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 up on its leaning trunk, and back again to its base, where he came to rest with his head hanging over on one side of the tree and his feet on the other. Had there been a single movement in him he must have gone on. The solid from the right barrel had done its work well—in just above the heart through the æorta, through the spine, and out through the right shoulder blade. As he came crashing down I somehow felt confident that all was well. I have never had a more thrilling experience, but I've been much more frightened many times. The gun-bearer was a trump. He was the worst scared black man I ever saw. If I looked as frightened as he, I am thankful no movie camera was on the job. You see, he was between me and the beast when he struck the trail eight feet away.

I had left the cameras and tools in camp to be sent for if they were needed. As the beast lay, a camera could not be used. I could do nothing in sketches worth while, so I sent for nothing. I set to work with my jack-knife and one of the boys had a native iron knife and with these two tools we skinned and skeletonized the gorilla. As we turned him over it kept all hands busy to avoid losing the balance of the beast and ourselves. It took more than a half hour to get the skin and skeleton back to where I had shot from—a human rope stunt. The boys all worked beautifully. Then we had the long, hard trek back to camp.

All hands in camp (forty odd) got a present—enough so that they were all happy, although that