Once again the elephant trumpeted, and broke forward with a lurch that
sent the trees crashing down around him. Jack, trembling with buckfever,
flung up his gun and let go both barrels at once. The shock sent him
over backward with a groan.

Charlie waited an instant. He knew that Amir was helping Jack up, but
those two cordite bullets had not stopped the great rogue--if, indeed,
they had hit him at all. As it proved, both bullets had merely raked
along his side. Then he charged--terribly, deadly, asking and receiving
no quarter from these puny men who dared to stand before him.

For that instant Charlie felt a wild inclination to turn and run. Then
he conquered himself and became cool as he heard the click of Jack's
rifle-breech behind him. Up went his Holland, and aiming for the
elephant's right fore-leg, he pulled trigger.

Without pausing to see the effect, he followed it instantly with the
second ball. During one brief moment it seemed that neither had taken
effect, and with feverish energy Charlie pressed home two fresh shells.
That awe-inspiring beast was a hundred and fifty yards away, and each
second seemed an hour. But, just as Jack stepped forward and fired
again, the great beast rocked and went down.

Both bullets had struck his fore-leg, shattering it. A wild thrill of
hope ran through Charlie and he leaped forward. But the rogue had
vitality beyond the ordinary, vitality and a tremendous raging strength
that carried him to his feet again. For an instant he stood, lurching
and rocking on three legs, trumpeting shrilly until the woods re-echoed,
and then the horrified Charlie saw him plunge forward, trunk thrown out.

Again Jack fired, and splinters of skin and bone flew from the rogue's
head. Charlie realized full well that his only hope lay in crippling the
terrible beast, crippling him so that he could advance no farther. A
hundred yards away now, and as he raised the big rifle slowly, mist
blurred his sight for a moment. All depended on those two last shots in
his rifle.

The mist cleared away. It seemed that the great beast was towering over
him, reaching for him with that terrible trunk. But he resisted the
temptation to fire at the head, and drew a careful bead on the left
fore-shoulder.

Charlie never remembered firing those two shots. The next thing he knew,
the rogue was standing before him, then the great head went down with a
shrill scream of pain and anger, the mighty form crumpled, an