Hunting in East Africa 



and, losing my head, ran straight away in front 

 of him. I should have run to one side and 

 then up the hill. What was my horror, when 

 pounding away at a good gait, not more than 

 fifty feet in front of the snorting rhino, to find 

 myself hurled to the ground, having twisted 

 my ankle. I thought all was over, when I had 

 the instinct to roll to one side and then scram- 

 ble to my feet. The beast passed on. When 

 he reached the bottom of the hill his pace 

 slackened to a walk, and I returned to where I 

 had left my .577 and killed him at my leisure. 

 I found the 8-bore bullet had shattered his off 

 hind leg, and that my second shot had pene- 

 trated his lungs. I had left the few men I had 

 brought with me on a neighboring hill when I 

 had first caught sight of the rhinos, and now 

 sent for them. Not liking to waste the meat, 

 I sent to camp for twenty porters to carry it 

 back. I reached camp that night at 12:30 a. m., 

 feeling quite worn out. 



After a day's rest we marched to Tok-i-Tok, 

 the frontier of Masai land. This place is at 

 certain seasons of the year the pasture ground 

 of one of the worst bands of Masai. I found 

 it nearly deserted. The Masai I met said their 

 brethren were all gone on a war raid, and that 



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