Jana never stirred.  No bullet thudded.  No mark of blood appeared upon his hide.  The horrible thought overcame me that I, Allan Quatermain, I the famous shot, the renowned elephant-hunter, had four times missed this haystack of a brute from a distance of forty yards.  So great was my shame that I think I almost fainted.  Through a kind of mist I heard various ejaculations: 

“Great Heavens!” said Ragnall.

“Allemagte!” remarked Hans.

“The Child help us!” muttered Harut.

All the rest of them stared at me as though I were a freak or a lunatic.  Then somebody laughed nervously, and immediately everybody began to laugh.  Even the distant army of the Black Kendah became convulsed with roars of unholy merriment and I, Allan Quatermain, was the centre of all this mockery, till I felt as though I were going mad.  Suddenly the laughter ceased and once more Simba the King began to roar out something about “Jana the Invincible and Invulnerable,” to which the White Kendah replied with cries of “Magic” and “Bewitched!  Bewitched!”

“Yes,” yelled Simba, “no bullet can touch Jana the god, not even those of the white lord who was brought from far to kill him.”

Hans leaped on to the top of the wall, where he danced up and down like an intoxicated monkey, and screamed: 

“Then where is Jana’s left eye?  Did not my bullet put it out like a lamp?  If Jana is invulnerable, why did my bullet put out his left eye?”

Hans ceased from dancing on the wall and steadying himself, lifted the little rifle Intombi, shouting: 

“Let us see whether after all this beast is a god or an elephant.”

Then he touched the trigger, and simultaneously with the report, I heard the bullet clap and saw blood appear on Jana’s hide just by the very spot over the heart at which I had aimed without result.  Of course, the soft ball driven from a small-bore rifle with a light charge of powder was far too weak to penetrate to the vitals.  Probably it did not do much more than pierce through the skin and an inch or two of flesh behind it.

Still, its effects upon this “invulnerable” god were of a marked order.  He whipped round; he lifted his trunk and screamed with rage and pain.  Then off he lumbered back towards his own people, at such a pace that the attendants who held the chains on either side of him were thrown over and forced to leave go of him, while the king and the priest upon his back could only retain their seats by clinging to the chair and the rope about his neck.

The result was satisfactory so far as the dispelling of magical illusions went, but it left me in a worse position than before, since it now became evident that what had protected Jana from my bullets was nothing more supernatural than my own lack of skill.  Oh! never in my life did I drink of such a cup of humiliation as it was my lot to drain to the dregs in this most unhappy hour.  Almost did I hope that I might be killed at once.