The swords are about three feet five inches in length; and about nine inches of the blade is bound with cord, which is grasped with the right hand, the left seizing the handle, so that it becomes a two-handed weapon. Thus armed, four aggageers, as the professional elephant-hunters are called, are ready to attack the largest elephant. Their method is, if they have no horses, to follow the great game on foot, and endeavor, between the hours of ten A.M. and twelve M., to find one sleeping. If this can be accomplished, they steal upon it, and with one blow of the terrible sword sever the trunk, producing a wound from which the elephant will die in an hour. A well-equipped party, however, consists of four aggageers on horseback. When the trail of a herd is struck, they dash in pursuit; and when the animals are discovered, endeavor to single out the largest tusker, generally an old bull. Galloping after the fleeing elephant, they soon gain on it, and endeavor to make it turn and charge,—a matter of little difficulty. The men now have each a duty to perform. One places himself immediately in front of the animal, and tries to attract its attention, as does the matador in the bull-fight. This is a most dangerous position; as, if the horse stumbles before the desperate charges of the enraged animal, both horse and rider will be crushed to death. But, while the nimble aggageer in front is tantalizing the great beast, the others are watching their opportunity. Galloping up behind the fleeing animal until within a foot or so of its heels, one springs to the ground lightly, sword in hand, though at full speed, and, racing along on foot for a few seconds, strikes the elephant a terrific blow, severing the back sinew of the foot, so that the first pressure after the stroke dislocates the joint. As the hunter leaps to the ground, his companion seizes his horse, and, as soon as the blow is made, he remounts: two or three ride near the unfortunate elephant’s trunk, to give the third aggageer an opportunity to sever the sinew of the other hind-foot, which is soon done; and the huge animal, thus helpless, is literally killed by two blows of a sword. The force of the blow given in this way can be imagined when it is known that a native has been seen to sever the spine of a wild boar at a single stroke. The aggageers often meet with terrible accidents. One employed by Sir S. W. Baker had his leg almost severed by his own sword. Another Arab, Roder Sherrif, had had his horse killed from under him by an elephant, whose tusk at the same time entered his arm, rendering it useless for life. Yet this maimed man was considered the finest hunter, and always chose the most dangerous post, running ahead of the elephant’s trunk to attract its attention; and it was in doing this that he had met with the terrible wounds.