บทที่ บทที่ 4 · AN ELEPHANT HUNT

er from the time he takes to the trade

is between four and five years. So you see I have lived through about

seven generations of my class, and I should think that my time cannot

be far off, anyway. Now, if anything were to happen to me in the

ordinary course of business, by the time my debts are paid there would

be nothing left to support my son Harry whilst he was getting in the

way of earning a living, whereas now he will be set up for five years.

There is the whole affair in a nutshell.”

“Mr. Quatermain,” said Sir Henry, who had been giving me his most

serious attention, “your motives for undertaking an enterprise which

you believe can only end in disaster reflect a great deal of credit on

you. Whether or not you are right, of course time and the event alone

can show. But whether you are right or wrong, I may as well tell you at

once that I am going through with it to the end, sweet or bitter. If we

are to be knocked on the head, all I have to say is, that I hope we get

a little shooting first, eh, Good?”

“Yes, yes,” put in the captain. “We have all three of us been

accustomed to face danger, and to hold our lives in our hands in

various ways, so it is no good turning back now. And now I vote we go

down to the saloon and take an observation just for luck, you know.”

And we did—through the bottom of a tumbler.

Next day we went ashore, and I put up Sir Henry and Captain Good at the

little shanty I have built on the Berea, and which I call my home.

There are only three rooms and a kitchen in it, and it is constructed

of green brick with a galvanised iron roof, but there is a good garden

with the best loquot trees in it that I know, and some nice young

mangoes, of which I hope great things. The curator of the botanical

gardens gave them to me. It is looked after by an old hunter of mine

named Jack, whose thigh was so badly broken by a buffalo cow in

Sikukunis country that he will never hunt again. But he can potter

about and garden, being a Griqua by birth. You will never persuade a

Zulu to take much interest in gardening. It is a peaceful art, and

peaceful arts are not in his line.

Sir Henry and Good slept in a tent pitched in my little grove of orange

trees at the end of the garden, for there was no room for them in the

house, and what with the smell of the bloom, and the sight of the green

and golden fruit—in Durban you will see all three on the tree

together—I daresay it is a pleasant place enough, for we have few

mosquitos here on the Berea, unless there happens to come an unusually

heavy rain.

Well, to get on—for if I do not, Harry, you will be tired of my story

before ever we fetch up at Suliman’s Mountains—having once made up my

mind to go I set about making the necessary preparations. First I

secured the deed from Sir Henry, providing for you, my boy, in case of

accidents. There was some difficulty about its legal execution, as Sir

Henry was a stranger here, and the property to be charged is over the

water; but it was ultimately got over with the help of a lawyer, who

charged £20 for the job—a price that I thought outrageous. Then I

pocketed my cheque for £500.

Having paid this tribute to my bump of caution, I purchased a wagon and

a span of oxen on Sir Henry’s behalf, and beauties they were. It was a

twenty-two-foot wagon with iron axles, very strong, very light, and

built throughout of stink wood; not quite a new one, having been to the

Diamond Fields and back, but, in my opinion, all the better for that,

for I could see that the wood was well seasoned. If anything is going

to give in a wagon, or if there is green wood in it, it will show out

on the first trip. This particular vehicle was what we call a

“half-tented” wagon, that is to say, only covered in over the after

twelve feet, leaving all the front part free for the necessaries we had

to carry with us. In this after part were a hide “cartle,” or bed, on

which two people could sleep, also racks for rifles, and many other

little conveniences. I gave £125 for it, and think that it was cheap at

the price.

