d bull still kneeling some
five-and-twenty paces from me. Then I remembered. Slowly I raised
myself, and was instantly taken with a violent sickness, the result
of over-exertion, after which I very nearly fainted a second time.
Presently I grew better, and considered the position. Two of the
elephants were, as I knew, dead; but how about No. 3? There he knelt in
majesty in the lonely moonlight. The question was, was he resting, or
dead? I rose on my hands and knees, loaded my rifle, and painfully crept
a few paces nearer. I could see his eye now, for the moonlight fell full
upon it--it was open, and rather prominent. I crouched and watched; the
eyelid did not move, nor did the great brown body, or the trunk, or the
ear, or the tail--nothing moved. Then I knew that he must be dead.

"I crept up to him, still keeping the rifle well forward, and gave him a
thump, reflecting as I did so how very near I had been to being thumped
instead of thumping. He never stirred; certainly he was dead, though to
this day I do not know if it was my random shot that killed him, or
if he died from concussion of the brain consequent upon the tremendous
shock of his contact with the tree. Anyhow, there he was. Cold and
beautiful he lay, or rather knelt, as the poet nearly puts it. Indeed, I
do not think that I have ever seen a sight more imposing in its way than
that of the mighty beast crouched in majestic death, and shone upon by
the lonely moon.

"While I stood admiring the scene, and heartily congratulating myself
upon my escape, once more I began to feel sick. Accordingly, without
waiting to examine the other two bulls, I staggered back to the camp,
which in due course I reached in safety. Everybody in it was asleep. I
did not wake them, but having swallowed a mouthful of brandy I threw
off my coat and shoes, rolled myself up in a blanket, and was soon fast
asleep.

"When I woke it was already light, and at first I thought that, like
Joseph, I had dreamed a dream. At that moment, however, I turned my
head, and quickly knew that it was no dream, for my neck and face were
so stiff from the blow of the butt-end of the rifle that it was agony
to move them. I collapsed for a minute or two. Gobo and another man,
wrapped up like a couple of monks in their blankets, thinking that I was
still asleep, were crouched over a little fire they had made, for the
morning was damp and chilly, and holding sweet converse.

"Gobo said that he was getting