Checked In Her Rush, She
Backed Toward The Dense Jungle, Throwing Her Trunk About And Trumpeting
With Rage.
Snatching the Ceylon No.
10 from one of my trusty Tokrooris
(Hassan), I ran straight at her, took a most deliberate aim at the
forehead, and once more fired. The only effect was a decisive charge;
but before I fired my last barrel Jali rushed in, and, with one blow of
his sharp sword, severed the back sinew. She was utterly helpless in the
same instant. Bravo, Jali! I had fired three beautifully correct shots
with No. 10 bullets and seven drams of powder in each charge. These were
so nearly together that they occupied a space in her forehead of about
three inches, and all had failed to kill! There could no longer be any
doubt that the forehead-shot at an African elephant could not be relied
upon, although so fatal to the Indian species. This increased the danger
tenfold, as in Ceylon I had generally made certain of an elephant by
steadily waiting until it was close upon me.
I now reloaded my rifles, and the aggageers quitted the jungle to
remount their horses, as they expected the herd had broken cover on the
other side of the jungle, in which case they intended to give chase,
and, if possible, to turn them back into the covert and drive them
toward the guns. We accordingly took our stand in the small open glade,
and I lent Florian one of my double rifles, as he was only provided with
one single-barrelled elephant gun.
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