it had been too much torn to be recognizable, and she concluded it was
the remains of some small animal he had killed.

At any other time he would have gone out again to fetch some food for
his wife, but he was so heavy and sleepy that, with one big yawn, he
sank down, stretched out his huge paws in front of him, and, nestling
his handsome head comfortably between them, sank into a deep sleep.

From that day Leo was no longer the same. He was restless and
irritable, snappy and fierce even to his wife and children. He raced
no more after buffaloes or giraffes, or even for antelopes or jaguars;
all he wanted was human flesh.

Once having tasted it, he cared for and could eat no other. And as
time went on his magnificent coat began to come off in great,
unsightly patches, his eyes and mouth got sore and red, and his limbs
grew weak and rickety. His roar was no longer the fierce, grand,
triumphant roar that it had been; it resembled a hoarse cry of pain
now, and his little ones--instead of being sturdy little cubs as they
had been--had grown thin, miserable, and mangy.

Altogether Leo was in a miserable state; and, to add to his misery,
his wife turned against him. The sight of his mangy coat and bloodshot
eyes, not to speak of the sore, drooping mouth, filled her with
disgust, and she growled fiercely whenever he came near her.

In vain he brought her food to eat; but the food was always dead
Kaffir, and she would not touch it.

She appeared, too, to turn against the cubs, and, instead of fondling