"Come on, Poeskop!" cried Guy. "They are still hard at it. We may come in for more of the fun." Threading their way through the forest, they trotted for a long half mile, and then heard, not far in front, the scream of an angry elephant. Guy was beginning to get somewhat more accustomed to the sound; yet, as he was always afterwards ready to admit, there are few things in nature more awe-inspiring than the trumpet of a wounded or infuriated elephant. They moved forward very cautiously for another few yards, and then came on the edge of more open ground. To the right they saw an elephant, manifestly a cow and wounded, shambling towards them. She was going slowly, and every now and again would stop, spread out her huge ears, and thrust out her trunk. Twice she picked up dust with her trunk, and blew it over her shoulders as if bathing herself. "She is far gone," whispered the Bushman. "We can finish her as she goes by." She was now within less than thirty yards of them, and as she came past each saluted her with a bullet. The cow staggered, came on, thought better of it, and then turned to make off. As she turned, Tom Blakeney ran out into the open, fifty yards away, and gave her yet another bullet. He stood and reloaded quickly, ready to turn and run for the shelter of the woodland if she should charge again. But the big cow was finished. She staggered as Tom’s Martini bullet struck her, tried to save herself, and then with a heavy crash fell over on to her side, stone dead. "Hurrah!" shouted Tom, taking off his hat and flinging it up into the air. "I thought I should never get her. I’ve been after her nearly half an hour. Thanks for your help, Guy. Where’s the pater?" "Here, my boy," replied Mr. Blakeney, with a smile, as he too emerged from the forest. "I have been running on your spoor the last ten minutes. I was afraid you might get into trouble. However, you’ve got your cow, and very nice teeth she has. They weigh more than twenty pounds apiece, I should say." Tom and his father were now joined by Guy and Poeskop. They held consultation and compared notes. It had been a great and successful hunt. Mr. Blakeney had brought down a big bull and a cow with good teeth. The tusks of the bull he estimated to weigh at least fifty pounds apiece, those of the cow about eighteen pounds apiece. Leaving Tom’s dead cow, they now made their way back to the two bulls shot by Guy. Of these the smaller and more troublesome one, which had hunted Guy so unmercifully, carried teeth weighing some forty pounds apiece; while the huge male, so easily bagged at the youngster’s first discharge, showed a truly magnificent pair of tusks.