Once, I heard a thrilling story from a story-teller of our town. When I heard him describe, my hairs stood at their ends. This story is as follows.
Once a great hunter went to the African jungle to bag a lion. When the sun went down and the evening came he climbed on a tree and sheltered himself on a high branch of it. At the dead of the night, three deadly lions came and rolled on the ground under the tree. The hunter fired a shot but the shot missed the. Now, all the three lions looked upward and discovered the man on the high branch. One of the lions sprang aiming at the man. The man climbed down a foot and so the lion fell on the other side of the tree. Then another lion aimed at the man. This time, the man climbed one foot up and so he was missed by the lion. Now, all the lions sprang at the same time one at the same lion on which the hunter was; another a foot above, and the third one, a foot below. This time the hunter jumped on to another tree which was a little distance.
Under this tree three was a mighty tusker. When the tusker saw the man, it wished to uproot the tree. The tusker twisted its trunk round the trunk of the tree and gave such a violent pull that the tree was uprooted and fell down.
Immediately before the tree fell down the hunter jumped to a river nearby. But there, in the river he was spied by large crocodile. The crocodile rushed at the hunter with a speed of lighting. But the hunter was a great swimmer. He was too swift to be caught by the crocodile. The crocodile could not catch him and the hunter came safe to the other side of the river.
The story is no doubtful of romance. It is thrilling no doubt. But it appeared more thrilling when the teller told it with movement of his hands and eyes.