"You spoiled a fine shot for me," was all Mr. Wallace said. "I guess you've had lesson enough. Get the boys busy on the skins, John."
"How about the elephants?" spoke up Critch.
"They're not far off, unless your shooting frightened them. We'll leave the Bantus to skin these beasts, while we go on with Mvita's men."
CHAPTER XII
MONTENAY RETURNS
"We ought to provide Mvita with a new robe," suggested Burt with a grin. "He saved my life all right back there, whether he meant to or not."
"A few yards of cloth will fix him," returned his uncle, as they started off with the chief and his men. "You'd better carry your big guns now yourselves. No telling what will happen."
One of the villagers led them forward at a brisk pace, straight onward for about a mile. They were now almost in the jungle, the open spaces and higher ground seeming to end abruptly with a small stream which they passed. Mvita's men were spread out in a wide circle, for the elephant herd had finally been located, and once the beaters got around them the animals would scent them and come up-wind toward the hunters.
Presently they came upon the elephant spoor, or trail—a wide swath ripped through the heavy undergrowth by the passage of the big animals. To one side of this Mr. Wallace and the boys took their stand, hiding amid the bushes.
"Let them pass us," cautioned the explorer, "and when you have a clear shoulder-shot, make it fatal the first time. You take the first, Critch—"
He was cut short by a yell that arose ahead. This was followed by a loud trumpeting as the frightened animals crashed away from the beaters. Burt paled as he thought of what might happen should the elephants burst upon them through the jungle instead of following their own trail, but he had little time for reflection. Even as the thought came to him the first elephant appeared with a shrill trumpet of rage, his trunk flung high and his wide ears flapping forward. Behind him came more of the dim, gigantic shapes, and the boys pulled up their guns.