Then I bought a beautiful team of twenty Zulu oxen, which I had kept my

eye on for a year or two. Sixteen oxen is the usual number for a team,

but I took four extra to allow for casualties. These Zulu cattle are

small and light, not more than half the size of the Africander oxen,

which are generally used for transport purposes; but they will live

where the Africanders would starve, and with a moderate load can make

five miles a day better going, being quicker and not so liable to

become footsore. What is more, this lot were thoroughly “salted,” that

is, they had worked all over South Africa, and so had become proof,

comparatively speaking, against red water, which so frequently destroys

whole teams of oxen when they get on to strange “veldt” or grass

country. As for “lung sick,” which is a dreadful form of pneumonia,

very prevalent in this country, they had all been inoculated against

it. This is done by cutting a slit in the tail of an ox, and binding in

a piece of the diseased lung of an animal which has died of the

sickness. The result is that the ox sickens, takes the disease in a

mild form, which causes its tail to drop off, as a rule about a foot

from the root, and becomes proof against future attacks. It seems cruel

to rob the animal of his tail, especially in a country where there are

so many flies, but it is better to sacrifice the tail and keep the ox

than to lose both tail and ox, for a tail without an ox is not much

good, except to dust with. Still it does look odd to trek along behind

twenty stumps, where there ought to be tails. It seems as though Nature

made a trifling mistake, and stuck the stern ornaments of a lot of

prize bull-dogs on to the rumps of the oxen.

Next came the question of provisioning and medicines, one which

required the most careful consideration, for what we had to do was to

avoid lumbering the wagon, and yet to take everything absolutely

necessary. Fortunately, it turned out that Good is a bit of a doctor,

having at some point in his previous career managed to pass through a

course of medical and surgical instruction, which he has more or less

kept up. He is not, of course, qualified, but he knows more about it

than many a man who can write M.D. after his name, as we found out

afterwards, and he had a splendid travelling medicine chest and a set

of instruments. Whilst we were at Durban he cut off a Kafir’s big toe

in a way which it was a pleasure to see. But he was quite nonplussed

when the Kafir, who had sat stolidly watching the operation, asked him

to put on another, saying that a “white one” would do at a pinch.

There remained, when these questions were satisfactorily settled, two

further important points for consideration, namely, that of arms and

that of servants. As to the arms I cannot do better than put down a

list of those which we finally decided on from among the ample store

that Sir Henry had brought with him from England, and those which I

owned. I copy it from my pocket-book, where I made the entry at the

time.

“Three heavy breech-loading double-eight elephant guns, weighing about

fifteen pounds each, to carry a charge of eleven drachms of black

powder.” Two of these were by a well-known London firm, most excellent

makers, but I do not know by whom mine, which is not so highly

finished, was made. I have used it on several trips, and shot a good

many elephants with it, and it has always proved a most superior

weapon, thoroughly to be relied on.

“Three double-500 Expresses, constructed to stand a charge of six

drachms,” sweet weapons, and admirable for medium-sized game, such as

eland or sable antelope, or for men, especially in an open country and

with the semi-hollow bullet.

“One double No. 12 central-fire Keeper’s shot-gun, full choke both

barrels.” This gun proved of the greatest service to us afterwards in

shooting game for the pot.

“Three Winchester repeating rifles (not carbines), spare guns.

“Three single-action Colt’s revolvers, with the heavier, or American

pattern of cartridge.”

This was our total armament, and doubtless the reader will observe that

the weapons of each class were of the same make and calibre, so that

the cartridges were interchangeable, a very important point. I make no

apology for detailing it at length, as every experienced hunter will

know how vital a proper supply of guns and ammunition is to the success

of an expedition.

Now as to the men who were to go with us. After much consultation we

decided that their number should be limited to five, namely, a driver,

a leader, and three servants.

The driver and leader I found without much difficulty, two Zulus, named

respectively Goza and Tom; but to get the servants proved a more

difficult matter. It was necessary that they should be thoroughly

trustworthy and brave men, as in a business of this sort our lives

might depend upon their conduct. At last I secured two, one a Hottentot

named Ventvögel, or “windbird,” and one a little Zulu named Khiva, who

had the merit of speaking English perfectly. Ventvögel I had known

before; he was one of the most perfect “spoorers,” that is, game

trackers, I ever had to do with, and tough as whipcord. He never seemed

to tire. But he had one failing, so common with his race, drink. Put

him within reach of a bottle of gin and you could not trust him.

However, as we were going beyond the region of grog-shops this little

weakness of his did not so much matter.

