XI 



HUNTING THE ELEPHANT 



I HAD been unsuccessfully trying for months to take 

 satisfactory long-distance pictures of elephants and 

 to capture a young one alive. At last my patience was 

 amply rewarded one morning in September. A number 

 of elephants — most likely to escape the poisoned arrows 

 of the Wakamba — came down from the mountainous 

 region and paid a visit to my camp near the brook. 

 They had crossed and recrossed the brook repeated- 

 ly, and had approached within a thousand feet of the 

 camp. I followed in their track, to study their ways, 

 and found that they had not, as I supposed they would, 

 taken the direction towards the mountains, but had 

 turned their steps, in single file, into the steppe. I re- 

 turned to the camp, prepared myself for a long march, 

 and started in pursuit, taking with me my best-armed 

 men and about forty carriers. The herd numbered 

 twenty or more, to judge from the traces. Some young 

 ones were among them, a number of strong females, 

 and also a few bulls; the latter I could easily make 

 out by the long and narrow impressions made by their 



lOO 



