THE HIPPOPOTAMUS. (325 



the surface, takes in the required amount of air, and sinks back again to the river bed. More- 

 over, it will often be so extremely wary, that it will not protrude even its mouth in the open 

 water, and looks out for some reeds or floating substances which may cover its movements 

 while breathing. As a general rule, it is found that the most deadly wound that can be given 

 to a Hippopotamus is on the nose, for the animal is then unable to remain below the surface, 

 and consequently presents an easy mark to the hunter. A heavy ball just below the shoulder 

 always gives a mortal wound, and in default of such a mark being presented, the eye or the 

 ear is a good place to aim at. 



The most exciting manner of hunting the Hippopotamus is by fairly chasing and harpoon- 

 ing it, as if it were a whale or a walrus. This mode of sport is described very vividly by Mr. 

 Andersson. 



The harpoon is a very ingenious instrument, being composed of two portions, a shaft 

 measuring three or four inches in thickness and ten or twelve feet in length, and a barbed iron 

 point, which fits loosely into a socket in the head of the shaft, and is connected with it by 

 means of a rope composed of a number of separate strands. This peculiar rope is employed to 

 prevent the animal from severing it, which he would soon manage were it to be composed of a 

 single strand. To the other end of the shaft a strong line is fastened, and to the other end of 

 the line a float or buoy is attached. As this composite harpoon is very weighty it is not thrown 

 at the animal, but is urged by the force of the harpooner's arm. The manner of employing it 

 shall be told in Mr. Andersson' s own words : 



' ' As soon as the position of the Hippopotami is ascertained, one or more of the most 

 skilful and intrepid of the hunters stand prepared with the harpoons ; whilst the rest make 

 ready to launch the canoes, should the attack prove successful. The bustle and noise caused 

 by these preparations gradually subside. Conversation is carried on in a whisper, and every 

 one is on the qui-vive. The snorting and plunging become every moment more distinct ; but 

 a bend in the stream still hides the animals from view. The angle being passed, several dark 

 objects are seen floating listlessly on the water, looking more like the crests of sunken rocks 

 than living creatures. Ever and anon, one or other of the shapeless masses is submerged, but 

 soon again makes its appearance on the surface. On, on, glides the raft with its sable crew, 

 who are now worked up to the highest state of excitement. At last, the raft is in the midst of 

 the herd, who appear quite unconscious of danger. Presently one of the animals is in imme- 

 diate contact with the raft. Now is the critical moment. The foremost harpooner raises 

 himself to his full height, to give the greater force to the blow, and the next instant the fatal 

 iron descends with unerring accuracy in the body of the Hippopotamus. 



"The wounded animal plunges violently, and dives to the bottom ; but all his efforts to 

 escape are unavailing. The line or the shaft of the harpoon may break ; but the cruel barb 

 once imbedded in the flesh, the weapon (owing to the toughness and thickness of the beast's 

 hide) cannot be withdrawn. 



"As soon as the Hippopotamus is struck, one or more of the men launch a canoe from off 

 the raft, and hasten to the shore with the harpoon-line, and take a round turn with it about a 

 tree, or bunch of reeds, so that the animal may either be ' brought up ' at once, or, should 

 there be too great a strain on the line, ' played ' (to liken small things to great) in the same 

 manner as the salmon by the fishermen. But if time should not admit of the line being passed 

 round a tree, or the like, both line and ' buoy ' are thrown into the water, and the animal goes 

 wherever he chooses. 



"The rest of the canoes are now all launched from off the raft, and chase is given to the poor 

 brute, who, so soon as he comes to the surface to breathe, is saluted with a shower of light 

 javelins. Again he descends, his track deeply crimsoned with gore. Presently — and perhaps 

 at some little distance — he once more appeal's on the surface, when, as before, missiles of all 

 kinds are hurled at his devoted head. 



' ' When thus beset, the infuriated beast not unf requently turns upon his assailants, and 

 either with his formidable tusks, or with a blow from his enormous head, staves in or capsizes 

 the canoes. At times, indeed, not satisfied with wreaking his vengeance on the craft, he 



