The same thing, just precisely nothing, happened again and I began to wonder whether I was shooting blank shells or putty bullets, when the animal started swaying groggily back and forth on its front feet. It swayed more and more and then I realized that I had hit it in the head end I waited to see it fall—mine at last—the King of the Jungle!
I started walking towards the animal and had gone about twenty paces when it stopped swaying, turned on its front legs and let out a snort of thunderous defiance and a cloud of bloody mist from its nostrils. This particular sladang, however, must have been Hollywood-trained or taken a correspondence course. Anyhow, he put his great head down and with blood streaming from his nostrils and roaring like a thunderstorm started straight for me, dragging his hind quarters.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.