XI 
THE WHITE TRAIL 
n 3 
the hindmost with a head shot. On approaching, 
I discovered him lying on his side groaning, as 
a dying elephant does, and to put him out of 
pain placed the muzzle of my ‘318 rifle within 
a foot of his head, at the correct angle to 
reach his brain, and fired. As soon as the bullet 
struck him, his huge body was convulsed with 
spasmodic tremors and his tail stiffened—symptoms 
invariably evinced by a recumbent elephant when 
he has been shot in the brain—and I naturally 
inferred that he was dead. Moreover, I have 
finished scores of elephants off with this identical 
shot. 
My tracker, Simba, now mounted the beasts 
body to get a better view of the surrounding 
bush, while I sat for a five minutes’ ‘ breather ’ 
on the animal’s head before starting in pursuit 
of the remainder of the herd. Refreshed by the 
brief rest, we set out once more on the spoor, 
but discovering after about half-an-hour’s work, 
that the cunning beasts, in an endeavour to 
get our scent were beginning to follow the wind, 
which was variable, I decided to call a halt for 
about an hour to see if the currents of air 
would either subside or blow steadily in one 
direction. Bidding one of my boys make tea, I 
sent Simba back to cut the tail off the dead 
elephant. In about three-quarters of an hour, he 
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