e object being to secure only as
many as were required for the Government stud, it was not sought to
entrap more than could conveniently be attended to and trained after
capture.]

Meanwhile, preparations were making outside to conduct the tame
elephants into the corral, in order to secure the captives. Noosed ropes
were in readiness; and far apart from all stood a party of the out-caste
Rodiyas, the only tribe who will touch a dead carcase, to whom,
therefore, the duty is assigned of preparing the fine flexible rope for
noosing, which is made from the fresh hides of the deer and the buffalo.

At length, the bars which secured the entrance to the corral were
cautiously withdrawn, and two trained elephants passed stealthily in,
each ridden by its mahout (or _ponnekella_, as the keeper is termed in
Ceylon), and one attendant; and, carrying a strong collar, formed by
coils of rope made from coco-nut fibre, from which hung on either side
cords of elk's hide, prepared with a ready noose. Along with these, and
concealed behind them, the headman of the "_cooroowe_," or noosers,
crept in, eager to secure the honour of taking the first elephant, a
distinction which this class jealously contests with the mahouts of the
chiefs and temples. He was a wiry little man, nearly seventy years old,
who had served in the same capacity under the Kandyan king, and wore two
silver bangles, which had been conferred on him in testimony of his
prowess. He was accompanied by his son, named Ranghanie, equally
renowned for his courage and dexterity.

On this occasion ten tame elephants were in attendance; two were the
property of an adjoining temple (one of which had been caught but the
year before, yet it was now ready to assist in capturing others), four
belonged to the neighbouring chiefs, and the rest, including the two
which first entered the corral, were part of the Government stud. Of the
latter, one was of prodigious age, having been in the service of the
Dutch and English Governments in succession for upwards of a century.[1]
The other, called by her keeper "Siribeddi," was about fifty years old,
and distinguished for gentleness and docility. She was a most
accomplished decoy, and evinced the utmost relish for the sport. Having
entered the corral noiselessly, carrying a mahout on her shoulders with
the headman of the noosers seated behind him, she moved slowly along
with a sly composure and an assumed air of easy indifference; sauntering