2 $2 After Big Game in Central Africa 



and turns half round with an indecisive air. Ah ! is 

 it again going to charge ? No: it resumes its journey 

 and makes off. . . . 



I scrutinise the place where it stopped, looking for 

 a corpse and fearing to discover one. I look at the 

 tree-trunks with the fear of finding blood on them. 

 Ah ! at last I perceive poor Msiambiri stretched on 

 the ground. As I draw near, he raises himself on 

 his elbow and looks in the direction of his enemy. 

 His face is that violet hue which is equivalent among 

 the negroes to pallidness. His loin-cloth is stained 

 with blood. I bend over him. 



"Are you wounded, Msiambiri ? " 



"No. . . . Nothing is broken; but I have pains 

 everywhere." 



" What happened ? " 



" It seized me by the waist and threw me under 

 its feet to crush me ; but it threw me too hard. . . . 

 I passed through its legs and fell here. I didn't 

 move any more : so I escaped its eye. It searched on 

 the ground, but only on the other side. The wind is 

 in our favour. He has not scented me." 



"Did it hurt when it seized you with its 

 trunk ? " 



" Not at all. I thought it was going to break my 

 head against a tree, or pin me to a trunk with its 

 tusks, as happened to poor Katchepa ; but it wanted 

 to crush me with its feet. . . . Have you seen the 

 dead elephant ? " 



" Which one ? The big one over there in the 

 glade, at the moment we were charged ? " 



