It was a leopard--a tiger as they call it in Africa--which, crouched
upon a bough of the tree above, had been unable to resist the temptation
of satisfying its savage appetite on the man below. For a second or two
there was silence, broken only by the purring, or rather the snoring
sound made by the leopard. In those seconds, strangely enough, there
sprang up before Hadden's mental vision a picture of the _inyanga_
called _Inyosi_ or the Bee, her death-like head resting against the
thatch of the hut, and her death-like lips muttering "think of my word
when the great cat purrs above your face."
Then the brute put out its strength. The claws of one paw it drove deep
into the muscles of his left thigh, while with another it scratched at
his breast, tearing the clothes from it and furrowing the flesh beneath.
The sight of the white skin seemed to madden it, and in its fierce
desire for blood it drooped its square muzzle and buried its fangs in
its victim's shoulder. Next moment there was a sound of running feet and
of a club falling heavily.
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