I was once very nearly caught near
this spot, where the elephants are always particularly savage. The lake
was then much diminished in size by dry weather, and the water had
retired for about a hundred yards from the edge of the forest, leaving a
deep bed of mud covered with slime and decayed vegetable matter. This
slime had hardened in the sun and formed a cake over the soft mud
beneath. Upon this treacherous surface a man could walk with great care.
Should the thin covering break through, he would be immediately
waist-deep in the soft mud. To plod through this was the elephant's
delight. Smearing a thick coat of the black mud over their whole bodies,
they formed a defensive armour against the attacks of mosquitoes, which
are the greatest torments that an elephant has to contend with.
I was watching the edge of the forest one afternoon at about four
o'clock, when I noticed the massive form of one of these tank rogues
stalk majestically from the jungle and proceed through the deep mud
towards the lake. I had the wind, and I commenced stalking him.
Advancing with my two gun-bearers in single file, I crept carefully from
tree to tree along the edge of the forest for about a quarter of a mile,
until I arrived at the very spot at which he had made his exit from the
jungle.
I was now within eighty yards of him as he stood with his head towards
the lake and his hind-quarters exactly facing me. His deep tracks in the
mud were about five feet apart, so great was his stride and length of
limb, and, although the soft bog was at least three and a half feet
deep, his belly was full two feet above the surface. He was a fine
fellow, and, with intense caution, I advanced towards him over the
trembling surface of baked slime. His tracks had nearly filled with
water, and looked like little wells. The bog waved as I walked carefully
over it, and I stopped once or twice, hesitating whether I should
continue; I feared the crusty surface would not support me, as the
nearer I approached the water's edge the weaker the coating of slime
became, not having been exposed for so long a time to the sun as that at
a greater distance.
He was making so much noise in splashing the mud over his body that I
had a fine chance for getting up to him. I could not withstand the
temptation, and I crept up as fast as I could.
I got within eight paces of him unperceived; the mud that he threw over
his back spattered round me as it fell. I was carrying a light
double-barrelled gun, but I now reached back my hand to exchange it for
my four-ounce rifle. Little did I expect the sudden effect produced by
the additional weight of the heavy weapon. The treacherous surface
suddenly gave way, and in an instant I was waist deep in mud. The noise
that I had made in falling had at once aroused the elephant, and, true
to his character of a rogue, he immediately advanced with a shrill
trumpet towards me. His ears were cocked, and his tail was well up; but
instead of charging, as rogues generally do, with his head thrown rather
back and held high, which renders a front shot very uncertain, he rather
lowered his head, and splashed towards me through the mud, apparently
despising my diminutive appearance.
I thought it was all up with me this time; I was immovable in my bed of
mud, and, instead of the clean brown barrel that I could usually trust
to in an extremity, I raised a mass of mud to my shoulder, which encased
my rifle like a flannel bag. I fully expected it to miss fire; no sights
were visible, and I had to guess the aim with the advancing elephant
within five yards of me. Hopelessly I pulled the slippery trigger. The
rifle did not even hang fire, and the rogue fell into the deep bed of
mud stone dead. If the rifle had missed fire I must have been killed, as
escape would have been impossible. It was with great difficulty that I
was extricated from my muddy position by the joint exertions of myself
and gun-bearers.
Elephants, buffaloes, and hogs are equally fond of wallowing in the mud.
A buffalo will gallop through a swamp, hock deep, in which a horse would
be utterly powerless, even without a rider. Elephants can also make
wonderful progress through deep mud, the formation of the hind legs with
knees instead of hocks giving them an increased facility for moving
through heavy ground.
The great risk in attacking rogue elephants consists in the
impracticability of quick movements upon such ground as they generally
frequent. The speed and activity of a man, although considerable upon a
smooth surface, is as nothing upon rough, stumpy grass wilds, where even
walking is laborious. What is comparatively level to an elephant's foot
is as a ploughed field to that of a man. This renders escape from
pursuit next to impossible, unless some welcome tree should be near,
round which the hunter could dodge, and even then he stands but a poor
chance, unless assistance is at hand. I have never seen anyone who could
run at full speed in rough ground without falling, if pursued. Large
stones, tufts of rank grass, holes, fallen boughs, gullies, are all
impediments to rapid locomotion when the pursued is forced to be
constantly looking back to watch the progress of his foe, and to be the
judge of his own race.
There is a great art in running away.
