162 TWO DIANAS IN SOMALILAND 
diately around the pachyderm, but a thick belt of 
khansa and mimosa jungle lay to our left and the 
country behind us was fairly thick. 
All this unexpected treat was joy untold to Cecily, I 
suppose ; it was absolute horror to me. If she could 
have had the affair all to herself it wouldn’t have 
mattered, but how are you to know which hunter the 
rhino may select to chase ? His sight is so poor, his 
charge goes this way or that, and has, in my experi- 
ence, next to nothing to do with the way of the wind ; 
and all this makes it quite impossible to reduce the 
possibilities of his onslaught to a mathematical calcu- 
lation beforehand. Another moment and the huge 
animal was rushing straight at my poor bit of thorn 
bush, a mere broken reed of a shelter. What was I to 
do ? Anger the brute with a useless frontal shot, or 
fly on the wings of terror ? The wings of terror had 
it. I abandoned my untenable position, and gained 
another very little better. I let the rhino have the 
right barrel just as I installed myself, and looked for 
Cecily to finish the affair. She was doing a scientific 
stalk on the flank. 
The rhino was now spinning about and knocking 
up the dust in clouds. I played Brer Rabbit and “ lay 
low.” I saw Cecily expose herself to the full view of 
the wounded animal, and her 12-bore spoke. We were 
spared another charge, thank goodness ; and as the 
dust subsided I saw the rhino ambling quickly towards 
the thick cover, blood pouring from its shoulder. We 
followed, discreetly, I assure you, as far as I’m con- 
cerned, on the blood trail until we reached the fringe 
