254 The Rifle and Hound in Ceylon. 



We unsaddled, and ordered breakfast to be ready for 

 our I'eturn beneath one of the most shady trees, and 

 having loaded, we started off upon the tracks. As I 

 had expected, they led to a thick thorny jungle, and 

 slowly and cautiously we followed the leading tracker. 

 The jungle became worse and worse as we advanced, 

 and had it not been for the path which the elephants 

 had formed, we could not have moved an inch. The 

 leaves of the bushes were wet with dew, and we were 

 obliged to cover up all the gun-locks to prevent any of 

 them missing fire. We crept for about a quarter of a 

 mile upon this track, when the sudden snapping of a 

 branch a hundred paces in advance plainly showed 

 that we were up with the game. 



This is the exciting moment in elephant-shooting, 

 and every breath is held for a second intimation of the 

 exact position of the herd. A deep, guttural sound, 

 like the rolling of very distant thunder, is heard, accom- 

 panied by the rustling and cracking of the branches as 

 they rub their tough sides against the trees. Our ad- 

 vance had been so stealthy that they were perfectly un- 

 disturbed. Silently and carefully we crept up, and in a 

 few minutes I distinguished two immense heads ex- 

 actly facing us at about ten paces distant. Three more 

 indistinct forms loomed in the thick bushes just behind 

 the leaders. 



A quiet whisper to Wortley to take a cool shot at 

 the left-hand elephant, in the exact centre of the fore- 

 head, and down went the two leaders, Wortley's and 

 mine ; quickly we ran into the herd, before they knew 

 what had happened, and down went another to V. 

 Baker's shot. The smoke hung in such thick volumes 

 that we could hardly see two yards before us, when 



