Chapter XXI The Bad Elephant
We were riding slowly, in Indian file, through a rather dense belt of forest, M leading, when that worthy suddenly drew up and slowly turned his head round to shoot a warning glance at us. When he did this old M always looked so exactly like a setter drawing up to a point, that it was all Jack and I could do to avoid laughing aloud.
At this particular moment, laughter or anything else of a noisy description would have been a grave mistake, for M was very much in earnest. He beckoned us up to him, and pointed to a tree which had been almost stripped of its leaves and smaller twigs, and said, “Elfunt—bad elfunt!”
“Why bad?” whispered Jack to me; “and how does he know whether it is bad or good?”
To this I could give no reply, for I could not imagine wherein consisted the goodness or the badness of an elephant. There did not appear to me to be anything peculiarly wicked in an animal helping itself to its natural and favourite food without M’ngulu’s leave; and I confess that up to this point my sympathies were in favour of the elephant and against his traducer, M; but I was to learn presently that this elephant was a very bad animal indeed—a really wicked creature without one redeeming feature about his character.
It seems that the acute M’ngulu formed his opinion as to the elephant upon whose traces he had suddenly chanced by the manner in which he had eaten his breakfast. He had not only stripped the tree, but had savagely pulled it about and broken its branches, scattering bits far and wide, and from this fact M promptly concluded that he was a bad or “rogue” elephant—namely, one who by reason of his evil temper has found it impossible to remain with the herd to which he belongs, and has therefore separated himself or been forcibly separated from his fellows, and has departed to vent his fury, in future, upon trees, or strangers, or anything that is encountered.
“You know,” said Jack, when we discussed this question together afterwards, “it’s a capital idea! Why don’t we fellows of the human persuasion adopt the plan? Fancy, if one could always banish sulky chaps, at school or anywhere, and send them away to rage about the place until they recovered their senses and returned mild and reasonable!”
I said that I scarcely thought the plan would work in polite society, because, though the community to which he belonged would no doubt be excellently well rid of the rampageous one, the rest of the world would probably object to his being at large, and would likely enough return him to the fold in several pieces.
M’ngulu followed up that elephant, by some mysterious process of his own, for two hours, at the end of which period we had drawn so close to the quarry that we could distinctly hear him somewhere in front of us, still breakfasting, apparently in his own distinctively “roguish” way, for there was a sound of continual rending and tearing of branches, and the ground here and there was littered with wasted food which, Jack whispered, might have been given to the elephantine poor instead of being chucked about in this ruthless way!
A minute or two more, and M’ngulu stopped, sitting motionless upon his horse, finger to lip. Wondering and excited, we followed his example, sitting like two statues.
Presumably M’ngulu had caught sight of the elephant, but I could see nothing of the brute; neither could Jack, it appeared, for he craned his neck to this side and that, and looked excited but vacant. The rending noise had ceased. Doubtless the “rogue” was becoming suspicious; perhaps he had heard us, or seen us, or scented us.
“That’s the worst of having a Somali hunter,” whispered Jack; “one can smell them quite a long way off! Any fool of an elephant ought to”—
But Jack’s frivolity was suddenly broken off at this moment by a loud ejaculation from M’ngulu, who turned swiftly about at the same instant and whipped up his horse, shouting out something to us in his native lingo, which we took for instructions to follow his example.
Off we scudded, all three of us, separating as we went; and as we turned and fled I heard a sound which was somewhat terrifying to the inexperienced—a shrieking, trumpeting noise, accompanied by the crashing of trees and shuffling of great limbs; and I knew, without being told, that the “bad” elephant had taken this hunt into his own hands.
In spite of all the noise and circumstance affording unmistakable evidence that our friend the “rogue” was really close at hand, I had not caught sight of him up to this time, and it was only when M’ngulu had galloped away in one direction and Jack and I (rather close together) in another, and when the elephant had very wisely selected M to pursue, that we two got our first glimpse of him.
He was a huge fellow, and he looked very much in earnest as, with his big, sail-like ears stretched to their full width on either side of his head, his trunk uplifted and his tail cocked, he went crashing after our nimble nigger, trumpeting and squealing like a steam-engine gone mad. I felt some anxiety on M’ngulu’s account as pursuer and pursued disappeared in the dense depths of the jungle through which we had come.
