I felt the fear, that turns a man's very heart to ice, grip hold of me--felt as if nothing mattered--imagined the whole universe a sea of charging elephants--accepted the inevitable--and suddenly received my manhood back again! My forefinger acted! I fired point-blank down the throat of the charging bull.

And it seemed to have no more effect on him than a pea-shooter has on a railroad train! I had left Schillingschen's heavy-bored elephant gun behind with Brown, considering it too cumbersome, and was using a Mauser with flat-nosed bullets.

I fired four shots as fast as I could pump them from the magazine straight down the monster's hot red throat; and he continued to come on as if I had not touched him, hard-pressed on either flank by bulls nearly as big as he.
Perhaps the reason why my past history did not flash review was that my time was not yet come! I continued to see elephant--nothing but elephant!--little bloodshot eyes aflame with frenzy--great tusks upthrown--a trunk upraised to brain me--huge flat feet that raged to tread me down and knead me into purple mud! I kept the last shot with a coolness I believe was really numbness--then felt his hot breath like a blast on my face, and let him have it, straight down the throat again! He screamed--stopped--quivered right over me--toppled from the knees--and fell like a landslide, pushed forward as he tumbled by the weight behind, and held from rolling sidewise by the living tide on either flank.

I tried to spring back, but his falling trunk struck me to earth.

On either side of me a huge tusk drove into the ground, and I lay still between them, as safe as if in bed, while the herd crashed past to right and left for so many minutes that it seemed all the universe was elephants--bulls, cows and calves all trumpeting in mad desire to get away--away--anywhere at all so be it was not where they then were.
Blood poured on me from the dead brute's throat--warm, slippery, sticky stuff; but I lay still.