It was much more reassuring than to stand poised in a narrow trail with no possibility of sidestepping a charge.
We waited at the crossing for further sounds of the elephants--waited for some time with rifles ready and then gradually relaxed our taut nerves.

A line of porters with their burdens were huddled in one of the trails awaiting developments.

I took a picture of the situation and had stood my rifle against the tree, and sat down to whisper the situation over.

All immediate danger seemed to have passed.

It seemed to, but it hadn't.
[Drawing: _The Porters Came Down the Trail_] Like a sudden unexpected explosion of a thirteen-inch gun there was a thundering crash in the bushes behind the porters, then a perfect avalanche of terrified porters, a dropping of bundles, a wild dash for the protection of the tree, and a bunch of the most startled white men ever seen on Mount Kenia.