THERE HAD BEEN six lions. Now there were five. The old male had been killed that morning by a hunter’s bullet. That left three cubs and two adult females. They had no leader now—no old lion with a great flowing mane to protect them from prowling hyenas or defend their territory from other, roving lions. The pride, the family of lions, was not helpless, but it was much weaker.
That morning the hunters had also killed a Cape buffalo. The buffalo had lived by the river in the shade under the trees. He had been too old to run with the herd, and his legs were bad. The hunters had taken his head with its large horns and left the carcass in the grass for the vultures to feed on. But the pride had watched as the hunters carried all of the big lion
