I had told the chief, who was now most friendly, that I was going to shoot sable, and he came and asked me what I intended to kill the next day, and was much amused when I jokingly replied that I should bring home a rhinoceros.
With this end in view I started early, at 5.30 a.m., and crossing the river, skirted along the foot of the hills, and killed a bull hartebeeste for the Mahomedan boys, who refuse to eat the meat of any beast that has not had its throat cut before death. Although this is a great nuisance (as cutting the throat spoils the head skin), it is right to respect such customs, and I always made a point of killing something else, so that they should not suffer for their belief.
At 7.30 I found fresh rhinoceros spoor which I followed under a blazing sun till 12.30. The country had been very difficult, and I was just beginning to despair when I heard a snort, and looking up, saw the rhino trotting round the corner of an ant-hill, behind which he had been sleeping. On seeing me he stopped, snorting, blowing, and stamping, looking exceedingly nasty. I was carrying my .303, and turning round for my 4-bore, I found that all my boys had bolted up a small thorn tree, from the branch of which they were hanging like a cluster of bees. They had thrown down the gun, and I was compelled to stoop down and grope about for it in the undergrowth. The brute was blowing and snorting only fifteen yards away, and I felt very uncomfortable, as in my position I offered a magnificent target. However, at last I found the gun, and firing past his cheek, hit him full on the edge of the shoulder. Instantly there arose a very hell of sound, squealing, stamping, and crashing of bushes and grass. The smoke hung like a pall around me, and I thought he was charging. Having nowhere to run to, I stayed where I was, and suddenly his huge mass dashed past the edge of the smoke-cloud, and I saw him disappear at a tremendous pace into the grass. We followed hard, but though he bled freely and lay down several times, we did not come up to him again till 3 p.m., when we found him standing at ten yards' distance in a bushy nullah far up in the hills. I fired the 4-bore at his shoulder, knocking him down, but he rose again, and tried to climb the far bank; so I fired the second barrel hurriedly; the cartridge split at the back, and I was knocked over a tree two yards behind. That stopped him, and three solid bullets from the .303 finished him.
I found that the first shot had penetrated about 2 ft., smashing all the shoulder, yet he travelled for two and a half hours, over the steepest hills and through some precipitous water-courses.
In cutting off his head, I found an old iron native bullet in the muscle of his neck.
We were terribly exhausted from the desperate work in a pitiless sun, and hastily grilled a portion of his liver, which was excellent.
A twelve-mile trot brought us back to camp at 7 p.m., and the old chief turned out in state to meet me, and falling upon his knees, rubbed his face in the dust in token of admiration at my powers of prescience.
The natives departed in hundreds there and then to cut up the meat, and arrived early the next morning with the head intact; twenty boys carried it slung on a pole. Skinning it was a fearful business, and occupied me till dark; toil that I have much regretted, since I find that the skull, skin, and many other trophies and curios have been unfortunately lost in transit.
The old chief again came to me and asked me what I was going to kill. I suggested eland for a change; and knowing that there were several herds near where I had killed the rhinoceros, I set off in that direction, my local guides carefully placing a bunch of leaves under a bush on the left-hand side of the path. This, they informed me, ensured success.
The country was full of splendid hunting-grounds; the young grass was sprouting from the black, peaty soil, and the new foliage of the trees afforded grateful shade, beneath which one could walk for hours without encountering any undergrowth.