Maiwa's Revenge; Or, The War of the Little HandHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
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Maiwa's Revenge; Or, The War of the Little Hand
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Africa -- Fiction; Hunting guides -- Fiction; Quatermain, Allan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Revenge -- Fiction
“Meanwhile the elephant began to scream with fear and fury, and,
attracted by his cries, the other two charged up. I felt for my rifle;
it was not there. Then I remembered that I had rested it on a fork of
the bough in order to fire, and doubtless there it remained. My
position was now very unpleasant. I did not dare to try and climb the
tree again, which, shaken as I was, would have been a task of some
difficulty, because the elephants would certainly see me, and Gobo, who
had clung to a bough, was still aloft with the other rifle. I could not
run because there was no shelter near. Under these circumstances I did
the only thing feasible, clambered round the trunk as softly as
possible, and keeping one eye on the elephants, whispered to Gobo to
bring down the rifle, and awaited the development of the situation. I
knew that if the elephants did not see me—which, luckily, they were too
enraged to do—they would not smell me, for I was up-wind. Gobo,
however, either did not, or, preferring the safety of the tree, would
not hear me. He said the former, but I believed the latter, for I knew
that he was not enough of a sportsman to really enjoy shooting
elephants by moonlight in the open. So there I was behind my tree,
dismayed, unarmed, but highly interested, for I was witnessing a
remarkable performance.
“When the two other bulls arrived the wounded elephant on the ground
ceased to scream, but began to make a low moaning noise, and to gently
touch the wound near his shoulder, from which the blood was literally
spouting. The other two seemed to understand; at any rate, they did
this. Kneeling down on either side, they placed their trunks and tusks
underneath him, and, aided by his own efforts, with one great lift got
him on to his feet. Then leaning against him on either side to support
him, they marched off at a walk in the direction of the village.[*] It
was a pitiful sight, and even then it made me feel a brute.
[*] The Editor would have been inclined to think that in relating this
incident Mr. Quatermain was making himself interesting at the expense
of the exact truth, did it not happen that a similar incident has come
within his knowledge.—Editor.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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