Having secured these two men I looked in vain for a third to suit my

purpose, so we determined to start without one, trusting to luck to

find a suitable man on our way up country. But, as it happened, on the

evening before the day we had fixed for our departure the Zulu Khiva

informed me that a Kafir was waiting to see me. Accordingly, when we

had done dinner, for we were at table at the time, I told Khiva to

bring him in. Presently a tall, handsome-looking man, somewhere about

thirty years of age, and very light-coloured for a Zulu, entered, and

lifting his knob-stick by way of salute, squatted himself down in the

corner on his haunches, and sat silent. I did not take any notice of

him for a while, for it is a great mistake to do so. If you rush into

conversation at once, a Zulu is apt to think you a person of little

dignity or consequence. I observed, however, that he was a “Keshla” or

ringed man; that is, he wore on his head the black ring, made of a

species of gum polished with fat and worked up in the hair, which is

usually assumed by Zulus on attaining a certain age or dignity. Also it

struck me that his face was familiar to me.

“Well,” I said at last, “What is your name?”

“Umbopa,” answered the man in a slow, deep voice.

“I have seen your face before.”

“Yes; the Inkoosi, the chief, my father, saw my face at the place of

the Little Hand”—that is, Isandhlwana—“on the day before the battle.”

Then I remembered. I was one of Lord Chelmsford’s guides in that

unlucky Zulu War, and had the good fortune to leave the camp in charge

of some wagons on the day before the battle. While I was waiting for

the cattle to be inspanned I fell into conversation with this man, who

held some small command among the native auxiliaries, and he had

expressed to me his doubts as to the safety of the camp. At the time I

told him to hold his tongue, and leave such matters to wiser heads; but

afterwards I thought of his words.

“I remember,” I said; “what is it you want?”

“It is this, ‘Macumazahn.’” That is my Kafir name, and means the man

who gets up in the middle of the night, or, in vulgar English, he who

keeps his eyes open. “I hear that you go on a great expedition far into

the North with the white chiefs from over the water. Is it a true

word?”

“It is.”

“I hear that you go even to the Lukanga River, a moon’s journey beyond

the Manica country. Is this so also, ‘Macumazahn?’”

“Why do you ask whither we go? What is it to you?” I answered

suspiciously, for the objects of our journey had been kept a dead

secret.

“It is this, O white men, that if indeed you travel so far I would

travel with you.”

There was a certain assumption of dignity in the man’s mode of speech,

and especially in his use of the words “O white men,” instead of “O

Inkosis,” or chiefs, which struck me.

“You forget yourself a little,” I said. “Your words run out unawares.

That is not the way to speak. What is your name, and where is your

kraal? Tell us, that we may know with whom we have to deal.”

“My name is Umbopa. I am of the Zulu people, yet not of them. The house

of my tribe is in the far North; it was left behind when the Zulus came

down here a ‘thousand years ago,’ long before Chaka reigned in

Zululand. I have no kraal. I have wandered for many years. I came from

the North as a child to Zululand. I was Cetewayo’s man in the

Nkomabakosi Regiment, serving there under the great Captain,

Umslopogaasi of the Axe,[5] who taught my hands to fight. Afterwards I

ran away from Zululand and came to Natal because I wanted to see the

white man’s ways. Next I fought against Cetewayo in the war. Since then

I have been working in Natal. Now I am tired, and would go North again.

Here is not my place. I want no money, but I am a brave man, and am

worth my place and meat. I have spoken.”

[5] For the history of Umslopogaasi and his Axe, the reader is

referred to the books called “Allan Quatermain” and “Nada the

Lily.”—_Editor_.

I was rather puzzled by this man and his way of speech. It was evident

to me from his manner that in the main he was telling the truth, but

somehow he seemed different from the ordinary run of Zulus, and I

rather mistrusted his offer to come without pay. Being in a difficulty,

I translated his words to Sir Henry and Good, and asked them their

opinion.

Sir Henry told me to ask him to stand up. Umbopa did so, at the same

time slipping off the long military great coat which he wore, and

revealing himself naked except for the moocha round his centre and a

necklace of lions’ claws. Certainly he was a magnificent-looking man; I

never saw a finer native. Standing about six foot three high he was

broad in proportion, and very shapely. In that light, too, his skin

looked scarcely more than dark, except here and there where deep black

scars marked old assegai wounds. Sir Henry walked up to him and looked

into his proud, handsome face.

“They make a good pair, don’t they?” said Good; “one as big as the

other.”

