A lion run is discovered, and, unmindful of promises which must be fulfilled, they prepare to secure a fine specimen. This is accomplished by building a trap, a large hole dug in the soft earth and carefully covered with canebrake and jungle grass. This being arranged, a toothsome goat is bound upon a jutting rock directly in the monarch’s path in such manner that the hidden trap must be crossed before the bait can be reached. The party then conceal themselves and await results. The lion soon finds his prey, and unwittingly walks into the pitfall. The bearers rush forward a cage, brought along for that purpose, and a magnificent jungle monarch is soon started on his long journey to America. But our party came to Africa to hunt, and our mighty leader has promised himself that he will add to his list of big game brought down by my rifle, “at least one King of Beasts.” Menelik Dodo, a noted tracker of big game, leads our hunter to a spot where his desire can be fulfilled. We first see Menelik on the king’s track. Our hunter conceals himself in a thicket to the windward side of a spring, where Menelik declares the forest lord is wont to drink. This proves to be correct, as a handsome male specimen soon trots leisurely into view. There is a sharp report and the startled animal springs in the air, whirls out of sight for a moment, then charges direct at our hunter. The repeating rifle cracks again, and the king is down with an ounce of lead in his brain, and the wish of years has been gratified, he has shot his first lion. The bearers arrive and swing the trophy on a pole and carry it triumphantly to camp. An expert taxidermist is called in and this once lordly beast who has roamed the African jungles as a monarch, soon yields all that is lasting of his majestic beauty, to adorn the floor of a Long Island den. Our hunters prepare to rest after their strenuous labors and all retire, dee-lighted with their first day in the jungles.