"Toa bundouki m'kubwa," I said. "The big one. Gimme the .470." The gunbearer snapped the barrels onto the elephant gun and slipped a couple of cigar-sized shells into it. I held it on the gory hyena and took his head off. "They say it’s a good woodchuck gun, the .220," Harry said. "I’m inclined to believe they may be right. But for pigs and hyenas and such it ain't much gun, is it?"