BRITISH EAST AFRICA 249 



drew my attention like a magnet. I fired, and the 

 elephant fell on his knees. I saw two white sickles 

 curving out from his jaw, and, taking a step forward, 

 fired again behind his shoulder. He was exactly eight 

 yards off, for I stepped it afterwards. Hassan fired 

 one shot from the small-bore ; then, and I am not in 

 the least ashamed to say it, I ran like a rabbit. 



K 



Hassan joined me directly, and after comparing notes 

 we returned to the spot from which we had taken our 

 shots. The porters had bolted, nor could I altogether 

 blame them. They had taken my camera and 

 eventually lost themselves, spent the night in the 

 forest, and turned up the next morning. For a 

 hundred yards or more there was no sign of blood. 

 Then big red splashes and clots marked the elephant's 

 track. For a long time these continued, and I knew 

 from the colour of the blood and its frothy appearance 

 that he was shot through the lungs. We had a long 

 and tiring chase. One or two squealing cries broke 

 the stillness of the forest, but they were not repeated. 

 Then in some thick, marshy cover we lost the blood ; 

 it was late in the afternoon, so very reluctantly 

 we resolved to leave him. 



We got back to camp very late, to find that 

 Burton had been out all day but had had no luck, 

 though he had come across some fresh tracks. 



In my tent I found a telegram awaiting me, which 

 had been brought by a special runner. I will not 

 dwell on the darkest hours of my life. My worst 

 fears were realised the next day in a second cable. 



