e hunters hoped that this was
the prelude to his sleep, and watched him with intense earnestness.

It proved to be so.

As they sat gazing, they noticed that his head sunk a little, his ears
ceased their flapping, his tail hung motionless, and his trunk, now
twined around his tusks, remained at rest.

They gaze intently. Now they see his body droop a little to one side--
now it touches the tree--there is heard a loud crack, followed by a
confused crashing of branches--and the huge dark body of the elephant
sinks upon its side.

At the same instant a terrible scream drowns all other sounds, causing
the forest to echo, and the very leaves to quake. Then follows a
confused roaring, mingled with the noise of cracking branches, and the
struggles of the mighty brute where he lies kicking his giant limbs
along the earth, in the agonies of death!

The hunters remain in the tree. They see that the elephant is down--
that he is impaled. There will be no need for their puny weapons.
Their game has already received the death-wound.

The struggle is of short duration. The painful breathing that precedes
death is heard issuing from the long proboscis; and then follows a deep
ominous silence.

The hunters leap down, and approach the prostrate body. They see that
it still lies upon the terrible _chevaux de frise_, where it had fallen.
The stakes have done their work most effectively. The elephant
breathes no more. He is dead!

It was the work of an hour to cut out those splendid tusks. But our
hunters thought nothing of that; and they were only the more pleased to
find each of them a heavy load--as much as a man could carry!

Von Bloom shouldered one, Swartboy the other while Hendrik loaded
himself with the guns and implements; and all three, leaving the carcass
of the dead elephant behind them, returned triumphantly to camp.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

THE WILD-ASSES OF AFRICA.

Notwithstanding the success of the day's hunt the mind of Von Bloom was
not at rest. They had "bagged" their game, it was true, but in what
manner? Their success was a mere accident, and gave them no earnest of
what might be expected in the future. They might go long before finding
another "sleeping-tree" of the elephants, and repeating their easy
capture.

Such were the not very pleasant reflections of the field-cornet, on the
evening after returning from their successful hunt.

But still less pleasant were they, two weeks later,