278 THE STORY OF THE RHINOCEROS. 



I must kill the old bull, or be killed myself almost inevitably. He was 

 not ten feet from me, and striving to pull clear from the body of the 

 rhinoceros, which he had pinned into the very ground. 



I ran round the fallen elephant, and, before he could draw clear, I stood 

 almost touching his temple with my rifle. 



One flash! It was enough! Struck through the brain, the old bull 

 dropped instantaneously, and I was safe! 



The female elephants, panic-stricken at the noise and the flash, scattered 

 in all directions in dismay. 



In five minutes I was alone! 



In Southeastern Africa both species of rhinoceros generally leave their 

 lairs about four o'clock in the afternoon, or, in districts where there are many 

 human beings, somewhat later. Tliey commence feeding in the direction of 

 their drinking places, to which they travel by regular beaten paths, and arrive 

 at the same somewhere about dark. If the drinking place is a mudhole they 

 frequently refresh themselves with a roll, after drinking their fill. They 

 then start for their favorite thorn feeding grounds, where they remain till 

 daybreak, when they generally again drink. At an earlier or later hour after 

 this, the time being to some extent dependent on the freedom of the district 

 from human intrusion, they retire tO' their sleeping places, which they reach 

 at any rate before the heat of the day. The lair is always in an extremely 

 sheltered and deeply-shaded spot, and so heavily do they slumber that a 

 practiced stalker could almost touch them with the muzzle of a gun, unless 

 they are awakened by the birds which always accompany them. 



