affe had not seen him, for the
head, having vanished for a moment, reappeared; it was feeding, plucking
down small branches of leaves, and Felix, lying on his side, opened the
breech of the rifle, drew the empty cartridge case, inserted a cartridge
in each barrel, and closed the breech. Now, unknown to Adams, when he had
fired the gun the day before, there was a plug of clay in the left-hand
barrel about two inches from the muzzle; just an inconsiderable wad of
clay about as thick as a gun wad; the elephant folk had done this when
they had mishandled the gun, and, though the thing could have been removed
with a twig, Puck himself could not have conceived a more mischievous
obstruction. He certainly never would have conceived so devilish a one.

Adams had, fortunately for himself, fired the right-hand barrel; the
concussion had not broken up the plug, for it was still moist, being clay
from the trodden-up edge of the pool. It was moist still, for the night
dew had found it.

The Zappo Zap knew nothing of the plug. He knew nothing, either, of the
tricks of these big, old-fashioned elephant guns, for he kept both barrels
full cock, and it is almost three to two that if you fire one of these
rifles with both barrels full cock, both barrels will go off
simultaneously, or nearly so, from the concussion.

With the gun trailing after him--another foolish trick--the savage crawled
on his belly through the long grass to within firing distance of the tree
clump.

Then he lay and waited.

He had not long to wait.

The giraffe, hungry and feeding, was straying along the edge of the clump
of trees, picking down the youngest and freshest leaves, just as a
_gourmet_ picks the best bits out of a salad.

In a few minutes his body was in view, the endless neck flung up, the
absurd head and little, stumpy, useless horns prying amidst the leaves,
and every now and then slewing round and sweeping the country in search of
danger.

Felix lay motionless as a log; then, during a moment when the giraffe's
head was hidden in the leaves, he flung himself into position and took
aim.

A tremendous report rang out, the giraffe fell, squealing, and roaring and
kicking, and Felix, flung on his back, lay stretched out, a cloud of gauzy
blue smoke in the air above him.

The breech of the rifle had blown out. He had fired the right-hand barrel,
but the concussion had sprung the left-hand cock as well.

It seemed to the savage that a great bla