We were not quite ready to march, as our loads gave us more trouble than we had bargained for. N’Dominuki came to see us in the morning, accompanied by a large number of his people bringing food. We purchased about a fortnight’s rations, as we did not intend to be away more than a month in any case, and we could easily eke out the rations with game. We only took a month’s supply of tinned stuff, soap, candles, etc., for ourselves, leaving two cases behind with N’Dominuki as a reserve store to take us back to Nairobi. We also left behind twenty loads of beads, large-bore ammunition, and odds and ends of equipment, and all the cattle, except eight or nine head which we intended to take with us. N’Dominuki had five young camels belonging to El Hakim, which we also took along, as we thought they might be useful for buying ivory from the Rendili.
I wished to go out again to look for my friend the bull elephant, but I was unable to put my foot on the ground in consequence of my injured instep. After our evening meal, which we had taken under the trees outside the tent, George and I had an interesting chat with El Hakim about elephant-hunting, upon which subject he was a veritable mine of information. He had shot elephants persistently for the previous four years in Somaliland, Galla-land, and the country round Lake Rudolph, having killed over 150, on one occasion shooting twenty-one elephants in twenty-one days—a fairly good record. Commenting on the size of the tusks obtainable in the districts north of the Waso Nyiro River, he mentioned that his largest pair weighed just over 218 lbs., and measured 9 feet in length.
Naturally, exciting incidents, when in pursuit of his favourite quarry, were numerous. Once he sighted a solitary bull feeding in the open plain some little distance away from his camp. Snatching up an 8-bore rifle and two or three cartridges, he started in pursuit. On proceeding to load his weapon, he found that in his hurry he had brought away the wrong cartridges! They were by a different maker than those usually used in the rifle, and there was a slight difference in the turning of the flange, which caused them to jam a little. He forced them in, and, by an exercise of strength, closed the breech.
After a careful stalk he reached a favourable position for a shot, and, taking aim, banged off. The rifle exploded with a terrific report, the barrels blowing off in his hands, fortunately without doing him any injury—the explosion of 10 drams of powder being too much for the incompletely closed breech-locking grip. There was El Hakim with the butt of his rifle in his hand and the barrels in the other, vaguely wondering in what manner the beast would kill him, and, no doubt, feeling very much de trop. The elephant, who was hit in the shoulder, turned towards him, and, after regarding him with a prolonged stare, turned away again, and moved slowly off as if a bullet in the shoulder was of little or no consequence, leaving his discomfited assailant considerably relieved.
Another time he took the same 8-bore—which, by the way, had not been repaired—and started in pursuit of a herd of elephants. He loaded the weapons, and, after closing the breech, bound it round and round very tightly with a leather bootlace. On the first discharge, stock and barrels again parted company; whereupon he handed the useless weapon to one of his bearers, and, taking an old Martini in exchange, rushed off after the herd, and bagged three more elephants.
In Somaliland, one of the favourite amusements of his party was riding out, mounted on light Somali ponies, to bait wild elephants. Their shikaries would perhaps locate a couple of the animals in a small clump of trees, where they were resting during the heat of the day. One of the party would then ride up and fire a pistol at one of them. The result, of course, would be a scream of rage, and a furious charge by the insulted animal. Horse and rider would at once make themselves scarce. The elephant would seldom charge more than 100 yards or so away from cover, but at that distance, or under, would halt and then slowly return, thus giving another member of the party a chance. With a wild shout another horse and rider would gallop at full speed across the elephant’s path, just out of reach. Round would come the huge beast in another attempt to put an end to what it justly considered a nuisance—an attempt foredoomed to failure. One after another the horsemen would gallop up to the now thoroughly infuriated beast, shouting and firing pistols, provoking ugly rushes first at one and then another of them—for all the world like a lot of schoolboys playing touch. Sometimes one or other of them had a narrow escape, but somebody would nip in at the critical moment and divert the elephant’s attention. A slip or a fall would have meant a horrible death from the feet and tusks of the enraged pachyderm; but the ponies were as agile as their riders, and enjoyed the fun every whit as much.
We had no ponies, and playing with elephants in that manner would not have been sufficiently amusing when mounted on a mule, which had a habit of violently shying whenever it was urged faster than a moderate trot. El Hakim once had a very unpleasant experience through this mule’s aggravating peculiarity. He was riding ahead of the safari, when he noticed a herd of elephants feeding a mile or so in front. Taking his rifle from the bearer, he trotted after them. The elephants moved slowly on, and disappeared over a ridge some distance ahead. El Hakim urged the mule faster, but, in spite of his efforts, on gaining the top of the ridge, he had the mortification of seeing his quarry moving off at an ever-increasing speed. Fearing that he would lose them after all, he jammed his spurs into the mule, and raced away down the slope for all he was worth.
It was fairly steep, the ground being covered with loose stones, some of which, displaced by the mule’s hoofs, rolled and clattered downhill after him, and so frightened the animal that she incontinently bolted. El Hakim’s whole energies were now concentrated on keeping his seat, his rifle, and his presence of mind. Just as he felt that he was gradually succeeding in getting his agitated steed under control, she shied at a clump of cactus, and shot him clean out of the saddle, and over the cactus, into the clinging embrace of a well-developed wait-a-bit thorn which was growing on the other side. When the men had finally cut him out, he had quite given up the idea of shooting elephants that day, turning his attention instead to his numerous abrasions. Besides, the elephants were by that time miles away.
After the evening meal, when we generally sat in front of the camp-fire smoking, George and I used, figuratively speaking, to sit at the feet of El Hakim and listen for hours to his yarns of elephant-hunting. It was very seldom we could get him to speak about his experiences, but when in the mood to talk, his tales were well worth listening to.
We had some hazy idea that elephants were shot at something like a hundred yards’ range with a powerful large-bore rifle, which mortally wounded them at the first discharge. Once I asked El Hakim, off-hand, at what range he generally killed his elephants.