Just before noon I went out alone with the 20-bore shot-gun, with the intention of shooting guinea-fowl for the pot. I wore rubber shoes, and in jumping a stream, strained my instep badly. The pain was severe, but I tried to walk it off. I got into the thick forest between our camp and M’thara, but saw no birds. Noiselessly threading my way along a narrow game-track, while on the look-out for partridges, I suddenly saw a large brown mass looming through the openings of the foliage. Only small patches of it were now and again visible, and, as I had not the least idea what it was, I cautiously crept closer in order to get a better view. It was quite stationary, and at first I thought it was a large hut, though what it was doing there I could not imagine. I cautiously approached to within ten yards, and then halted and watched. Suddenly the mass moved, a low rumbling noise was heard, and then an enormous head swung into my field of vision, flanked by vast outspread ears and a pair of magnificent tusks. There I stood gazing straight into the face of the largest bull elephant I had ever seen, with only a 20-bore shot-gun and No. 6 shot with me! After a few seconds’ suspense I regained the use of my scattered faculties, and it immediately occurred to me that this particular part of the forest was not a good place for guinea-fowl, and at once decided to look somewhere else. I am modest by nature, and deprecate ostentation; therefore I made as little noise as possible on my backward journey—at least till I was quite a quarter of a mile from the elephant. I did not wish to alarm him. I took the bearings of the place, and limped back to camp for a rifle. El Hakim immediately went back with me, but we could not find the elephant. He had evidently winded me on my first visit, and retreated into the deeper recesses of the thorn forest. On my return to Cairo, I happened to mention this encounter with the elephant to an American friend of mine. He listened with a twinkle in his eye, and remarked, “Why, if that isn’t strange! Do you know, ’most the same thing happened to me last Fall; when I was huntin’ in the Rockies with my brother. We had gone out pretty early one morning to try and shoot a few by-ids. After a smart tramp along the river-bank, through a lot of bushes, we were pulled up with a jerk, as, on coming round a tree, we spotted an old grizzly b’ar reared up on his hind legs, feedin’ on something in the bushes. As we were only loaded for by-ids, we drew back and watched him. Pretty soon ‘old grizzly’ turned around and looked us straight in the face. My brother thought it must be nearly breakfast-time, so we started for our camp on the run! As we dodged among the bush we could hear the pit-pat of the grizzly’s feet in our rear, and I tell you we ran good and hard. Presently the sound of pursuing footsteps grew fainter and fainter, and, taking a quick look round, durned if ‘old grizzly’ wasn’t runnin’ hard’s he could the other way! What?”