THE HARMLESS GIRAFFE 



third time, but with the same result. I knew that I must 

 have hit the animal, and said to the gun bearer : " He must 

 have a charmed life; give me the big gun." This was 

 the powerful .577 Express rifle, by the natives called 

 " msinga " (cannon). 



We had in the meantime kept pace with the giraffe, as 

 he was still simply walking away, and at about the same 

 distance I fired with the big gun, aiming again for his 

 heart. Now the big bull instantly stopped and allowed us 

 to come right up to him. This splendid opportunity was 

 used by us to make some good pictures of the old giraffe, 

 which tried in vain to walk away from the spot. He 

 could evidently only lift one of his front legs a little. 

 There he stood, without uttering a single sound, looking 

 straight at us for a few minutes. Then his hind legs gave 

 away, and suddenly he toppled over backwards and fell 

 dead. 



The fact was disclosed, when we were skinning the 

 animal, that all the three " soft-nose " bullets fired from 

 the Winchester had only penetrated his skin, which is about 

 an inch thick, and lodged in the ribs right over the heart, 

 not more than a few inches apart from each other, whereas 

 the one steel-capped bullet from the .577 Express had 

 crashed through the side of the giraffe, penetrated its 

 heart, broken two ribs on the opposite side and almost pro- 

 truded through the skin! As the wounded giraffe looked 

 up at me with his beautiful eyes, I felt that, had it not 

 been for the sake of the American Museum of Natural His- 

 tory in New York, for which I was collecting specimens 

 of big game at the time, I would never have forgiven 

 myself for killing this magnificent animal. I thought, 



79 



