The beaters refused to advance until Stephenson joined them with his big rifle.

I moved forward on the side lines and the moving-picture machine reeled off yards of film.
A man has to appear brave when a camera is turned on him, but with two lions a few feet away there was not a tendency to advance with that impetuous dash that one would like to see in a moving picture of oneself.

Anyway, I tried to keep up an appearance of advancing without actually covering much territory.
One of my gunbearers suddenly clutched my arm and pointed into the reeds.

There, only a few feet away, was the tawny figure of a lion, either lying down or crouching.

I fired and nearly blew its head off.