There was still a good distance to be run.

The climbing of the tree, beyond the reach of the elephant's trunk, would occupy time.
There was no hope of escaping to the tree.
These reflections occurred almost instantaneously.

In ten seconds Swartboy arrived at the conclusion, that running to the tree would not save him; and all at once he stopped in his career, wheeled round, and faced the elephant! Not that he had formed any plan of saving himself in that way.

It was not bravery, but only despair, that caused him to turn upon his pursuer.
He knew that, by running on, he would surely be overtaken.

It could be no worse if he faced round; and, perhaps, he might avoid the fatal charge by some dexterous manoeuvre.
The Bushman was now right in the middle of the open ground; the elephant rushing straight towards him.
The former had no weapon to oppose to his gigantic pursuer.