A Guide to the Beasts of East Africa by Nicholas Drayson Read Free Book Online Page B

leaning very slightly to one
     side. When the hungry lion jumped in, his weight was enough to tilt it a fraction more.
     The door slid closed, the latch clicked shut, and three men and a lion were locked
     inside the carriage. The noise was heard by a certain Mohammed Khan, the very man who
     had sent the telegram in the first place and who was now crouched safely in a water tank
     opposite the siding, observing the whole business.
    His first thought was that this Ryall chap
     was a genius. To improvise so clever a trap, then to bait it with your very own self.
     That took a lot of British skill, and a lot of British pluck. What would the brave sahib
     do now that he had captured the beast – shoot it with his revolver or strangle it with
     his bare hands? Mohammed Khan heard a commotion but no shots. It looked as though the
     sahib was going for the bare-handed option.
    You can imagine his surprise, therefore,
     when the next thing he saw was two trouserless gentlemen leaping from a window on the
     near side of the carriage, followed a minute later by the lion – though the latter was
     exiting backwards and seemed in less of a rush. The reason for the animal’s
     unusual orientation and unhurried pace soon became clear. The lion was dragging behind
     him through the window the lifeless body of Superintendent Ryall.
    Mohammed Khan was a sensitive soul and knew
     immediatelywhat he must do. He must find those trouserless
     gentlemen some clothes quick-smart. Heedless of personal risk, he climbed out of the
     water tank and in loud whispers indicated that if the two men followed him he would see
     what he could arrange.
    It was not until after eleven o’clock
     the next day, when the Maasai search party had found what was left of Ryall’s body
     and killed the lion, that his two friends could be persuaded to retrieve their own
     clothing from the carriage. They returned to Nairobi on the two-forty up train, properly
     dressed in khaki suits, boots, gaiters and sun hats, though still carrying with them the
     new red cloaks that had been lent to them by Mohammed Khan and which he insisted they
     keep as a memento of their adventure. In appreciation of his kindness they, in turn,
     insisted that he keep the skin of the lion.
    It was this Mohammed Khan who three years
     later, and now the owner of a successful grocer’s shop and general emporium in
     Nairobi, banded together with some chums (including, as it so happened, Mr Malik’s
     grandfather) to form the Asadi Club. As you enter the hallway of the club you will still
     be greeted by the lion in question. In deference to local African tradition the dead
     animal is pointing to the north – so that its spirit can find its way to the celestial
     hunting grounds – and the legend has grown up that as long as it stands guard, the club
     will continue to prosper. Mohammed Khan stuffed the lion skin himself and didn’t
     do a bad job – though after more than a hundred years of sentry duty the Kima Killer
     does look a little tired and, despite its lips being drawn back to reveal an impressive
     set of teeth, it appears to be not snarling, but smiling.On his own
     way through the lobby of the Asadi Club later that night, Mr Malik looked around him.
     Perhaps Harry Khan was right. Perhaps the place was looking a little shabby – but
     nothing some new chair covers and a lick of paint wouldn’t fix. He’d have a
     word with the manager, get a few quotes to put to the committee. As for the lion, though
     – no. The lion had to stay.

7
The giant tree falls, and the bush pigs
     eat its fruit
    There was, thought Brian Kukuya, something
     rather nice about being a government minister. He looked around the spacious room that
     served as his new office. High ceilings, wide windows, cool tiled floor. In front of the
     fireplace lay a lion-skin rug (or, to be zoologically precise, lioness-skin rug) of pale
     tawny hue. He’d had the walls painted to match it and was rather