AN ELEPHANT HUNT IN CEYLON 5 



splashed about, perspiring at every pore, with- 

 out seeing a single thing. Suddenly we heard 

 a most peculiar noise. It sounded like distant 

 thunder, dull and rumbling. 



As we came nearer our guide whispered 

 that it was the snoring of an elephant which, 

 quite close to us, was enjoying his post- 

 prandial sleep. He was right. After we had 

 crept along for another three hundred yards — 

 this creeping was, as a matter of fact, no easy 

 matter, for the state of the ground was not 

 far removed from that of the Pontine marshes, 

 and we slipped about in a most miserable 

 manner — we saw the colossal brute leaning on 

 one side, grey and massive, with his head 

 turned towards us, fast asleep. 



The spot at which I ought to aim had been 

 impressed upon me : if approaching from the 

 side, at a triangle on the head between the eye 

 and the ear; if from the front, immediately 

 above the top of the trunk. 



These theoretical instructions were all very 

 well in their way, but when you are standing only 

 some thirty paces — the distance was not greater 