“I like your looks, Mr. Umbopa, and I will take you as my servant,”

said Sir Henry in English.

Umbopa evidently understood him, for he answered in Zulu, “It is well”;

and then added, with a glance at the white man’s great stature and

breadth, “We are men, thou and I.”

CHAPTER 4. AN ELEPHANT HUNT

Now I do not propose to narrate at full length all the incidents of our

long travel up to Sitanda’s Kraal, near the junction of the Lukanga and

Kalukwe Rivers. It was a journey of more than a thousand miles from

Durban, the last three hundred or so of which we had to make on foot,

owing to the frequent presence of the dreadful “tsetse” fly, whose bite

is fatal to all animals except donkeys and men.

We left Durban at the end of January, and it was in the second week of

May that we camped near Sitanda’s Kraal. Our adventures on the way were

many and various, but as they are of the sort which befall every

African hunter—with one exception to be presently detailed—I shall not

set them down here, lest I should render this history too wearisome.

At Inyati, the outlying trading station in the Matabele country, of

which Lobengula (a great and cruel scoundrel) is king, with many

regrets we parted from our comfortable wagon. Only twelve oxen remained

to us out of the beautiful span of twenty which I had bought at Durban.

One we lost from the bite of a cobra, three had perished from “poverty”

and the want of water, one strayed, and the other three died from

eating the poisonous herb called “tulip.” Five more sickened from this

cause, but we managed to cure them with doses of an infusion made by

boiling down the tulip leaves. If administered in time this is a very

effective antidote.

The wagon and the oxen we left in the immediate charge of Goza and Tom,

our driver and leader, both trustworthy boys, requesting a worthy

Scotch missionary who lived in this distant place to keep an eye on

them. Then, accompanied by Umbopa, Khiva, Ventvögel, and half a dozen

bearers whom we hired on the spot, we started off on foot upon our wild

quest. I remember we were all a little silent on the occasion of this

departure, and I think that each of us was wondering if we should ever

see our wagon again; for my part I never expected to do so. For a while

we tramped on in silence, till Umbopa, who was marching in front, broke

into a Zulu chant about how some brave men, tired of life and the

tameness of things, started off into a vast wilderness to find new

things or die, and how, lo and behold! when they had travelled far into

the wilderness they found that it was not a wilderness at all, but a

beautiful place full of young wives and fat cattle, of game to hunt and

enemies to kill.

Then we all laughed and took it for a good omen. Umbopa was a cheerful

savage, in a dignified sort of way, when he was not suffering from one

of his fits of brooding, and he had a wonderful knack of keeping up our

spirits. We all grew very fond of him.

And now for the one adventure to which I am going to treat myself, for

I do dearly love a hunting yarn.

About a fortnight’s march from Inyati we came across a peculiarly

beautiful bit of well-watered woodland country. The kloofs in the hills

were covered with dense bush, “idoro” bush as the natives call it, and

in some places, with the “wacht-een-beche,” or “wait-a-little thorn,”

and there were great quantities of the lovely “machabell” tree, laden

with refreshing yellow fruit having enormous stones. This tree is the

elephant’s favourite food, and there were not wanting signs that the

great brutes had been about, for not only was their spoor frequent, but

in many places the trees were broken down and even uprooted. The

elephant is a destructive feeder.

One evening, after a long day’s march, we came to a spot of great

loveliness. At the foot of a bush-clad hill lay a dry river-bed, in

which, however, were to be found pools of crystal water all trodden

round with the hoof-prints of game. Facing this hill was a park-like

plain, where grew clumps of flat-topped mimosa, varied with occasional

glossy-leaved machabells, and all round stretched the sea of pathless,

silent bush.

As we emerged into this river-bed path suddenly we started a troop of

tall giraffes, who galloped, or rather sailed off, in their strange

gait, their tails screwed up over their backs, and their hoofs rattling

like castanets. They were about three hundred yards from us, and

therefore practically out of shot, but Good, who was walking ahead, and

who had an express loaded with solid ball in his hand, could not resist

temptation. Lifting his gun, he let drive at the last, a young cow. By

some extraordinary chance the ball struck it full on the back of the

neck, shattering the spinal column, and that giraffe went rolling head

over heels just like a rabbit. I never saw a more curious thing.

