92 IN AFRICA 



beasts. He had apparently abdicated. He had 

 vanished so completely that I thought he had es- 

 caped toward some low hills a mile farther on. The 

 disappointment of seeing a lion and not getting 

 it, or at least shooting at it, was keen to a degree 

 that actually hurt. 



There was nothing left but to resume our chase 

 after the wounded rhino. It was like going back 

 to work after a pleasant two weeks' vacation. We 

 presently found him on a far distant hill, and after 

 an hour's tramp in the sun we came up to him in 

 the middle of the rolling prairie. There was not a 

 tree for a mile, nor a single avenue of escape in case 

 he charged. Horticulture had never interested me 

 especially, but just at this moment I think a tree, 

 even a thorn tree, would have been a pleasant sub- 

 ject for intimate study. However, to make a 

 long story longer, I shot him at a hundred yards 

 and felt certain that both shells struck. Yet he 

 wheeled around and, stumbling occasionally, was 

 off like a railway train. Again we followed, two 

 miles of desperate tramping in that merciless sun, 

 up hills and down hills, until finally we entirely lost 

 all trace of him. It was now two o'clock. I had 

 eaten nothing since five o'clock in the morning, my 

 water bottle was so nearly empty that I dared take 

 only a swallow at a time, my knees were sore from 

 climbing hills and wading through the tall, dry 

 prairie grass, and I decided to give up this endless 

 pursuit of a rhino who wouldn't die after being hit 

 with four cordite shells. 



