"I have it! I have it!" screamed the monster. In the puzzling eddies of air, that are almost always to be found in forest country, some faint whiff of Guy’s presence had reached the infuriated beast; and now, with a trumpet that shook the leafage and rang far through the woodland, the great beast came crashing through trees and bush straight for Guy’s place of concealment. Guy looked around. It was too dangerous to attempt to run now; in the thorn bush and scrub where he crouched he was too deeply involved to have any decent prospect of escape. He must stand the charge, and trust to his bullet turning the brute. Almost in the twinkling of an eye, as it seemed, the bull was within ten yards. Guy had his rifle up and his finger on the trigger. Then, before he had time to pull, came the loud report of the Paradox, twenty paces to his left. Poeskop, good fellow that he was, had come to the rescue. Struck full in the ribs, and raked through and through by the eight-bore bullet, the bull was instantly diverted from his charge upon Guy, and now turned, trumpeting yet more fiercely, for the smoke of the big bore. As he turned Guy gave him a good shot, which raked him obliquely behind the shoulder. Flesh and blood, even the flesh and blood of the mightiest land mammal in the world, was not able to stand against the three wounds which it had now received; and the bull, feeling very sick, turned away from its revenge, and sought shelter in the forest again. Poeskop crept up to his young master’s side. "Now, Baas Guy," he said, his narrow eyes gleaming with the light of battle and the fierce instincts of the savage hunter, "we shall have him. Come along!" Throughout this somewhat trying episode Guy had never once lost his head. Now he felt as cool as possible. Something told him the danger was past and the victory near. They ran on in the wake of the elephant, and presently, going more cautiously, came up with it again. The bull could go no farther. He was standing in a little clearing among some machabel trees, swaying from side to side, the blood dropping from his mouth. "He is very sick, baas," whispered Poeskop. "He will die soon." "I can’t wait," returned the lad. "I shall put him out of his misery." "Pas op!" whispered the Bushman. "You can never trust an elephant. He may charge again." But Guy was not to be gainsaid. Creeping within thirty paces of the sick monster, he took careful aim for the head shot again, between the eye and the ear, and pulled trigger. The bull knelt quietly down upon his fore-legs, his hind-legs sank under him, and there, resting in that attitude, he gave up the ghost. "He is dood, baas," cried Poeskop joyfully. "You have done well. Two good bulls for your first elephant hunt is as much as any man can desire. This bull’s teeth will weigh forty pounds apiece; the other’s are much heavier. Hark!" As he spoke there came sounds of firing in front of them, first one shot, then two others.