he hunter knew this,
and had the coolness to remain close and quiet.

Not so with Swartboy. When the elephant moved forward, he and Hendrik
had crept after through the grove of mokhalas. They had even followed
him across the open ground into the bush, where Von Bloom awaited him.
On hearing the shot, and seeing that the elephant was still unhurt,
Swartboy's courage gave way; and leaving Hendrik, he ran back towards
the mokhala grove, shouting as he went.

His cries reached the ears of the elephant, that at once rushed off in
the direction in which he heard them. In a moment he emerged from the
bush, and, seeing Swartboy upon the open ground, charged furiously after
the flying Bushman. Hendrik--who had stood his ground, and in the
shelter of the bushes was not perceived--delivered his shot as the
animal passed him. His ball told upon the shoulder, but it only served
to increase the elephant's fury. Without stopping, he rushed on after
Swartboy, believing, no doubt, that the poor Bushman was the cause of
the hurts he was receiving, and the nature of which he but ill
understood.

It was but a few moments, from the firing of the first shot, until
things took this turn. Swart boy was hardly clear of the bushes before
the elephant emerged also; and as the former struck out for the mokhala
trees, he was scarce six steps ahead of his pursuer.

Swartboy's object was to get to the grove, in the midst of which were
several trees of large size. One of these he proposed climbing--as that
seemed his only chance for safety.

He had not got half over the open ground, when he perceived he would be
too late. He heard the heavy rush of the huge monster behind him--he
heard his loud and vengeful bellowing--he fancied he felt his hot
breath. There was still a good distance to be run. The climbing of the
tree, beyond the reach of the elephant's trunk, would occupy time.
There was no hope of escaping to the tree.

These reflections occurred almost instantaneously. In ten seconds
Swartboy arrived at the conclusion, that running to the tree would not
save him; and all at once he stopped in his career, wheeled round, and
faced the elephant!

Not that he had formed any plan of saving himself in that way. It was
not bravery, but only despair, that caused him to turn upon his pursuer.
He knew that, by running on, he would surely be overtaken. It could be
no worse if he faced round; and, perhaps, he might avoid the fatal
charg