Part 10 (1/2)

Greatly to the joy of Moondah they managed to kill not a few wild pigs.

In a bit of scrub or bush about an acre in extent they were told one day that a panther was hid. This was a chance not to be missed. Stake nets were planted at the side next to the hill where doubtless the beast's cave lay, the guns were well positioned, and the beaters began their work. Mr Panther, however, did not see the fun of going into that net.

Disturbed at last, he quitted cover by making a wild rush at the beaters themselves; two were rolled over, and one severely lacerated in the leg. Fred was the nearest gun, and he wounded the panther in the shoulder, without stopping his way however. Well, a wounded panther must attack whatever with life in it happens to come his way. In this instance it was an old grey boar, who was coming round a corner, wondering to himself what all the row meant. The panther repented his rashness next minute, when the boar's tusks were fleshed in his neck.

It was a curious battle, brought to a speedy termination by Chisholm's bone-crusher. His monster bullet whizzed through the panther's body, and pierced the breast of the huge boar, and they fell as they fought.

”Now,” said Lyell, ”I do call that a good shot. Bravo! Chisholm.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

ELEPHANT HUNTING--THE ELEPHANT AND TIGER--THE TUSKER'S CHARGE--THE RUNAWAY ELEPHANT--THE MAN-EATING TIGRESS.

Those of my readers who have followed me so far in my history of the wanderings and adventures of our heroes cannot but have observed that in the character of Frank Willoughby there was a certain amount of what, to give it the right name, must be called foolhardiness. But poor Frank's last adventure in the Indian jungle taught him a lesson which he is not likely to forget while life lasts.

Elephant shooting seemed at first, to Frank and Fred at least, very cruel and unnecessary sport. Elephants are so sagacious and wise.

”Just think, for instance,” said Frank, ”of shooting a n.o.ble beast like poor old Jowser!”

”Ah, but,” Lyell explained, ”it isn't every elephant you'll find equal to Jowser. Moondah there will tell you of the immense destruction elephants cause to the maize and rice crops.”

”Yes, yes, dat is so,” said Moondah; ”if they are not kill, and plenty kill too, they soon conquer all de country worse dan de Breetish.”

Well, apart from the apparent cruelty of killing the elephant, which Sir Samuel Baker calls the ”lord of all created animals,” there is no sport in the world so exciting and dangerous as this, and none that requires greater hardihood or daring. No wonder then that our heroes spent over a month at it, meeting of course with many other wild adventures, but _seeking_ none other. Moondah it was who organised for them their army of beaters and trackers, and the scenery through which these men led them, was oftentimes grand and beautiful in the extreme; not that they had much time during the chase to admire the loveliness of nature, it was while riding homewards to their temporary camp in the cool of the evening, or stretched beneath the trees when dinner was over, that they could thoroughly enjoy quietly gazing on all things around them. This was indeed the _dolce far niente_.

Our heroes one day had an opportunity of witnessing a curious encounter, between an elephant and a tiger. They themselves were within fifty yards of the herd when it took place, and under cover; the elephants were quietly browsing on the plain, and evidently not suspecting that danger lurked on either hand. One young calf had strayed some little distance from the parent.

”So capital a chance as this,” said a tiger to himself, ”is seldom to be found; I would be a fool to miss it.”

There was a scream from an elephant in the rear, and a wild rush from one in the van. The tiger seemed quite unable to check his speed in time, and next moment he was crushed to atoms under the terrible feet of the furious tusker. There was a crash and a scream, and a cloud of dust. Then the elephant could be seen gathering himself up from where he had literally fallen upon his foe.

Fred Freeman used to chaff Chisholm O'Grahame about the immensity of his rifle.

”I wouldn't carry such a tool as that for the world,” Fred said one day.

”No,” said Chisholm, laughing, ”for, my dear boy, you couldn't.

Besides, its kicking would kill you.”

Now, early next morning a rogue elephant was to be tracked, and if possible bagged. He was a wily old rascal this, who seldom cared to go with the other herds; he doubtless thought he fared better when all by himself. He was a murderous old rascal too; for on two separate occasions he had attacked men, and more than one death could be laid at his door. It was not the first time that some or other of our heroes had gone out against this Goliath. But though he had been wounded several times, he did not seem to mind it; it evidently did not spoil his appet.i.te, for on this particular morning they tracked him for miles through a bamboo brake, and at last could hear him on ahead, browsing on the branches as he marched.

”Now give me this shot,” cried Fred, ”all to myself.”

”Have a care, then,” said Lyell.

”Never fear for me,” said Fred, and next minute he had crept into the bush and was out of sight; and his companions with a portion of the people sat down near a pool, left by some recent rain, to wait.

Presently the ring of a rifle was heard, then a shout, then back rushed Fred, faster far than he had gone away, and far less buoyant too, for behind him was the monster tusker, eyes aflame and ears erect, bent on revenge--bent on doing some one to death. Yes, but the pen has never yet been dipped in ink that can describe the fury of an angry tusker's charge.

Lyell fired quickly. Lyell missed. Now Chisholm's mighty rifle made the welkin ring, and down rolled the elephant on his head, raising a sheet of water that drenched every one of the party as a green sea would have done on s.h.i.+p-board.

”I took a temple shot at him,” said Fred.

Lyell roared with laughter. ”Yes,” he said, ”and you hit him through the nose. Ha! ha! ha! that accounts for the beggar charging with trunk in air, instead of curled close.” [As they almost invariably do.]