Lake Victoria to Khartoum 



savage, and I ran gasping at right angles to our 

 previous course, and fell behind the convenient 

 trunk of a forest tree, whilst the infuriated 

 monster thundered on her way between me and 

 my orderly, stopping dead in another fifty yards 

 or so as there was no more human smell to 

 pursue. However, I had heard of elephants 

 hunting one — usually only if wounded, it is true — 

 and wasn't taking any, so, deciding that this was 

 no place for me, turned round and fled back 

 along the way we had come, back in the direc- 

 tion of the main herd, blowing a couple of blasts 

 on my whistle as I went to attract the other men. 



The heat was stifling, and I might have just 

 emerged from a Turkish bath, as what with funk 

 and the total absence of breeze in the grass I was 

 wet from top to toe. Then we joined up and 

 collected our scattered wits, and I my shattered 

 nerves. The others took the whole thing as 

 a gigantic jest, as I did after a bit, though I will 

 own it provided food for thought at the time. 



My followers were as keen as mustard, not 

 wholly on account of the customary '* back- 

 sheesh " with which one rewards them for every 

 elephant slain, but chiefly because of this late 

 episode — being routed by a cow. One dashed 

 off after the herd, and returned with the news 

 that they were still peacefully feeding, and that 

 there was quite a good bull — bigger than this 

 morning's — at the tail of the herd. 



270 



