THE HUNTER'S LIFE 



leaves, now and then flashing from the gleaming 

 ivory of the Titanic monsters, as they tossed 

 their stupendous heads. A cascade of blue and 

 scarlet flowers tumbles from a creeper near by 

 and lies trampled in my path, etc., etc.' These 

 things may impress the mind subconsciously, but 

 they are utterly irrelevant to the hunter at a 

 critical moment, and such descriptions, however 

 much they may appeal to some minds, I have 

 studiously avoided in my narrative, because to 

 me they seem out of place. The run of my 

 thoughts is generally : 'Will he give me a 

 heart shot, or a brain shot ? If I wound him 

 will he bolt or will he charge? If he charges 

 well, it is the old duel over again, the duel that 

 I have fought successfully up till now. This time 

 my luck may turn. He may finish my career 

 well, what of it? I am here to take his life 

 all's fair in war. There is no time for " past 

 regrets or future fears." If I fail to drop him 

 and he charges, all excitement vanishes. I ex- 

 perience no shadow of fear. During the actual 

 tracking there is always a lively sense of danger 

 I can hardly call it fear but now none at all, 

 and I can only describe my mental state at such 

 a moment as a brain working at white heat 

 without a trace of emotion. 



Fortune may favour me and enable me to bag 



