others to advance. Then, when he noticed the big bull sentinels of
the herd look about as if to detect the presence of enemies, he gave
another signal and the hunters sank out of sight in the tall grass.

As for the natives, they were like snakes, unseen but ever present,
wriggling along on their hands and knees. They were awaiting the
slaughter, when there would be fresh meat in abundance.

At length the old elephant hunter decided that they were near enough
to chance some shots. As a matter of fact, Tom Swift, with his
electric rifle, had been within range some time before, but as he
did not want to spoil the sport for the others, by firing and
killing, and so alarming the herd, he had held back. Now they could
all shoot together.

"Let her go!" suddenly cried Mr. Durban, and they took aim.

There was a fusillade of reports and several of the big brutes
toppled over.

"Bless my toothbrush!" cried Mr. Damon, "that's the time I got one!"

"Yes, and a fine specimen, too!" added Mr. Durban, who had only
succeeded in downing a small bull, with an indifferent pair of
tusks. "A fine speciment, Mr. Damon, I congratulate you!"

As for Tom Swift, he had killed two of the largest elephants in the
herd.

But now the hunters had their work cut out for them, since the