drew her close to me. She responded by doing the same to me, and for several moments we remained in a close, pressing embrace. We parted without saying a word.

For me Mona had only one drawback and it was one I did not find too difficult to overlook: the furtive glances my husband cast at her when he thought I wasn't observant enough to notice. Obviously this showed she had what it took to make a white man give an African belle more than a casual look after he had done it once.

As for Sam and myself I will say frankly that I appreciated him only for his companionship and mainstay qualities; beyond that point our relations did not go after less than a year of married life. I did enjoy going with him on his small hunting safaris; our financial status did not permit large ones. Under his careful supervision I managed to shoot a full-grown lion and lioness that had taken to raiding native cattle corrals. Also I brought down a gazelle and several other species.

Then came that rainy African night, when the raindrops drummed on our roof, the thunder rumbled in something like a moan, and the lightning streaked from the overcast like it were weary. It was the kind of night weather that instilled a wanderlust in lions that caused the beasts to leave their natural habitats and wander for miles. A pride of lions came to prowl around our bungalow; we heard their chug-like coughing and their heavy padding as they walked on the muddy terrain around the house.

The annoying brutes had their way until there was a heavy sound of something on the veranda. It gave you the feeling of fear that any moment a lion would break the door down inward and come into the room. Even Mona showed nervousness. It was then that Sam got up from his chair a bit hurriedly and picked up one of our big-calibered rifles and an electric torch. "Come and hold the torch for me, Louise," Sam requested me in a command voice.

When we had stepped out on the veranda, he flashed the torch about in the glistening drops of rain until its circle of light revealed the dripping wet head of a huge lion.

"Here, keep it on him," Sam told me as I took the torch from him and beamed it steadily. The scraggly-wet beast just stood there and blinked its eyes stupidly until the rifle's report shattered the night and the heavy slug smashed into the lion's head. The brute's last struggling caused the mud to spurt into our faces. After that we had peace. Natural instinct warning the others that a like fate would befall them if they persisted, they departed.

The next morning it was still drizzling. Sam thought it necessary to make a distant trip.

"There's nothing for you to go along for, Louise, that is, if you won't mind staying alone overnight with Mona," Sam told me.

Would I! Not when I could take a big-calibered rifle in my hand and have Mona focus the torch on the target. With that phase settled, Sam drove off in our jeep wagon.

It was while I was attempting to take a mid-day siesta in the heat of the day, with Mona busy in the kitchen, that in my mind events started to shape up for the cooler night. When the night's swift coming darkness had descended, I took a tepid shower. Then I told Mona to shower herself.

When she stepped forth with only a towel draped around herself, I approached her with a vial of perfume as expensive as I had been able to afford. I dabbed