Free Echoes From a Distant Land by Frank Coates

harbouring an intense resentment since his authority and standing with Hungerford were undermined by Sam and Ketterman. Ira had suggested that Sam keep to himself until Ali cooled off.
    It was a further hour, an hour in which the sun climbed vertically above them, before word came that the lions were close by, resting in shade. Under normal circumstances Hungerford would have given the men a respite to regain their strength, but he pressed onwards with one of the trackers leading the way.
    A little later, the white hunter went ahead to assess the situation.
    Ira flopped to the ground in the miserly shade of a scrawny bush. Sam handed him the water bottle. He took it, barely able to mutter his thanks.
    â€˜The light is good,’ Sam said by way of encouragement.
    Ira squinted into the searing sky. ‘It is,’ he croaked. ‘Let’s hope that Mr Hungerford is able to find the promised lions. I don’t think I can go much further.’
    Hungerford returned and issued orders to his gun bearers and beaters. Then he squatted beside Ira.
    â€˜There’s a pride lying up in a donga over that hill,’ he said. ‘We think there are about nine of them. My men are going to circle to the rear of them and, on my signal, will drive the lions out of the creek bed, to where you will have your cameras.’ He looked at Ira closely. ‘Are you feeling up to this?’
    Ira nodded, and struggled to his feet. ‘I am,’ he said. ‘And I have Sam here to help me with the camera reloads.’
    â€˜Good; then let’s get into position.’
    Hungerford and Ali led the way until they reached a small clearing in the patchy scrub.
    â€˜We can drive the lions through that gap in the bush and onto the flat ground here. Will that do?’
    Ira checked the panning angles and agreed.
    Sam set down the heavy tripod and mounted the camera on it while Ira chose his film canisters.
    When he’d made a few trial shoots, Ira told Hungerford he was ready.
    Hungerford gave a long clear whistle and a moment later, the sound of beating drums and clattering metal came from the other side of the dry creek bed.
    Ira started to roll the film and Sam stood behind him with the spare canister.
    Suddenly there was a loud report and the beating stopped. In the silence Hungerford swore.
    â€˜ Christ! What’s happened?’ he muttered.
    They listened. A few excited voices came from the other side of the creek bed.
    â€˜I’d better have a look. Ali, take this,’ Hungerford said, handing Ali the 577. Turning to Ira, he said, ‘That was a 12-bore. One of the lions might have doubled back. Stay here while I see what’s happened.’
    Hungerford started towards the donga, then turned back to add, ‘Mr Ketterman. Whatever you do, stay here with Ali.’
    As Hungerford disappeared into the scrub, the distant voices faded. The three men waited in silence. Ira continued to crank the camera as if the action might relieve the tension.
    There was a crashing sound in the thicket filling the creek bed and a lioness bolted into view. She was clearly nervous, casting backward glances into the bush. When she noticed her path was blocked by Ira and his camera crew, she paused for an instant before charging across the clearing, directly at them.
    Sam took an involuntary step backwards but Ira remained behind the camera as the lioness swiftly covered the ground between them. She sprang at Ira, taking him and the camera equipment to the ground, but became tangled in the legs of the tripod. When she scrambled to her feet, she seized Ira by the arm.
    Sam threw himself at the animal, hitting her in the rib cage with his shoulder and knocking her off balance. She and Sam rolled in the dust. Sam instinctively clung to her body to prevent her swinging around to strike him. The lioness snarled and twisted her strong body against his grasp. Sam could feel her muscles rippling under his grip. She freed a forepaw