For a while we debated whether to go after the wounded bull or follow the herd,and finally decided for the latter alternative,and 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 a broiling sun for over two hours before we found them.They were,with the exception of one bull,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 lookout for mischief.The solitary bull stood fifty yards or so 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 all 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,fired.All three shots took effect,and down he went,dead.Again the herd started on,but,unfortunately for them,about a hundred yards farther on was a nullah,or dried water-track,with steep banks,a place very much resembling the one the Prince Imperial was killed in 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,and 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 quick 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 had rested a little and the Kaffirs had cut out the hearts of two of the dead elephants for supper,we started homeward,very well pleased with ourselves,having made up our minds to send the bearers on the morrow to chop out the tusks.
Shortly after we had 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 already plenty of meat.They trotted past us,and then stopped behind a little patch of bush about a hundred yards away and wheeled 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 charging form with uplifted trunk and tail silhouetted against the great red 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 it would have been little use if we had at that distance -for fear of hitting one of them,and the next a dreadful thing happened:Good fell a victim to his passion for civilized dress.Had he consented to discard his trousers and gaiters as we had,and hunt in a flannel shirt and a pair of veldtschoons,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 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,had seen his master fall,and,brave lad that he was,had 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 his huge foot on to his body about the middle,twined his trunk round his upper part and tore him in two .
We rushed up,mad with horror,and fired again and again,and presently the elephant fell upon the fragments of the Zulu.
As for Good,he got up and wrung his hands over the brave man who had given his life to save him;and myself,though an old hand,I felt a lump in my throat.Umbopa stood and contemplated 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."
