and charge with your spears;
Let the stoutest and best of you aim behind his ears.
Watch well the unfortunate on whom he turns round!
He must run this and that way, and oft change his ground;
Ye others must tease him, and invite him your way,
Hamstring him, and spear him, and do what ye may.
Beware of his front! range on his sides and his rear,
Go all together, and let each man heave a sure spear.
Fast as he veers round, hasten at right angles away
To 'scape the elephant's first charge is no child's play,
For his stride is so long he swallows the ground:
One stride of his is as long as a hunter's bound.
After a while he will get tired--heed well what I say,
He is never so dangerous as when standing at bay;
For the hunter too often thinks he is dead game,
And advances too near him, too eager for fame;
But be ye guided by me, and stand off afar,
And your good hunt so well done, ye will not mar.
Let the elephant bleed, let him fall to the ground,
Let him gladden your ears with his fall's heavy sound!
Then think of the Mganga, the words he has said;
Be sure that his services to you are well paid!
Then will ye succeed in your hunt on the plain,
Succeed without loss, and succeed without pain!"

The author may not attempt further translations from the speech, or song
rather, of this old Mganga or magic doctor, the Kituta polysyllables
having tasked his powers to the utmost; but from his knowledge of
hunting in Africa, he feels bound to admit that the old man had a sound
head on his shoulders; and the band of hunters having heard his lengthy
chant to the end, declared that they felt eternally grateful to him. On
the conclusion of his chant, he delivered to each hunter a small portion
of whitish powder, which we, who have been in his museum, feel confident
consisted of burnt brain, mixed with wood ashes. But this charm,
consecrated by the magic doctor, could not fail to render each hunter
highly successful in his enterprise.

The pombe, or beer, next attracts the attention of the singers, and each
singer incontinently sets to the agreeable task of guzzling, where the
author leaves them until the morrow--the Kituta polysyllables and the
pombe having fairly upset him for the time.

In the morning, at daybreak, without any of the formalities of muster or
calling the roll, Kalulu, Selim, Simba, and Moto, left the village by
the principal gate, followed by about fifty strong act