426 THE LAND OF THE LION 



into a red hollow among some thorn trees, battered his 

 head, and rubbed his tick-bitten sides against the rough, 

 scrapy earth. 



Three tough thorn trees stood close together within a 

 few feet of his wallow, and I saw at once that here might 

 be an admirable chance to photograph him before shoot- 

 ing, as the stems of the tough thorn supplied me both with 

 a screen and a defence till I should have time to lay down 

 my camera and take my rifle. Off we set, therefore, to 

 make our stalk, Brownie and I. The donga had first to 

 be crossed, and so densely dark and deep was it that I had 

 to give up my rifle, scramble down without it, and be 

 helped up on the other side. Just as we were getting close 

 to the rhino, he suddenly decided he would do something 

 else, and out of his wallow he scrambled and came along, 

 aimlessly pushing first to one side then to another right 

 across our front. Just here there was no grass and bad 

 as a rhino's sight is, in such a place if we stirred, he couldn't 

 fail to see our dark bodies moving over the sunbaked yellow 

 earth. He saved us all trouble by ambling along in one 

 direction. About seventy yards away he must have smelt 

 us. There was but little wind, but what there was blew 

 from us to him; and he came to a dead stop, stamping and 

 snorting as rhinos do. I hit him low down and well 

 forward in the shoulder. He spun round once or twice, 

 and then made a straight line for where I was sitting, 

 coming fast. I didn't fire my left barrel, as I wanted to 

 see what he would do, for plainly he was mortally wounded. 



Here, now, was another pretty illustration of what is 

 so often described, and described inaccurately, as a charg- 

 ing rhino. 



Had I kept on firing, as is usually the custom, any 

 one looking on would have said that that rhino was bent 

 on getting his enemy, and that his charge was only stopped 

 or turned aside by repeated rifle fire. Nothing [of the sort 



