Popular Adventure Tales

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER XXXIII.

  THE ELEPHANT'S SLEEPING-ROOM.

  The field-cornet was far from satisfied with his day's work. His firstattempt at elephant-hunting had proved a failure. Might it not be alwaysso?

  Notwithstanding the interest with which he listened to Hans's narrativeof the day's adventures, he felt uneasy in his mind when he reflectedupon his own.

  The elephant had escaped so easily. Their bullets seemed to have injuredhim not the least. They had only served to render him furious, anddangerous. Though both had hit him in places where their wounds shouldhave been mortal, no such effect was produced. The elephant seemed to gooff as unscathed, as if they had fired only boiled peas at him!

  Would it be always so?

  True, they had given him but two shots. Two, if well directed, may bringdown a cow-elephant and sometimes a bull, but oftener it requires tentimes two before a strong old bull can be made to "bite the dust."

  But would any elephant wait until they could load and fire a sufficientnumber of shots?

  That was an undecided point with our tyro elephant-hunters. If not, thenthey would be helpless indeed. It would be a tedious business spooringthe game afoot, after it had once been fired upon. In such cases theelephant usually travels many miles before halting again; and onlymounted men can with any facility overtake him.

  How Von Bloom sighed when he thought of his poor horses! Now more thanever did he feel the want of them--now more than ever did he regrettheir loss.

  But he had heard that the elephant does not always make off whenattacked. The old bull had shown no intention of retreating, afterreceiving their shots. It was the odd conduct of Swartboy that had puthim to flight. But for that, he would no doubt have kept the ground,until they had given him another volley, and perhaps his death-wound.

  The field-cornet drew consolation from this last reflection. Perhapstheir next encounter would have a different ending. Perhaps a pair oftusks would reward them.

  The hope of such a result, as well as the anxiety about it, determinedVon Bloom to lose no time in making a fresh trial. Next morning,therefore, before the sun was up, the hunters were once more upon thetrail of their giant game.

  One precaution they had taken, which they had not thought of before. Allof them had heard that an ordinary leaden bullet will not penetrate thetough thick skin of the great "pachyderm." Perhaps this had been thecause of their failure on the preceding day. If so they had providedagainst the recurrence of failure from such a cause. They had moulded anew set of balls of harder material,--solder it should have been, butthey had none. They chanced, however, to be in possession of what servedthe purpose equally well--the old "plate" that had often graced thefield-cornet's table in his better byegone days of the Graaf Reinet.This consisted of candlesticks, and snuffer-trays, and dish-covers, andcruet-stands, and a variety of articles of the real "Dutch metal."

  Some of these were condemned to the alembic of the melting-pan; and,mixed with the common lead, produced a set of balls hard enough for thehide of the rhinoceros itself--so that this day the hunters had no fearsof failure upon the score of soft bullets.

  They went in the same direction as upon the preceding day, towards theforest or "bush," as they termed it.

  They had not proceeded a mile when they came upon the spoor of elephantsnearly fresh. It passed through the very thickest of the thornyjungle--where no creature but an elephant, a rhinoceros, or a man withan axe, could have made way. A family must have passed, consisting of amale, a female or two, and several young ones of different ages. Theyhad marched in single file, as elephants usually do; and had made aregular lane several feet wide, which was quite clear of bushes, andtrampled by their immense footsteps. The old bull, Swartboy said, hadgone in advance, and had cleared the way of all obstructions, by meansof his trunk and tusks. This had evidently been the case, for thehunters observed huge branches broken off, or still hanging and turnedto one side, out of the way--just as if the hand of man had done it.

  Swartboy further affirmed, that such elephant-roads usually led towater; and by the very easiest and shortest routes--as if they had beenplanned and laid open by the skill of an engineer--showing the rareinstinct or sagacity of these animals.

  The hunters, therefore, expected soon to arrive at some watering-place;but it was equally probable the spoor might be leading them from thewater.

  They had not followed it more than a quarter of a mile, when they cameupon another road of a similar kind, that crossed the one they werespooring upon. This had also been made by a number of elephants--afamily most likely--and the tracks upon it were as recent as those theyhad been following.

  They hesitated for a moment which to take; but at length concluded uponkeeping straight on; and so they moved forward as before.

  To their great disappointment the trail at last led out into more openground, where the elephants had scattered about; and after following thetracks of one, and then another without success, they got bewildered,and lost the spoor altogether.

  While casting about to find it in a place where the bush was thin andstraggling, Swartboy suddenly ran off to one side, calling to the othersto follow him. Von Bloom and Hendrik went after to see what the Bushmanwas about. They thought he had seen an elephant, and both, considerablyexcited, had already pulled the covers off their guns.

  There was no elephant, however. When they came up with Swartboy, he wasstanding under a tree, and pointing to the ground at its bottom.

  The hunters looked down. They saw that the ground upon one side of thetree was trampled, as though horses or some other animals had been tiedthere for a long time, and had worn off the turf, and worked it intodust with their hoofs. The bark of the tree--a full-topped shadyacacia--for some distance up was worn smooth upon one side, just asthough cattle had used it for a rubbing-post.

  "What has done it?" asked the field-cornet and Hendrik in a breath.

  "Da olifant's slapen-boom" (the elephant's sleeping-tree), repliedSwartboy.

  No further explanation was necessary. The hunters remembered what theyhad been told about a curious habit which the elephant has--of leaningagainst a tree while asleep. This, then, was one of the sleeping-treesof these animals.

  But of what use to them, farther than to gratify a little curiosity? Theelephant was not there.

  "Da ole karl come again," said Swartboy.

  "Ha! you think so, Swart?" inquired Von Bloom.

  "Ya, baas, lookee da! spoor fresh--da groot olifant hab slap hereyesterday."

  "What then? you think we should lie in wait, and shoot him when hereturns."

  "No, baas, better dan shoot, we make him bed--den wait see um lie down."

  Swartboy grinned a laugh as he gave this piece of advice.

  "Make his bed! what do you mean?" inquired his master.

  "I tell you, baas, we get da oliphant sure, if you leave da job to oleSwart. I gib you de plan for take him, no waste powder, no wastebullet."

  The Bushman proceeded to communicate his plan, to which hismaster--remembering their failure of yesterday--readily gave hisconsent.

  Fortunately they had all the implements that would be necessary forcarrying it out,--a sharp axe, a strong rope or "rheim" of raw-hide, andtheir knives--and they set about the business without loss of time.