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Roder Sherrif, with the withered arm, was second; with the reins hung upon the hawk-like claw that was all that remained of a hand, but with his naked sword grasped in his right, he kept close to his brother, ready to second his blow.
The following day was the new year, January 1st, 1862; and with the four brothers Sherrif and our party we formed a powerful body of hunters: six aggageers and myself all well mounted. With four gun-bearers and two camels, both of which carried water, we started in search of elephants. Florian was unwell, and remained in camp.
Round went the mare as though upon a pivot, and away, over rocks and stones, flying like a gazelle, with the monkey-like form of little Roder Sherrif leaning forward, and looking over his left shoulder as the elephant rushed after him. For a moment I thought he must be caught.
We were thus leisurely returning home through alternate plains and low open forest of mimosa, when Taher Sherrif, who was leading the party, suddenly reined up his horse and pointed to a thick bush, beneath which was a large gray but shapeless mass.
However, Taher Sherrif broke into a trot, followed by the entire party, as the elephant was not in sight. We ascended a hill, and when near the summit we perceived the elephant about eighty yards ahead. It was looking behind during its retreat, by swinging its huge head from side to side, and upon seeing us approach it turned suddenly round and halted.
The elephant stood facing us like a statue; it did not move a muscle beyond a quick and restless action of the eyes, that were watching all sides. Taher Sherrif and his youngest brother, Ibrahim, now separated, and each took opposite sides of the elephant, and then joined each other about twenty yards behind it.
The plot had been thoroughly ventilated; the last act exhibited the perfect fidelity of my Tokrooris, in whom I subsequently reposed much confidence. In the afternoon of that day the brothers Sherrif arrived. These were the most renowned of all the sword-hunters of the Hamrans, of whom I have already spoken.
One effort more, and the sword flashed in the sunshine, as the rear-most rhinoceros disappeared in the thick screen of thorns, with a gash about a foot long upon his hind-quarters. Taher Sherrif shook his bloody sword in triumph above his head, but the rhinoceros was gone. We were fairly beaten, regularly outpaced; but I believe another two hundred yards would have given us the victory.
I accompanied them, until Taher advised me to keep about the same distance upon the left flank. My Tokrooris kept apart from the scene, as they were not required. In front of the elephant were two aggageers, one of whom was the renowned Roder Sherrif, with the withered arm.
The latter were the most celebrated aggageers among the renowned tribe of the Hamran. Their father and grandfather had been mighty Nimrods, and the broadswords wielded by their strong arms had descended to the men who now upheld the prestige of the ancient blades. The eldest was Taher Sherrif. His second brother, Roder Sherrif, was a very small, active-looking man, with a withered left arm.
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