CHAPTER XI 



THE WHITE TRAIL 



NEAR the Kibali Hill, at the source of the Ban- 

 galla River, I had, some years ago, a peculiar 

 experience with an elephant. During the forenoon, 

 I came up with him as he was placidly making a 

 meal on the juicy fruits of the mbura tree a large- 

 stoned, brownish golden fruit of which elephants are 

 peculiarly fond but, a clump of small trees inter- 

 vening between me and my quarry, shooting was a 

 matter of extreme difficulty, and the first bullet from 

 my '577, instead of penetrating his brain, went 

 slightly high, and with a hoarse scream, the animal 

 promptly bolted. After about another hour's 

 tracking under the direct rays of a broiling tropical 

 sun, we came up with him again, and so little 

 impression had my first ^bullet made on him, that 

 he had once more stopped to feed, and when we 

 actually caught sight of him, was sucking up water 

 from his stomach with his trunk and sending it in a 

 refreshing spray over his back. Trusting to take 

 him unawares while indulging in this cooling 



