It Was Bad, Thorny Jungle, Interspersed With Numerous Small Glades Of
Fine Turf.
Upon arriving in one of these glades, about a quarter of a mile beyond
the river, I saw a crowd of gun-bearers standing around some person
lying upon the ground.
Neither Palliser nor Wortley were to be seen, and
for an instant a chill ran through me, as I felt convinced that some
accident had happened. 'Where are masters?' I shouted to the crowd of
men, and the next moment I was quite relieved by seeing only a coolie
lying on the ground. On examining the man I found he was more frightened
than hurt, although he was cut in several places and much bruised.
Upon giving a shout, Palliser and Wortley returned to the spot. They now
explained the mystery. They were running on the fresh tracks in this
glade, no elephants being then in sight, when they suddenly heard a rush
in the jungle, and in another instant two elephants charged out upon
them. Wortley and Palliser both fired, but without effect--the
gun-bearers bolted,--an elephant knocked one man over, and tried to
butt him against the ground; but two more shots from both Palliser and
Wortley turned him; they were immediately obliged to run in their turn,
as the other elephant charged, and just grazed Palliser with his trunk
behind. Fortunately, they doubled short round, instead of continuing a
straight course, and the elephants turned into the jungle. They followed
them for some little distance, but the jungles were so bad that there
was no chance, and they had returned when I had shouted.
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