Adventure Magazine Cover — page 150: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

714 any of the others, and, kneeling for careful aim, I fired. Once more, for some reason my aim was bad. The bull lifted his trunk in astonishment, evidently hit but not much hurt. Then he swung around and came rushing toward us, an impressive spectacle, the biggest animal of the bush in rage. There was something fine about his onrush, but it evidently was not to the liking of the Dutchman, for he flung my .500 express rifle to the ground—a proceeding which annoyed me greatly—and took to his heels. The charge of the bull straight toward me was so unexpected that I had no time for fur- ther shooting. The raging beast towered above me, his trunk raised like a huge club, his driving tusks and small eyes, which seemed to blaze with fury, making a picture of violent death which is still vivid in my memory. In desperation I threw myself to one side and to the ground Then I began to crawl. So heavy was the grass that rapid movement was impossible, and after forcing myself along for a few yards on my hands and knees, [ lay still, hardly breathing. Thrashing about, tramp- ling the grass, waving his trunk and bellow- ing loudly, the bull came so close that I could have hit his big legs with a stick. I felt that this was my last hunt—a step or two in my direction would have brought his feet upon my body, and I knew that if he should scent me it would be the end. But miracles, I am glad to be able to say, sometimes happen. The wind favored me and I was concealed completely in the grass. With a movement as sudden as his onrush, the bull swung around and went crashing back toward the herd. Rising, I pushed my way back to where I had been forced to drop my rifle in my flight on hands and knees and, aiming quickly, took a shot at the retreat- ing beast, hoping that this would cause him to swing again so that I could hit him in the head. The bullet struck him in the flank, but only served to hasten him on his way. I now sat down to get my breath and to wipe the perspiration from my fevered brow, and in a few moments I saw the round face of the Dutchman peering at me cautiously through the grass. Needing a vent for my wrought-up feelings, I promptly poured a hot volley of words into my companion for casting away my cherished rifle and taking to his heels. To tell the truth, however, I did not blame him much. He explained, half humorously, that he had not been able Adventure to control the motions of his legs, and said that he did not believe he could have faced the charge of that elephant for a thousand pounds. “The big bull come so quick!” he exclaimed. But the flush of the hunt was now upon him and, with protestations that the next time he would try to stand his ground, he readily agreed to follow the herd with me. So we started off again and after about a mile of hard going through the thick under- growth once more saw the elephant mob; the animals were grazing on a long slope just above us. A short distance to our right was a mass of tangled bushes, which I knew marked a swamp. We stole up slowly and quietly to get within easy gunshot of our quarry, but they must have got our wind, for sud- denly each trunk was thrown up, almost with the precision of soldiers handling arms. Then, all together, the mob stampeded and came thundering down the slope, head-on toward us, the bulls in advance as usual, and the cows hurrying along their calves by pushing and half lifting the small elephants with their tusks. Only for an instant I watched the spectacle. I knew that this stampede could not be stopped by bullets— there were too many elephants and they were charging too directly. ‘“Come on! Come on!’ I shouted to the Dutchman. ‘“ We'll have to run for it. Follow me!”’ I made for the swamp, with my friend —clutching the rifle desperately this time— bringing up the rear in excellent form. Once he stumbled and I thought for an instant that our race was finished, but he recovered himself somehow and we waded on. The grass being only about up to our armpits. we could see all too vividly the advancing mob. What was more important, the ele- phants could see us, and the bulls in front had their trunks suspended for blows that would knock us many feet if we could not reach the refuge of the swamp before the beasts reached us. I was beginning to despair of this. We had struck a rise in the ground which made our progress slower. With the tangled grass about our feet it was like a flight in a night- mare, when one tries to run and can not, but in a moment the ground sloped down again and we made more speed. The bel- lowings of the elephants had become a roar when we finally reached the marsh, plunged COMMICMOOCKKS. GO