M was by far the worst mounted of the three of us, and was armed only with one of our small rifles, a bullet from which might stop an elephant once in a thousand shots, and, certainly, would do nothing of the sort the other nine hundred and ninety-nine times. It would appear that the angry brute had appreciated these facts in choosing M’ngulu to vent his fury upon instead of one of us, for we were armed with our express rifles, bought by Jack with a view to this very work, and we were besides, much better mounted than our good nigger.
But we need not have feared for M’ngulu. That acute person knew very well indeed what he was about; and as Jack and I still sat wondering whether we ought to follow in his tracks, or whether M would have the gumption to bring the elephant round so as to pass within easy shot of us, we became aware that M’ngulu had proved himself to possess the required quality, and was, indeed, at this moment approaching with the elephant at his horse’s heels.
The first indication of this was a violent trembling and quaking on the part of my horse as the crashing and trumpeting began to tend in our direction instead of away. Jack’s horse, on the contrary, showed signs of a desire to bolt; and it was with difficulty that he restrained it until, just as the hunt came in sight, the brute gave itself up to complete terror, and, refusing all persuasion, twisted round and galloped madly away in the opposite direction.
Mine showed a less frantic disposition. Though it quaked and shook like a man in an ague fit, it stood its ground and allowed me to bring my heavy rifle to bear upon the furious brute as it came by.
Away darted M’ngulu’s terrified horse, making better pace than ever it had made before this day, straining every nerve to keep ahead of the mad brute behind it. Even old M looked a little nervous, I thought, glancing back over his shoulder at the pursuing “rogue,” and shouting something to me as he flew by. I did not catch what he said. The elephant was distinctly closer to his horse’s heels now, than when, a few minutes ago, they had disappeared in the jungle, and it certainly seemed to me that it gained at every stride; no wonder poor M looked nervous. A considerable responsibility attached to my shot, I felt; for if I could not stop the brute he would undoubtedly have M or his horse in another minute unless they contrived to dodge him.
I could still hear Jack’s horse crashing away in the distance, and Jack’s voice remonstrating with it very loudly and heartily; there was no help to be expected from him in this crisis.
All this takes so long to describe, while the thoughts themselves passed like lightning through the brain.
I brought my rifle to bear upon the brute as well as I could for the trembling of my horse, and pulled the trigger just as it passed within thirty yards of me, aiming for its heart, which I hoped and believed was to be found just outside the top of the shoulder. I pulled both triggers at once, feeling that this was a crisis, and that I should not get another chance of putting two heavy balls in at a favourable distance and in a vulnerable spot.
The immediate effect of my shot was twofold. In the first place, the recoil of the rifle from the double discharge was so great and unexpected as to cause me to lose my balance and fall backwards clean out of the saddle. That was the effect as it concerned myself. As for the elephant, it stopped short in its career, falling forward upon its knees, and smashing both of its fine tusks with the concussion.
For a moment I fancied that I had killed it outright at a shot; but the next I discovered that this was far from being the case, for in an instant the great beast struggled to its feet and looked about it with the nastiest expression in its eyes that ever disfigured the optics of man or brute. Blood streamed down its side, but not from the shoulder or near it; I had missed my mark by a good foot, and wounded it in the ribs—badly no doubt, but not in such a manner as to render it immediately harmless.
I had fallen off my horse, as I explained, and was at this moment behind it, with one foot in the stirrup, about to remount, watching the elephant over the top of the saddle, uncertain whether it would be wiser to trust to my horse’s legs or my own; and whether, indeed, there would be time to mount and get under way before the brute discovered us and charged.
The elephant did not allow much opportunity for reflection. He turned his head in our direction as soon as he was upon his feet, and of course saw my terrified horse.
Up went his trunk, out went his great ears, forth bellowed his scream of rage. Silenced as he had been, for a moment or two, by the sudden shock of his wound and his fall, he was doubly furious and vindictive now by reason of the pain he had been caused, and in less time than is occupied by the pious British man who calls at need upon his patron saint, Jack Robinson, the great animal was in full descent upon my horse.