Galloping through the green but
thornless bush, I soon came in sight of a grand bull elephant, steaming
along like a locomotive engine straight before me.
Digging in the spurs, I was soon within twenty yards of him; but the
ground was so unfavourable, being full of buffalo holes, that I could
not pass him. In about a quarter of an hour, after a careful chase over
deep ruts and gullies concealed in high grass, I arrived at a level
space, and shooting ahead, I gave him a shoulder shot with the Reilly
No. 10 rifle. I saw the wound in a good place, but the bull rushed along
all the quicker, and again we came into bad ground that made it unwise
to close. However, on the first opportunity I made a dash by him, and
fired my left-hand barrel at full gallop. He slackened his speed, but I
could not halt to reload, lest I should lose sight of him in the high
grass and bush.
Not a man was with me to hand a spare rifle. My cowardly fellows,
although light-weights and well mounted, were nowhere; the natives were
outrun, as of course was Richarn, who, not being a good rider, had
preferred to hunt on foot. In vain I shouted for the men; and I followed
the elephant with an empty rifle for about ten minutes, until he
suddenly turned round, and stood facing me in an open spot in grass
about nine or ten feet high.
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