Then one noon the
lion came. The flock were, as usual, cropping grass and chewing and
would not have noticed the intruder for a long time were it not that
Hari sensed his presence the very moment he stepped from the forest
into the open meadow.
'Lion!'
he cried, so great was his joy and his surprise.
To the flock this
cry was a warning. They scattered helter-skelter, bleating in blind
panic. But Hari stood his ground and waited. Not that he was
unafraid, but he had learned that there are much worse things than
being eaten by a lion. He stood trembling from head to foot and
waited. The lion ignored the scampering sheep and headed straight
for Hari. Soon he stood so close that Hari could smell the perfume
of his breath. Still he did not move. He closed his eyes and tensed
himself for the black claws to enter his flesh and the white teeth
to rend him.
Then suddenly he
heard a low, soft roar like thunder in the distance. 'What
is the matter?' the lion was saying.
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