ON THE KAMBUKENAAR RIVER. 187 



up at times among the natives (who, however, rarely 

 molest an elephant), and also among the planters. At 

 all events, it had had plenty of powder behind it, for it 

 was nearly buried in the skull, and had certainly been 

 there some years. 



Shortly afterwards we made our second short trip 

 away from camp. The night had been wet and the 

 jungle was soaking when we left our cart. We had not 

 gone far when I noticed a buffalo turn up a side-track. 

 I told Will, who was leading, and he uncased and loaded 

 his rifle. It was lucky for him that he took this 

 precaution, for as he arrived at the spot the bull charged 

 out of the jungle so suddenly that it seemed to me, 

 looking on from behind, that his rifle touched the brute 

 before I saw the flash. At all events it was so close 

 that the great head actually fell on Will's foot. It 

 never moved again, for, perhaps more by luck than 

 judgment, the bullet had crashed right through the 

 spine, half-way between head and withers. 



This was not to be the only bit of luck Will was to 

 have that day, for as we were returning to our cart, 

 whither the trackers had preceded us with a couple of 

 spotted deer, an utterly unexpected event took place. 

 An elephant burst out of some jungle to our right, and 

 crossed the glade, going at a fair pace. Will had his 

 i2-bore ready, and before I could realise his intention, 

 had fired. To my surprise and astonishment the great 

 brute rolled head over heels like a rabbit, and lay dead. 

 Considering it was about forty yards away, and the 

 killing circle on the side of an elephant's head is about 

 as big as the palm of one's hand, it was a wonderful shot. 



