six o’clock
to every bush . And every evening , before lying down , he went into ambush for two or three hours . Useless trouble , however , for the lion did not show himself . One evening , though , going on six o'clock , as the caravan scrambled through a violet-hued mastic-grove , where fat quails tumbled about in the grass , drowsy through the heat , Tartarin of Tarascon fancied he heard though afar and very vague , and thinned down by the breeze -- that wondrous roaring to which he had so often listened by Mitaine 's Menagerie at home . At first the hero feared he was dreaming ; but in an instant further the roaring recommenced more distinct , although yet remote ; and this time the camel 's hump shivered in terror , and made the tinned meats and arms in the cases rattle , whilst all the dogs in the camps were heard howling in every corner of the horizon . Beyond doubt this was the lion . Quick , quick !