that she take her iron-sighted .303 instead. “If we get into that thick bush and the lion comes fast, you’ll never find him in that ‘scope,” she warned.
Susan blushed and changed rifles. Then,she hung the Leica on her neck and they were ready. Marguerite chose her .375 H&H Magnum. Like Finn’s .375, it had been made to her measure, and swung and pointed well. She could use it instinctively, and had practiced with it in England before their trip began. It was the heaviest-recoiling rifle that she owned, her husband’s .416 and larger calibers making her flinch too easily as she fired.
Roxton had told her that a well placed .375 bullet was better than a .500 Nitro Express that was off target because she jerked the trigger or flinched as she fired. And she knew that the .375 was one of the most popular calibers for lion among both professionals and safari clients.
The girls drank from their canteens, shook hands, and decided that Marguerite would walk on the left, Finn to her right. Susan would follow, watching their rear. Jerogi would follow Susan, with water and a first aid kit. He would carry Susan’s ‘scope-sighted .275, on the off chance that they saw the lion at distance, when the optical sight might be needed.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - May 06 2009 : 10:20:33 PM
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They found a footpath leading toward the tree, and followed it. It narrowed at times to three or four feet, forcing the women and Jerogi to walk single-file. Fortunately, in these places, the bush, including the nasty wait-a-bit thorn, was so dense that a lion would not be lying in wait within.
Finally, the trail opened, and Marguerite and Finn resumed walking beside one another.
The pace was slow, Finn whispering to the less experienced Marguerite that they needed to walk a few steps, then pause and listen. Marguerite was shocked to see Finn also turning her head, sniffing the breeze. She wanted to tell her to quit acting like some female Tarzan, but decided that there might be something to this. She had heard the white hunters mention in camp that lions have a distinct, acrid, odor. She remembered this smell from the zoo, now that she thought of it. She knew that Finn became almost feral on the hunt, something that had impressed her husband, who had seen this often. Until now, Marguerite had thought that John was exaggerating when he told her of Finn’s being so attuned to the wild. Now, she shivered as she conceded that her close friend was
so integral to this environment.
Finn soon stopped, motioning to the lightning-struck tree. Now, even Marguerite smelled lion, but faintly. She also smelled death. Rotting flesh and blood. Heard flies.
They advanced a step at a time, nerves primed to shoot on a second’s notice. Both had switched the safeties on their rifles to “off.”
The remains of the victim lay just to the left of the tree, with no lion in sight. They walked cautiously over, until Finn saw tracks leading away into the bush.
What was left of the woman was a head, the sightless eyes staring open, reflecting the horror that must have been the final thing that she had experienced. Many of the bones had been chewed to the point of splintering. The feet had been chewed off and discarded, although the soles had been licked clean of meat by the lion’s raspy tongue.
Marguerite walked over to the left of the small clearing and retched into the thorn scrub. Finn sat down, holding her head between her knees until she could control herself.
Susan hung back a bit, keeping her rifle ready until her comrades were able to get hold of themselves. They called Jerogi forward and drank, Marguerite rinsing out her mouth before she took enough water to wash the bile from her throat.
Susan recorded the pitiful scene, hardly able to avoid vomiting as she did. Nevertheless, she held still as she worked the shutter, taking a fine focus on the carnage. She wanted readers to know the chances that her boss took and the daring that she showed in living what would become her books. And she wanted the British and American public to know just how grim it was to encounter a maneater, why they spread such terror.
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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Explorer
971 Posts |
Posted - May 07 2009 : 8:47:05 PM
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They scouted for the way the tracks led, but they soon disappeared on stony ground. Finn reminded her friends to be very alert on the way back to the car. They took a different route than they had come, shorter. But the lion might be anywhere, and still hungry.
They were loading their gear and themselves into the hunting car, using wet rags to wipe off their perspiration, when Marguerite saw a man running out from the village, some six hunded yards off. She swung up her bincocular and saw at once why he was probably running to them. A lioness was trying to tear down the door of a hut! No sooner had she seen this than they heard roars and growls.
All piled into the car and Finn drove to within 150 yards. They bailed out, checking rifles. The native confrmed that the lioness was indeed why he was running to them, and they fanned out, three abreast. Finn took the .400 again, thinking that its two quick shots without having to operate a bolt to reload might be vital in close quarters or in case of a charge.
The big cat saw them and advanced, growling and twitching its tail. At the 75 yard mark, Margueite fired, the slam of the .375 into her shoulder socket making her hope that she had hurt the lioness more than the hard-kicking rifle had hurt her. I fully intend to blame Roxton for not being here and doing this instead of me, she mused. Men are so handy when you want to place blame… or, avoid risks!
The bullet zinged just over the cat’s back, triggering a charge. A terrified Marguerite fumbled with the bolt, trying to eject the fired cartridge and chamber a fresh round.
Finn let the animal get to within thirty yards, then broke its right shoulder with a bullet from her .400. The cat tumbled and rolled, then rose with a fearsome roar and lethal intent.
Her second barrel took the lioness in the chest, ranging back through the heart and most of the vital organs behind it. The cat shuddered, then charged straight into Marguerite’s second .375 Magnum bullet, placed about like Finn’s bullet had been. Susan put a 180 grain softnosed .303 into the neck as the lioness passed her, intent on bringing down Marguerite. Susan was surprised to hear the impact of her bullet into flesh, much louder than she’d expected. She reloaded, cycling the bolt as Lord Roxton had shown her, the way that the British Expeditionary Force of 1914 had operated their bolt-action rifles so rapidly that the Germans had thought they had far more machineguns than they had. She had practiced this technique religiously at both Avebury and at the Challenger estate, and had become rather proficient. Her Lee-Enfield sporter had a ten-round military magazine in place, and she was beginning to be glad of its capacity!
Her shot dropped the big cat, although both of her fellow huntresses put additional bullets into it before they were satisfied that it was dead. Susan remembered Roxton telling her to shoot until she was sure. “An extra cartridge doesn’t cost nearly so much as a hospital bill,” he’d warned. "Let alone a funeral."
"There is nothing quite so exhilarating as to be shot at without effect." Sir Winston Churchill |
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A Lion Comes!