“Curse it!” said Good—for I am sorry to say he had a habit of using

strong language when excited—contracted, no doubt, in the course of his

nautical career; “curse it! I’ve killed him.”

“_Ou_, Bougwan,” ejaculated the Kafirs; “_ou! ou!_”

They called Good “Bougwan,” or Glass Eye, because of his eye-glass.

“Oh, ‘Bougwan!’” re-echoed Sir Henry and I, and from that day Good’s

reputation as a marvellous shot was established, at any rate among the

Kafirs. Really he was a bad one, but whenever he missed we overlooked

it for the sake of that giraffe.

Having set some of the “boys” to cut off the best of the giraffe’s

meat, we went to work to build a “scherm” near one of the pools and

about a hundred yards to its right. This is done by cutting a quantity

of thorn bushes and piling them in the shape of a circular hedge. Then

the space enclosed is smoothed, and dry tambouki grass, if obtainable,

is made into a bed in the centre, and a fire or fires lighted.

By the time the “scherm” was finished the moon peeped up, and our

dinners of giraffe steaks and roasted marrow-bones were ready. How we

enjoyed those marrow-bones, though it was rather a job to crack them! I

know of no greater luxury than giraffe marrow, unless it is elephant’s

heart, and we had that on the morrow. We ate our simple meal by the

light of the moon, pausing at times to thank Good for his wonderful

shot; then we began to smoke and yarn, and a curious picture we must

have made squatting there round the fire. I, with my short grizzled

hair sticking up straight, and Sir Henry with his yellow locks, which

were getting rather long, were rather a contrast, especially as I am

thin, and short, and dark, weighing only nine stone and a half, and Sir

Henry is tall, and broad, and fair, and weighs fifteen. But perhaps the

most curious-looking of the three, taking all the circumstances of the

case into consideration, was Captain John Good, R.N. There he sat upon

a leather bag, looking just as though he had come in from a comfortable

day’s shooting in a civilised country, absolutely clean, tidy, and well

dressed. He wore a shooting suit of brown tweed, with a hat to match,

and neat gaiters. As usual, he was beautifully shaved, his eye-glass

and his false teeth appeared to be in perfect order, and altogether he

looked the neatest man I ever had to do with in the wilderness. He even

sported a collar, of which he had a supply, made of white gutta-percha.

“You see, they weigh so little,” he said to me innocently, when I

expressed my astonishment at the fact; “and I always like to turn out

like a gentleman.” Ah! if he could have foreseen the future and the

raiment prepared for him.

Well, there we three sat yarning away in the beautiful moonlight, and

watching the Kafirs a few yards off sucking their intoxicating “daccha”

from a pipe of which the mouthpiece was made of the horn of an eland,

till one by one they rolled themselves up in their blankets and went to

sleep by the fire, that is, all except Umbopa, who was a little apart,

his chin resting on his hand, and thinking deeply. I noticed that he

never mixed much with the other Kafirs.

Presently, from the depths of the bush behind us, came a loud “_woof_,

_woof_!” “That’s a lion,” said I, and we all started up to listen.

Hardly had we done so, when from the pool, about a hundred yards off,

we heard the strident trumpeting of an elephant. “_Unkungunklovo_!

_Indlovu_!” “Elephant! Elephant!” whispered the Kafirs, and a few

minutes afterwards we saw a succession of vast shadowy forms moving

slowly from the direction of the water towards the bush.

Up jumped Good, burning for slaughter, and thinking, perhaps, that it

was as easy to kill elephant as he had found it to shoot giraffe, but I

caught him by the arm and pulled him down.

“It’s no good,” I whispered, “let them go.”

“It seems that we are in a paradise of game. I vote we stop here a day

or two, and have a go at them,” said Sir Henry, presently.

I was rather surprised, for hitherto Sir Henry had always been for

pushing forward as fast as possible, more especially since we

ascertained at Inyati that about two years ago an Englishman of the

name of Neville _had_ sold his wagon there, and gone on up country. But

I suppose his hunter instincts got the better of him for a while.

Good jumped at the idea, for he was longing to have a shot at those

elephants; and so, to speak the truth, did I, for it went against my

conscience to let such a herd as that escape without a pull at them.

