“Now!” said Bob, and together the youths fired, aiming at the eyes.
Without an outcry the elephant fell, writhed about for a second, and then was still.
“Yay!” cried Bob. “Killed it instantly. Both of those bullets found their way to the brain. And,” facing his chum, “you said it couldn’t be done.”
“I’m sorry,” grinned Joe. “I guess there isn’t anything we can’t do, eh, Bob?”
The youths hardly knew what to do with the carcass. They could not take the time to skin it, and yet they knew hyenas and vultures would soon appear if it were left where it was.
Finally they decided to do a quick job of skinning it, although perhaps they could not perform the task as well as it should be done.
Using their hunting knives, they hastily ripped off the white hide, which they were finally able to move several yards from the carcass. Then they gathered thorn bushes and surrounded it by an impenetrable boma. Over the hide as well as around it they placed several thicknesses of thorns and brambles.
“Maybe that’ll keep the vultures and hyenas away,” said Joe, as he turned to leave. “Now, if we can just find the safari.”
For a half hour the boys trudged on, their hopes slowly becoming lessened. At frequent intervals they fired their revolvers, stopping shortly after to listen.
On one occasion Bob thought he heard a shout but was not sure. Again he fired, and again he listened.