Now he turned to the half-right and followed a narrow track across a neck of land that jutted out into the lake.  We approached a low rise, and as he drew near the top of that he went down on hands and knees, crawling up the last few yards so cautiously that I had to stare hard to be sure he was there at all.

As soon as Fred came near he made frantic signals to him to get down and crawl too; so we all knelt down and crawled behind Fred, striving to make no noise and filling the unhappy chief so full of fury at the noise we did make that he writhed in nervous torment.

On top of the rise Fred stopped and in imitation of the chief thrust his head forward very gradually.  One by one we followed suit until, lying prone in line along the ridge within thirty paces of the water, we saw at last what we were after.

Bathed in the moonlight, head and shoulders clear of the mirror-like water, a great bull hippopotamus surveyed the scenery, drinking in contentment through his little placid eyes.  Out there nothing troubled him, as for instance the mosquitoes troubled us.  He had eaten his fill, for some sort of green stuff hung from his jaws; and he was beginning to feel sleepy, for be opened his enormous mouth and yawned straight toward us—­three tons of meat on the hoof, less than a hundred yards away, stock-still, and unsuspicious!

The chief began whispering unintelligible warnings in a voice so low that it sounded like the drone of insects.  Fred thrust the rifle forward inch by inch and, taking his time about it, settled himself comfortably for the shot.  It was no easy shot in that uncertain light at a downward angle.  The glare of the sun on the lake had troubled his eyes during the last few days.  The shimmer of the moonlight was deceptive now.  I wished he would pass the rifle to Will, or even to Brown of Lumbwa, who was digging his fingers into the earth beside me in almost uncontrollable excitement.  But Fred was unperturbed, and the chief, who was nervous enough to detect the slightest sign of nervousness in Fred, did not seem to mistrust him for one second.

Three times I saw Fred breathe deeply, as if about to squeeze the trigger, but each time he was only “makkin’ sikkar,” and eased his lungs again.  The target a hippo offers to a Mauser rifle bullet is not much more than half the size of a man’s hand, including only the ear and eye and the narrow space between them.  By daylight at a hundred yards that is nothing for a cool shot to complain about, but in half-moonlight, at that angle, it is none too much.  I swore silently, wishing again and again that Fred would pass the rifle to Will, or to Brown—­or to me!  Yet if he had passed it to me I should have trembled worse than any one.

Visions began to haunt me of what would happen if Fred should miss!  What would the effect be on wild folk tortured by hunger and keyed to the pitch of frenzy by suspense?  Then, even while we watched, another problem added itself.  Over on the water there began to come a wind, driving ripples and little waves in front of it.  The moment those came near the hippo be would vanish from view, for they only care for moonlight when they can see it mirrored on a perfectly still surface