In the saddle and everything became movement and noise, dust and the

smell of burnt powder. Chase them, coughing in the dust. Close with

them. Off the horse and shoot. Wet blood on grey skin. Slam, slam of

the rifle, its barrel hot, recoiling savagely. Sweat in the eyes,

stinging.

Ride. Shoot again. Two more down, screaming, anchored by paralysed

legs. Blood-red as a flag. Load, cramming cartridges into the rifle.

Ride. Chase them, shoot again and again. The bullets striking on flesh

with a hollow sound, then up and ride again. Ride, until the horse

could no longer keep up with them and he had to let them go. He stood

holding his horse's head, the dust and the thirst closed his throat. He

could not swallow. His hands trembled in reaction. His shoulder was

aching again. He untied his silk scarf, wiped his face with it and blew

the mud out of his nose, then he drank from his water-bottle. The water

tasted sweet.

The hunt had led from parkland into mopam bush. It was very thick,

shiny green leaves hanging to the ground and pressing close around him.

The air was still and warm to breathe. He turned back along the line of

the chase. He found them by their squealing. When they saw him they

tried to charge, dragging themselves towards him, using the front legs

only and groping with their dunks. They sagged into stillness after the

head shot. This was the bad part. Sean worked quickly. He could hear

the other rifles in the mopard forest around him and when he came to one

of the long clearings among the trees he saw Jan Paulus walking towards

him, leading his horse.

How many? called Sean. Gott, Man, I didn't count. What a killing,

hey? Have you got a drink for me? I dropped my water-bottle somewhere.

Jan Paulus's rifle was in its saddle scabbard. The reins were slung

over his shoulder and his horse followed him with its head drooping from

exhaustion. The clearing was walled in with the dense mopani trees and

a wounded elephant broke into the open. It was lung shot, the side of

its chest painted with froth, and when it squealed the blood sprayed in

a pink spout from the end of its trunk.

It went for Jan Paulus, streaming the black battle ensigris of its ears.

His horse reared, the reins snapped, it turned free and galloped away,

leaving jan full in the path of the charge. Sean went up onto his

horse's back without touching stirrups. His horse threw its head,

dancing in a tight circle, but he dragged it around and drove it to

intercept the charge. Don't run, for God's sake, don't run! he shouted

as he cleared his rifle from the scabbard. Jan Paulus heard him.

He stood with his hands at his sides, his feet apart and his body

braced. The elephant heard Sean shout also and it swung its head and

Sean saw the first hesitation in its run. He fired, not trying to pick

his shot, hoping only to hurt it, to bring it away from Jan Paulus. The

bullet slapped into it with the sound of a wet towel flicked against a

wall. The elephant turned, clumsy with the weakness of its shattered

lungs. Sean gathered his horse beneath him and wheeled it away and the

elephant followed him.

Sean fumbled as he reloaded, his hands were slippery with sweat. One of

the brass shells slipped through his fingers, tapped against his knee

and dropped into the grass under his horse's hooves. The elephant

gained on him. He loosened his bed-roll from the saddle and let it

fall, they would sometimes stop to savage even a fallen hat, but not

this one. He turned in the saddle and fired into it. It squeled again

so close upon him that the blown blood splattered into his face. His

horse was almost finished; he could feel its legs flopping with every

stride and they were nearly at the end of the clearing racing towards

the solid wall of green mopani. He pushed another round into the breech

of his rifle and swung his body across the saddle.

He slid down until his feet touched the ground and he was running next

to his horse. He let go and was flung forward, but he fought to keep

his balance, his body jarring with the force of his run. Then, still on

his feet, he turned for his first steady shot. The elephant was coming

in fast, almost on top of him, hanging over him like a Cliff. Its trunk

coiled on its chest and the curves of its ivory were lifted high.

it's too close, much too close, I can't hit the brain from here.

He aimed at the hollow in its forehead just above the level of its eyes.

He fired and the elephants legs folded up; its brain burst like an

overripe tomato within the bone castle of its skull.

Sean tried to jump aside as the massive body came skidding down upon

him, but one of its legs hit him and threw him face down into the grass.

He lay there. He felt sick, for his stomach was still full of warm oily

fear.

After a while he sat up and looked at the elephant. one of its tusks

had snapped off flush with the lip. Jan Paulus came, panting from his

run. He stopped next to the elePhant and touched the wound in its

forehead, then he wiped his fingers on his shirt. Are you all right,

man? He took Sean's arm and helped him to his feet; then he picked up

Sean's hat and dusted it carefully before handing it to him.