roughly when the trophy is to be mounted entire. There were
dozens of measurements of every part of the body, enough to make a dress
for a woman, and then came the skinning, a prodigious task that took all
of the late afternoon and evening. We investigated the position of an
elephant's heart which Kermit Roosevelt had said was up in the upper
third or at the top of the second third of the body, a spot which must
be reached by a shot directed through the point of the ear as it lay
back. As a matter of fact, an elephant's heart lies against the brisket,
about ten or eleven inches from the bottom of the breast. A broadside
shot through the front leg at the elbow would penetrate the heart.

At nine o'clock, Christmas Eve, the tent arrived and was soon put up in
the jungle of high grass at the middle of the little peninsula. A more
African scene can not be imagined. The porter's fires, over each of
which sticks spitted with elephant meat _en brochette_ were cooking,
imparted a weird look to the river jungle grass and spectral trees.

At ten o'clock we had our dinner and at eleven we put on our pajamas and
with the camp-fire burning before the tent and the armed askaris pacing
back and forth, gave ourselves up to lazy talk, then meditation and then
sound sleep.

It was a wonderful day--one always to be remembered.

The next day, Christmas, came without the usual customs of Christmas
morn. In the forenoon we stuck with the bull elephant, getting its skin
and bones ready for transportation back to camp; and in the afternoon
came the work of saving the skull and part of the skin of the cow
elephant. The porters must have thought the day a wonderful one, for
they ate and gorged on elephant meat until they could hardly move.

CHAPTER XIII

IN THE SWAMPS ON THE GUAS NGISHU. BEATING FOR LIONS WE CAME UPON A
STRANGE AND FASCINATING WILD BEAST, WHICH BECAME ATTACHED TO OUR PARTY.
THE LITTLE WANDEROBO DOG

One of the most exciting phases of African hunting is the beating of
swamps for lion. A long skirmish line of native porters is sent in at
one end of the swamp and, like a gigantic comb, sweeps every live thing
ahead of it as it advances through the reeds. All kinds of swamp life
are stirred into action, and a fairly large swamp will yield forth the
contents of a pretty respectable menagerie. Sometimes a hyena or two
will be flushed and once in a while a lion will be driven out.

It is the constant expectation of the