It changed the whole problem, he couldn't leave the herd to that

red-headed Dutchman. He ran across to the wagon and snatched his

bandolier from the foot of the cot. His rifle was already in the

scabbard. Are you tired, Hlubi? Sean buckled the heavy ammunition belt

across his chest. The sweat had run in oily streaks down the Zulu's

body; his breathing was deep and quick. No, Nkosi. well, then, lead us

to these elephant of yours, my fleetfooted springbok. Sean swung up

onto his horse He looked over his shoulder at the other camp. She would

still be there when he came back.

Sean was limited to the speed of Hlubi's feet while the two Leroux had

only to gallop along the easy spoor left by Sean's party and they caught

up with him before he had gone two miles. Good morning to you, Oupa

greeted him as he drew level and pulled his horse in to a trot. Out for

a morning's ride, I see. Sean made the best of it with a grin. If we

are all to hunt then we must hunt together. Do you agree? Of course,

meneer. And we must share the bag equally, one third to each man.

That is always the way. Oupa. nodded. Do you agree? Sean turned in

his -saddle towards Jan Paulus. Jan Paulus granted. He showed little

Inclination to open his mouth since he'd lost his tooth.

They found the spoor within an hour. The herd had wrecked a road

through the thick bush along the river.

They had stripped the bark from the saplings and left them naked and

bleeding. They had knocked down bigger trees to reach the tender top

leaves and they had dropped their great piles of dung in the grass.

We need no trackers to follow this. Jan Paulus had the first excitement

on him. Sean looked at him and wondered how many elephant had died in

front of his rifle. A thousand perhaps, and yet the excitement was on

him again now. Tell your servants to follow us. We'll go ahead. We

catch them within an hour. He smiled at Sean, gaptoothed, and Sean felt

the excitement lift the hair on his own forearms. He smiled back.

They cantered in a rough line abreast, slack-reined to let the horses

pick their own way among the fallen trees.

The river bush thinned out as they moved north and soon they were into

parkland. The grass brushed their stirrups and the ground beneath it

was firm and smooth.

They rode without talking, leaning forward in their saddles, looking

ahead. The rhythmic beat of hooves was a war drum. Sean ran his

fingers along the row of bullets strapped across his chest, then he drew

his rifle, checked the load and thrust it back into its scabbard.

There! said Oupa and Sean saw the herd. It was massed among a grove of

fever trees a quarter of a mile ahead. Name of a name, Paulus whistled.

There must be two hundred at least. Sean heard the first pig-squeal of

alarm, saw ears fan out and trunks lift. Then the herd bunched together

and ran with their backs humped, a thin screen of dust trailing behind

them. Paulus take the right flank. You, meneer, in the middle and I'll

ride left, shouted Oupa.

he jammed his hat down over his ears and his horse jumped under him as

he hit it with his heels. Like a thrown trident the three horsemen

hurled themselves at the herd. Sean rode into the dust. He picked an

old cow elephant from the moving mountain range in front Of him and

pressed Ins horse so close upon her that he could see the bristles in

her tail tuft and the erosion of her skin, wrinkled as an old man's

scrotum. He touched his hand to his horse's neck and it plunged, from

full gallop to standstill in half a dozen strides. Sean threw his feet

free of the stirrups and hit the ground, loose-kneed to ride the shock.

The cow's spine was a line of lumps beneath the grey skin, Sean broke it

with his first bullet and she dropped, sliding on her hindquarters like

a dog with worms. His horse started to run again before he was properly