ELEPHANT 133 



colour, received the news, which the sound of breaking 

 branches ought to have conveyed to me sooner, that a 

 herd of elephants were close by, with delight. One 

 does not miss one's first real chance at elephants. I 

 thought to myself — if I do demise, what a duffer my 

 ghost will think my corporeal self for not having at 

 least tried to secure such trophies. 



A few minutes brought me to the herd. I selected a 

 pair of bulls standing asleep head to tail. The question 

 was what to aim at. The bamboos spoiled the chance 

 of a shoulder shot, so I determined to try the one at 

 the leg which I had heard advocated with great heat 

 by a Mr. Know-all, who quoted Selous as his authority. 

 According to him, one fired at the knee, anchored the 

 elephant by breaking the bone, and finished him off at 

 one's leisure. I stalked to within seventeen yards of 

 my quarry (most people go closer when they can) and 

 fired with my black-powder .500. Instead of falling 

 down the elephant bounded forward, and, for some 

 inexplicable reason, turned like a polo pony and made 

 off. I followed for some distance, but regretfully had 

 to interpret his trumpeting as the elephantine version 

 of " The Anchor's Weighed — farewell." 



I went back to my hut as I did not feel fit enough 

 to go on, but at about 4 p.m. I sallied forth again. I 

 came on the herd feeding in very dense bamboo. As 

 seen through the branches they appeared to be made 

 of swaying tails and trunks. I sent my man away and 

 climbed a tree — a most foolish thing to do as, had 

 they got my wind, they might have hooked me out like 

 a periwinkle. I fired to make them break cover as I 



