XIII 
STIRRING TIMES AT LECUNDI 
129 
aside. This bullet most indubitably saved my life, 
thanks to my trusty tracker, Simba, who, seeing my 
predicament, and being only a few yards behind, 
had promptly fired my 1075 rifle in the elephant’s 
face. Springing back at once, I hastily snatched 
the rifle from my man’s grasp and rained the three 
remaining bullets into the retreating elephant, the 
denseness of the bush, however, preventing my 
placing a vital shot. He at once sought cover in 
almost impenetrable elephant grass, fully twelve to 
seventeen feet in height, clearing a narrow path from 
which it was impossible for a man to diverge a foot, 
owing to the intensely compact growth which rose as 
impervious as a solid wall on either side. Knowing 
that it would be futile to follow him up in this awful 
jungle, I ran to the right in the hope of rounding him 
off, and made for a hill comparatively free from 
vegetation about two hundred yards further on, cal¬ 
culating that, if the animal had not already collapsed 
among the long grass, I should probably get 
home a decisive shot from that eminence. My con¬ 
jecture proved correct, for on reaching the summit 
of the hill I could see him dragging himself along 
among the giant grass—evidently in extremis, so 
handing my heavy rifle to Simba and grasping my 
light rifle, I dropped the animal with a bullet through 
the heart. This was rather a fortunate shot, for, the 
length and denseness of the grass only allowing me 
K 
