38 ADVENTURES OF AN ELEPHANT HUNTER ch. iii 
demanding news of the kill, and why it was that 
bwana was being borne home in a maschilla. 
‘ Liberal applications of an emulsion of whisky 
and olive oil, of fomentations, supplemented by a 
course of massage at the hands of my native 
servants, who are quite experts, soon restored me 
to my normal condition. Yet, strangely enough, 
in spite of all these measures and my excellent 
health, I was obliged to die. Some of the natives 
of the village adjoining my camp, who had 
accompanied me on the hunt, on seeing me flung 
into the tree by the elephant, felt certain that I 
had been killed, and rushing away from the scene 
of the fray as fast as their legs could carry them, 
spread the news as only natives can spread news, 
especially when it concerns the death of a white 
man. Gradually, however, the sad story of my 
demise was discountenanced, and I was slowly 
restored to life, but to compensate for the loss 
of dramatic value entailed by this resuscitation, 
two of my native boys were killed in my 
stead. 
About a month later, a Somewhat garbled account 
of the adventure appeared in the Deutsch- 
Ostafrikanische-Gazette, a translation of which 
report I append as an example of how news gets 
distorted by the fertile imagination of the gossip- 
loving native. 