“All right, my hearties,” said I. “I think we want a little recreation.

And now let’s turn in, for we ought to be off by dawn, and then perhaps

we may catch them feeding before they move on.”

The others agreed, and we proceeded to make our preparations. Good took

off his clothes, shook them, put his eye-glass and his false teeth into

his trousers pocket, and folding each article neatly, placed it out of

the dew under a corner of his mackintosh sheet. Sir Henry and I

contented ourselves with rougher arrangements, and soon were curled up

in our blankets, and dropping off into the dreamless sleep that rewards

the traveller.

Going, going, go—What was that?

Suddenly, from the direction of the water came sounds of violent

scuffling, and next instant there broke upon our ears a succession of

the most awful roars. There was no mistaking their origin; only a lion

could make such a noise as that. We all jumped up and looked towards

the water, in the direction of which we saw a confused mass, yellow and

black in colour, staggering and struggling towards us. We seized our

rifles, and slipping on our veldtschoons, that is shoes made of

untanned hide, ran out of the scherm. By this time the mass had fallen,

and was rolling over and over on the ground, and when we reached the

spot it struggled no longer, but lay quite still.

Now we saw what it was. On the grass there lay a sable antelope

bull—the most beautiful of all the African antelopes—quite dead, and

transfixed by its great curved horns was a magnificent black-maned

lion, also dead. Evidently what had happened was this: The sable

antelope had come down to drink at the pool where the lion—no doubt the

same which we had heard—was lying in wait. While the antelope drank,

the lion had sprung upon him, only to be received upon the sharp curved

horns and transfixed. Once before I saw a similar thing happen. Then

the lion, unable to free himself, had torn and bitten at the back and

neck of the bull, which, maddened with fear and pain, had rushed on

until it dropped dead.

As soon as we had examined the beasts sufficiently we called the

Kafirs, and between us managed to drag their carcases up to the scherm.

After that we went in and lay down, to wake no more till dawn.

With the first light we were up and making ready for the fray. We took

with us the three eight-bore rifles, a good supply of ammunition, and

our large water-bottles, filled with weak cold tea, which I have always

found the best stuff to shoot on. After swallowing a little breakfast

we started, Umbopa, Khiva, and Ventvögel accompanying us. The other

Kafirs we left with instructions to skin the lion and the sable

antelope, and to cut up the latter.

We had no difficulty in finding the broad elephant trail, which

Ventvögel, after examination, pronounced to have been made by between

twenty and thirty elephants, most of them full-grown bulls. But the

herd had moved on some way during the night, and it was nine o’clock,

and already very hot, before, by the broken trees, bruised leaves and

bark, and smoking droppings, we knew that we could not be far from

them.

Presently we caught sight of the herd, which numbered, as Ventvögel had

said, between twenty and thirty, standing in a hollow, having finished

their morning meal, and flapping their great ears. It was a splendid

sight, for they were only about two hundred yards from us. Taking a

handful of dry grass, I threw it into the air to see how the wind was;

for if once they winded us I knew they would be off before we could get

a shot. Finding that, if anything, it blew from the elephants to us, we

crept on stealthily, and thanks to the cover managed to get within

forty yards or so of the great brutes. Just in front of us, and

broadside on, stood three splendid bulls, one of them with enormous

tusks. I whispered to the others that I would take the middle one; Sir

Henry covering the elephant to the left, and Good the bull with the big

tusks.

“Now,” I whispered.

Boom! boom! boom! went the three heavy rifles, and down came Sir

Henry’s elephant dead as a hammer, shot right through the heart. Mine

fell on to its knees and I thought that he was going to die, but in

another moment he was up and off, tearing along straight past me. As he

went I gave him the second barrel in the ribs, and this brought him

down in good earnest. Hastily slipping in two fresh cartridges I ran

close up to him, and a ball through the brain put an end to the poor

brute’s struggles. Then I turned to see how Good had fared with the big

bull, which I had heard screaming with rage and pain as I gave mine its

quietus. On reaching the captain I found him in a great state of

excitement. It appeared that on receiving the bullet the bull had

turned and come straight for his assailant, who had barely time to get

out of his way, and then charged on blindly past him, in the direction

of our encampment. Meanwhile the herd had crashed off in wild alarm in

the other direction.

