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 But when the sun is going down, he leaves his den and goes forth to hunt.

Thirty or forty miles are only a nice walk for him! Down he marches from his mountain home.

When he comes near the Arab tents, he steals along on his softly cushioned feet, that make no sound as he treads.

When all is still, his terrible voice is heard, and in the silence of the night it sounds like thunder!

The dogs bark, and the horses, oxen, and camels rush about in wild terror. The men light fires all around, and toss about flaming torches, to try to scare him away.

He minds them very little, and the thunder of his voice drowns every other sound. He walks straight on to the place where the cattle are, and in a few minutes three or four oxen fall beneath his terrible paws.