instantaneous. Down sunk the tree again, giving one of my legs a
considerable squeeze, and next instant I heard a crashing sound. The
elephant had bolted.

By this time, what between fright and struggling, I was pretty well
tired. I cannot remember how I got from under the fallen tree, or indeed
anything, until I found myself sitting on the ground drinking some peach
brandy from a flask, and old Indaba-zimbi opposite to me nodding
his white lock sagely, while he fired off moral reflections on the
narrowness of my escape, and my unwisdom in not having taken his advice
to go on foot. That reminded me of my horse--I got up and went to look
at it. It was quite dead, the blow of the elephant's trunk had fallen
on the saddle, breaking the framework, and rendering it useless. I
reflected that in another two seconds it would have fallen on _me_. Then
I called to Indaba-zimbi and asked which way the elephants had gone.

"There!" he said, pointing down the gully, "and we had better go after
them, Macumazahn. We have had the bad luck, now for the good."

There was philosophy in this, though, to tell the truth, I did not feel
particularly sharp set on elephants at the moment. I seemed to have had
enough of them. However, it would never do to show the white feather
before the boys, so I assented with much outward readiness, and we
started, I on the second horse, and the others on foot. When we had
travelled for the best part of an hour down the valley, all of a sudden
we came upon the whole herd, which numbered a little more than eighty.
Just in front of them the bush was so thick that they seemed to hesitate
about entering it, and the sides of the valley were so rocky and steep
at this point that they could not climb them.