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‘He came in yesterday on the afternoon train.’
    ‘Who is he?’
    ‘A white hunter. His name is Dugan.’
    ‘What does he want here?’
    Tanga shifted in his chair. ‘I don’t think that concerns you.’
    ‘But I think it does. If a man won’t stand and talk to me, that concerns me. What does he have against me?’
    ‘Well, as a matter of fact, Mr Hunt … you took his job.’
    ‘How in the world did I do that? I don’t even know the fellow. I never saw him before in my life.’
    Tanga settled back and looked up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any harm in telling you. About a month ago we began to have trouble with man-eaters. Dugan had helped us before,, so we called him in. He went gunning for the lions and he killed some but evidently not the right ones. We kept right on losing men. So that’s why I went to the warden and he recommended you. We fired Dugan. He’s very sore about it, I’m afraid. He came yesterday and wanted his job back.’
    ‘He’s welcome to it,’ Hal said promptly. ‘We’re not
    doing so well with it ourselves. You know there was another man killed last night.’
    ‘Yes, I know. But you’ve only been on the job two days. Anyhow, I refused to take him back. I thought he would get out of here on the night train. But he’s still hanging around. I think he means mischief. Look out for him. He’s hoping you will fail - and he’ll help you fail, if he can. He wouldn’t stop at anything.’
    Hal thought of the loose tent flaps; He was sure that neither he nor Roger could have left them open. Even a very smart lion couldn’t untie them. Perhaps this sorehead had done it.
    Hal said nothing about it to Tanga. After all, it was a serious matter - to accuse a man of attempted murder. He would just keep quiet and see what happened next.
    He went back to his tent.
    Roger was trying to give his cub a drink.
    He had placed a pan of water on the floor. Now he was pressing the cub’s nose down into the water.
    Hal laughed. ‘What are you trying to do - drown your cub?’
    ‘He must be thirsty. Why doesn’t he drink?’
    ‘Why does he have to be thirsty?’ Hal asked.
    ‘Because all animals are. Listen, don’t tell me about pets. I’ve had leopards and baboons and a baby elephant and a cheetah. They were all heavy drinkers.’
    ‘But you haven’t had a lion,’ Hal said. ‘Don’t you know a lion can go a week without water? You might almost think he’s a cousin to the camel.’
    ‘But this little chump isn’t old enough to catch antelopes.’
    ‘True. But Nature takes care of that. Until he’s old enough to hunt, his mother’s milk gives him both food and liquid.’
    ‘Funny he doesn’t like water.’
    ‘He loves water. Let go of him and see what he does.’
    Roger released the cub which immediately slapped its big flat front paws into the pan, splashing water in all directions. The hind paws followed. The paws were too large for the animal. They reminded Roger of snow-shoes, or big floppy fins on the feet of a skin-diver. The little beast would have to grow before he would catch up with the size of his paws. They went slap-slap-slap in the shallow water.
    ‘What are you going to call him?’ Hal asked.
    Roger watched his cub flopping about on those furry, over-sized pads, and said, ‘There’s only one name for him. Flop.’
    Flop flopped over on his back and waved all four snow-shoes in the air. He rolled about in the water with evident enjoyment.
    ‘Now there’s another funny thing,’ Roger said. ‘He won’t drink it but he likes to be in it. He’s crazy. Doesn’t he knows that cats don’t like to get wet?’
    ‘He doesn’t follow all the cat rules. A lion likes to play in the water and he’s a good swimmer.’
    Flop bounced out of the pan, climbed up on Roger’s knee, and whacked the boy’s face with one big, soaking-wet paw. The blow was almost hard enough to make Roger see stars.
    ‘Hey, cut that out.’ Roger wiped his face with the