For awhile we debated whether to go after the wounded bull or to follow

the herd, and finally deciding for the latter alternative, departed,

thinking that we had seen the last of those big tusks. I have often

wished since that we had. It was easy work to follow the elephants, for

they had left a trail like a carriage road behind them, crushing down

the thick bush in their furious flight as though it were tambouki

grass.

But to come up with them was another matter, and we had struggled on

under the broiling sun for over two hours before we found them. With

the exception of one bull, they were standing together, and I could

see, from their unquiet way and the manner in which they kept lifting

their trunks to test the air, that they were on the look-out for

mischief. The solitary bull stood fifty yards or so to this side of the

herd, over which he was evidently keeping sentry, and about sixty yards

from us. Thinking that he would see or wind us, and that it would

probably start them off again if we tried to get nearer, especially as

the ground was rather open, we all aimed at this bull, and at my

whispered word, we fired. The three shots took effect, and down he went

dead. Again the herd started, but unfortunately for them about a

hundred yards further on was a nullah, or dried-out water track, with

steep banks, a place very much resembling the one where the Prince

Imperial was killed in Zululand. Into this the elephants plunged, and

when we reached the edge we found them struggling in wild confusion to

get up the other bank, filling the air with their screams, and

trumpeting as they pushed one another aside in their selfish panic,

just like so many human beings. Now was our opportunity, and firing

away as quickly as we could load, we killed five of the poor beasts,

and no doubt should have bagged the whole herd, had they not suddenly

given up their attempts to climb the bank and rushed headlong down the

nullah. We were too tired to follow them, and perhaps also a little

sick of slaughter, eight elephants being a pretty good bag for one day.

So after we were rested a little, and the Kafirs had cut out the hearts

of two of the dead elephants for supper, we started homewards, very

well pleased with our day’s work, having made up our minds to send the

bearers on the morrow to chop away the tusks.

Shortly after we re-passed the spot where Good had wounded the

patriarchal bull we came across a herd of eland, but did not shoot at

them, as we had plenty of meat. They trotted past us, and then stopped

behind a little patch of bush about a hundred yards away, wheeling

round to look at us. As Good was anxious to get a near view of them,

never having seen an eland close, he handed his rifle to Umbopa, and,

followed by Khiva, strolled up to the patch of bush. We sat down and

waited for him, not sorry of the excuse for a little rest.

The sun was just going down in its reddest glory, and Sir Henry and I

were admiring the lovely scene, when suddenly we heard an elephant

scream, and saw its huge and rushing form with uplifted trunk and tail

silhouetted against the great fiery globe of the sun. Next second we

saw something else, and that was Good and Khiva tearing back towards us

with the wounded bull—for it was he—charging after them. For a moment

we did not dare to fire—though at that distance it would have been of

little use if we had done so—for fear of hitting one of them, and the

next a dreadful thing happened—Good fell a victim to his passion for

civilised dress. Had he consented to discard his trousers and gaiters

like the rest of us, and to hunt in a flannel shirt and a pair of

veldt-schoons, it would have been all right. But as it was, his

trousers cumbered him in that desperate race, and presently, when he

was about sixty yards from us, his boot, polished by the dry grass,

slipped, and down he went on his face right in front of the elephant.

We gave a gasp, for we knew that he must die, and ran as hard as we

could towards him. In three seconds it had ended, but not as we

thought. Khiva, the Zulu boy, saw his master fall, and brave lad as he

was, turned and flung his assegai straight into the elephant’s face. It

stuck in his trunk.

With a scream of pain, the brute seized the poor Zulu, hurled him to

the earth, and placing one huge foot on to his body about the middle,

twined its trunk round his upper part and _tore him in two_.

We rushed up mad with horror, and fired again and again, till presently

the elephant fell upon the fragments of the Zulu.

As for Good, he rose and wrung his hands over the brave man who had

given his life to save him, and, though I am an old hand, I felt a lump

grow in my throat. Umbopa stood contemplating the huge dead elephant

and the mangled remains of poor Khiva.

“Ah, well,” he said presently, “he is dead, but he died like a man!”