150 WANDERINGS AND MEMORIES 



I never even fired a trial shot. The first cartridge 

 I fired was at an elephant (the fifty-pounder). I 

 wasted the left on him too when he ran, to make 

 assurance doubly sure, as he was by himself; but 

 he didn't go more than 100 yards before he came 

 down with that glorious crash that is the acme 

 of the hunter's exaltation. 



" Tell Rigby I will write to him myself later on, 

 when I have killed some monsters and can speak 

 from greater experience of the rifle's performances. 

 The only really big elephant I have shot yet was 

 one alone in quite another part of the country, 

 close to native kraals. It was sundown and he 

 had been alarmed, and I had to take a stern-on 

 shot, and only got the one in. It is a horribly over- 

 grown country, and he was not found for some 

 days. Then I had moved, and a blasted German, 

 who seems to live by preying upon the natives, 

 one of Eliot's proteges, bagged the tusks (a splendid 

 pair), pretending to claim it as an elephant he 

 had shot a month before. He won't give them up, 

 and I can't very well take them by force — it would 

 be too disastrous an exhibition before the natives 

 of the country for two white men to go to war with 

 each other away here in the wilds. 



" I don't apologise for the egotism of this 

 letter, because I have nothing else to write about, 

 and I believe you like to hear about my doings. 

 I got a rather nice lion one day, but there was 

 no excitement about the shooting of it, and I 

 don't feel the least elated at killing one — rather 

 bored to have so much trouble with the skin. 



" I hope you and yours are well and thriving. 

 Send me a line or two some day (to c/o Smith, 



